allthisshitisweird | TEST DRIVE MEME

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TEST DRIVE MEME

A kingdom of isolation, and it looks like

it's the 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. WILL IT EVER BE WARM AGAIN WE JUST DON'T KNOW

1. AND THE BEARS THAT ONCE CONTROLLED ME CAN'T GET TO ME AT ALL

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. In case you hadn't guessed, it's still snowy.

2. LET IT GO

At first it sounds like a folktale, passed around tavern hearths and campfires after a few too many tankards. An evil witch with a heart of ice atop a frigid mountain fortress, casting endless winter upon the land, turning those who oppose her into snowmen. But it turns out it's true-- or at least partly. Maybe. Sort of. If you can weed through the stories, the common threads are these: several locals and travelers claim to have been accosted on the back roads through the hills by a female mage who used ice magic to trap them and steal their belongings, sometimes freezing solid those who tried to fight back. Some said she claimed to own the land, others that she was collecting a toll, and several that she cackled wildly about ranted about endless winter. Whichever version you choose to believe, there seems to be an apostate who needs dealing with. Perhaps you'd like to wander the roads in the guise of a wealthy traveler and lure her into an ambush? Scout the caves in the hills and try to track her to her lair? Make a friendly visit and recruit her to the Inquisition?

3. LET IT GO

The Hinterlands are dotted with lakes and ponds and streams, nearly all of which are frozen solid. The locals sometimes travel this way, pushing goods across on sledges, or strapping blades to the bottoms of their boots to skate, carrying messages and supplies or just racing when the weather is clear. Some enterprising souls have even attached sails to their sleds or runners to their rowboats and skitter across the ice hoping not to tip over or stray off-course into rocks. There are other hazards, too: in some places the ice is deceptively thin, and you may come across a stranger unlucky enough to have lost a boot or gotten a leg stuck or fallen through altogether. Maybe you're the unlucky one, treading icy water and calling for help.

4. I AM ONE WITH THE BLAH BLAH BLAAAAAH

The tavern at Redcliffe is rid of both cakes and rats, but is still filled to the brim with rowdy drunks. Tonight they are both rowdier and drunker than usual, and something sets someone off. Maybe it's you, maybe it's the guy next to you, maybe it's someone all the way across the room and you don't even see it happen, but suddenly the entire place is engulfed in a knock-down drag-out glass-smashing chair-swinging bar fight. Dive right in, pick a side, pick no side, get caught off-guard, hide under a table, try to sneak out, it's up to you but you'd better decide quickly.

5. THE COLD NEVER BOTHERED ME ANYWAY

Hunt game, or kill demons, dig under the snow for herbs, track bandits, open a streetside scarf stand in Redcliffe, fall off a deceptively tall rock into the snow, 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, climb trees or abandoned towers covered in snow, rummage around in empty homes to get out of the snow, run from a dragon, definitely don't kill any fennec foxes, set up camp and chat around the fire, sing a rousing solo about your love of the weather, do whatever the hell you want-- the Hinterlands are your endless frozen playground.

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A Vashoth woman looks over her spot at the bar, slowly making her way through an ale. The mask gets her attention and she knows what it means, though she doesn't have the distaste for Orlesian servants as she does their masters. "Don't worry, you're covered. The servants hang out here along with everyone else."

Being so directly addressed made his lean body tauten and tense, like a garrote drawn neatly around a neck. His mouth opened to speak, and there was a visible moment where different impulses warred in him: impolite and impolitic, for an elf to speak loudly over such a distance in mixed company. But she had addressed him, and Qunari or no---

A drink was slid near to his elbow and the bartender gruffly waved the elf off; there was too much else needing to be done for another new face to be coddled.

Lyon accepted the drink. Heart racing, face impassive, he walked a little closer to the woman who'd called out, and courteously dipped his chin. "I... am surprised many here allow for it. Would you know if it's because of all the construction? Finishing more necessary areas of the castle before turning to such matters? And... ah... may I join you?" He cracked an uncertain smile beneath the mask, lifting his mug of cheap gutrot ale.

"Bad luck to drink alone in a new place, they say."

Korrin smiles a little at that, not minding the company for all that she wasn't expecting the offer from someone who didn't already know her. Most are content to give a large, horned woman a wide berth, and she's come to expect that. But he asked, so she nods and gestures to the nearest chair.

"Suit yourself. I'm Korrin, by the way. And no, that's the way it's always been. This is the Inquisition, not the Empire; no one has the time or interest for segregating people like that. There's one cause on everyone's minds and as long as you're contributing to it in some small way, that's all they care about."

