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

[eviscerates]

( There are two people that she knows who used dear in their vernacular. The first was Regina, and the second was Rumpelstiltskin, and it's more those particular associations that have her looking up at the woman nearby with a certain amount of... dread? Doubt? Defiance? Maybe a mix, because all of the above seems like a reasonable enough response. )

Thank you.

( Her voice is tight, but maybe that's just strain from the, you know, tree that's dropped across her. ) I think we might need a few more people to get this thing clear, though. No offence.

( She just is very well dressed and, while possibly some sort of red carpet-wrothy Amazon, still only one. )

[dominations]

Guess what Nevarran mages love: skulls.
At least, that is what Greta understands that she is meant to love, to have some enthusiasm for. It is what she was meant to become, and the symbol makes her gut twist unhappily as she spies it through the hills, as if it were beckoning to her. There is little to mark her any more distinctively than than the man she spokes looking at the skull, and his presence sparks equal parts fear (run) and curiosity.

And so it is that a hooded figure that was about to pull away from the skull kneels down over the jagged edge of rock, pulling back her hood to reveal a waves of dark hair, skin that had caught too much sun from its reflection off the snow, and a careful, curious gaze.

"You have not seen one of these before?" She asks, and her accent marks her as Nevarran, just as the black staff at her back marks her for a mage. "There is a path to get up here, but... it is not nearby."

5

[arlathvhen]

Beleth doesn't like the skulls much either, truth be told. But the Inquisition wants them to be inspected, and she is if nothing else an obedient servant.

Or something like that.

She's circling the area where she can hear the creepy ass noise the skull makes, when she sees a man at the base of the hill. A very well-armed human man. Well, that wasn't foreboding. She freezes, but making a break for it would probably be considered suspicious. So she bobs her head to him, body posture differential. It makes humans feel safer when you act subservient.

"Hello, ser. Are you trying to get to, um." Beleth's eyes dart to the skull. "That thing, too?" She stops, her eyes slowly going to rest on a tree near the man. A way to get to that damn skull, and out of the situation slowly blossoms. "...I think you've got an idea, ser."

The Dalish approaches the tree, and then with the grace of a particularly agile squirrel, scales it. And from there, she leaps nimbly to the ledge the skull is on. Beleth takes time to make a face at it, then pokes her head over the ledge to look at the man. "That should work." She says it with a blithe politeness, as if she thought it would be completely possible for a man in full armor to shimmy up a tree like a monkey.

[arlathvhen]

"The birds like seeds. And peanut butter. And Orlesian pastries."

This helpful commentary is given by one particular Dalish elf that's watching from a tree, because that's what Dalish do in their spare time, just hang out in trees, or something like that. Or she's been trying to keep an eye on the bird as well? It's a mystery. The world may never know.

"I think Leliana spoils them. It's the other way you can tell which raven is hers. It's the fattest." She pauses, glancing around from her perch nervously. "But you didn't hear that from me." Just in case Leliana is lurking in the shadows, summoned by someone shit talking her birds.

[bookish_lioness]

She still feels a little like being sick, but she swallows it back and tries for a smile that doesn't look too much like a wince. "I'm sure you're good at other things, too," she tells him as she wipes at her tears. Although she doesn't deny that he's clearly very, very good at hitting things. It seems like a useful skill around here.

Trying for another, wider smile at the mention of the elf boy, she asks, "Is he your friend, too?" She isn't sure she wants to meet him, really, since she couldn't promise that she wouldn't stare or cry or just hug him and refuse to leave his side, even if "all grown up" means he's actually older than her.

2

[arlathvhen]

Beleth has joked multiple times about being scared enough to lose years off her life, but seeing a yelling Dalish covered in blood and about to start a fight with a bunch of shemlen is a new threat to her lifespan. She has to actually take a moment to gape at the scene, before she leaps into action. She's had to diffuse situations with Merrick often enough that she's an expert at it, though he's not usually looking like he was just gruesomely murdered, and Beleth knows that Merrick wouldn't hurt her.

She'll just have to cross her fingers and hope the other Dalish recognizes what saving her from getting hung by angry shemlen looks like.

The first step to deescalating situations is to get right in the middle, and that's what Beleth does, rushing forward between the angry Dalish and the angry shemlen, holding her hands out to both parties. She bobs her head to everyone involved, voice soothing. Like she's trying to calm down an angry bear.

"Whoa, whoa. Let's calm down, alright? No one wants to start a fight, right? That's quite unnecessary, I think." She turns to the humans, lowering her head, speaking softly. "Sers, you're part of the group attempting to preserve the bear population, correct? A worthy goal, and one that the Dalish support, of course. We are ever concerned about the health of the lands, and no one wants to see any animals disappearing."

