TEST DRIVE MEME!

[faderifting]

Surprise, Beartch

Bet You Thought Etc.

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, early fall finds 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.

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.

I. DRAGONS

There is a dragon in the Hinterlands. Everyone knows this. It's difficult not to notice when a dragon flies overhead with a mouth full of screaming sheep (alas, the poor dead sheep) or scorches your fishing boat and makes you swim for it (alas, the poor soaked fishermen). But she's only rarely sighted, and her lair is as of yet unknown, if "yet" is defined as "the moment before this exact moment, right now." Because you've found her. She is, at this very moment, screeching so loud it rattles the cliff sides that are trapping you in her territory and raining fire down over the only clear path of escape. She and her two dozen children don't care if you only wanted some elfroot and spindleweed. They also don't care if you have a sword. You look way more delicious and less woolly than a sheep.

II. CROSSROADS

In the year since the Inquisition's formation, the Crossroads have changed. Most of the refugees from the Mage/Templar War have moved on--if not back home, to new places--and there's been some progress rebuilding the homes and fortresses ruined by the war. Very few people are still living in caves. But rather than quieting down, the Crossroads have begun to bustle. Between the Inquisition's locally stationed forces and the increasing number of travelers and merchants now that the roads are safer, there's enough business to support a tavern with a few rooms for rent, and the Crossroads are becoming a trading post in their own right rather than a dot of houses on the path to Redcliffe--a great place to stop for a drink, to buy basic weaponry, or to unload all of the bear skins you've collected.

III. BEARS

You have turned the wrong corner, forded the wrong stream, crested the wrong hill, entered the wrong cave. Maybe you are far from camp. Maybe you are in camp. Whatever has happened, wherever you are: you are being chased by bears. Did you provoke the bears? Are they huge? Babies? Fade-touched? Mage-controlled? What are they chasing you away from? What are they chasing you into? What do you plan to make out of their hide if you kill them? What do you think they'll craft out of your hide if they kill you?

IV. CRYSTALS

Members and trusted agents of the Inquisition are given access to one of the Inquisition's stores of ancient, mysterious sending crystals, allowing them to communicate instantaneously by voice. It's magic. And a magical excuse to ask everyone what their favorite constellation is in the middle of the night.

Or to call for help because you've been treed by bears.

Either way.

V. MISCELLANEOUS

Choose your own adventure! Hunt game, kill demons, gather herbs, track bandits, haggle over the price of armor, fall off a deceptively tall rock, 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, climb trees or abandoned towers, rummage around in empty homes, run from a dragon, cry over how cute that fennec fox you just shot was, set up camp and chat around the fire, knock yourself out (figuratively, or even literally if that's more your speed)-- the Hinterlands are your Frostback Mountain oyster.

Comments

[wontforgetyou]

Not knowing that dragons exist really only means one thing - that this man, whoever he is, is a rifter like himself. Almost automatically, let his eyes drop to the other man's hand, looking for the tell-tale green glow that would mark him as someone with a shard. He has it as well, but since currently his hands are covered by leather gauntlets, made from the same dragonskin as the rest of his armour, it might be a bit harder to notice.

On the other hand, they're easy enough to remove, and he starts to contemplate if it might not be a good idea to do that now to help with the explanation that's probably coming. That thought doesn't last long, though, because the moment he hears his name, his head snaps up, the narrow-eyed expression that'd been and gone back again, as though it'd never left.

"Aye, I'm Jamie. How do you know my name?"

[not_the_question]

Even within all the danger, the Doctor manages a smile. "Oh I knew you... lifetimes ago now. I was a completely different person back then. But you... You seem just the same."

Excuse him as he goes a bit nostalgic and so forgets to explain who he is. It's getting on in years, there's a lot to reminisce and sort through.

I.

[theprettyone]

Funny thing, but after that final incident with the Weeping Angels, life had become relatively normal for Rory. He hadn't expected anything strange or curious to every happen again. It was bittersweet, really — he and Amy missed the Doctor terribly, but it was nice to have a quiet life for once.

Except Rory had gone and fallen through a hole (he thinks? he's still not sure how it happened) and landed in ... wherever this is. It's been a solid week and he still doesn't really understand how it happened. Or why the people here treat him like he can be trusted to do things when he's still a deer in the headlights when anyone so much as says hello.

Which leads us to the bar. The barkeep had excused himself with a grunt and sort of ushered Rory in his place, apparently trusting him to look after things.

So far, he's been lucky. Maybe the natives realize he hasn't a clue what he's doing so they've been ignoring him for the most part.

