WAR TABLE MISSION: Mushroom for Interpretation

[katabasis]

WHO: Edgard, Jone, Ellis, Richard & Isaac
WHAT: Riftwatch has been tasked with investigating strange phenomena in an Orlesian marsh currently scaring nearby residents off from their livelihoods.
WHEN: Firstfall
WHERE: Orlais, the Nahashin Marshes
NOTES: OOC Information; warnings: spooOOooky content. The plan is two have three headers with successive reveals as characters progress farther into the marsh.

It's possible that the cluster of villages which border the northern edge of the Nahashin Marshes would seem less grim and drab during some other season. But here, in the desaturated depths of autumn and populated by extraordinarily common people who have seen a great deal of their industry (and strapping local lads) sucked away in order to support Orlais' many war efforts, there is really no other apt description.

A few days spent collecting information from the locals regarding the strange happenings in the marshes will yield a number of accounts which vary in detail but are consistent in tone. Theories abound - there is a great rift at the marsh's center, someone argues (Has anyone actually seen this rift? No; not since the one in the hills to the north was closed a few years back). There is a horrible Fade-touched beast which roams in the dark. Witches of the Korcari Wilds have grown tired of eating Fereldan children and have come here to try their teeth on more delicate meat. Cateline's sister's husband's youngest brother, Fernand (who had always been such a brave, bright boy, and who might have been troubled since his brother died in the war but who would never be one to be lost or drown), had disappeared into the marsh and all that the search parties had found before they were driven back again was one of the boy's empty shoes.

And so on. While the accounts may not be crystal clear, what is abundantly evident is that without access to the marsh's resources it will be difficult for the villages to make enough of a living to support themselves through the approaching winter.

Comments

b

[muckspout]

Arguably equally as startling as the noise is Edgard rolling out of a tent immediately after it happens.

He jumps quickly to his feet, bow drawn.

"What the fuck was that?"

[poleaxed]

He's just in time to see Jone answer with a long, lupine howl into the red darkness. She looks over at him with an invigorated grin.

"Whatever we're here to kill."

[muckspout]

Edgard's grin matches Jone's and he laughs at her howl. But, quickly, his eyes flick to the trees.

He blinks at it a moment.

"There's some sort of light out there. Should I shoot it?"

[poleaxed]

She considers it with hitherto unseen seriousness; they're on a job, now, and they'd best not fuck it up. But in the end, Jone's instinct is always to push a fight forward, let it happen sooner rather than later. The most advantageous time is always now.

"Reckon you can hit it?" It's not mocking. She's never seen him shoot from this distance before, especially not at night.

[muckspout]

Edgard shrugs casually. "If I can see it, I can hit it most of the time unless the wind gets in the way."

He draws the bow, his normal slouch straightening, and focuses in on the red light. It blurs a little, but is in the same spot. He takes a deep breath, locks his arms steady, and exhales. The arrow soars across the field and hits its target.

It's hard to see, but nothing appears to have happened.