TEST DRIVE MEME!

[faderifting]

What if there is no tomorrow?

Only more 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 AND NOW ALSO ADDED KINDNESS TO ANIMALS (MOSTLY).

1. IF I GET SCARED, YOU'RE ALWAYS AROUND

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. THEY SAY WE'RE YOUNG AND WE DON'T KNOW

The Inquisition has, possibly, been a little too good at dealing with the Hinterlands' bear problem, and a group of concerned citizens--including young burgeoning naturalists, farmers concerned about the effect an unchecked population of rams may have on their crops come spring, and at least one woman who claims to be directly descended from bears--has taken issue. Maybe they're blocking your character's attempt to enter a bear-infested area. Maybe they've doused your character in bear blood. Maybe the bears they have been working so hard to save have cornered them in the wilderness and they're changing their tunes.

3. WITH YOU I CAN'T GO WRONG

The Inquisition's (cough Leliana's) habit of communicating by raven works out fine, usually, but this particular raven has gone a little rogue. It's not the raven's fault! She's young, she's trying. But she has very important information tied to her leg, and instead of delivering it, she's joined a flock of identical wild ravens to hunt for food in the snow. Recover her, somehow, without hurting her and making any spymistresses angry.

4. BEFORE IT'S EARNED, OUR MONEY'S ALL BEEN SPENT

The tavern at Redcliffe remains as busy as ever, filled with locals, travelers, and Inquisition members. But this month in addition to the usual free-flowing ale and rowdy conversation there is also a contest going on. Bakers have come from across the Hinterlands bearing their very best in an effort to win a coveted ribbon and the title of Best Cake. They pack the tavern and spill out into the surrounding courtyard when the weather allows, cakes sold off tables, out of packs, small chunks given away to whoever is passing and not paying enough attention to refuse. The votes are carefully guarded by several serious looking fellows in the back corner of the tavern. In addition to traffic issues, the cake madness has also caused an infestation of large local rodents, who have appeared out of their holes to devour the many crumbs. Legend has it that if they can be humanely eradicated from the tavern before the final vote is cast, spring will come early. No one in living memory has succeeded, but you are strongly encouraged to try anyway.

5. AIN'T NO HILL OR MOUNTAIN WE CAN'T CLIMB

Hunt game so you can rescue it before other hunters get there, kill demons or maybe just try to hug it out?, dig under the snow for herbs or plant some of your own to replace what others have taken, track bandits through the snow and see if they need a hand, deal with someone charging extortionist coat prices now that it's snowing and convince them to do the right thing, fall off a deceptively tall rock into the snow and admit it was your own fault, 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 so that you can give it a decent burial, climb trees or abandoned towers covered in snow and be careful not to knock them down, rummage around in empty homes to get out of the snow but leave a nice apology note, run from a dragon in the snow and promise not to trespass on its territory again, definitely don't kill any fennec foxes, set up camp and chat around the fire about your feelings because it's snowy and cold, give yourself a pat on the back (figuratively, or even literally if that's more your speed)-- the Hinterlands are your playground.

Comments

[doneisdone]

"...I.... dig," Teren hesitantly replies, but is more than eager to extend her wrist for the bird to perch on. "...I will not be doing anything heinous, no. My thanks for your assistance." She does, however, grip its thin leg lightly between two of her fingers, just in case.

[doneisdone]

Teren didn't know these terms-- Killing Curse, Incendio-- and she watched the girl with narrowed eyes, still not showing alarm over the difference in language. She'd heard of these folk coming through the holes in the sky, though this was only her second encounter with one.

"No, child, a witch is another thing," she answered brusquely, "often a mage outside the Circle, a woman who practices primal magics. And I know not the term wizard, but what you've done here is the work of magi." She cast a glance around again, always listening. "The Templars are their keepers, holding them in towers and away from the common folk, for their protection and ours. Not that protection has much to do with it anymore, not these days."

[justice_is_blond]

He wishes some things hadn't changed, though he does appreciate the way mages can simply walk around and be freer than they had been. It's progress. If he hadn't needed to be possessed for it to happen, though, he'd be a happy man.

"Safe from you for now. Unless you've been so far away from humans you haven't heard all that's been happening. Speaking of causes." Anders nods the direction and starts walking toward the river, trusting that she'll follow. Getting clean is a powerful reason to follow someone.

"I'm going by Detlef now, incidentally. Since it may come up." There's no one in hearing range, thankfully. They have some freedom to chat.

[judgemewhole]

He could see that she was wanting to argue with him, or at least call him insane. He wished he could tell her that yes, he was just joking. That all of this would end soon enough and she could wake up and go home.

"... In short, yes. I apologize, my understanding of the magical logistics is just that, logistics. The rifts seem to be pulling people in from different areas, different times." He explained, as he started to lead the way back to the Inquisition camp.