But then there's this guy. A harsh Scotsman who doesn't look like he belongs here either, and apparently doesn't notice that Rory looks completely unqualified for the job.

"Oh. Er— I don't actually..." Rory starts, blinking in surprise, but he pauses before letting out a defeated sigh and grabbing an empty tankard. "Alright, fine. Just a warning though: I don't think they're up to any any sort of code."

The drink he slides across the bar looks and smells safe enough, but it also just came out of a big moldy barrel so he's not completely confident its expiration date hasn't long passed.

<3

[not_the_question]

The Doctor hadn't really noticed that it was Rory behind the counter. At least, not until there was a very familiar hesitation. The Doctor looks properly and sees... non other than his father-in-law. The Doctor's features spread into a brilliant grin. And in the moment he's kind of forgotten that he has a different face. "Rory."

It was more a breath of surprise rather than an exclamation of joy. Though the Doctor was clearly glad.

"Haven't seen you in ages. What are you doing here?"

[bearstheshield]

[Steve has never really been interested in ladies' embroidery before but the subject being what it is, he cannot help but be a little intrigued. He smiles a little, a genuine one.]

That is a lovely rendition of Andraste, my lady.

[bearstheshield]

"I have heard the same," Steve says, nodding along with her assessment of it. His brothers among the Templars had tried to warn him away but he'd wanted to make his own judgment, had wanted to see for himself. Helping others was more important than political lines, in some instances, and he was willing to investigate for himself.

"I want to honor the Maker and help as best I can. I want to see what the Inquisition can do with my own two eyes before I make any decisions."

kaidan alenko / mass effect (rifter)

[reconsidered]

iv. crystals (treed by decidedly-not-bears-but-still-bad-things-to-be-treed-by)

So this is, ah, pretty embarrassing, actually. I ran into some wolves and things didn't exactly go as planned.

I'm… sort of in a tree. [ muffled snarling punctuates his sentence. ] I don't think they're normal wolves. They seem to be resistant to my biotics, which doesn't usually happen.

[ ok sure he could've used his fancy new sword on them





...if he hadn't dropped it. ]

I'm near the base of a mountain in the Hinterlands just southeast of a small cabin. If anyone can lend a hand, I'll definitely owe you one. Thanks in advance.

v. misc. (a disappointing map side quest)

[ as it turns out, for all the things space exploration is good for, it's not really the ideal setting for learning how to read ancient, crusty, old maps. kaidan turns the map (which he'd lifted off a conveniently placed skeleton) this way and that, frowning as he studies it. ]

Okay, [ he says at last, though he doesn't really sound like he's figured it out. in fact, he actually sounds a little embarrassed. ] This might sound weird but I think we're looking for a rock shaped like a...uh. Well. See for yourself.

[ he holds out the map, revealing a drawing of a rock (or mountain, maybe) that's totally shaped like a dick. with a big red "x" marked right at the base.

is this really a map? could it be a joke? kaidan has no idea. he's from the wrong bioware. ]

bilbo baggins / the hobbit (rifter)

[respectably]

i. dragons (smaug 2 electric boogaloo)

[ it's one thing to face a single dragon, and quite another to face one joined by an army of younglings. this particular dragon is smaller than smaug had been, but just as fearsome and not half the conversationalist.

luckily, hobbits are very good at slipping away undetected, and though bilbo has sting drawn as a precaution, he's able to duck swiftly behind a boulder as the dragonlings trample past without so much as sparing him a glance. he intends to stay there, tucked away unseen, until the beasts move on but he notices a (possibly brave, possibly foolish) stranger fighting the things on their own.

not for the first time since arriving here, bilbo laments that the magic ring hadn't followed him. it would be a great help right about now.

still, he plucks up his courage and dashes forward, slashing sting at one of the small dragons as it lunges at the stranger's back. the blade doesn't do much damage against its scales, but the creature seems stunned by the blow all the same, and bilbo takes the opportunity to shout: ]

There are far too many! Run!

v. misc. (lake-town. oh wait no redcliffe.)

[ this land is just as different from home as it is alike, but there's something about redcliffe village that makes bilbo feel a little less discontented. it reminds him of lake-town in a way, if lake-town's master had been a better man. he visits as often as he can, delighting in the shops and trade stalls and puzzling over bits of overheard conversation concerning mages and rifts and demons.

today he finds himself at the docks, simply gazing out at the horizon as he enjoys crisp red apple. ]

If I look hard enough I can almost imagine home is out there somewhere. [ he gestures out across the water. he doesn't just mean the shire, of course, but middle-earth. ] I know it can't be, but it's a nice thought. Makes all the rest of this seem less strange.

v

[puravida]

[ Vida doesn't frown, but her lips purse slightly as she reaches out for the map. ]

May I?

