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

[bookish_lioness]

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."

[qunari]

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."

[bookish_lioness]

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."

[qunari]

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."

[bookish_lioness]

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.

[qunari]

"Yeah. He's still up north, though. Don't think we're likely to see him down here. But we still talk." A quiet sigh lifts those shoulders as he turns that direction, as though they might actually see Par Vollen from here. "He's got a lot of anger in him, but that's not exactly a shock. He's doing well, pushing past anger to purpose. That's the hardest part."

He lets her sniffle, push the tears past, before gesturing onwards down the hill. "Reminds me of you, though. Real outspoken. Got a temper, too. Wound up calling him 'Gaat'...which. Would probably make more sense if you knew what gaat-lok was," he added after a moment, chuckling. "Explosive powder. Dangerous stuff if you don't handle with care."

[bookish_lioness]

Hermione follows his gaze, even if she doesn't know what she'd be looking for. Given the snow and the unfamiliarity of her surroundings, he could well have been referencing the nearest hillside as much as anything beyond it. "Anger seems fairly common around here," she points out, knowing full well that she hasn't exactly been a barrel of laughter since her arrival.

She takes a deep breath before what he says catches up to her, leading her to chuckle dryly. "My temper isn't that bad. I just... get a little riled up sometimes, that's all." She's only sent attack birds after Ron once, and that's impressive, considering how often he sticks his foot in his mouth. "A few well-placed explosions can make a world of a difference, so long as you don't end up blowing yourself up."