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

[writteninblood]

"I'm not planning to go bearhunting, you know," But Sorrel stands up to follow, amicably enough, "What I have is fine! Besides, how am I gonna pay for any of it; think they take undried elfroot cuttings?"

He's nervous, can you tell? All the rumors agree on one thing about the Inquisition, at least: it's big. All those humans... He'd gotten through Denerim well enough, but traveling as a stranger wasn't the same as being expected to-to be part of something.

But Sorrel had come here, after all, on purpose.

"Lead on, then. I'm with you."

[samahl]

"Oh, words I'll never tire of hearing when they come from your mouth," Cyril responded easily. He had settled into flirting with Sorrel easily because it was familiar and fun to do.

Then he pulled away to lead the way to the nearest camp. He seemed very comfortable doing so as well, as if he had gotten used to thinking of the Inquisition as home.

[writteninblood]

"A-hurr-hurr-hurr," Sorrel replied, in perfectly fluent sarcasm as he followed. No one seemed to blink, two Dalish elves, a hunter and an apostate, no one stopped them from walking right into the camp as if they had any right.

As if they belonged here.

Sorrel tried to relax, to follow Cyril's lead, but it was hard to avoid the natural way he let himself slouch, kept his head down, as if to become smaller, less to notice, less to target. He avoided making eye contact, and focused on simply following his lethallin through the steps. Everything was fine. Everything was going to be just fine.

[samahl]

Cyril seemed to notice this so he moved over to Sorrel and put an arm around him. "Hey," he said seriously. "You're all right. You're part of Clan Ashara, and we have to represent that proudly. Don't let these shems think you're a push over." His voice is soft, encouraging. "Let them see your beautiful eyes."

[writteninblood]

"I don't think I need to let anyone see my beautiful anything right now, thanks," Sorrel managed not to grit his teeth, and was a little proud of that, not realizing that accepting Cyril's compliment without real comment had probably broadcast his distress more clearly than snapping might have, "I'm not you, I can't just smile at everything and win it over."

Although, technically, nothing bad had happened yet. He took a deep breath and tried to straighten his spine a little. It didn't help the anxious, white-knuckled tension much, but he did look less furtive.

[samahl]

Cyril didn't seem to mind that Sorrel was snapping at him. Instead, he just rubbed the mage's back encouragingly and then pulled back to give him some space.

"What is bothering you? Maybe I can help you overcome that."

[writteninblood]

At the touch of contact, Sorrel closed his eyes, let the tension ease, if only for that breath.

"It's... been a hard couple of months, that's all," He smiled for Cyril, after all, green eyes and all, scar winding across one cheek like an empty riverbed, "I'll tell you later, yeah?"

[samahl]

Cyril's face fell a bit. "Hard? Why? Did something happen to the Clan?" He knows that Sorrel said he wanted to talk about it later, but hearing that he was having a hard time makes Cyril worry.

[writteninblood]

"No, not-- It's complicated. The Keeper..." Sorrel always did that; she was his mother, but he never called her anything but the Keeper, "... I'll tell you later. I'm not hiding anything really dire from you, I promise."

He knows that isn't any help. Another tact, then: Sorrel tilts his head conspiriatorily.

"C'mon, Cyril, half these shems are templars, I have a right to be a little nervous."

[samahl]

"Templars who can't harm you because the Inquisition allied with the mages as well. I promise you are safe." He offers Sorrel a smile. "And if anyone tries anything, they'll get an arrow to the face."

[writteninblood]

"You'll forgive me if shemlen politics aren't the most comforting shield right now," Still, he's unbending, little by little, and the smile on his face runs a bit more genuine for it, "C'mon, you brought me over here for a reason, right?"

[samahl]

"That's right. To get you settled in with the Inquisition," he starts to lead Sorrel towards the tents. "Unless you wanted to spend some alone time in one of the tents first," he teases lightly.

[writteninblood]

"Oh, won't your harem be jealous, then? I'll stick with the other option, just to be safe," Teasing, that's a good sign, as is the grin, despite Sorrel's continued wariness, "Beleth'd kill us both, anyways. You know how she gets."

[samahl]

"My harem? It sort of defeats the point of having more than one lover if they're jealous when I add one more, doesn't it?" he asks, teasing a bit. He's also careful not to deny that he has many lovers. He doesn't want to pretend to be anything else when he talks to Sorrel. "I know. She's protective. That's a good quality."

[writteninblood]

"Oh we're all doomed if you're using logic and planning, now. You have to tell me all about it, sometime," There's that relaxed sarcasm, come back again from under its rock, "Where is Beleth? I-- she was writing to me, for a while, but the letters slowed down. Then they stopped. I know mail's not always reliable, especially when we're on the move, but..."

But when you love someone unconditionally, you worry. If you're Sorrel, you worry regardless.

[samahl]

"Oh, she's around. We can try to look for her?" He'll have to go to an officer and see if she was given a particular assignment.