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

Aleron Darton | Dragon Age (OC) | Prose or Brackets A-OK

[lifeofendurance]

The world has gone mad. Truly it has. Aleron's horse plods through the snows of the Hinterlands at an even pace. The rider travels with purpose, looking for answers, but he finds them en route as much as he believes he will when he arrives at his destination. Signs of the mages and templars slaughtering each other still mar the landscape which should have been beautiful, if cold, this time of year. Not for the first time, he wonders how things could have come to this. Not for the first time, he blames himself for not having seen the signs when he was in Kirkwall ten years ago.

He travels, not in his Seeker's armor, but in a new set. It still gleams with polish without the nicks and scuffs one would expect of a more seasoned set. A gift from his mother while he escorted her back to her family's home in Orlais. Aleron should have refused it on principle alone. Acceptance would only fuel her ambitions which have no place in his life now. Yet there was good reason to travel more incognito. Riding through the countryside marked as a Seeker felt an invitation to ambush or unrest given the very uncertain times. For now, he is but a well-armed soldier riding a quality war horse across the Hinterlands.

2.
Honestly? What in the Maker's name are people thinking?

Aleron cannot continue on his way because there is a rabble of shabby locals barring his path. At the first, all he can make out of everyone talking over each other is something regarding bears. Not that he has any desire to tangle with a bear if at all possible, but this is the only way to where he's headed without taking an overly lengthy detour. ...and then he hears the real reason.

These lunatics are trying to protect the bears. There's angry complaints about too many bears being killed and some nonsense about how rams are going to run rampant through fields in the spring. His only visible response to this is to continue staring at them all, and one slight quirk of an eyebrow. If he wants to sigh at their stupidity, he's not letting on, nor doing it.

4.
The tavern is lively and cake is all around, but there's one patron who seems oblivious to it all. He's not; Aleron just doesn't care. He's seated, alone, at one of the tables with a single ale being slowly nursed. When asked if he'd like to sample some cake, he refuses, calmly. Not even a hint of annoyance upon being asked for the seventeenth time in an hour. Instead, he's holding a letter in his hand, its sealing wax unbroken. He's holding the letter but not actually looking at it. After some time, he stands, walks to the fire, throws the letter in, and returns to his seat without so much as a frown or a glance at the contents within.

5.
That is a skull on a stick. A glowing skull on a stick, to be precise.

The Seeker isn't sure what its purpose is, but he distrusts it on principle alone. The exposed skull is trouble enough without unknown light coming from it. Some magic with which he is unfamiliar. That alone demands an answer. If he could only bloody get to it. He's as stoic as ever, but the way he paces back and forth bespeaks his level of growing frustration. There must be a way up. Bones do not just amble up hillsides on their own.

[dominations]

Guess what Nevarran mages love: skulls.
At least, that is what Greta understands that she is meant to love, to have some enthusiasm for. It is what she was meant to become, and the symbol makes her gut twist unhappily as she spies it through the hills, as if it were beckoning to her. There is little to mark her any more distinctively than than the man she spokes looking at the skull, and his presence sparks equal parts fear (run) and curiosity.

And so it is that a hooded figure that was about to pull away from the skull kneels down over the jagged edge of rock, pulling back her hood to reveal a waves of dark hair, skin that had caught too much sun from its reflection off the snow, and a careful, curious gaze.

"You have not seen one of these before?" She asks, and her accent marks her as Nevarran, just as the black staff at her back marks her for a mage. "There is a path to get up here, but... it is not nearby."

[lifeofendurance]

Ah the accent. Aleron recognizes it immediately. He'd been sent to Cumberland for some years following Mirielle's death, and to some degree he considers that his place of return. Nowhere is truly home for him. Not since he was a child. But those are thoughts of the past and not the present, which is what he needs to attend to. Brooding on things long gone can come tonight whenever he comes to rest.

Still, the familiar accent is a pleasure to hear, even if he doesn't show it.

