faderift | open: mabari crawl.

Entry tags:

open: mabari crawl.

WHO: Open (with a closed starter)
WHAT: A team takes dog sleds into Ferelden's snowy southern reaches to procure an antidote to poison. So: a Balto knock-off and a game-canon body heat meme.
WHEN: Haring 9:46 (pre-dream plot, so no need to take it into account)
WHERE: Southern Ferelden
NOTES: OOC post. There's a closed starter for people who signed up to talk to the herbalist, but otherwise this is open to anyone, make-your-own-adventure style.

The team's journey takes them from Winter's Breath, in the southern foothills of the Frostback Mountains, to the even-more-southern foothills, just north of where the map they've been given fades into ambiguity and a few depictions of enormous, cold-hardy beasts that may or may not truly exist. There's a smaller village there—Talon Point, named for a jagged rock formation in the surrounding mountains, under the protection of the Bann of Winter's Breath—that serves as a waypoint for traders and travelers to and from Orlais during the few months a year the mountains are traversable and the rest of the year as a conduit for trade with the Avvar and Chasind.

Other than the map, their guides are the dogs themselves. The lead dog for each sled team comes from a locally-bred line of particularly fluffy mabari. They're clever and communicative—albeit a bit less affectionate and more stubborn with these strangers than with their currently-absent masters—and used to making this journey. They know the way to Talon Point; it's a cold, snowy journey that requires making camp in the woods at least once, but otherwise, it's a straightforward trip.

The local accommodations are not much to speak of. With the inn shut up for the winter, the only place anyone can offer them to sleep is a barn. But it does provide a place to come back to, between bouts of splitting up to seek out the herbalist, who lives to the west and further up the mountains, or fanning out to the east to gather eshimeric. It's a reddish lichen that can be found growing in small quantities in the cracks and crevices of rocks, if they aren't covered in snow or if the snow is knocked away. Scraping together enough to allow for one dose and one do-over will take several days of dedicated searching.

The landscape they're searching is inhospitable, to put it lightly: deep canyons with narrow paths carved into their walls just asking for someone to nearly fall off the edge, pockets of dense woods that are difficult to traverse and easy to get lost in, expanses of barren land with no shelter from the wind at all, and frozen rivers and lakes which, of course, may not fully support the weight of someone trying to cross them. The sparse wildlife is mostly typical of the region, but now and then there's something—maybe a wolf, maybe a rabbit—that's unusually aggressive and still showing lingering signs of the blight.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ah, how quickly things change. One minute, his biggest concern was falling through the ice knowing good and well Maud is unlikely to be able to pull him out. The next minute—

He turns to see the wolf, notes the trail of dribbling ichor in the snow along with it's tracks, and makes a snap decision.

"Run," is the first thing out of his mouth, without thinking whether or not that's a wise idea on ice of dubious quality. "Get across!"

She's a few feet ahead of him. That head start is probably helpful, if he has to thunder across after her.

He may not be thinking about the wisdom of charging across that ice, but Maud is, once the initial clench of shock at the sight of the wolf lets go. She's no doubt that Ellis can handle it—a Warden, after all, and she's seen the easy way he holds a weapon, something in the grip and the heft and the shift of muscle—and no illusion that her presence is anything but a liability to him doing so. But it's not as if he'll be able to fish her out with a wolf at his back, either.

So she runs, but only right back up to that edge she'd found, and then quickly parallel, skirting the edge in search of a safe path across to the far bank. "It's too soft all through the middle!" she calls, sounding more concerned than she would have liked. What business does she have in Riftwatch if a single mangey wolf and a patch of ice get the best of her so easily? Thinking she could come on a mission, see something, do something real--

"Here!" her toe finds a firmer spot, a strip seemingly less shadowed by the dark water beneath, and she takes it, dashing across toward safety. She makes it a few strides before it gives way, cracking apart beneath her feet, and with a yelp of an unladylike curse she plunges into the water.

Ah.

The yelp and crack of breaking ice coincides with the appearance of two skinny, slinking wolves emerging from the bush behind of their bolder comrade. Ellis' main concern, keeping the scuffle well away from Maud, is slightly complicated by Maud's present situation.

"Maud!" comes instinctively, hoping for some confirmation that she's above the waterline. Surely she'll be alright for a few moments. Maud isn't a fighter, but she's clever and capable.

The first swing of the mace cracks the beast full across the face, sending it staggering. All wisdom dictates that these creatures are looking for an easy meal. Logically, all Ellis really has to do is make it clear they are not easy pickings, and hopefully that'll be enough to inspire a retreat.

Maud is clever and capable. Unfortunately, she's also wearing a big coat.

