Fade Rift Mods (
faderifting) wrote in
faderift2016-02-23 01:43 am
OPEN: turn off the lights and I'll glow
WHO: New rifters & characters in Emprise du Lion
WHAT: More people falling on ice than usual, this time with demons, templars, and bonus nighttime
WHEN: Guardian 23
WHERE: Emprise du Lion
NOTES: This month, the arrival log is open to all.
WHAT: More people falling on ice than usual, this time with demons, templars, and bonus nighttime
WHEN: Guardian 23
WHERE: Emprise du Lion
NOTES: This month, the arrival log is open to all.
You were asleep--deeply or fitfully, for the last time or just resting your eyes for a moment-- and then you were not. And wherever you were was not, anymore, replaced by nothing but the sensation of falling, tumbling into endless, bottomless nothing. If this were still a dream, you would wake before you hit the ground. You can't die in a dream, they say. In some worlds.
But there's no waking here, just a flare of green-white light and a jarring impact onto freezing stone or ice that is twice as cold and just as hard. When your breath returns and the light's after-image fades from your eyes you will find yourself beneath a dark sky, a full moon straining to be seen through intermittent clouds, and a second moon low on the horizon. Its light reflects off snow to add an eerie ambient glow to the darkness, made stranger by the sickly green tint added by the fluttery menacing shape of the rift hanging in mid-air. Be careful getting up: you are at the edge of a cliff, what was once a waterfall now frozen solid in a massive curling sheet of icicles. The drop to the bottom is several stories, surely a deadly fall even without the huge humps and spikes of ice and snow that litter the ground where splash and spray were petrified.
You are also not as you were: in the palm of your left hand there glows a narrow splinter of light the same sickly green as whatever brought you here. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions. Like the fact that you're being attacked by monsters--some tall, spindly stick-things with too many eyes, some hunched and hooded with no eyes at all. Some are entirely different but perhaps more monstrous for it: men and women in heavy, gleaming armor, all of them with chunks of red crystal protruding out in a way you soon realize indicates it is actually growing out of their skin. Their eyes are a dull red, hollow and empty, and they attack with a single-minded determination.
Luckily, you are not on your own. Around you others are waking up, equally confused, with the same green lights flaring from their hands. There is stuff scattered about, like the contents of someone's life exploded through the rift with them: a picnic table and benches upended, metal camp furniture flung about, clothes and utensils, bits of wood and canvas and mattress littering the ground. Even better, you are not far from a path leading toward an Inquisition camp, and noise travels far in this terrain, echoing up canyons and off cliffsides, carried by the chill night wind. Help is on its way; just last until it arrives.
But there's no waking here, just a flare of green-white light and a jarring impact onto freezing stone or ice that is twice as cold and just as hard. When your breath returns and the light's after-image fades from your eyes you will find yourself beneath a dark sky, a full moon straining to be seen through intermittent clouds, and a second moon low on the horizon. Its light reflects off snow to add an eerie ambient glow to the darkness, made stranger by the sickly green tint added by the fluttery menacing shape of the rift hanging in mid-air. Be careful getting up: you are at the edge of a cliff, what was once a waterfall now frozen solid in a massive curling sheet of icicles. The drop to the bottom is several stories, surely a deadly fall even without the huge humps and spikes of ice and snow that litter the ground where splash and spray were petrified.
You are also not as you were: in the palm of your left hand there glows a narrow splinter of light the same sickly green as whatever brought you here. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions. Like the fact that you're being attacked by monsters--some tall, spindly stick-things with too many eyes, some hunched and hooded with no eyes at all. Some are entirely different but perhaps more monstrous for it: men and women in heavy, gleaming armor, all of them with chunks of red crystal protruding out in a way you soon realize indicates it is actually growing out of their skin. Their eyes are a dull red, hollow and empty, and they attack with a single-minded determination.
Luckily, you are not on your own. Around you others are waking up, equally confused, with the same green lights flaring from their hands. There is stuff scattered about, like the contents of someone's life exploded through the rift with them: a picnic table and benches upended, metal camp furniture flung about, clothes and utensils, bits of wood and canvas and mattress littering the ground. Even better, you are not far from a path leading toward an Inquisition camp, and noise travels far in this terrain, echoing up canyons and off cliffsides, carried by the chill night wind. Help is on its way; just last until it arrives.

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"If you have ice magic, use that! Otherwise, just keep stabbing." For Korrin's part, she'll need to wait a bit to repeat Winter's Grasp, so instead she activates her previously empty hilt, conjuring a glowing blade just as the demon breaks free of its icy prison. Charging, she slices into it.
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One moment she's human, and the next her eyes flash gold. As the fire thing breaks free of the ice cage her company made for it, she lunges forward again - but it's the Wolf now, not Red. Bigger than just about any wolf you'd see in the wild, covered in black and grey fur, Red tears into the demon and disregards the burning smell that rises off her fur as she batters it with her teeth and her claws.
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None of that matters right now, in this moment, as much as it's been on the backburning and gnawing at her for months, and finally having an outlet to fight is almost therapeutic.
When the monster falls, she twists away, smoke rising off her fur from its final attack, and then she's Red again, hand stretching out to grab her cloak as she straightens, steadying herself against a rocky outcrop as she tries to stop that sickening feeling of dizziness and vertigo. That is new, even if needing to catch her breath a little isn't.
"God," she pants, before looking towards her new company. "Thanks."
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"You're welcome--and thanks for the help. I haven't fought alongside someone who could shapeshift for a while, forgot how powerful that kind of magic can be. Are you alright? I have healing potions if you need them."
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A little breathless, a little ragged, and then the rest of what her new friend says hits her. "Wait, you know other wolves?"
