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

Honestly, he's a bit surprised that before burning the bodies they hadn't thought of digging a hole to put them in so that they could bury the remains afterwards. Perhaps it would have taken too much time - but this was taking up time too - or maybe the ground was just unmanageable? Whatever the reason, the pile of ashes has Sam leaning most of his weight on his staff.

Beleth is enjoying this even less then he is, and he watches with interest at the variety of faces she makes while she tries to come up with ways to get rid of their problem. "Well if they were plague victims maybe we should start off with getting some masks and gloves. We can separate the ashes into piles and then... I can freeze them? Would be easier to carry them elsewhere and bury them away from the village."

She blinks at the idea, eyes widening as she turns to Sam. "That's--That's a really good idea. I didn't even think about masks for ourselves. Do you think we're at risk...?" They're probably trying to kill her, aren't they? Maybe not, but she's still not too thrilled with this. Eyes still on the ashes, she heaves a sigh, running a hand through her hair--Then spending a few moments tugging out the knots, because thick curly hair and unending dampness don't go well together.

"Well," She starts, frowning up at her hair as she attempts to detangle it. "If we made the piles smaller...We could probably make small enough holes. The issue is that this ground is soggy. Permeated with water. "It'll be hard to dig in, but if we have small enough holes...We can probably do it." She glances at Sam, giving him a haphazard smile as she let her hair drop. "I think that's the solution. Thank you."

Good idea. Yeap, that was him. Sam the sneaky blacksmith mage who surprised you with deep and/or helpful ideas. Sam cannot help but snort a bit in amusement at the look Beleth is giving him - it's cute. "Honestly? I'm not sure. Burning bodies is supposed to help get rid of illnesses or plagues... but we don't know what caused this. If it's magic then it could be harder to deal with. Why I'm suggesting the precautions."

Somehow Beleth manages to keep the smile on his face despite the dreariness of the bog and their situation - what was she doing with her hair? "We'll just have to figure where we're burying the ashes. Can't go too far, but better not to bury it near the water supply."

Gosh, Sam. She's not surprised that you had a good idea. She's more surprised that something that simple of an idea hadn't occurred to her while she was wracking her brain trying to figure out how to take care of this stuff. She was less surprised at Sam being smart, and more surprised that she was being dumb.

"The problem is, that everywhere around here is water. I think I saw some ground that was far enough away from the water over yonder, near where the mountain rises." She gestured over in the direction. "There had been some corpses wandering about, though. So we'll have to get a cart to take the ashes, and kill the stuff that's around there." She gives up on her hair, letting it drop back down and ruffled it a little to attempt to not make it look like the rat's nest it's turned into. Whatever, she was just with Sam. What did she care if she didn't look her best.

"Alright, hold on. I'll go finagle a cart and some gloves and masks out of the suppliers. At least I have a perfectly good way to threaten them--If we don't get the supplies, they get to keep their pile of dead people." With that, she disappeared, only to reappear some time later, with the spoils of her victory--One slightly wobbly cart and some patched masks and gloves, as well as two shovels.

"Alright...I guess our first job with be dividing the piles of ash, right?"

Before he could say anything else Beleth is gone. She's quick, he'll give her that. So during the time that Beleth is gone, Sam just babysits the pile of wet ashes, not even bothering to go near it to get anything started.

He's found a rock to sit on and started to doze off by the time Beleth comes back, the wobbling of the cart drawing his attention. He does thank Beleth for the gloves and mask, but he continues to stare at the cart. "Yeah," he says a bit absentmindedly. "Is there enough ground to even use a cart to get where you're suggesting?"

She blinks, glancing at him, than the cart. Then tilting her head as she recalled the path to the grounds that she'd thought of. "Well...a few parts may be a bit patchy, but...do you have a better suggestion? Besides, if it gets too tough, we can just haul it however far we need to. Which...shouldn't be more than a couple yards. None of the ground is that bad. And it gets better."

She shrugs, passing him his mask and gloves. "It's the only idea that I have. If you know a better place, I'd be happy to try it." She says it without any sarcasm--if Sam did have a better plan, it'd be better for her, too. She doesn't care who comes up with the best plan, as long as it gets this gross, nasty job done.