There's no immediate answer to Ellis's call, which arrives--after its journey through ice and water and over the panic-spiked heartbeat in Maud's own ears--as a blurry shout from above. But that helps, since 'above' is a concept that had briefly lost its meaning as the shock of the cold momentarily shut down brain function. But Ellis shouts, and following the sound she sees the gap she came through, a brighter grey than the rest of the ice, and she swims hard for it.

She makes it, too, her reemergence announced with a splash and a gasping breath. But getting back up onto the ice is complicated, the edge at first giving way again beneath her hold, and then layers and skirts and long jackets turning traitor as wool saturates and tangles itself around knees and elbows, drags at shoulders, billows and catches in the current. "Ellis!" she manages to call back, just before it sucks her under again.

When they'd set out this morning, searching in pairs had seemed sufficient. Split between wolves and Maud struggling to stay afloat, Ellis considers maybe they should have ensured they'd have at least one more person on hand.

Thankfully, the blow has sent the wolf staggering, it's two companions warily skittering further back. Black ichor splatters across the snow, and the injured wolf drools more as it lurches woozily around. The urge to pursue them into retreat pricks at him, but Maud—

Ellis hefts his mace, darts a look back at the blackened space in the ice before tossing caution to the wind.

"Maud!"

Cracks spider-web across the ice as Ellis darts across, circling wide around the break. He wrenches off his pack as he goes, flinging it to the far side on the off chance he ends up plunging into the water.

This time there's no reply. Beneath the water, Maud struggles to get free of the coat that by now is as good as an anchor. Every moment that passes is another weight hung on the chain, and first limbs and then thoughts begin to grow slow. Maybe he can spot her, face marble-pale as she wrestles with the constrictions, before the slow-motion scrap drifts her away from the hole, twisted and turned about.

The rushing in her ears quiets. Her arm slips free, finally. The space between heartbeats stretches. Legs shuffle, heave into a kick. Another. She reaches for where the surface should be, and fingertips touch only ice.

The wolves are prowling, whining and snarling, circling further from them. Is it wishful thinking to hope they're drifting towards the scrubby treeline? Ellis would prefer if they were gone entirely, but if he's set upon by a new, optimistic beast, he'll deal with it when it happens. Maud's drifted, and Ellis can't leave her to this any longer.

A frantic scramble, hands shoving at snow, reveals the swirling, ghostly impression of Maud beneath the ice. Ellis has a moment to regret casting his mace to the shore before he slams his fist into the ice. Once, twice, three times, blood spattering as the ice cracks and gives beneath the force of the blows. Plunging his hand into the frigid water, he is lucky to catch hold of her by the front of her jacket. The ice groans beneath his weight as he shifts, drawing her up and towards the edge of the newly broken circle of the ice with both hands.

"Here, I've got you," is the first thing he says when her head breaks the surface. "Try not to struggle just yet."

This is as far as he can pull her, for the moment, without risking the ice giving way beneath them both.

A gasp and spluttering cough are his answer, and for a moment Maud moves like she might have missed that direction, arms rising, body twisting in Ellis's grip. But another cough and a heaving breath comes instead, and then she nods, "Alright. I'm alright."

She gets an arm up enough to grip the edge of the ice, testing if the lip will hold her at least enough to keep her head out of the water and let her float here safe from the current dragging her away again. "The wolves?" she asks.

Good: Maud is lucid, hacks up water and draws breath and latches onto the edge. Nothing gives way beneath her.

Bad: The possibility of wolves.

"I think I killed the first one," Ellis tells her, which is a fair assumption based on the state of the creature. "There are two more, but that might hold them off."

And he can't leave Maud in the water much longer. It'll do her harm, and they aren't so close to Talon Point and the barn that Ellis can assume they can take further risks.

"I'm going to pull you out, onto the ice," he tells her. "Then we'll get my pack and circle around, away from them, to go back the way we came."

Search called on account of tainted wildlife and the threat of hypothermia.

None definitely dead, one only possibly dead, and two definitely alive but maybe gone is not the ideal configuration of wolves in the present circumstances. But Maud can hardly blame Ellis for prioritizing her continued ability to breathe. She nods again at this plan, and reaches up to get a grip on his sleeve just above the elbow, bare fingers a useful development for the moment.

Even soaking wet she's not weight enough to trouble him, especially as the sodden overcoat that's been dragging her down finally slips free of its tangle around a boot and sinks without her. The uncertainty of the ice still makes it awkward, and her skirts are liable to drench his pant legs before they're both safe on more solid footing again.

A distant, useless consideration: a shame to lose that coat.

But they'd had to have taken it off her anyway. Ellis doesn't give the thought anymore space in his mind as he helps Maud maneuver herself first flat across the ice and then, slowly towards the far shore.

Still, the wolves lurk watchfully near the scrubby treeline.

