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

[gatheringstorm]

"Wow. Leave some room for the rest of us." Korrin raises an eyebrow at all those relations; thanks to the Qun, beyond her parents Korrin has no idea who she might be related to through blood. The thought of a family that expansive is a bit mind-boggling to her. She shakes her head a touch incredulously, not capable of imagining what that's like.

At that question, she straightens and nods, a glint of pride in her eyes. Politics annoy the hell of her, but she can still be proud at what the council has accomplished so far. And if it annoys the more pious Chantry folk, all the better. "I did; we govern ourselves now. With the support of the Inquisition, it includes all mages, Circle-trained and otherwise. I represent the latter, of the non-Dalish variety."

It's not like her being an apostate is a dread secret, especially now. No more Circles, no more care. Besides, what Circle ever held a Vashoth?

[gatheringstorm]

"Absolutely." Korrin starts them off, realizing just how much she'd have to share. Years and years worth of crazy stories, though who knows how they'd compare to Rose's own exploits.

"I...wasn't here on my own, not initially. Some of the Valo-Kas -most of them fairly new, so well beyond your time- were at the Conclave while I had a job nearby. Then the Temple exploded and...well, you must know how that story went. No one emerged but the Herald. Shokrakar wanted vengeance for them, but didn't care for being tied down to the Inquisition, so I told her I'd stay put, be their representative. It's the least I can do."

[chainlightning]

[ And Merrill is ready now. She holds her staff in one hand, but the fire comes from the other; just a bit, both enough to catch the wood ablaze and to show Ruby that yes, she really is using magic.

It's merrily (no pun intended) crackling in just a moment. ]

The tears in the Veil, mostly -- like the one you would have fallen out of, to get in this world. There was a very large one caused by an explosion that killed a great many people, including the Divine, the leader of the Chantry -- a religious leader. The Inquisition was formed to find whoever is responsible and close the tears in the Veil, as well as deal with people who are battling each other and blaming each other for the Divine's death.

I'm not Andrastian, but- fixing the world, helping people, stopping more bloodshed? It seems like a good cause to me, and people I trust have been with the Inquisition since the beginning.

[eviscerates]

Something we've got to talk about. That is a collection of words that can be exceptionally alarming in any context, and ever since the curse was broken, the potential for terribleness kind of escalated a little. Ruby's biggest problems were feeling like she'd be stuck in a small fishing town in Maine for her whole life. The potential for terrible once magic was brought back into the picture and you could feel the monster lurking underneath your skin again for the first time in, what? Three decades? It was kind of a spike. Maybe something happened in Storybrooke, or maybe something happened to Emma. Right now, she has no idea. The only thing that really has any significance is that Emma needs to talk. Though Red has pushed herself up to stand, she lingers by Emma for a moment to squeeze her shoulder.

"Of course. These ears are all the better for hearing with, so... you've come to the right person." It's a lame joke, but Red is kind of a lame person, gifted with an encouraging smile. "And you got it, Sheriff. I'll ask for a side of extra e.coli."

And with that, she sweeps away to place an order at the bar, weaving past burly men with axes. She's not gone long, and returns with two giant wooden steins of beer, setting one down in front of Emma before she slides back into the seat. "Apparently this from a brewery in a place called Denerim. And the guy at the bar had never heard of any of the towns I mentioned, and looked at me weird when I mentioned Queen Snow White. He almost didn't give me the beer."

[giant_woman]

"You're a good girl, Korrin," Rose put her arm around Korrin's shoulders, walking close beside her so that the shield on her back tapped against her pauldron's every fourth stride, "You were thinking of the group before yourself. That's very admirable; but are you happy here? Goodness knows, Shokrokar can be a little... overwhelming."

That's an understatement, for you.

"But you don't have to stay, if you don't want to," Rose's demeanor was all sympathy, radiating concern and protectiveness like the heat off a campfire-- and then her gentle smile twisted wry, "Of course, you could always come join my Gems, if you like... We've always got a spot open for you, you know."

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin was going to place her staff into the staff on her back one more, but that arm around her shoulders has her changing her mind. She just holds onto it instead, leaning in a little as they walk. Rose is certainly allowed to be affectionate and she'll return it in kind. That comment about Shokrakar gets a fond laugh out of her, knowing how very true that statement can be.

"I know, you've said that before and I appreciate the offer. I really do. But you're wrong, I do have to stay. Not just for the company, but for myself. Leaving instead of seeing this through to the end...it just wouldn't feel right, Rose. And even that aside, I am happy. I have a purpose, new mage training, a lovely lady...life is a lot better than I deserve, actually."

