Private Character Introduction: Cole

[cole_fadewalk]

Cole felt the rift open beneath him before he saw it, green and gaping, and his hands came up to clutch at the brim of his hat in the moment before the Fade swallowed them all. There was a moment of stifling wrongness -- he couldn't be in the Fade, he was too solid, he wasn't supposed to take up this much physical space -- before something twisted around him.

Then he was lying face-down in a stone corridor. He sat up slowly, recognizing the hall. Some of the pressure he felt from being in the Fade in a physical form had eased, but this new space was disorienting in a different way. Skyhold, but not Skyhold.

Before he could help anyone here, he needed to get his bearings first.

Public Post

[cole_fadewalk]

[ Rather than begin by writing, Cole seems to have drawn a bunch of tiny flowers in his journal: Andraste's Grace. ]

Private Character Introduction: Cullen

[cullen_fadewalk]

The Herald took Cassandra first, because she was cruel and knew the best ways to tear him down. It wouldn't have been so bad going to his death if he thought there was a chance Cassandra might survive--but that, too, had been taken from him.

Now, marching out to the scaffold erected in Skyhold's main yard, he could see his friend's head already mounted on its bloody pike, ready to decorate the walls. Her body was being carted away even as he was pushed up the slippery steps.

"Maker take you," Cullen murmured, fisting his hands. He had to swallow back slowly mounting rage as he faced down the Herald, refusing to bow his head and avert his eyes the way everyone else was doing. The courtyard was packed with witnesses--men, women, children. Even the babes were there, crying fitfully at the tension riding high in the air.

"Commander Cullen," the Herald said. Her voice was a cold sing-song. "For the crime of treason, I sentence you to death."

He could fight. He was still strong, and many if not all of the Templars and guards would hesitate to chase him down. There was a good chance he could make it as far as the gate. But what then? Would he begun a hunted man, chased across the face of Thedas? Would he waste his one opportunity to appeal to the Inquisition?

No. He couldn't fight, and he couldn't run. But he could try to make his death count for something.

"You are a false prophet," Cullen said, voice carrying across the field despite the days she'd tried to starve him into breaking. "You've used the Inquisition to conquer territory that is not yours by right, and--" She was already moving, axe lifting, one hand beckoning him forward. Cullen felt himself stumble forward as if pushed, and he fell to a knee, messily sprawling at her feet.

No, no, he needed more time.

"Fight her!" he called, struggling up even as he saw the glint of the axe coming down. "Fight her to your last--"

And then suddenly he was on his hands and knees in the grass, wrists still shackled together, breath coming in harsh, hard pants. The rest of the square was miraculously empty, but the sky when he looked up...the sky roiled in warning.

He wasn't out of this quite yet.

RP: Open to anyone

[cullen_fadewalk]

Cullen straightened, then slowly rose to his feet. He was in the main yard of Skyhold all right, but there were telling differences even beyond the troubling sky. The greenery hadn't all been stripped away, for one. The Herald's blood red banners were nowhere to be seen. The tavern still stood, and the high parapets were bare of their bristling defenses.

If he could ignore the tempest going on above his head, it almost seemed...peaceful. Like it was before things started going so wrong.

He turned in a slow circle, chains clanking, and silently noted the changes--then went perfectly still when he heard a footfall.

RP: Varric / Open to any near the Normandy

[cole_fadewalk]

Cole had never seen the courtyard so empty before. Even when Solas had lead the Inquisition through the gates for the very first time, Skyhold had already been thick with history. This was unlike any other part of the Fade he had ever been in.

As he descended Skyhold's steps, he realized that the castle wasn't as empty as it had been when he'd arrived. There were others here, now, coming in one by one, hurting and afraid.

Maybe Varric would know why. Varric knew about stories.

Private Character Introduction: Evelea Trevelyan

[evelea_fadewalk]

Tired. Evelea was so, so tired. She'd been stumbling down the twisting hallways of her own mind, guided only by the eerie, unmoored voice of a spirit named Cole, trying to find the demon of Envy that was hollowing her out like a worm in an apple.