He looked over at her, before smiling deeply. "You are quite welcome. You should start feeling better in a moment." A pause, then a sympathetic look. "I am James Norrington, Knight Commander, and ... I am afraid not."

[chainlightning]

What if she whips out a knife and uses her own blood for magic? Not that she's going to do that right now. Probably.

"Oh! Well, if you don't mind..." Plenty would probably warn her about the possibility of a trap, but Merrill isn't really the suspicious sort. Not without reason, at least, and so she finishes her way forward. "Ma serannas, Rifter." A pause. "Oh, though that's probably very rude! I'm sorry; my name is Merrill."

watch bruce be oblivious the whole way...

[amygdalae]

[MAYBE ITS TIME HE TOOK UP HEALTHIER LIFESTYLES.]

Be glad then that the Inquisition content themselves with their mounts.

[Never worry about having to herd any kind of cattle, Matthieu.]

the blind leading the blind am I right???

[avocats]

[ Once you grow up among demon-worshippers your chance at a healthy lifestyle kinda goes down the drain, man. ]

I'll be happy so long as I don't have to go near them longer than it takes to get to Skyhold. The smell of wet dog around here is bad enough.

[ FERELDEN IS KINDA GROSS I mean Matt's mostly kidding about the wet dog smell, it's just his job as an Orlesian to point it out. ]

[obi_wanmanshow]

The Galaxy is wide and full of stunning variation. Obi-Wan's not going to begrudge a few strange, esoteric, slightly alarming local customs-- provided he isn't going to be obligated to participate, of course.

"Not at all; I'm pleased to meet you, Merril. I am Obi-wan Kenobi," Obi-wan gestures to a convenient seat by the fire, and the roasting bird, indicating the lot with one simple wave, "I'm a poor host at the moment, but what I have, you're welcome to share. You're familiar with the concept of a-- Rifter?"

Strange world, strange place, strange vocabulary. He'll get used to it, eventually. Even if he doesn't necessarily want to.

"grr grr omnomnom"

[chainlightning]

[ No worse for wear, at least. She'd been still as the wolf had ripped the demon away, the two far too entangled to risk helping with much more magic beyond a barrier to strengthen the existing one. But she's off the ground when Ruby turns, staff at the ready. There are no more demons just yet, but that could change. ]

Ma serannas. We should move -- if there are demons here, there's something drawing them to this place, and they'll keep arriving. If we can find what it is, even if it's something we can't deal with, we can pass along the information.

"wuff wuff" /hackles raise!!!

[eviscerates]

( She can't speak as she is, but she bows her head, understanding. There is barely a moment of consideration - the young woman should be protected, and she can protect the Wolf in turn.

So she crouches down, now quite a bow. She isn't Snow White, and Red doesn't let just anyone climb on her back, but she is not in a rush to face any more of those demons. Moving is the best option, and she barks quietly, brightly. Get on.

Part of her is aware of the tales of taking rides from wolves and foxes and how badly that can go, but, you know. She's not planning on eating anyone. )

[bookish_lioness]

Hermione's quiet for a moment when Red mentions never having met a wolf that relished eating people. She could tell her stories about Fenrir Greyback,and how Hermione had watched as he bit into a young girl with manic glee during the Battle of Hogwarts, but she doesn't exactly enjoy discussing Greyback. He'd been the sole reason Hermione doesn't automatically assume that all werewolves are tragic heroes like Remus anymore.

She does get confused when Red doesn't seem to know what Animagi are, though, and Hermione's wondering more and more if she's somehow walked into a very different magical community from any of the ones she's used to. Especially when she gets praise for something as simple as a Freezing Charm.

"Thank you," she says first, since propriety always wins out. "But it's basic magic. I think I learned it my second or third year at school."

After a moment's hesitation, she explains, "Animagi are wizards and witches who've learned to turn themselves into a specific animal. A dog or a rat, for instance. If someone willingly learned how to become a wolf, they'd still have complete control of themselves while transformed."

Unsure of how much more she'd say might need explanation, she asks, "You're not a witch, then, are you? Do you at least know someone who could make you a Wolfsbane potion?"

[bookish_lioness]

Though she frowned as she followed after him, Hermione didn't seem as though she was necessarily frowning at him. After all, unless something came to light, it wasn't as though any of this was his fault.

"That should be impossible," she murmured. "Time magic is rare and difficult enough; plucking people out of their place and time and setting them down here... did someone break time?" If this had anything to do with the way she'd abused her Time-Turner five years ago....

She didn't that she'd stopped bleeding, or that the stinging had faded away to a mild tingling and itch as it all healed up. Absently scratching at her ear, she looked up at him and tried to return his smile, even if it was understandable preoccupied at the moment. "It's nice to meet you, sir. For what it's worth, I'll even accept a long and drawn-out way to get sent out, so long as it isn't too long. I have an exam tomorrow, and I wouldn't want to miss both the exam and the make-up period."

She was joking, of course. Mostly. At least she'd gotten better about putting her well-being before her grades over the past few years.

[bookish_lioness]

"So there aren't many humans around here, is what you mean?" Hermione would almost prefer stumbling into a camp filled with people who looked more or less like Bull; if he were the only one like himself in the immediate vicinity, it would get frightfully easy to stare. She wouldn't want to be rude or have him get the wrong idea.

She's about to ask him a question when something he says jumps out at her. "You mean... these aren't what you would consider the wilds?" Looking around and making sure that no, there are no cars or planes or signs of sentient life in the immediate vicinity, she remarks, "I didn't really take this for much in the way of civilation."

[bookish_lioness]

Hermione blinked at the response, not so much for its brusqueness, but for the incomprehensible information it contained. A witch was a specific type of magic user here? And no one knows what a wizard is? And, most importantly, "They're being locked away? Is it just for knowing magic or because they'd done something? I can understand it if they'd actively done something wrong, but if they hadn't, surely there's no reason to keep them locked up!"

bellamy blake || the 100 DA AU

[nonsibi]

[ ii. bears. ]

No, you don't understand-- I'm going that way!

[Travel-stained and tired and at the end of his rope, Bellamy shoves at one of the villagers blocking the path. There's a whole band of them, determined villagers determined to keep Bellamy from getting where he wants to go. From the bears, ostentatiously, and no matter how many times he's told them that he doesn't care about the bears, they still won't shift out of his way. This one, the one giving him the most trouble--a man taller than him, and broader by about a man and a half, shoves back. Bellamy stumbles--doesn't fall, which means he's just got ample room to round back on the villager with a glare. And his hand on his sword.

His armor looks like it's seen some action: mostly cobbled together, leather where he apparently couldn't afford (or find) steel, and what steel there is has been left dented, without attention from a smith to get it beaten out straight again. There's particular dents on the shield he's got strapped to his back. Otherwise nondescript; the cloak is a plain black one; some corpse somewhere is wearing his Templar cloak, and the otherwise tell-tale insignia marking his gauntlets are hidden under his sleeves. Mud-spattered, tattered, tired of putting up with shit to get where he's going, and now he draws his sword with a rasp of steel.]

Get out of my way.

[--Of course, now that his sword is drawn, it's not like he's going to skewer the bear fanatics with it. Or maybe he will. One of them is wearing a hood with ears. All of them are in his way, and all of them have paled considerably. To their credit, they're standing their ground.

And then there's a growl, as a very real bear ambles into the scene. A little to the left of the scene. It's almost comical, except that it's not, because now Bellamy's got to fight a bear.]


[ iv. tavern. ]

[The best thing to do after fighting a bear and getting caught in a snowstorm is go to a tavern and ask everyone if they've seen a girl.

That's what Bellamy's doing, anyways. Drinking, yes; favoring his left side, yes, and clamping down his jaw when someone elbows him by accident. There's a nasty cut over his eye hastily bandaged in the field and he should really probably sit down, but he accosts another table to ask them:]

Sorry. Excuse me, sorry. There's-- a girl, that I'm looking for. Blonde, about this tall. She'd be traveling alone. Got a staff. She was on the road a month ago, this road, right outside--a month ago, maybe two, and if you've seen anything, heard an--

[But he cuts off, frustrated, as his latest interrogation ends when the man pulls free of his grip and turns away. Piss off.]

Yeah, thanks. Real helpful-- [A loud parting shot that falls on deaf ears. Bellamy grabs his tankard and stalks back over to the bar to slam it down again.]

Another.

[Dejected, angry. He glares hopelessly out at the patrons as he waits, his elbow leaning on the bartop. The snow outside keeps him indoors, even if he keeps eyeing up the window, ready to head back out on the road the moment it clears.]

[ v. WILDCARD. ]

[what it says GIVE ME SOMETHING i'll answer it. have you seen clarke?? he might start hanging up posters.]

[qunari]

"City girl, huh? Ferelden doesn't really have a lot of those. Denerim might be the only place in the country that you could call a 'city' with a straight face. But you've got villages here and there, usually clustered around whatever castle happens to be in the area."

What follows sounds suspiciously like a snort. "And yeah, it's mostly humans down here. Few elves, handful of dwarves. No one's going to stare unless you start doing magic. People around here get real jumpy when mages are concerned."

so true

[amygdalae]

[You can always turn your life around, Matthieu. It's not too late.

Bruce lets out a small laugh at the words, and the wry smile appears on his face again.]

There could always be worse things to smell of.