He gives a shrug in return, taking the mask and gloves gratefully. "I don't have an issue with the place. I just don't look forward to getting yelled yet if we end up losing the cart in the bog." There's a grin playing there on his face, which gets covered up quickly by the mask.

After donning on the gloves Sam gives a sigh as he eyes the pile again, not all too pleased to be doing this. "You didn't happen to grab a shovel while you were out did you?"

His grin earned him a little smile, and she quickly ducked her head away, putting her own mask on. Well, this was definitely the fun and glamour that she'd been after when she agreed to join the Inquisition. Taking care of the ashes of plague corpses. She perks up slightly at the mention of shovels, and reaches into the cart, pulling out two shovels.

"I did one better." One gets passed to Sam, and she keeps the other while she puts her own gloves on. "As for the cart...you can blame me if things go sideways with it." Or any other direction that ends up with it sinking into the ground. She took a few steps forward, and eyed the pile. Even after getting everything set up...she really wasn't looking forward to this.

"I need hazard pay." She muttered grimly.

"We're getting paid for this?" he says with amusement, already sticking his shovel into the pile of wet ashes. Just looking at it isn't going to get anything done, and he'd rather get this particular job done quickly. He honestly feels bad that these peoples' ashes were being treated like this, but the living were their biggest priority.

He at least hoped someone had said a prayer for the dead.

"Don't make the piles too big otherwise they'll be hard to carry."

Edited 2015-11-21 06:50 (UTC)

"We'd better be, I'm not doing this for charity." She replied grimly, and finally begins helping Sam move the pile of ashes, grimacing behind her mask the entire time. There is going to be no bath that will completely make this feeling of grossness go away. She wished she'd had more than one set of armor, so she could consider burning this set. As it was, she'd just have to wash it. A lot. Maybe smoke it out.

And pray over it a bit.

She nods after he suggests keeping the piles small. And with a small sigh, gets to work, sorting the ashes into small piles. There was no doubt they were getting all mixed up, but there was only so much they could do. A pity, but that was life, particularly with a plague.

"Think of this--at least these corpses won't be coming after us, huh?"

"Careful what you say, Bel. I wouldn't put it past the ashes to form together into blobs and come right for you. Making squishing noises all the way." He wiggles his fingers a bit at Beleth, making a squishing sound behind the mask. He's just teasing obviously, trying to help lighten the mood, since doing this is both bothering and gross.

At least it wasn't shit like Gavin was doing. This would be a lot worse if there was a smell other than smoke.

"Bel--? Hey! Don't joke about that!" She huffed at him, and Sam could at least see her eyebrows knit together, though it didn't hold any true animosity. "That's so gross. If it happens, I'm making you deal with it. And I'll just sit here with the cart and laugh." The threat was somewhat put off with her preoccupation of sorting the ashes into neat little piles, and it wasn't too hard to see that her nose was wrinkling up as she worked.

"When I get back to Skyhold, I'm soaking in the bath for fifteen minutes, pouring it out, drawing a new bath, and repeating until I stop feeling disgusting." She gave a little sigh. Super hot water, too. Turn her skin red as a lobster. I feel like everything in here has just...soaked into my skin."

Sam breaks out into a fit of laughter at Beleth's reaction, watching how her eyes narrow, or how her nose wrinkled under the mask. She's also practically saying she'll feed him to the imaginary ash blobs while watching from the side lines.

It's good to see her so lively.

It is quite a change from her usual shy demeanor, or the way she tries to guess what to do in order to make others happier. Despite their current situation she seems almost... happy, taking the teasing in stride and even teasing him back

"I believe there's a hot spring back at Skyhold. Not sure if it's hot enough to turn you into a red lobster though." A bath and a soak do sound wonderful, and Sam isn't far behind in the idea of just living in a warm bath for about a day to get the Mire out of all his pores.

"Do you not like being called 'Bel'?" She had stumbled on that before. Was the nickname a bit much?

