allthisshitisweird | TEST DRIVE MEME

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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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He's not nearly as fast, or as accurate; often the snowballs he throws come apart messily in midair, or smash noisily against the trees and underbrush behind her. He doesn't dare get close enough to tackle her into a drift, he's not brave or determined enough for that... but his charge had been absolutely ill-informed, and almost every snowball she hurled took him full in the face.

The last three did the mask in. One made it sag haphazardly; the second smeared it along his face. The weight of the third, and it was toppling into the snow as he tried to weave away-- and its sudden, startling absence drew him up short, and he cast up both hands in surrender.

"Wait, wait," he called, breath puffing. "I yield, huntress. Let me find it again."

An embarrassed scarlet had risen up his throat and cheeks; she might as well have taken his clothes, for all the mask meant. Its lack revealed him clearly for a servant of some kind, and a deep scar crawled down his cheek. He paid the game no mind, hunting for his lost dignity in the snow around his feet, bent at the waist.

Edited (typographical errors yaaay) 2016-03-08 03:41 (UTC)

"Oh, don't go and be stupid now."

She doesn't throw more snow or move to stop him. Not her place. Sera took in whispers and requests from friends, punched up at the nobles that she knew had it coming. Telling the little people how to go about living their lives, though? Wasn't much her game, no matter how much an elf acting like people thought they should made her stomach sick. She wasn't here to pull people up that didn't want to bother doing it themselves.

But while he was looking for the mask, the donkey was fair game. Her toes were getting numb as a noble's brain and she could use the ride. If he wanted the mask more than that, let him make his own choice.

Oh, that sound in her voice. Judgement, and something else, stranger, harder to put a finger on. Lyon was well-spoken by necessity, but his education was blunt and practical, and he couldn't name the twinge in his gut that answered to it.

Eyes on his hands, he pulled the mask out of the snow. Plain. Old. Worn.

It brought the smile back to his lips, at least a little; utterly mirthless and more than a little rueful. He straightened, catching her beeline for the brown mule from the corners of his eyes.

Shit.

Rather than let the panic into his voice, he called out a warning, "Careful! He bites," as if he didn't care that she'd probably ride the damn thing right past him up to the castle. It was a lie, of course-- but it had worked before.

"Not harder than me."

If he'd said it cast spells she might have run off, but biting? Nothing to that a few bandages and punch to the rascals nose wouldn't fix. She glanced back as she threw a leg over the breast- yeah. Mask was back in hand. Ugh.

"It magic or something?"

The weary beast grunted and balked at the weight added in addition to its bulky pack, and stirred up flurries of snow at its hooves as it made forward at a little faster pace, as if testing how readily he might be let to bolt. Lyon could only bark a helpless laugh at the stranger's quick retort, trying to hurry after both and re-tie the mask.

But then-- It magic or something?

His smile only grew. "It's my home!"

"That's a load of shite."

Aaaand the thing was moving fast. For all her bravado, Sera was Ferelden at heart. Doggies good, horses kinda eh. Little horses included. She held on with no real idea how to control where it went or how fast, just trusting it would stick with the pack and keep her out of the snow. Her voice took on a shaky edge as her inexperience with riding became clear, but she was not dropping the mask point.

"Too good for us southerns to see, is it?"

"Sometimes, that's the best part of showing off. Just like it is when fighting these assholes. Sure, magic works, but it's fun to throw a punch because no one ever expects it from a mage." Those skinny types in robes...no, she doesn't have much in common with them. Anyway, once Sera's situated, she straightens. "Alright, keep a lookout for any flying chairs or tankards!"

And she's off, weaving around tables and fallen tankards and people. It's a delicate balance, but she's as good as her word about being careful. No one's fallen off her shoulders yet and she'd like to keep that record.

Shaking her head, Korrin grins at getting a laugh out of him, however subdued. A minor victory is still something. "Warrants for who? No one saw us that was willing to rat us out. Officially, we departed earlier in the day. Hell, for some of the company, that was even true. We just left, caught up to them and behaved as though we'd never left. Shokrakar -our leader- didn't say anything afterward, but she kept smirking at us. She knew."

"What is it you have against my mask, hay-head?"

He hadn't missed how she jostled on the mule-- and pursed his lips together, hurrying forward before they jogged too far out of range. He picked up two heaping handfuls of snow, huffed in the cold air to keep pace, his leather boots crunching in the snow over the road...

He threw the snowball at the mule's haunches, and was well-rewarded when it grunted a winter-hoarse whinny and half-reared before bolting straightaway toward the long bridge and open gates of Skyhold in the near distance.

And Sera was in the snow. There was no staying on when the tiny horse decided to rebel against the snow.

"Ugh! I'm frozen from my arse to my- you know."

She looked down at her crotch before standing up. It'd been funny, she couldn't deny. She wasn't so high and mighty she couldn't giggle at herself. But that didn't stop her from whipping another handful of snow at the man as she stood up.

"What've you got against me seeing your scarface. Scarface?"

"Your crew was lucky! I can only imagine the sentencing for that kind of villainy," he noted with a smile that slanted around his pipe. He paused, took another drink... and seemed to struggle a moment with something. He looked like a man wondering at the wisdom of what he meant to say.

