faderift | THE FALLOW MIRE

THE FALLOW MIRE

WHO: Open to all
WHAT: The Inquisition sends forces to the Fallow Mire to deal with undead, plague, and missing scouts.
WHEN: Firstfall
WHERE: The Fallow Mire: Inquisition camps, Fisher's End, The Tavern, etc.
NOTES: For more information about the setting and RP opportunities in it, check out the OOC Post.

The trip down the mountains from Skyhold is no walk in the park, and south of the Hinterlands the land turns wet and miserable, subject to seemingly endless storms. Villagers have tried to carve out a meagre existence in the Fallow Mire, but their lives are under constant threat by a tidal wave of undead rising from the murky waters flooding much of the region.

The Inquisition has sent a sizeable force, and travel back and forth between the Mire and Skyhold happens as often and as quickly as conditions allow. The camp is a neat patch of tents on the largest bit of dry land to be found. "Dry" is relative; everything's still pretty muddy. There are several clusters of tents, tucked between rock outcroppings and abandoned buildings, the least leaky of which are being used to store what supplies the Inquisition has managed to haul in over the difficult terrain. Campfires are numerous and fill the area with a constant smouldering glow and low-hanging cloud of smoke that mingles with the morning and evening fogs. It's lovely, really.

Fisher's End barely even counts as a village-- just a haphazard handful of ramshackle buildings perched on the edge of the swamp-- but it does have a single tavern. It's a dreary-looking wooden shack like every other structure in the area, distinguishable only by the lamp still lit above the door and the sign that swings creakily in the breeze. Whatever was painted on it has long since worn away and been molded over. The place is just known as "the tavern" because it is literally the only tavern for miles and miles around.

Inside is dim and smoky from peat-burning fires in the two grates. There are a half-dozen tables with benches, none of which ever seem quite level on the uneven floor. The bar is tended by Thorolf, a grizzled bearded fellow with a local accent so thick he's almost unintelligible. No matter the time of day he serves a simple fisherman's meal of hard bread, salted fish, and a hunk of strong cheese. His cellar is stocked with exactly three varieties of alcohol: one ale, one wine, and one spirit, all of which are strong and dark. There aren't many locals left, but there are usually a few hunched over a mug or huddled around the fire.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ellana has to shake her head at Korrin's question, because it really makes no sense to settle here unless every other option isn't possible. Or there might be something special they don't know about this place.

"The only thing I can think of is that the weather wasn't always so bad and the fishing must have been plentiful. The corpses weren't always here, right? After things turned sour, people were probably so set in their ways, they didn't want to move elsewhere. If fishing is all you know, you might wish to cling to it."

As someone who's always been on the move and never attached to any one place, Korrin can't grasp that mentality. She just shakes her head, utterly puzzled. Humans confused her at times anyway, but this was on a whole new level.

"Yeah, but there can't really be any fish left in those waters now, can there? It's just a corpse-ridden, disease-infested mess. We can't drink it or wash with it, it's only good for destroying any chance we have of ever feeling dry again."

"That's true, but they probably aren't used to just packing up and moving. Maybe they don't own a horse or other animal that can pull a wagon, and there are bandits out there on the roads. You and I are used to a life on the move." Though Ellana's was spent avoiding settlements and humans.

"I do wish for a mug of something hot and dry feet." She stretches out her feet, looking at her wet boots.

"And I want a griffon, but we're just as likely get it as the dry feet. The tavern's just barely worthy of the name, but maybe they'll have that other wish of yours. I can't say it'll be drinkable, though."

She opens her pack, determined to change into something relatively dry and clean. Used to camp life, there's not much modesty in her, so she doesn't think twice about stripping out of her gear. Her own sodden boots are right next to the entrance, so they don't drip all over the place.

"The best thing the Inquisition can do is evacuate everyone from here. Hopefully they'll take the assistance so we don't have to return."

Ellana doesn't really care one way or the other. To her, she felt the aravels were too cramped to change in, so she had always stayed out in the open, but somewhat behind an aravel to change. What Korrin was doing wasn't a big deal to her, and Ellana untied her boots, toeing them off.

"Having our support should be enough to convince them that this place is no longer livable."

"The sooner, the better. You can't step into anything deep than a puddle without those Maker-damned corpses popping up, and even then, I swear that happens even if I'm only near the water, not in it. I can't wait for us to find the rest of those beacons so we can finally avoid that shit."

Sure, it attracts demons, but Korrin doesn't actually mind that since they're good targets on which to take out her hatred of the place. She sets her armor aside, planning to clean it in a moment, before first changing into a fresh undershirt and pants that aren't sodden past the knees.

"How has that been going? I hope it hasn't been too dangerous." Ellana follows suit, wiggling out of her wet things to replace them with dry ones. She's been sticking to gathering herbs and metals, and she's seen plenty of undead while doing so. The addition of demons would make things harder.

"It's eating into our potion supply, there's no denying that. But, I think we're off to a good start, clearing away what we can so that there's a safer route through all this mess. Granted, that's relative."

