allthisshitisweird | TEST DRIVE MEME!

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She very nearly asks if the bear speaks Greek, but Diana has a feeling neither the bear nor the young woman would find it terribly funny. Time and place. She keeps her attention on the task at hand, continuing to back the both of them up slowly as the bear pauses and sways from side to side, growling and huffing.

"She has a cub with her," Diana says instead, nodding slightly to the bundle of brown that's lost interest in the confrontation and has started to tumble away. Hopefully, mother will soon follow. "There's no need for a fight, she's only concerned for her cub."

They should be fine, she thinks. The Hinterland bears are outlandishly aggressive, but it seems safe to assume that mother bears are the same everywhere. The bear begins to turn to follow her cub. Which, naturally, is when an arrow almost buries itself in Diana's neck. The arrowhead clangs against the silver of her bracelets as everything in Diana shifts from flight to fight.

"Suffering Sappho, this place is mad," she mutters, looking back at the young woman to make sure she at least is still all right. Their still hidden but impending attackers are secondary to the following very important question: "How good are you with a sword?"

Ioane narrows her eyes. So they have to kill the cub too- oh. Oh, sure. Sure, they can back away or whatever. Sword lady wins again

And then they're under attack from other stupid shit, and Ioane swears in a very unladylike fashion before whirling in the direction of the arrow, tree branch still clutched angrily in her hands. She can't tell if she should be insulted (do I look like a mercenary to you?) or complimented (I look like a mercenary to you?) at the other woman's question, and then it doesn't matter. Another arrow whizzes on by, missing them both.

"Better with fists," Ioane grumbles, shoulders hunching. She won't back down from a fight with people, even if she's not really prepared for it. She's not about to let this woman know; she's clearly good with swords, and it makes Ioane feel a little dumb not to be.

...But she's beautiful, really beautiful, with bright skin and clear eyes. She's probably high born and well trained. And with a sword. Envy and admiration mingle in Ioane's heart. She won't let her down.

A girl after her own heart. There's a brief sense memory of Cassie, sharp eyed and impetuous, with entire worlds of possibilities just out of her reach. But- "We will improvise then," Diana tells her, unbuckling her scabbard and holding it out to the young woman, "Move back to the treeline, make it harder for the archers."

Another sound of something flying through the air, fainter than it ought to be. Diana plants herself squarely in front of the young woman as a grappling chain wraps itself around her raised forearm. She can see them now, bandits in dented, scavenged armor. The chain draws tight and Diana digs in her heels. In her proper state, she would be able to haul the blasted skirmisher over towards her. Here, she improvises. She lets the weight of the fighter pull her, haul her foreward. She sidesteps barely a moment in time to miss the kick that's aimed for her stomach, wrapping her hands around the armored calf and twisting up as she turns, hauling the man off his feet by force. Gravity helps her from there, smashing her fist down into the fighter's helmet, denting it further. She stands. The fighter does not.

And now she has a new sword.

TEST DRIVE MEME!

lmk if this is too ridic

not ridic ENOUGH

oh well then