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

[el_tybs]

He was expecting her to continue yelling, maybe stomp her feet, anything to get that frustration out, but instead he's met with a complete 180. It catches him off guard, but seeing that Beleth doesn't look like she's going to storm off he releases her wrist.

Though it's said quietly there isn't anything happening to prevent him from hearing her words, which has his cheeks coloring a bit. He almost rubs the back of his head with his hand because of it, but quickly remembers about his gloves and ashes and instead awkwardly puts his hand back down at his side.

He could make a joke that Krem likes punching him more, but it wouldn't be fair to downplay the compliments Beleth is trying to give him. And all of this is hardly 'nothing'. "You're a good person as well, Beleth. Krem sees that too, and it's obvious that he likes spending time with you." Well he certainly was a lot nicer to Beleth than him most of the time anyways. "You shouldn't feel like you need to distance yourself."

[arlathvhen]

That's how Beleth's brief flares of temper usually work--they rear their head without warning, when she's finally reached that point that she just can't deal with it anymore. And then, as quickly as it appears, it's gone again, all that frustration shoved back down until she can't take it anymore. A fun cycle!

She turns around to face him, a small smile tugging at her lips. Creators, Sam really was a decent guy. She wished she could pat him, or something like that, but--This really wasn't the time or place for it. Not with the two of them kind of gross and covered in ashes and stuff. So instead, she just nodded, pulling the mask back on.

"Thank you, Sam--I'll talk to him. If you really think it'll be okay. But right now, we should probably focus on taking care of this gross stuff."

[el_tybs]

"Good." He isn't sure where that anger had gone - he doubts that is all to it - but Beleth was agreeing to talk to Krem. That was enough for him. Returning her smile, Sam too pulls his mask up before looking at the pile. They're almost done fully separating it for him to free the piles for them to ship off.

"Guess we'd better get it done before it gets too much later then huh?"

[arlathvhen]

"Yeah." She agrees, and gives a small sigh. She prefers working on this to talking about the previous subject, but...not by a whole lot. But the sooner the better, and Beleth moves to start hauling the frozen ash cubes, working in silence as she thinks on what Sam said. Krem might mind her not talking to him, but...did she? It was selfish, she supposed. Eugh.

She wills herself to think of other subjects, or maybe nothing at all, at least until they're finished. Once they've loaded up the piles, she makes a face, and turns to Sam. "Hard part's over, at least. Ready to go?"

[el_tybs]

"That was the hard part?" he asks with a laugh, pulling his gloves off and lowering his mask right after. Trying to push/pull a cart with this heavy of a load through mud and water was not easy.

"No time like the present right? Let's get it over with." Hopefully where ever Beleth figured for them to dump the ashes would be simply enough to get to, and with no corpses to worry about.