allthisshitisweird | TEST DRIVE MEME!

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TEST DRIVE MEME!

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.

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I can talk to people fine.

[Bellamy, somewhere in Kane's behind-left proximity, with his hand wrapped tight around his horse's loose reigns, glowers just a little.

Just a little. Kane is someone that Bellamy has grown to mostly trust--even listen to, most of the time. He's made his mistakes. Who hasn't. He's proved wiser than most that made it out of Kaiten. He's out here, in the frozen nowhere, looking for Clarke, and he means it. That part counts for a lot, for Bellamy.

But he's more patient. Which, in turn, fuels Bellamy's impatience, which is why they're out walking in the creeping cold dark. The inside of Bellamy's nose is a little frozen and he sniffles, raises his hand to rub his wrist against it and thaw, briefly. His horse makes a soft noise behind him, a shudder. Warm breath against the back of his neck. Bellamy rubs at his nose again and scans the woods around them, rather than look at Kane.]

If she's there, we find out. If she's been there. And if she's not, or she hasn't, then we move on. Not exactly hard to get that kind of information out of people.

It's been a very long time since Velanna saw another Dalish, and that in itself is almost enough to startle her off her warpath. She actually doesn't hear most of what the young woman says to the fools she's staring down as she takes several shallow breaths, trying to calm herself down. Once she's done talking, Velanna is (almost) calm. It takes her a moment to respond, however, her jaw tight.

"Fine," she snaps, before looking up at the group gathered. "I will let the shemlen go, provided they go quickly." She's had misunderstandings in the past, of course. Almost always they lead to her murdering a bunch of people.

Fortunately, Korrin doesn't seem inclined to pry. If her brief grimace is anything to go by, she's been to the Deep Roads before. It's a place she'd just as soon forget, if possible.

She nods to the question, readily elaborating. "There are several I'm familiar with, and more beyond that. No full clans, but some have a sizable representation in Skyhold. The most numerous are of the Ashara clan. Dahlasanor and Ghilan have representatives as well."

She won't ask if Velanna knows specific people, because it annoys the hell out of her when people ask her about some random person with horns like she knows every single one in Thedas. But there might be a curious glance, to see if the names of her friends' clans spark any recognition.

Hearing that slavery was illegal was a good sign, though technically speaking, that didn't always mean it didn't happen. House-elves were slaves, no question about it, and yet the wizarding community thought it was the most natural thing in the world to have one around at your beck and call. Even Ron had thought as much, until he'd learned better.

"How exactly did they abuse their power, then?" Hermione asked carefully, knowing it must have been dire if some of them had been "taken care of permanently". She didn't know why she asked questions to which she really didn't want the answer, but sometimes her drive to know everything about a given situation could be something of a curse.

Behind her, Hermione frowns as Red tries to explain, though it doesn't really make a whole lot of sense. She's acting as though they're from two completely separate... not just worlds, but realities. She would know if there was another magical world or pocket dimension or whatnot tucked away somewhere, wouldn't she? She couldn't imagine not having come across even rumors of such a thing.

She can almost buy someone having met Robin Hood, if it turns out that he's some sort of ancient wizard of legend or if she'd somehow had access to a Time-Turner. It's the talk of Snow White that makes her stop, looking at her incredulously. She doesn't mean to, but it's hard not to.

"If you mean fairy tales being real in the sense that they're the basis for legends, I could believe you. I've seen as much for myself, and fairly recently, too." Not that she'd grown up with those particular fairy tales, but Ron and others who'd been raised in magical families certainly had, and there'd been a lot of truth to "The Tale of the Three Brothers" that had helped them throughout the war. "But if you mean actual fairy tale characters being real and alive and not just individuals who'd lived once upon a time and had their stories recorded, I don't know what to make of that."

She doesn't stop applying the dittany for too long, though, even if that frown stays fixed as she continues. "Are you trying to say we're from separate worlds entirely? As in alternate realities? Because I know for a fact that Snow White has never existed, or if she did, it had been so long ago that her story has been altered throughout history; dwarves certainly exist, and a cursed apple isn't beyond the scope of possibility, but being woken up by a kiss...! Robin Hood might have once been a person, but-...."

Cutting herself off, she turns her head enough to try and look at Red's face, still thoroughly confused. "What do you mean, back at home? And how can you acknowledge them as fairy tales if you're claiming to know these people? Do you just walk into a world where fictional characters come to life but live the rest of your time someplace else?"

Blackwall is immensely grateful to see the bear finally stop its charge. Normally, he could take it out, no problem. Today has been bear central. It was like he walked straight into a cave or something.

