faderift | 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

"Can't imagine what we'd all be doing if we weren't here. Probably the same thing, just under some lord's employ. Personally, I like this better." Krem raises his bottle to her in a toast. It was the same with the Asharas; he imagined life without them would be a lot more dull.

Ellana raises hers too before taking another sip. It's so good of him to share with her like this. She likes this situation with the Inquisition better than staying in the clan, wondering what people were like out there.

"So do I. I've met so many people! Almost all of them nice too. I mean, there have been some questions about my people, mostly stemming from rumors, but I've been happy to set them straight. And a few like to tease a little, but I can tell the difference between that and being malicious, and there's been very little of that. Just one big incident that's in the past now."

Her approach to the questions humans ask is to educate them on the Dalish. In her opinion, there's no point in getting angry or frustrated. That just paints the elves in a poor light, and what they need is to show humans that they're not really so different after all. Maybe in how they live and their traditions, yes, but not deep down. They value family, love, happiness as much as anybody else.

"It's good that you'd try and help educate people about yours. A lot of what anyone knows is all rumors, like you said. No good for anyone to keep believing all of that." Most of what anyone heard regarding the Dalish culture was incredibly un-flattering, as well as ignorant. He'd made a point to ask the elves in his company things now and then to keep the misunderstandings to a minimum.

Krem looks down at his bottle, tapping it against his armor thoughtfully, then waves it some to get her attention. "If all of you are good examples of what the rest of the Dalish are like, then I don't see any reason for people to be so up in arms about you lot."

Ellana blushes a little at the compliment and ducks her head, smiling. "I'm glad you think so. I would love to say that we're all good examples, but the clans are so isolated that some could be completely different from our own." Even so, they are all Elvhen, and their shared stories connect them.

"The same could be said of you, you know. And Felix. You and he are both from Tevinter, but aren't the type I've been taught about. You are both kind to elves."

Krem has to think a moment on who Felix was, before remembering that he'd heard about the several Tevinter nobles showing up there in Skyhold. Alexius was an intimidating name, as were Pavus and Tilani, and he'd kept his distance from them. But he'll take Ellana's word for it that Felix is a good man.

"Daresay we've never really been given a reason not to be. You're all just people to me. People with some peculiar ideas on how much armor someone should wear, but people."

Perhaps Ellana shouldn't have assumed Krem has heard of Felix. Isn't it the same as everyone assuming all the Dalish know each other? But in her mind, it makes sense. Those in the south don't look kindly on those from Tevinter, so why wouldn't such people gravitate towards one another? Well, they wouldn't if they held animosity towards their own countrymen, but Ellana wasn't thinking like that. It's simple ignorance on her part.

"I can't speak to all that, but to say I'm a mage, and mages always wear less armor. Unless you're referring to the lack of shoes, in which case, I agree with you. I think it's impractical to run around without protecting the very things you put all your weight on, especially when surfaces are hard or cold." She extends her legs a little, sighing in contentment at the pair of boots she wears. Especially now that she's changed into dry socks.

"I love boots."

"See, you've got your priorities in order," Krem says, gesturing at Ellana then continuing, "out in the Hinterlands or up in the mountains, you just can't get away with walking around barefoot and expect to come out with all your toes the same color they were when you arrived, bodies just don't work like that unless you're...I dunno, Avvar. And even they know the importance of good, sturdy armor and boots." He nods some, then looks out toward other tents' silhouettes in the darkness. People were bedding down to rest while others got up to watch over the Inquisition's camp, signalling that it was probably about time that they all try to get a few hours' rest themselves.

Maybe when they were in better places to do so, he would explain his station in Tevinter society a little better. It had been awhile since they'd smoked together, and she probably didn't remember his explanation. Either that, or he hadn't aid it very well. Either way, it was a discussion for later.

"Gonna bed down soon," he announces, finishing off his bottle and putting it back into its case without the cap. They could probably find a use for it later.

"I'd like to meet the Avvar someday," she replies, not realizing how close they are to some now. "People say the same sort of things about them that they say about the Dalish. I'd like to see them for myself." She certainly isn't going to think of them as savages, unless they act like savages.

"All right. I'll be in soon myself. I'd just like a few more sips of this wine first."

THE FALLOW MIRE

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