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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The nicer he was to her, the less sense this all seemed to make. But so long as she wasn't in danger of being mauled or eaten, she could deal with the cognitive dissonance of the imposing yet gentle... bull. If that's what he was. It was what he wanted to be called, if nothing else.

Absently rubbing at her arm, she glanced back as well to make sure there weren't any nasty surprises on the horizon. Deciding against dawdling, she nodded absently, looking up at him and even managing to crack a small smile at his show of humor.

"I didn't know there were camps around. Or much of anything. Are you a... soldier? Is Skyhold some sort of base camp?"

"It's a keep, deep in the Frostback Mountains." One hand gestures in the general vicinity of the mountain range, though the hills continue on as far as the eye can see. "Sort of the base of operations for the Inquisition, though."

There was a pause at that question, innocent as it had seemed. A wry smile tugged across his lips. Are you a soldier?

If she knew the half of it.

But that's not a story for now. Maybe not ever. Depended on how things went, he supposed. "I'm a mercenary. Lead a group called the Chargers. We joined up with the Inquisition a few months back. Pay's good, and the fighting never gets dull."

There was so much wrong with what he said that she didn't even know where to begin questioning it. Frostback Mountains? Inquisition? Mercenary? She wondered if she looked as incredulous as she felt the more he "explained" things, but she was at least polite enough to hold her tongue for now. Let him take her back to camp or somewhere where someone could look at her hand and explain what was wrong with it. Then she could question everything that came out of his mouth.

"It sounds exciting," she said levelly, though she probably would have been more likely to call it unscrupulous if not for the fact that she was extremely dependent on him at the moment. And the fact that, despite all appearances, he'd been rather decent to her. He hadn't come out to fight the bears simply because he'd wanted to fight, after all, since he'd left with her once she'd started running.

"I'm sorry, but... I'm not anywhere near the U.K. anymore, am I?"

"Never even heard of it."

She'd picked up on the fact pretty quickly, however. Seemed like a bright girl. She could probably take a little blunt truth and run with it, and Bull let out a quiet huff as they moved.

"Truth is, you're probably not even in the same world. Don't ask me how that works, because I can't begin to put my head around all this magical crap, but the short of it is you got dropped here from wherever it is you come from. And no one's quite sure how to get you all back to where you came from."

One hand gestures ahead of them, towards some unknown destination. "So, instead of leaving you to fend for yourselves, the Inquisition's offered sanctuary to anyone the rifts spit out into our world. You get room and board, food, protection, and a way home as soon as they work one out."

Never even heard of it.

Hermione could have accepted that she'd somehow Apparated to some distant magical community in Europe where there were a little-known race of humanoid bulls and who had an Inquisition instead of a Ministry. It sounded a little daunting, but she would have been able to handle it. To be tossed into some strange land where the first person she'd met wouldn't know the British Isles from sea algae was something else entirely, and she had to fight that sick feeling in the pit of her stomach all over again.

Rather than risk hyperventilating, Hermione took a few moments to breathe slowly as everything Bull told her threatened to suffocate her. "I was dreaming," she pointed out. "I remember going to sleep after studying and I... there were Death Eaters, so I knew it couldn't be real, and then there was this. How could I go from a dream to whatever this is...?"

Worrying at her lower lip, she told him, "You called it magic, but magic doesn't work like this. I'd be more inclined to think that I was hallucinating. My parents did suggest I see a therapist after the war, so this could be all in my own head."

She was rambling, and brushing aside everything Bull told her, and that wasn't exactly the most cordial thing to do when he'd been so helpful to her. So she looked up at him, trying not to feel so tiny despite him having a laughably significant height advantage over her, and tried for another small smile. "Sorry. I don't mean to write you off as some fever dream. I should be thankful you helped me with those bears. I am. Thankful. So thank you."

Bull shrugged, smirking faintly. "Eh. Not the weirdest thing I've fought off."

He wasn't about it take her disbelief personally. It was as natural a reaction as they came. She'd figure out what was real soon enough, and pushing her to do so wouldn't achieve much. Nothing positive, anyway.