Now she turns to Velanna, and offers a prayer to the Creators that she cooperates. "See? A simple misunderstanding, I think. They meant you no harm, I'm sure--Just a mix up. If you'd like, I can take you to camp and get you cleaned up in the lake. Get you some clean clothes and everything. And now that we all know each other, this won't happen again, right?"

She looks between both parties, eyebrow raised. Right? Riiight???

2

[gatheringstorm]

On the other hand, there's another nearby who's just fine with letting her frustration be known. "Andraste's tits, what the hell is wrong with you?? You can't reason with the damn bears, the Breach drove them mad! And no, I'm not going to let people get slaughtered just because you think leaving them alone will suddenly solve everything. The Inquisition is here to stop chaos, not promote it!"

Grumbling, Korrin stalks away from the fools with her staff ready. Even if they aren't willing to do their part in keeping the Hinterlands safe, she certainly won't waver.

[judgemewhole]

Well, that was something she would find that she and Norrington had in common. Norrington had been an adult from the time he was 10, and began his upward climb through Templar training. Yet he didn't have his formative change, began to loosen up, until he was sent to Ostwick.

Life was uncontrollable. The only thing you could control was yourself.

He gave her a puzzled look at both of those terms, but nodded at the final answer, "Yes, that more or less sums it up. There are of course, the corrupt ones in our ranks, but for the most part we are meant to protect them."

[bookish_lioness]

Assuming he didn't loosen up to the point where he'd lost all sense of propriety, they're apt to get along quite well. But then, what might be proper in her place and time might vary greatly from here... wherever and whenever "here" might be.

"I'm sure they're happy to have people like you watching out for them," she replied conversationally. "Especially if there's corruption around. The magical community back home has to look out for its own. Understandably so, of course, since we're mostly a secret."

[rebelenchanter]

With some it still did, and Fiona realized that there were quite a few still who looked to her and quite a few who relied on her to keep them safe. Allying with the Inquisition had done that beautifully, though now she deferred mostly to the leadership of the Inquisition. She could have corrected her companion, told her it was unnecessary to call her Grand Enchanter, but what was and was not necessary for an individual was up to the individual. For the moment, however, she simply bowed her head humbly in acknowledgement...the respect was appreciated.

As for Vivienne...well they had differing points of view on certain things, but there was respect regardless. No, she would say nothing.

"That is very impressive, Korrin, the pleasure is all mine," she said with a smile that was tired and genuine, they were impressive titles and achievements as far as she was concerned, "I would very much appreciate that... patience is a skill I've had to master, but I doubt my ability to keep myself in check if doused a second time."

Fiona had a swift temper in her earlier days.

hearteyes

[nonsibi]

[It's only the proximity of the bear that stops Bellamy from grabbing hold of Clarke. And even the proximity of a bear can't suppress the spike of relief that shoots through him, just at this brief glimpse of her face. It's glimpse enough to identify Clarke, enough to make this worth it. If she'd slipped past him with her hood up and her face turned down, he might still have recognized something about her--traits more difficult for anyone to disguise, the way that she walks, maybe--but it doesn't matter, it didn't happen that way; here she is instead. He can take on a bear. For Clarke, and with Clarke.

And they're going to have to. The bear's shamble is more purposeful, now that their crowd has caught its attention. Bellamy shifts his grip on his sword as he reaches around, slow, to detach his shield and get it on his arm. No big movements yet. The villagers do that for him, yelling protests at the blade in his hand, don't hurt her, leave her alone-- The bear yawns a low groan of a growl, mouth all soft taffy pink and ivory yellow where its teeth gleam.]

Get them out of the way. [Not you get out of the way. He might want that, but Clarke wouldn't do it even if he told her to. The best he can do is step sideways, in front of her, shield braced on his forearm. The bear paws at the dirt of the road, great head swaying from side to side.] Get them out of the way and hang back a little.

[The best he'll manage. She still might ignore him. She's never made anything easy. The bear's muscles bunch under loose skin and fur. It's too late to wish he was wearing a helmet. Bellamy bangs his sword against his shield instead, the hilt and crosspiece crashing loudly.]

HEY! Over here--

[madame_de_fer]

[If Vivienne knew of either Regina or Rumple, she would Greatly Disapprove of them, for the sheer abuses of magic alone. It is likely best she does not, for the Iron Lady in a righteous fit of anger is a dangerous creature.

This unease she's caused Red inadvertently doesn't go wholly unnoticed though. Certainly the tree has a part of it, but then Vivienne does do what she can to cultivate a sense of awe and intimidation in others. It generally helps keep them in line at court.]

Nonsense. I have this well in hand. A moment, if you please.

