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[faderifting]

'Tis The Season...

...To Still Be In 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.

Lately the Hinterlands have also been full of mages and templars and rifts, all threatening to turn once-peaceful countryside into a dangerous warzone. 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.

NOW WITH ADDED SNOW.

1. I CAN'T BEAR THE COLD

You have turned the wrong corner in the snow, forded the wrong stream in the snow, crested the wrong hill in the snow, entered the wrong cave in the snow. Maybe you are far from camp, in the snow. Maybe you are in camp, which is also snowy. Whatever has happened, wherever you are: you are being chased through the snow by bears. Did you throw a snowball at the bears? Are they huge and snow-dusted? Babies burrowing through the snow drifts and coming for your ankles? Fade-touched in addition to snow-touched? Controlled by cold mages who are hiding in the snow? Popping up out of the snow like a game of whack-a-mole? What are they chasing you away from in all of this snow? What are they chasing you into, other than more snow? What warm things do you plan to make out of their hide if you kill them in the snow? What do you think they'll craft out of your hide if they kill you in the snow? P.S. It's snowy.

2. GIVE ALL THE TOYS TO THE LITTLE RICH BOYS

Winter came. The villagers are freezing. Recruit Whittle totally saw this coming. Now he might have sent you haring (get it) across the countryside in search of supplies that apostates or bandits may have hidden in caves and crannies. He might have handed you some sticks and told you to build a fire. He might have eyed your nice coat with a contemptful gleam that suggested you'd better find some blankets if you didn't want to have your own clothing requisitioned. Nobody's freezing to death on his watch--except maybe you, if you're really bad at finding hidden caches. In the snow.

3. DON'T SHOOT ME SANTA

The sky is beginning to darken and white snow continues to fall, but you and the supply wagon you're protecting should make it to the little Hinterlands village before sunset. The wagon is laden with food, blankets, and other sundry supplies, and so it's important to stay sharp and alert as you make the trecherous journey. And for good reason: an arrow is fired from the tree line and topples an Inquisition soldier from his horse. Beset by bandits, will you manage to fight them back? Or do they overwhelm your troupe and you are forced to flee? Or, perhaps, you could attempt a negotiation, knowing they could be as hungry as the people you protect.

4. DOES THEDAS HAVE FIGGY PUDDING?

It is not only snowing, it's blizzarding, and the tavern in Redcliffe is the closest and warmest place to duck into to wait it out. Unfortunately, half of the Hinterlands had the same idea. The Gull & Lantern is so packed with thawing visitors that it's hard to walk from one side to the other, the owner has given up on telling these Fereldens they can't bring their dogs inside, and that lady in the corner is almost definitely someone you've tried to kill before, or vice versa. But there's a fire going, and the bartender seems to think that giving everyone half-price drinks might prevent a brawl instead of causing one, and there aren't any demons indoors, so it could be a lot worse.

5. WILDCARD

Hunt game in the snow, kill demons in the snow, dig under the snow for herbs, track bandits through the snow, deal with someone charging extortionist coat prices now that it's snowing, fall off a deceptively tall rock into the snow, 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 in the snow, climb trees or abandoned towers covered in snow, rummage around in empty homes to get out of the snow, run from a dragon in the snow, cry over how cute that fennec fox you just shot in the snow was, set up camp and chat around the fire because it's snowy and cold, knock yourself out (figuratively, or even literally if that's more your speed)-- the Hinterlands are your Frostback Mountain oyster, topped with snow.

Comments

Fahran | DA OC

[tranquilized]

1.

While the falling snow may block some of the sight, movement suggests someone is trudging through the snow not far away from the camp (or you, or the biting snow babies, who knows). With a hood up all the way to his nose and a sack on his back, it's only the size and shape that gives away that it is not the early arrival of a very beardless Santa, but instead a rather snow-drenched elf.

He's leaning to what is more a walking stick than a staff, as it has no focus, and the general body language is understandably rather exhausted. Another step has him misplacing his foot on an icy patch - he slips, and the sack drags him over to a quiet flop into the snow, complete with things escaping from the burlap. Roundish, rolling things. Cabbages?

Cabbages with... hair.

No. Those are heads.

4.

Even before the mage rebellion, the common people tended to stay far away from the tranquil and usually ignored them completely or sent them nervous looks that were only reflected by emotionless eyes and placid smiles.

However, in these rocky times, harsh treatment was becoming more widespread, anger directed at these Chantry-branded for having once been mages and thus part of the problem. Especially since they usually came corralled by actual mages, or bitter templars.

Soulless drones or puppets with no will of their own. No dreams, no desires.

No food, even though the man at the back table had coin in his hand. Bearing the sun on his forehead, the grey-haired elf was at least in his mid-fifties, his calm and unperturbed face jagged with scars that were softened with the contrast of a practical braid over his shoulder.

"I have more coin," he says, voice typically monotone but with a calculated softness in it - as if he's trying to soothe the waitress. "I will cease to function without this meal."

4.

[gatheringstorm]

To say that Korrin is unnerved by Tranquil is an understatement. As someone raised outside the Circle, she's never had to deal with them on a daily basis. She only knows them as a horrifying possible future, had the Circles not fallen and the Templars thought her worth capturing. The thought of her connection to the Fade being severed, losing the spark that makes her who she is...it's beyond her worst nightmares. So, no, she doesn't hang around Tranquil as a general rule.