He will deny it if asked.

Whatever the case, he turns to take a breath, nodding at the mage -- no, he doesn't care that this is a Qunari (Vashoth? He'll ask later) and a mage -- before he moves forward again. The thing is already taunted, focused entirely on him, so he just lifts his sword and lays into the beast.

And then uses Shield Bash for good measure. Between the two of them, it should go down pretty quickly. When it does, he'll just need a couple minutes to breathe. That sure was a hell of a lot of running he just did.

[ frankly, blackwall doesn't give a damn about their problems, especially now that they've thrown bear blood on him.

seriously. what a shithead.

all the same, when they leave and someone else rides up, dismounts, and offers him a skin of water, he isn't going to complain. he is definitely going to use it to wash off. at least, y'know, his head. the armor washes later. ]

Thanks. I'll be washing this out of my armor for weeks, never mind the smell. Didn't think they cared that much. Makes me wonder where they got the blood.

[ he is so over this whole bear thing. SO DONE. ]

"Snow White does exist," she says, tired. "She's my best friend. She was with me when I found out about the wolf. She and David, they're king and queen."
Though, for all that she sounds exhausted, she does get it. When she was under the curse she wouldn't have believed any of this, either. There is something fond in her voice, though, when she speaks - fond and lost, or sad, or maybe just longing. "True love is the strongest magic out there. Even the Queen's magic couldn't stand in the way of that. It wasn't the kiss, exactly. It was the love."

True love was different for everyone, though. Some people had it. Some people lost it. Some people destroyed it, like Red.

"Different world as in... As in I threw a magic bean on the ground because I wanted to get home, and when I jumped through the portal, this is where it spat me out."

"I'm..." Red sighs, and clutches the cloak closer to herself. "There was a curse that took us from our world, and it-- it changed us. I wasn't joking when I said it was complicated."

For a moment, Red looks up at the sky, and there's an unhappiness in her gaze, as snowflakes settle on her eyelashes. This is so hard to explain to an outsider, and she's realising that maybe being isolated in Storybrooke all those years wasn't the worst thing out there. "Picture a curse powerful enough to rip people from their world, and take them somewhere else. No memories, nothing." A little glance towards Hermione, but she doesn't linger, too concerned what she might see there.
"No more happy endings. And when you're in the world without magic, then fairy tales are just stories. We knew different stories, but they weren't the same as us. Little town in Maine, called Storybrooke. The curse was broken, obviously." And she lets out a little huff of laughter, at that. "Because of true love, again. I know it sounds... completely impossible."

That depends on the people.

[ If he's learned anything both about the Circle apprentices and the allies they found in the younger of the Templars, it's that their spirit counts for something. He'd been a part of an institution dedicated to stamping it out, for the sake of their own safety in the case of mages, and for the sake of their hierarchy within their ranks. Bellamy's impatience seems to correspond with his willingness to risk everything for his people.

So Kane handles it, when he can. When he can afford to. He speaks now with the goal to explain, but do so firmly. ]

Even if we don't run headlong into Inquisition, we'll be talking to those in league with them. People under their protection. In a land ravaged by Templars gone rogue, they'll shut us out if we just start asking about a missing mage.

[ Probably, anyway. Almost certainly, if Bellamy takes the lead, in Kane's opinion. ]

I'll handle it.

They haven't been in this new strange place for very long, and Emma is still getting used to it. Hell it'd be a hard enough transition under normal circumstances, and things are decidedly abnormal. She's a dark one on top of being a fish out of water, and it's a hell of a lot to get used to. All of it at once is a little overwhelming.

Red seems to be hesitating to head into the tavern, and as the door slams open and a few drunks tumble out, Emma winces at the volume of the music and festivity inside. Is that what is holding Ruby back because yeah, Emma gets it.

"Do you want me to bring something out for us?" It's colder out here but it's definitely not as loud. She can probably manage to go inside a tavern and buy a bit of food for them without force-choking a stranger or accidentally setting things on fire. Right?

"I'm not sure," Ruby starts, slow and a little cautious as she glances at Emma. "I'm pretty sure taverns didn't smell as much like wet rat last time I was, you know." In a medieval fantasy land with magic and everything going wrong.

Her expression is perplexed, somewhere between a smile and a furrowed brow. "Wet rat and... cake. I'm not really about that combination."

But they've walked a lot, through the snow, and Ruby is tired, and Emma doesn't seem to be so great, either. It'd be one thing if she'd turned up with a bow and arrow, but that'd be just a little bit too convenient. "Maybe - you don't need to rest? I'm not sure if you're ready for ye olde taverns. You might get called a wench, or something. I might too, but, uh. I'm used to it."

