Return to the Blackmarsh

[circleprodigy]

WHO: Inessa, Anders, Kain, Myr, Melys, Loghain
WHAT: Searching for the orb of the First and dealing with Veil issues.
WHEN: Mid to later October
WHERE: The Blackmarsh
NOTES: Sign-ups here.

As for content mention, violence and references to Awakening.

Comments

Like the Fallow Mire, only worse

[circleprodigy]

This mission could prove vital, she told herself. If they discovered the location of the orb used by the First, the item which brought Warden-Commander Cousland and his team into the Fade, they might have a chance at unlocking its secrets...and that of Corypheus' orb, as well. The opportunity to strike a blow at their enemy is too good to pass up...even if it means entering a place such as this.

Even at the very edge of the territory, it's not difficult to see that the Blackmarsh lives up to its name and reputation. The abandoned marshland has an oppressive, watchful air to it even as no birds or crickets or other creatures can be heard. It's utterly silent save for the light drizzling, and the dim light reveals little more than twisted trees with twisted branches framing a path leading inward. At the edge is a rickety old sign:

Beware! The Blackmarsh is haunted!

Inessa, spotting it, sighs and straightens. She gestures for Garahel to head for Myr. Until this mission is over, the mabari is not to leave his side at any time. Then she turns to Anders, her gaze sympathetic as she doesn't envy him visiting the area a second time. "You're the veteran, here. If you can recall where you last saw the orb, we'll follow your lead."

Glancing back at the others, she nods. "Let's try to stay close together, if we can. There's no telling what might have taken residence further inside."


[One thread here, please.]

[aforethought]

An abrupt elbow into Myr's ribs — you're welcome —

"We got a dog now, welcome to proper Ferelden."

We, because like fuck is she letting him out of sights here. Surrounded by ghosts, an Orlesian, Anders, and their boss (she's not looking at Loghain, can't make herself look at Loghain); he's the safest, sanest option.

It's a swamp. You go by the buddy system, that way someone can at least point to the patch of mud you up and vanished into.

[justice_is_blond]

He sighs heavily. He hates this place. ...Then again, he also hates the Kirkwall Gallows, and he hated Kinloch Hold, and he hates the Deep Roads, so it's not like going hated places is new.

"Let's try to leave markers, so we don't wind up going in circles like my group did last time." To that end, he's got a sack he's been filling with small rocks as they've traveled and he offers it out. "Everyone save Myrobalan take some, drop them on solid ground as we walk, but don't double up too much. We want to keep an eye out for ruined walls somewhere in the south-east portion of the marsh, but they may have sunk the rest of the way. We killed the demon that was holding it together."

He takes a step forward and stops again, turning to look at the whole group. "Do not, under any circumstances, pick up bones you find here. Jonas thought it was a brilliant idea, and that's the story of how we had to fight against a skeletal dragon."

ok but myr's not gonna be able to see any patch of mud melys vanishes into, rip melys

[faithlikeaseed]

Scare the lights out of the blind guy before they're even into the marsh proper, will you? Myr starts at the elbow in his ribs, knocked clean out of contemplation of the unnervingly quiet swamp around them. "Great," he says, doing a servicable job of genuine amusement, "good thing I know 'Andraste's Mabari' by heart. Have I got to do the accent too, now?"

Joking's a distraction from having to think too hard about who they're here with (or why he's conspicuously excluded from helping with the markers, or why Inessa's set Garahel on him for his own protection). "Any danger with spells here we ought to know about?" he asks of Anders, before adding in an aside to Garahel, "You heard that bit about the bones, right?"

The rift and the orb

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The path eventually leads them up a hill, where more rubble awaits...and a familiar Fade-green light in the air that signals a currently-dormant rift. However, when they step closer, the area flares to life. A scene unfolds before them, the figures hazy and the voices distorted, but recognizable. It's Warden-Commander Cousland and his group, standing before a fallen corpse...and a talking darkspawn.

When the echo of what happened fades, the rift crackles and flares to life. Green tendrils shoot forth, touching down...and demons form. At least two are large, hulking pride demons, their heavy tread causing the ground to tremble and their deep laughter sending chills up Inessa's spine. Quickly, she casts Barrier over everyone near her then sets a Misdirection Hex on the nearest one.

"Shardbearers, use the rift to stun them! Quickly!"

[aforethought]

It's been a whole five minutes since Melys poked the sign against evil out over her chest, which means she's got fingers lifted halfway to it when that awful light flickers into life, sends her bent over her palm in sudden pain.

There aren't words to put to it. There's not a whole lot of thought, save that as she untwists herself up to get an eyeful of — of fuck, what the fuck is that —

It occurs to her, distantly, that no one's ever much explained how this ought to go. A desperate look shot between Anders (don't think about it too hard), Inessa, Kain.

"Right," She croaks, and it doesn't take a mind-reader to recognize the pictures behind the swamp reflections of her eyes, instinct screaming that now would be a good time to get out of here.

