OPEN: turn off the lights and I'll glow

[faderifting]

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.

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.

Comments

[thelastking]

The sudden question won a glance from Aragorn. "No." He muttered as he briefly checked his arms and hands. "Just a scratch." Thank the Valar for that. His gaze lingered briefly upon the strange glowing mark on his hand before he looked toward the newcomer.

Horns. Massive horns. Aragorn took a step back in surprise.

The man before him had to be close to eight feet tall or so. This behemoth easily dwarfs Aragorn by three-fold and he's considered quite tall. It's a blessing that this man is a friend than foe. Aragorn would hate to fight him.

"What is this?" He asked with a touch of confusion in his tone. "There's hundreds of them." He meant the darkspawn.

[qunari]

That earns a snort, Bull's nostrils flaring.

"Long story. Not sure we've got the time for the full explanation. Short version is they're evil, they want us dead, and they're coming up from underground. There's no real end to them, so getting back to camp's your best bet for staying un-eaten."

At least the man isn't taking a swing at him by mistake. Better and better. After a moment he nods towards Aragorn's hand.

"What you're really going to love is what we know about that thing."

[thelastking]

A slight sigh leaves Aragorn. The longer the story, the more complicated it is. The ranger gave the horned man a nod. There's more that he wanted to ask but now isn't the time. The two of them better fall back to the encampment while they could.

"What do you know--" Before he could even finish, something else jumps at him! It's dead within a matter of seconds once Aragorn stabs it through the neck but it managed to tear through the side of his coat. A sound of distaste leaves Aragorn once he catches a glimpse at the damage. Again, he's not injured but his coat is catching hell.

"As I was saying." He grumbled. "What do you know?" Aragorn asked as he glanced down at his hand again. He doesn't let his eyes linger on it for long. Another one of those "monsters" might attack him.

"To your left!" On cue, here's yet another hurlock trying to kill them. Lovely. This is Moria all over again.

[qunari]

This time it's Bull who takes the creature on. One hand reaches for the axe at his back, nearly as tall as he is, and in an effort to keep Aragorn out of the range of the swing he takes a running charge at the creature, wheeling back and bringing it down with a meaty crunching noise.

Luckily, the blackened blood sprays backwards, and Bull only pulls forward just enough to allow one leg to kick the creature off of the blade. The corner of his lip curls as he glances back over his shoulder.

"Watch the blood. It's poison. The kind they don't have an antidote for."

[thelastking]

Aragorn made plenty sure to stay out of the way. He would like to stay alive and in one piece. Again, he's grateful that this behemoth was on his side. The man before him was almost as tall as a cave troll and nearly as strong as one.

Poisoned blood? The ranger's eyes widened a little.

He suspected that as soon as he caught a whiff of it. The blackened blood smelled rancid, almost like spoiled meat. It's a stomach churning smell, awful and disgusting. Aragorn was once again reminded of Moria but this time by the foul smell.

"I'm aware now." He said with a slight chuckle. There's some dark humor to be had here in all this. "More are coming. Is there no end?"

[qunari]

"I doubt it. Those tunnels back in the rocks lead to the Deep Roads, and that place is pretty much Darkspawn Central. Best we can do is try to seal the entrance and move on."

Which they're free to try, if he's really up for it. Most Rifters just want to get to safety, but he wonders if this guy is really the sort to sit on his hands. He's got a way about him, that's for damn sure.

Iron Bull surveys him for a moment, thoughtful, before looking towards the rocky formations around them.

"There. You want to start a cave in, that's your best bet. See that pink crystal growing out of the rocks? That's dawnstone. Sharp, but brittle. It runs along the inside in veins. Should make it easy to dislodge." He shrugs. "Or we could head towards camp and come back for it. Your call."

[thelastking]

Aragorn took one look at the dawnstone and quickly made his decision. "I'll do it." The ranger said with no hesitation.

"I'll go."

He quickly dispatched another foe before breaking into a full sprint towards the dawnstone. There was an army of darkspawns between him and the stone but that didn't deter Aragorn. Not even the slightest.

He cut down anything that stood in his path. Hurlocks, genlocks and even shrieks couldn't stand in his way. "Cover me!" Aragorn yelled at the axe-wielder before lodging his sword through the ghoulish skull of a shriek. He's careful to avoid the blackened blood that spewed forth. Unable to pry that dented blade out of the creature's head, Aragorn switched to his bow.

The ranger arrived here lightly armed. From what Aragorn last remembered, the Fellowship were scattered somewhere within the woods and he was by the riverbank searching for Frodo. He wasn't able to remember anything else and didn't have the luxury of mulling through his thoughts right now.

Three elven arrows pierce through the throats of three unlucky genlocks who tried to test their archery on him. He killed in rapid secession with little interference. Anything that came at him ended up with an arrow through its eye. Aragorn keeps up the momentum long enough to come within a few yards of the dawnstone leaving a path of corpses in his wake.

"Will an arrow do?" Aragorn asked as he climbed onto a large stone. The ranger drew his bow again and took aim.

[qunari]

Color him impressed. The man fought like a beast, his blade cutting a bloody swath through the approaching monsters, and Bull moved after him in an instant. It was hard to keep an eye on the perimeter when you only had the one to spare, but he put his back to the ranger's, waiting for him to take his shot.

Bull let out an uncertain grunt. "One way to find out," he returned before wheeling around, catching one of the approaching hurlock's in the neck, nearly wrenching its head off completely in the process of pulling back. Aragorn would have all the time he needed to line up that shot.

Pity they didn't have a mage on hand, one in particular, but they'd manage. More than one way to skin a nug.

[thelastking]

With his shot perfectly aligned and the consent of his current companion, Aragorn fired. The arrow whipped past the heads of a few genlocks and hurlocks before finally piercing the heart of the dawnstone. It slammed right into the shard with enough force to make it shatter upon impact sending a ripple effect throughout the rift. Now that the dawnstone had been destroyed, the caverns of the Deep Roads begun to quake. Falling stone and bits of rock slammed into the ground and squished anything unfortunate enough to be in the way. Plenty of Darkspawns suffered a gruesome death thanks to Aragorn's heroics today and plenty more would die once the caverns sealed up.

"It is done." The ranger said as he lowered his bow. He gave the qunari beside him a quick glance before looking at his handiwork from earlier. While he had no clue about the people of this realm or the wars they fight, it's clear that Aragorn will be lending his aid in the near future. There's no possible way that he could remain idle after witnessing the horrors of the Darkspawns.

[qunari]

Done. If only the Darkspawn were so easily dispatched. Still, he'd done well, no question there. Bull gave him a short nod. "They'll try to dig their way out, eventually, but this will hold them for a while. That's time we can use."

The Qunari's head jerks towards the direction of the nearest campsite. "A lot of people around here are going to be glad to have you. Rifter or not. You got a name?"

He's got a story. That's clear enough from just looking at him. He's still taking in the details, working them over in his head, like a puzzle to be solved.

[thelastking]

Every man has a story but not every story is worth telling. Although, Iron Bull will get a chance to hear it someday. Until then, the ranger will keep to his secrets.

"Aragorn." He says as he hops off the towering boulder. "Aragorn, son of Arathorn." The ranger knows his name holds no weight here in these strange foreign lands but he answers nonetheless. "Rifters?" He questions as he glances down at his hand again. Just how much trouble will this strange stone cause him? The eerie green glow is enough to win his discontent but something tells Aragorn that the shard might be the least of his worries for now.

"Let us make way for the camp before our 'esteemed guests' try to dig themselves out." Aragorn says with a slight smirk.