Mostly. She'd rather not get into the friction concerning rifters, shard-bearers, mages vs. Templars...all that is no secret, but not especialy relevant to here and now.

He used the toe of his boot to pull the chair forward by one of its legs, and turned neatly, folding his legs, sinking into it with the slow care of someone just beginning to grow old enough that all the aches and pains of the day lingered a little.

"Korrin. Well-met. I'm Lyon." He lifted his ale, and took a deep drink, using the pads of his fingers to brush some of the foam it left from his mouth. But his brows drew together a little as he listened.

"Ahh... but the Inquisition straddles the line between Orlais and Ferelden; has some members, I hear, even from Tevinter." The name inspired him to make a small, superstitious gesture. "All of these places separate their peoples so. I can imagine that doing otherwise... would cause a great deal of strife." He spoke slowly, almost indolently, relaxing into his chair, clearly following the philosophical bent of the conversation rather than injecting any personal investment into it.

Here was a man who took his leisure time very seriously. He drank again, one hand reaching towards a pocket near his belt-- "Would you be bothered if I smoked? I'd be happy to share my pipe, if you like."

[The sound of bears is not uncommon in the Hinterlands, or most places around here. They're just something that people have to deal with. Which is unfortunate. No, it's not the sound of bears that has Malcolm on edge; it's the sudden motion from above and the very not-bear sound that follows. He's got an arrow drawn back in almost no time, aimed at first at the top of the drop-off, until he notices that there's some manner of person tumbling in the midst of snow down the embankment.

If it's a failed ambush, it's...one of the worst he's seen. But a bear, no, two bears appear at the top of the steep decline, giving a roar after the near-avalanche of snow. It looks like they might be thinking better of taking a tumble. They might try to make their way around, or they might just have chased this fellow out of their territory.

Either way, he guides his horse closer to the bottom, wary, and directs his dog to be on guard.]

Did you startle the bears, or did they startle you, stranger?

_{[ Luck was with Kirk. Blind as that jump has been, the snowfall had
been more than enough to cushion him from anything more detrimental than
some bruises (or so he guessed seeing as he felt no larger pains anywhere
on his person). He brushed snow from his hair and shirt, whose minimal
thermal capabilities were seriously being tested by his sitting in a snow
drift and staring at a man on a horse and a dog that looked as inclined to
be friendly as the bears. ]}

Do bears really need a reason to chase someone? I'm surprised they're awake this time of year...

_{[ He paused as the realization came to him he had understood the other
man. On a planet he was going to guess was not Earth because he had been
several light years from Earth before waking up here. And as far as he
knew, there was no transporter capable of covering a span of light years...
]}

You wouldn't happen to know where I am right now, would you?

_{[ He smiled as charmingly as he could through the cold and worked
himself to his feet, brushing off his dark pants and yellow command shirt.
]}

A few hours walk from Redcliffe. [Easy to get turned around when being chased by bears, he supposes. And when everything is snow-covered. He eyes the top of the cliffside warily, but the bears have wandered off. For now. The bow is turned away though not immediately settled back to rest.]

Is that all you're wearing out this time of year?

_{[ Redcliffe. It meant nothing to him though it sounded like an
Earthian name. Time travel was not impossible as he well knew, but this
just felt... off. He wrapped his arms around himself to continue warding
off the chill and yet try and keep a somewhat dignified pose. ]}

I wasn't exactly planning on taking a winter vacation any time soon, and it definitely was not winter where I'm from.

_{[ He let out a breath, looking around at the terrain quickly before
refocusing on the other man and shuffling forward to hold out his hand.
]}

James Tiberius Kirk.

_{[ He left out the captain bit for now, until he was more sure of the
situation. This could definitely be a Prime Directive sort of issue, though
he liked to think that might take a back seat to his own survival. Still,
have to try. ]}

"It's not my thing, but go ahead. What's a tavern without some pipe smoke in it?" Korrin takes another sip from her tankard, steadily unwinding from the long day though it would take a lot more ale before her sobriety would slip. Human brews don't often overpower her, and the less said about dwarven crap, the better.

The superstitious gesture doesn't go unnoticed, and she shrugs. "I'm no fan of the Imperium, but those stemming from it who've joined the Inquisition are decent folk...good-looking, too." She flashes a smile, needing a moment of levity. "As for strife, that already exists in spades. I won't bore you with politics unless that's what you want, but we have plenty without adding class-mixing into it."