Korrin plops down on her bedroll, wanting to stretch out but remaining seated so she can take a rag to her armor and wipe it down. The rain's kept most of it clean enough, but past her knees it's a mess. "Ugh, my armor's going to smell like swamp forever, isn't it? I wonder if we can commission new armor when we return."

"We could, though it would probably mean being put on a list and having to wait for awhile." Her own armor is a mixture of Dalish mage robes (which she arrived to Skyhold wearing) and boots with cloth leggings to replace the leather leggings and bare feet.

"Maybe there are ways to clean it that will take the smell away. That and a good airing out." The Dalish make do with what little they have, so she's trying to think of options here.

"That's not going to happen here, so I won't even try. But if you find out anything good, I'd love to hear it. I'd ask the locals, but most of those we've met needed immediate help, so it would've been crass." That and she's pretty sure the tavern owners want nothing in the way of conversation, not that she's wanted to remain in that depressing place for longer than need be.

"If that campfire hasn't gone out, I suppose we could stand near it and see if that helps. But after being on my feet all day, you'll have to give me a bit."

"It may be that we'll just have to get used to the smell for as long as we're here. Then we'll return to Skyhold and they'll shut the gate before we get in. The smell will precede us."

Ellana takes off her belt, lifts off the top part of her armor, and works on unbuckling her chain mail. Her fingers are cold and her limbs feel heavy. But she tells herself that this is the last task she has to do today and she can push through. Exhaling a tired breath, her fingers pull at the leather, freeing them from the buckles and allowing her to pull the chain mail away.

"I know the feeling. It's been hard work for everyone today. And I can't see it being any better tomorrow. It's up to you if you'd like to stand by the fire. I'll go with you if you do, but I'm fine just getting under the blanket and trying to warm up that way."

Korrin pauses in her work and sighs upon inspecting the armor. That's about as good as she can get, given the circumstances, but she's far from satisfied. She normally takes great care with it, so anything less is frustrating. But she reluctantly sets it aside after another attempt at cleanliness, scowling at any stains as though they've personally insulted her. Those stains won't even be visible when she's trudging through the mire tomorrow, though.

"I'm too weary to make a decision at the moment, though that'll probably end up with staying here. If I have to choose between warm and dry, dry takes precedence. But we'll see." She smirks a little. "That's gratitude for you, eh? We toil away here only to get exiled afterward. Unless they have that dream bath house built that Zevran and I were fantasizing about earlier."

A tap at the tent flap before Pel sticks her head in, grinning.

"Ellana. Oh--both of you. Have you seen the runes? You especially, Ellana. This is our ancestry."

She's fangirling her ancestors' magical prowess. It's not necessarily easy to tell unless one knows her well that this is a shameless display of excitement from her.

Edited 2015-11-12 17:37 (UTC)

"Is that a house just for baths, as the name implies?" Ellana asks, tilting her head in question. She's never heard of such a place before, but a full bath sounds nice. The clan certainly didn't have tubs to take a warm soak in.

Her gaze shifts to the tent opening and she shakes her head no at Pel. "I've been gathering resources for the Inquisition."

"It's a building for one, or several, really large ones. Imagine having that much hot water to soak in...." Korrin looks dreamy just imagining it, but she snaps to and perks up when Pel enters. The Vashoth mage flashes her a smile, rarer in the Mire than in Skyhold.

"I have, yes. I've been around helping light beacons for most of the day. Veilfire runes aren't like anything I've ever seen...or felt, but they're fascinating."

"Ellana, you have to come with me to see. This is our heritage, lethallan. You come too, Korrin, it's not at all far."

She reaches to snatch Ellana's hand and drag her from the tent.

"Now? But I just got undressed!" Well, partially undressed. "I need new socks. And to put my armor back on. And Korrin does too." She's quite sure she's never seen Pel so excited before. And if she's honest, Ellana would dearly love see these runes. She wants to see elven ruins too, but it appears the Mire doesn't have those.

"Can we not look tomorrow?"

Korrin doesn't protest, at least partly because Ellana already beat her to it. She glances to her armor and shrugs, resigned to it never being as pristine as she wants it to be here. Oh, well. The Vashoth mage reaches for it, glad that at least it's excitement and not an emergency prompting its use.

"Give me a minute, and I can fix that. I wouldn't mind learning more about those, though this means I'll definitely want that campfire afterward." If she's going out in that again, it's a thing that has to happen.

Pel looks torn. Ellana does seem to have bedded down. But runes. But comfy mages.

"Tomorrow, if you want. Before dawn, if you're up to it."

Ellana nods, because that's really the best plan.

"I'm sure we all have tasks to do tomorrow, so before I have to go supply gathering again would be good."

Korrin nods to that as she sets her armor aside again. "Whatever passes for 'dawn' in this place can't be much lighter than it is now, but I can wait until then. You're welcome to stick around for a while, though."

She wouldn't think to interfere with clanmates talking, though how much longer she'll be awake is up for debate.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

THE FALLOW MIRE

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject