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

[gatheringstorm]

Though Korrin's unfamiliar with bloodline powers, she simply nods and trusts in Sabriel's explanation. She sighs , shaking her head. "That's quite a gift...and a price. I'm not sure I would bear it as well, and no offense, but I'm just as glad not to have it."

She's never had trouble fending off spirits and demons before, but if she were more sensitive to such things, who knows? It's not anything she wants to dwell on, that's for certain.

"...not to mention the Veil in the south has been torn to shit, thanks to the Breach. Just because the latter's now fixed doesn't mean the Veil was fixed along with it. We're still finding rifts all over the place. In here, where it's already weak...it's the perfect storm."

[paperwing]

"I would not wish it upon another," Sabriel says, with a smile. "I've never thought of it as a burden, but the knowledge of it all... that is enough." She wonders how her father lasted, alone without his Warden brothers and shoulder to shoulder with merchants. Did he ever tell any of them? Was that why he turned his back entirely on the Mortalitasi? Did he shield her from the worst of it, feeling his daughter had enough of a burden to know she would one day be a Warden?

All questions she will never know the answer to, and perhaps that is best.

She sighs. "A door opened is not so easy to close." Korrin is right, of course - the Breach has ruined the stability of the Veil, and the nature of death and spirits enough already. Especially spirits and demons, tumbling through where they should not, and bringing those from other worlds along with them. "Everything has rippled out, past the Breach. I wonder if places like the mire will ever return to how they used to be."

Maybe. Maybe, a long time in the future. But anything that ravages a land leaves a mark. You need only look to a Blight for that.

[gatheringstorm]

"Have you heard of those artifacts that strengthen the Veil? Ancient elven make. I don't know how they work, exactly, just that it's what they're supposed to do. A couple of them were found in the Hinterlands. If we had them here...it'd still be a mess, but perhaps then it might help against it becoming any worse."

That's Korrin's only idea at the moment, though, short of setting the entire mire ablaze once its citizens are evacuated. But that fantasy wouldn't solve anything, other than give her an outlet for her frustration. She sighs, shaking her head. "Maybe there isn't anything we can do at the moment, to actually fix it, but at least we can save what's left."

[paperwing]

"I read of something similar, but before, there was never something like the Breach." There were always tears, but never a hole so large it swallowed the world around it and destroyed, because the waking world and the Fade could not co-exist together. "But perhaps if there are more, then what could become tears could be prevented, in the future. I wonder if the scouts have seen anything like that, here."

[gatheringstorm]

"I'll pester them all about it, if I must." Korrin can be very, very stubborn when she needs to be and it usually pays off in one way or another. Granted, it's tends not to be in a diplomatic fashion, so it can ruffle feathers among those not familiar with her blunt nature.

"If this place keeps getting to you, tell me. Alright? We can go kill things together, or see about doing those supply runs they always need, so that you're not stuck here constantly for the next several weeks."

[paperwing]

Sabriel exhales, and it does some good. The weight on her shoulders feels lighter at the thought of being able to say it was getting too much to someone, and that Korrin would go with her. "I will, Korrin. Thank you." She reaches over to lightly touch her forearm as the fire begins to die down. "I'm glad you're here with me, my friend."