faderift | Listen. This is the noise of myth.

[Far from Kirkwall has the Inquisition come with Morrigan as their guide on this quest of hers, all to look for signs of her mother not present thus far or in the shadow of Sundermount the Inquisition sits under. So to where it all began for Morrigan. For her involvement in this age. The Korcari Wilds.

A place with a reputation for danger as told by Morrigan herself with great trees gnarled and twisted upon themselves in ways that look unnatural, as if frozen after experiencing great pains. Their roots sink deep into the wet, black earth or into waters dark enough that it is impossible to tell if you might sink only to the ankle, the hip, the waist, or would be swallowed whole. (What dwells in those waters, do you wish to find out, how many do you think are bones in the rusted remains of their armour, lost and forgotten by all but the darkness.)

Careful to keep in sight of one another, there is a mist, there is always a mist, it is thick and it is clinging to all within the Wilds as the shroud sticks clings to the body.]

There are few maps of these lands. Those that there are, I would be...hesitant to trust. I know the way still.

[[ooc: endgame of this thread is getting to Flemeth's hut to investigate but if you want to create you own adventures under this thread or thread out the travel to the Wilds, please feel free.]]

[What wonder of the world do we have here?

Flemeth's hut. Where Morrigan grew up. Empty. Abandoned. But not reclaimed by the wilds as it perhaps should be, not ransacked by any daring marauders or Chasind passing by.

It almost appears as if these are the first since the Wardens at the time of the Fifth Blight.]

How disappointing, though if she is how I thought I might leave her, we may not notice her at first. [Not quite so easy for Morrigan to joke about all this now when she's standing here where she hasn't in over a decade, when it hurt, when her mother could be here, when Flemeth might steal her skin from her.] Be on your guard, she is more dangerous than even the legends would have you believe and wise enough to pretend not to be when she must.

[[ooc: if you want to explore Flemeth's hut, feel free, if not you're good skipping this bit or having your people sidebar with other stuff.]

[When the hut does not bear fruit (Morrigan perhaps didn't believe it would, doesn't seem entirely surprised when there's nothing of any great substance there) she has another idea because witches never come unprepared.

Not everyone might casually announce that they will seek out The Chasind as she does but given the legends and how Morrigan has spoken of what is truth and what is fabrication, how else is there to be any clue found of her mother?

Chasind trail sign hunting it is. Be wary. There are plenty of dangers lurking the Wilds. Wolves for the most without the fear of man most wolves might have. Darkspawn might even linger in a pocket or two from the Fifth Blight, lost in the swamps or soldiers turned and not yet finished off. There may even be a demon or two.

Or simply the monotony of travel as the cold and damp sinks into you, as you wonder was that a branch or was it a snake you saw, one of the silent creepers, the length of an arm and black as night. Aren't they poisonous.

(Why does it feel as if you're being watched?)

(You are. This is not the civilised lands, you are trespassing, you are drawing closer to a place not yours.)]

[Few can say they have truly met the Chasind.

Fewer stil can say they have come to one of their homes and been welcomed in but there is a daughter of Flemeth, daughter to the Mother of Vengeance, or perhaps it is that the sky has split itself open so that is why those who know the oldest ways realise that there are times when things must be shared.

Be on your best behaviour, do you recall the time Morrigan regaled you with stories? Perhaps don't share any terrible rumour that might have been told of the Chasind or that you read but hold them in your heart to help weigh up the consequences of something that might offend the hosts when this is their home and their lands that they know far better.]

The Mother of Vengeance has taken flight, you search in the wrong place.

[The voice comes from a shaman, disembodied and echoing slightly, out from under the skull they wear (the robes make it difficult to tell if man or woman, the voice impossible) of a stag, old vines curling round the antlers. The smell of deathroot rolls off them even over the wildwine they've been given as guests.]

Come, sit, listen all.

This land has an aura about it that isn't familiar to Ellana at all. She may have cast off the clan life, but she's still a child of the forest and that often means she finds comfort in the woods. Not so here. The trees seem to press all around them, looming and staring down, as if judging if they're worthy to walk through. It's a tense situation, but Ellana treads carefully in her boots that fell from a rift, muffling her footsteps slightly more than regular boots would. Her ears are taking in every little noise, because darkspawn can't be wholly silent and she's fought enough to last a lifetime already. (She's fought darkspawn once. That's enough.)