She's a little tender, sore, but frankly she's ignoring that in favour of focusing on this shapeshifter business. She left Storybrooke to find her kin, and she didn't really except to hear news like this so quickly. Then again, she didn't expect to fall on a mattress, either.
no subject
"Oh--and thank you. That was a spirit blade. I'm still new to it, but it's a path of magic which suits me very well." She glances down at her spirit blade hilt fondly, remembering all the effort put into crafting it. "I'm Korrin, by the way. I'm here with the Inquisition, a group formed to finding the one responsible for these rifts and restoring order...as much of an uphill battle as that is, right now."
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"That's not what I am," she replies, softly. Sounds more like something Regina or Zelena would be into, honestly. Giant spiders especially, blergh. That was just creepy sounding.
She looks to the hilt as well, before glancing back at its owner and straightening herself up a little. Standing on her own should be fine. Injuries? Nothing she can't deal with herself. All magic comes with a price, in her experience, and she survived quite a while on the run in the woods with Snow.
"Korrin, nice to meet you. I'm Ruby." And she follows the concept of the Inquisition easily enough, she guesses, although... "Mostly when I hear the word 'inquisition' I think religion and some shady dealings." To put it mildly. "But if they're trying to stop those things, more power to them. Where are we, exactly?"
no subject
"We're in Emprise du Lion, the frozen hell portion of the Empire of Orlais. See those red crystal spires? Don't touch them. They're highly toxic, to say the least. For example--some of the monsters you'll see in the area, vaguely humanoid shapes with those crystals jutting out of them? They used to be people. It's not worth it."
That disappointment doesn't go unnoticed and Korrin raises an eyebrow. "So you're...a werewolf, then? Or something like it? Though I'd be careful using that term around here. They're not any more loved than mages."
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"Got it, don't touch the red stuff." Quiet, distracted and incredibly concerned as she tries to process this. But - "There isn't a way to help them?"
Just give her a second, processing all of that before she cautiously asks, "Do you know how far it is to Misthaven? The Enchanted Forest, maybe?"
This is going to be a long, long day, but she tilts just her jaw a little, gaze and voice steady. "I'm used to it." She's used to being worse than a wolf. She's used to being seen as a monster, even if she wouldn't tend to call herself a werewolf, exactly.
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...and no, as far as we're aware, there isn't a way to help them. That shit corrupts and corrupts fast. Painfully, too. The only real mercy is a quick death, though the Red Templars hardly deserve it after what they've done to the locals; enslaving them, forcing them to work in brutal conditions...let's just say my well of sympathy is tapped out." Her lips form a thin line just thinking about it, and she draws a deep, steadying breath. "It's getting better, though. We raided their quarry and shut down their mining operation. What villagers survived are now under our protection."
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But I used a magic bean, it should have taken me home. Not to wherever this is. But I was headed there, not there already. Endless sentences that start with a protest and don't lead anywhere helpful.
"Okay," she allows instead, a little tight, a little tense. She's got to wonder just what kind of person this Korrin is, how she figures into all this. Red Templars, an Inquisition, Chantry, a whole mess of weird stuff, people enslaved, villagers struggling to get by day to day by the sound of it. All in all? There's a lot of information to try and soak up, and she's not sure where to start. She's known what it is to suffer a curse, to have something inside you that you can't control. Not to say that she doesn't agree they're monsters, it's not like she knows a thing about them to argue it either way. It's just monsters and people sometimes share the same skin, and part of her feels sorry for the people that were apparently corrupted into something else.
"They're lucky someone came to the rescue." And Ruby means that sincerely. She's been the scared villager, too, as well as the monster. "Which way to this village, anyway?"
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The question has her gesturing to her right. "It's not too far, but I'll show the way. The Inquisition camp is just beyond it, and you can get what supplies and rest you need there. You're hardly the first person to emerge from a rift, so needless to say we're getting used to it. Having extra supplies on hand has become a matter of course."
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Surely they should have realised? Would there have been any way? Would there have been clues? She doesn't know, but it grates that they didn't, like it could've been some other bizarre scheme from the witches and wizards that were so determined to distort the worlds to their whims.
"This is so screwed up."
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And let's see...people tumbling out of rifts is relatively new, only in the past few months. The rifts themselves have existed before then, created by the Breach which spawned them all. Until rifters arrived, all they spewed out were demons and more demons."
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Ruby makes a little face. "How'd you know for sure we weren't demons? I mean, it'd be reasonable enough to figure that people arriving the same way as demons were just more of the same but maybe..." What's the word she's looking for? "Customised?"
Her gaze sweeps over the terrain, and she's making a note to keep sniffing and watching and learning, beyond just listening to Korrin speak. "Not a demon, for the record. Even if that's what a demon would say, probably."
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"I'm a mage; I know real demons, and you're not it. Besides, you've seen those pouring out of the rift. They aren't exactly subtle. I keep reminding fellow natives of this, though it doesn't always sink in as much as I'd like. Demons can possess people, but again, not subtle at all. That sort of shit would come to the surface pretty quickly."
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"Evil does tend to have a flair for the dramatic," she agrees, with a bit of a smile despite herself. "Even when they're being subtle it's... kind of really, really not."
Oops, don't mind her, she's just hopping over a rock, and rolling her shoulders that feel a little stiff from the sudden cold and the unexpected fight.
no subject
"Heh, you're not wrong there. Between red lyrium spikes and green tears in the sky, it's pretty obvious around here when life is even more fucked up than usual. It's hard to believe now, but there was a time just before this when peace was at least possible. There was a war between mages wanting their freedom and Templars trying to keep them under their control. It was long-overdue and pretty nasty, but there was to be a Conclave to try and hammer out some kind of deal so that the fighting could end. And then that all blew up in the same incident that created the mother of all rifts, the Breach. So, we have an end to that war, sort of, if you can all the arrival of something even worse that."