faderift | We come from the land of the ice and snow

We come from the land of the ice and snow

WHO: Open to all
WHAT: Thedas' strange new guests are delivered to Skyhold
WHEN: 25 Harvestmere (October)
WHERE: Skyhold main gate & courtyard
NOTES: This is Part I of a two-part intro event, Part II will be posted tomorrow.

A long uphill tromp through the snowy mountains ends at Skyhold, the distant fortress finally before them in all its tumble-down glory. There is time to admire the drop into the river gorge far below as they cross the only bridge into the castle; it is briefly backed up with traffic, several carts bearing supplies and visitors stalled as the portcullis is raised. Those coming to help catalog and unload the shipment and greet the guests, or otherwise present near the front courtyard, will find themselves witness to a far more interesting arrival.

Guards at the gate carry the word quickly, and more gather, though they make no move to imprison the strange people who fell out of a rift. They just line the perimeter and keep a close watch. Perhaps this adds a level of tension to this first encounter, but it also reassures the many who are unsettled by the uncertain turn of events and keeps in check those who might attack first and ask questions later. Others will no doubt soften the Inquisition's first impression, offering food, information, and other assistance.

Medical attention is available in the tented-encircled corner of the courtyard where the wounded from Haven are still treated. The quartermaster's assistant is called upon to provide spare odds and ends of clothing to those in need, and to issue blankets for all, though they are left to fend for themselves to find places to sleep.

Any mage willing to help is called in to do so and a cluster forms in one side of the courtyard to examine the rifters. They are objects of curiosity in general, but the marks on their hands are of particular interest, resembling smaller slivers of the Herald's famous mark. Despite their best efforts, no mage will be able to provide any real insight after this initial assessment. What the rifters and their marks are is a question they cannot answer today.

But one question is answered: in the midst of all the commotion, another Inquisition agent arrives from Haven, rushing in red-faced to announce that the Herald's body has finally been found.

OOC

It will be decided (partly for OOC reasons, admittedly) that the rifters will not be imprisoned at this point, but they will be watched carefully, and the guards are on alert for any strange behavior by people with glowing hands or strange attire. And of course, their freedom can be revoked at any time if they're deemed a danger. Though there are some OOC considerations at play here, you're welcome to ICly lobby for more or less freedom for the rifters, and things may change based on IC action/consensus.

Also: Part II, aka the log for the funeral/wake/etc. event, will go up tomorrow!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

{Mages needed}

The sudden uproar in the courtyard is a bit unsettling, watching as guards try to clear paths for new arrivals as current residents flock to see. He's thankful that they're trying to keep the peace the best they can with all the different news going around. The word about the Herald's body is most upsetting.

Regardless, Sam offers his assistance where ever it is needed. He's not certain how helpful he will be with getting answers about the mysterious marks, but it's worth a shot. There's a decent amount of mages stepping up to help besides him, but there are still only so many of them willing to face unknown people who seem... not of this world was it? His curiosity has him eager, but cautious.

There is blankets and food available.

{Looking for familiar faces}

After tending to marks and injuries, Sam makes a point in looking for the party responsible. He hasn't seen a few of them since they left and he's rather curious and worried.

{Wildcard}

It's been a long day. So many questions. Maybe a visit to the tavern? Any gossip? Have at it.

Edited 2015-10-26 01:24 (UTC)

There are many clamoring to see the marks, their curiosity quickly outweighing their wariness, and it is by chance alone that Galadriel finds herself standing before this particular human. She is taller than he is, but not by much; he is nearly twice her size across and a vague scent clings to him. She has known enough smiths to recognize it: the ill-defined scent of heated steel and the hissing quench of steam are cloying and linger for quite a time. She could not say if the scent was recent and real, or if it was simply an impression that had been left on him, but it mattered not at all.

"Many have examined this mark, already," she said, sounding nearly amused, and extended her hand to him. It was easy enough to see the slash of green that parted her palm, those who lacked his bravery (or who stood firmer against pushing) craned to stare, and the green light guttered briefly to life as she flexed her fingers.

"I will give you the same account I gave to them: I attempted to close it, for such wounds should not have been beyond me to heal, but it refused quite violently. It pained me much but, with care and time, the bite of it has dulled to an irritation. I have never seen such a mark, nor do I know what it is meant to accomplish, but..."

She paused and, for the first time in many answers, reconsidered how to phrase her thoughts.

"It is not apart from my will, not entirely.... It was not meant for me, but I am not so different that it refuses the shape of me."

