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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"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.

"Easy, easy."

He lifts up his hands placatingly, though he doesn't imagine that's going to do much overall to stem her anger. Lot of fire in this one. Hopefully that didn't bite her in the ass before all was said and done.

"I'm not a mage, so honestly? I'm not the one to ask. Some mages were fine living that way, even support the idea of the Circles and what they do. Some...well, they were just as pissed as you are. In the end, a lot of shit went down and the mages voted for independence. Templars didn't like that. So for a while, it was open warfare between the two..."

Bull nods toward a neighboring hill, where the charred remains of a house's framing still stand, bones of what had been there before.

"...and places like this still bear the scars."

At the very least, Hermione is smart enough not to mouth off to someone, say, Bull-sized, especially given the fact that her magic doesn't seem as strong as it should be here. So while she'll gladly argue over this whole mage business as fiercely as she had the house-elves business back home, she'll use logic and common sense and sound reasoning to make her case and save the seething name-calling for behind the scenes.

Though she's scowling up at him as though he doesn't have a two-foot height advantage and Merlin only knows how much of a weight advantage on her, Hermione glances over at the hill he points out, the tiniest bit of that fire going out. "Are you saying that people who aren't mages or templars got mixed up in things?" she asks, voice just a touch softer. She seems to think about it for a moment before looking back up at Bull, expression hardening again. "All the mages wanted was freedom. The templars should have respected that. I can't say whether the mages are perfectly innocent in everything, but if one of them is more at fault-...."

She cuts herself off, then. This is all sounding painfully political, and she really shouldn't get herself involved when she doesn't know the whole story or whether Bull has friends among the templars. If spun the right way, the Death Eaters could have come off as sympathetic heroes campaigning for the magical community finally breaking out of the shadows. No one is a villain in their own story, after all.

Arms crossed tightly over her chest, she closes her eyes and lets out a long, harsh breath. "Sorry," she mutters. "This is just... a sensitive subject for me."

"Yeah. I'm getting that."

But the look he levels at her says he doesn't blame her for that. "Guessing I'd have the same luck in your world," he continues. "People'd think I was a monster or something like that. It's not like some don't here. Least you've got the ability to hide in plain sight, if you want. Feel out the way things are here."

He still had the suspicion she'd end up involved, somehow. There was a real fire in her, a passion for justice and fairness that seemed completely at odds with the way things actually worked. He could admire that spirit, and worry about it too.

"You don't have to just take my word for it, you know. There'll be a lot of people to talk to at the keep. Might give you a better view of the landscape. And if you want people to vent with over drinks, the Chargers'd be glad to have you for a round or two. Got a mage of our own, Dalish." Bull's lips quirk upwards. "She's an elf, so her view on the whole thing's a bit...unique."

Shit. Wait until someone told Hermione about the elves.

Though she's sure that isn't his intention, bringing up the fact that he doesn't have the option to hide who or what he is makes Hermione feel bad for her little uproar. Especially since he's right; Bull can't exactly take in a show at the West End, and not just because he likely wouldn't be able to fit into any of the seats.

"The magical world would be much more quick to accept you than the non-magical world," she offers, as though it's any help whatsoever. "Maybe not a few months ago, but we're much better now. Or getting there, at least."

The thought of talking this sort of thing out with people who would be better able to explain the situation is a little heartening, though there's still a part of her that wants to ask who's in charge and how could she schedule an appointment to see them and what sort paperwork would she have to gather to get a proper petition in motion to set things right. But she's beginning to get the idea that things don't quite work that way here, and while that's frustrating to no end, she really should be worrying about how to get home. Maybe there's someone she can talk to at Skyhold that can shed some light on that particular issue.

"Thank you," she tells him, making a valiant effort to take the edge out of both her voice and her expression as she forces a tiny smile onto her face. The smile easily grows, though, when he mentions Dalish. "You're friends with an elf? That's lovely. I'd like to go into promoting rights for elves when I graduate; and others too, of course, but elves seem to have had such a terrible time of things throughout the years, despite being so powerful." But wait-.... "Dalish is a mage? That means... there are some elves who can't practice magic?"

Wait until someone tells Hermione everything about the elves.

"Huh." And Bull snorts at that, almost looking amused. You know. In case it were funny, and not just sort of a sad commentary on humanity. "Guess elves get the short end of the stick no matter what world they're in."