[samahl]

Cyril celebrates with a 'whoop!' as the bear turns tale and leaves. Then he turns all of his attention to Sorrel and slowly puts his bow away.

"I missed you as well," he says. He looks over Sorrel's body. He does it to check injury but does it in such a way that it looks like he's checking him out. "You're as beautiful as always."

[arlathvhen]

Aleron, Beleth does not even know what a Seeker is, and she wouldn't care even if she did.

What is clear is that he wants her to come down to talk to her. As someone who has had to spend her time in Skyhold craning her neck to talk to all these tall shems and qunari, she feels like she can manage some sympathy. But whether or not this is a safe thing to do is another question. He could be one of those rogue Templars that had been roaming around the Hinterlands. But he hasn't tried attacking her yet, which is more than any of those had done. And he cared about his horse. That was a good sign.

So she nodded, and hopped off the ledge, back onto the tree, and made her way back down to his level. Answering questions can't hurt, right? It's not like she knows anything top secret (or that she'd admit to). When she does reach Aleron, she holds a fist to her chest, and ducks her head at him. "Scout Beleth Ashara of the Inquisition. I'll answer what questions I can, Ser...?" If he's going to be playing 20 questions with her, the least she can get back is a name, she figures.

[judgemewhole]

He looked over at her, before he pressed his lips together as he tried to explain it. "You have a shard in your hand - a remnant of the rift itself. With that, you can open one of the remaining rifts in Thedas, or in our hopes? Close them by gesturing at it with your hand. Again ... all I understand is the logistics."

[giant_woman]

"You'll have to introduce us, then," And, checkmate. You've got to take the cheap thrills where you can get them, and embarrassing someone in front of their girlfriend is about as cheap as they come, "And give me the grand tour. You hear a lot of rumors, about this mysterious Skyhold fortress!"

Rose isn't joining the Inquisition so much as allowing it to have her, really. But that's how Rose works; she grows into things, like roots taking hold, and then one day you find she's indispensable, without ever knowing what happened to the intervening steps. Call it Ben-Hassrath training, if you like, but it was inevitable as the sunrise.

"Now, tell me about this girl..."

[writteninblood]

And, just like that, the moment is gone. Sorrel commemorates its passing by putting his hand over Cyril's face and shoving him away, playfully.

"Well, you still look like something a Halla and a ferret made when no one was looking," Cyril hadn't changed a bit, "Ma serannas, though, seriously. If I'd come all this way just to get eaten by a bear, Beleth would have killed me."

[sunshinethroughgrey]

She paused in the midst of about to toss the frost spell, before she lifted both eyebrows. She dropped her hands, dissipating the spell as she did so. "Ah ... all right. I can get you to the Inquisition."

She looked over at the bear, then back at the man. "... He or she is not invited to join. As far as I know we're not accepting bears." She flashed a wry smile, before gesturing for him to follow her.

[bookish_lioness]

Her frown only deepened at his response, and she looked down at her palm, outright scowling at the light he'd referred to as a piece of the Fade. "So not only is some of the magic stuck in my hand, but I can actually wield it?" she asked, not entirely sure how she felt forcibly being given command of a foreign magic. "Isn't that dangerous, having people who don't understand it being able to open or close these rifts at their leisure?"

[arlathvhen]

The silhouette is one that Beleth would recognize anywhere, any how. At a distance, upside down, in the dark, you could blind her and she'd still know it by heart. But she still doubts. Doubts her eyes, her sanity, and and her memory. Because there's no way that her twin could be there.

She rushes forward anyway, running with all the speed she can muster, to see if this is a hallucination, an uncanny lookalike (perhaps a triplet separated at birth. pffft.) or if by some miracle, the Creators had listened to her. She doesn't even see the bear, not until she's stopped in her tracks at stared at the fleeing Dalish for long enough to confirm that she was either batshit crazy, or Sorrel had just wandered into the Hinterlands.

That was when she saw the bear.

She had to restrain herself from bodily tackling Sorrel, grabbing out her bow instead. She picked out a very particular arrow, got on her knee, and took a steady draw. Then the arrow flew true, hitting the bear's flank.

Then it exploded.

It was then followed by several more arrows, enough that the bear decided that perhaps this was more trouble than it was worth. Another arrow exploding all but under his nose confirmed that, and he took his leave. There was, roughly, three seconds between the bear fleeing, and when an elf-sized blur slammed into Sorrel.

"Fenedhis lasa! You came all the way south just to come hang out with a bear, huh? You ass." This was, naturally, interspersed with kisses to his dumb, goofy face.

