TEST DRIVE MEME!

[faderifting]

I ROLL TO SEDUCE THE BEAR

Tucked between the massive Lake Calenhad and the icy Frostback Mountains in Ferelden’s chilly, hilly south, the Hinterlands are a region covered in patchy forests, small farms, and a bustling fishing village called Redcliffe. The region was recently the frontline of a war between mages and Templars, but the Inquisition’s military presence has restored order and is now focused on helping the locals and influx of refugees rebuild their lives. Whether you’re a recent recruit or a hardened veteran, a Fereldan local or someone who recently fell out of a rift from another world, you may be asked to go lend a hand.

I. FLOODS

A burst of unseasonably warm weather (in no way inspired by real life events) is initially greeted with relief, gloves discarded and scarves unwrapped—but followed within the week by severe flooding across the region. Maybe you’re sent out to help debris from a road or collect the bodies of those swept away. Or maybe you’re less lucky and instead there when the waters come, shepherding refugees to higher ground, or caught riding in the flow on a dislodged roof or log. Maybe there’s a bear on the roof with you.

II. TREASURE HUNTS

Given the lack of banks and lockboxes, when the people here have something they value, they often hide it—under the ground, in a tree, behind a waterfall. So here you are, with a sketch of some landmarks found on a body, trying to find… something. If you find it, it might be useful: weapons, runes, a stash of supplies. Or it might be someone’s box of racy letters and a request to deliver them to a now-married woman who will slap you on delivery.

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

gervais vauquelin | former enchanter in the white spire | original

[dissono]

skyhold

( to some few, gervais may be a familiar face; a fixture in the white spire from a young age, his research and occasional loan out as a healer took him throughout orlais over the years, other circles, other cities. he'd been on such an expedition with templars averie and werner when the spire had been annulled; none had ever resurfaced.

or, rather, til now.

gervais does not announce himself, though he perhaps should. he joins the other healers at the tents - his experience proves useful for the refugee women expecting children. and, quieter, those women who would...prefer not to be expecting children, in the current climate. he is steady and kind and asks only the questions necessary, works hard and patient, and

occasionally

very occasionally

inquires after the templar presence. were any of them at the spire? just wondering. other musings include taking the temperature of the mood in response to lady vauquelin's newsletter, and if other mages make plans for the end of all this. )

[pawpatrol]

[ From outside the tent, there's the rustle of approaching feet, the muffled sound of a sharp: Sit, sit down will you, it won't be long you great baby —

The conversation carries on nearly a full minute, entirely one-sided, before a small elven face pushes its way through the flap. She seems poised to speak, but cuts herself off at once upon sighting Gervais. Excuse her a moment, while she just. Stares. ]

You're not the midwife, [ There's the faintest touch of accusation to it, as though he's gone and made off with her somewhere. After a moment, Cerise catches herself to add: ] Sir.

[dissono]

I, ah.

( a slight pause; gervais, in the process of cleaning his hands with a cloth - lowers the cloth. )

No.

( a fair assessment. he regards her mildly, but without surprise; this is perhaps not the first such reaction he's had from a little head popped in through his tent. )

I, ah - I can. I can assist. ( a beat, and he properly comes away from the table where he's been cutting apart dried witherstalk-- ) If, if, ah, if it's needful.

[pawpatrol]

No,

[ Her eyes narrow, but then — a second head now, slobbering and blocky, shoves its way below to sniff at the floor of the tent, and she vanishes to shoo the dog out. Another moment, and this time when Cerise steps in, she fastens the entry behind her. A wrinkly face snuffles at the cloth. ]

But Madame said I could come for supplies if I ever needed them. [ A short glance to the witherstalk. ] Not that, just for my practice.

[ This may be something of an exaggeration. ]

[dissono]

Ma--

( mm. his very slight smile; polite, apologetic. he manages to occupy a remarkably neat space for a man of perhaps around or slightly above six foot, broad-- doesn't crowd the tent, or the young elf that's entered it. )

Madame. ( a careful echo. )

I, ah, c- I can, cannot speak for, ah, madame's supplies. My, ah, own.

( a brief gesture; the raise of an eyebrow. what do you need, small person. )

[pawpatrol]

That'd be a true kindness,

[ It'll do. ]

The thread I've got's not strong enough for stitches — [ Maker, but he's big, isn't he? Doesn't move like most shem at least, always stomping to fill up the most space possible. Cerise takes advantage of it to stretch out her own motions, extending casually into the space. ] — And I'm all out of prophet's laurel, of course.

[ Primarily because there's no way in sin she might afford it. ]

Are you the new surgeon, then, sir?

[ He hardly looks it. She doesn't even know if Skyhold's been promised one any time soon. But you don't out and out ask someone, so why are you been fiddling with vaginas, exactly? ]

[dissono]

( cerise gets a long, measuring look when she asks for prophet's laurel. very casually delivered, that. skillful. gervais has spent much of his life in the circle, but he is not quite that naive--

his failure to question it or object does not mean he didn't notice. it means he expects her to remember his recognition, and that he gave it to her regardless, as he sets about portioning her requests. it isn't a generous amount, but he perhaps does not have so much of it himself, either; she can be glad of what she gets, as she might well have had none of it. )

Healer, ( he says, as he works. thread for stitches, is it. well, she's in luck; gervais has never believed in being limited to only magical solutions. ) A, ah, a healer. My, ah, my experience.

