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New Year...

...Same Old 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, the first days of the new year find 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.

STILL WITH ADDED SNOW.

1. SHOULD OLD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT

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 still snowy.

2. WE TWO HAVE RUN ABOUT THE SLOPES

Farmers have been forced to abandon their homes after a series of vicious attacks by wolves. Packs of them are roaming the foothills and stalking paddocks and even roads seemingly without the usual wariness of humans. Inquisition agents and local volunteers guard travelers through the affected region, hunt the wolves through snowy woods, and track them back to their cavernous lair in the edge of a canyon. Only eliminating the demons that lurk there will free the wolves from their influence and allow the area to return to normal.

3. AND PICKED THE DAISIES FINE

Winter snows freeze and bury the ground, but the need for healing herbs is as great as ever. Stockpiles are thin after the chaos of the last year, and Corporal Vale is desperate enough to send people out to search caves and hollows and cliffsides and beneath overhangs for any plants still clinging to life. The weather is brutal, the search tedious, the footing often treacherous, but that last patch of Crystal Grace could be a key find. Getting it requires clambering up a slippery hillside and stretching up to a ledge and hoping whatever creature lives in that foxhole beside the plant isn't at home, but it's worth it, right?

4. WE TWO HAVE PADDLED IN THE STREAM

With many roads through the hills and ravines blocked by deep snow, some crazy, desperate few have begun traveling by river. The ice is thick and jagged along the shores but in the center the water rushes, just deep enough for a shallow draft boat lightly laden. Supplies are carried down from the passes toward Redcliffe this way, a white-knuckle process that you, for some reason, have become involved in. Maybe you were hired to help fend off the bandits that haunt the calm shallows and try to demand tolls for passage, maybe you're paying your way downstream by helping port both boat and cargo around the steep falls, the mist so thick and cold it coats whatever it touches in a thin sheen of ice. Maybe riding a glorified canoe through rocky rapids and narrow gorges just sounded like a good time. Don't rock the boat!

5. WE'LL TAKE A CUP OF KINDNESS YET

It is still snowing, and the tavern in Redcliffe is still the closest and warmest place to duck into to wait it out, and not only is it packed to the gills but it seems that the First Day celebrations have continued within long past the dawn of the second day. 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 Fereldans they can't bring their dogs inside, every few minutes the group in the corner breaks into a traditional First Day song that will be stuck in your head for weeks, 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.

6. 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.

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Absolutely not,

( a bit more serenely, now that she isn't holding his sword and feels a touch more on familiar ground. he is well enough to sass her while she tends him; this is a good sign, means she doesn't have to feel badly about scolding him while she does it.

binding the wound with the poultice is quick, brisk work. her hands aren't gentle, but she doesn't jostle him unnecessarily - when satisfied, she hands him a water skin herself and gives him the second cloak. )

[Anything in her app or that's happened in Fade Rift is fair game.]

They're on their way back to the Gull & Lantern after a long stretch of fighting rift-mad creatures, bandits and Ventaori. Despite any healing, Korrin's body aches with weariness and she's looking forward to not moving for a while. But Celinie holding her head has her pausing in concern as she holds out a steadying hand.

"Hey, we're not that far. Can you make it?"

Pleasantly mellow thanks to having her own considerable share of ale, Korrin is slouching in her seat, feet propped up against that corner table. She'd sung along as well (thankfully in-tune), though doing so has made her thirsty and she signals for a refill. Glancing over to the unfamiliar but sociable woman, the Vashoth mage nods as she flashes a grin.

"That's Ferelden for you. Not big on elegance, but it has its charms. And it definitely is; after all the crap this past year has thrown at us, we've earned this First Day, that's for damn sure."

1. Bears. Of course it was bears.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!"

See, this is what he got for thinking he could find drier firewood for his little portable camp up the hillside. This is what he got for thinking, Hey, I don't need bodyguards or that nonsense -- I'm gonna join the Inquisition and I don't want them to think I'm a pussywillow. Arrogance, Stark. Arrogance will get you every damned time.

Especially now that he is trying to outrun a goddamned bear. His hands are at his belt while he's running, throwing together an explosive trap as fast as he can as he stumbles on down a snow drift and into an open area. He finishes, tosses it behind him, and BOOM, the explosion rocks the small canyon he is, sending up a large flare of smoke and fire. He skids to a halt, looking behind him, hoping to see just bit of bear.

... and he does. Just, you know, bits of the fur missing from the even angrier bear.

"Maker's Balls." Tony mutters, as he prepares to take off running again, with another explosion already in hand.