Which is to say, she thinks Emma might punch someone.

Hermione's frown only deepens at all of that. David? She doesn't recall there being a David. Unless that had been Prince Charming's real name, but even then, she'd never heard of Snow White having a best friend named Red.

Out of everything she says, there's only one thing that really makes sense. "Love is the strongest magic. I'm no romantic, but I've seen love save lives. Just... not romantic love." And she hopes she never does, given that she'd never want someone to sacrifice themselves for a lover the way Harry's mum had for him. She'd never want anyone to go through their lives, knowing they're the reason someone they love isn't here anymore.

She doesn't know if the bit about the magic bean is literal or metaphorical, and she has the feeling that she's going to have that confusion more than once, where Red is concerned. She doesn't understand what's going on, especially since the answer seems to be magical in nature and yet has nothing to do with any kind of magic she's familiar with. There's no spell that can change reality to the point where several people can be ripped from their world. Save for the Killing Curse, that is.

... but then, how else would they have found themselves here, in a place that neither of them seem to recognize as home?

"... Storybrooke," Hermione echoes after a moment, trying not to sound completely incredulous. "You're saying that Snow White and Robin Hood were your neighbors in a town called Storybrooke, and you'd never known the truth?"

But then... what if their names had been altered? Snow might not be a common name, but perhaps Charming had only been a nickname for David, and if she'd only known Robin by his first name....

Or... she's one of the fairy tale characters herself.

That much should have been obvious, but it only strikes Hermione now, and she blinks down at the woman once she finishes with her back. Red. A cloak. And a wolf.

"You're not...Little Red Riding Hood?" she asks, already laughing because really, that's just a silly supposition to make in light of nothing more than coincidences and a peculiar story.

"The second time wasn't romantic. True love isn't just for romance. Sometimes it's friends or family. Love is important all around, I guess."

And, she holds up a hand. Scout's honour. "Actually, that was part of the curse. No memories of home, different lives. Snow was Mary Margaret Blanchard, and she taught at the primary school. I was Ruby, and I worked at my Granny's diner. We were just... normal."

If she sounds a little nostalgic? It's because she is. She wouldn't give up being Red, but there had been a lot of stuff that she'd been better off forgetting, happier not knowing. "And Robin didn't turn up for a long time, but that's a whole different story. Some people got left behind. It's... it's convoluted," is the only thing she can say. Because it was. It was so confusing to think about.

The look she throws Hermione is somewhere between amused and indignant. "Just Red. No one's called me 'little' since I was fourteen, tops. Geez, tease a girl for her name. Feels like being a teenager all over again."

But, huh. She rolls her shoulder a little, and after a moment, adds, "It feels a lot better. The scratches, I mean."

Apparently her curse had managed to miss one enhanced sense, and for that Emma is grateful. The noise roaring out of the place is bad enough, she can't imagine that combined with a foul smell, too. Still, her expression curls in distaste at the idea of it anyway.

"I think I would have been okay not knowing about the rat thing," Emma notes flatly, but that's probably par for the course in a place that didn't understand disease or the necessity of proper hygiene. What choice do they have?

Does she need rest? Emma can't say that she feels tired. Or, okay, she feels quite tired, every sense has been going off at warp 11 since she arrived, they've walked a lot and the battle of whispers in her head have been pretty draining. But, no, she doesn't feel tired. And what is this about being called a wench?

She looks down at the dress she's wearing, which seemed pretty standard for the time, but still— "This is a wench dress?" Ruby had done her a favor, getting her out of the sack and burlap cloak combo, but was wench dress really the only option?

As the bear remains focused on the human instead of her, Korrin doesn't hesitate to close in to melee range. Activating her spirit blade, she swings vigorously, cutting in as deep as her companion's physical sword. The roars don't slow her down at all, and she knows with a little more effort it'll go down surely as the rest she's fought up to this point.

When that happens, Korrin takes a moment to catch her breath and glances over. Her hand already strays to a potion at her belt, though not for herself. When her Barrier spell lasts as long as she needs to now, there's usually little need.

"Are you alright?"

"What can I say, they like their bears for whatever reason. But you should try the bear-blood lager. It'll put hair on your chest like nothing else," says a buxom pirate, casually watching from the sidelines. "After a display like that, you could probably use a drink."

[You can't tell allies just by looking at them. You can't tell someone's sympathies. And if you ask in the wrong way--then it happens just like Kane says, they shut you out, or worse. I'm looking for a missing mage but trust me, we're friends. Yeah, right.