She's leaving the search for trail markers to Morrigan because Ellana knows she's likely to walk right past them. After a long time listening and not talking, she catches a sound, then movement out of the corner of her eye and lifts up her staff at the ready. It's black and long, slithering closer. Ellana slams her staff blade into the dirt and the vibration sends the dark mass retreating. It's easy to assume it's a snake, but she doesn't assume here.

"Careful; something on the left. It went back into the brush."

This is the creepiest surface outing Kit has ever been on, and that includes a foray into a forest where the trees tried to eat him.

"I saw it," he replies to Ellana quietly, already reaching for his axes. His eyes search the dark shadows created by the trees, but every time he thinks he's spotted it, it retreats further away. Ancestors, what...?

Well, this wouldn't be a grand adventure if something didn't go tits-up. Warning noted.

[Dryly spoken as she's peering around the seemingly innocuous area with interest. Korrin's mind strays to what it must have been like during the Fifth Blight, with the armies at Ostagar overrun and the legendary witch as the Wardens' rescuer. Strange times.

So of course she's eager to inspect the hut even as she doesn't expect to find anything vital. It's still a chance to explore a piece of history, even as she's careful not to touch anything she shouldn't.]

No one's has been brave enough to go looting, even after her 'death'. Can't blame them, I suppose.

Edited 2017-08-01 21:37 (UTC)

[Leaving Kirkwall for a time seems to do Korrin some good; the further they travel, the more she's able to shed that moody antisocial aura that's been clinging to her in recent times. It's not entirely shed, but she's better able to focus and coordinate with the group. What they're doing will need her sharp, she's certain of that.

Still, there are quiet moments that don't demand her undivided attention. After camp is set up yet again, Korrin plops down by the fire she just created (literally summoning flames for the tinder, she needs to feel warm and dry as soon as possible). This is normally where she would pass around the drinks and demand a story or tell one, but the moment has her turning a tiny, rough dragon scrimshaw over and over in her hand, staring into the flames with a melancholy she's careful to shed whenever spoken to.]

Edited 2017-08-01 21:39 (UTC)

"Something on the right, too." Busy narrowing her eyes elsewhere as she reaches for the staff on her back, Korrin glances back over upon hearing the two and angles her steps closer to them. It's not wise to get split up, not in a place like this. Like Ellana, she has no idea what to search for so her plan is to follow Morrigan and watch for any signs of trouble.

...and of course they're being watched in turn. That doesn't surprise her, but all they can do is keep their guard up and see what awaits them. "...can't believe I'm saying this, but this area has me thinking the Fallow Mire wasn't all that bad." That place was a sodden mess full of undead and rifts, but she can handle undead. It's the living who have her wary.

Ellana snorts at Korrin's observation. This place is pretty creepy. To think: this is where Morrigan grew up. Anyone could see how it's shaped her.

"I figure we keep moving forward, but stay alert. Pursuit would be a bad idea here." Sure, she's curious as to what these black, shadowy things are, but she's definitely not about to let them draw her away. The Dalish have stories about children getting drawn deeper into the forest. Most cultures do, she imagines.

Kit moves into what amounts to a flanking position, so that if one of the mystery monsters decides to take a stab at them from the side, they won't be caught unawares. ...He might end up demon food in the process, not being especially well equipped to tangle with enemies from beyond the Veil, but hey, at least Ellana and Korrin will have a heads-up. Nice.

"Who even names a place the Fallow Mire?" he mutters under his breath, but moves to keep up with the other two, trailing after Morrigan as she forges ahead.

Kit is careful not to let on just how the fire that blooms into existence on the bits of tinder spooks him, lest he inadvertently insult the woman casting the spell. Once the fire crackles and burns evenly across the logs that feed it, he comes over to seat himself on a stretch of canvas he drops down near(ish)by.

He notes the little dragon scrimshaw in her hands but doesn't comment on it, at least not yet. Instead he fishes out some paper and smoking herbs and rolls himself a cigarette, then leans as close to the fire as he dares to light it.

"Quite the trip so far, huh?"

Catching the muttering, Korrin smirks faintly.

"I know, right?" The was no saving that mess, nothing to be done but cleanup and learn from it. But she returns her focus to the here and now, before her fond reminiscing lands them in danger.

The green aura emanating from her staff is probably a beacon to whatever's around, but it also provides them with some light. She's fairly itching for action instead of just being observed, but their trek has a specific purpose and so she'll wait until her magic is needed before unleashing it.

The sudden voice snaps her out of her thoughts and Korrin straightens abruptly. She doesn't move away, though, the scent of cigarette smoke not bothering her in the least. Her lips curve in a small smile and she nods, rubbing at the back of her neck with her free hand.