"That might work, too." She replied thoughtfully, giving a little shrug. Hopefully the hot spring was up to the task of all of the gunk and grossness people would be bringing in from this place. Otherwise they might be out a bathing source. At least that would be easier to stay in all day than a bathtub.

She squints at Sam when he laughs at her, and rolls her eyes, but stops when he asks about the nickname that he gave her. She liked Sam, she didn't want him to feel like she was distancing herself from him--But at the same time, it was odd to hear anyone besides a select few call her that. She's not sure if she's fine with it or not-or what Sam will think for either choice.

"I'm just...not use to being called that by most people. There's only a few people who call me Bel--my brother, Merrick. Usually, everyone else just calls me Beleth." She shrugged, fingers readjusting, fiddling around with her grip on the shovel as she worked. "But--you can call me whatever you want. I'd prefer it wasn't rude, but if you really insist..." Her eyes crinkled a little at that. A lame joke, but a joke.

He doesn't really get the joke, but Beleth seems amused by it so in turn he just smiles back, which is obscured by the mask. "I'll just stick to calling you Beleth then, since that's what you're used to." She sounds so uncertain about it, which Sam can only take as being uncomfortable. Giving a small shrug he returns to separating the large pile into smaller ones.

For a time there is silence, save for the sound of their shovels as the pile grew smaller and smaller. It was repetitive work, which left him with a decent amount of things to think about. Particularly something that they kind of touched upon back after the Mage meeting.

Stopping in his shoveling, Sam tilts his head and gives Beleth a curious look before leaning on the long handle, much he would his staff. "I've noticed you haven't been going to the tavern a whole lot." Since the Wake actually, but he doesn't say that. Beleth never seemed like one to hang around that place, but she often went to a certain someone who was there too much that he was almost a landmark. "... Are you and Krem on bad terms?" Because of me? That he does want to say, but again leaves that out.

"It doesn't matter to me," Is all she says on the subject. She feels a little bad--did Sam think less of her? Nicknames were a sign of friendship. Had she just told him to fuck off with his friendship? Ugh, he probably thought so. Good going.

And it didn't get better. She wasn't sure what to say with the silence between them, what she wanted to say. Maybe she shouldn't even bother trying, did she even want to be his friend? She hadn't been trying to be around him since then either, but he just kept...appearing. Like a dog that didn't understand you were mad at it.

But apparently the one she'd managed to successfully avoid hadn't gone unnoticed. Damn. At first, she just shrugs, mumbling into her mask. "I'm not really much of a drinker in the first place..." But then Sam went ahead and asked, as blunt as could be. Are she and Krem on bad terms. No, they weren't on any terms. That was the problem. She averted her eyes, as though this pile of ash were the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.

"No. I don't think so. I'm just--" Lips pressed thin, she searched for a term that could explain, without actually...explaining. "--I don't want to bother him. I've already done that enough. I'm sure he hasn't noticed."

He definitely hears what she's saying, but he's not really buying it. Not with the way Beleth is looking at the pile of ashes as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world even though not too long ago she was gagging over it.

"I noticed," he states matter-of-factly; if he noticed then the Charger for sure noticed. There's another stretch of silence before Sam gives a sigh, standing back up straight. "I'm sorry."

"Why did you notice?" She counters, glancing up at him. It's easier to give someone a neutral face when it's half hidden. No wonder Orlesians liked masks so much, she was starting to see their use--particularly when playing The Game. "Why do you even care...?" It's asked as politely as she can manage--Why would Sam care? He won, hands down. So why did he care what she did afterward, enough to notice, and to voice what he noticed?

"...But there's no reason for you to be sorry about anything. I've just--I don't want to bother him. And I would just be a bother, if I hung around there. I don't need alcohol that badly."

He's honestly surprised that Beleth is asking, it seemed like a given that he would. "Is it really that strange that I would? Seems like a natural thing to do with someone you're friends with?" Well at least he considered Beleth a friend, though maybe it was different for her. They were friendly enough though.

She was worried that she was bothering Krem? "You're not a bother. Why would you think that?"