She could feel the gnawing, see the cracks forming in her resolve, believing entirely for just a moment that she was watching Leliana actually draw the knife across Cullen's neck. She could smell the hot metal of his blood as it turned to ash in the air, and she wanted to scream.

Had to get out. She had to get out. She had to get back to them, make sure none of this, all this wrong ever came to pass.

This hallways was familiar. The panic climbed her throat as she turned and gripped the handle of the door nearest to her, pulling on it with a hoarse sob of frustration. She slapped the flat of her marked hand against it with a rising cry and the sizzle of that rippling green scar on her hand startled her.

There was the sensation of tearing. Of falling. When she hit the ground she didn't know why she hadn't broken into a thousand bloody-edged shards. The carpet under her hands as she shifted onto her knees was plush wool, the hard stone floor beneath it solid and real. Or more real than where Envy had taken her. She swallowed back the shifting bile, pushed her hair back from her face and looked up at the throne that loomed above her.

That was the Inquisition's heraldry, but this was not Haven.

Private Character Introduction: Tali'Zorah vas Normandy

[keelah_selai]

Tali'Zorah vas Normandy woke to the intense feeling that something was wrong.

It was rather obvious what was causing some of that - the Engineering deck was dark, only the orange-red emergency lights glittering in the darkness. With a start, Tali realized that the deck was also silent - no beeping consoles, no whirring computer modules, no gurgling pipes...

...no humming drive core.

She was on her feet and in the drive core chamber in moments, staring up in horror at the silent machine. Dead silent - not just sleeping, like they had set the ship down for an emergency landing; or offline, as if they were in the midst of repairs. The drive core made no noise at all, as if someone had cut the eezo which powered it out of the core and ejected it into space.

Tali spent an hour or so trying every way she could remember, and some she invented on the spot, to reboot the core and the Engineering consoles which regulated it, before giving up. It was well and truly dead...which meant the Normandy was either drifting in space on her emergency generators, or was landed somewhere...hopefully safe.

She giggled as an irrational fear crossed her mind, and continued to laugh somewhat hysterically as she began rewiring the door out of Engineering. I hope Shepard didn't assault the Collector base without me...

RP: John Shepard

[maebyrutherford]

Cullen could scarcely believe what was happening, even after everything he had seen from their battle with Corypheus. He peered down from atop the battlements next to his office, and saw the world drop off into nothingness beyond the bridge, the mountains in the distance replaced by a sickly green mist. He was reminded of the Inquisitor's description of the fade; could it truly be? Were they somehow sucked into the sky, some sort of elaborate demon takeover of Skyhold? He needed to get outside of the keep immediately, there must be enemies afoot.

He unsheathed his sword and ran down the steps - where were his soldiers? Where was anyone? Must be a trick, an illusion, he thought to himself. If he was here, others must be as well. He didn't want to think of the alternative; that they were all dead, and he was the only one left. Even so, he wouldn't go down without a fight.

Cullen reached the bridge and looked wildly around, hearing nothing but otherwordly creaks and groans. He saw nothing. Perhaps he should return to the castle and continue to search for others.

When he turned around, a figure was standing in the entrance to Skyhold.

"Identify yourself!" Cullen shouted, his sword at the ready.

Private Character Introduction: Marian Hawke

[greenhawke_fadewalk]

Things weren't that bad in the Fade.

Marian had had a hard time healing after fighting the Nightmare Demon, to open a safe escape route for her companions. The Inquisitor, Varric and Alistair were just fine, she hoped, and that was far more than she could've asked.

Things weren't that bad in the Fade.

But throwing her back in Skyhold, only to mess with her memories was very unfair.

Private Character Introduction: Fenris

[fenrisfadewalk]

He was pacing, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. His thoughts were buzzing madly in his skull, driving him to move, markings flickering, every time he thought he'd managed to control himself again.

Danarius was dead.

He was free.

Hawke had saved him.

And he was...what? Still too cowardly to bridge the distance between them? Too frightened to bare his heart? The shackles were all in his head--wasn't that something Hawke had said to him once?

"Bah," Fenris muttered, pacing across Hawke's stone floor, waiting for the man to appear. The red token was grasped between his fingers, fluttering each time he moved. "Faste vas."

