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

[fleurdesel]

"-And I am a healer that might tend to your girl, if you allow it." As though she hadn't finished speaking at all she added that along with the rest, kneeling down to extend a hand to the girl. The mother looks from her to the Knight-Commander and back again, obviously weighing her options. For a moment Adelaide is certain she'll tell the girl to walk along as she is without any treatment before she gives a hesitant nod.

The girl shuffles over and Adelaide reaches for her shoulder, hand and eyes picking up the glow of Compassion's power.

[equanimiti]

A hint of awe lingers within the Templar's grey gaze as he watches Leblanc tend to the child's wounds. There's something truly captivating about watching the enchantress work her magic on the girl. The ethereal glow of her eyes is somewhat startling but oddly comforting much like the strange glow around her hands. Alayre cannot help but watch. It's fascinating to watch such magic restore this poor child's health.

"Simply wondorous." Alayre mutters under his breath with a slight smile upon his face. Leblanc is definitely one of the Inquisition's most skilled healers by far and he acknowledges that.

[fleurdesel]

Rough as the gash seems Adelaide and Compassion do not sense any sign of illness or infection in the wound- the poultice and bandage the girl's mother applied had done their work well. Offering a soothing pulse after the wound has been closed is probably not needed- but the girl is weary and afraid; they all are. Undead wandering about, plague taking the surrounding households. She cannot fix that, but something to ease the distress? That she can offer. The glow fades and she tucks the girl's chemise back over the wound, patting her now uninjured shoulder.

"All is well. We should hurry back to the main camp while we've light left, yes?" The compliment- well. She is never certain how to take them from templars. Normally there's a qualifier 'wonderful, but dangerous', 'powerful, but risky'. She waits for the same rejoinder even as she stands.

[equanimiti]

As a Templar, Alayre fears magic and rightfully so. He's suppose to fear it, to hate it. His entire creed to the Order calls for him to fear the unknowns of magic. However, as a person, Alayre doesn't quite fear magic as much as he respects. Magic exists within all living things and magic itself is Life. That's something he's come to learn over the years.

"Aye, we best make haste." The Commander says as he slips his helmet back on. Escorting this family back to the camp will be harrowing even if the rainfall has receeded. The roads here are wet and murky and there's bound to be something foul lurking in the swamps. This is why Alayre takes the lead.

"We'll have to trudge through the swamps briefly but we can make it."

[fleurdesel]

"Unfortunately what few wooden walkways that are above the water aren't exactly trustworthy. We'll have to risk the bog- but he saw me safely here. I am certain he will see us safely back to camp." A vote of confidence is required, traveling with frightened, twitchy farmers and their families is difficult enough without a bog full of the undead waiting to swallow them whole. With some manner of reassurance offered with all the conviction she can put in her voice- for they had arrived safely, Adelaide slips up to her feet and motions for them to follow behind. Alayre would take point, and she would offer support a few steps back.

Anything that would try to come up behind they'd see long before it grasped any ankles.