"Those are blighted," Ellis tells her, because she deserves to know even as miserable as she is in this moment. As he speaks, he's drawing the thick blanket from his pack to swath around her shoulders without waiting for permission. "I don't think they'll make a second run at us, but there's a chance, so you'll go ahead of me when we cross back over."

Hopefully without either of them going back through the ice. Maybe their odds are better now that disaster has so thoroughly struck.

"We need to get you back more than I need to clear the wolves out of this place."

It's always great when a plan hinges 75% on hypotheticals and luck, but.

It was a good coat, if not a good flotation device. Maud accepts the replacement blanket gratefully, getting a grip on the edges and pulling it tight around her. 'Blighted' turns her head sharply toward where the wolves were when last she saw them, the brush on the shore they'd emerged from, and then back to Ellis.

"Are you sure?" she asks, shifting on her feet and re-settling the edge of the blanket up over her head before tugging it down again and instead taking her braid--still mostly intact--in both hands and wringing water out of it onto the snow. Her jaw is set and when she shakes her head it's a tight little jerk. "Don't endanger others on my account. Neglect your duty. I've caused enough trouble as it is."

Edited 2021-01-13 23:46 (UTC)

Maud means to do him a kindness, but it catches him like a blow. Has he not been neglecting his duty for more than a year now? His hand lifts to her elbow as he shakes his head at the suggestion.

"Maud, you fell through the ice. I'm getting you back to the barn before I do anything else."

And if they came back, they can assemble a bigger group to clear out the wolves on the second sweep in search of the plant in question.

"I'd rather you keep all your fingers and toes," he tells her. "Now go on. It'll be alright."

Maud frowns, curling fingers into the blanket as she pulls it back around her head. But she nods, conceding the wisdom of his decision, even if it does make her feel like even more of a burden. Losing toes won't make her less of one.

She precedes him back across the ice, picking the path even more carefully than she had on first arrival, and now with a wary eye on the brush, too. A circuitous path is woven around the thinner patches, but eventually they reach the shore without further mishap. And for their effort are rewarded with the hike back to the barn! Not so terribly long, maybe, and at least there is the path they forged on the way here to save them from most of the slogging through shin-deep snow. But long enough, with the wind sharp-edged and the sky clouding. By the end, Maud's clothes are frozen stiff, and hair too, but she makes the whole trip in silence, keeping pace if only just.

Edited 2021-01-28 05:00 (UTC)

It is lucky they hadn't ranged further into the wilderness. Whether or not the exertion of the trek back to the barn is of help to Maud or not isn't discussed, though Ellis' hand strays often to her elbow or back, instinctively seeking to steady or provide some small comfort to her.

The barn is warm, at least. Ellis draws the heavy doors closed behind them with a solid bang before turning in the same motion to grab a horse blanket to toss to her.

"I'll stoke up the fire," he offers, because what else can he be of use for in this moment? Certainly not assisting with the frozen clothes. "Do you need me to get anything out of the hayloft for you?"

Her pack, perhaps. They've more or less taken over the tack room, which will afford her some privacy.

Ellis should have been more careful with her. That consideration is very present in his mind now that the most immediate danger is passed.

She catches the blanket, or more accurately it lands across her shoulder and she holds it there. For a moment she just stands, almost taken aback by the change in temperature and the relief of arrival. The hike has helped, in staving off any truly serious problem, but dragging sodden wool around has also sapped much of her remaining energy. But gears thaw and turn after a moment and she nods. "My pack." Easily found beside where she sleeps. "Thank you."

When he returns she is caught muttering a curse as cold-cramped fingers struggle with frozen wool laces on the side of her overdress. The horse blanket has been neatly set aside, the other draped over a chair to dry. Her face is red and wet but not with tears--her hair has begun to melt. Her whole posture is tense as a clenched fist, but a shiver wracks through her anyway, impossible to stop. "Do you have a knife?" she asks, voice tight, angry.

There are things that would help, if they were staying in an inn instead of barn. Ellis has enough time to consider it with some level of consternation as he ascends into the hay loft and returns with Maude's pack slung over one shoulder. He lets it fall to the floor by her feet rather than hand it to her directly, brought up slightly short by her struggle.

"I do," Ellis answers, though he hesitates over the idea of it for a long moment before he offers, "You could let me have a go at it. My fingers are faring better than yours."

She's lost a coat already. It seems a shame for her to lose more of her wardrobe in the wake of this disaster of an outing.

When her gaze snaps to Ellis at the question it's not affront or scandal in her face but a fierce determination, the words I can do it as sharp in the air as if she'd said it aloud and clear she very nearly did. She is fuming, too mortified by the error that got them here to register impropriety.