He froze when he heard the creak of a door, heart giving an unsteady lurch--but before he could so much as open his mouth to speak, the world flared white. Fenris hissed, reaching instinctively for his sword, entire body charging. He cast off blue-white light, brilliant in the dark and empty room he suddenly found himself in. Before him was a statue of Andraste. A candelabra had fallen in the corner, and darkened candles ringed her feet.

Hawke, and Hawke's Hightown mansion, were nowhere to be seen.

RP: Shepard, Kaiden & Ashley

[keelah_selai]

Down the stairs to the lower deck. Around the base of the drive core to the maintenance shaft entrance. Up a ladder, and into the duct tunnel. Up a second ladder and turn to the left. Crawl for a sixth of the ship's body and another left turn. Up a short ladder, and out into the room housing the AI Core...

The AI Core was dark and silent, just like the Engineering deck. Tali had never spent much time here - both Legion and EDI frightened Tali a little. She'd been trying to make amends, for Shepard's sake, ever since her argument with Legion, but it was hard work, overcoming years of ingrained prejudice. There was something...off about the room, though. Tali couldn't quite put her finger on what was wrong or different. It must be the lack of noise, she thought, and moved quickly to the electrical panel on the doors.

Just a few moments, and the doors to the Medbay sparked and slid open with a metallic groan.

Private - Character Introduction: Ashley

[itsinmyblood]

The world was going to hell around them. The Reapers were tearing through their defenses, killing their troops in droves and the chatter over the comm was barely heard over the sounds of the explosions crashing around her. She had lost count of how many she had killed, one thousand, two.... it didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was making sure that Shepherd got to that beam and took out the bastards before they took out what little remained of the human race.

"What's happening out there? Did anyone make it to the beam?

"No. Our team was decimated"

Ashley let out a growl as she punched a husk, shooting another before pushing forward. No, Shepherd had to have made it. She wouldn't have failed, not at this. There was too much to lose and they were so close. Shepherd couldn't be dead. Hell, even being dead hadn't stopped her the last time. And if anyone could stop the reapers it was the Commander. But the chatter continued, orders being commanded over the line, cut off by explosions and screams of the dying. Ashley grit her teeth and pushed toward the beam. If her Commander couldn't do it, if for some reason she had fallen, then the Major would just have to take her place wouldn't she? Ashley looked up just in time to see the Normandy fly off, shooting toward the sky and out of sight. Well, at least the team was okay. That was something wasn't it?

"I'm in en-route to the beam. ETA ten minutes-"

"Negative, Major. I want you to fall back. Admiral Hackett's voice cut through the chaos raining around her, and despite the unconscious urge to obey the command, Ashley pushed on. Sometimes it was better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for Permission. Shepherd had taught her that.

"Do you copy, Major? That is a direct order.

She didn't care. She continued to push, to plow through everything in her way. To ignore the pain from the wounds that drained her strength, to place one foot before the other and-

And one of the reaper's beams made contact with the Earth only ten feet in front of her, the heat searing her skin and seeming to blast through her armor. It blinded her, sent her flying backward and colliding with something that jarred every bone in her body.

And then she was falling, unable to stop as the world quickly faded to darkness.

RP: Fenris

[greenhawke_fadewalk]

Marian walked for some time in Skyhold, trying to find any clues about her reason for being dragged to that place. She could bet her ass she was still in the Fade by the looks of the sky, but the lack of demons trying to rip her heart from her chest only made her uneasy.

Through the battlements, she thought of hearing some noise coming from the garden. At last, looks like I'll meet the demon who brought me here...
Carefully, she went down stairs, facing the door to the small chapel; if memory served her well, best not fight inside such tight place. Back glued to the wall, left hand on the pommel of her sword, she pushed the door open with her right hand, and waited.

Hawke - Open to All

[fadehawke]

Waking up in unfamiliar territory was a new experience for Hawke, and the first thing he noticed about it was the fact that he wasn't brought back to consciousness by the tongue of an over-enthused dog. As if that should be a priority, he thought ruefully, even as he rolled to the side and ducked behind a pile of stacked stone bricks so he could get a look at the area without being seen. It was jarring to be suddenly relocated, almost like a dream; he'd only just seated himself down in that delightfully cushy chair by the fire in his mansion for a nap, waiting for Isabella to stop by with details for a job she'd mentioned at the Hanged Man the night before. Fully equipped, thank the Maker, which meant he had everything he might need for an escape on hand.

