Test Drive Meme!

[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

Tybault Cyr | DA OC | Leader of the Orlesian Mercenary Band "Iris' Blades"

[draguer]

a mix of 1 + 2.

Anyone would be hard pressed to tell how cold it was by looking at Tybault. The man was the size of a bear himself, but was wearing no fur what-so-ever. In fact he'd even shed his cloak, to stop Whittle from trying to lecture him from below, and handed it over in lieu of blankets. It really wasn't his job, fetching things. His job was to kill things, or, generally, at least to guard things, but the Inquisition had brought and entirely new aspect to his work and he didn't actually mind that much. Besides, he liked the snow. So he trudged through it, his shirt open five buttons down just so some of that brisk winter air could cool him off, and made a deep trench just by walking for anyone who was following behind.

He was looking for caches, of course. That had been the plan. But when they stopped at a slight cliff - just high enough that it would cause you to stumble if you tried to run down it - Tybault caught sight of something Better.

"Bears!"

4.

Tybault, now in the warmth of the tavern, has given up on his shirt, and is sitting, grinning, with a dog trying to lick his face, and a large mug of ale off to the side. The only thing on his chest is a chain with a golden ring - far to small for his finger - bouncing gently against his sternum as he laughed.

"You smell like a toad's fart," He told the dog fondly as he rubbed both sides of its face at the same time, making the dog's ears flap wildly. "Yes you do! Yes you do!"

5.

Tybault's grip is strong, and with a grunt he hefts his companion back up onto solid ground, which a moment ago they had nearly fallen off from.

"Alright? I like pancakes, admittedly, but they don't tend to be made of people I like." His eyes crinkle with mirth as he speaks, his Orlesian accent making his baritone voice chocolaty.

5

[amygdalae]

"Ah--yes."

Bruce pauses after that, taking a moment to straighten himself the best he can. That had been--unexpected. But appreciated, of course. He could still feel his heart pounding from the near drop that had happened and he was lucky that nothing else happened from that.

He turns towards the other man and inclines his head, giving him a thankful smile. "Thank you, ser. I owe you for helping me out."

5

[adlaar]

"Just out of people you don't? I must stay on your good side." Irah's voice is breathless. She sounds Fereldan, but she really doesn't look it.

Despite her near-fall, she's grinning. The shock, and the sheer delight in cheating a very pointless death, has brought out a glow in her cheeks. She'd lost her footing near the cliff during a short and unpleasant scuffle with an apostate. It had been very undignified. She isn't particularly skilled in combat, only quite strong and entirely ruthless. Her attacker had gone over the cliff. Unwillingly.

Having got her breath back, she leans over the edge to where the fast-running river is darkened with blood. Heights don't frighten her. Nor does gore. She looks over at Tybault. "It was good of you to help a stranger," she says. She means it, but she phrases it like a question: very good of you, but what do you get out of it?