"So...magic isn't connected to dreams, and the Fade, where you come from?" Not exactly his area of expertise, magic, but he couldn't help but be a little curious. They were still trying to figure out how all this connected together, after all.

"What's the Fade?" she asked curiously. "Magic is just... it just is. It's a natural force that some people are born being able to wield and some aren't. The men are called wizards, the women witches; those who can't use magic are Muggles. It... gets a bit complicated after that. Magical families don't always have magical children, and sometimes Muggle families have magical children. I'm Muggle-born myself, so I spent the first eleven years of my life not even knowing that magic exists. Once I learned otherwise, I read every book on the subject I could get my hands on."

Pausing for a moment to think it over, she murmured, "But I've never heard of anything called the Fade. And dreams are only connected to magic insofar as Divination goes, and that's a dodgy subject all on its own."

"The Fade is...shit. This'd be a lot easier for a mage to explain."

He gestured vaguely in the air, brow furrowing heavily. "The gist of it is, there are two worlds. This one, the waking world, where everything's real and tangible and what have you. Then there's the Fade, where spirits and demons and abstract concepts hang around. Mages tap into their power by calling on the Fade, and supposedly it's where you go when you dream."

One eyebrow cocks higher. "Thing is, these rifts people have been coming through? Also lead to the Fade. You said you were dreaming when you came here."

For a moment, she couldn't help wondering if he meant that the Fade is, at least figuratively, shit, but then she realized he was having difficulty explaining it. It sounded as though he was trying to say that the Fade was some sort of underworld, but then he brought up abstract concepts, and going there when you dream, and... well, that just sounded too dangerous to be a normal part of life.

"I was, but... everyone can't just go off into some strange abstract dimension when they fall asleep, can they? And demons and spirits can't reside in the same space as all of these dreamers. It doesn't make any sense. Wouldn't that mean that everyone has access to these so-called powers, and wouldn't the demons be able to hurt us while we sleep?"

The more questions she asked, the more pained he looked. "Everyone doesn't. Qunari don't. Neither do dwarves. And as far as I know, demons are only really interested in mages. They can stay...I don't know. 'Aware' in dreams, I guess. Like I said, you'd be better off talking to one of the mages back at Skyhold."

Bull's nostrils flared. He could appreciate her being curious about how it all worked, but he was definitely not the one best equipped to answer her questions. The bulk of them would just have to wait, it appeared.

"I don't know what Qunari are," she replied simply, perfectly oblivious. "And by dwarves, I assume you mean...?" Always one to try and be as sensitive as possible, she held up her hand about waist-high, even if she had no idea whether he was referring to the sorts of dwarves from fairy tales or actual individuals with dwarfism. She couldn't think of a polite way to ask after that, so she just let it be for now.

"But what you're saying is that this only applies to what you call mages? Would... I be considered a mage because I can use magic, or is there more to it than that?" She didn't much like the idea that she'd be have to learn to protect herself from demons whenever she slept, of all things.

"Pretty sure it'd be all the same to anyone you came across here, regardless of where your magic came from. So yeah, I'd say so."

And then he chuckled, a low rumbling sound before shaking his head. "As for Qunari...you're looking at one."

Not that a Rifter would have known that, true. Still, first encounters with people who'd never met a Qunari before were...well. Remarkably like meeting those same sort of people here.

She did seem a good deal less afraid of him, though.

It was easy not to be afraid of someone when he'd just rescued you from a pair of enraged bears. It was still a bit of a strain to look up at his impressive height and take in his features, but she'd befriended giants and hippogriffs; she should be able to handle a... Qunari (apparently) that meant her no harm.

"Oh. So there are others like you? With the horns, I mean?" Cringing a little, she added, "Sorry, I don't mean to be insensitive. We just don't have anyone that looks like you back home."

"Yeah. I get that a lot, actually."

Still, it wasn't about to hurt his feelings. Nice of her to think of them, though. Bull simply shrugged, continuing onward through the brush. They should be reaching the main road before long. All they'd really have to worry about is the odd bandit or two then, if that.