He looks up to the speaker and slowly shakes his head. "I have not. Are you familiar with them?" Aleron spares a glance around at the landscape before him, trying to ascertain point of ascent to that location. Clearly the lady knows the way. "In which direction does the path lie?"

Her staff is not much of a concern to the Seeker, unless she suddenly chooses to become aggressive. He knows not who she is, nor her history, and he is no Templar. His duty does not include the mundane hunting of mages. Particularly not one who's done no obvious wrong beyond lingering around an unknown potential source of magic.

5

[arlathvhen]

Beleth doesn't like the skulls much either, truth be told. But the Inquisition wants them to be inspected, and she is if nothing else an obedient servant.

Or something like that.

She's circling the area where she can hear the creepy ass noise the skull makes, when she sees a man at the base of the hill. A very well-armed human man. Well, that wasn't foreboding. She freezes, but making a break for it would probably be considered suspicious. So she bobs her head to him, body posture differential. It makes humans feel safer when you act subservient.

"Hello, ser. Are you trying to get to, um." Beleth's eyes dart to the skull. "That thing, too?" She stops, her eyes slowly going to rest on a tree near the man. A way to get to that damn skull, and out of the situation slowly blossoms. "...I think you've got an idea, ser."

The Dalish approaches the tree, and then with the grace of a particularly agile squirrel, scales it. And from there, she leaps nimbly to the ledge the skull is on. Beleth takes time to make a face at it, then pokes her head over the ledge to look at the man. "That should work." She says it with a blithe politeness, as if she thought it would be completely possible for a man in full armor to shimmy up a tree like a monkey.

[lifeofendurance]

The deferential treatment doesn't even register with Aleron, at least not in the sense of making him feel important (or safer). His mother would argue that it should, and he should remember his station, but as far as he's concerned that went out the window with the bathwater when he was nine years old. The Seekers are his family now. And he's spent too many years being the heavy coming in to investigate problems to do much beyond to note the plain facts that she's being deferential for some reason and seems almost nervous.

He crosses his arms over his chest and watches without reaction as she scrambles up the tree. It's not a bad idea, though not something he can pull off in the armor. Aleron shakes his head slightly. "I doubt I can take that route, madam."

Of course, now that she's up there and he's still on the ground, the elf could well take off, or snatch the skull and then run. He's got no purpose to care if she stays or goes, beyond wondering why she's there in the first place, and concern she's going to steal the item before he can investigate it.

"Do you know what that is? What it does?"

[arlathvhen]

He called her madam. What a strange human. But Beleth doesn't comment on that, and instead just shrugs apologetically. She'd counted on him not being able to get up here, and was glad she'd been correct. Now to try to figure out if he was a threat, a help, or neutral. From a safe distance.

His questions make her glance over to the skull in question, the strange ringing noise even louder when she's this close to it. She wishes that she could just take the skull and chuck it off the ledge. But that seems a bit...callous. And no guarantee it'd shut up. "I don't know much, I'm afraid. There's an official name for them, but, um. Most of us just call them those creepy skulls." She rubs the back of her neck sheepishly.

"As for what they do..." She looked a little perturbed as she thought on it. Not because she didn't know, but because she did. "You...look through the eye sockets. They reveal shards that would be hidden otherwise. The Inquisition isn't sure what the shards do, but we've been collecting them. Just in case." At the very least, if they had the shards, their enemies didn't.

[lifeofendurance]

"Creepy skulls it is." He can look into the official name later, as that means there's people who are aware enough of them to have given them a formal label. For now, her casual reference works. It does rather raise the question, however: who is her 'us' He presumes it to be the Dalish and that they've a clan somewhere nearby; the facial tattoos give that much away. Patiently listening to her reveals a different answer.