[As Matthieu can probably already guess.]

I couldn't not

[avocats]

Oh, trust me. I know.

[ Matthieu suppresses a shudder. ]

As you say... I've seen some shit. Metaphorically speaking.

:')

[amygdalae]

In this day and age, its not hard to imagine.

[What with the civil war and the mage/templar in-fighting. Everyone's affected, one way or another.]

[avocats]

Indeed. The sky's open, or so they tell me.

[ Yep, the world's going to hell. ]

Doesn't excuse the smell, though.

[chainlightning]

Luckily for Obi-Wan, Merrill is a nice, non-sacrificing-of-innocents blood mage. Also, prone to dressing in greens, not all black.

"Oh, not at all! I had a house for years and never even had food to offer when someone would drop by, so you're doing quite well." And so she sits, legs folding under herself with perhaps surprising grace for someone who seems to have her head a bit in the clouds. "And- well, a bit, yes! I have a few friends who are Rifters. People from other worlds -- who some people think may be demons, so be careful -- who can close tears in the Veil with the marks on their hands."

Which... is maybe quite a lot of information to dump on someone from another world, and so she backs up, tries to explain. "The Veil is like a barrier between this world and the world of dreams and spirits, which most people call the Fade," she explains, then pats her staff. "Mages tap into the Fade to cast spells, too. But having a hole in it -- or multiple holes -- is rather dangerous, since demons just keep coming through them. Actual demons, not Rifters thought to be demons. No one is quite sure how it's pulling people from other worlds through."

and then "/pees on"

[chainlightning]

[ Oh. Whether this wolf-woman is a mage or a werewolf or something else, it is an honor to have this offered. It displays a great deal of trust, and Merrill crouches down to gently, carefully press her forehead to that of the wolf. She wouldn't dare pet her behind the ears, not like this, but respect deserves respect in turn. ]

Ma nuvenin.

[ The gesture done, she rises and then quickly scrambles onto her back, hands carefully gripping thick fur. ]

[eviscerates]

"There's an entire school for magic?" Wow. Whatever world she's gone and fallen into (not where she wanted to be, thanks a lot magic bean), it sounds very, very different from her home. "This place is amazing. Magic isn't... as far as I know, anyway, magic isn't common enough to have a whole school. It's more like a really scary mentor system."

But no, Red shakes her head. "No, I'm a wolf, as much as I'm human. It's a part of me, not something I learned how to do, but I did learn to control it. It was sort of like," and she smiles a little, rolling her eyes a little as she thinks, "it was kind of the biggest after-school special on self acceptance you can imagine. Except with much higher stakes."

Automatically, Red hopes over a boulder on the downward slope, hissing a little at the pain from her back as she lands, but looking up with a smile as she offers Hermione a hand to steady herself.

"I'm no witch," she clarifies. "Just a wolf and a waitress." And a fairy tale character, can't forget that. And, jokingly, "I'm more of a coffee person. Not sure if Wolfsbane would have quite the right kick to it."
Allowing herself a moment to be more serious and less likely to deflect everything with humour, Red goes on. "What does it do? Stop you from changing?"

this is all very important

[eviscerates]

( Later she's going to ask what the tiny adorable woman was saying, for now she's waiting until she has a good grip and starts to bound away, snatching up her red cloak in her teeth as she runs past it and bounding through the snow and the woods. She isn't sure exactly what she's looking for, odds are its something weird, though. Red keeps moving until she's reached the top of a hill, ruins that afford a view of the valley below, blanketed in snow, and then she slows.

It's not necessarily the place where something weird can be found - or, okay, she hopes not, because she left some of her stuff here and thought it seemed like a decent camp. Dropping the cloak, Red lays back down and waits for the elf to hop off before letting her transformation shift over her skin once more, leaving her kneeling into the snow, gloved hands submerged beneath the powder, and pants a little. )

I have really let myself get out of shape, ( she finally manages, before offering her new company a wave. ) Hi. I'm Red.

[bookish_lioness]

The first question Hermione wants to ask is what year is it, since even wizarding communities have cities, or at least have small factions living secretly within larger cities. What he's describing sounds more like a fiefdom than it does any form of modern living... even if she realizes that "modern" is sort of a relative term.

Instead, she asks, "Wait... so people - non-magical people - live among elves and dwarves and such, but it's magic they stare at?" Considering that elves and dwarves are considered magical beings and the average Muggle is designed to try and explain away shows of magic with logic, that all strikes her as somewhat backwards. Delightful, for the elves and dwarves, and not entirely inconvenient for her, but still backwards. "I'm used to hiding my magic; it's just that magical creatures aren't always well-regarded even among the magical community back home. Not that I agree with that, but it's a bit of a different sort of mindset. Non-magical people just assume there is no magic in the world."