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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 turned his gaze back towards the wounded soldier again. "Do whatever is necessary to save him." Aragorn said with a sigh. He felt defeated.
no subject
Sighing, Sam reaches out and allows his hand to skim just above the man's wound, a faint green light glowing between them, making the wound close and heal. He moves his hand to other places and does the same. Eventually the soldier does seem to settle and in much less pain.
"Some are more resilient to the taint than others. We'll have to see. If he looks as if he is starting to turn..." He leaves it at that. The stranger should be able to figure what he means.
no subject
"The darkspawn are more likened to a plague than anything else." The ranger lamented with a weary sigh. He glanced over at the healer with a sad smile etched upon his lips.
"How long have you battled them?"
no subject
"A plague seems like a good comparison. It's magical to some extent and effects everyone and everything differently. I'd suggest a lot of caution with these creatures. The Wardens are the ones that know more about them." A pause as Sam cleans his hands before peering at the man.
"You came through the Rift did you not?"
no subject
He peered back at the healer and nods. "Indeed." Aragorn replied curtly while subconsciously rubbing the shard embedded within his right hand. "Did this give it away?" The Dúnadan gestured to his hand.
"What kind of sorcery is this?"
no subject
"The green glow is certainly a dead give away. Your accent is a bit different as well, as are your clothes if paid enough attention." He motions for the man to let him look at his palm, holding his own hand out, though he doesn't necessarily expect it.
"We're not completely sure. All this started happening when a giant rift opened up in the sky. We're still figuring it out as we go since this has never been seen until about several months ago."
no subject
If the natives were just as clueless as he, then surely something foul was bound to happen sooner than later. It's all just a matter of time at this point. Aragorn just hoped he won't lose his hand before of this accursed shard.
"What about the Grey Wardens?" Aragorn suddenly asked once he remembered what he learned from another earlier. "The Grey Wardens know much of Darkspawns but do they know anything about this?" The ranger is looking for hope where there's none.
no subject
What we do know is that it reacts to the rifts. There is power behind them that have been allowing groups of Rifters to close the rifts that allow demons to come through into this world." Considering everything that has happened he seems to be taking it well.