Actually, that was the strangest part about all of this. Why would anyone abduct him only to leave him armed and unguarded in some decrepit old castle? These are either the worst captors in history, or I've been dumped here to kill a dragon for someone.

To be fair, with his reputation (and luck), that was entirely possible.

A series of footsteps at his back makes him twist, dagger half-drawn, but he halts when he comes face to face with a tired and bewildered traveler climbing the hill towards the castle. Footprints in the snow, Hawke noticed, indicate that he'd gone wandering and had come right back. And when he gazed beyond the stranger, he realized why: outside was a vast, dark, nightmarish abyss. Eerily familiar and yet completely alien at the same time.

Frowning, he slid his dagger back into its scabbard and cautiously stood, stepping out into the courtyard. It seemed that this was no simple abduction.

Time to explore- and ask as many questions as he can come up with.

OOC: Character Requests

[varricmod]

Okay, one: we already have the most incredible cast of characters here. I am seriously dying every time someone posts.

Two: If there is a character you particularly want to see--either in your AU or just in general--go ahead and name them here! Someone may very well be inspired!

Public Post: Quarian Lullaby

[keelah_selai]

(OOC: Edited slightly to reflect Quarian culture. Click here to listen to the unedited song, sung by the lovely Julia Ecklar!)

[Tali has filled another page in the journal with mechanical diagrams, this time of the Medbay's medi-gel dispenser. A section of the page has been boxed off with softly curling vines and swirls, and contains what appears to be a quarian lullaby. It's written once in the angular script that appears to be Tali's native language, and again in Galactic Common. There is a grumpy sounding note about "losing something in translation" at the very bottom.]

I've tried to be so careful,
I've not spoken of that day.
That the sky’s sweet winds seduced me
And swayed us from our way.

We've walked only midst the star's bright shine
And banished all thought of our father’s times. 
We can't go home, must forever fly
Mid the stars that are blocked by a ship’s confines

Our world at night, like sirens,
Tries to call me from my sleep.
And I long to shove the shutter back
And listen while she speaks.

Can you tell me if our world is well,
And sing me of that which you cannot tell,
And weep for the travelers who left their place,
To be trapped for all time out in lonely space.

But our world, she sings too strongly,
Of the home I might never know.
Though we chose to live our lives out here,
I want so to choose to go.

So I can't see the light of the flames of spaces,
Or I’d wander the night with my tears on my face.
I’m sorry we roamed from our garden walls
To be lost, mute and cold, out in space’s halls.

I wish on the stars I chose not to see,
Praying no more will be lost like we.

(OOC: If anyone is interested in seeing the Quarian script version, have a link!)

Private Character Introduction: Anders

[thecryoftheseagulls]

Kirkwall burned behind them. Again. And yet somehow Anders still breathed. It was inconceivable, unfathomable, utterly beyond him. In all his careful plans, there had never been a future where he still lived after what he had done. He had dreamed of it, Hawke's dagger in his back, perhaps Meredith's blade in his chest. That was what had been supposed to happen.

Instead, and perhaps most incomprehensible of all, Hawke had dragged him away from the crowd and thrust him against the wall of an alley and kissed him and railed at him and...told him she loved him? Perhaps he had dreamed that part. She was not a woman of many words when it came to such things. They had been together for over three years, and still she had never told him that.

When Hawke joined him at the prow and laced her fingers with his, he knew it had been real, the way she'd held him with the wreck of the Chantry just beyond them and kissed him and cried.

"Justice isn't going to throw you over the rail in some fit of pique to provide justice for all those dead Sisters, is he?" She asked, tilting her head and looking up at him with furrowed brows.

Anders laughed, a broken sound. "No. He seems to have decided we are better off continuing to help, thanks to you."

"Good," she said. She pressed against his side and turned to gaze back out across the water, to the city they were leaving behind.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around Anders' waist, a sharp chin resting on his shoulder.

