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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She hesitates when she sees him looking at her hands, and though she wants to keep them hidden, she instead turns her left hand over, letting him see the mark on her palm. She'd noticed it some time ago, even if she still had no idea what it was.

"I'm from... well, England, originally, but I was in my dormitory in Scotland when I-... got here. I still don't know how. I still think I might be sleepwalking. But after almost having my eyes pecked out by a dozen birds, I don't know how much longer I could think that."

Meeting his eyes imploringly, she allowed herself to be hopeful since he seemed to know where to look and softly asked, "I don't suppose you could help me find my way back, could you?"

His face falls a bit, but it's clearly a look of sympathy rather than anything else. "I am very sorry, but no, I can't. We haven't been able to figure out how to send people who come through the Rifts back yet." He does sounds sincere with his apology, even though he knows none of it is his fault.

"Let's get this bird and then I can take back with me. I work for an organization called the Inquisition. We've been trying to discover how to send people back home."

England and Scotland are both meaningless words to him, so he assumes it's the name of countries or villages. 'Scotland' sounds a bit like something they'd call a city in the Free Marches but he bets that knowledge is of no help to her.

His response only raises more questions, and Hermione does her best not to look thoroughly frustrated. Rather than ask after who "we" are or what the "Rifts" are, she tries to be proactive, at least for now. Otherwise, she might just end up overloading her brain with more than she can properly handle and end up panicking.

"The Inquisition?" she asks. "I-... that doesn't sound particularly... friendly." Granted, the only other famous Inquisition she can think of off the top of her head hadn't been particularly friendly, and she can't judge based on that. After all, this person - whose name she doesn't know, she just realizes - certainly seems friendly enough, and he's part of this so-called Inquisition.

"Sorry, I'm Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger. Thank you. For helping me. And for not shooting any of the birds."

"I'm Cyril," he offers with a small, courteous smile. "And I'm sure our spymaster would hate for me to injure one of her birds. I was only going to try to scare them away from you."

He focuses then on her comment about the organization. "The people of the Inquisition aren't all friendly, but we are trying to do good. We've been working to figure out the magic behind the Rifts that have dragged people from their homes, and we've been seeking a way to defeat the monster that created them. I'm not sure 'friendly' is the right word, but we are good."

Then, with some concern. "Does that word mean something else in England?"

"Spymaster?" For some reason, all she can think of is Professor Snape; ravens would certainly have suited him. She wants to ask if he's at war - why else would he need a spymaster, after all? - but decides against it for the time being. He needs to find a particular bird, and she'll help him as best as she can.

He speaks of England as though it's some far and distant place, one that he's entirely unfamiliar with. Between that and his appearance and the glowing mess in her hand, Hermione can't help worrying over just how far from home she might be.

"The Inquisition I know about was known for using torture and other harsh measures to combat heresy," she explains, cautiously peering at the flock of birds now busily pecking at her discarded trail mix. "Somehow, though, I think my version of history might be a bit different than yours."

Pointing out the bird with the message tied to its leg, she looks back up at Cyril and asks, "Just where am I, exactly?"

His brow lifts at talk of torture and heresy. "That's terrible. I doubt many elves would be happy to join if that was the case. Many of my kind don't believe in the same religion that humans do. We'd be the first lined up for that sort of treatment. I assure you the Inquisition here would do no such thing."

He finds the bird and points it out to her. He doesn't want to startle it by making a big scene, though he wonders if they can both go around it to get it. For now, though, he just wants to watch it and answer her questions.

"You are in Thedas, but more specifically the Hinterlands, just outside of Redcliffe."

She perks up immediately at the mention of elves. Sorry, Cyrus, this is a Thing for her.

"Elves-... you're an elf?" She's almost beaming, needing to cover her mouth with her hand so as to not look so inappropriately enchanted by the idea. "Sorry, it's just-... I knew you looked a little different from a human, but you look nothing like the elves I know back home. They're much smaller, and-... well, they're not treated very well, as a whole. At least, they didn't used to be! We're getting better about it, and I hope to help with that at some point after I graduate. I started the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare a few years ago; it didn't quite catch on, but the acronym probably didn't help. I'll have to think of something catchier."

Oh for-... she's rambling again. Shifting a little and trying not to look as sheepish as she feels, she murmurs, "Sorry. It's an important topic for me."

Clearing her throat, she watches the raven, though it's clear she's in no hurry to get too close to any of the birds at this point. "I've never heard of any of those places. How did I even get here?"

As she goes on about elves he finds himself smiling. He finds her enthusiasm endearing. He wants to answer all of her questions now, raven or no raven.

"Why don't I start with how you got here, hm?" he suggests. "Very recently, an evil creature caused an explosion which tore a hole in the sky. From that, rifts appeared. Rifts are..." A pause, as he considers how to describe this. "They're sort of windows into the Fade and other realms. Shortly after the Inquisition closed the major Breach in the sky, men and women from other realms began to fall from the Rifts. I'm afraid that's what happened to you, and that's why your hand is glowing. You have a bit of the magic inside of you now."

If nothing else, Hermione's just glad that he doesn't take offense to the way she goes on about elves. She doesn't mean to put them under the microscope and exclaim upon them in any sort of clinical way, especially not when it's obvious he's a very different type of elf altogether.