[justice_is_blond]

It's horribly bizarre seeing a younger copy of himself standing there, knowing what's about to happen back then. They're about to be thrown in, and then they meet Justice. It's just an echo. There's no changing it. That doesn't stop him from wishing he could do something until there are suddenly demons dropping in and he has far more pressing concerns.

He's about to try to quip, ask something about why pride demons are the largest, say something about egos tromping around, and then he catches Melys' look and the lack of her holding up her hand. She might not have done this before, there's a chance no one's explained it.

There's also a chance they have and if he says something she'll call him an ass, but really, he can't get lower in her opinion. He might as well try.

"Hand, or wherever the shard is, like this toward the center of the rift," he says, holding his hand up and pointing it palm-first at the rift. "It'll react." Then he's turning and casting arcane prison on the other pride demon, hoping to slow it in its tracks. Two at once is a lot for any party to take on.

[in_death_sacrifice]

Of all the things, it had to be a rift. By now, Kain has come across a few of them, but it doesn't get any easier to handle their presence. Especially since he himself has a shard. It's not something he advertises. In fact, he actively hides it, taking pains to keep the hand under a thick glove. He still likes to pretend it's not there, most of the time, but in the presence of a rift, he can't ignore it.

Especially not when that familiar sharp burning ache hits him. He clenches his hand into a fist, initially wanting to leave the task to another, but... no, not when Melys is so overwhelmed. Maker damn it. He knows he has to help.

He removes the glove, revealing the glowing green in his palm. "Like this!" Kain holds his hand up, planting his feet on the ground in a defensive, steady stance. As he holds the hand up, the shard starts reacting with the rift, the green energy bursting from his hand toward the rift.

Miscellaneous exploration

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Blightwolves? Side-quests? Whatever you want.

Queen of the Blackmarsh (Kain, and anyone else)

[circleprodigy]

Inessa beckons insistently from where she's ventured further ahead, nearly back to the entrance of the marsh but heading left instead of following the path to the village. Passing rubble and fence, she ascends the steps, the hill, and...there it is. She stops to stare in awe at the enormous, draconic skeleton resting atop the hill, where Warden-Commander Cousland and his team must have fought the beast.

"The Queen of the Blackmarsh...." She murmurs to herself while striding forward, resting a small hand against the sizeable skull. Glancing back as she hears footsteps, Inessa smiles. "I couldn't get you a dragonslaying for this mission, but I thought you'd want to see this, all the same."

[aforethought]

Melys stoops beside the jaws (too heavy to bother trying to lift).

"Oi," She imitates, in a growl that might be more thunderous if it wasn't coming from, you know, her. Evidently this is what dragons sound like. "I'm the Queen of the bloody Blackmarsh, don't you go touching my crown,"

Get it. Because the crown. Of her skull. Melys' hand flaps open and shut, like she'd be puppeting the bones if she could. An appraising glance between the group. Is anyone laughing. Is anyone laughing?

No one appreciates her. A huff, as she stands and steps back. Whatever. It was hilarious.

[justice_is_blond]

Meanwhile, Anders stands back from the group and shakes his head despite the slight amusement on his face.

"I'd laugh if the bones hadn't already come back to life once," he says dryly. "Why are you touching it, Inessa? Do you know what's extremely hard to re-kill? Bones. That thing was a menace. Swords tink off it, it doesn't burn, arrows are almost useless, ice is almost useless, if we'd not had Velanna's vines with my healing Thedas would have a very different shape right now."

Amaranthine epilogue

[circleprodigy]

Did the Blackmarsh drive you to drink? This is the place to do it.

Or get souvenirs, whichever.

[circleprodigy]

At the Crown and Lion inn, Inessa sits by the fire with a glass of mulled wine in one hand, and the orb in her other. As she sips, she inspects the device; inert for now, but that they found it intact gives her hope. At the very least, their quest was a success and there is no further reason to enter that unholy place. (Please, Maker, don't let her be tempting fate by thinking that.)

Glancing up, she offers a tired smile for whoever approaches. "Come, join me. It's been quite a mission, and your feet must be as sore as mine. Give them a rest for a bit." A weary Garahel, curled up at her feet, looks up and wags his tail hopefully. He was a good boy during the mission, right?

[justice_is_blond]

"So what," he says, plopping into the chair and somehow not spilling his own mug, "do you think someone needs to do to never, ever wind up in that marsh again? Because I might be ready to do it. I'm so tired of the Blackmarsh."

But life tends to drag him to places he doesn't want to go, for some reason. Anders shoots Garahel a tired smile as he settles in.

[circleprodigy]

"Ask someone else to take one for the team next time? It's only fair." Inessa darts him a wry smile, then shakes her head. "Not that there should be a 'next time', but I share that lack of enthusiasm."

She takes a sip, then sighs. "I can't imagine it was easy, seeing yourself in a Fade-vision, among all the other pleasant features of the area. It wasn't even your project, but you put yourself on the line to assist. I appreciate it, Anders."