Perhaps it made sense, perhaps not. It was unfortunate she didn't understand how their Magics worked, nor they her skills. Without that understanding, she lacked the vocabulary to be more specific or, indeed, to truly grasp what they would ask of her.

Even with all the people around, Sam finds his eyes immediately gravitating towards the golden haired woman making her way through the crowd. It's not just the way she moves, graceful as if floating, or how she seems to glow. She towers over everyone else, and when she comes to stop in front of him - he might be blushing - Sam can see exactly just how tall she is. She's taller than him by just a bit, but it makes it so that he can look her in the face straight on - her gaze is mesmerizing.

Her words are firm, but gentle, and it catches him off guard how easily she starts up a conversation. His eyes immediately are drawn downward when she raises her hand, and while he does notice the green slash across her pale skin, it's the glow from something else on the back of her hand that draws his attention. Only for a moment though and focuses his eyes on the mark - he can ask her later about the other thing.

Sam lifts his own hands, stopping just short of touching, to look back up for permission to touch. When he feels he has it, Sam gently cradles the hand between his own. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the touch, and for a moment its hard to concentrate as the whispers of spirits chatter excitedly in his head - it is unclear for a moment as it seems they are chittering about two different things.

"You attempted to close it?" There's surprise in his voice, though he doesn't look up, instead watching curiously while he presses his thumb near the mark. There's a strange feeling from it at the contact and it helps Sam understand just a tiny bit what she's referring to. It's hard to describe.

"So it's something you did not take on willingly? It's apart of you, but it's only sort of entity? Does it still hurt?"

"It appeared on my hand as abruptly as I found myself here," Galadriel explained as he examined her hand. He was careful, far more than some, but prodding the edge of the mark was sharply uncomfortable.

"The power is neither useful to me, nor something I fully comprehend. I would not have taken it; it does me no service," she said, though there was some strain in her voice. "It pained me greatly when it came to me, as though I had driven a blade down my arm. Even disoriented as I was, healing a wound should not have exceeded my skills. It is no wound, not truly."

She regarded her hand and inclined her head as she answered. "Yes, it still pains me, though it is considerably lessened. The power it holds is unfamiliar to me and, for good or ill, I can ignore the sensation of it, even as it persists."

He is quick to pull his hand away when he hears the strain in her voice, and he doesn't return to touching it when he hears that it does still pain her. It is very unsettling to know that, so he continues to look at it without touching. Not like doing so helped him understand it at all. Lady LeBlanc would probably know more with her years of magical experience.

It is not truly a wound she said, and it didn't take to healing. Well that made him feel a bit useless. Sam sighs at that. "May I ask where you came from? I'm afraid none of us were given much detail on what happened before you all showed up. And you say you are a healer?" He turns his gaze back up then, his brows raised in curiosity and worry.

"I am, but perhaps not as you mean." The answer was vague and, admittedly, the same one she'd given to his teacher, though she was unaware that they were associated. While she had spoken with the woman for some time, Galadriel had not provided Adelaide with the answers she gave him now.

"My skills lie in preservation, among other things. To restore myself should be a simple thing, yet I cannot. Someone from these lands assisted me; she soothed the ache of this wound, but the mark was a mystery to her as well."

Galadriel looked down at her hand and closed her fingers over the mark. The light flickered, not unlike a candle in a drafty room, and when she opened her fingers it was dull. Thusfar, the most she could do with it was agitate or calm it, skills that were hardly of value.

There were, after all, easier ways to generate light if one needed it.

"I would tell you of my lands, if you wish it, but I doubt you would know them by either name or description," she continued and returned her steady gaze to the human before her. She didn't withdraw her hand, despite his releasing it; the purpose of this endeavor was to study the mark, hiding it aided no one.

"I fell from the rift, as you know, and awoke here. I was told that to emerge from the rift, I must have passed through The Fade. If it assists you to know it, until that very moment, I had never heard of such a place. Indeed, I am uncertain if I truly understand what or where it is, even now."

So it was true, she had come from the Rifts, but she wasn't a creature of the Fade. That, along with everything else, was a bit much to take in at once, but he's faring well under it all. Just one thing at a time. At least it was a bit more clearer that the mark had to do something with the rift, and why it gave him the same feeling in the pit of his stomach with it being close.

Sam finds himself a bit nervous when the woman looks at him. It's probably because she's quite lovely in an ethereal kind of way, and the way she looks at you seems like she can look right into your soul. He's not used to that. "Did anyone explain to you what the Fade is besides mentioning it by name?"