[Right then. Away with the bow entirely, and he reaches down to shake the man's hand.] A Rifter, then. Recently fell out of the sky, I presume? [Just because he doesn't really trust them inherently doesn't mean he can't be polite.] I should take you to Skyhold. You'll be allowed shelter and food with the rest of the Rifters and refugees.

Are there more with you, Ser Kirk?

More like woke up in the snow, but I won't rule out falling from the sky at this point either.

_{[ He frowned at the idea there were others like him, people pulled
from other regions of space and dropped here. Was it a phenomena? He didn't
see a native like Malcolm - and be assumed he was native - having the
technological means to do it themselves. ]}

And it's just me as far as I know, Mr....?

Have you a mark upon you, perhaps painful, green, usually upon the palm of the hand? [Sure sign of a rifter. Or shardbearer anyway. Rifter he must be given the general confusion. He signals for his dog, a chipper poodle, to return to their side.]

Seeker Malcolm Reed, ser. If you can stand the cold for much longer, perhaps we shall ride to the Crossroads? To at lease procure you a blanket or a coat. [He doesn't make it a habit to bring anything more than absolutely necessary if he's out by himself. And he's not sleeping out here on his own.] Skyhold is in the mountains where it's even colder, believe it or not, but rest assured that the castle sits on hot springs to make it much more temperate within the castle grounds.

_{[ With all the running for his life, he hasn't had much time to take
stock of any physical changes to himself. He frowned and looked down at his
hands, jerking somewhat in shock when he did, indeed, see a bit of what
looked like a green gem in his palm. What the hell? How had that gotten
there? And from the sounds of it anyone who popped into this world like he
had had one too. Gingerly he brushed it with the tips of his fingers,
wincing at how swollen and sore it felt. Damn it, where was Bones when he
needed him?}

Whatever it was, it would have to wait for later. He'd get no answers if he froze to death and that was definitely not on his list of ways he wanted to die. Right up there with being bear chow. ]

I'd appreciate the help, Seeker. And whatever I can do to pay you back, I will.

_{[ He kicks his way out of the drift and into shallower snow, coming to
stand closer to Malcolm and his horse. He touched the animal and nearly
sighed for how warm the beast felt, especially to frozen fingers. ]}

Lead on if you would, Seeker Reed.

[He shifts in the saddle and leans over to offer an arm.] It'll be faster if you ride on with me, Ser Kirk. A little warmer as well. I promise my horse doesn't have a habit of biting nor bucking his riders.

Just Jim is fine.

_{[ He wasn't scared of riding, but he had to admit it had been awhile
since he had ridden anything alive and with a mind of its own. Riding a
motorcycle was nothing like riding a horse. But following on foot in the
snow would prove tiresome rather quickly and he was sure come with a
frostbite on at least one toe. Not the best way to start his stay on a new
planet. So he gripped Malcolm's hand and somehow got himself on the back of
the horse, perhaps much less gracefully than he would have hoped, but at
least he was on. He slid his arms around Malcolm's waist, already grateful
for the warmth of the horse between his legs and Malcolm's back. ]}

So, tell me more about this "Skyhold", will you? So far I have it's a castle built on top of hot springs and its home to people like me. What was the term you used? Rifters?

He smiled, withdrawing the pipe, and kicked up his heels, swinging them over to a nearby stool. Her note on the Imperium's men made his brows furrow thoughtfully; and in companionable silence while he mulled over this, he pressed a small end of darkly fragrant dried leaves into the bowl of a small clay pipe.

"Speaking only personally..." He spoke while he picked a small stem from the leaves in a pouch on his belt, every motion calm and leisurely. It made him seem like an aging barncat, so relaxed in his own skin and comfortable in his surroundings that he could fall asleep in them. "I appreciate the divide."

He leaned toward a small lantern hung on a hook on a thick wooden post supporting the roof, and with his fingertips nudged the door of the lantern open, stealing some of its light with the stem. He used this to light his pipe. Took a steady drink of his ale and inhaled a quiet puff.

"I'll take you at your word. It is... difficult, even, to conceive of such a place as the Imperium." He said it a little haltingly, a polite admission of his own ignorance about the world. Like most peasants, he had a healthy, fearful respect of magic and mages, and had only had small occasion to ever meet many of that ilk himself.

"I think we'll both see enough of politics and strife in the coming seasons, if so much is already plentiful in Skyhold. Tell me a story about yourself, instead. I won't mind if it's not true."

