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

[muckspout]

Edgard sees the wink. He only makes him more frustrated. He's not an idiot.

"will stay, thank you. Very interested in an angry woman who comes out of a creature, yes. Aren't you?"

His hands remain on his weapon, but again facing the ground.

"Happy to drink later, though."

[poleaxed]

Still bleeding, Jone grins triumphantly. "I prefer dog lord, personally. You lot, talk. Let me know if you need things ended."

Surely withstanding a wound with barely a flinch buys her some intimidation credit, here.

She goes to stand next to Edgard, elbowing him companionably.

[wythersake]

Isaac has been lingering above.

Not only for that brief flash of knife (okay, a little for it) — one thing in the trees doesn't rule out more. All of that theatre up front, and a man's back begins to itch. The trouble is that standing by yourself in the middle of a dark forest, well. The rest of you gets itchy too.

Tramped back:

"Dog lady," He taps Jone's shoulder. Does some mental math of how much blood is too much, comes up short. It's fine. "Where are her friends?"

There's some joke in there, of horse's mouths, of asses; but he comes up short there too. Isaac advances, staff in hand, eyeing the head for all the world like a child with something to poke —

"Don't tell me that I've missed the introductions. There is a fire," He adds, glancing between woman — Ellis — Richard — "If someone will help Mlle out of her anklet."

Thanks. He just really, really needs to poke that head.