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allthisshitisweird2016-01-01 03:35 pm
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Test Drive Meme!
New Year...

...Same Old Hinterlands
Maybe the Inquisition sent you, maybe you came seeking the Inquisition. Maybe you fell out of a rift into this world last week and are still just trying to find your feet. However it happened, the first days of the new year find you in the Hinterlands. Tucked between Ferelden's massive Lake Calenhad and the icy Frostback Mountains, the Hinterlands are a hilly region covered in patchy forests and small farms trying to eke out a living between the boulders. Though somewhat remote, the area is rich with game and minerals and home to Redcliffe, a bustling town on a busy trade route.
Lately the Hinterlands have also been full of mages and templars and rifts, all threatening to turn once-peaceful countryside into a dangerous warzone. The Inquisition has set up several camps and sent personnel to try to restore order to the region, unwilling to let it slip into chaos. There's a lot to be done, some of it straightforward killing bad things, some of it weird and nebulous morale-building.
STILL WITH ADDED SNOW.
1. SHOULD OLD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT
You have turned the wrong corner in the snow, forded the wrong stream in the snow, crested the wrong hill in the snow, entered the wrong cave in the snow. Maybe you are far from camp, in the snow. Maybe you are in camp, which is also snowy. Whatever has happened, wherever you are: you are being chased through the snow by bears. Did you throw a snowball at the bears? Are they huge and snow-dusted? Babies burrowing through the snow drifts and coming for your ankles? Fade-touched in addition to snow-touched? Controlled by cold mages who are hiding in the snow? Popping up out of the snow like a game of whack-a-mole? What are they chasing you away from in all of this snow? What are they chasing you into, other than more snow? What warm things do you plan to make out of their hide if you kill them in the snow? What do you think they'll craft out of your hide if they kill you in the snow? P.S. It's still snowy.
2. WE TWO HAVE RUN ABOUT THE SLOPES
Farmers have been forced to abandon their homes after a series of vicious attacks by wolves. Packs of them are roaming the foothills and stalking paddocks and even roads seemingly without the usual wariness of humans. Inquisition agents and local volunteers guard travelers through the affected region, hunt the wolves through snowy woods, and track them back to their cavernous lair in the edge of a canyon. Only eliminating the demons that lurk there will free the wolves from their influence and allow the area to return to normal.
3. AND PICKED THE DAISIES FINE
Winter snows freeze and bury the ground, but the need for healing herbs is as great as ever. Stockpiles are thin after the chaos of the last year, and Corporal Vale is desperate enough to send people out to search caves and hollows and cliffsides and beneath overhangs for any plants still clinging to life. The weather is brutal, the search tedious, the footing often treacherous, but that last patch of Crystal Grace could be a key find. Getting it requires clambering up a slippery hillside and stretching up to a ledge and hoping whatever creature lives in that foxhole beside the plant isn't at home, but it's worth it, right?
4. WE TWO HAVE PADDLED IN THE STREAM
With many roads through the hills and ravines blocked by deep snow, some crazy, desperate few have begun traveling by river. The ice is thick and jagged along the shores but in the center the water rushes, just deep enough for a shallow draft boat lightly laden. Supplies are carried down from the passes toward Redcliffe this way, a white-knuckle process that you, for some reason, have become involved in. Maybe you were hired to help fend off the bandits that haunt the calm shallows and try to demand tolls for passage, maybe you're paying your way downstream by helping port both boat and cargo around the steep falls, the mist so thick and cold it coats whatever it touches in a thin sheen of ice. Maybe riding a glorified canoe through rocky rapids and narrow gorges just sounded like a good time. Don't rock the boat!
5. WE'LL TAKE A CUP OF KINDNESS YET
It is still snowing, and the tavern in Redcliffe is still the closest and warmest place to duck into to wait it out, and not only is it packed to the gills but it seems that the First Day celebrations have continued within long past the dawn of the second day. The Gull & Lantern is so packed with thawing visitors that it's hard to walk from one side to the other, the owner has given up on telling these Fereldans they can't bring their dogs inside, every few minutes the group in the corner breaks into a traditional First Day song that will be stuck in your head for weeks, and that lady in the corner is almost definitely someone you've tried to kill before, or vice versa. But there's a fire going, and the bartender seems to think that giving everyone half-price drinks might prevent a brawl instead of causing one, and there aren't any demons indoors, so it could be a lot worse.
