faderift | Return to the Blackmarsh

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.]

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!"

Edited 2017-10-14 04:17 (UTC)

Blightwolves? Side-quests? Whatever you want.

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."

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

Or get souvenirs, whichever.

Edited 2017-10-24 03:11 (UTC)

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.

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.

Edited (sorry for double edit redundant words) 2017-10-08 20:15 (UTC)

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."

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."

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?"

One of those questions seems urgent. It's not the one about the accent.

"The veil is on the thin side, so most spells will be fine. But as this was a place of power, let's not go too big with firestorms and the like unless the need is dire. We don't want to risk attracting anything that may have set up after the fall of dragon and pride demon alike."

He's glad they don't have any blood mages along, because otherwise the answer would be both different and would have to be given very, very carefully.

Garahel barks up at Myr, his wagging tail wapping against the elf's leg. He'll pay attention, and behave himself...more or less. This is a new area with new things to sniff at, he has to investigate a little.

"Save 'Andraste's Mabari' for Amaranthine, when we're in a warm tavern away from this place. I'd rather not attract more attention than we're likely to draw, as it is." Inessa takes a handful of the small rocks, then orients herself toward the southeast. "I think we can refrain from pocketing bones, this time. Let's not forget our purpose; we came for the orb, not a dragonslaying." That glance is directed at Kain, knowing his love of those but they have a very specific reason for being here and she wants to see it through.

Kain does, in fact, get curious when Anders brings up the skeletal dragon. He has so many questions. But at Inessa's expression, he knows he has to keep his excitement in check. Skeletal dragons can wait. Their purpose here is already set, and he plans to stick with it.

As he grabs a bunch of rocks, he shakes his head. "I hadn't planned on any dragon hunting on the side," but then he hadn't been aware of them being a thing out here. Undead dragons... what could reanimate such a creature? Though he supposes it's similar to whatever allows skeletons and other undead to walk about. "Besides, it sounds like it's been vanquished already... and if this place is as haunted as they say, we'll have plenty of other deathly enemies to face."

Ok, maybe he sounds rather fascinated there by the prospect of what they might face.

Kain at least does give a quiet little smirk to Melys' remarks.

"What a worthy challenge that must have been, though." He's thoroughly intrigued as he wanders over toward the bones. He pauses a moment, then, almost reverently, he reaches to place his hands upon the skull of the dragon. He can't seem to keep his hands off it, either, as he moves along the dragon's length, appreciatively looking it over. He glances over at Inessa, unable to repress the smile crossing his face. "I'm impressed. Just imagine seeing this creature fly..."

Kain doesn't have to imagine it. Inessa smirks at Melys' comments and turns to answer Anders...and then freezes as she hears the flap of wings from above. One moment, the spectral dragon is just there, dramatically spiralling downward and landing with a thud that makes the ground shake. Opening its maw, it unleashes an ear-splitting roar...and Inessa yanks her hand away from the skull to cast Barrier over herself and others. The creature, so present and real, fades away into the dark.

Inessa draws in a shaky breath, her eyes wide. "I knew the Veil was thin here, but this...!" She reaches over to tug Kain's hang away from the skull. They didn't bring it back, not really, but just maybe they shouldn't mess with it.

Edited 2017-10-09 04:03 (UTC)

Kain also freezes in place the moment that dragon appears, gasping in shock. His eyes widen at the sound of the roar, at the dramatic sight of its spectral form soaring down from overhead. He doesn't resist Inessa's tugging for now, only because his mind is so utterly focused on the appearance of that dragon. It's so stunning, so real that he sinks instinctively to his knees. He stays like that, as if absorbed in worship, staring up at the spot where the dragon had faded from.

He has no words, for the time being.

The air is foul, the earth incapable of growing anything that doesn't seem to have a touch of rot to it at all times, but it is Fereldan soil and for this reason alone, Loghain cannot find too much fault in it. How many opportunities has he had to return to his homeland in the intervening years since his ill-conceived tenure as regent to his daughter's throne? It seems another lifetime ago, mistakes belonging to another man.

And so he walks at a slight distance from the rest of the group, an ear turned to Anders' instructions which he dutifully follows, trusting to his familiarity with and recollection of this area. He sees no cursed dragon bones yet, nor any indication of the fallen, crumbling walls which might serve as the resting place for the orb; still, he moves in a decidedly south-eastward direction, and keeps his other observations to himself. (For now.)

Smirks. Sure. Where's the applause? The gold coins? The dancing girls? The --

Aw, fuck.

There's barely time to register their impending death before it abruptly doesn't impend. That's something of a blessing, leaves her without a good chance to cower. Leaves plenty more time though for wondering what in the void exactly that was, other than nothing good.

"Well," Shakily, strained. She's trying very hard right now not to look like exactly what she looks like: Someone who's seen a ghost. "Reckon it does that every time?"

Maker. Just like home.