But upon hearing the elf speak up in that monotone and realizing what's happening, the Vashoth mage frowns and stands up from her table, heading over. She doesn't hesitate to glare and loom over whoever's denying him food. However unsettling she might find Tranquil, they don't deserve to starve. And if she has to play the 'scary qunari' in order to ensure that, so be it.

"So, you're starving people now? For shame. Give him what he's willing to pay for." Not a request, and if they're smart, they'll pay attention to her tone.

[tranquilized]

The waitress balked at the appearance of a large qunari woman, and she quickly nodded before taking the offered coin and hurrying towards the kitchens to relay that order.

Not even the bulky cook would want to deal with angry oxmen (or women).

The elf watches the waitress leave and then eventually turns his grey eyes to Korrin. There was no reaction, just a simple nod that lacked in everything but tiredness - but social customs brought it further into a thank you.

"I appreciate your assistance," the older elf says with that dronelike voice, but he doesn't share the placid smile so common among the tranquil. Instead if remains emotionless - and thus more sincere.

[gatheringstorm]

"Being tall and horned has it advantages, sometimes." Korrin would make more of a joke of that, but she's not certain a Tranquil would get it. The lack of that placid smile is appreciated, as it tends to unnerve her.

"Are they giving you a hard time around here otherwise? Was that a common thing?" It occurs to her that she honestly has no idea, now that the magister who hates non-mages and tranquil isn't here any longer. Such an oversight is embarrassing and needs to be corrected.

[tranquilized]

Oh, he'd understand the joke. He just didn't feel the mirth - or the elation, and further gratitude when he was swiftly brought some stew from another waitress. Instead, he simply picks up his spoon.

"It is common," the mature elf starts between neatly timed bites of food. "people react differently before the branded. It is commonly only an inconvenience to be denied services." Not when he had traveled this far, though, with little sustenance.

"I prefer to remain functional." 'Prefer' was a strong word, but his research was valuable. It would be more logical to keep that asset.

[gatheringstorm]

"Don't we all." At least he's given some indication of what he wants, which is reassuring to Korrin. Emotionless or not, it's something. His news, however, has her frowning again.

"I've never been in a Circle, so I haven't seen your...kind up close. That's still no reason to deny you necessities. You're nothing like the disruptive assholes they rightfully keep out of this place."

[tranquilized]

Fahran gives her a polite nod at that, another spoonful of the stew taken without care of the taste before he replies. "It is not illogical. We Tranquil make others uncomfortable, and we're mostly unseen out of Circles or markets. While the link to the Mage Rebellion is flawed thinking, we are good targets to relieve tension without danger or the worry to cause anger or hurt."

It could probably have been bitterness if it wasn't delivered to plainly and without aggression or sadness. It just was, as the Tranquil just were.

The elf reaches to take a sip of water. "I am alone, and I am old. An even more logical target."

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin's lips form a thin line, her own temper simmering on his behalf. She crosses her arms, to resist the urge to punch the next person who treats him that badly. Who knows if that will be enough.

"Logical, but not right. Look, if you don't have anywhere else to go, come back to Skyhold with me. The Inquisition is about protecting people and that includes you. Besides, if you're looking for work, there's no shortage of it needed. Enchantments and the like could be really helpful."

[tranquilized]

Those steel-grey eyes watch her dispassionately as she offers her assistance and the protection of the Inquisition. Stew finished, the elf gently puts down the spoon and places it by his bowl. "I currently have no knowledge of Enchantments. I was only in a Circle for seven months before they performed the rite on me, and as the Circles were broken by the Mage Rebellion a few weeks after that, I was never given training."

The lull of his voice makes it sound so simple, sharing only the details that were needed and nothing more. Then, almost as an afterthought - "My recent research may be helpful to the Inquisition, however. Would that suffice as a trade for safety?"

[gatheringstorm]

For a moment, Korrin just stares in horror. This elf could have been spared Tranquility, by a matter of weeks? That's the worst case of timing she's ever heard, and just the thought of it has her needing a moment to regain composure. To suffer such a fate and have it be that it could have been avoided entirely had the Circles only fallen earlier....

"I don't see why it wouldn't. What research is that?"

[tranquilized]

There were few things anyone would have been grateful to be tranquil for - had it been possible to feel such things in the first place - but the knowledge of how closely you had failed to dodge the bullet would be it. Now it was simply a statistic to the grey-haired elf.

...and in the end, it meant he had been able to start his research.

"I study the oculara. There are quite a few over the Hinterlands... skulls set on a post with a crystal in one eyesocket."

[gatheringstorm]

"Ah, those. Creepy shit, but I've heard they can be useful." At least in spotting glowing pieces of...whatever. Korrin's never bothered to check that out, having other priorities in mind. "You're right, though, that would definitely get their interest. I've seen some outside the Hinterlands, too, so your research could be widespread.

[tranquilized]

"They are useful," he agrees with the slightest of nods. Logically, they were, no matter their origins. "They lead to shards of power that cannot be seen without these oculara. It would be an asset to the Inquisition." Or anyone else, really. Loyalty was a feeling he had lost early.

Convenience was all. Safety was preferable.

Reaching up, he traces the curve of his neck. It was a strange kind of magic, and he had seen its preparation more than once. If he had not lost the heads of the others in the snow, his research could have continued more easily.

As it was, he may chose to donate his own head to find these shards. It had been asked of him earlier, after all.

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin's horror would be neverending at such a thought, as do apparently a lot of things involving Tranquil. That's what happens when she's confronted with one of her greatest fears as a mage in person. But she tries to focus on him, not herself. He's the one in need.

"Do you know what those shards do, exactly?"