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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

Flavia Paradesai | Native OC, Antivan Minstrel

[taletelling]

2.

In this dire time, the Inquisition needs every pair of hands it can spare. Every able-bodied soul who can trudge long enough through the cold to fetch supplies. There is more to be done than singing and entertaining. So Flavia had allowed herself to be convinced.

Damn her generous heart, she thinks, bent over the would-be fire as she tries to make the wood catch. If only they had sent a mage. Braver souls that she are being slashed to ribbons for Andraste's name, and she will die for want of a little fire.

Her hands are aching, and there is still no reaction from the wood. "Ma feca!" she exclaims, allowing herself to fling it away in frustration.

4.

She has had her fill of singing for the evening, and even the warmth of the fire and the many bodies filling this place is not enough to dissuade her from a drink. The crowd, however, makes it difficult to get to the bar. Oh, she can see over most people well enough — she's quite tall for a lady — but that means little if she can't step around them.

"Pardon," she says, tapping the shoulder of the last person keeping her from the bar's edge. "But I have a parched throat to tend to."

4

[under_the_hood]

Damn the weather. And damn it again. It felt like some sort of conspiracy. Every time Ellen finally got her useless brother to promise to lay off the drink, he inevitably found some reason to slip right back into a tavern again. Of course, Ellen wasn't self-indulgent enough to actually believe that the gods were conspiring against her efforts with him. But she knew her brother well enough to know that this was as good an excuse as any to come back around.

Her cloak and the hem of her dress were drenched in frigid, melted snow. Loose strands of hair that had fallen out of her braid curled around her face. She looked like a disheveled wreck as she squeezed herself through the crowd, scowling more and more with each face who wasn't her brother.

Damn the weather.

And she nearly snarled as much out loud when a stranger tapped her shoulder. A lady with finer clothes than hers. Although that wasn't hard. Immediately, she lowered her eyes, shoulder hunching in subservience. "I haven't any coin to give." Although she wagered Will had lifted more than his share tonight.

[taletelling]

Flavia's eyebrows went up, at first, at the response — did she really look so much like a beggar? But something stopped her from voicing such a reaction aloud. Perhaps it was the way the other woman looked to the floor, as if she were truly sorry... or, at least, trying to appear so.

"Andraste bless your charitable soul," she said, with a smile, "but I have coin enough for myself. I only seek access to the bartender, and the crowd tonight is very — how do they say? — cozy." She fished a coin from her pocket, then leaned a little closer and to one side, aiming to squeeze around and claim her prize. As she waited for the bartender's attention...

"Forgive my second intrusion, but... you seem to be looking for someone."

[under_the_hood]

Ellen's dark eyes raised slightly. She was so accustomed to beggars that, somehow, she'd come to expect it. Perhaps it spoke to the times. Either way, she regretted the comment immediately.

Not that she was going to apologize for it. Ellen rarely apologized and only under duress.

Instead, to make amends, she stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle, immediately getting the attention of the harried barkeep. "You have a customer over here, Kemal," she said sharply. Kemal looked like he was on the cusp of chewing her out, but she hurried on. "A foreigner. Your reputation for having the most hospitable tavern in town is on the line."

It seemed to be argument enough for Kemal, who quickly set to work filling a flagon for the lady.

Ellen turned back to her, a bit of a smile hidden in the corners of her mouth. "He values his reputation. And yes, I am looking for someone. My good-for-nothing brother. I know he's here and I'd warn you to watch your pockets."

[taletelling]

Flavia nodded in gratitude as the barman began to pour.

"You will find many good-for-nothings here. As I suspect you know." That is, being so well acquainted with the bartender. She nodded toward the far wall, back in the direction from which she'd come. "I spent a fair amount of time this evening standing on that bench, back there. If you could describe your brother in more detail — I may have spotted him."

[under_the_hood]

"Imagine me, but as a boy," Ellen replied dryly.

She certainly imagined it often enough. In her rather rambunctious youth, she'd actually dreamed of cutting her hair and stealing some of Will's trousers. She'd never gotten so bold. Mostly because she hadn't really thought of anything beyond that. Just curious to see if she could, really.

"He fancies himself a romancer," she sighed. "I suspect that if you'd seen him, he would have seen you by now." Between her prettiness and her pockets, no doubt, she would have made a tempting target for Will.

But then again, there was a particular working girl he liked.

Her eyes turned up to the rooms above. If he was up there, she'd skin him alive.

[taletelling]

Flavia shrugged a shoulder at the description. That was fair enough. But she had spied no one so particularly striking during her performance... so when Ellen's gaze turned upward, hers did the same. She hummed thoughtfully.

"If he is up there, he should not be much longer... that is, unless his skills in romance are as good as he thinks." She leaned against the bar, nodded invitingly, reaching for a second coin. "Come. Join me for a drink. Enjoy the refuge from the cold while you can."

[under_the_hood]

When it came to Will, there were very few lines that Ellen was unwilling to cross. Walking in on him with his girl was one of them.

For better or for worse.

She sighed, offering the lady a wry smile. Everything was funny. As long as it was happening to someone else.

She knew that better than most.

"You're new to this area," she remarked, folding her hands in front of her in a submissive gesture. "What in the name of all things sacred are you doing in a place like this?"