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

"If I just had to worry about them getting wet, I'd do it right away but one fall and more of them come out and even I have to worry about where I'm putting my feet." Again, more for the undead but if someone didn't know how to keep their weight off their feet and how to get out then they could panic and go flying. The undead have blades, rusting and notched from being in the water but still enough to cut and arrows that fly past her ears.

When they're back at Skyhold she'll find something hot from the kitchens with nice fresh bread, some good wine and she'll tell her all about her pistols and the other flintlocks she keeps back at the palace, tucked against Korrin's side because of course that's the only way to do things but honestly, the thought of touching someone more than strictly necessary here is awful. Everyone smells and she keeps imagining sucking noises from her own clothes like leeches, she doesn't need any sort of proof.

"Crossbows are more for show, I always thought, they're too heavy for me to carry when I'm moving. A bow might be good so long as I can pack it so the arrows don't fall out because good balanced throwing knives are expensive and I'm not going to go fishing for them." Not here. Home where you can see into the water then absolutely she's gone fishing for something bright and glinting but she'd rather lick a toad at this point. "I've got a good arm but we don't really use grenades or bombs. They're useless in water unless you want a big splash."

"We might get ambushed above water as well, but probably not often enough, so fair point. But if we get back to camp, you can see if the scouts have a bow and arrows to spare. It can't hurt to ask, anyway."

Korrin flashes a small grin at the thought of Araceli with a crossbow. "I've seen someone smaller than you use one, though he's a dwarf and much broader than your slender self. They'd be too bulky for my taste anyway, but had magic not manifested, I think I would have made a decent archer." She's still decent enough to give a Vashoth kid some basic lessons, so her skills aren't that rusty. That gives her a small amount of pride.

The Vashoth mage glances around the dark gloom of the mire and sighs. "Fucking mire is messing with my sense of direction. It's all starting to look the same, no matter where I look. Please tell me your internal compass is better at the moment." Hers is usually excellent, an added source of irritation now.

"I suppose it's really just the draw I'd need to learn, I know how to aim, can't be too different to pistols and knives." Besides, she's a fast learner and it'd be fun to have something new to do in Skyhold even if she stands the chance of making an absolute tit out of herself at first.

How glad she is that you noticed her figure because it takes a lot of running and swimming and climbing to keep a shape like this. "Shooting is shooting, you've got the strong enough shoulders that you'd be able to handle some of the bigger weapons. Double barrels, triple barrels, quadruple barrels, one in each hand because they kick hard enough they can pop a shoulder right out of the socket. Or the blunderbuss!" Actually that's a really interesting thought there because there are beautiful guns carried by other guards and she could honestly see Korrin wielding one of them - magic would only be a boon to her for igniting spare powder in a pinch.

"That is why one always seeks the higher ground, we need to head right for a bit then take a sharp left if we want to stick to land. It's narrow, single file but it's better than wading." Not that she can see as far as she would like because of the strange glowing mist that rises and what she's sure are smoky fires either about to go out or little more than dampened embers.

"I'd be willing to help you learn what you need to know, of course. Not that there aren't better archers out there to teach, but I'd make the time." Korrin's naturally generous with her time when it comes to those she favors, though it doesn't hurt that Araceli is easy on the eyes and it would be a treat to watch her practice. As for those other weapons, she shrugs. "I think I'd have to actually see those to get an idea of whether or not I could use them. I'd probably just stick with magic anyway, but it's never a bad idea to have back-up."

Ah yes, higher ground. Korrin nods at the directions, ready to follow them though she'll keep pace with Araceli. "Then let's do it. I can take point or guard your back, whichever you prefer. If you hand can give us a little light, that'd be a boon as well." She knows it might attract attention too, but sometimes one has to choose between that and having enough light to get one's bearings. She'd rather be fighting than lost.

"Hands-on instruction, I would hope, I've always found that the lesson sticks in the mind better." She teaches that way herself and teaching shooting was always standing close to another, face pressed to a neck or chin to a shoulder and archery would have to involve an awful lot more than just positioning a single arm. "When we get back to Skyhold I can draw some for you, I'd do it here in a tent but have you touched the maps? The ink would run right off the page before I had a chance to finish the outline."

Or it'd just tear because she's been as delicate with the maps as possible, a little horrified at them not being what she expects.

Voicing Korrin's thought, she glances at her hand, flexing her fingers carefully. "I can take point for the moment, I know this sort of ground at least." Sandier, prettier, but still treacherous as she unsheathes one rapier for the moment to be ready because the dead certainly come up swinging. "I don't know much about the undead," actually she knows basically what Ned told her via the sending crystal and she honestly did picture them backstroking around lazily so it's basically fuck-all that she knows, "do you think that they're all the people that were here before? All of them?"