Bellamy's mouth twists. Internal sigh.]

I hate it when you're right.

[Not exactly a subordinate speaking to a superior, but lines have been blurred and crossed and so on. Survival breeds autonomy, and a sort of camaraderie.]

Fine. You do the talking. What're you going to say?

At the sound of a voice above her, Teren furrows her brow and turns slowly to look behind. There is an elf in a tree, who somehow escaped her notice-- she curses herself for her carelessness.

"Of course not," she answers flatly, then looks forward again. She sees the raven, and indeed, it does exceed the size of most. Pursing her lips at it, she turns back again. "And how come you to know this?"

Teren sighed. If nothing else, the rifters would be a bother for how little they knew of the world.

"Can be possessed," she corrected, "if they were all possessed outright, either they'd all be dead or we would."

"Warden."

A brusque voice greets Blackwall in the Gull and Lantern, and should he turn to see its source, he'll note a tall and hawkish woman wearing the warden blues. "Of the Fereldan grey, I expect?" she says, and inclines her head slightly, lifting the mug she carries. "Might I sit a moment?"

When the creature is stunned, a sudden burst of movement from the trees betrays a woman who had been keeping herself hidden. Her twin knives, long and thin like cruel needles, puncture the thing's back. As it rears back in a furious scream, Teren looks past it to the warrior, offering a nod of acknowledgment. That mountain of a woman could best a demon with a single blow. This won't be difficult.

"Like a mother for her son," Hermione murmurs absently. She doesn't know that it echoes the case Red's referencing, but it's exactly what had happened in her world. Lily Potter is about the only reason Hermione can bring herself to believe something as maudlin as love being behind the world's most powerful magic.

Before Red even gives her a proper response regarding her name, she mentioned working at Granny's diner, and the strange retelling of the tale already starts forming in her head. It's enough to make Hermione forget about having wandered from a dream and into the path of hostile bears, if only because understanding this happens to be a more pressing matter at the moment. "Well obviously you're not little, but-..." she begins, trailing off with a small frown.

Shaking her head, she remarks, "I find all this hard to believe. Magic can do all sorts of things, but the magic you're talking about... it shouldn't be possible." She pauses for a moment before admitting in a low murmur, "But then, neither should going to sleep on a completely normal evening and waking up in an unfamiliar forest with bears attacking you."

Whatever the case, she's sure that no one cares what she does or doesn't believe, and so she focuses on the more important thing at the moment. "They shouldn't even scar," she tells her, glancing at her back once more. "I'm glad I had the dittany with me. I've gotten better at healing charms over the years, but I'm still not nearly as good as I could be if I don't have the right potion."

"And non-magical people can't be possessed?" she asked, knowing that she was wearing thin on this woman's nerves but still needing to know all she could about her current situation. "But surely no mage would want to be possessed? Can't they learn how not to be?"

After all, that's what schools like Hogwarts exist for, to make sure children grow up knowing how to be responsible about their magic.

"Only seemed fair," Red replies with a bit of a grin playing at the corners of her mouth. Is it wrong that she's really glad she's getting to spend time with Emma, even with everything? Probably, but it's so good to see a friend. This is the most time they've spent together in God only knows how long.

Okay, she can't help finally giving into the smile, stepping forward so her hands lightly catch Emma's wrists.
"It's not the dress," she starts, before frowning. W--aiiiittt-- "And it's not you!" comes the next rush of words, Red making a face at herself along the lines of shut up, Ruby before trying to stop this from becoming a wreck before she's even managed to say something properly coherent. "It's the time. You could be the most demure and high class lady in the world, and they'd still call you a wench. Taverns are just... taverns."

Way to sell the lifestyle. "We could go in together? Solidarity."

"That's not being fair, that's just making sure I suffer as much as you do." Emma couldn't say she was any hungrier than she was sleepy, a part of her had to wonder if it was a part of her curse, but for once the voices in her head seemed to have no comment. Maybe the din of the pub was good for something, and the distraction of having someone with her was helping keep her mind off the darkness.

It was hard to pull a smile out of the savior right about now. With things feeling so hopeless, her expression was pulled to match. Still, Red stammering to cover she didn't mean that Emma was the one making the dress look wench-y, even Emma had to pull a bit of a smile.

"Then it's no different than any bar in any world, ever," she assured the brunette, shrugging her shoulders. "I made it through a tavern back in the Enchanted Forest and drank a pirate under the table. I think I'll be okay." Granted at the time she'd had no magic at all (or at least none she could reach), and now she had... well, a lot more than that. "Together sounds good."

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TEST DRIVE MEME!

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