Of course, they weren't exactly viewed as equal under the Qun, either. But they had a place, a purpose. He thinks of Gatt, who would have spent the rest of his life as a slave, keeping his master 'company', and who struggled with the Qun but still had a place far preferable to living in an alienage, or as a servant to some lord or another.

"Yeah. I mean, the story goes elves used to all have magic, way back when. They were immortal, too. Then shit went south, their empire collapsed, and now? They're more or less the same as anyone else. Sometimes they get mages crop up, most of the time not. Just as well. The ones living out in the wilds don't have a lot of ways of dealing with anyone who goes rogue or gets possessed. That's how Dalish ended up with us. Few too many mages in her clan, and she got kicked out."

Bull jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

"...this is gonna be a recurring theme. Just so you know."

Congratulations, Bull. You've just unlocked Hermione's true passion: talking about elves and how unfairly they're treated and how awesome they are and elves in general.

She's happy to listen to anything Bull can tell her about elves and their history, but he doesn't exactly leave off on a high note. More than a little aghast, she starts for a moment before asking, "So they just... kicked her out? Because she's a mage?" That frown returns as she looks down, feeling a little sick.

"But... what about her family? Her friends? They just turned their backs on her because she happens to be able to use magic?" Granted, she supposes there is a fair amount of danger in keeping an untrained mage around, more so than an untrained witch or wizard, but even then, wouldn't setting up magic schools be simpler?

"I don't-... don't understand. It sounds so cruel."

"It's not the nicest thing in the world, but you got to understand. The elves that live out in the wilds? They don't have numbers to keep them safe. If one of their own turns, either the clan has to put them down or they get wiped out."

They're survivors. Just like everyone has to be. If it comes down to the one or the many, it's not a difficult decision to make.

"Some find other clans that don't have a mage of their own. Others get picked up by templars and end up in Circles. Some...well." Hermione looks crestfallen enough. He doesn't have to outline the grizzly details, not really.

And he's definitely not bringing up what the Qunari do with their mages.

"But it's not like that for all mages. Have Dorian tell you about the mages back where he's from, in Tevinter. They pretty much run things, top to bottom. Course, the rest of the world kind of hates their guts, especially the elves, but..." His hands gesture in a 'win some, lose some' gesture."

The look on her face shows exactly what Hermione thinks of having to "put someone down" for the sake of the rest of a clan. She's lucky in that she's never had to make a decision like that despite all of the danger she's faced over the years, but that doesn't make it any easier to imagine the effect such a thing might have on a person.

By the time he stops talking, she almost feels like she might cry or start yelling again. It's hard to tell at this point, especially considering the existing stressors of having been dropped in a strange world and almost eaten by bears.

"But-... but how can they learn to use their magic if they just get thrown aside like that? Doesn't that just make it easier for them to get possessed if they're left on their own? It not only puts them in danger, but anyone who happens across them! Why not just have a place where they can go and learn about magic and how to control it and... and someone can counsel them if things start getting hard? You can't just act like someone you love has never existed because you've reached your quota of mages!"

She pauses, sniffling a bit before adding, "Does this Tevinter place at least have enough foresight to teach their children how to properly use their magic rather than just run them out?"

Edited 2016-02-09 00:37 (UTC)

"You kidding me? Mage bloodlines are like gold, up there. Whole families exist just to keep the magic strong. Of course, you gotta be born to the right family to get anywhere. And you got to be willing to do just about anything to stay there. Otherwise you're pretty much a stepping stool for everyone else."

He'd seen more than his share of the Imperium, and his regard for the place was clear.

"If you're not a mage? Forget about having any real station in Tevinter society. You're lucky if you make it without having to sell yourself into slavery. And trust me, you don't even want to know what they do to elves."

Hermione sniffs a little again, though this time it's more of a derisive sound. "It sounds like some of the pureblood wizarding families. Doesn't that result in a lot of inbreeding?" If she sounds just a touch judgmental, that's because she is. More than a touch, perhaps.

Though she knows she's going to regret asking and feels just a little sick at the prospect, she raises her eyes to meet Bull's and quietly asks, "What do they do to the elves?"

"Wouldn't doubt it. Would explain some of them, that's for damn sure."

Finally Bull cracks something like a smile, though it fades quickly as she presses on. She had to ask, didn't she? He's quiet a long time, jaw working silently as he wonders how to explain.