4. It's TONY. Wildcard is his life.

Go with the scouts, they said. Find anything new, they said. Mind the bears, they said. Of the three things she's faced with, Adelaide had only been warned for the one- the other two scouts too busy poking around the camp they'd found on the hill, Adelaide had been told to check the surrounding area.

Where she found a bomb, (unexpected) a bear (quite expected) and an idiot (not expected, but not remarkable). The beast is singed and roars and makes to swipe as bears often do- without a thought and without so much as a word of warning to the idiot- they'd be running away from the bear, no danger here, she snaps out her staff to raise a wall of ice and buy both her and the fool a little more time. "Run!"

As though he needed to be told twice, even fools know to run, but this fool seems a little more foolish for all he's a rogue with bombs on his belt.

Now that was ... a strangely familiar voice, and he isn't quite sure why but he'll think on it more when he's not running for his damned life. He does yell out in turn, charging up the hill to where the mage was. "WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M DOING, DANCING THE REMIGOLD WITH IT?!"

Had to be a mage - that was a damned ice wall. Good one too, if he was any judge.

Nevermind, time to charge up the hill. "Come on, come on, start running yourself!"

Backtalk. What is it with Rogues and backtalk? Every last one of them in the field- so long with the scouts she has been surrounded by it and this? This may be the drop that overfills the vase. She'd spare him a bit of her mind if the bear wasn't scraping at the ice and they? needed to leave.

Quickly.

She sprints after them, casting another wall backward to cover their escape, muttering under her breath. "I do not need to outrun the bear, I merely need to outrun you."

What was it with mages and superiority complexes, would be Tony's acidic reply. Sheesh, have the ability to throw a fireball and suddenly you were the greatest thing since the wheel.

The wheel was clearly better.

In either case, he was already charging up over the hill, back towards his camp. Pleasantly surprised that his hood was staying in place. At her tart muttering - come on, he wasn't deaf, he glanced over his shoulder at her and answered dryly, "I never knew a mage that could run more than a country half-mile without dropping from exhaustion, so I'd be nicer to me. I'll probably end up carrying you."

More backtalk and she, honestly, has had enough of running. Adelaide reaches out to grasp the rogue's shoulder even as the spell of haste winds in golden strands around her fist and staff. For a moment all seems still around them as the circuit completes it's almost fractal pattern around them in glowing lines. "Count to thirty-"

Her voice is muffled, as though spoken through a wall for all that she's standing next to him as they run- behind the Bear seems to have been slowed and the drifts of snow from the sky hover in the air, unmoving- or rather moving a fair deal slower than they ought.

He lets her, because come on, he'll give lip but he's a smart fellow. A mage stops you and starts chanting? Best to do so. So he counts to thirty, silently, half turning so he can keep an eye out on the bear.

Then the whole world seems to slow, while they're running, and it's clear he's impressed when he says, "You know, you gotta give it to you mages. You know a parcel of neat tricks. Come on, my camp's not far."

Where he can set up more effective traps to keep the wildlife at bay. He takes off running, watching the world move so slowly around them it's like he's a blur.

They are but a blur to the scouts yet in the camp setting up a fire and some manner of dinner; most likely. The priorities of heat and food often overtake 'a bear is coming to maul us'. Especially if they haven't been informed of said bear.

Adelaide keeps pace as best she can, cresting the hill an stumbling to a stop on the count of fifteen. Sixteen and the bear is at the base of the hill, the rogue nowhre to be seen. Seventeen and she's gathering her power for a sharp crack of ice- coiling through the snow and building a high, wide wall between them and the bear.

Eighteen through twenty five are spent reinforcing the wall and dissuading the bear.

Tony comes running into his camp in a blur, before he swings around the others. He gives them a dry look - seriously? - before he sputters out fast enough that it sounds almost blurred together, "Ifyouaregoingtodrinkmybestwineyou'dbesthelpmekillthisbearfirst!"

Then he's off and running back to the mage, and he is tossing out a handful of elemental mines to top off what she's already thrown at the bear, hoping to either scare the damned thing off or kill it.

"They don't know about the bear-" Three, two, one and time catches back up to them; the sudden stinging rasp of cold wind almost a shock. It's been some time since she's delved into that spell on herself.

The bear stumbles through the snow and around the walls- tripping into the first mine. By the third it seems more than ready to turn about and resume whatever it had been up to before. Much as she doesn't understand them, such contraptions do have a valuable purpose. "...I suppose that will be adequate."

[There's really not many reasons why Bruce travels out of Skyhold. His duties usually keep him there, and there are many reasons why Bruce would rather within the walls of the fortress than risk himself outside to danger. For others' sake rather than his own.

Right now though he is currently out of Skyhold, mostly due to the fact that he does need herbs to replenish his supplies and the garden hadn't quite recovered yet from the damage that the abomination had done to it.

