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

Lukas Fremantle ¬ native OC: Tevinter Mage

[halfbetter]

I. Floods

There is, Lukas has concluded, some unwritten law which dictates that Tevinter citizens travelling South must never be warm or dry. No doubt the good Maker's message telling them to go home. Wouldn't such an option be delightful? But the possibility of home is as remote as that of dry socks, and here he is trudging through ankle-deep mud, struggling to - by the old gods, this is embarrassing - wrestle out of his water-logged outer robes before he catches his death. The current had slammed into him and swept him what feels like miles off the trail, left him gaping like a fish in a shallow puddle, he can't even see his staff anywhere around the dank, muddy landscape. Just the debris that's been swept around with him. Sticks and stones and the occasional animal corpse, and the smell of wet dog, somehow. So Ferelden in a nutshell.

His day is not complete, though, until he stumbles over a sharp rock embedded in the muck and falls flat on his face, sending a massive splash up from the weight of his soaked clothes. Lukas is normally a man of magisterial class and grace, but these are exactly the kind of circumstances in which he reverts to his crasser roots.

"Fasta vass! Fuck this entire benighted country!"


IV. Crystals

[A weary, Tevene-accented voice comes through the crystal to ask a very important question:]

I don't mean to question the wisdom of the natives, but is there a reason why I should sit up this tree until the bear has gotten bored and gone away? It's only a bear. I can shoot lightning, you know. Lightning does kill Southern bears, doesn't it? Look, robes aren't made for sitting on branches...


V. Misc

"One more round. You know I'm good for it."

Some men in exile drink to forget. Some drink to dim the pain of separation. But Lukas Fremantle, in exile, drinks to celebrate. Another day survived in the Ferelden ass-end of the world. Who'd have thought that a bear would be an opponent worth drinking to? But any excuse will do, when you are cheerful though in need of warming up, and rich, let's not forget rich. He is good for another round. The barkeep nods appreciatively at the coins he sends clattering to the table. The other patrons cheer and swing their mugs up and drink to the best 'Vint they've ever known. Lukas smiles in half-drunken indulgence. He likes this atmosphere. It has a rustic charm. And essentially these are good people. He'll drink with whatever company he can get.

"I don't know what this is made of, but it does the job," he happily tells the patron closest to him. "Here's to adaptability. I'm doing terrific, if I may so so myself."

v

[alankazam]

"Grain,"

Alan offers as he leans in, tipping his head to regard Lukas. It might be conspiratorial, if it weren't otherwise utterly flat of affect. What's this made of? Well,

"Is terrific the same as adaptable?" Unblinking, he fiddles at his own mug — remembers, after a moment, to offer a faint, cockeyed smile. "What were you doing, before you adapted?"

[halfbetter]

"Suffering," Lukas answers emphatically. He squints a little at the young man, because Alan does smell of wet dog and Lukas has the unerring instinct to burn anything that does, he has already decides that he enjoys any company today, so he focuses on smelling the grain alcohol.

"Though I adapted quickly. I'm very good. And isn't that fortunate. The dreadful food, the dreadfuler weather, the bears - " he says that last word with an emphasis that comes from the very bottom of his belly. "Worse than Circle politics, these bears. Considerably less partying."

[alankazam]

"They just don't like strangers," He explains, as though they like the locals literally any better. "The bears — though I suppose parties, too."

Hilarious. He's on a roll today.

"Better food at those. In Orlais they had these little eggs stuffed with. I don't know actually, but are you eating that — ?"

Alan reaches over Lukas to drag back the little bowl of chestnuts the bartender's set out (a startling display of generosity, but oh, how the wealthy and cultured inspire).

[halfbetter]

Lukas holds up a finger of mildly drunken wisdom. "Oh no, my friend, a party loves a sufficiently dashing stranger. Of course I cannot expect anyone in Ferelden to know that, considering that you would not know dashing if it charged you like an angry bear, but - "

He trails off in mild confusion as Alan goes for the chestnuts without waiting for his response. But perhaps his magnanimity is expected not to end with the beer. That's acceptable. He nods encouragement.

"Go on. I'm sure it's no Orlesian quality, but - where did you happen to eat party food in Orlais?" No offence to Alan, but he does not exactly look the type to enjoy an Orlesian party. Or be let in.

[alankazam]

"The Winter Palace,"

Alan replies, with an effortless sophistication and charm — or, ah, how he might were he not a backwater bumpkin presently trying to peel off several chestnut shells with his teeth. It really comes out more of a thug whugher pahlagh.

Whatever that is may not be particularly Orlesian, but it at least sounds rather more plausible.

(The trick of getting into Orlesian parties is to be difficult to find when they come to throw you out.)

"There was a ball —" He neatly aspirates half a shell and turns to cough. Another moment before: "— Everyone went. You didn't go?"

Lukas seems fancy enough. There were plenty of fancy people there. Quod erat demonstradum.

[halfbetter]

Of course, what's more normal than a dogland hick and all his friends - who are probably bears - partying it up at the Winter Palace? But Lukas reminds himself that this is the Inquisition, an organisation whose politics disturbingly resemble a battering ram, and if he were Orlesian he might be offended. But he's Tevine, so he admires it, rather. Alas, not from a safe distance.

"Here, you can break those with - " he stops halfway through raising his hands, thinking suddenly that if he started to try and teach the locals some manners he would never be done. He lays both hands deliberately back down on the table. "No, you have me at a disadvantage. I've never been to the Winter Palace. It is not in the habit of extending invitations to Tevinter Circle Mages."

Or to Fereldan anyones, but... sign of the times, no doubt.

Floods

[skyandstone]

Jannik is in the same boat, and oh, if only it were a literal boat. Equally predisposed to loathe anything that makes travel difficult and that didn't exist in Orzammar, he's hardly going to begrudge this poor Tevinter bastard some foul language.