[samahl]

"Does she know you're away from the Clan?" he asks. He laughs away the being shoved and then turns to look at Sorrel again, this time even more obviously. "Did you decide to follow in her footsteps?"

[writteninblood]

"Oh yes, I wrote it all up in a nice letter, which I drafted with my silver inkpen on shining white vellum and handed off to trained ravens," Sorrel leans his staff up against a nearby tree then sits to manage his footwraps as he's been longing to do for the last hour-- completely missing Cyril's second look in the process, "No, you goose, I would've beaten any letter here, so I decided to just come, instead."

And, since Cyril is looking, he'll see all the little changes. He stands a little taller than at home, but also Sorrel is thinner that he was, marked by poor eating. His shirt isn't just worn, it's the same one he owned when Cyril left the clan. In fact, all of Sorrel's gear is likely familiar. What might have changed is a patch here, or a replacement strap, or a mended spot, but it's all the same, straight through. The lone exception, marking the intervening time, comes when Sorrel bends his head to tie himself off: a new scar, still vaguely pink and shape like the branches of a tree, just showing along his back, peeking up above the loose cowl of Sorrel's scarf.

"She'll be as surprised to see me as you were, I'm sure."

[samahl]

"Surprised? I'm sure she'll be thrilled." Cyril came closer to him and took note of his gear and his clothes.

"You need to come with me to the Inquisition camps, don't you? We can get you some near gear that will help protect you from bears."

[writteninblood]

"I'm not planning to go bearhunting, you know," But Sorrel stands up to follow, amicably enough, "What I have is fine! Besides, how am I gonna pay for any of it; think they take undried elfroot cuttings?"

He's nervous, can you tell? All the rumors agree on one thing about the Inquisition, at least: it's big. All those humans... He'd gotten through Denerim well enough, but traveling as a stranger wasn't the same as being expected to-to be part of something.

But Sorrel had come here, after all, on purpose.

"Lead on, then. I'm with you."

[samahl]

"Oh, words I'll never tire of hearing when they come from your mouth," Cyril responded easily. He had settled into flirting with Sorrel easily because it was familiar and fun to do.

Then he pulled away to lead the way to the nearest camp. He seemed very comfortable doing so as well, as if he had gotten used to thinking of the Inquisition as home.

[writteninblood]

"A-hurr-hurr-hurr," Sorrel replied, in perfectly fluent sarcasm as he followed. No one seemed to blink, two Dalish elves, a hunter and an apostate, no one stopped them from walking right into the camp as if they had any right.

As if they belonged here.

Sorrel tried to relax, to follow Cyril's lead, but it was hard to avoid the natural way he let himself slouch, kept his head down, as if to become smaller, less to notice, less to target. He avoided making eye contact, and focused on simply following his lethallin through the steps. Everything was fine. Everything was going to be just fine.

[samahl]

Cyril seemed to notice this so he moved over to Sorrel and put an arm around him. "Hey," he said seriously. "You're all right. You're part of Clan Ashara, and we have to represent that proudly. Don't let these shems think you're a push over." His voice is soft, encouraging. "Let them see your beautiful eyes."

[writteninblood]

The sudden addition of horse and rider to his attentions caught Sorrel unexpected and his first, very first and foremost instinct, was to be more afraid of the Seeker than the Bear. It made enough sense in his head; of course the bear would only kill him because it was what bears did. What humans did, what chantry humans did to wandering elven mages, caught away from their clans, was very, very different.

So, he startled away from Aleron, looking up with wide, frightened eyes at the proffered hand, uncomprehending of the offer-- or perhaps, its sincerity. And then he ran. If the bear wanted a meal, it was going to have to choose one of them, and a horse had a lot more meat on it than an elf.

[writteninblood]

"I don't think I need to let anyone see my beautiful anything right now, thanks," Sorrel managed not to grit his teeth, and was a little proud of that, not realizing that accepting Cyril's compliment without real comment had probably broadcast his distress more clearly than snapping might have, "I'm not you, I can't just smile at everything and win it over."

Although, technically, nothing bad had happened yet. He took a deep breath and tried to straighten his spine a little. It didn't help the anxious, white-knuckled tension much, but he did look less furtive.

[samahl]

Cyril didn't seem to mind that Sorrel was snapping at him. Instead, he just rubbed the mage's back encouragingly and then pulled back to give him some space.

"What is bothering you? Maybe I can help you overcome that."

[writteninblood]

At the touch of contact, Sorrel closed his eyes, let the tension ease, if only for that breath.

"It's... been a hard couple of months, that's all," He smiled for Cyril, after all, green eyes and all, scar winding across one cheek like an empty riverbed, "I'll tell you later, yeah?"