THE FALLOW MIRE

[faderifting]

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.

Comments

[foxsays]

Even if it's a stinking bog where much worse than old roots grab at her ankles, it feels good to stretch her legs so, perhaps feeling a little foolhardy, she goes wandering. There's less scrutiny than in Skyhold, everyone concerned with far worse things than strangers with glowing hands so she slips off, an ear and eye out for anything that might have eluded those on watch. The dead are quieter than she thought they would be, that tell-tale slosh as they breach the surface and stagger out being the sound she's alert for.

The sea wouldn't allow this, she thinks, but then this isn't home, this isn't the sea, this is a place where death is thick in the air and the sound of a person's voice almost makes her jump.

"I don't think beauty matters, not when you have to worry about being sick or having your hunger eat you alive." Hopefully appearing near soundlessly out of the gloom won't alarm the other woman but the dead, mercifully, do not speak more than those awful moans that sound much like any other moan when she's cut them. She doesn't so much as step so much as slide, rolling her hips to keep herself upright before she comes to a halt. She crouches, careful not to let her boots touch the backs of her thighs and smiles. "Are those for the healers?"

[ancarrow]

Eirlys shakes her head, frowning a little. "That's just it. Blood lotus doesn't have any medicinal properties. It would be used in grenades. We're digging them up to wound and kill. And while that may be necessary to get rid of the demons and close the holes in the sky, I don't like it one bit. I'm here to heal, not hurt."

[foxsays]

“Forgive me, I’m new to this world and I don’t really know any of the plants at all, not more than telling trees from shrubs.” But clearly if dangerous plants grow out in the open then she’s going to have to learn because Lux likes to experience the world with his mouth and she won’t let anything happen to him. “Are there not others you could trade duties with if you’re opposed to it? I know we all pitch in though you could think of it another way - the more of this we use to kill demons, the more likely it is that fewer will be hurt in the long run. Prevention is better than cure but we’re a long way after that. The longer a thing drags on, the worse it gets usually.”

[ancarrow]

"I did think about abstaining and letting others forge them," she admits. "But then I thought to myself, it's a similar situation with those that I heal really, isn't it? As well as saving their lives, often times I'm putting a soldier back in the field. It's easy to get bogged down in all of that." She's aware that she carries far more than she ought to, but it's a long ingrained habit.

[foxsays]

"But if you're the one putting them in the field, you can be sure you've done the best that you can. I've had times, back where I come from, where I've had to patch myself up and get on with it and you worry, you always worry because what if the stitch comes loose, what if you haven't cleaned it and you start to get sick." If it wasn't so cold and her hands more clean, she'd pull up her shirt to show an ugly old scar she dealt with alone, hands shaking from pain, shock and drink to get through it, the first time she'd ever been scared for her life. "I won't tell you all the details, it's not the time or the place, but sometimes I have to do things like this, going somewhere with danger because I'm asked by someone with authority over me. Knowing that people who look after us worry helps, but we know what we're getting into."

Maybe not exactly this for her but she did ask things, she's been in too many fights and the undead at least don't have the cunning or the cruelty of the living. Besides, she's always been with someone who knows how to actually deal with things and that's given her enough time to adapt her own technique.

"Getting bogged down just means you care, but you should be careful - even a strong swimmer will start to drown if they have to tread water indefinitely," she says it with care because it sounds too harsh but some things have to be said as they are and this place breathes despair and loss, every little sound something to have you jerking out of whatever sound slumber you've found yourself in. "If you want to take a break I don't mind grabbing some of these. I don't have the hands of a healer."