Grimacing in response to Araceli's question as she takes rear guard, Korrin sighs and nods. "They have to be, don't they? I've seen scraps of clothing or items that indicate that they were the area's inhabitants, as ordinary as the people you'd find in the 'village' or tavern. But the Veil is too thin here, and their bodies can get no rest, not when spirits always seek to cross. That's one practical reason why Andrastians burn their dead, by the way. No one can possess their corpses, then."

It makes sense enough to her, and as she dreads the thought of her own body being thus used, Korrin would likely make the same request. But she tries to think of less morbid things while following along, and trying not to stare at Araceli's hips the entire time. "Hands-on instruction and drawings will definitely be things for later, when we get back. Just remind me when, alright? When we first get back, I'll probably be so weary that I'll barely remember my own name, but some time to black out properly and I'll be good to go."

"Really? I need to brush up on my fashion, so much looks alike, all the drab colours," she gestures to herself and the much more sober clothing she's sporting for this trip, her good blue and silver suit back in Skyhold. "I noticed a few differences with some folk but when you don't know a place it makes it much harder to say 'ah they have jewels and hair in long dark ropes or shaved completely, they must be from Corundus'. The Veil is to do with the Fade though? Like the thing I came out of? All ripped like a sail?" Shut up that's not how she's trying to remember it correctly, not at all.

She does file that nugget about corpse possession being common enough that the religion seems to have a whole custom built about it. It makes sense though, there isn't enough in the water here to eat a body before it comes back.

Oh Korrin, a thief knows when she's being watched but the rolling gait from ships certainly keeps her momentum going here. "I think I'll need to bathe for at least an hour, shovel some food down and then curl up in front of the biggest fire I can find and even if I have to bite someone, I will not be moved, not at all. We don't need to remember names to make sure one another doesn't drown in the bath and to take an entire fresh loaf from the kitchen." Why did she think about food, ignore her stomach growling but she's going to stuff her face with bread when she gets to Skyhold again, just eat and eat until she's full to the gills.

Thanks, Araceli, now Korrin has the feel and scent of warm, fresh bread on her mind, and her own stomach gives her trouble for it. The stale stuff at the tavern shouldn't even be called the same thing, and the rations...well, the less said about them, the better. Her appetite for almost everything currently available is nonexistent and she only eats to keep herself useful, not to savor anything. A sad state of affairs.

"Bathing is I can think about whenever I'm trudging through this muck. That fantasy Zevran and I have about a Skyhold bath house really needs to come true one of these days. All I want is to soak in hot water forever, or as long as I can manage it."

So much pouting, though she'll force herself to be more stoic if they gain an audience. She prefers to keep her complaining and fantasies relatively private, to keep morale from sinking any more than it already has in this mess of a place. "The Veil's more of a magical vibration that repels the Fade, it's not an actual, physical thing. And it tends to be weaker in places that have witnessed a lot of death or magic. Spirits take an interest in such things, since it makes it easier for them to cross. It's thinnest at night, when most are dreaming and present in the Fade, even though only mages are lucid dreamers."

Good thing she brought rum in her pack and keeps her little hip flask well topped up because the watered down wine is all well and good when you're eating dinner and trying to soften hard bread but it's tasteless most of the time.

"I can scrub down in anything that's clean, I've not always had the luxury of choice but a bath. All that steam, rubbing scented oils into your muscles to ease the aches and propping yourself up so you can drift off." Not to mention having someone to trade off scrubbing your back with, all of it enough to make her heave a weary sigh. She'll have to settle for wringing out as much damp as possible and angrily brushing the worst out of her poor hair. All her curls gone to frizz and she'll need to just sit with oils and combs to get the curls back when they're in Skyhold.

"Well if any spirits are taking an interest, can you please not because there are more than enough things here already, thank you." She does feel a bit stupid talking to possibly thin air but that's more comforting than the thought of things just listening in and appearing. "Who would call a non-physical thing after something that is a physical thing? Whoever was in charge of such things needs a good slap in the face. And spirits sound like the worst sort of voyeurs, the sweaty uninvited type - they just appear? Sliding into corpses," oh no that's a really terrible way to phrase it but she'll continue so neither of them need dwell on it, "and watching you dream? I've had very real dreams, like the ones where I know that I'm doing it but I don't go anywhere." Korrin you're confusing her, please stop, she doesn't really understand this weird physical/not-physical distinction too well.

