faderift | OPEN: Cloudreach Event

OPEN: Cloudreach Event

WHO: Anyone at Skyhold
WHAT: Cloudreach showers bring weird shit.
WHEN: Cloudreach 15 onward
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: For information about the illness, its effects, and its cure, please make sure to also read the OOC Post.

This high in the mountains, snowstorms are to be expected. But this one is large and lingering, hanging over the valley and the fortress for days. In Skyhold, with its eternal spring, the snow becomes rain before it hits the ground, leaving inhabitants and visitors to wade through puddles and mud in the courtyards. In the valley, snow and ice accumulate under cloud cover—and worse, when the clouds finally thin, a whole winter's accumulation of snow begins to melt in the sunlight.

Within a day, the ground is sodden and mucky enough to give the survivors of the Fallow Mire (or Ferelden in general) unpleasant flashbacks, and those who live in tents are issued additional hastily-constructed wooden pallets to raise their floors above the mud. It is worse outside the fortress: streams and rivers have overflowed their banks, rapids run twice as fast as normal, and flash flooding has made even road travel treacherous.

On Cloudreach 17 a mudslide buries the pass into Skyhold from the west, and on the 19th a sheet of snow loosened from a mountainside collapses into the shadowed passage from the east. An Inquisition supply caravan is caught in the latter, scattering wagons and goods across the hillside and leaving a dozen people and horses in need of rescue and medical care.

Healers may find themselves stretched thin, as in addition to the usual rash of blisters and sniffles that come from days of rain and flooding, an illness begins to sweep through Skyhold's ranks from around the 16th onward. It's marked first by climbing fever, then by flashes at the edges of vision—green light and jagged formations that aren't there, beings of light and shadow gathering around people or clustering in corners—and distant voices, coherent for brief moments if you're quiet and still and not trying too hard to listen.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Camp Shady Fucker]

Teren always boils any water she consumes, and would think this common sense, but 'sense' is not something she generally associates with the majority of the Wardens in their camp, so... well, here they are. She has dropped most of her other duties to ensure that everyone is warm and well-fed, and each day she makes the rounds of all the tents she knows to contain a sick person, then glares at them until they eat what she considers to be enough.
The good thing about so much snow around is that it's easy to make cold compresses, and even better because she isn't using the tainted water to do so.

[The Healing Tents]

Periodically Teren traipses up to the Keep and its healing tents to acquire more potions and herbal teas to treat the suffering below. She is not an entirely cheerful presence, but she's doing what she can.

He's burning up, but there's little he can do about it. There's work to do. He's finishing another batch of potions when Teren comes in, and gives her a wan smile.

"How are you holding up?" She looks better than most people around here, actually.

"Fit as a fiddle," Teren replies, and, noticing the glaze in Anders' eyes, goes over to mash her hand against his forehead. "And you're not, so I don't know why in Andraste's name you're not in bed."

"No rest for the wicked." There's the faintest smile on his lips as he lets her gauge his temperature. "That, and healer. This is where I can be of use, rather than flat on my back. But don't worry, I've felt worse."

He's even semi-well-fed right now, which is an improvement.

"What can I get for you, and how's the Warden camp?"

"At least tell me you're drinking enough," she sighs, "...of boiled snow, that is. I hear the well's tainted, no sodding wonder." She's amazed as many of the Wardens are ill as they are, but supposes they've probably been up here and using the well a lot more often than she has.

"Stable," she gruffly replies, "nobody's keeled over yet, small blessings, though all the afflicted are still carrying on about invisible things. It's enough to make your skin crawl."

"I'm drinking enough. I know to stay hydrated." He's a healer, he wants to add, but at the same time that won't really back him up. Healers sometimes make the worst patients.

The other gets a raised eyebrow, though. "The spirits and demons are always watching, whether or not you can see them. And Justice is always present as well. Are you... It's been so long since I've not had magic that not being aware of them is a puzzle anymore."

Well that's..... troubling.
"Justice," she repeats, almost as a scoff-- oh yeah, that guy. The one who caused all the trouble. In her heart of hearts, she might admit she's unnerved by the idea of invisible creatures hanging all around her and everyone else, unbeknownst to them, but... there's no sense in being upset about a thing she can't control.

"And you can see them?" she asks, a bit curiously.

"If I'm not trying. Though that's only right now, with the fever. Generally, no. They're watching, but we can't see them."

It almost sounds like she doubts Justice is there, which has the spirit complaining. Thankfully Anders doesn't have to argue him down or even worry about what he's saying; Teren can't hear.

"Did you want to know which ones are around?"