"Foolish mage," Fenris's voice rumbled in his ear, warm, even if frustrated still.

Anders still didn't know what he did to get the Maker to spare him thus, but with Fenris at his back and Hawke at his side, he felt true hope for the first time in a long time. He looked back, too, at Kirkwall, City of Chains, and had only time to hope that perhaps some were broken, now, before the ship rocked violently, nearly pitching him over the side. A rushing noise filled his ears, like all the air around him being drawn elsewhere, and then a loud crack rent the air and a brilliant green light blinded him before everything went black.

When he reeled forward again, sure he was going to fall over the ship's rail again, he barely managed to catch himself. Except the material he founds under his palms was hard stone, not wood, and he was alone, no bodies pressed against him. He appeared to be...on the edge of some battlement? This was a stronghold he did not recognize, and in the garden below him was a great contraption of metal whose like he had never seen. It felt familiar, like the Fade, even had that strange green quality to the air, but he knew immediately that it was not the Fade, not quite. For one, he was still in control of his body. Justice shuddered violently in his mind and declared wherever they had found themselves WRONG WRONG WRONG.

There was a peculiar leather bound book, like a journal, in his palm. Anders glanced at it.

Private Character Introduction: Sera

[serafadewalk]

The thing about sleeping in your own bed, is expect it to stay yours, like. No exploding mirrors and Fade-y shite in the middle of the night. Or morning. Or whatever the bloody time it turned out to be after you woke up some place wrong.

"Shitter piss lick bollocks faced bunghole!" Sera stood in the window of her garret at the Herald's Rest peeking out from behind the casement, an arrow sighted and waiting. The first flicker of demon, the first ickle bit of green glowy stuff, and right in the eye. The left eye. Right in the left eye, for balance like.

If her hands would stop bloody shaking.

The book was open on the seat and she kept glancing down at it, watching scratches and doodles and all sorts of pissy demon lying nonsense fill it in. She shouldn't even wonder that creepy Cole was scribbling in there, because demons, yeah?

But Varric? That just sounded so... Varricy. She sighed and released the tension on the string, lowered her bow. She'd been standing there an hour and hadn't seen bloody nothing at any rate.

She picked up her quill, the magic one she'd lifted from Josephine and had to hide for three days in the attic to keep out of Leliana's way, settled down to the floor, chin resting on the bottom edge of the book. "Please, please please don't suck my soul out my fingers or make me write in blood or anything else, Maker hear my bloody prayers."

She started to write.

OOC: Echoes of Selves

[varricmod]

So, something interesting happened in a thread, and since we're taking a kind of "why not!" approach to things, we're going to try running with it.

You know how sometimes in these sorts of games, the timeline gets a little screwed up as you play in different threads using the same character? Well, now you have the option of explaining those snarls as an echo.

Basically, in this strange Fade/not-Fade, sometimes an echo of a character can appear. This echo is exactly like its original self and says/does everything the original would have done. This means that, for instance, Neria can be in a scene with Varric and have written in the journal on one hand while having run across Cullen and Alistair with no knowledge of the rest of the castle or the journal on the other.

One of those Nerias is an echo. It will eventually dissipate, most likely when she is alone. Whichever Neria is the original version won't know or remember anything about what happened in her echo's scene until she goes to sleep. When she wakes up, either:

1) The memories merge and she remembers both scenes, or
2) The memories try to merge and she forgets both scenes, or
3) The memories of the echo fade and she only remembers the original scene.

This gives you a lot to play around with with memory and self and general spookiness of this place. It also detangles some of the threads that accidentally overlap!

Public Post

[varricmod]

So here's the thing.

Whatever the running theory is (Fade, demons, alternate worlds, Eluvian fuckery), for right now, we're stuck here. Someone else can take charge of all the perimeter checking and puzzle solving and magic book reading--that isn't where my skill set tends to lie.

I'm the guy you go to for a beer and a good story. And, in this case, food and a bed.

I've started taking inventory of basic provisions. More details on that later. I've also started pulling together some general necessities, like blankets and changes of clothing. I'm sorting them in the great hall--grab what you need, but please mark down what you take so we can keep an accurate count. If you need help finding a place to sleep, let me know and I'll help get you settled.