She tries to follow what he says, but it isn't easy, especially since she's had a particularly harrowing sort of day. "And the Fade is... what? A portal of some kind? No, the rifts are the portals, so the Fade must be some kind of realm. Is it named because it's special, or do all realms have their own names here? And-... what does having a different kind of magic inside me than what I usually have mean? Is it dangerous? Is there a way to take it out and just go back to where I belong?"

"The Fade is where spirits reside. Up until the first person fell from the Rifts, we were unaware there were any realms other than the Fade and our physical realm. I suppose you should be the one to give yours name, since it is your home."

The questions about if the magic is dangerous or not makes him cringe a little. "We haven't been able to find a way to safely remove the marks, nor have we been able to send our visitors back home. As far as the danger... I'm afraid I'm not a magical expert. It might be best to ask someone who specializes in that sort of thing."

"So it's the Underworld?" Hermione asks dubiously. "That seems... ominous." She's quiet for a moment before saying, "My planet is called Earth. That's as good of a name for it as anything, I suppose, if this really is an entirely different world."

Though she knows he isn't the same as the elves she knows back home, she still finds herself blurting out, "Elves don't know magic here? Sorry, that's presumptuous of me; I just meant... the elves where I'm from are all very powerful in terms of their ability to use magic, even if they don't use it that often. Though I suppose they're not all automatically experts in the Dark Arts, which is what I assume all this is." With that, she gestures with her hand, though the thing she's gesturing to is her hand.

He isn't sure what she means by 'underworld' but he's distracted by the questions after that to dwell on it.

"Oh, our mages do. They're rather powerful with it. I'm no mage, though. I'm an archer." Then, after a moment. "The Rift magic isn't dark. It's actually a very bright light green."

She's not entirely sure if he's joking or not by that last comment, so she needs a brief moment to keep a straight face as she explains, "By Dark Arts, I mean magic that has corrupt or evil purposes. Killing, torture, necromancy, that sort of thing. It's usually very closely associated with death, so if the Fade is sort of like your version of the Underworld - that is, where people go when they die - then I can only assume that that means there's dark magic involved."

There's another pause as she looks at him curiously before asking, "You really don't have any magic, then? So elves are just another culture, like humanity?" She's genuinely curious, and she can ask him questions about this all day, if he'll let her.

Cyril had been joking, and he's pleased to see that she has to work to not crack a smile. "We are, but we're a very old one," he explains.

Then he thinks about what she's saying. "I think you're wrong in assuming the Fade is evil. There are demons there, but not all spirits are evil. That and I'm not entirely sure that's where we go when we die. It's just where spirits are. They aren't bad or good. They just... are." Then again, he was no expert.

"You'll have to talk to my cousin, Pel. She's a mage, and a very capable one at that. She knows much more about this sort of thing."

"Not evil, but... easily corrupted or manipulated by evil," she explains carefully. "Death in itself isn't evil, after all. It just is. People just have an uneasy feeling about it because it's irreversible, and so unknowable." Except in one case, which is striking Hermione as odd here. "If people don't go to the Fade when they die, then what are the spirits? They're not the same as ghosts?"

Then again, if he doesn't have all the answers, she's not going to hold it against him, especially when he's been more than willing to provide her with what answers he can. "I'd like that, I think. I'm not used to being quite this far out of my depth. At least, not while I'm alone, away from my friends."

"They're spirits," Cyril replied, a little confused by the question. "They're their own entities. Similar to how elves and humans are different." He still wasn't an expert though, so he wasn't sure how better to explain it to her. "Do you not have spirits in England? What of demons?"

Clearly, Hermione would have to be careful about her wording here, since it seems like some things have different meanings. "Well, when people die-... we don't really know what happens, exactly, but sometimes, our souls linger around the Earth, and they're called ghosts, or sometimes spirits. You don't... have those here? Souls or ghosts or anything like that? Spirits are just separate beings?"

Tilting her head a bit curiously, she added, "We have a class of magical creatures known as demons. Grindylows, Kelpies... are they a problem here?"

Cyril raises his brow a bit at that. "Demons here are based on emotions. Rage, Fear, Lust, that sort of thing. And yes, They've become a huge problem. Let's just say that nice men and women such as yourself aren't the only things falling from the Rifts."

Hermione looks positively perplexed by that notion. "Based on emotions? What do you mean? There are some that incite fear and others rage?" She pauses for a moment before realizing, "So the place that I came out of. This... rift. There are demons there?"

"If you traveled through the Fade, then yes. Spirits as well." He frowns a bit at her questions. "I'm sorry I'm not the best at explaining the nature of spirits. There are people involved with the Inquisition who might be able to answer those questions."

She doesn't know what to make of the claims of spirits and demons, since those things mean something very different for her than it does most of the rest of the people in Thedas. As inquisitive as she might be, though, she knows you can't get blood from a stone, and so interrogating him for answers to her questions really isn't going to help anyone.

"I'll have to speak to one of those people, then, if you'll be good enough to make a proper introduction. Thank you for what you were able to answer."

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TEST DRIVE MEME!

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