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

[virabelas]

[ he gives him a slightly alarmed look-- somewhat startling on his typically-solemn or scowling features. he glances from thranduil's face to his hair, then back again. ] .. How is it not unmanageable if you never cut it? [ some sort of magic? it's not as if he'd never seen the upper class using magic for things like cosmetic changes. he hadn't expected something so similar from another world entirely, though.

the mention of a shorn head--presumably in the inquisition--distracts him, though. he smooths his palm over the side of his head briefly, then hums out a thoughtful noise. ]

You mean Solas. He's.. different. Not like the others, at least. [ no, not like them at all.. but he'll reveal himself in his own time. when he has strength enough. when he must. ]

[rowancrowned]

[ he can't hold back a smile at the abrupt change from a placid expression to alarm, a quirk of his lips belying amusement. ] It stops growing at some point. Settles, if you will.

[ wanna touch it, abelas?

he thinks of luthien, briefly. but she had been special, in a way none of them would ever be again. hair that long might be more of a difficulty than a delight, if the person gifted with it was required to fight, or do anything other than lounge and sing.

he watches abelas' hands, and how the branching patterns of his vallaslin extend beyond his forehead, wrap about his temple. ] You have met him?

[virabelas]

Ah. [ well, that's convenient, and answers the question neatly. he can hardly imagine his hair being actually painful to cut. thranduil's home becomes stranger by the moment, it seems-- as thedas must seem to thranduil. (as thedas is to abelas, in fact, each time he wakes.) ] .. I only wear my hair this way out of habit, now. I feel as if it would take too much of my time, if I had your length. [ it's simply a difference in priorities, he supposes. thranduil's hair is important to him, as it apparently is to other elves of his world. of course he'd take care of it. abelas thinks nothing of his own, beyond not shaming mythal or his fellow sentinels in his appearance.

the question earns a short shake of his head. ] I've seen him. I haven't been here long, but I didn't survive this long by being unobservant. [ a beat. ] He's studied the rifts. He may have answers I seek. I'll introduce myself to him at some point, if he doesn't seek me out first. [ guilt twists inside him at the lie, but only briefly. it's a necessary one, and if the wolf takes thranduil into his confidence, abelas will apologize later for his deception. ]

[rowancrowned]

It is... [ again, struggling for words, fingers hesitating, caught between the small gestures he makes when he speaks. this isn't nearly as taboo as it might be, if abelas were not so easily swept into the same social category as an elfling who needed to be made aware of efforts ]. a social activity. One might comb with one's patrol-mates, to better understand one another.

[ and now maybe it makes sense why it bothers him that solas is shorn. how are they to have any meaningful friendship if they can't have this very shared elven experience? thranduil laces his fingers together, raises a brow. ]

He seems set in his ways. If he is in Skyhold, he is in the rotunda, eating, or sleeping. [ which he knows for reasons, most being that he can see solas go about his day from where thranduil sits in the library. ] What, exactly, are your questions?

[virabelas]

[ he's not sure, in that case, how it differs from any other social activity-- but he suspects he couldn't understand unless he was from that culture. ] .. I suppose my people simply used magic in the same way. Mages might spend years or decades crafting or casting a single spell. [ he says it as if he isn't a mage himself, but it's different for him. he's never had time for that sort of frivolous thing, and since discovering his magic, it's been used primarily to help him survive and to protect mythal and her secrets.. and his fellow sentinels.

he hesitates, then shakes his head. ] We have no closer tradition. [ a beat, then a little dubiously: ] Though perhaps lovers enjoy such things with one another. [ grooming one another and the like. in his days on the streets, he'd heard stranger requests, after all.

he grunts thoughtfully at the response, giving the other elf a sideways glance. ] Not social, then. [ well.. not social in the way some are, at least. in his memories, the wolf was always willing to speak to those that knew how to listen.

he twists the end of his braid between his fingers, mouth twitching into a small frown again. ] I wish to know as much as I can discover about the.. creature that opened the Breach, and how it was done. I wish to keep further rifts from opening, and end this crisis that I might return to my sleep. [ a beat, then he sighs quietly. ] And perhaps I might be of some use, given my age and experience. I suppose we shall see.

[rowancrowned]

[ he considers abelas for a heavy moment. he is wholly the sort of person thranduil wants around, the sort of elf he wants by his side. the sort of ally he wants to cultivate- and hopefully befriend as well. ]

If you would permit an offering of cultural exchange, I offer myself in friendship. [ a raised hand, fingertips brushing gently over his heart; an inclined head. ] And firmly without the connotation of... lovers. [ that's a twitch of a smile. ] Rest assured I have no designs on your... innocence.

[ another lil smile for him, please, abelas. that startled look is becoming. ]

Social enough. Fiercely clever. He can be bribed away from his books as one would bribe an elfling. He is... busy. [ not that that's stopped thranduil from raining down folded animals bearing notes on him when he begins to despair of endless books on trade policy and ferelden skirmishes. ] Perhaps-- do not repeat the elfling bit.

[virabelas]

[ the look he gives thranduil is startled for a moment, then slightly odd, until he finally seems to realize that the blond is joking. ] I haven't much innocence left to desire, even were you so inclined. [ he's also not in the habit of allowing strangers to touch him, even when it's innocent. still.. how lonely it must be, to be here essentially alone, surrounded by well-meaning, ignorant children. he supposes it wouldn't hurt to make himself a little more approachable.. at least for a fellow--if foreign--elf.

at last, he nods, short and decisive. ] If you wish it. .. Preferably not while I'm in full armour.

[ it seems too militaristic for an act that thranduil says is social.

at last--at last!--the faintest, barest hint of humour flickers across the amber eyes, and is gone again. ] Ah.. yes. Somehow, I doubt he'd appreciate such a comment. [ though he can well imagine the look on his face if he did share it. ] I shall hope that he'll make a little time for me, then.

[rowancrowned]

I am far from inclined. [ best make this simple and neat now, before misunderstandings are risked. ] I am wed, and my people do not stray. Ever.

[ he misses her with a longing that could not be made greater even across words. and it is viciously leashed, bound by duty- always duty, always the reminder that he has many, many miles to go before he will see her again.

it has no place here. even less, without his son. ]

I wish it. And- I must ask, for hospitality's sake- you have other clothing with you?

[ well, that expression is its own reward. he's glad to know it can be done. ] He will.

[ abelas is... unique. solas will see that. ]

[virabelas]

.. Would that my own did not. [ he hadn't been concerned, truly, but it's good to hear anyway. not that he normally cares what others do behind closed doors, but abelas himself isn't inclined and hasn't been inclined in many centuries, and would prefer to keep anyone from thinking otherwise.

the question makes him jerk his head toward the mountain range. ] I have a pack with a change of clothing and supplies, which I stowed and warded before I descended from the mountains. [ he's not entirely certain he can see himself staying in skyhold or the camp, but he doesn't intend to go far. at least, not so long as he's needed. ]

[rowancrowned]

You are quite well appointed. [ and he has people who had supplies for him, some manner of home. which means there are more like him, and that is extraordinary. there is so much hope than there was just this morning.

he steps away from the wall, still minding a near-perfect circle around abelas that he leaves to this other elf- a healthy offering of space that is wholly his, a place thranduil won't step into. ]

I hope we will see one another frequently, Abelas. You have given me much to think about. And-- [ his face darkens by a few fractions. ] mind the Templars.