The scent of the pipe reminds Korrin of her father's, and for a moment the nostalgia is overpowering. Sitting on his lap, listening to his booming laughter, and all the crazy stories she hoped to one day surpass. Whether or not she has by now is up for debate.

"Myself? Alright, but I don't really need to make up anything. I'm a mercenary of the Valo-Kas company, and we tend to draw 'crazy shit' to us without even trying.

There was an insufferable -seriously, even more than usual- noble in Verchiel who gave us a demanding job -retrieving goods that were ambushed by bandits on the way to the capital- but didn't pay nearly enough to compensate us for it. When we tried to adjust that, he threatened to have us arrested on some trumped-up charges through his connections. So, we left...sort of.

A few of us went back and took a liking to that ugly-ass monument of a distant ancestor that he kept bragging about. And by that, I mean we blew its fucking head off. His servants hated maintaining the damned thing, so they showed their approval by not telling on us. Nope, must have been some random bandits or an act of the Maker. It turns out even his neighbors hated him -or the monument, or both- so they weren't any help to him either."

Edited 2016-03-08 00:29 (UTC)

"Yes!"

It's loud enough that, were the bar not currently out and out in a full brawl, it would have drawn the attention of all in the room. As it is, she just punched up into the table with her enthusiasm at getting a lift, cackling at the pain.

"Just the thing for The Plan."

Hey, Horny. Cut it, yeah?

[..Ah. Apparently he was only a bodyguard up until things got tough. The glare she gets just makes her sigh. Now she was in it too, eh? Fine. ]

Gah. Maker's saggy ballsack. What's a girl got to do for a drink?

The stuttering apology was interrupted by a returned snowball to the face. Or mask, as it was. Sera hated those ridiculous things and aimed at knocking it off on instinct. Years in Orlais and she still hated them. Nobles hiding faces like they were too good for the little people to see them? Shite, that. She let people know who was fucking with them. At the end, anyway. When the fun was about done.

There's no angry cursing or threats that come after the snowball, though. Just raucous laughter at the game that's been started. Finally, some fun in this stupid funeral procession back to Skyhold.

She snickers and gets to her feet. "I could make us go faster with Fade Step, but I'm not sober enough to guarantee that will end as well as it usually does." Not all of her scars are from battle. Some of them were gained while mixing drinks and magic. "Alright, then, climb aboard." She'll crouch so that Sera can test her awesome shoulder-rides for herself.

Edited 2016-03-08 02:50 (UTC)

He tipped his head back and laughed. It was a low, quiet sound; rumbling and dry, utterly unobtrusive. Pale teeth flashing against his suntanned skin, he shook his head. The leather of his clothing creaked as he shifted, rolling his shoulders, his free hand relinquishing his drink to rub at his face before he took another slow drag at his pipe, part impressed, part incredulous.

"Maker's breath, I can imagine his fury after! And did no warrants follow, afterwards?"

Sera hesitates for a half-second. Mage? The tall, pretty thing was a magic thingy? That was...huh. But she wasn't gonna do any. Said so herself. Just running and real things, no sparkles. So she can climb on. For now. Any sign of dazzling and she'll jump.

"No woogidie for what you can do normal like, yeah?"

He was too busy stammering out the proper apologies, didn't even register the snowball hurled his way -- until it was obscuring his vision and filling his nostrils with sharp, searing cold. He choked and sputtered and bat the snow away, and the mule snorted and shied away, pulling its leather lead from his slack hand.

When he'd knuckled the snow from the eye holes of his mask and gotten a good look at the guffawing figure, he didn't waste time with the whats or whys. He'd grown up a rural life working aristocratically owned farmlands of the Orlesian heartlands; this was like a memory of boyhood, or a happy dream of a memory, given breath and life and colour. He darted forward, the beast forgotten, leaning to scoop up more snow and hurl it after her only hastily half-mashed into ballish shapes.

"We'll see how you yelp when you've got snow down your collar!"

"Pfft. You'll be begging for mercy when your balls are frosty!"

There is no caravan traveling to Skyhold. There are no supplies or guards or Mr. Fussy Pants McNobles making their way to pay homage to whatever tits had stepped up to fill the Herald's lovely shoes. There is only the snowball fight, and getting that damn mask to die. Also to soak the puff's pants, but that's secondary. Mask murder was the main name of the game, and Sera is putting her full skill of dexterity and sharp shooting to bear on that.

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TEST DRIVE MEME

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A

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hah!!

\o/