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

[amygdalae]

[He'll make it up to you later, Merrick, don't worry.

With his help Bruce manages to get back to shore without any incident, and once he's clear of the water Bruce finally drops the corpse he had been hauling with him, letting out a sigh of relief. When Merrick speaks to him, Bruce glances over and sends an apologetic look to the elf.]

Its for the plague. [He says by way of explanation.] Can't make any progress unless we have some better samples to look into.

[dalishious]

And you couldn't just get one on land? There are bodies everywhere you fucking look.

[ Sorry Bruce. Ever since he almost drowned Merrick has felt like shit inside and out, and he's extra ornery as a result. A nearby corpse is still twitching, clawing at the ground where he'd crippled it, and he steps on its skull to crush it. It's very satisfying. ]

[amygdalae]

Its easier to get samples from these bodies.

[It's okay Merrick, Bruce can take some sass. He gives another apologetic look to the elf before he crouches down and examines the body he's pulled out of the bog, expression serious now.]

...alright, I think this one should work. [He glances up to Merrick then.] Would you mind helping me bringing it back to camp?

[dalishious]

[ Oh for fuck's sake.

Merrick gives Bruce a look that could skin a small animal, sheathes his daggers and walks over to the human. ]

I can help you drag it.

[amygdalae]

[In the grand scheme of things the look Merrick gives him barely fazes Brue at all, although he continues with his apologetic expressions that shift into gratitude when the elf offers his help.]

That is very kind of you. [He replies, with a slight bow of his head.] I would appreciate it.

[dalishious]

[ Merrick grabs hold of one of the corpse's legs and starts to pull. It's quite difficult for him; Merrick is a rogue, swift and deadly, but physically strong he is not. Bruce is definitely going to be doing most of the work here.

Still, it'll be worth it in the end. Merrick hadn't shown any concern for the villagers here, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. He's all for anything that makes this place less hellish. ]

[amygdalae]

[Any sort of help given is more or less appreciated at this point, honestly. Merrick might not do much in this area, but Bruce can cover the rest, and with the knowledge that there's somebody to watch his back for now Bruce feels assured on his way back to camp.

He doesn't make any attempt on conversation on the way back, content with the silence, letting Merrick speak only when he wishes to. He'll only talk or respond if Merrick does want it, but otherwise Bruce is fine with keeping quiet.]

[dalishious]

[ Merrick does indeed stay quiet, up until they get to the camp and he can drop the corpse unceremoniously to the floor. He steps back a little, and watches Bruce once the body has been placed where it needs to be, unmistakably curious. ]

What are you going to do with it?

[amygdalae]

[It's a relief when they finally get back to camp, and with Merrick's help eventually they get the body to where it needs to be. Bruce lets out a sigh of relief and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, glancing over to the elf at his question.]

Examine it, generally. Specifically, cut it open. [There's a mild grimace on Bruce's face as he says that - not the first time he's had to do it, yes, but he never really does like it.]

[dalishious]

[ The grimace is hard to miss. Merrick is reminded of the distaste Alayre showed as well, and he sighs softly. He takes in hand the knife that's strapped to his thigh, which is short and thin, unlike the large daggers on his back, and steps forward. ]

I'll cut it open if you want.

[amygdalae]

[There's a surprised blink when Merrick offers his help again, and Bruce was going to turn it down, but--well. He supposes there's no real harm in letting Merrick do it. If anything the elf is probably much better at it than he is.

He glances down to make sure that Merrick is at wearing gloves, and then nods.] Alright, if you don't mind. I appreciate the help.