[Hope Red's not too bothered by the use of magic. There's not a templar nearby to cut off any aggressive reactions and Vivienne would hate to have to subdue someone so soon after a rescue. She channels the ambient magical energy in the air and grasps hold of it. When she raises her arms, the tree itself raises into the air. Not terribly far, but enough for Red to scramble out while the Iron Lady shifts the trunk to one side.]

[byblow]

The change in her face doesn't escape him, but he is—for one reason or another—used to people looking at him funny. Some people don't like Wardens; some people don't like him; and he said something, just now, which always exponentially increases the potential reasons she could be looking at him that way. If he knew how to stop saying things that made people look at him like he was mad or stupid or confusing—

No, he probably wouldn't stop. Never mind.

"You didn't miss much," he says, grabbing hold of that watered-down humor. "A lot of net throwing and screaming. The most useless lesson I've ever had, honestly, and I had to memorize the Chant."

That part is true, at least. He did memorize the Chant. If there had been raven-catching lessons it probably would have been more fun, if not more useful. He eyes the flock and grins down and sideways at her—as friendly as he'd be with any other complete stranger who wasn't trying to kill him.

"Barrier is smart, though. Like a magic net. I see why they made you Grand Enchanter."

[stabsbooks]

She waits until the lightning has flared and gone, until the bear stumbles reeling and half-burnt, before she strikes. Efficient, powerful blows, their measured precision contributing as much to their effectiveness as the force behind them does. Cassandra does not have the bulk to waste on wild swings that may glance off their targets, or miss entirely. She puts everything she has into every action, and it has always served her well.

As it does now. The bear goes down, Greta's readiness to cast her spell again rendered unnecessary, and Cassandra steps back, considering the beast with grim satisfaction for a moment before turning to the mage.

"Excellent work," she says, with a small, amused upward quirk of her lips. "It seems we make a good team."

[gatheringstorm]

There's a rueful chuckle from Korrin at mention of patience, as she starts them off, glad that the camp isn't too far. Who knows what that scent of blood might draw to them, after all? And though she's not about to harm civilians, the Vashoth mage is strongly tempted to pass by those protesters again and glare at them. Maybe they could be intimidated into not being idiots, but she doubts it.

"I certainly couldn't blame you for losing your temper after all that. I would have handled that with far less grace, of that I have no doubt. Patience is a skill I'm very far from mastering; I can't say council meetings have helped that any. Suffice it to say that those training dummies get a lot of abuse afterwards."

Blunt, uncompromising, impatient, quick temper...the list of reasons why Korrin isn't suited for politics goes on and on. Yet, curiously enough, she remains. It's something of a mystery to herself, too.

[eviscerates]

Okay.

( Hopefully 'well in hand' doesn't mean anything alarming. When does anything alarming ever happen to Red? Never, no. Not at all. This is fine! (This is not fine.)

She's holding her breath without thinking about it, and when the tree shifts and lifts, it hurts to finally get the full use of her lungs again, breath rasping as she makes her bruises limps push so she can better roll onto her front and move. For a moment she's on her knees in the snow, one red-gloved hand cradling the other, before she looks up to her rescuer and stands, the red brocade of her cloak still dusted with snow.

Her words are still just a little breathless. ) Thank you. And sorry for doubting you.

[dominations]

The magic dissipates into the air, and Greta takes a moment to glance down at her gloves - fingerless black leather that reaches past her wrists and are carried on my cloth wrapped and bound around her arms, up and past the elbow. She flexes her right hand, tugs the glove on the left a little, and looks to Cassandra with her own shadow of amusement.

"It must be Nevarran solidarity, I think." Although, one can never know. If this woman attended court, she may have known Cilla. She may even recognise Greta, though it has been so long since she was there, and she does not plan on introducing herself as Margareta Dalqvist. Beyond mages, perhaps that would be no point of interest - she was only a girl apprenticed to a Necromancer, no noble, no one worth esteem.

She pauses sets her staff at her back, and inclines her head in a respectful nod. She can't decide if she is pleased or terrified at having met one of her countrymen. "I'm Greta. I don't, uh."
Beyond the field of battle, well, she begins to carry herself a little more awkwardly, holding herself tall and stiff, the way a shy person who has been forced beyond that tends to do. "I don't meet many Nevarrans in Ferelden."

2

[unbrokenoath]

"If you don't watch out, you're going to have a little beggar at your heels." Kaisa strolls up to the strange man's camp like it was hers, and Obi-Wan was the visitor, though the smile on her face is friendly and genuine. She sinks onto the ground carelessly, her dog at her side. He takes a moment to snuffle her hair, now that she's on his level, then moves to Obi-Wan, sniffing at him, then leaning towards the food, until Kaisa grabs his collar and drags him back.

"See what I mean? This is what that little fox is going to look like if you're not careful. And he'll get fat." But it's said with affection, as the dog gives up on food in favor of sprawling across Kaisa's lap, belly up.

