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

[heorte]

A soft hum of acknowledgement. The admission settles a few things about her, gives some context to what he's seen of her thus far. They are hardly so different, though Ellis isn't going to volunteer anything of that information to her.

"And you made a career out of it," Ellis say, instead of dwelling on blood and it's uses. "Fortunate for us, so far."

Accompanied by a slight smile. She's here now. Who knows if she plans on staying for more than a few more weeks if it suits her better to go?

[poleaxed]

"Yeah, professional killers come in handy in a war." She lets out a long sigh, that would perhaps be poignant, ruminating on the costly formula that is prolonged war, except the air comes through her lips with a pbthbhhht sound.

"The pay's shite, though. You been 'round, you know it."

[heorte]

"I'm a Warden," Ellis says, as if to rebut the whole of it. He wouldn't know what the pay is like. (Maybe some of his fellows do, but that's neither here nor there at this point.)

"Knew some like you describe some years ago, but that was before the war. I expect what they were being hired for was fairly different."

[poleaxed]

She lets out an impressed whistle. Fuck what everybody else thinks, all of Jone's experiences have taught her to respect the fuck out of Wardens. "Didn't realize. Helluva life."

Some part of her occasionally wants to be a Warden for the honor and glory of it (as she perceives it-- she knows no one would pay her such dues) until she remembers how absolutely terrifying she finds darkspawn. A dragon, she'll take any day.

"What, mercs? You're not gonna hurt my pride; I haven't any. Not posh enough."

[heorte]

Most people in their right minds would choose dragon over darkspawn. The odds of survival are better overall.

"They were good fighters," Ellis says. Standing in a swamp filled with bones, it is odd to think of that little a group. He's come very far from them. "They would have made good soldiers, or good Wardens, if that was what they wanted."

The impressed whistle pricks at his skin, some self-conscious urge to turn the admiration attached to it away.

"But they wanted to be able to choose their battles. There's nothing disreputable about that," Ellis continues, a shrug of the shoulders following after. "I can't imagine it's easy for you to have had to come here."

Skirting acknowledgement of the shard, the necessity it instills in her.

[poleaxed]

Genuinely curious, entirely for her own vanity, she can't help but ask-- "what makes a good Warden? Good fighting? I fancied joining up, when I was... much, much younger."

The emphasis underlines a point: she wants such a thing no longer. But she's still curious.

[heorte]

"Depends on the kind of Warden you'd like to be," Ellis tells her. That this coincides with shaking some wet and muck from the end of his mace is not an accident. "Fighters, recruiters, researchers, mages. There's plenty of places to fit, depending on what you can do."

A little unnecessary to tell her, and his smile says so. They've grown familiar enough in the last days that Ellis knows where she would gravitate. It's the same trajectory he took.

"But the only thing that really matters is commitment, and loyalty. It's not the type of life you can do by half."

Ha.