There's a healing mist cast the second Anders hears the flap of wings, flashing back hard to over a decade ago when they fought this thing... and then the illusion is gone. Anders turns on Kain, expression furious.

"You. Endangered. Everyone. You were told the veil was thin. You were told not to touch bones. But you had to go and feel it up because... why? You want to fantasize about fighting more dragons? This is a place of power, Kain Ventfort. It draws things, demons and beasts alike, and the next time it's more than likely not going to be an echo."

Worthy challenge his ass. It had been a nightmare, one that he's glad they'd all survived because there had been times in there he hadn't been sure they would have. He takes a slow breath before looking at Melys. She doesn't deserve his anger. At the moment.

"Probably, if someone's lacking enough self-control to grope at it everywhere. The Fade doesn't forget."

It takes a moment to focus on more than the thudding of her own heart, after beint startled like that. Inessa's gaze flits around warily, though her renewed vigilance grants her sight of nothing more than the dragon's skeleton along the area. She almost reaches to Garahel for comfort, then remembers he's with Myr.

"It's wise to remember what we're dealing with, to be sure. I don't think anyone will make that mistake again." Said as much for herself as for Kain. "We're only a short way into the marsh, relatively. Let's keep this in mind as we go further in, and prevent a repeat incident. Anders is right; what comes next might be more than an echo...and we don't yet know what may be guarding the orb."

"All right, all right," there's laughter--strained laughter, but laughter all the same--in Myr's voice as he drops a pat on Garahel's head for the mabari's enthusiasm. "Don't pummel me to death. --Right. All due caution and keeping my voice down, then. Lead on, Warden Serra."

Sandwiched between Melys and Garahel he's unlikely to get lost--but he's oblivious to the trail markers the others are using, and there's no saying he might not lose his escort if things become difficult. He weighs Anders' words in his mind--considers how paper-thin reality feels here--and at last sketches a crude glyph in the road with his staff. It winks dimly from the dust once it's complete, silent and barely visible in the filtered light. Unlikely to attract attention. (He hopes.)

He glances back to see the glyph being made and makes no comment. It's not so powerful as to draw something, he thinks. Instead Anders pulls his staff off his back and starts using the non-bladed end to poke the ground in front of him and check his path.

"There were a lot of destroyed buildings, old things, broken before the Fifth Blight. We need to find them, but we also need to be wary. There were blighted wolves that traveled in packs back then, and I've no doubt they still do. There shouldn't be any Childr grubs left; we killed... their source. If you see a large egg, though, say something. And then Melys and Myrobalan will want to stand back, because there's a high chance of contracting the Blight from what's in them."

It's such a cheerful thought to march forward on, really.

Inessa can't blame Kain for his fascination, but nonetheless, her silent glance to him urges caution. The Veil is thin here, probably even worse than before the Breach, and there's no telling what it's attracted. So she'll err on the side of keeping everyone together and intact, as much as possible.

Anders is doing the leading more than herself, as Inessa's never set foot in this area before...and upon doing so, really has no desire to repeat the experience ever again. Hopefully, they'll find what they came for soon enough and escape with minimal scars to show for it. She periodically renews a Barrier spell over them, while listening to Anders as they walk. It may not be a cheerful thought, but still a necessary one to hear, and she nods grimly. "Indeed, that's enough reason to keep a Barrier spell up as often as possible. Garahel, mind what he says. This is not the time or place for a Joining--"

And she stops abruptly, as a series of howls are heard from not too far away. Garahel growls, already placing himself before Myr and settling into a defensive stance. Inessa takes that cue to back up and set an array of ice mines just before the pair, as well. The wolves can try to get them, but she won't make it easy.

"Form up," Loghain suggests in a low voice that isn't truly a suggestion. He has his sword unsheathed and his shield hefted in the space of a breath, his eyes tracking the shadowed hills for signs of the beasts that hunt them. "Eyes all around--they'll try to flank us, if they can."

Contracting the Blight. Her neck stiffens, shoulders sharp at a hard angle (Fucking Inquisition —), one that doesn’t ease as spell-light flickers overhead, as cold wicks out before them.

A string of uninventive profanity tumbles unsaid in the space between her lips. She’s dealt with more than a few hungry jaws on worse odds, but the short sword in her hand seems abruptly far too little to be of any use. Her back’s to Myr’s before it quite registers whose orders she’s followed; something in her palm feels slick at that. She tightens her grip.

Wolves scare off easy enough. But sick beasts don’t scare, just hurt and hurt until there’s someone else for the hurting.

"Welcome t'Ferelden," She repeats, far lower than before. It's not for Myr's sake.

Edited (double edits forever i guess!! sorry dudes) 2017-10-12 22:40 (UTC)

Return to the Blackmarsh

Like the Fallow Mire, only worse

The rift and the orb

Miscellaneous exploration

Queen of the Blackmarsh (Kain, and anyone else)

Amaranthine epilogue

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

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