Closed to Myr

[circleprodigy]

At some point while everyone else is distracted with drinking or resting at the inn, Inessa heads over to whatever corner Myr has placed himself. Garahel reaches him first, resting his large head on the elf's lap and wagging his tail. There's as much warmth as weariness in his mistress' voice as she sits down on the other side of him, mindful of personal space.

"You two made a good team, today."

[faithlikeaseed]

It's a good corner. A quiet corner. A corner where no one's likely to notice him as he nurses the same slowly warming mug of ale and tries not to think very much. (What he wouldn't give for a loose stack of paper to fold, to keep his hands busy, try for something like meditation--running through Trials verse by verse without anything else to do is a poor substitute, but it's better than listening to his own anxieties--)

He starts as Garahel's head lands in his lap, raising his head sharply to fix Inessa's direction with a look both faintly resentful and disoriented. Weary neutrality replaces it once he's had a moment to collect himself. "Thank you, Warden Serra." The gratitude's mechanical, not heartfelt. "I wish only I could have done more," like not panic.

Almost by itself, his hand settles on Garahel's head. You two made a good team, well, a mabari's clearly worth a mage by himself, but Myr won't give voice to that thought.

[circleprodigy]

His demeanor and tone is noted, and Inessa shifts back a little. Perhaps she should excuse herself and leave him with Garahel for now. But she doesn't move to stand just yet, holding on for a moment. "You did what I asked of you, Serah Shivana. I cannot ask for more than that. If you wish to be left alone, I'll depart...but I am here to listen, if you prefer. The choice is yours." Garahel lets out a soft worried whine, not moving from his spot. He'll probably remain for a bit, whatever Myr decides.

Closed to Myr

[justice_is_blond]

He is, honestly, a little worried about Myrobalan and Melys. He is also aware of the fact that neither of them likely want him to be worried about them and that leaves him dithering a little when he sees Myr seated at what's got to be the warmest table in the place, over by the fire. Eventually though he buys a pitcher of cheap ale, takes two glasses, and brings it all over.

"Would you mind it if another Northerner sought so soak up warmth over here? I've brought tribute in the form of ale that's not technically awful."

[faithlikeaseed]

He's made some progress as the night wore on, gone from nursing his ale in weary silence to doodling on the tabletop with the condensation from the mug. It's an activity he doesn't raise his head from as Anders approaches and speaks; instead, he gestures mutely to the seat across from him.

Anything he'd say in this situation would be wrong for both of them and I don't mind would be a lie. He's just enough left in him to manage a simulacrum of decency without words.

[justice_is_blond]

When it comes to this mage, he'll take it. Anders plops the vessels down before plopping himself down. For a few moments he stays silent, enjoying the warmth. Then he's uselessly gesturing at Myrobalan's doodles due to lack of things to say and a general dislike for silence.

"Glyph patterns? Or something else? I used to draw cats in the margins of Circle books." Granted, the cats were great cats, and they were generally eating Templars, but details, details.

[cw for blood and animal injury] open to whomever

[mactears]

It is half past midnight when Loghain returns to the Crown and Lion inn--and he isn't alone. There's a great sack of... something... slung over his shoulders, or at the very least, that's what it looks like. Shouldering his way past the late night drinkers and gamblers--and whomever of his team happens to be awake and downstairs at this hour--Loghain heaves himself and whatever it is he's carrying up the stairs and into his room, where he gingerly lowers the sack down to the ground close to the fireplace.

It becomes immediately clear that the sack is not a sack at all, but a dense blanket. Wrapped up inside of it is a wounded dog that looks to be as much wolf as mabari; it's thick, grey scruff is matted with blood, and teeth mark lacerations are plainly clear in other places on its body. The intelligent animal seems to realize that it is no longer in danger, however, and so lays still on the rug as Loghain rummages through his saddle back in search of salves and ointments.

"There we are, my girl," comes the low, reassuring timbre of his voice. The female mabari mutt watches him cautiously, too winded and exhausted to be curious or defensive over what he's doing. At last she just closes her eyes and lets out a winded whine.

[circleprodigy]

As soon as Inessa spots what Loghain brought inside, she strides over quickly. Crouching down by the poor mabari, she casts a Heal spell as Garahel watches from a couple of paces away, letting out a sympathetic whine. If the new mabari lets him, he'll close in to provide some comfort. If not, he's smart enough to hang back but will still be watching nonetheless.

Lifting her head, the elven Warden looks up to Loghain. "Where did you find her?"

[mactears]

While the female mabari seems to tolerate the presence of the two-legged companions who now fuss over her injuries with both ointment and magics, the sight and scent of another dog has her pupils narrowing into defensive pinpricks, her wolfish hackles raising, and a low, guttural warning growl rumbling deep in her chest.

"Careful, fellow," Loghain bids Garahel with a quick glance, respecting the animal's intelligence, then grimaces at Inessa. "Some drunken lout downstairs talked about betting on a wolfdog in a dogfight across town. I showed up and found her like this." He does not elaborate regarding by what means he wrested the animal out from under the control of her previous master; like as all, his bloodied knuckles might have something to say about it.