"...well, most of them are slaves, for a start. Here, they get mistreated, sure. Shoved into alienage slums and treated like second-class citizens, but in Tevinter? They're property. A magister might decide he needs the upper hand on a rival and kill a half-dozen for a ritual, without a second thought. Or he might decide he needs company."

The way that word is stressed is purposeful, as is the look that follows. He's not elaborating there. She doesn't want to hear it, even if she asks.

"Took out one of the Vint bastards once on a raid back in Seheron. Elf he brought with him to keep him occupied? Eight years old. And no one blinks an eye. His property, his right."

In her defense, he could have replied with a simple, You don't want to know, and that would have been the end of it. All right, maybe not the end, since she'd never liked not knowing something, but at the very least, it could have spared her the immediate trauma.

She almost thinks he's going to do just that, but then he finally speaks up. The slavery bit... that's hard enough to swallow, but at least it isn't unfamiliar, given that that's the fate of most house-elves, no matter how hard their wizarding families try to pretty it up. She doesn't know the term "alienage," but it certainly doesn't sound pleasant, especially not paired off with the rest of that sentence.

But then he goes on about ritual sacrifice and-... and company. And.... "Eight years old?" She doesn't realize she's breathing the word out, just as much as she doesn't realize that she staggers back a few steps, the news like a harsh blow. It doesn't make sense, not with the image of elves Hermione has in her mind - who would want to do that with a-...? But the who or the what or the why doesn't matter. However the cards fall, it's still so revolting that she has to literally force herself not to get sick all over the snow.

Bull's form begins to waver, and she turns away from him when she realizes that the tears are winning out. Crying in front of her friends is one thing, but doing it in front of a stranger....

"Why is it that whenever things finally get put right, we stumble across something else that's so wrong?" She doesn't believe in fate, but there comes a point where coincidence and luck join forces just long enough to make something like that seem tangible. Maybe there's a reason she's found herself here.

"People need to start blinking. Blinking and talking and yelling and doing. No world should have to go on like this."

He lets her vent, lets it roil off of her, the disgust and the horror of it. That's what Thedas is, at its core. Things happen here that shouldn't, that turn the stomach, and there's a great deal more and worse than she knows.

But her response is a cry for battle, taking on the bulk of those wrongs head-on. Bull doesn't much believe in fate, but he believes in purpose. Absolutely. And some people's purpose could very well be helping to shape the world in this state of flux it's currently in.

Finally he makes his way over, and one hand rests on the back of her shoulder. "The Inquisition's working to right some of those wrongs," he adds, voice a good deal gentler. "Not everyone wants to see the world this way. Might be they could use another voice doing some yelling."

She hadn't even wanted to get on the front lines of her own war, when it had come to it. She'd stayed back, researching and hiding and doing all she could to avoid the actual fighting. But she hadn't been able to do that forever, and while she can't say that she'd particularly enjoyed being betrayed and captured and tortured - sometimes all within the span of a few hours - it had at least helped ready her to join the fight upon knowing that her cause had been just.

This wasn't her fight. And it wasn't her cause.

But it is now.

Glancing back at Bull and really seeing him for the first time, she takes in his scars, the patch over his eye, and all the other signs that he's seen and done too much in a world that deserves more than what it has. There's too much wrong here, too many things that just aren't fitting together the way they should, too many people being hurt. She can put off her exams for just a little bit more.

"I'm good at yelling. But then, I think you've guessed at that."

He sees it in her eyes, that resolve as it settles into place. She's got a will of steel, and Rifter or not, the Inquisition is sorely in need of people like that.

"Worse places to start."

That scarred face twists with a small smirk as he steps back, lets her have her space again to compose herself. "Me? I'm good at hitting things. Turns out there's a lot of people needing to get hit. We all do what we can."

And, because it seems like she could use a silver lining...

"He's alright, you know. That elf kid. All grown up, and doing just fine."

She still feels a little like being sick, but she swallows it back and tries for a smile that doesn't look too much like a wince. "I'm sure you're good at other things, too," she tells him as she wipes at her tears. Although she doesn't deny that he's clearly very, very good at hitting things. It seems like a useful skill around here.

Trying for another, wider smile at the mention of the elf boy, she asks, "Is he your friend, too?" She isn't sure she wants to meet him, really, since she couldn't promise that she wouldn't stare or cry or just hug him and refuse to leave his side, even if "all grown up" means he's actually older than her.

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