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

[dreadedwolf]

[ he actually considers the question for several moments. something for the simple pleasure, hm? well.. ] Orlais. Frilly cakes. [ yes, thank you, he's entirely serious. ] I like Orlesian pastries in general, really. [ he's certain he'd run out of paper if he had to list everything he finds wrong with orlais, but they do have a few things that he appreciates and enjoys.

apart from silly small indulgences, though, and his painting, he generally doesn't allow himself much. he has too much work to do, even without his full power.

thranduil's comment earns a curious glance. ] Do you seek to see Skyhold, then, or elsewhere? [ he's confident that the fortress will keep its secrets, but it's still something to keep an eye on if that's the case. ]

[rowancrowned]

[ an honest answer. well, thranduil wasn't expecting an outright lie- deflections seem to be more to solas' taste, but thranduil can't fault him for it. it's his own preferred distraction. ] What makes a cake frilly?

[ is it the icing, the ingredients? he's curious, leaning forward ever so slightly, lips barely parted. the hunk of stone and whatever else in his lap is gently ignored and set to the side in favor of the conversation. ] I suspect Skyhold will be easier to begin with, being as layered as it is. But I find myself visiting very strange places, and I would like to know more about them.

[ perhaps not that orlesian bathhouse, but they'd made camp in some interesting places along the way. ]

[dreadedwolf]

I'm afraid I didn't ask. [ he still seems amused by it, though, a smile threatening the corner of his mouth. ] I suspect it comes down to the decorative icing and filling, though.

[ .. ah. yes, he had a feeling about this. and if anyone might very well find a way to discover what skyhold is hiding, he supposes it would be thranduil or galadriel, who have time and patience on their side, who are more like solas's own people than the elves of today. ]

You may find another place easier to begin with, [ he says after a thoughtful moment, tapping a knuckle lightly against his mouth. ] Skyhold is a somewhat unusual place in the Fade. [ for a reason, of course. ] I've dreamt in many places, wandering the wilds, and yet the Inquisition has flung itself farther and wider than I might have imagined it would. Perhaps next time I, too, will leave behind these stone walls and accompany you.

[rowancrowned]

[ it's a fair and fae smile. thranduil ought to acquire a box of cakes to make it appear again. and if it softens the way for more companionship, well- they are elves. they ought to stick together. ] So you are not the one to name them?

[ his time is- constrained. limited. corypheus is actually a threat, nevermind that his release was entirely the fault of that hawke person everyone won't stop talking about and elven oversight would have prevented this from happening at all-- but that's a conversation best left to him and galadriel, getting them nowhere here and really only leading to mutual commiseration when it's himself and his cousin. ]

I do not intend to do most of my sleeping outside the forest, but I would welcome your company next time I find myself ... adventuring. [ he laps a finger against the artifact, and gives a winning smile. plus, if solas comes out more, he won't have to share a tent with alistair again. ] Tell me, have you ever been-- seduced by an Orlesian comtesse?

[dreadedwolf]

[ he shakes his head, reaching for his tea again, cupping the mug between his palms. ] I'm afraid not. If I'm not mistaken, I believe the term was decided by the Iron Bull. I'm certain he's not the only one to think it, though.. simply the first to speak it in my hearing.

[ it's not like anyone can argue, either-- orlesians do like their food decorative.

he brings his tea to his lips, then nearly chokes on it as thranduil abruptly switches topics. he lowers the cup abruptly, coughing once into his fist and glancing up in some surprise. ] --I beg your pardon? [ seduced? by an orlesian comtesse? ] I-- no. [ he nearly laughs, sitting back in his chair, brows climbing. ] I'm afraid that I don't spend a great deal of time among the nobility. It sounds as if your last trip might have been rather interesting, though.

[rowancrowned]

All my compliments to the Iron Bull. [ it conjures up a pretty enough picture. orlesians do tend to over-decorate. thranduil half rises out of his chair, prepared to lend a hand, but resettles once solas stops dying. ] ... as I said. Strange places. Forgive me, I did not intend for you to be so [ considering the word. ] amused.