"Are they." Teren glances furtively around, then back to the mage. She isn't shaken, per se, but her unease is growing. "I don't see why not," she replies, to his question.
Though Teren is not exactly riddled, there is a Pride demon trailing curiously behind her, while Rage and Desire look on from a greater distance, never letting her out of their sight. They are held at bay by, on either side of her, spirits of Purpose and Wisdom.

He gives her time to answer. Most who aren't mages aren't really aware of how close demons press constantly, so he can't really fault her for her discomfort. Then, when she replies, he nods and looks past her idly, letting his mind wander a little.

"Pride. Rage. Mercy. Despair. Wisdom. Desire. Something I can't quite identify on sight that looks close to Fortitude but.. isn't quite. Compassion. And, of course, Justice. We're rather crowded right now." Anders blinks and refocuses on her. "I'll have to look up drawings for the one. I've a feeling I've seen the spirit before in books, and it was definitely a spirit, but I can't recall seeing it in my dreams or when I've been in the Fade."

This is... news. Unsettling news, which would show on Teren's face if she weren't able to control it so well. She does tilt her head slightly, perhaps trying to see them in her periphery; she's encountered pride and rage demons before, enormous nasty things that are... generally noticeable when nearby. "Perhaps it's the spirit of Having Done With All This," she remarks, trying for levity.

He gives her a tiny smile, barely more than a quirk of the corner of his mouth. He can let her have that. "Perhaps it is. Maker knows I'm on board with that. The fever can go away, the whole lot of spirits and demons can as well, especially when I'm not sure which ones are hanging around for you and which are for me. I may be immune to demons, but that doesn't mean I like them lingering."

Though this does mean he's wondering if they're always that close, and it's simply that they're more visible right now. There's so much they don't know about the denizens of the Fade.

"I wish there wasn't illness associated with this. If I wasn't running a fever, it would be fascinating to study what's going on, and I'm the sole mage who can safely do it." He can't be doubly possessed, after all.

"I reckon it would." Teren is still unsettled by the idea of it all, but Anders seems calm enough, and she's taking his cues from him. He's the one who knows what he's dealing with, after all.

"No reason you can't start taking notes, assuming you can still hold a pen." She purses her lips at him. "Not that you shouldn't be resting, but I suppose if you're going to be a fool you might as well be productive about it."

"I'm a man. Tell me when we're not foolish." His eyes might be more bright with fever than amusement, but at least there's a little of the latter there. "But most of my notetaking is on the fever itself. We still don't have cause or cure narrowed down."

And they really are getting more and more tired.

"If nothing else, we need to find a better way to alleviate the symptoms. A body can't stand to be this hot for too long; things cease to function properly and dehydration is highly complicated to avoid when someone's sweating out everything we give to them."

"When you're sleeping," Teren retorts, not likely to give up until Anders at least concedes that this is what he should be doing.

"Experiment on yourself, then. Tell me what you think would help, and we'll see if you feel better after." She's not leaving until he's in bed.

She gets a level look at her comment.

"Teren." Anders respects her. She carries herself with a great deal of authority, and he knows that what she's saying, she's saying because she cares. Preparing to argue, Anders finally shakes his head instead and exhales.

"There's a blend I've made, but it has deep mushroom. It could help Wardens, potentially, but if it does there's still more work to do as we can't go around giving blighted potions to the general populace. I'd have to find a substitute. Of course, it could also simply knock me out. With what else I've got in it that's the worst that could happen, but I suppose for you that would be a perk, wouldn't it."

He's fine.

In fact: "I'm fine," he announces, which might have been slightly less suspicious if anyone had asked. Instead he presents the fact to Teren unsolicited, like a soldier giving a report. Or like a dog presenting something it dug up and is proud of. Maybe more like that. And as proof, he doesn't dart his eyes toward the glimmer of green and movement at the edge of his vision before it vanishes, closing off under the weight of even his minimal peripheral attention.

Really, he is fine. Mild fever, mild weirdness. He's flushed because he flushes easily. His head hasn't swum in hours.

"We need more firewood," he says, continuing his unsolicited status reports, "so I'm going to go do that. If you want to take a walk."

Of course he is. Teren is easily swayed by such assertions, as any sensible person knows.
Or... perhaps not.
With a quickness as though she might strike him, Teren's hand moves to his forehead to feel the telltale heat of fever. She shakes her head. "No you aren't," she informs him, and clutches one of his arms in her talon-like grip, beginning to tug him toward his tent. "You're going to bed. And I will get the firewood."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OPEN: Cloudreach Event

no subject

Healing Tents

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

Camp Shady Fucker

no subject