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

[savethecat]

Oh ye of little faith, Korrin. Never bet against Gorse finding a positive side to something. He smiles brightly at her just the same when she complains about it.

"It's a swamp, it's supposed to be all wet and rainy. Everythin' that lives here depends on it. Think of the poor bogfishers if it was always sunny and bright out!" Because of course Gorse finds the awful, ugly things to be charming. Of course he would.

[gatheringstorm]

"Bogfishers are creepy, but I'll give you that, they need their water. If it was just constant rain, that would be bad enough, but all these undead? Every time you step into something deeper than a puddle, which is almost everywhere? Ugh."

Korrin mimics Cassandra's disgusted noise almost perfectly, though not intentionally.

[savethecat]

"The undead do dampen the mood a bit, I will give you that." he said agreeably.

Gorse is actually unaware of the pun when it comes out of his mouth. Quick Korrin change the subject before he realizes and laughs about that too.

[gatheringstorm]

Too late, Korrin's already snorting in amusement when she catches onto it. "Thanks, Gorse. Hey, didn't you say you were from southern Ferelden? Please tell me I'm not insulting your home."

Though...no, this can't be his home. He's far too cheerful to be from this festering pit, right? She could have sworn he'd mentioned a farm or something, and this area certainly isn't capable of having one.

[savethecat]

Gorse chuckles, too.

"Nah, it's a couple days walk south-east from here." he kind of nods in the general direction of it. "Once you get to higher ground it dries off quick unless you're in the rainy season."

[gatheringstorm]

"That's a relief. Maybe when we're done here, you can pop in and let them know you're alright. With family so close, it's good to take advantage of that while you have it." And letters aren't always enough, Korrin knows that well. "I'm not too proud to invite myself over either, I'm curious to see non-mercenary Vashoth. It's like finding a unicorn."

[savethecat]

"You think they could spare us both for a couple extra days?" Gorse asked Korrin. If his previous mood was far too cheerful for the situation, he was positively elated at the possibility now. Sure it had only been near two months, but that was longer than he'd ever been away from his family before and he ached with missing them.

Also, the whole point of the community was that it was nigh impossible to find and difficult to get to even if you knew your way. Letters were a non-starter.

"I know everyone would really love to meet you too."

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin doesn't have it in her to dampen Gorse's mood, anyway. Misery may love company, but she's not heartless. And, truth be told, the idea of seeing his family does perk her up a bit.

"They might? It can't hurt to ask, especially when we've done our part here. Productivity should be rewarded, after all." She shrugs, not having met anyone in charge that's truly unreasonable. Then she actually smiles. Just a little bit, as they're still in the festering bog that is the Fallow Mire, but still. "I'd like to meet them, too. Hopefully my being a mage won't bother them much. It seems to be hit-or-miss with our kind, depending."

Those who remember the Qun might be jumpier about it. Then again, her parents are Tal-Vashoth and they even had a mage friend before having her, so it can vary. She's interested in seeing where they fall.