[ She shudders slightly as she takes it, imagining corpse dust baked deep into the fading pages. Yep. That's definitely Dick Mountain, and turning the page sideways doesn't help. How provincial, to make such a thing a landmark — but then, she's certain they'd do the same in Val Royeux, if given the slightest chance. ]

You took this from a human?

[ She brushes a corner lightly, bringing a series of square runes to light. The Common tongue, not itself a mystery; plenty of peasants can read these, though not their own letters. Still, it doesn't hurt to confirm. ]

v

[puravida]

Does it?

[ Vida passes down a bit of cloth-wrapped cheese. A Redcliffe specialty, she's told, as though isolation didn't make half of Ferelden's recipes unique. ]

I'd thought it might be easier, to think of us as separate. A peculiar dream. Here, you must try these together.

c:

[theprettyone]

Now Rory is in the uncomfortable position of facing someone who clearly knows him but of whom he has absolutely no recollection. This man must be pre-New York — a relative of Amy's, maybe? He tries to think back if he'd been at their wedding but can't recall (and the man had, of course, but Rory doesn't realize it).

"Er. Hello," he says, with a hesitant sort of friendliness reserved only for situations like these. "Dunno, actually. I was on my way home one evening and then I was here." He shrugs and there's a pause that lasts a half a second at most before he launches straight into: "Sorry, have we met?"

II

[limier]

Wren sighs, and pushes herself away from the wall, to plant feet solidly between Dorothea and Skyhold's passing gaggle.

"Pockets, please." She gestures: It's not entirely a request. There have been enough visitors in and out of late to give cover for all manner of small misdeed. The theft of material goods is a lesser threat than that of information — or of anything that Thea might have intended to leave behind. "Since you've nothing to hide."

Save for a lot of words. She's never understood why people think talking makes you look more trustworthy. Wren has no real authority here, and she knows it, but she also knows that even outside of armor she can be a hell of a barrier.

It's another long moment before she blinks, and her eyes narrow. There's some faint familiarity to Thea, the nagging impression of an association. She can't place it, but she can guess well enough. There are few places outside a Circle where she's spoken to elves. A servant? Or a mage?

[wontforgetyou]

If not for the fact he's carrying a torch right at the moment, chances are his arms would go right across his chest in a mixture of denial and disbelief. As it is, his expression covers a lot of both of those emotions, the suspicion that's there deepening even further.

"You knew me? Look, I've not clapped eyes on you before in my life. Just because you're a rifter like I am doesn't mean a thing, even if we are both stuck with this shard and everything that comes along with that."

Plus he still doesn't know what the man's doing here, other than possibly being daft and trying to talk with a dragon, and his mouth tugs quite firmly off to one side.

"Now are you going to start giving me some answers, or am I going to have to take some steps to get some?"

[magpienests]

"Excuse me?" she asks, turning to this... whoever this is with an incredulous look. Not that she's actually all that surprised, really, but still. She looks her up and down a moment and then smiles and (somewhat cheekily) adds, "Ah, you must be one of the local guard, yes? For a moment I thought you a stranger feigning authority where you have none, but that could certainly not be the case."

Wren's accent is so Fereldan after all.

In any case, Thea pats her sides exaggeratedly, as if searching for something and not finding it. "As I said, this is but a misunderstanding. I've nothing to hide. All that I have on me is a few copper pennies, a bit of jerky, and a knife for protection... Against the beasts in this area of course." She doesn't even have her staff on her at the moment.

"Unless elves are not allowed to carry such things here? Then I shall of course hand them over immediately. I am new to the area and was simply unaware."

[limier]

She's tempted, but there'd be no point to it.

Wren doesn't believe the story for a second, still, one woman with a knife can't do much without first slipping out of sight. Skyhold is notoriously — disconcertingly — liberal in its beliefs. Casting herself as a villain, shaking down some poor refugee, that'd be a shit plan. That'd be a great way for someone to disappear into a crowd.

Better to settle this with a warning.

"Call me a friend of the barman." Anyone who lets her drink without chatter is a friend... and more important are the ones currently sequestered in talks upstairs. "I'm familiar with the fortress. You will have no trouble with beasts within the walls."

She stares, lets herself loom.

"Skyhold makes little trouble for those that do not seek it." Now there's a rank lie. The whole place is trouble. "But here — you must have been lost. I'd be happy to lead you to those in charge of settling visitors."

[magpienests]

Thea smiles thankfully, even almost genuinely thankfully.