6. WILDCARD
Hunt game in the snow, kill demons in the snow, dig under the snow for herbs, track bandits through the snow, deal with someone charging extortionist coat prices now that it's snowing, fall off a deceptively tall rock into the snow, get lost circling the same hill ten times trying to find a way up to the weird glowing skull on a stick you can see is up there in the snow, climb trees or abandoned towers covered in snow, rummage around in empty homes to get out of the snow, run from a dragon in the snow, cry over how cute that fennec fox you just shot in the snow was, set up camp and chat around the fire because it's snowy and cold, knock yourself out (figuratively, or even literally if that's more your speed)-- the Hinterlands are yourFrostback Mountainoyster, topped with snow.
Nathaniel Howe | Dragon Age
While fighting the wolves, you might notice a tall, broad-shouldered man standing on higher ground, holding a longbow. He is quite unhurried, plucking an arrow from the ground as a wolf runs away at top speed. He aims, adjusts, and looses. The wolf tumbles to a halt and lies there dead. The longbowman heads down to retrieve his arrow, giving a casual wave as he passes. His clothing is a modest set of gambeson and leathers, with an archer's glove and a deep hood.
5 - Tavern
His telltale blue armor long since discarded, only another Warden could immediately tell Nathaniel is a Warden, so his hood is thrown back, showing a weathered face with black hair that has silvered a bit at the temples. Less suspicious for bounty hunters. And, in case anyone recognizes his face, he has grown an inch or two of beard. The only thing he can't hide is the taint.
He doesn't push toward the fire, nor does he hang conspicuously toward the back. He's one of the rabble in the middle. The heat from all the bodies is quite enough for his Fereldan sensibilities.
The sharp-eyed will catch the glint of gold on one finger. The light-fingered may wonder what more there is.
6 - Wildcard
Tavern/Wildcard
She has her soft brown eyes set on one of those conspicuous spots in the back, seeing it empty and feeling it will at least put her out of the way and limit the amount of commentary she'll elicit. However, the only way there is a very narrow path through the center of the room as the building is packed tight. As she passes by Nathaniel, she nods politely. But before she can shufflescoot further towards the back, someone far too deep into his cups throws his arms up, clonks her rightly on the temple with his mug in his drunken flailing, and sends her grabbing at a table to avoid falling smack into Nathaniel's lap.
Ow. This is hardly remaining inconspicuous.
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"Maker, are you all right?"
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She gets no further with that apology. Celinie cannot explain it, maybe it's because he looked her in the eye, maybe the gods felt she needed to know. Her hands shoot up to hold her head as she winces in pain and lightheadedness. There is that familiar thunder booming in her ears as the Echo triggers, throwing her out of the present and into being eyes staring clearly into his past.
tw: gaslighting
You run up to her, tears threatening to join the ones you buried days ago, when they left you behind.
"I wanted to go!" you protest to your mother.
She gives a long-suffering sigh. "No, you didn't."
"I did! You didn't ask!"
"I did ask, and you said you did not want to go." Her Orlesian accent trips over the syllables. "It is not my fault if you do not remember."
Again? You did that again? Another gaping hole in your memory, another thing she remembers that you remember differently? You search your memory, horrified and humiliated, wondering where you put the thing she says you should have.
She breezes past you. Aghast, wondering if you went completely crazy, you look up to your father. The one who loves you. He said so.
Rendon Howe gives a slight snort. "Man up, boy. We can't have you crying like a peasant over paltry affairs."
Then he's gone.
When the vision clears, Celinie will see Nathaniel, squatting before her and peering into her face with deep concern. He sat her down on a bench when the fit took her, and is waiting for a response.
/wants to hug him, ok?
The Echo is never frivolous in what it chooses to lay bare, secrets of the soul prized out which are significant in some profound way. Knowing this, against the horrible thing she's witnessed tells her more than the vision alone. This generous man has been hurt, deeply. It feels almost ungenerous not to admit to having seen it at once, but she fears it would serve to wound him further.
Still, she is aghast such a thing should be done to a child of all people. As a child, she witnessed similar abuse used against the other miners, Mama and Papa included. Twisting of words to inflict pain and extend the indenture of the workers. To her child's eyes, it was bewildering to watch from the outside, incomprehensible. To have it applied to one so young is beyond reprehensible. On some level she's quite astonished, and even with knowing the evil that lurks in the hearts of man, cannot fathom why any parent would do such a thing to their own little one.