4

[unbrokenoath]

[ Kaisa isn't sure what kind of help a man surrounded by cake would need, and when her arm is grabbed, she hesitates, raising an eyebrow. Wardens are supposed to help those in need, so she'll still try to give it a shot, but it seems like his greatest need will involve doing a few laps after he eats all of these. ]

Is there a problem...? Oh--Didn't they give you something to drink? I can get you some ale, or something.

[ Pause, as she eyes some of the cakes. Unless... ]

Or do you want help eating some of those.

[ At her side, her dog tries to put his head up onto the table to sniff hopefully, only to be gently guided back down by Kaisa. Cakes aren't even good for you, dog. ]

[qunari]

"Yeah. He's still up north, though. Don't think we're likely to see him down here. But we still talk." A quiet sigh lifts those shoulders as he turns that direction, as though they might actually see Par Vollen from here. "He's got a lot of anger in him, but that's not exactly a shock. He's doing well, pushing past anger to purpose. That's the hardest part."

He lets her sniffle, push the tears past, before gesturing onwards down the hill. "Reminds me of you, though. Real outspoken. Got a temper, too. Wound up calling him 'Gaat'...which. Would probably make more sense if you knew what gaat-lok was," he added after a moment, chuckling. "Explosive powder. Dangerous stuff if you don't handle with care."

[bookish_lioness]

Hermione follows his gaze, even if she doesn't know what she'd be looking for. Given the snow and the unfamiliarity of her surroundings, he could well have been referencing the nearest hillside as much as anything beyond it. "Anger seems fairly common around here," she points out, knowing full well that she hasn't exactly been a barrel of laughter since her arrival.

She takes a deep breath before what he says catches up to her, leading her to chuckle dryly. "My temper isn't that bad. I just... get a little riled up sometimes, that's all." She's only sent attack birds after Ron once, and that's impressive, considering how often he sticks his foot in his mouth. "A few well-placed explosions can make a world of a difference, so long as you don't end up blowing yourself up."

[lifeofendurance]

Ah the accent. Aleron recognizes it immediately. He'd been sent to Cumberland for some years following Mirielle's death, and to some degree he considers that his place of return. Nowhere is truly home for him. Not since he was a child. But those are thoughts of the past and not the present, which is what he needs to attend to. Brooding on things long gone can come tonight whenever he comes to rest.

Still, the familiar accent is a pleasure to hear, even if he doesn't show it.

He looks up to the speaker and slowly shakes his head. "I have not. Are you familiar with them?" Aleron spares a glance around at the landscape before him, trying to ascertain point of ascent to that location. Clearly the lady knows the way. "In which direction does the path lie?"

Her staff is not much of a concern to the Seeker, unless she suddenly chooses to become aggressive. He knows not who she is, nor her history, and he is no Templar. His duty does not include the mundane hunting of mages. Particularly not one who's done no obvious wrong beyond lingering around an unknown potential source of magic.

[lifeofendurance]

The deferential treatment doesn't even register with Aleron, at least not in the sense of making him feel important (or safer). His mother would argue that it should, and he should remember his station, but as far as he's concerned that went out the window with the bathwater when he was nine years old. The Seekers are his family now. And he's spent too many years being the heavy coming in to investigate problems to do much beyond to note the plain facts that she's being deferential for some reason and seems almost nervous.

He crosses his arms over his chest and watches without reaction as she scrambles up the tree. It's not a bad idea, though not something he can pull off in the armor. Aleron shakes his head slightly. "I doubt I can take that route, madam."

Of course, now that she's up there and he's still on the ground, the elf could well take off, or snatch the skull and then run. He's got no purpose to care if she stays or goes, beyond wondering why she's there in the first place, and concern she's going to steal the item before he can investigate it.

"Do you know what that is? What it does?"

[lifeofendurance]

If the sight of an angry Qunari woman arguing with the locals wasn't enough to grab Aleron's attention, the word 'Inquisition' would more than do the job. One was a rare sight in his experience. The other? Well, seeking out this 'Inquisition' was what he was doing in the area in the first place. He's not about to let that opportunity pass him by. Not that he's keen to go stomping through an area infested with demon possessed bears, but that does fall rather squarely under something he should address personally.

He swings down from his horse, lashing the reins around a tree in quick and efficient order then attempts to follow the woman. "Madam? A word, if you please?"

It's phrased as a request, but rest assured he means to speak her her. It's a statement of fact.

[judgemewhole]

That would take a miracle beyond reasoning, Hermione. Norrington's sense of propriety is iron-clad. He's learning about new ways from different rifters - so he'll help her along as best he can.

He looked over at her, before his mouth twisted a little. Still, he couldn't say she was completely wrong. "There are those who see us as a necessity, and those who see us as magical jailers. The truth is somewhere in the middle, I've found."