The Inquisition. It's as if one can't travel five steps without stumbling over one of their agents. He's still undecided on the legitimacy of the group? Movement? He knows the Chantry has denounced it, that Lord Seeker Lucius openly denounced it as well. Aleron intends to verify the claim that this was the Divine's directive before she died. If she did? Then his duty lays here to see the work done. If not? That's a bridge to cross on arrival. Matters for rumination later.

The Seeker's perpetual stoicism breaks with a look of disgust as she explains how the creepy skulls are used. Not just because as a good Andrastian he still feels that bodies should be burned. It seems disrespectful to the dead to use parts of their remains thus. The process strikes him as utterly wrong. And these shards? Unknown magical artifacts, perhaps?

"Did you say the Inquisition is using them?"

[arlathvhen]

She settles into a crouch, still peering down at him like an inquisitive squirrel. He doesn't look very pleased when she tells him what they're supposed to be used for, but that's hardly her fault. She's not exactly a fan of peering around through the eyes of a creepy screeching skull, but she's less of a fan of ignoring orders.

Besides, getting to the shards is usually pretty fun. They were always in the strangest, hardest to reach places.

"Yes. We didn't make them, we're not really sure...how they got here. But the scouts have been tasked with locating them all and collecting the shards that they reveal." Beleth explains, with a shrug to show that it wasn't her idea. She debates offering to show him, but...she doesn't know who he's working for. He's a warrior, certainly, but there are still plenty of rogue Templars wandering about, and he could be one of the red Templars, just...not quite as advanced as what she's seen. It'd be pretty embarrassing if she offered to show him, then he killed her and took the shards.

"Do you have any other questions, ser? If you let me know what knowledge you're looking for, I can try to help. Or at least direct you to my superiors."

[lifeofendurance]

Oh, he's got plenty of other questions. More than one person is likely to be able to give him, and Aleron knows it. Now that he's got the notion in his head that this falls directly into something he should be investigating, the man's not like to leave it alone until he's wrangled all the details possible. He stares intently at the skull proper as if trying to will it into giving up its secrets, though in truth, he's making mental note of every scrap of detail he can glean from this distance.

"I do. Have you the time to indulge me?" He can't entirely be an ass and hold her here if she's better things to be doing, though if he played the Seeker card, he likely could. He'd prefer she not leave, to whatever business she likely does legitimately hold, until he can ferret out more information... or a contact. That she's offering both seems a promising sign.

He motions to the elf with a swing of his arm that she might shimmy back down to the ground. "I would join you, but I wouldn't dream of leaving my horse down here. Maker knows, one of the fighting parties in the area might take him, if bandits didn't beat them to it. Or the bears."

[arlathvhen]

Aleron, Beleth does not even know what a Seeker is, and she wouldn't care even if she did.

What is clear is that he wants her to come down to talk to her. As someone who has had to spend her time in Skyhold craning her neck to talk to all these tall shems and qunari, she feels like she can manage some sympathy. But whether or not this is a safe thing to do is another question. He could be one of those rogue Templars that had been roaming around the Hinterlands. But he hasn't tried attacking her yet, which is more than any of those had done. And he cared about his horse. That was a good sign.

So she nodded, and hopped off the ledge, back onto the tree, and made her way back down to his level. Answering questions can't hurt, right? It's not like she knows anything top secret (or that she'd admit to). When she does reach Aleron, she holds a fist to her chest, and ducks her head at him. "Scout Beleth Ashara of the Inquisition. I'll answer what questions I can, Ser...?" If he's going to be playing 20 questions with her, the least she can get back is a name, she figures.

[lifeofendurance]

Much better. Far easier to look down to talk to this elf scout than crane his neck up. Aleron takes her being obliging to be a good sign and nods at her in greeting. He does pause, briefly, before supplying something of a name. "Darton. Aleron Darton."

He had to think about it. Chances of someone recognizing the name in these parts were low, smaller still to a Dalish scout. The likelihood of prompting some version of a nasty and violent spat at mentioning his being a Seeker of Truth? That's a far greater risk and not one he care's to initiate right now. He needs answers, not more problems to resolve.

