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allthisshitisweird2016-09-15 06:33 pm
faderifting) wrote in allthisshitisweird2016-09-15 06:33 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE MEME!
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.
florus/fausta ( da oc )
[ there's a rather stunningly attractive.. man? let's say man. let's say androgynous man. he's wearing men's clothing, anyway, long-sleeved and high-necked and lightly armoured, his long dark hair elaborately braided and pinned at his nape to keep it out of the way. he's been peering thoughtfully at some of the wares in one of the roadside stalls, and on closer inspection, it seems to be simple, pretty hair-pins.
he taps his mouth for a few more thoughtful moments--and his hands are long-fingered and well-manicured--before finally plucking up one shaped like a flower and enameled a bright turquoise. he slides it into his hair, then turns to the person at the nearest stall with a quick, slightly flirtatious smile. ]
Does it suit me? [ that voice is confusing and that accent is decidedly tevene. ]
( crossroads | tavern )
[ remember that attractive vint from earlier you maybe saw from a distance? well, apparently you were wrong?? amazing how a few small changes can alter one's perception. with a few strands artfully loosened from the loops of braiding, lips painted scarlet, and the top of the high-necked top opened, it becomes apparent(???) that she's a woman. maybe. probably. there's definitely cleavage, anyway.
she's also apparently paying attention to.. someone, but when she notices the glance on her, she smiles, slow and promising and just a little wicked. man, woman, human, elf, whatever, she apparently doesn't make distinctions.
a moment later, she rises to her feet, weaving her way with careless grace between the other patrons, then seating herself quite close and leaning in. the smile, steady up until now, widens faintly, and she cuts copper-coloured eyes across the room to a young woman in a low-cut gown leaning against a very interested-looking drunk. ]
It's interesting, seeing how they ply their trade here. [ trade? which trade? ]
( skyhold )
[ florus makes no secret of his work back home; in fact, if anything, he seems to flaunt it.. tastefully. he's never learned to be ashamed, and given how far he's come for someone in his position in society, well, it would take quite a lot to teach him at this point.
despite that, he doesn't seem inclined to indulge in said work at skyhold. (for one thing, very few could actually afford him.) instead, he's taken quite enthusiastically to using the connections he's cultivated and the information he's collected over the years to help the inquisition in its fight. .. it means he writes a great number of letters, to be entirely honest.
.. which is what brings him here in the early evening, tapping on the doorframe to announce himself. herself, rather, as florus is almost certainly fausta today, given her skirts and jewelry and familiar scarlet lips.
she smiles, lifting a still-unsealed, neatly folded letter. ]
Perhaps you have a few moments for me? I need kinder phrasing than what I'm sorely tempted to use. The gentleman in question is, to put it gently, odious.
( wildcard?? )
[ what it says on the tin... ]
skyhold
she plucks a ribbon from the display and beckons florus to bend for her- he's got more than a solid half foot on her, after all, and then sets about weaving it through his braid. it sets off the color of the flower nicely, and she steps back to admire her work, clasping her hands together. ]
You look utterly divine, Florus.
[ as if he'd survive, being anything else. ]
no subject
High praise from the Lady Lucrezia, [ he teases gently, and drops a few coins for his hair pin into the stunned merchant's hand. ] Though I suppose it is part of my duties to be as distractingly attractive as I can manage.
[ he offers an arm, as if he's simply a gentleman escorting a high-born lady in this quaint southern stop on the way to literally anywhere else. ] I don't think that anyone quite knows what to do with either of us.
no subject
I think [ and she leans up as they stroll away. ] that you could distract one of these Fereldens right off their horse, if you chose.
[ a smile at the right time, a toss of his lovely hair- as florus or fausta, it wouldn't matter. these people are so unused to unrefinement. florus will devastate them. ]
Well, [ she says, and smiles winningly up at him, patting his arm in a reassuring manner. ] It is a good thing we aren't alone. So much harder to do away quietly with two.
no subject
[ he's heard quite a bit about the south, actually. he'd done his research before leaving the imperium. florus isn't where he is in life because he was incautious. besides, he quite likes lucrezia and he rather likes her brother; if he was going to travel with her, it only made sense to see what they were both getting themselves into. ]
I imagine they think we're both blood-mages, anyway, [ he muses after a moment, tipping his temple against her crown fondly. ] I wonder if Magister Pavus's son found it difficult here at first. .. Do you suppose he's gone native?
no subject
[ as for the south as an unwashed, uncultured whole- well, she's not been further than the silent plains until she came here. even a mage of middling talent like herself might have been stolen to one of the barbaric circles before all this. even with her name. but with things as they are, well-
cesare had declared it safe and necessary both that she go, so here she is. it smells approximately like she thought it might. ]
Oh, of course. [ she gives a very serious nod, brows slightly furrowed. ] And that we haven't seen the Pavus heir is more than enough all on its own, don't you think? I'd wager he's found himself a mabari to slobber all over him. [ she sighs. ] A shame.
no subject
florus echoes the sigh, then smiles at a puzzled looking inquisition scout. doubtless, it's rare to have a lady of lucrezia's quality in this place--florus himself earns curious glances even at home--and he'd be willing to wager that everyone in the area of any consequence will know by nightfall. more vints! vints that are, apparently, not terribly inclined toward murder or mayhem. at least not immediately. ]
A shame indeed, [ he adds a little mournfully. ] He's lovely. I suppose that's spoiled now, though. He'll have a beard, I'm certain, and an accent. [ a beat, mouth pursing thoughtfully. ] Still, we should call on him, I suppose.
no subject
not that lucrezia won't offer her family's resourced to reenforce that, of course. the borgia are where they are due to their abilities to make friends.
dainty, she steps over a puddle, minding her slippers. getting them wet would ruin them, and she hadn't the sense to get them enchanted whilst still in minrathous. ] Perhaps he can be civilized. When we call upon him! We'll bring the good wine and remind him of home.
[ hopefully he doesn't have a beard. hopefully they don't need to shave it off post-wine. ]
no subject
I'm certain by then that I'll long for the opportunity, though. Anything familiar. [ he's never been out of minrathous before now. and while florus is independent and confident, this is all still very, very foreign in some ways. ] I suppose we might also invite Felix Alexius while we're at it. I can't imagine that there are many more of us, though. [ unlike the orlesians, who are apparently legion. he's admittedly a little interested in inquiring about orlais. it's always sounded less unpleasant than the rest of the south. ]
no subject
Why, Florus, if I didn't know you better, I'd think you were suggesting a party.
[ and after the incident with the chestnuts, she's been itching to plan another. maybe-- a little less tevene, but she's still very good at rounding up a group of people and letting them have fun. people say the most interesting things at parties. ]
No. [ the pretty little rosebud of her mouth is pinched for a moment as she goes through the list of people in minrathous worth knowing and finds no more. ] I think you're right.