[ he was coming to the point where his little adventure was moving into 'amusing' and out of 'ridiculous'- though the bits with cassandra would always be fond memories. he sets the artifact back on the desk. ]

I do not recommend it. If you are curious. But we did pass ruins on our way there, and I mourned my inability to see.

[dreadedwolf]

Surprised, [ solas corrects with a hum that's nearly a laugh. ] I must admit that I wasn't expecting the shift in conversation. [ from pastries to seduction.. ]

I'll be certain to keep that in mind if I ever develop a taste for spoiled Orlesian ladies. [ the game is entertaining for a night or two, but that's all it is-- an interesting diversion. and they're all children, no matter how clever they think they are. they would have been eaten alive in arlathan, pitted against men and women who'd had thousands of years to perfect the art.

--anyway. the tea is no longer safe, apparently, so he instead laces his fingers together in his lap, expression curious. ] Tell me about them. They may indeed be somewhere worth dreaming in later.

[rowancrowned]

Do not. [ dryly, face schooled into perfect apathy. ] Tell me, is wrapping oneself in seaweed a Theodosian habit or merely a Mannish one?

[ but it had ended, as all things do, and the worst thing that had happened was her poorly veiled innuendo. he supposes gwenaelle also falls under the header of 'spoiled orlesian ladies', but he would be moved to make a solid argument to prove she's far better than the comtesse.

he reaches for solas' tea, curious what about it offended him so, and looks at solas for permission with his fingers barely touching the cup. ]

Tevene ruins with most of a roof. I suspected they had seen many travelers over the years.

[dreadedwolf]

[ wrapping oneself in.. seaweed? ] I think perhaps it's specifically an Orlesian habit. [ a thoughtful glance, and he nods briefly to give thranduil the permission he wants. ] Though one might perhaps make a case for Tevinter, as well. I suspect you'd have to ask Dorian.

[ honestly, he wouldn't be surprised about anything coming out of tevinter.

the description of the ruins earns an interested noise, and he leans forward to pull a book from the stack on the table, spreading it open. he flips several pages, then turns it toward thranduil, revealing a map that includes the route the other elf would have taken. ] Can you point out the location here? If nothing else, it's worth noting.

[rowancrowned]

[ thranduil takes the cup and breathes in the smell of the tea; takes a careful sip, doesn't twist his face up like the world is ending, and keeps in in hand while he rests the cup on the desk. ] It is best that Dorian Pavus and I keep a respectful distance. I am not fond of Tevinter.

[ and slavery would come up. thranduil doesn't want to give cassandra or cullen any reason to think of him as a threat- more than they do as is, and being unable to leash his tongue will bring only trouble. ]

Here. I am not sure how accurate the Mannish map-makers are, but [ he draws a small circle on the page with his finger. ] in this area. There is detritus from refugees, though nothing recent, and the firepit had not been used in weeks, if I was asked to guess.

[dreadedwolf]

[ if thranduil likes the tea, he's certainly welcome to it-- solas makes no attempts to take the cup back, instead humming out a small noise of agreement at the comment. ] Few of us are, I suppose. [ it's not as if solas has ever bothered to hold his tongue before when it comes to his opinions about.. well, literally anything. he's probably not likely to start. (doubtless, his apparent fearlessness can be somewhat shocking for some.) ] .. Dorian and I have had.. interesting discussions. [ that's sufficiently polite, surely.

he'd distracted by the map once more, though, leaning forward in his chair to peer over the area in interest. ] Wembly? He's meticulous, you needn't be concerned about that much, at least. [ he flips a few more pages into the book, finding a more detailed map of the area thranduil had indicated and frowning thoughtfully. ] .. It's why I'm somewhat surprised that he didn't make note of it. [ he glances back up, then, curious. ] You saw no indications that it might have been used by anyone more sinister than a common traveler, I take it?