"A few have tried," Galadriel's mild smile was wan as she replied. "Though I fear there is some deep knowledge that one or both of us lacked."

She cast a spare glance at the humans behind him, they had moved along to watch others. In the midst of all these faces, her gentle nature and calm tone was not enough to hold their attention. Her mark was calmer, by some happenstance, and proved less of an amusement. She folded her hands before her; his questions had been answered and the attention had moved beyond them, there was no reason to remain so awkwardly posed as they spoke.

"I understand that it is a place of--" She hesitated briefly. She was reluctant to use the word but, unfortunately, lacked alternatives. "--demons, and a way-point for spirits of the dead. The rifts open to it and the sky was torn to reveal it, but beyond that I know nothing. That is the sum of my knowledge of The Fade."

Sam chuckles at that, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Ah, yes. It can be a difficult subject to explain." At seeing the woman standing a bit more leisurely, Sam feels a bit calmer himself, which is evident in how his shoulders slump just a bit, the tension leaving them.

"I see. That's a pretty decent grasp of it actually." There's another chuckle as a particular buzzing in his ear is rather insistent. "Though it isn't just demons and the spirits of the deceased. The Fade is the home for spirits in general, demons only being the malicious kind. There are plenty that are good. I couldn't tell you exactly where the Fade is, but it is closely connected to this world. But you are right about the rifts and the breach. It is not unusual for there to be windows between the worlds, but not like this. This is completely new for us."

"It is another world?" Galadriel asked, clearly baffled by the idea.

It did not startle her to find that there was ambiguity among the severed and independent fëa of this world, that a spirit held complex shades of purpose and violence was hardly a shock. That The Fade wasn't a location in this world, however, that was very unusual. She had no concept of how that would occur, even being in Thedas was merely an extension of being in Arda, at least as she saw it, but another realm? Particularly a realm specific of spirits and not some accursed place steeped in memory? That she had not considered at all.

She could not have considered it, she barely grasped it now.

The closest analogs she could draw were the spaces beyond creation, but they were clearly within the bounds of creation. To draw something across that barrier was...impossible, by all counds. One could not force something into creation, not without the kindling flame or might beyond measure, and this green light could not possibly bestow either.

"The Fade is...apart from this land?" she asked slowly, attempted to clarify her question, but the concept was too strange to truly articulate. "It is not...a place?"

Sam rubs the back of his head and lets out a long, slow breath. "It's..." How qualified was he to be talking about the Fade? He wasn't as experienced as other Mages who had been learning magic for much longer. "...complicated."

He takes a moment to consider his words. It was easy to talk to someone who was able to experience the Fade - another Mage - but talking to someone who barely, or in this case never, had a connection to it? Sam wasn't the most eloquent with words either.

"The Fade is... a part of this world, just as much as it is separate...? This is a physical realm while the Fade is... fluid. Normally people only see the Fade when they dream, but it is fleeting. It's different for those who can use magic. We draw power from there so when we dream we are more connected and able to observe the Fade more clearly." There's a pause, hoping that this is making sense. Or was he making this worse?

For the first time since she had arrived in this place, Galadriel had a moment of true understanding. Her expression changed, both curious and surprised, as the concepts, as the accounts and explanations that had been given to her all came together. She still watched him, but with a new intensity, as if trying to see some part of him that wasn't entirely present.

"The power you use for your works," she paused and recalled Adelaide. "For your magic, is not your own? You draw it into yourselves?"

Humans were not so bound to their spirits that their bodies were worn away by them. Did this ability wear on them? Did it force their spirits to themselves, bind them as neatly as the elves were bound? No, they still slept. Their spirits did not sustain them in the same manner as the elves, but...to summon power so freely, how did they do it? Was there such a wealth awaiting them?

"You use the power of those without form? Of spirits? As one draws from a well?"

The expression that appears on the woman's face gives Sam pause. If the way she was looking at him before made him feel like she could look into his soul, this one made him feel like she wanted to reach in and inspect it closer. Did that make sense? He didn't feel threatened, but he certainly felt cornered in a way.

"Ah... it isn't quite like that." This was getting more complicated. As soon as one question was answered another one came up. "Magic is everywhere, but only certain people are born who can actually use it. We produce it with... our own spirit? That's what makes us able to view and interact with the Fade differently. There are those of us though that can draw additional power from spirits. We call that spirit magic."

Samouel | OTA

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