TEST DRIVE MEME!

[faderifting]

fur: matted. belly: empty. claws: out.

i am forcibly removed from the hinterlands

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. DRUFFY

How did you come to be here, trying to guide this druffalo across this river? You may have been ordered to -- even if it's beneath your talents, sometimes something just needs to get done and you're the only one there. Or maybe you passed the bereft farmer himself and were moved by his sadness to seek out his lost druffalo on your own. Or perhaps you were on another mission entirely when you came across the beast, beset by wolves, and made the very good guess that she belonged at the nearby farms instead of out in the wild. The end result of all three is that you are here, with a druffalo, trying to cross a river. And above that river is a rift. And you're about to learn that a druffalo is entirely capable of mowing down demons singlehoofedly. Maybe you can even ride her into battle.

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

[ashen_one]

To Gaultier's eyes, Obi Wan has the look of a cleric of some kind; and though his hands are free of holy chimes, the armored knight is swift to suspicion. But... that is not to say he's forgotten his manners, or the gravity of his holy mission.

He flips up his visor a little, squinting after the figure. It had been so long since he'd seen an unhollowed man that he almost didn't trust his eyes. Where was his grave-withered skin? Had he not yet perished -- or was it some Vinheim sorcery?

Too well-mannered to ask outright, he slowly moved his hand to the hilt of his sword - a display for the other to see, an obvious but polite warning. "Name your allegiance, sir! I am Gaultier de la Guerre, Unkindled ash, and I offer no harm to those who would not stay me from my holy purpose."

[obi_wanmanshow]

The movement draws attention, but Obi-Wan senses no immediate danger. A threat is only a threat until it becomes an inevitability, and the greater part of defense rests in waiting until one is actually attacked, to act in return.

Outwardly, he appears unconcerned.

"You're a Rifter, as well?" It's an honest question, and he raises his own hand, to show the mark there, gleaming and green, unnatural but quiescent. The question is silent, but obvious-- This mark, too? "I am Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, of the Order of Jedi Knights. I've been working with the Inquisition, an organization not unfamiliar with the importance of holy purposes. We have a camp, nearby. It's a safe place to rest, get your bearings, if you like. Yes?"