"Most of my people live to the north. If you're not from Northern Tevinter or Seheron, you probably wouldn't see many of us. But some come south for one reason or another. Me? Found out you can carve out a reputation as a professional ass-kicker pretty easily when you look like I do."

Some people were more sensitive than others. Bull didn't strike her as the sensitive sort, but still, it was better to be safe than sorry. Especially when being safe made sure you didn't end up on the wrong end of an axe.

"I don't even know if I'm in what you'd consider the north or south right now," Hermione admits with a small, brief chuckle. "Though... do you mean that many Qunari are in your profession, or are you, um... bigger than most?"

Because he was big. Really big. The only person she'd ever known that was bigger was Hagrid, and he was half-giant.

"Seen bigger. Not many, but they're out there."

Her chuckle is contagious, it seems, and Bull's lips twist upwards. "But yeah. Most who come this way are built bigger than your average human. So mercenary work's common enough. You'll get a few who'd rather be merchants, but people assume you're dangerous when you come this size to begin with."

Not without reason, admittedly.

As they walk, Bull gestures to the mountainous hills around them. "Where you're at now is called the Hinterlands. You can probably get someone to show you where everything else in in relation on a map, once we make camp, but we're definitely pretty far south. South as it gets without heading into the wilds. Not much in the way of civilization that way."

"So there aren't many humans around here, is what you mean?" Hermione would almost prefer stumbling into a camp filled with people who looked more or less like Bull; if he were the only one like himself in the immediate vicinity, it would get frightfully easy to stare. She wouldn't want to be rude or have him get the wrong idea.

She's about to ask him a question when something he says jumps out at her. "You mean... these aren't what you would consider the wilds?" Looking around and making sure that no, there are no cars or planes or signs of sentient life in the immediate vicinity, she remarks, "I didn't really take this for much in the way of civilation."

"City girl, huh? Ferelden doesn't really have a lot of those. Denerim might be the only place in the country that you could call a 'city' with a straight face. But you've got villages here and there, usually clustered around whatever castle happens to be in the area."

What follows sounds suspiciously like a snort. "And yeah, it's mostly humans down here. Few elves, handful of dwarves. No one's going to stare unless you start doing magic. People around here get real jumpy when mages are concerned."

The first question Hermione wants to ask is what year is it, since even wizarding communities have cities, or at least have small factions living secretly within larger cities. What he's describing sounds more like a fiefdom than it does any form of modern living... even if she realizes that "modern" is sort of a relative term.

Instead, she asks, "Wait... so people - non-magical people - live among elves and dwarves and such, but it's magic they stare at?" Considering that elves and dwarves are considered magical beings and the average Muggle is designed to try and explain away shows of magic with logic, that all strikes her as somewhat backwards. Delightful, for the elves and dwarves, and not entirely inconvenient for her, but still backwards. "I'm used to hiding my magic; it's just that magical creatures aren't always well-regarded even among the magical community back home. Not that I agree with that, but it's a bit of a different sort of mindset. Non-magical people just assume there is no magic in the world."

"I wouldn't say elves and dwarves are well-regarded, but people are used to seeing them. And trust me. They know magic exists. Scares most people shitless."

And it wouldn't be a great way to introduce her to life in Thedas by starting with some village or another deciding the girl needed to be driven out, or have some approximation of templars called after her. He wasn't all that comfortable with magic himself, but the girl wasn't in danger from possession or a pique of fury any time soon, from the look of it.

"Doesn't help that there was a mage rebellion recently. A lot of people here got caught in the middle, and they're more than happy to throw blame at the nearest available scapegoat. So...maybe hold onto the 'hiding magic' thing until we get to Skyhold."

"... well, I suppose that's a good enough reason to keep the International Statute of Secrecy," Hermione mumbles under her breath. It's one thing for people to know about magic, and another thing entirely to expect them all to react well to it. She'd just hoped that wouldn't be the case.

"What are these mages rebelling against? Are they dangerous? Or is it just some kind of misunderstanding? And if people are so afraid of mages, why would those at Skyhold take in someone who can use magic? Especially in my case, since I'm sure my magic must have some core differences from yours, at least insofar as presentation, since I'm fairly sure magical principles should be more or less uniform, all things considered." If Bull hasn't caught on that questions are going to be a constant until she becomes more familiar with her surroundings, he'll learn soon enough.