"It's a pleasure, Scout Ashara." Manners. He was born to eat, drink, and breathe them, and had them even further instilled through his very formal mentor. What he doesn't have in ready supply is anything akin to a smile, not even one of welcome. "I'll not hold you from your business overlong."

2

[gatheringstorm]

On the other hand, there's another nearby who's just fine with letting her frustration be known. "Andraste's tits, what the hell is wrong with you?? You can't reason with the damn bears, the Breach drove them mad! And no, I'm not going to let people get slaughtered just because you think leaving them alone will suddenly solve everything. The Inquisition is here to stop chaos, not promote it!"

Grumbling, Korrin stalks away from the fools with her staff ready. Even if they aren't willing to do their part in keeping the Hinterlands safe, she certainly won't waver.

[lifeofendurance]

If the sight of an angry Qunari woman arguing with the locals wasn't enough to grab Aleron's attention, the word 'Inquisition' would more than do the job. One was a rare sight in his experience. The other? Well, seeking out this 'Inquisition' was what he was doing in the area in the first place. He's not about to let that opportunity pass him by. Not that he's keen to go stomping through an area infested with demon possessed bears, but that does fall rather squarely under something he should address personally.

He swings down from his horse, lashing the reins around a tree in quick and efficient order then attempts to follow the woman. "Madam? A word, if you please?"

It's phrased as a request, but rest assured he means to speak her her. It's a statement of fact.

[gatheringstorm]

'Madam' doesn't get her attention as such, because it's rare that anyone addresses one of her kind thusly. Usually, it's 'ox' or something just as condescending, if not more so. But his footsteps behind her snag her attention and she turns to look, raising an eyebrow as she notes his armor, all polish and no wear. Perhaps humans would be impressed, but the normal wear and tear that comes with the life of an experienced soldier would impress her more.

Pausing, she turns around and folds her arms, a quick glance to ensure that the protestors aren't following them. Good. "Yes?"

[lifeofendurance]

She might find herself more impressed with his Seeker's armor with almost two decades of wear on it. He'd felt it best not to wear it with so much in the world in question. At least, not until he'd arrived at the headquarters of the Inquisition to get some answers. There are enough tensions between mages and templars without painting a target on his back as he travels.

He can tell she's assessing him and possibly passing judgement on the armor. He certainly would. But it works for the time being and obscures his identity well enough. Unless this woman is well enough versed in Orlesian heraldry to recognize the silver falcon on a field of blue on the shield he carries with him. His mother's to blame for that. He himself takes the time to inspect her staff. It's seen action, Aleron's certain of it.

"Forgive me the eavesdropping. Did I hear you say you are with the Inquisition?"

He's not actually sorry for overhearing that, but it's the polite thing to say.

[gatheringstorm]

The Vashoth woman nods, assessing him anew at that question. It's not an uncommon one, but the Inquisition is hardly as beloved or influential as it needs to be, even now based in Skyhold. Anyone interested has her curiosity.

"You did. I'm an agent, have been since the Conclave. Are you looking to join, or do you need the Inquisition's assistance? Or both?"

[lifeofendurance]

"Neither," he answers straightfaced without a flick of emotion. After a moment's brief pause in which he considers the question, he adds, "...and possibly both."

Realizing that's likely just asking for more questions, many of which he's no interest in answering or justifying, Aleron shakes his head by way of mute apology for being cryptic. He knows he often is. It's second nature to him to hold everything close to his chest.

"I'm traveling there looking for some answers. Is Seeker Pentaghast still present?" It's a shot in the dark that one of their might know her, but he assumes that the Right Hand of the Divine is a large enough figure that even field agents would know of her and if she was still affiliated with the group.