"Yeah, but it's good to be out of Kirkwall for a while. Staying too long in one place gets me stir-crazy. On the road, on a job, everything's much easier to handle.

Think we'll actually find the legendary Flemeth?" Yeah, she was said to have been killed, but so what? Who knows what sort of strange powers the witch had that kept her alive or even brought her back? Morrigan must have reasons to think as she does, so Korrin will go with it.

It's the same with Ellana. She'd like to make a joke, but it's for the best if she stays focused here. The sooner they find these trail markers, the better. Her ears pick up a sound to her left again and she points her staff in that direction, waiting. When nothing comes, she sighs and keeps moving, though she's on high alert for something to leap out. She's sure it's waiting for her to drop her guard.

"It's back. Whatever it is."

Kit unsheathes both his axes in a smooth, fluid motion, and adopts a ready stance. "What is this thing, shy?" he grouses.

"No idea," Kit says. A pause. Then, "We, uh, don't get that many stories about Flemeth down in the Deep Roads. I've heard tell of a few of them since I've been on the surface. She's some apostate mage?"

An incredibly powerful, he assumes, given her history with Morrigan. Given what little he knows of the Inquisition's mysterious arcane advisor, he can only speculate what sort of person Flemeth must be to put her so on edge.

[ he is ever respectful, fully aware of his nature as a guest, and honor-bound to treat these men with their due. so, as guided, he sits, fingers curled around the cup, the scent in his nose and like to stick to thranduil's hair and the cotton of his shirt.

morrigan's position might protect him for moments should he make a gaff; but he is appreciative of this place, of the wildness of it, of the bog and peat and the twists of low trees. it reminds him of mirkwood, when the spiders are beaten back, and mirkwood will always be a part of him.

the stag, though, that has him truly fond. he is a very good listener, gazing at the shaman. ]

"That or it likes fucking with us. Come out, already." Korrin's voice isn't loud and challenging, though, just low and tense. She's ready to cast a Barrier spell for her companions at any moment, just waiting for it to come after them in the open.

"If you want a better-told, more accurate version, you'll want to talk to Morrigan. What I know is that she's a shapeshifter, the Witch of the Wilds, and supposedly been around since the Towers Age.

Since then, she has a habit of inserting herself into history in times of change or crisis, like when saved the Hero of Ferelden's ass at Ostagar, along with Alistair. And there was that she saved Champion of Kirkwall when her family was fleeing the darkspawn horde near Lothering. Varric's book Tale of the Champion covers that part. So, it's pretty odd that she hasn't surfaced at all in light of the Breach and everything that's happened after. She's around to help Maric Theirin take the Fereldan throne, but not shown herself when some magister asshole punches a hole in the Veil? I don't know if that's a good or bad thing, to be honest."

Kit glances skyward towards the mended breach; the sight of it would be enough to unsettle anyone, but especially a dwarf. "Is she some sort of abomination?" he wonders, doing what he can to keep his voice quiet.

"Supposedly. I don't know how true that is, or if it's just another thing tacked on to the long list of incredible shit attributed to her. Whatever the truth is, she knows magic far beyond the typical mage. Maybe it's the spirit of whatever in her, or maybe she already knew it before. I have no clue, and it's not like she'd have any reason to tell us."

Korrin shrugs, naturally curious but she's not willing to torture herself for questions that are unlikely to ever receive answers. She takes a sip from her flask, then offers it. "It's just ale, nothing special."

Ellana stares out into the gloom of the swamp and brush, feeling her heart pound against her rib cage. These things are so much easier when you already know what you're dealing with because weaknesses can be exploited.

"You think it speaks Common?" she asks under her breath. Whether she means for Korrin to hear it or is just making a comment isn't clear, but whatever is out there isn't inclined to listen. One might say that the sharp command plus three armed people staring in its direction might be giving the thing stage fright.

He starts to lower his axes some to his sides, squinting into the woods. ...uh. "Maybe it's changed its mind."

From Korrin's tone he gets the impression that, maybe, this is a subject better left alone, and so he's glad to follow her lead.

He's also glad to accept the flask of ale, flashing her a quick grin as he does so. He takes a quick gulp from it, then caps it and hands it back. "Little luxuries like that become special once you're out on the road for a while, don't you think?" he asks, then settles back onto his stretch of canvas. He props his booted feet up a bit closer to the fire to warm them up. He discreetly glances at her horns, but figures outright asking is just rude.

Listen. This is the noise of myth.

the wilds;

flemeth's hut;

chasind trail signs;

the chasind;

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