My experience is relevant.

( to midwifery. )

[pawpatrol]

[ Cerise smiles back, broad and undisguised.

Not so dull, is he? It's the words, really, and the size. Makes him out different. But a gift's far better than lying, however scanty the portions; it's less likely to get her an earful later. She isn’t stupid, she knows this thing in her hand, it’s given her a new kind of leeway. She’d have to fuck up pretty bad before they tossed her out.

That doesn’t mean she’s looking for a lecture.

She considers making a joke about relevant experience, and thinks better of it. Cerise settles, perching on the edge of the table as he works. If they’re going to be honest about things, then she’s definitely going to sit down a spell. ]

You know, it’s not so bad here. [ A small offering: Healer means a lot of things, a lot of places. But here, it mostly means mage. ] People get used to it.

[ She doesn’t know much about magic. Doesn’t much care to. But she does know the past few years have been weird as shit for everyone. Probably weirder if you live your whole life in — well, he sounds Orlesian, and who knows where they live. Other than in Orlais. Some nice little room somewhere, is the point. ]

[eolasemah]

[The little Dalish can often be found on the periphery of Gervais' efforts in the tents, supplying her poultices and doing what she can to make the sick more comfortable.
To many of his questions she shrugs, or shakes her head: she knows nothing of the local Templars other than to stay away from them, she doesn't find much relevance to her own life in the newsletter and doesn't read it terribly often, and...
the end? What end?
The phrase seems to concern her.]

[dissono]

The, ah, the - that is, the -

in the, ah, the event. ( his gesture is more eloquent than his speech, made in the vague direction of where lies the breach. )

That, ah, this is. That this is. This is not, ah, all in, ah, vain.

[eolasemah]

[Sina watches him with increasing uncertainty as he stammers, though she does take his meaning eventually. Perhaps she lets him go on for a little longer than she should have, but sometimes there's a small pleasure in making humans uncomfortable.]

Well, [she reasons,] if it is, I'm ending anyway. [She gestures to the anchor in her chest with an unusual flippancy.] I don't see that I personally have much of a choice.

[dissono]

( there's no evidence of discomfort, though her assumption is understandable if she only listens to his speech; his hands still steady at his work, his manner open, habitually nonthreatening.

had she interrupted, it would have only taken him longer. )

A, ah, clear. Clear, ah - clear plan.

( drolly. )

[eolasemah]

[Being still only about a year into regular interaction with people outside her clan, Sina has no reason to perceive a verbal tic as anything other than someone acting strangely. At least she doesn't say so, since... well, it's Skyhold, she's met far stranger by this point.]

I thought so, [she says, a little more gently, peering over at what he's doing.] Can I help?

[dissono]

( understandably spare with his words when they aren't immediately necessary, gervais doesn't bother answering her directly so much as sliding a slightly smaller knife toward her on the table and portioning the herbs he's slicing smaller into two piles, rather than one. he turns his hands, to make it clearer how he's cutting; raises an eyebrow in inquiry.

does she need him to demonstrate more carefully, or - )

[eolasemah]

[Of course she doesn't. With a little smile and nod of understanding, Sina takes the knife and continues what he was doing, her automatic deftness indicating this isn't her first time performing such a task. In fact, there are few he could have given her that would come more naturally.

She works in silence for a little while, respectful of the overall serenity of the healing tents, but eventually she has to ask.]

What's your plan?

[justice_is_blond]

[He's starting, slowly, to make known what he thinks should happen for mages after this, what he wants to see take shape, which is why he's not entirely surprised to hear another mage asking after it. Combine that with talk of White Spire, though, and Anders comes over to join the new healer sooner rather than later.]

You've just joined us, have you not? From White Spire, perhaps? I've heard it be mentioned in the same breath as you.

[dissono]

( gervais isn't hard to find, when one sets out to look for him - 'tall, broad ginger orlesian that takes roughly seven years to get through a sentence' makes him rather difficult to miss. he looks up at the sound of another man's arrival; he pauses at his work, when he sees who it is.

he wouldn't have known anders on sight some weeks hence, but in even the short time he's been with the inquisition, this particular rebel mage looms large, occasionally in the same breath as a woman in whom he still takes some measure of pride. it does merit a pause. )

I, ah. ( he doesn't seem uncomfortable, nor uncertain of the words he stumbles over; measured, rather, wiping his hands clean with a cloth and straightening. ) I am, ah, rather, I was, was with the Spire. For, ah, for - for many, ah, years.

Not, ah, recently.