Luckily, he's patient. Anyone dropped in an unfamiliar world was bound to have questions, and while she was asking questions? She wasn't freaking out or setting anything on fire. So just as well for her to have a point of focus that wasn't how very screwed she might be.

He can handle a few questions.

"Here's the thing you have to understand. Here? Magic is tied to that other world, the Fade. It's attractive to demons on the other side that want to find a way into our world. They do that by possessing mages. It usually goes downhill there."

Pausing on the top of a grassy hill, Bull lets his axe lower with a huff, eye scanning the horizon for signs of the camp nearby. Still a ways, but not too much farther. Far enough to warrant a rest, however, and there seemed to be no more bears sniffing around.

"Even if it weren't for that, most people don't trust anyone who can light their barn on fire if they get cross. So, if you found our your kid was a mage, you'd give them up to the templars and they'd get shipped off to the nearest Circle of Magi. They grow up with their own kind, practice and learn, and stay under guard. Great idea, in theory. In practice? Didn't work out so well."

Oh, Hermione's definitely thinking about how screwed she might be. Luckily, this hadn't happened a few months before, or else she would have been just as likely to attack Bull on suspicion that he was a Snatcher as she would have run away because clearly he was working with Voldemort. Both would have been terribly presumptuous and flat-out rude of her (and possibly would have seen to it that she'd end up on the wrong end of his axe), so while there's no such thing as an ideal time to be whisked away to another world, this is certainly a better time.

She stops when he does, pondering over his response and realizing that it doesn't really answer any of her questions. "But are the mages working with the demons? I can't imagine wanting to be possessed, so it doesn't sound as though they're at fault..."

Hearing about the Circles makes her blink up at Bull, as it had almost sounded like the arrangement the wizarding community has with Hogwarts until she picks up on some sort of subtext. She fervently hopes that he'd just phrased something about that whole thing in a less than ideal way. "Wait-... when you say that children are sent away to learn magic, do you mean that they're kept there? Surely not forever, though? We have holidays at Hogwarts where we can go back home to our families, and after we graduate we-.... And aren't templars knights?" She knows Muggle schools have security guards, but that sounds a little ridiculous.

"Working with? Not usually. Not unless you've got a mage who's just that thirsty for power. But demons have a way of getting inside your head, seeing what you want, twisting it to suit their needs."

There was an obvious shudder, followed by a quick shake-out of his shoulders. The repulsion was evident. "Damn creepy, is what it is," he mutters, nose wrinkling.

"Anyway...the risk of a weak mage falling to possession or turning to blood magic is a big one. Might not be where you're from. But here? Entire villages can get wiped out in the blink of an eye. So whether or not the mages get a holiday to visit families doesn't really worry a lot of people, considering. The Circles become their homes." His nostrils flare in a brief snort. "Depending on the Circle you get sent to, you might be allowed out. For very specific reasons. But for the most part, you're expected to live out your days inside those walls. You decide that's not for you, you go rogue and try to escape or step out of line, and you get dealt with by the templars."

She wrinkles her nose at Bull's explanation about demons. Hermione isn't as well up on demonology as she is other subjects, mostly because the Dark Arts has always seemed like an absolutely abhorrent subject that was only worth learning about insofar as defending oneself from it. But demons are only a group of magical creatures, such as grindylows, that are irritating at best and dangerous at worst. They're not so... subversive.

"They sound terrible," she breathes out, not feeling quite so bad about it when even Bull is clearly reviled by the thought.

The more he tells her about circles, the more Hermione bristles, and by the end of it she looks as though she might just explode. "So they're prisoners?!" she blurts out, obviously disgusted by this every bit as much as she is about demons. "But they're just people! People who can use magic! What's the point of them learning to control it if they're expected to spend their entire lives trapped within some... some... 'Circle'?! Who would honestly live like that and think it's for the best? And how do the templars decide that someone is 'out of line'? And what do you mean, they're 'dealt with'?!"

If Bull had any hope the questions would end soon, he'd clearly been mistaken.

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