"That would be most appreciated," she says with a nod. "I'm afraid my sense of direction is not the best. And it does not help that neither is my ability to resist the temptation of curiosity.

"I see an unmarked door, for instance, with a strange sound coming from behind it. The mystery will hound me all the day long if I do not at least take a peek. If you can say this is not the same for you, then you are a stronger-willed woman than I."

[limier]

"Would I have stopped you, otherwise?" Willpower is kind of her thing, but curiousity is the side effect of having a brain. Too much of it, on the other hand... "I recommend tempering its boundaries while here. Skyhold is a place of business, and of war. There's more to be uncovered in the library in leisure,"

A fishhook of a suggestion. Many city elves are literate, but their origins narrower.

"And I believe one of the Chantry sisters keeps a task board for the idle. Did you find what you sought, behind that door?"

Fucking. She will be very surprised if it wasn't fucking — in Thea's tale, if not the truth. Whatever the source, she'll confirm with the gossips later.

[respectably]

Oh! Thank you!

[ he takes the cheese gratefully, but doesn't try it right away. instead he considers her suggestion, brow furrowed. ]

I thought so, too, at first, [ he admits, ] And I was wrong. I want to help the Inquisition, I do, but I also like to think that when it's all said and done I'll have my own home to go back to.

[ he sets his food aside for a moment to fish around in his pocket for the acorn he'd picked up at beorn's. when he finds it, he holds out for her to see. ]

I picked this up on my last adventure. I wanted to plant it in my garden – I still want to.

[reconsidered]

Yeah.

[ at least he thinks so — it's so much easier to identify skeletons out in space.

because, you know. aliens. ]

You think it could be a joke? I mean, where I come from if someone draws something like that there's usually alcohol involved. And, uh, someone's face. It's hard to imagine it could actually lead to something important.

[puravida]

It is possible. [ She squints up. ] But there are... hills, I know of. Named similarly.

[ She'll let him take a guess at what those resemble. ]

Nature is the Maker's great marvel. [ Dryly. There's a name for dick mountain. It had to be marvelous if Andraste — well, there's a bit of blasphemy she's never going to voice aloud. ] Still, perhaps we shall edit the record a little for posterity, no?

[ She's insisted on coming along, on recording this little expedition, in part of her efforts to better the image of Rifters. This would not help. She gestures to the path ahead. ]

The mystery may kill me if we turn back now. I shall be eighty-five, bed-ridden, surrounded by grandchildren. They'll cry and plead for a story I cannot finish.

[ The pun is entirely intentional. ]

[puravida]

[ She peers carefully, but doesn't reach out for it. It would be terribly rude, to grab at such a personal treasure — and if the thought of holding something from another world terrifies her at a deep, primal level, well. No one else needs to know. ]

It's lovely. No doubt it shall be a grand tree. [ Like the ones in the alienage, she thinks, but he doesn't need to know that either, how vivid the oak a symbol of squalor. ] Perhaps you might bring something of ours back, when you go.

[ She smiles a little at that. ]

What is it like, your home?

[magpienests]

Thea sighs, disappointed, and then shrugs. "Alas, I am afraid I found nothing, surprisingly, but an empty storage room that your friend, did you say? Was quite keen to keep me away from. Though perhaps this is best, considering such suspicions as have fallen upon me for my... wayward wandering."

She waves the thought away with one hand and continues, "In any case, your recommendations?" She pauses a moment. "They are wise words. Though if such things were so easy for all of us to live up to as they are to say, the world would be very different, wouldn't it?"

She says it like an amusing observation, rather than a dismissal.

Sorry for the late response. Spend the week being sick.

[nosand]

"Someone?" Anakin echoed and forgot to groan in protest while vaguely turning into the direction he had originally come from. Of course he'd show Obi-Wan the way, but complaining about having to do so was just... Well. It was how they did things.

Giving a short sign with his hand for Obi-Wan to follow him, Anakin moved forward "You sure sound like you've been here a while, Master. Haven't we met at the temple just yesterday?"

[not_the_question]

The Doctor offers a slightly uncomfortable smile.

"Home... Of course... And home is... London or New York?"

Time lines, they're a thing and he tries to respect them, when he can. Well, he respects them until Rory asks that last question and he decides he doesn't care enough and Rory is more important.

"Oh, yes. Yes we have. Travelled together a bit. You used to be plastic."

[not_the_question]

"Whoa, oh, oh!"

The Doctor raises his hands in a placating manner.

"Jamie. Right. I look really different, but I'm the Doctor."

Unless Jamie can't remember him, but he thought the Time Lords had allowed for them to remember one adventure... To be fair, his memories of his early days isn't what it used to be.