But that's dumb, especially with how she's shivering too hard to hold a knife steady anyway, and after a moment she gives a quick nod. Lips press flat in resignation, before a hard exhale softens it a little. She turns, and holds arms out of the way, attempting to keep still. "Please. Thank you."

Edited 2021-01-28 20:24 (UTC)

The meaning is understood. Ellis recognizes the sentiment, and lets it pass between them. Nothing he can say will make the situation easier for her. It is a hard thing, to charge someone else with your care.

But regardless, he is exceedingly gentle as he steps into her space and takes up the sodden lacing. Unbidden, he recalls the woman she'd traveled with in Ghislain but thinks better of asking if Maude would have preferred she manage the business of woolen laces frozen through instead of Ellis.

"I'm sorry," Ellis tells her quietly, after a moment's work. "I shouldn't have sent you across that way. It was a bad risk."

He's had plenty of time to consider all the ways Maude might have died because of what happened. An apology doesn't seem like enough, but it's what he has for her at the moment, as little sprinkles of ice fall between his fingers as he works the lacing free of each eye.

Her maid hasn't come along on this journey, as easy to make stay behind as it was difficult to convince her that Maud really was going in the first place. That's half the frustration of all this--finally on her own, finally without the suffocating supervision of the last few years, and look what she's made of it. She's stewing on that as Ellis works on stubborn laces, teeth sawn into lower lip and arms crossed tight against her chest with hands tucked beneath.

"You were being attacked by Blighted wolves," she replies, emphasis nearly turning blight from fact to curse, "I knew it was too soft. I should have gone further around. It was a bad decision."

"You ran when I told you to run."

In other circumstances, it would have unequivocally been the right thing to do. It might still have been, regardless of all this misery and ice. Better soaked to the bone and half-frozen than tainted. Ellis had fewer fixes for that.

"You lost your coat in the midst of all this," he continues, quieter as the last of the laces come loose, freeing the sodden over-layer. "We'll have to do something about that tomorrow."

His hand is gentle at her shoulder.

"Turn round. I'll do the other side."

Whatever reply Maud might have made (perhaps that the 'to safety' was surely implied in his command) is delayed by the faint chatter of teeth and jaw clamped tight to prevent it continuing. Her outer layer has begun to melt in earnest, water dripping from her hem to puddle around their feet before soaking into the barn's dirt floor, but the cold is still set deep in her bones and the slide of melting ice down her back doesn't help the shivering a bit. She nods, and turns, again holding arms up out of his way. "A waste of a good coat," she agrees. "Maybe one of the villagers will have an old one I can buy."

"It was so heavy," she says after a moment more, tone almost thoughtful, drifting away from the immediacy of anger, "And then it caught on something, or caught the current? I'm not sure. It was dragging me. I couldn't get free of it." She thinks, suddenly, to look down at-- "Your hand." The instinctive reach touches the back of his wrist, safely shy of bloodied knuckles. "We'll have to see to that."

"Don't fret," Ellis says, both hands gone momentarily still beneath her fingers. He looks at his hand as if just remembering what he'd done to it. "It looks worse than it is."

Whether or not he's cracked some bones is hard to discern. The cold has fended off the worst of the swelling, though as he cautiously closes his fingers into a fist a little flare of pain sparks up in answer. Maud's fingers are cool against his skin, a reminder of what they're meant to be working towards, and that his hands are no part of it.

"And it'll heal," he presses, taking up the knotted ends of lacing to begin picking them apart. "I'm not bothered."

Maud's silent for a moment, touch light but remaining, mind back beneath the ice. There hadn't really been time or thought enough to understand just what he'd done beneath the rise of incipient panic and the rush of relief overwhelming it, the shame that followed. But she can see it now--hear it, the heavy thump of his fist against the ice above her something to aim for--the splotch and smear of blood from these knuckles, the final crack and the pale hand thrust through it, the jerk of resistance pulling her back against the current, just in time.

She shivers and nods, drawing her hand away to let him get back to the task. "Still," she says, swallowing to get her voice back to a normal volume, "We should see to it once I've changed. I can do one useful thing today."

That's a sentiment he recognizes, even if Ellis finds it misplaced. But he knows what a useless thing it is to protest. Logic isn't much of a balm, so he leaves it be, eyeing the ruin of his hand as he picks the last few sodden loops of lacing free.

"Let's worry about getting you warm first," Ellis tells her. The ache in his hand has been dulled by the cold, and the prickling of returning warmth isn't enough to trouble him.

Though at this point, with the outer layering of her dress falling loose, Ellis clears his throat and takes a step back.

"Is that manageable for you now?"

open: mabari crawl.

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i thought it had been like 1 month which was bad enough but i see it's 2!! so feel free to ignore

gently inches towards putting a bow onto this