[closed]

[slipshot]

WHO: Gavin, Zevran and Bruce
WHAT: Zevran, Bruce and Gavin take a supply run back to the mire.
WHEN: Nowish
WHERE: On the road to the Fallow Mire
NOTES: Ridiculousness? probably ridiculousness.

Supply runs were never the most fun. The baggage train inevitably meant that the pace was not even a third of what Gavin would keep on his own, even though they were mounted, and they had to spend a good deal of their time making sure the animals carrying the supplies didn't somehow wander off. Usually it bored Gavin to absolute tears until he just sort of started making up reasons to go scouting ahead.

This time, though, there were only the three of them - so he really couldn't afford to take his eye off the bags - and the other two happened to be friends, so it wasn't nearly as bad a journey as it could have been otherwise. That didn't stop Gavin from being as restless as all hell, from being unable to sit in his saddle or to keep him from singing (badly) to himself to just past the time, but it helped.

It would take two days, to march down there, leaving just after dawn on the first day, camping just after nightfall, and leaving at dawn again. That would see them getting in to the camp in the Fallow Mire just a few hours after dusk.

When they camped for the night, Gavin was all too happily to be doing anything other than riding a damned horse, so set up the tent all too happily and then dragged a bunch of dry wood back for the fire.

"We should probably take some of this wood with us - there's so little dry stuff in the Mire."

Comments

[ombranera]

"...whereabouts was this village? I have heard of a similar creature but- it was not destroying houses. It was fighting something much like itself." Though not near so green. "Protecting the people from it's foe- something of a similar size but vicious temperament."

[amygdalae]

His entire world stopped in the moment Gavin began to speak, every other word feeling like a nail in the proverbial coffin. With this and what he had said earlier Bruce could remember the village where Gavin was referring to. The Templars had chased him down again, nearly cornering him - and Bruce had transformed against his will once more, the thing in him eager for their blood and its own freedom.

He couldn't sleep for more than three hours a month after that.

The panic rose in his gut but Bruce tried his best to squash it, biting down on his bottom lip as he closed his eyes and drew on the methods of breathing he had learned and now put into practiced. In and out. Deep breaths. He could do this. Just not... think of anything else. Not what the elves were talking about, not him, not anything.

YOU SAW NOTHING

[slipshot]

"Up near the storm coast, a few days east of Orzammar. I can't remember it's name, now - it was barely more than a dozen houses, at best, and four of those were completely demolished." He tilted his head thoughtfully.

"They certainly didn't mention a second creature."