Araceli's talking to 'spirits' gets a slight twitch of the lips from Korrin, despite her general mood in the mire. "Yeah, spirits are weird. I'd say they're harmless, but some of them aren't. It's never a good idea to feel too comfortable with them, even the ones that seem to mean well. That whole Veil thing is another reason why I hate blood magic, by the way. Do enough of that and it tears the Veil and demons can slip through the cracks. Not fun. And yet, the world isn't running out of idiots who think blood magic will solve all their problems."

She huffs in disgust, then looks wistful. "If there's a chance for a bath like that after dealing with this mess, I'm taking it. And I'll take you with me, just so you can have those gorgeous curls back as you like them. Until then we have...all this. Lovely, isn't it?"

"Why would people even-- blood is bad. That's why people panic when they're bleeding, when I got shot I didn't think 'oh, that's fine, the blood will help spur me to keep moving' I could barely think straight." Oh yeah Korrin needs to see that scar, although bleeding from an injury is very different to blood magic but it feels too much like tempting fate to ask about it.

"Do your horns require special treatment? It would only be fair to offer my services if they do." And she's genuinely intrigued too because she likes to do her Vashoth watching as she goes about Skyhold and Korrin is the one she knows best. Sighing, she turns for a moment, trusting Korrin will alert her to anything, fluttering her eyelashes. "It's romantic, no? Just the sort of mood lighting a girl must wish for on those most special of nights, that...that smell of decay rolling in on the stagnant wind, like the aftermath of the fish market at high noon. Ah, how charmingly putrid."

"It's almost enough to make me swoon, though I'll manage to restrain myself, somehow. Just barely." Korrin will refrain from even the pretense of it, not here, though back at Skyhold there might be room for theatrics. "The horns...not usually, but the base of a horn can itch or be sensitive sometimes. That's what horn balm is for. I didn't bring it with me here, since the constant rain will just wash it away anyhow."

She the arches an eyebrow. "Remind me to ask about that, sometime. I always need to hear more about your adventures...though it's best done where we can relax, and not worry about undead with every step we take."

"You wound me!" Only not really because swooning here means getting far too close to the water and can you imagine leaning back to have a corpse grinning at you? No, that's not what anyone needs. "I hope the damp doesn't bother them then, it would be an inopportune time to get any sort of break in the skin."

She's been listening to the scouts and sneaking glances at reports and things about this place are just disturbing when an infection could lead to so much worse than the usual.

"I think I make my life sound grander than it is, there have been adventures yes but they pale in comparison to a world like this. It isn't to say my world is dull but thief tales are thief tales and there were few grand battles at sea when I went sailing with my father." And I'm a guard and I don't know what I can tell you, she thinks because those are some of the best stories too, the very best being the one where she joined up. It's really a lot like finding herself here actually, maybe that's why her stomach flutters so at the thought of sharing that secret.

"You don't think my life was all Breach and end of the world, do you? Before this, it was a series of jobs, some better than others. Those are the kind of tales I have, and they're not that different in scope." Korrin shrugs, not about to pretend anything different when she regrets nothing about the life she's lead until the Inquisition.

"And no, the damp doesn't bother them much, but wait until we're stationed in the desert somewhere. That's when I'll be itching and complaining and using up horn balm until it runs out all too soon."

"This seems to have consumed so much, you all feel more connected to this when it's a ragged little bunch who were dumped in the midst of it. Professional tales I can share though, I might even pass on a few trade secrets because there are always pesky locks. If in turn you'd be good enough to tell me some stories of your own." She looks back with a small fond smile, never having heard a mercenaries stories before in her life. Her own will probably make Korrin laugh because they almost make Araceli laugh sometimes.

"You must come to me then, I promised a friend to go to Zimevur with her one day and that's a desert country, all of it baked red and gold under the sun. I have clever fingers for much more than just locks and pesky doors and windows. Your morale should absolutely be considered for the good of the Inquisition though, I will help make your case to the quartermaster if needed." After all, it'd be Korrin's turn to do the bulk of the complaining and Araceli will always be a willing pair of ears.

It's not as though Korrin isn't doing plenty of complaining where they are, nor will she stop until the mire is firmly behind them. But she smiles warmly at the tiny pseudo-Antivan woman. "You're so sweet, Araceli. I'd be in your debt, you know. Hopefully you'd find good use for that." If anyone could, it'd be her. And she can't help the suggestive tone, needing something to look forward to.

"But of course I'll share my collection of tales, preferably over something decent to drink. If we make it back to the tavern early enough, remind me to tell you the one about the rabbit, the donkey and the caravan. It's...unique." And pretty scandalous, at least by the Inquisition's standards.

No matter how often she's complimented - and it's never vain to acknowledge such things, only polite - she still flushes at it, just a hint of it at her cheeks. "The things you say but words are words and I am very good at making sure debts are squared away to the benefit of both parties. After all, it's good to be generous, no?" Take that any way you will and please enjoy that swing of her hips that really isn't required to help her progress through the bog as she squints at something in the gloom that looks unfortunately like a few corpses.