[gatheringstorm]

Yeah, that initial unhelpful response earns Aleron a dead stare and raised eyebrow. Korrin's willing to do all she can to help people, but communication is something of a necessity. Mention of Cassandra gets her interest, though, and whatever irritation she has slides away as her curiosity grows.

"Cassandra? She's in Skyhold, working with the other advisors. Are you one of her people, then?" Not family, no, that much is apparent. But perhaps another Seeker? They've vanished almost as effectively as the Grey Wardens, with a couple of exceptions. This could be interesting.

[sunbrand]

"Your letter is burning."

Regardless of how little the man seems to care about the action of burning the letter, most people likely wouldn't have said anything - the moment is a little too personal, too intimate, for a stranger to comfortably involve themselves in. Shaene has not been 'most people' in two decades.

"If you meant to read it, you ought not have put it there." She says helpfully.

[lifeofendurance]

For a man who looks all the world like he's checked out and not paying attention, Aleron's all too aware when someone approaches his table. He just stoically continues to drink his ale without reaction, at least until the person hovering speaks. His eyes turn to the female voice and what he sees actually prompts a response. She is Tranquil.

Compassion isn't an emotion he often indulges in. This woman, however, pulls it from him. He has a great respect for anyone willing to accept Tranquility rather than live as a risk to their fellow man.

"There was nothing in the letter I needed to read."

Knowing his sister, it was probably a healthy litany of the dresses she'd ordered, the jewels she'd brought, the men she'd flirted with at the last seven parties, the state of Lady So-and-So's spreading backside. Nonsense. Once in a blue moon, Ravonild's letters would include relevant news: how her children were faring, their mother's continued good health, the wedded bliss of their younger sisters. But tonight, Aleron is feeling peevish and not of a mood to read of everyone else's lives and happiness.

5.

[dragoon_pride]

That sure is a skull on a stick, and Kain is just as alarmed at the sight of it himself. It's his first time coming across one, and he's not yet heard anything from the natives about their function.

"I could get up there easily." Kain glances over to the other man, and then back up to where the skull is perched. Yeah, it's be an easy jump. But does he dare touch the thing?

[lifeofendurance]

To be honest, Aleron's not sure which is the more surprising now. A skull on a stick or a man in such unusual armor. Both are out of the ordinary, though one is perhaps a stylistic issue. Or some odd Avvar notion. The skull is the more suspicious of the two, though there is question what the stranger is doing in the area with an interest in the skull.

Not realizing what the stranger intends to do, he looks about for a path of ascent. "You've found the way up, then? Do you know what it is?" Or why it's there. What it does. Anything.

[dragoon_pride]

Dragon armor at that. Kain is used to it by now. He even likes to flaunt it a little, the fact that he has such an affinity for dragonkind. He likes being intimidating, after all.

"Not quite, though I have to wonder if there's a path after all... someone had to put it up there. No. I was thinking of a more... direct route." He shakes his head. "I was just planning to go up there myself to find out the truth. I suppose... I could bring us both." It wouldn't be easy, but Kain has hauled others with him before, not to mention heavy equipment and such, sometimes.

[lifeofendurance]

"Pardon?" It sounded for a moment like the man suggested he could take them both up that cliff. Something here does not compute. Mages don't run about in heavy armor, but the only way he sees that is 'direct' would involve some sort of magic. "How would you manage that?"

DON'T WORRY HE KNOWS WHAT HE'S DOING!!

[dragoon_pride]

"Allow me to show you." Kain walks over toward him and makes a "hmm" under his breath. Sure, jumping with another armored man isn't exactly an easy task, though it's do-able. Dragoons need to be able to possibly haul others with them after all, and once he's airborne it'll be easier, it's mostly the beginning that's the hard part.

So he grabs hold of the other, tightly, and then leaps, kicking off from the ground, shouting, "HANG ON!" as they soar upward. It's not as high as normal, but that's ok, since that's not the goal here anyway. Kain aims for the general area near that skull... and down they travel for a solid landing.