( it's hard but not impossible to be dry through his halting words. no one is recently from the spire, survivors scattered to the winds. or to here, as it turns out. he would like to think others live, elsewhere, as he did; he wonders how lucky they could possibly be. )

[justice_is_blond]

[His expression goes a little wry at the 'not recently.' No one, thankfully, is recently from a Circle.]

Of course. I meant it as a frame of reference, but it's an outdated one. A new one's in order.

[Which he considers a moment before shrugging.]

You've been around the healing tents for a time and we've not spoken before. Considering you've not shot glares my way, greeting you is a little overdue. I'm Anders.

[Known, yeah, but introductions are a good way to start. He holds out a hand.]

[dissono]

( gervais has, in fairness, probably never shot anyone a glare in his life; his face just doesn't do that. it isn't because he's such a soft-heart he's never wanted to, only - what good would it ever have done him? what attention would it have drawn that he needed? too many variables.

too many templars.

so it's to his credit that he doesn't steel himself to clasp anders' wrist in greeting, but there was never any other way for him to react, not really. other mages have adapted, he can see, have lowered their hackles or their guards, have embraced the freedom that is still so tenuously held. he ... is only a few years shy of fifty, now, and he's been alone a long time since the dissolution of the circles. there hasn't been anyone with him for him to react to in some new and interesting way, if he ever -

he doesn't know if he'll ever walk that easily, but the only pause is the one where once upon a time he'd have said enchanter first. )

G-G-G-Gervais Vauquelin.

( something about the cheekbones, the way he holds himself. the resemblance is subtle, the less one knows any of the vauquelins, but present. )

[intruthandlove]

[ It is not her intention to be the latest stress for what Diana feels is an already overworked medical staff. However this is where the Inquisition scout who was doing a remarkable job at not screaming deposited her with the general plea of Do something about her! issued to the world at large before beating their hasty retreat.

Diana is the one who pushes aside the flap of the tent, stepping thru and generally trying not to drip blood on anything vitally important. ]

Pardon me, but I'm afraid I need a bit of assistance. [ Really, she's doing fantastically for someone who looks like they were mauled by a bear. ]

[dissono]

( she merits a pause. of course, most things do, lately, and gervais is a man given to pausing in general - but he can do that in motion, coming around the table where he's been sorting herbs to usher her in and to one of the low cots where she can sit and let him get a better look at what he's dealing with besides a great deal of blood on the wrong side of her skin. )

C-c-c-c-oherent, ( he observes, ) a, ah, a, a good sign.

Where?

( the reason for his sparseness with words is probably not hard to figure out, just from that. besides, he's examining her with magic already - he wants her talking so he can track her pain levels and her consciousness, not because he direly needs her to answer his questions. )

[intruthandlove]

[ That is a surprisingly complicated question. ]

There was a bear in the Hinterlands that caught me off guard. Then... [ She pauses. ] Bandits found us on the way back. There might have been demons, I was a little delirious at one point.

[ She sounds apologetic about that. The pain is starting to make things blur together, wearing on even Diana's high tolerance. The presence of demons was debatable, but the injuries on Diana are both several days old, oozing blood from having bandages torn away, and relatively new ones on top of the dried blood. Almost all were surface flesh wounds. ]

[dissono]

( gervais doesn't actually look up from what he's doing - his hands are gentle, finding her wounds both with traditional examination and the more magical kind, removing bandages carefully, assessing the mess she's made of herself. or a bear has made of her--

but she might catch the wry amusement that tilts the corner of his mouth. where on your body, diana. oh, well; she's talking, that's the important part, letting him gauge her alertness and cognition. he's already found what he asked for, he's not going to waste the time it takes him to get through a sentence on correcting her. )

N-n-no, ah, no, no, no cauterized, cauterized wounds.

( rage demons are hard to fucking miss. he rises, then; this will all need cleaning so he can see what he's dealing with. )

[intruthandlove]

[ it is entirely possible she is still slightly delirious. Pain isn't a new thing, but exhaustion is still a bit novel. She does catch the slight smile, which she takes as a good sign and returns with one of her own. Grim doctors can be ominous. ]

A good thing, I should hope. [ burns are awful, even when one is more durable than average. ].

[dissono]

I, I, ah. I would, ah, say.

( he returns with a large bowl of cool water, some form of herbal paste stirred through gently, and a clean wash-cloth. his may I gesture is a habitual courtesy - he doesn't really expect her to refuse to let him do it, now she's come for his aid, but he's also conscious of the difference a small kindness can make to an experience. a moment of consideration for someone's comfort. not every woman is going to be thrilled to have to be undressed and attended by a man, particularly not a man of his broadness, his not insignificant height.

most things he does seem designed to soften that; to make himself take up less space, to be less threatening. a lifetime of affable patience covering all else; of not drawing attention and therefore ire. the threat is not his masculinity but his magic - his curiosity and his competence. still, he is a healer who's worked over the years mostly with women in various states of vulnerability; he gentles himself there in a way that's slightly different in tone to the way he avoids angering those who've held his life in their hands so many years.

intended kindness, and not a mask of it over anger that has always been irrelevant. )