faderift | 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

This whole situation is far from normal, but Christine knows better than to spook a patient by telling the full truth. She can try to soften it.

"This is a different kind of wound. I cannot say what will or won't work on it." She's mostly concerned about certain ways of healing or pain relief backfiring because of the nature of the wound. Nothing is easy when it involves the Fade.

"But if it cannot be numbed, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do to alleviate the sting for you. I am sorry." And she truly is. Christine hates to fail.

"Magic can't heal a magic wound?" Magic is the bit she's struggling with the most, that and the Fade thing, how she might have been there without remembering somewhere between leaving one world and arriving in another. "No, you don't need to apologise, none of this is your fault, I just..."

Except it's not 'just'. She's lost, she's impossibly far from all she knows, she's surrounded by strangers with the proof of it all lodged in her left hand, something that might be pretty had she chosen it.

"Is it truly a wound though? Shouldn't there be blood or my fingers refusing to work? I've seen people shot or stabbed in the hand and even years later they can't do what they did before but everything works just fine." So far but she's due a little bit of luck.

"Magic is not as easy as cause and effect, or point A to point B. It twists and winds, heals and kills. It is many things, and without knowing the magic contained within your hand, I cannot pull out this shard of light."

Her lips purse, though it's all irritation at not being able to work this out. It's a mystery, and one she certainly can't solve. This is going to keep her up at night, she just knows it.

"I cannot say why you are still able to move your hand, but at least you can. That is something. For now, try to rest. Perhaps through some research, we can figure out what is going on."

"All of that, I mean the potential, is in my hand?" That hand has done a lot: picked locks, held lovers, held weapons, it's killed more than a few times by now too but it was always her in charge of what it did. It's unsettling to realise that part of her isn't just her now, that there's something else that she - and apparently most others - won't understand fully. "You're a mage, yes? Forgive me if this is too forward but if that's what magic is, how do you live with it?" There's nothing harsh in her voice, indeed it's more akin to awe, the impossibility of it all so newly real that she hasn't had any time to be afraid of it.

"Don't suppose you'd know where I could get a sleep aid if drinking to forget doesn't quite work the way I want it to?"

"I cannot say with any confidence just what potential you might have." It's possible these rifters could seal rifts as the Herald did, but without testing the theory, it's only an assumption right now.

The question is surprising, if only because no one who is a native of Thedas would think to ask it. Magic is often seen as a curse, not a gift, and no one wants to know how a mage bears it. They must have sinned for the Maker to curse them so.

"Because the alternative is seen to many of us as worse." Her eyes lower to the ground for a moment, thinking of those mages she grew up with in the Tower who had their magic taken away. "If you are to dwell in this world, there is much you must learn. There is a way to cut off a mage's magic, but it is barbaric. Their connection to the Fade is severed, as is their ability to dream or have any emotions. You will see some of them here. They have a sunburst on their forehead, and are called Tranquils. Some choose Tranquility, afraid of their magic, and others have it forced on them, if they are thought too weak or too willful to make a 'good' mage. It is one of the many reasons the mages and Templars were at war. The Templars are the ones who carried out the sentence."

Christine sighs, her voice weary. Early on, she tried to explain the mages' position to one particularly stubborn Templar, who thought he was protecting the mages by demanding all the young apprentices go through their Harrowing -- a test where they are set before a demon, to kill or be killed. Christine argued that he had no authority over the mages anymore, and the mages would instruct their own. He had resorted to name calling, proving just the sort of man he was. She's avoided him and all Templars since. They're far too stubborn to listen to reason.

"Forgive me; these are unpleasant thoughts, but they are a reality of this world. And of course, I can only tell you my side. The Templars will likely tell you another. For now, go see the surgeon over there." She points out Bruce to her. "He makes all sorts of potions, and will probably be able to help you."

Honestly she's just happy that it's not doing anything to actively hurt her - if it opens things well, she might have had a panic over accidentally opening up her hand entirely or blasting something away into oblivion.

"There was a Vashoth woman who met me, a mage, she answered a lot of questions though I'm surprised I was coherent enough to actually ask sensible things when all this is so new." With a nervous smile she tucks her hair out of her face for something to do with her hands before the smile is gone, sympathy and hurt on her face instead. "She told me about the Qunari and how they treat mages, there's no treatment close to that where I come from and I thought, naively, perhaps that was the worst to be heard. But to do that. To take away a part of a person." Again, like she did with Korrin she has to turn away and stagger back a few steps until she can lean against something, trying to swallow the bile at that. "No one should go through that, not even criminals, how is any of that--"

It's not. It can't be justified. Araceli can't make fire or lightning but she knows that if she wanted to then she could slaughter many with her blades before anyone even knew where she was, sneaking in and out without a trace. Her life has been freedom and support, gentle chastisement, not the threat of losing everything hanging over her head.

"And yet the mages I've met so far have been so kind, so welcoming. I wish I hadn't been fighting the first time I saw magic, I didn't get to see it properly and enjoy it. Thank you, again, I would rather know what sort of world I'm walking in." Right now, she's firmly with the mages because how can she not be when so much seems against them because of what, at worst, is an accident of birth. "Thank you again, I won't forget your kindness."

Christine nods sadly. She knows of the Saarebas -- the Qunari mages chained with their mouths sewn shut. It's equally as horrifying.

"I will not deny that there are terrible people in the world who happen to be mages. Some lust for power or wish to hold others down, but overall, we wish to just live our lives and do good where we can. Magic should be a gift to aid others, but we have always been taught it is a curse. A burden we are forced to bear for some imagined sin."

Yet it lightens her heart to hear that this woman has had only good experiences with the mages of the Inquisition. That is what Christine is hoping will continue.

"Of course. I am here to help, however I am able." In this case, all she can do is refer her to someone else, and that irks her. She wishes she could do something more. But with time, she'll learn potions and poultices too.

We come from the land of the ice and snow

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