allthisshitisweird | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

i. not yet in the path of the dragon.

[ she doesn't appreciate dragons the way that she appreciates bears. being avvar, it is perhaps unsurprising that she thinks this way, but she would be the first to admit she can't put her finger on why she feels this way. possibly out of tradition, out of being habitually respectful of bears (a regular sight in the frostback basin, and here, in certain regions of the hinterlands) and having little contact with dragons.

hence her curiosity. to mount a willing expedition into known dragon territory is not for the faint of heart, which is perhaps why there were so few takers to tag along with her. it is not the safety of numbers she was after, in any case — more the company. she had not decided whether she wishes to engage it, not yet. she'll come to that. good luck to whoever has taken the plunge to come with her. ]

Unprincipled. That is what dragons are.

[ arguably, so are bears. many wild creatures would count as such. there is a crease in tvallan's calm brow that suggests she is having more a conversation with herself than anything else. ]

ii. keeping an eye on the crossroads.

[ while tvallan would not consider herself an arm of justice or anything as noble (or pompous, take your pick) as that, merchants taking the piss within earshot is not something she can idly ignore. when calm — which is, admittedly, most of the time — tvallan does not cut an immediately intimidating figure, despite her height and broad shoulders, bulked out by fur. even the warpaint looks fairly unassuming when coupled with her habitually mild smile. catch her in a mood, however, and that's something else.

she tips her head, eyeing the errant seller with a cool eye and thin lips. ]

My kin do not hold much value in your gold, lowlander, but this much I know; such a flimsy breastplate is barely worth my breakfast. [ firmly, ] I'd not advise you to take such a sum off this patron, lest you want your reputation to suffer.

[ at times like these, people tend not to argue with the six foot tall woman and her great sword. the merchant very suddenly retreats, without completely the sale. to the very nearly swindled customer: ]

Can't trust anyone nowadays. You're best off asking about crafting materials, so the sly ones don't feel as confident in trying to trick you.

ooc.

( OTA!! and my third time appearing on the tdm here with tvallan 8') but third time is the charm right... )

Edited 2016-10-13 21:54 (UTC)

That's like saying a thunderstorm is unprincipled. Which, sure, but that's beside the point. They're raw forces of nature, pure chaos. A pretty awesome sight, when you're not in its path.

[Korrin, who doesn't give a flying fuck about bears other than as throw rugs, speaks in an admiring tone about dragons. Yes, they're destructive and need to be put down when in the path of civilians, but she can appreciate their majesty for all that. Something about dragons just calls to her, whether or not those rumors about qunari and dragon blood is true. The Vashoth woman, staff in one hand and empty spirit blade hilt in the other, considers herself ready to take on any challenge, dragons included.]

I cannot argue she is impressive.

[ there is a brief pause as tvallan glances towards her companion thoughtfully, pleased for the conversation. ]

They live and die by their own terms. There are no accords to be made, no harmony to be struck. Not really. Wolves and bears are wild, but open to reason, unspoken agreements. Dragons can only be appeased — or defeated.

[ in the shadow of the rocky passage that leads to the dragon's territory, tvallan and korrin are, for the moment, unnoticed. but an avvar and qunari lunging headfirst into her path... that's a confrontation that they'll be hearing all the way in redcliffe, she'd wager. ]

[Korrin flashes a grin, already having a soft spot for Avvar. To be taking on such a creature with one at her side seems rather fitting. Asher has gone beyond, but his kin are still a presence in her life, in some form or another.]

That's what I love about it, the simplicity. Dragon-hunting is so much easier than politics; there's no political bullshit to deal with, you just have to stay alive long enough to make sure it falls. And all its annoying children.

[Because she has no doubt that those are around, too. They always are. With that in mind, she glances down to her belt.]

I've a couple of pitch grenades to spare, if you want any. That ought to slow them down enough for me to fry them.

[ Alan smiles up. It's a slight thing, fit for a slight man. Tvallan must stand nearly half a head above him. ]

You can't trust anyone, [ He agrees, mildly. ] But I should trust your advice.

[ It's not unkindly meant, but there's a rueful edge to the words. He gestures out to the retreating merchant. The man pauses to shoot a surly glance over his shoulder... then notices Alan pointing, and abruptly speeds up. ]

Not many value gold right now. Isn't that funny? The less people want it, the more of it they want.

TEST DRIVE MEME!

tvallan "stone-heart" hanesdotten ( dragon age oc )

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II! — and forgive the icon i couldn't resist her tol