With nothing more than a tattered cloak over his shoulders, Bruce attempts to work with the snow, trying to shift piles of snow away with his bare hands as he searches the ground for herbs that he can pick. It's probably not going to be a lot but something is still better than nothing.]

Tony grins as the bear decides that the loss of fur is more important than the loss of life, but declines to mock said bear. Why get himself in deeper with the wildlife than he already is?

Then he turns to the mage, pushing his hood back, "Careful, sister, I might think that's a compliment or something ... "

He trails off, staring at the woman in front of him, because he's got to be high on adrenaline or something. "I - Addy?"

"You know Andraste's old mabari.
He don't show up in the chant.
And if you ask those holy sisters,
Well, they'll say Andraste can't
Have had some big old smelly wardog.
But all Ferelden knows it right:
Our sweet Lady needed someone
Who would warm her feet at night.

And there's Andraste's mabari
By the Holy Prophet's side.
In the fight against Tevinter,
That dog would never hide.
They say the Maker sent him special,
Always loyal, without pride,
So he could be the sworn companion
Of the Maker's Holy Bride.

Oh, that dog, he guards Andraste
Without arrogance or fear,
Only asking of his mistress
Just a scratch behind the ears.
But then old Maf'rath gets to plotting,
Tries to lure that dog away.
But even as they trap the Prophet,
Her mabari never strays.

[Is the song that is coming up over the snowy rise, as some sort of ... amazing wagon comes up the snowy path. There's a hooded man singing from the driver's seat, driving of course with one hand and the other on a bottle of something that has to be liquor or he wouldn't be singing so loudly and in such a base tone.

A singing that stops when the driver spots the crouching man in the snow, and a male voice calls out, accented heavily.] Ho there, friend! You sick? Or are you a clever bandit?

[Her heart thumped as she stood there, sticking out like a sore thumb. The armor she'd taken from Kitezh was similar, iron and fur, and detailing didn't belong. The ancient Greek meaningless against the shining pieces she saw here.

Some of them - most of them, she noted - looked human, unlike the man (the angry spirit of an undead queen, sure; an immortal prophet, fine; undying, soulless warriors, okay, but elves and... minotaurs?) from the village gate. But none of them were glowing. Insult to injury, the only money she had were the few Byzantine coins still lingering in her hip pouch. And something told her, they might not be worth as much here.

So she had no choice but to stand, just inside the tavern, attracting curious gazes, whispers her ears could just barely pick up - Inquisition, Herald... rift?

With a breath, her mouth setting, she prepared herself to move, to start asking, when the small gesture off to her side caught her attention.

She hesitated, just a moment, dark eyes moving over the woman's face, then approached.]

...Thank you. [She took the chair, shifting down into the seat.] I'm - afraid I'm a little lost. I'm supposed to meet someone here.

[Equal parts truth and lie, hopeful, but cautious.]

1. There be bears! And snow!

[Snow falling from the sky. Snow almost up to his knees, making movement hard. And there's a bear come rushing out of the trees. It's not the first time Ceodore's gone and gotten himself into an impossible fight while all alone, and isn't likely to be the last in his lifetime either. But being a sensible 15-year old, he does what any overeager knightling would do: try to fight the bear alone.

Is he practically tripping over his own feet between the snow and his own naturally clumsiness? Well yeah. A bit. Ceodore's not entirely useless with a blade, but Protect and Blink will only go so far to stop him from being bear chow. He might need some adult intervention.]

2. Picking Daisies? Or pushing them?

[Poking around for plants isn't exactly the most glamorous, or even most suited, of tasks. However, Ceodore is so eager to please, he'll agree to just about anything if it gives him a chance to prove himself on his own merit.

So once someone spots a patch of Crystal Grace high up a cliff, just barely clinging to rock and dirt under an earthen overhand, the princeling sprints off to grab it for them. He's climbed a sheer cliff while escaping Mist into Damcyan. How hard could one rock climb be? In plate armor. With ice and snow. His foot slips on one loose rock on the way up and he just barely manages to grab hold of another rock to break an eminent fall.]

3. We don't serve kiddie drinks.

[The bartender might be offering drinks at half price, but that's not gonna help Ceodore out much. One look says while the kid's probably seen action, and possibly too much for so young a teenager, he's still too young for booze. There's a quiet snark about not serving milk before the man goes about his business. For his part, Ceodore shrugs and turns to find some warm spot in the room. He's used to the kid treatment by now. At least it didn't come with a heaping helping of praise for his parents this time.

All the dogs are great though! He'll be trying to coax one or more over for a petting, not realizing they could well take his hand off.]