Sweet Matron, how do I tell him what I know? For she must say something. It would be unjust not to after the concern he's already shown. And she's long since learned that if she is made privy to someone's past, the gods mean for her to bring succor to them.
Her intense concern is clean writ on her face, as the spell passes and having no skill at deception in the least cannot push that away. "Thank you for your kindness, ser. Would you... stay a while and speak with me? I shan't hold you from your business long."
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"Something I can help with?"
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Ah that's a wretched start for what she means to say. It's not hard to mistake her flushed cheeks and sheepish expression to be the result of embarrassment for nearly swooning into the floor after that collision. If only it were so.
In silence, Celinie folds her hands together in her lap, looking at them intently as she gathers her courage to speak. When she does, finally muster it, she forces herself to look up and meet the man's eyes directly. Anything else would feel wrong. "Did your parents twist your words and memories often? It was not right for them to do so."
There we have it, he'll know what she's talking about. Whether it was just that once or a regular abuse, Celinie is certain he'll recognize what she's asking about.
Tavern!
He'd shed his Warden armor long ago unless he were acting as Warden - given the circumstances, he didn't exactly feel that it was appropriate to wear a giant target on his back. But like Nathaniel, the taint is obvious if you look for it - which Wardens inevitably do. This one he didn't know, and a strange Warden appearing suddenly in the tavern got Kaidan's defences up. Who was he, and what did he know about what was happening out there?
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Once he's outside, he draws a long dagger and waits by the wall. He's not going to kill on sight, but he will be sure he's the one in charge of the conversation.
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He walked over to his fellow Warden, ready to cast a barrier should he need it. "You're a long way from home, brother." It seemed as good a starting point as any.
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"Who sent you?"
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He paused. "My name is Senior Warden Kaidan Alenko." Not that the name would necessarily mean much, but it was a starting point.
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"Warden Nathaniel Howe. What are you investigating, and for whom?"
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"I report to the High Constable at Weisshaupt. I was investigating a Darkspawn Magister, Corypheus. There's... information about him you need to know."
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2.
Anders takes a step back, wondering if for once time's been on his side and made him less recognizable.
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"Anders."
It's an accusation and an exclamation, heavy with history and memory and fraught with both terrible pity and disappointment. Nathaniel drifts slowly closer, peering into a face at once familiar and strange, remembering a rambunctious young man laid over the fragile bones that stand here now.
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"Nathaniel." What really is there to say? Hi, please forget you saw me, I'm just passing through? "I don't suppose there's a chance you'd be willing to use the name Detlef for me?"
Worth a shot. It's probably not going to work. Most things don't, really. He'll take anything other than the disappointment he hears from Nate, though.
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"Maker, what happened to you?"
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"There was a great deal of mud between two hills, twelve, thirteen minutes back. I didn't see it before I stepped in. I've had a delightful squishing sensation with every step since." It doesn't answer the question he's really being asked and he knows it, but Anders has no idea how to even start approaching that. Kirkwall happened.
"You're not the cleanest person out here yourself, you know. You've twigs in your hair." Nate doesn't. But Anders wants to see if he'll scowl and check.
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"Well, whatever happened didn't damage your tongue, unfortunately."
It's good. After all this, Anders is still making jokes. Justice never made jokes. Or understand them. Justice badgered Nathaniel for attempting to steal back his family's things. Justice yammered at Anders all the time about fighting for his fellow mages. Justice was probably the one really behind that mess at Kirkwall, whether directly or by nattering incessantly at Anders those seven years. Justice did so love nattering. So as long as Anders is making jokes, Nathaniel knows Justice isn't interfering.
"Where's our friend? Still in your head?"
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"Yes." There's a beat before he looks back up. It's not a topic that he really wants to dwell on at the moment, though he knows sooner or later someone's going to push. The ones who knew Justice before are the most likely of those to do so. All Anders can do is be grateful they're out here, in the open, where no one can eavesdrop, rather than back in Skyhold.
"More or less. What brings you out here?"
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"Running for my life. Are you here to join the rebellion?"
That's a warier question. Still gauging the danger of this situation, and whether it's safe to leave Anders alone--for him or for the people of the Hinterlands.
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