Such a shame and she draws both rapiers, pointing ahead without a word to signal Korrin.

"That certainly sounds like the sort of story that deserves my undivided attention, not that you don't already have it by virtue of how captivating you are but that sounds like the sort of thing where I will want to know every sordid detail."

"You will, I promise. Once we're warm and dry and with enough in us to take the edge of this Maker-forsaken hellhole." Oh, that flush and the swing of her hips are things Korrin definitely notices, though unfortunately the corpses put any admiring on hold. Frowning, she slips into a defensive stance and casts Barrier over them both.

As the corpses approach, Korrin remains where she is, trusting in the barrier to protect her for at least a short while. She won't have Araceli be alone in taking the offensive, of course. Thinking fast, the Vashoth mage casts Chain Lighting, avoiding her ally but arcing to each corpse in turn.

Unlike fighting demons, corpses at least are something she's got some basis with because they were people. Once. Dead, undead, they still fight with the usual sort of weapons and so she dances back from the water as Korrin's lightning arcs down. The air about her crackles but it does something to the corpses and that gives her the chance to rush forward, slicing along the belly of one as she goes for the throat of another, punching through quick and cleanly.

Well, not exactly clean, goop dripping out as she pulls the blade back.

"If they get close to the water I'll take them!" She's willing to try to pull them back so they don't land in it, disgusting as it promises to be.

"Do it!" Korrin nods firmly, eyes on the corpses as she trusts Araceli to do her part. For her own, she'll stay back as much as possible but still remain within range for staff and spells. If they get too close, she'll blur away with Fade Step, and thus keep them distracted from her roguish companion. Spinning with her staff, she fires at the nearest one relentlessly.

Blades free, she spins around to tug a corpse closer, not the move of a duellist but of a killer as her blade slices cleanly across the throat of a corpse, grimacing when it no longer holds itself up. She doesn't let it drop and instead touches it as little as possible as she sets it on the ground, ducking low as an arrow shoots past.

"Really missing my pistols!" Complaining about that won't help but one shot between the eyes and no more arrows to almost hitting her ear as she cuts low at wrinkled legs and up into the knee as she rises. "You've got that one yes? I'll keep others from approaching."

"I'm missing them, too, trust me!" Korrin may not be able to picture Araceli's former weapons exactly, but if they're as effective as they sounded, then they would indeed be a boon in this situation. As it is, they have to work with what's available to them. Unleashing a blast of fire at that corpse, she finishes it off before stepping away, now looking for a better vantage point from which to trigger her next spell.

Her beautiful darling pistols, please rest safely or perhaps be lifted up by a squid before being damaged too terribly. If she had the seemingly limitless pockets the way she would at the palace, then throwing knives would be worthwhile but she shudders to think of how much it'll cost to refill her stash back at Skyhold because she won't go swimming for any here.

With a grimace, she kicks one forward to get caught in the fire, a grim smile on her face when it blunders into another corpse. At least it's one of the smaller parties, not like some. Another arrow thuds past - how they can actually do that is beyond her - as she spins to parry a heavy swing, staggering back more than she'd like from the force of it.

"You alright?" Korrin doesn't dare stop and devote her full attention to Araceli when there's danger about, but she can at least give the not-Antivan a chance to recover. Blurring ahead with Fade Step, she draws their attention to her with a few blasts from her staff to lure them away, then setting an explosion underneath them.

As they burn, Korrin tosses a healing potion toward her friend. Araceli might not need it right now, but it's better that she have one close at hand, just in case. Given the state of the mire, it's bound to be needed at some point during the Inquisition's stay.

It takes a minute or two for her to respond, dancing back from the corpse and sidestepping away from another slash with a muttered curse and angry hiss. They shouldn't be this co-ordinated. They shouldn't even be doing this and the discussion of spirits doesn't help because the dead should get to remain dead, not moving with desires that aren't even theirs to attack people without any quarrel with them. Her attention is stolen momentarily when Korrin streaks past, never quite sure how someone can move faster than she can when usually that sort of speed is impossible and anything close is to do with how light on your feet you are.

"Cheers!" She has to switch rapiers into both hands and aim another kick at the knees of the corpse so she can catch it and pocket it, the dull pain of a glancing blow - boiled leather and a layer of light mail do their job - catching her before she gets out of the way. A blade through the face works and there's not blood on her but it still hurts. There are worse things than the usual irritating but rarely life-threatening infection out here after all. "I think I understand why there are so many big shielded warriors about normally."

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