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faderift2016-02-23 01:43 am
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.
no subject
He might have laughed, wry surprise, if claws weren't swinging for his face.
He kicked out, knocking a demon back and sent an arrow down into it's leering maw.
"Probably!" he called back, turning his head to avoid the resulting splatter. "Try not to get it in your mouth."
no subject
"They're getting nasty now." He muttered as he glanced down at the wound upon his arm. It's a slight scratch, nothing too serious.
no subject
A wraith whirled on them, blasting frigid wind and sharp, spears of ice, and Maxwell ducked behind an upended table, jerking his face back as the shards peppered through the wood.
Still, he shot the man a grin.
"Feel free to give back in kind."
no subject
He stabbed deep within the back of this fiend before brutally kicking it away. A sickening crack was heard as the wraith-like beast fell forward upon the ice. Aragorn purposely kicked the bastard onto a sharp icicle that impaled it right through the head. Blackened blood oozed out of the wound as the beast clawed helplessly at the ground during the final moments of its life. Aragorn then quickly finished it off by cutting the monster's head clean off. The putrid stench of rotted blood nearly made him swear in disgust.
"It doesn't get any nastier than this." Sarcasm, he has it. Aragorn glanced over the archer with a grin.
"Let's get moving before more come."
no subject
"This way," Maxwell waved a hand, gesturing away from the cliff face. "We've a camp not far from here."
no subject
"On your lead then." He said once the archer walked ahead. "I sincerely hope I could find better armaments there." Stealing broken weapons off the battlefield wasn't ideal.
no subject
He'd handled himself well, even with the makeshift supplies. That was a good sign.
"I'm sure we'll be able to manage something. Some warmth and some answers, if nothing else."
It was, to be fair, the first time he'd encountered a newly arrived rifter, and he couldn't say he was entirely sure what the process was. But those would have been important to him, he thought, if they were reversed.
no subject
Despite all their similarities, he could almost sense something slightly amiss about this mild-mannered archer. He couldn't quite figure out what that "something" was but Aragorn felt it.
"The warmth alone would be much appreciated." The ranger replied quietly. "Answers would be quite generous." He smiled somewhat.
no subject
"There are others who can explain in more detail, if you wish, but to start: those were demons, and darkspawn attacking you. Both dangerous, for different reasons. The demons came from the rift, the green - cloud, if you will. The darkspawn from underground, from the Deep Roads. There's an opening nearby. I understand there's a team working on it."
He paused, wondering the best way to go on.
"You came from the rift as well. From wherever you were, to here. To Thedas."