CLOSED: Drakonis Rifter Arrival

[faderifting]

WHO: New rifters & Solas
WHAT: Arrivals and returns
WHEN: Drakonis 20
WHERE: The Dales
NOTES: This log is slightly backdated and closed to new rifters and Solas. However, it is safe to assume that everyone (a) survives and (b) is led by Solas to Skyhold by Drakonis 25, so you're free to make new logs and begin playing at Skyhold when you're ready to do so.

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 cold dirt and long grass. When your breath returns and the light's after-image fades from your eyes you will find yourself beneath a canopy of trees, illuminated deep green by moonlight in the distance and brighter green by the crystalline tear in reality hanging suspended above you.

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. Surrounding you and the rift through which you arrived is a circle of six ghostly, humanoid figures, shifting colors in the dark like iridescent gems and throwing fire, ice, and bursts of physical force at whomever catches their attention.

Luckily, you are not on your own. Around you others are rising from the ground, equally confused, with the same green lights flaring from their hands. And not far is a lone figure, coming to help.

Comments

[parkourprince]

Legolas fell back first, blessedly missing any rocks or fallen logs on his way down, though it hardly made his landing soft. He was winded and his hand hurt, the arrows scattered from the quiver upon his fall, but all the same, he was back on his feet within a fraction of a second, stumbling only once before he regained his balance. The air reeked of corruption and that had him on full alert. The flash of icy light startled him only further, delayed him by a full second in reaching for what still remained of his arrows.

Finally, though, an approaching creature - vile not unlike the orcs, or any of the other creatures of Morgoth - jumpstarted him into action. Legolas grabbed a fistful of arrows, or what would have been a fistful had there been any more than two, and immediately nocked one to his bow, releasing an arrow straight at the creature's eye socket. It sang in the air, reaching its mark with ease.

He caught the sight of a woman with the corner of his eye, frightened and on the verge of fleeing, backed up against a tree. A stranger, likely much like himself finding herself in a situation beyond her understanding. Without a word, in but a handful of silent steps, moved to stand between her and the approaching creatures, the next - and his last - arrow already nocked and ready to be released once he found his mark.