Okay, all that shit aside, I think we need to try to gather together--all of us--and start getting to know faces and names. I'm Varric Tethras--short guy, blonde hair, can't miss me. I'll be cooking a group meal for anyone who wants to come to the grand hall to get it. I'll also pull out some cards. We need some levity pretty damn fast.

The military sort can worry about keeping us safe. Me? I'll work on keeping us comfortable and sane.

Private Character Introduction: Dorian Pavus

[legacyofhousepavus]

Dying was, surprisingly, just like many of the idealists claimed it would be. Everything hurt a lot, and then it didn't. Laying on the hard ground, Dorian tried to go over what had just happened in his mind, but all that was coming to him was, This is it? No more searing pain from multiple open wounds (thankfully, none on the face). No more white-hot agony of magical fire. Just the mild discomfort in his shoulder from laying on his side on a stone surface. And he hadn't even been able to give a dramatic death soliloquy!

But he couldn't just lay here forever.

Dorian opened his eyes, then quickly shut them against what he was met with. He would have recognized his little nook in the Skyhold library from any angle, even where he was on the floor. (He may or may not have fallen asleep drunk there one night and slid out of the chair, but no one talks about that.) More cautiously, he opened his eyes again and sat up. He supposed it made sense that his after-life fade escapade would take place in a mimic of Skyhold. Those were some of the best years of his life, after all.

Getting to his feet was easy, for someone who had apparently just met their mortal fate. He dusted off the seat of his pants (You just couldn't escape dust in a library, even in the fade.), and poked his head out of the inlet. The whole floor seemed devoid of people. Spirits? Demons? Whatever he might encounter in the fade.

Private Character Introduction: Zevran

[zevranfadewalk]

The best thing about being an elf was that if you knew how to keep your steps quiet and your eyes downcast, no one looked at you twice. Even if you were supposedly one of the most famous elves in Ferelden.

Zevran slipped silently across the marbled floor, smiling to himself. Breaking into the palace had been easy, and getting access to the royal wing was proving to be easier still. He moved right past the entire queensguard without raising the alarm. Even the tin suit standing guard right outside her door barely flicked him a glance.

Deliberately tempting fate, unable to help himself, Zevran paused. "New linens for her Majesty," he said, barely bothering to disguise the round purr of his Antivan accent.

( Cut for some blood/an assassination )

Public Post

[legacyofhousepavus]

 "Look at this book, it's probably a demon's trap. Let's write in it!" Yes, Dorian, this is one of your best ideas yet. Write in the demon journal for no other reason than to satisfy your own curiosity. You haven't learned anything.

I amend: Write to yourself in the demon journal. That's better.

RP: Alistair

[zevranfadewalk]

Zevran literally walked out the door of the palace and into Skyhold.

He froze, immediately on high alert, then quickly melted into the shadows--after snagging the book that had tumbled to his feet. Finding a high, quiet place where he could watch the hall without being seen, Zevran had spent hours listening in to conversations and flipping through the strange journal.

Not-the-Fade, eluvians, people from different worlds and versions of reality, no escape. All trapped together like bears in a circus. All right, he could deal with that.

Eventually he began scouting the castle, hiding in alcoves and eavesdropping as a matter of course. Entertaining himself as well as gathering the information he'd need to finally announce his presence. It was the sound of a familiar voice that had him hesitating as he crept along a beam high in the rafters, however. He waited, utterly still, and watched as a vaguely familiar man, an unfamiliar woman, and...ah yes...Alistair passed. Beginning to grin to himself, Zevran followed a safe distance behind and waited patiently for Alistair to move off on his own. The bar was there beneath him, practically calling the man's name. It was only a matter of time.

Once Alistair finally appeared, Zevran waited just long enough to be certain the man and woman weren't on his heels. Then he swung down on whisper-light feet, dropping onto the bar just far enough away to avoid getting beer splashed on his nice new boots. "And I thought to myself," Zevran said, starting the conversation mid-thought the way he sometimes did, "where would my friend go to try to sort out his own head? And so, here you are and here am I."