They were friends.

Sam had said it as naturally as breathing, like he hadn't even considered the fact that they might not be friends. Which just makes her feel guilty. She hadn't been trying to be friends--she'd been trying to avoid him, just like she had with Krem. But Sam persisted in showing up, and Beleth couldn't deny that she liked being around him, even if she had reasons to dislike him.

It was strange, but. She did like Sam. She wanted to be friends with him.

And they were, apparently. So that was convenient.

"...I'm just not used to people...noticing the stuff I do. And I'm used to being a bother. So it makes sense. I don't think Krem would want me around, anyway. All I do is...act like an idiot around him."

Unfortunately for Beleth, Sam was indeed the persistent type and he had a habit of keeping tabs on people. He also had an overabundance of patience, too. Things he was natural at, but finely tuned while in the Circle.

The fact that Beleth thinks she's an idiot certainly surprises Sam, and the Mage just looks at her for a moment with raised brows. "Well he lets me hang around." She can't see it but he's grinning, poking fun at himself a bit to make her feel better. He didn't know what Krem thought, but from the times the three of them had been around each other it was obvious to see that the mercenary had not minded Beleth at all.

"He's dating you." The words slip out of her mouth before she can stop them, and she almost looks surprised at herself for saying it. But her eyes go back to the ashes, working on them with a renewed fervor, anything to distract her from this subject. "You're not an idiot, but it wouldn't matter, even if you were. He likes you." There was a lot of things left unsaid, things that she wanted to shout.

He picked you, he likes you, more than he likes me, you get to be an idiot if you want because he picked you.

The pile finished, she threw her shovel down. "Let me know when you're done freezing it."

Obviously she was upset by that, he knew that, but still the way she snaps at him surprises Sam a bit. He didn't know she was THIS upset, not from the way she's talked to him up till now.

At seeing her practically throw her shovel, Sam blinks, dropping his own shovel and walking over to Beleth before she can just walk off, reaching out to grab her hand. He's mindful to grab her wrist where the glove is, only firm enough to keep her from walking off right away, but loose enough that she could pull away if she really wanted.

"That doesn't mean he doesn't like you, Beleth." Reaching up Sam pulls the mask away a bit so that he can talk without the cover of the mask, frowning a bit. "Look, I understand how much it sucks, and I'm sorry you got hurt, but it doesn't have to be an 'all or nothing' kind of thing."

She doesn't stop him when he grabs for her, and doesn't pull away from him. She's not thrilled, but she already did enough damage with that little tantrum that she just threw, there's no need to keep it up. So she bottles up that stupid frustration again--and it certainly doesn't help that Sam is being so nice about it. If he was awful, if he yelled, if he treated her like he should, then it would be easier to handle, she could feel vindicated. But he's so nice, and patient, and it just makes her feel worse, that she's being so petty about a good thing happening to a good person.

"...I can see why he likes you." She muttered it quietly, pulling down her own mask. She turned to look at Sam, a thin smile on her face. "You're a really good person Sam--I mean that. I'm sorry that I got mad. You didn't do anything wrong, and you don't deserve me snipping at you over nothing."

He was expecting her to continue yelling, maybe stomp her feet, anything to get that frustration out, but instead he's met with a complete 180. It catches him off guard, but seeing that Beleth doesn't look like she's going to storm off he releases her wrist.

Though it's said quietly there isn't anything happening to prevent him from hearing her words, which has his cheeks coloring a bit. He almost rubs the back of his head with his hand because of it, but quickly remembers about his gloves and ashes and instead awkwardly puts his hand back down at his side.

He could make a joke that Krem likes punching him more, but it wouldn't be fair to downplay the compliments Beleth is trying to give him. And all of this is hardly 'nothing'. "You're a good person as well, Beleth. Krem sees that too, and it's obvious that he likes spending time with you." Well he certainly was a lot nicer to Beleth than him most of the time anyways. "You shouldn't feel like you need to distance yourself."

THE FALLOW MIRE

4: Hey I didn't just meet you, and this is crazy, lets mess with ashes maybe

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