"And the dog it rode in on," he agrees, looking up from the sodden patch of spindleweed he's gathering and searching for the source of the voice. It's a bit difficult. Lukas has come to blend in with the omnipresent mud. His staff, however, is just visible in the weeds along the riverback, and Jannik picks it up to hand it over. "This yours, salroka?"

[halfbetter]

He hadn't truly been hoping for a response, Lukas reflects - probably hoping there wouldn't be one, as it means another person is witnessing him in such a decidedly unflattering states. He sighs as he shoves himself up out of the mud, with a noise much like a cork being forced out of a bottle.

"You'd think they'd have kept the Orlesians around at least. The Orlesians know their infrastructure - oh, thank you." His eyes light up at the sight of his staff, and he reaches for it at once, gracelessly possessive. "I was bracing myself to find it broken. How would you feel about some magical warming up?"

He'd use some on himself, for sure, but he knows dwarves have mixed opinions on magic.

iv.

[elegiaque]

The natives are not thinking ahead.

( this voice is orlesian. )

I feel certain you can find a buyer for the pelt if you don't burn it too badly with the lightning.

[halfbetter]

[Ah, the sound of civilization.]

I've never had to consider cosmetics in my lightning casting before. Is this a common hunting method in these... untamed parts?

[elegiaque]

I don't know that anyone's tried it from a tree--

( proper civilization, with titles and literacy and everything, judging by the shape of her vowels. )

--perhaps you'll set off a new craze in the bear-murdering business.

[halfbetter]

[Is it murder if the bears started it? Lukas sounds... disconcerted.] I assure you I have no personal enmity for the wildlife, my lady. It's only that I was told in no uncertain terms that they all do have some for me. And I am vastly outnumbered, here.

[elegiaque]

I take it rather personally when things try to kill me, for my part.

( it's happened a few times now and she really doesn't like it. petition to fuck all this noise. )

You should definitely do away with the bear, that's all. One of the mercenaries late of here gifted me a rather cleverly made bear blanket. It does give my maid a turn when the eyes catch candlelight, but I've grown used to it.

[halfbetter]

Only if they mean it personally.

[He's done Tevinter Circle politics. Everyone is trying to kill you just as a matter of course. To take it all personally invites indigestion.]

I don't think I'd be able to sleep with candle-lit bear eyes staring at me from my own floor. Especially if it had reason to want revenge.

[elegiaque]

( it's not wise in orlais, either, even if orlais is a kitten cafe compared to the magisterium, but - well, gwenaëlle isn't built for that level of intrigue when she rather likes a gordian knot solution.

breezily: )

I keep it on my bed, it looks out.

[halfbetter]

[He gives a rumbling, honest chuckle.] You've defeated it in honourable combat, and it has now rendered its allegiance to your superior strength?

[elegiaque]

( she gives this some thought.

the pelt came to her on the back of two dwarves stacked like trouble-making children, who collapsed on her rug under the force of not knowing what to do when she politely let them in rather than shrieking like a banshee at being presented with some sort of deformed bear monster-- )

Yes,

( very decisively, the lazy satisfaction of cats the world over, )

that's precisely how it is.

[halfbetter]

[Well, colour him charmed. He always has been a cat person. And if this civilized-sounding young lady is in fact a fierce huntress of bears that are, apparently, just as civilized, he does not wish to get on her bad side.]

I hope the Inquisition knows to make appropriate use of your gifts, my lady. I'm sure they could use an army of wildlife in honourable service.

I

[intruthandlove]

At this point, Diana is just pleased to run across another person who is alive and more or less whole. It doesn't matter how many years she's done this, relief work is never not emotionally draining. The physically draining aspect is a new one.

"It is a bit hard to see it's charms at the moment," she says to the fallen man, kneeling to offer her hand (careful to offer the one that isn't spitting green light and working a dull, throbbing ache into her bones), "Can you stand?"

[halfbetter]

"It has charms?" Is what Lukas is trying to say, but it comes out as more of a generalized groan. He takes the kind woman's hand, though only marginally relies on it to get back up. He is very status-conscious at the moment. He coughs a little, but makes it to his feet, not quite as much the worse for wear as his appearance suggests.

"Thank you -" he turns to look at Diana, uncertain of the appropriate title, and the mark catches his eye. "Ah, a Rifter, is it? And here our side of the Fade gives you such a poor showing..."

[intruthandlove]

She laughs softly, though not unkindly, careful as she helps him to his feet. She steps back when he seems to have his feet under him, her smile turning a little self conscious as the hand with the green glow flexes slightly.

"That is what they seem to be calling me," Diana says with a nod, "I have had worse welcomes, but I could do without the rain." And then after a thought: "Or the bears. Which I never expected to say."

[halfbetter]

"Perhaps they all drowned," Lukas replies with both conviction and relish. Can bears swim? He ought to find a way to test the question.

He is briefly torn between casting about for his lost staff, and clearing the mud at least from his face and hair, as much as the latter is possible with nothing to wipe it with that isn't going to do more muddy harm than good. In the end looking for the staff wins out. He will magically scrub himself pristine, see if he doesn't. "It isn't like this everywhere. The Rift did pick Thedas's most wretched outreaches to manifest over. For which I suppose I'm grateful - not much of value to destroy around here."

IV

[justice_is_blond]

It's a bear. Maybe you should shoot lightning. Any natives telling you to sit there are likely messing with you.

[His Fereldan-accented voice is very amused.]

[halfbetter]

[Oh, it's a Fereldan. He is leery of taking more advice from your kind.]

Then again, it would be just like to natives to use my own prejudice to convince me the bear is harmless. A double cross, hm?