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

Mary Read | Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag (Rifter!)

[unmans]

[[ ooc; just a note - so this is a lady (who identifies as lady) dressed up as a dude, convincingly enough to fool a lot of pirates for a long time. so just letting you know, pronouns in this will all say her/she, but Mary should look and sound completely like a young man, around teens to early twenties /o/ ]]

bears, bears everywhere;

[ mary does not make a habit of fighting bears. she generally doesn't make a habit of fighting any animals that aren't already set in wanting to take a chunk out of her, but then there's these people, who seem to think the pirate had been one of those dwindling the bear population. particularly, the weird one running around in furs, chasing rams, and claiming he's descended from the damn things, standing in the middle of the path mary'd been trying to take towards the river, so she might be able to board a ship and, hopefully, find her way to the port. apparently, this man isn't taking that story to be true, insisting she's on her way to slay more of his kinsmen. uuugggghhhh. it's fucking cold and she is not equipped for this weather or this landscape or this bullshit. ]

Look, shanker, it ain't my concern if your grandson to a bear or a bilge rat, but if your pox ridden arse ain't moving from my path very shortly, I'll be usin' your balls for fishing lures. [ it trails into a low growl, a bladed mechanism hidden under a sleeve springing forth, at about crotch level, for emphasis. ] Got it, mate?

[aaaand, that's about when a lower, much lower growl sounds from behind her. carefully, slowly, mary tilts to look back over her shoulder, spotting one of the innocent bears looking ready to chow down not 20 feet away. aaaaaw hell. ]

Piss. Chat up the in-laws, why don't you? [ she's muttering, to the man claiming relation to the bears in this area, but when she hears scrapping ice and retreating footfalls, she knows he's already running, before even turning to look after him, snow kicked up in his wake. ] Bloody pillock.

Right then. [ if the bear isn't killed or otherwise dissuaded in the next couple seconds, the assassin will be making a quick dash for the closest tree, scampering her way up nearly as fast as she runs, like she's part monkey. ]

gull & lantern; (mostly the tavern prompt from last tdm ahhh fite me)

Now we are ready to sail for the Horn... Weigh hey, roll and go... [ a voice, low and half mumbled, emits from one of the tables snuggled close to the fire pit, singing something probably unfamiliar to most here, but a shanty Mary could voice in her sleep, these days. the cakes have a nice smell to them, and mary had sampled one here or there, but bake sales aren't really her there. more so, she'd rather be drinking. feels more... normal. she'd be lying to say she doesn't miss home, and the open sea, and the sun baking at her cheeks and chapping her lips, salt water clinging to everything. thedas is an incredible adventure, and a wonder at every turn, but it's felt weird spending so many nights on a soft mattress that doesn't rock to and fro with waves lapping at a hull. ] Our boots and our clothes, boys, are all in the pawn... To be rollicking randy dandy-O...

[ not that mary plans on brooding all night, and she's perfectly capable of making her own buddies to fill the time she's snowed into the tavern. you may catch her later on in the evening, when mary's gotten a lot more tipsy, and made several more friends, she's much more noticeable, standing on a chair and leading a corner of the tavern in a more jaunty sailing tune, one that's only half sung back correctly with her, as she's just taught these men the song a few moments ago. ]

Windy weather, boys, stormy weather, boys, when the wind blows, we're all together, boys! [ a wooden flagon is raised to clink against another man's (probably one of the sailors from the boat she'd taken a job on recently), sloshing ale over the rim, and none of them seem concerned about it as they continue belting along. ] Blow ye winds westerly, blow ye winds, blow, Jolly sou'wester, boys, steady she goes!

[ come hang, get shit faced, hear pirate stories, sing shanties, help mary stumble her way to her room. it's a good time. ]

wildcard;

[[ idk hit me with whatever, i'll do network things too if anyone would be looking for a pirate/sailor/really awesome rogue?? come at me. also, prose or action spam is fine for any of these, i'm easy. ]]

Gull & Lantern

[thelastking]

[ A muted chuckle escapes the strider who lingers nearby. There's nothing like a good song to get the drunkards going, he notes from the bar. With his gaze hidden beneath the thick hood of his cloak, Aragorn watches in amusement as the sailors get up and sing. All this merrymaking puts the ranger at ease but barely.

Aragorn knows better than to put his guard down around this many drunks and cutthroats.]

A mug of ale.

[ He orders quietly as he allows his gaze to drift a little. The ranger focuses his eyes upon the lively chap with the red bandana who've gotten half the tavern in an uproar. Remembering the forgotten days of his youth as a man of the wilds, Aragorn sees a little bit of himself in this cheery lad. While it wasn't often that Aragorn would visit taverns, he used to partake in silliness such as this amongst his fellow rangers.

The little ditty they sing is a catchy one. Catchy enough to lull the strider into song once the barkeep fetches his mug. While he's certainly not a sailor, Aragorn can appreciate the appeal of the sea. ]