4. Wildcard

Edited 2016-01-03 21:09 (UTC)

It is no trouble. I am sure my friend is comfortable enough on the floor. ( 'Her friend' being the lute that she tips her head towards, tone balancing on an edge between jest and seriousness.

So many things to note; the strange armour, detailing symbols that she has no recognition of, the accent (which by rights could indicate Rivain or Tevinter or any manner of things, if Rifters had not taught her that accents mean little when compared to the framework of their own world), and for a brief moment Leliana finds herself remembering her first visit to Ferelden and Marjolaine's betrayal, events she had not considered for so long a time. This young woman carries an echo of that in her, she suspects, though doubtless the journey and the tale are entirely different. A fighter's spirit is the thing that makes her suspect that more than anything else, but the rest? Really that is Leliana's conjecture, the habit of analysing and assessing, as she drifted through crowds, hidden until the moment when she revealed herself.

The spymaster smiles, inclining her head in a slight bow, as her hand indicates the rest of the room. ) There are a great many 'someones' here. Those you seek could well be here, already.

( Sinking back into her seat, Leliana fills her guest's cup, and refills her own, although she does not drink immediately. It is interesting to observe the customs of those from other places, was it not? ) Though from the mark on your hand, I have an idea of what it is you might want, even if the personage is more... up to speculation.

[Upon hearing the bartender, Korrin naturally disagrees. Anyone who's seen combat action deserves a damned drink, though her view might be colored by the fact that she's not met with a wildly warm reception either. Quietly ordering an ale and a 'refill', she makes her way over to the corner with the kid -whose hair reminds her of Kas- and quietly plops down an ale beside him. Oops, how did that get there?]

[She glanced to the side, toward the instrument - not terribly common, but not unheard of, so there was that, at least. One of the few things out of so many that she could place. No second guessing there.

Turning back, she watched the woman pour, head lowering slightly to try and smell the liquid as it flowed. Wine. Helpfully familiar, even if she didn't often enjoy herself.

Her mouth twitched slightly, until Leliana went on and her eyes snapped up again.]

I was told to find the Inquisition. [No sense in playing coy now.] That they would have answers. For my hand, how it got that way, where... I even am?

Edited 2016-01-03 21:20 (UTC)

It was a witty thing, the sister. Calm and controlled on the outside but fire and arrows outside. Even now, when it looked sweet and smiling to a huge lump of walking rock who had scared most of the tavern empty. The golem casts away the comment about noise with a shrug.

"If The Sister's eyes are stinging, it should not sit by the fire," Shale mutters slightly and then reaches up a rocky fist to gesture to Leliana's shawl and the pin that held it. "I have been looking for this 'Inquisition'."

"Why are you fleshy creatures so obsessed with the lumps of your gods? It's just more flesh. Little pieces, easily crushed." A rough voice says as Shale wanders into view from the nearby foliage, covered in feathers and bird blood.

Don't ask. The evil pests looked at them funny, okay?

Wiping some off their carved arms and polishing a piece of green crystal embedded there, Shale then eyes Korrin again. "Does it swear by other non-holy people's disgusting genitals as well?"

Shale is already regretting even opening their mouth, because the man was saying so much but telling so little. They had already started a count of all the profanity (he was getting up there with Ohgren), and was now mostly interested to see if he could say anything that actually made sense.

"I have heard many squishy things like it speak in many ways, but this is new." New was good, at least. It might be why Shale was still bothering, to be honest.

"This is the Hinterlands. No mouth or Boston. It is not far to a village, but it will probably lose a toe or two first." Another huge shrug from the golem. "Maybe three."

( Good. One could never know when Corypheus or any of his agents might start trying to seek out the Rifters - better that they are guided to the Inquisition, and yet-- she has her dread and her doubts. Are there any that do not make it to the Inquisition? Who wander Thedas, lost? Are there those who are drawn to the side of death and decay?

Perhaps her smile gives away too much. Perhaps she wants it to be so. )

The Inquisition are not all knowing, ( she cautions, no eager to stoke false hope, ) But I work to bring us as close to that end as is possible, short of some blessed gift.

( Well, if the woman was to be forthright, why not she as well? There are places for knives and shadows, and this does not have that same feeling. ) The last is the easiest to answer, but there are tales within tales for it, as well. Which of those do you wish answered first?

( And, a moment. ) Forgive me, I am Leliana.

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Test Drive Meme!

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3.

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And now ... revamped

1 why bears tho

1 because that is what the inquisition is based on. bears.

bears and pain and explosions

Re: bears and pain and explosions

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how does i word

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Ceodore Harvey | Final Fantasy IV: The After Years

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3.

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slow as roooock here

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ahhh i love your lara