"Sokrakrr... Am I saying it right?"

He almost doubled over with low, hoarse laughter when she fell; a slow, bouncing slide from the ill-tempered beast that would outpace them both in mere minutes. And he was still laughing, brushing the snow off of his clothes, as he trudged up.

"Aren't there things about you that you don't want strangers to see? Your scars, your vulnerabilities, your hopes?" He said it all with easy levity, his provincial accent making the words a leisurely rumble. "They're all in your face. All your truths."

"You don't like my face, that it?"

Frozen. Absolutely frozen. Arse, ears, and hands. But it was a fair battle, no hard feelings as she tucks her freezing fingers into her armpits for warmth. Even if the mask looks like fine thing to burn for warmth just now.

"The face is fine, but you've got a tongue like a whip," he grunted good-naturedly, and shouldered a little better into his threadbare cloak. But seeing how she huddled on their miserable remaining march up to the castle, his mouth twisted.

Almost guiltily, a few moments later, "You want my gloves to wear?"

"Piss off with that, yeah?"

She'd lose those hands to snow and stupid first, thanks. That cloak, those clothes. Sera couldn't take a single thing. Games were one thing, but that? She frowned over at him.

"Why?"

"Right thing to do, I supposed," he admitted, visibly baffled by the why. As they continued their snow-slowed pace toward the bridge which led to the gates, he watched her openly, brows furrowed faintly.

Well, he'd always heard Ferelden was a backwater place...

"What's your name?"

You been saving that one up all night, have you?

_{[ Hey, you critiqued him, he is really not above critiquing you either.

He shook his head and shifted ever so slightly back into his stance and looked to the guy with horns, now dubbed Horny for lack of a better name. ]}

Don't know about you, big guy, but I know better than to stand between a lady and her drink.

_{[ One last chance to back down, because he was a gentleman like that. Otherwise, he would be throwing the second punch. ]}

"Almost! Shokrakar. It means 'rebel', fitting for someone who escaped the Qun. She's the strongest person I know, not to let that crap break her down. I was damn lucky to get recommended to her; none of the other groups I worked with really compare."

Which isn't to say that some of them weren't fun in their own way, but the Valo-Kas is family.

[1.] Sinister crafter of clever deceit

Chased through the snow by bears? Oh no, not Loki, but he's happy to watch 0ther unfortunate souls being chased by bears in the snow. He cannot imagine that anyone would have been stupid enough to provoke them, they could have happened upon the bears accidentally, stumbled into their territory, but then again? Intelligence was a difficult thing to measure in creatures with such brief lives

Loki was not known for his helpfulness, it was a great deal more fun for him to watch chaos unfold until or unless such things stopped being fun, which would happen eventually. For a time he simply stood there on an outcrop watching the scene play out in the snow before it was simply no longer interesting. Besides, playing the hero came with its own set of benefits, people owing you their lives, their allegiance, their favor. Loki could be heroic when the mood struck him. When he felt like it. If there was something to gain.

So after a time he descended from his perch, placing himself between the beast and the target. He could misdirect the beast, he could blast it, he could create a mist and lose the creature in it, or an illusion for it to chase...but swatting the creature simply took less effort. Like batting a dog on the snout and the bear had a similar reaction: confusion, submission, an appropriate degree of shame? Whatever it was the creature seemed to at least sense it was messing with forces out of its league.

"Ta-da."

[4.] Loki's wily trade leaves many bereaved

Well, if someone had to bring the party it might as well be the patron god of mischief, chaos, and other such deviances. This would not be difficult, as they say, like shooting ducks in a barrel, especially given the fact that the present crowd was already drunk and worked up.

All it needed was a little push! The proper application of magic.

Turning ale into snakes had always been his favorite, it worked on the servants in Odin's palace, and these were drunk mortals. One had to be paying close attention to even suspect it was Loki who was going the conjuring, hand gestures that were subtle, his scepter tucked at his side not at all in use. The toxic mixture of his enchantment and the atmosphere and soon the ale was flying and mortals were breaking furniture over one another.

Nothing left for Loki to do here but watch and bask in the ambiance, he'd completed his mission.

[5.] Your tricks can take away, yet also give

This sort of thing was only funny when it was happening to others.

In fact Loki was usually the cause of such things, not the effect. When things popped out of strange portals and began attacking other things he was the one creating the portals and the one letting the beasts through. Granted letting the Frost Giants into Asgard had gone spectacularly wrong, but it had given him some clarity as well.

This, this was different, this was not the rift he created, nor the dimension he hoped to cross. He'd no idea how he managed to get lost in the transition to Earth, but this was not they way he was expecting to begin his reign and the heckling of the House of Odin. On a world he, astonishingly, knew nothing of (none of these realms were of the nine he readily recognized) and fighting strange creatures, demons, not of his design.

And they had the audacity to attack him, but mindless creatures weren't expected to know a king when seen, a trespass that he could forgive, even if he would not forgive being attacked. Fortunately he still had the scepter in his possession, not that he would not have been just fine on his own, but being able to channel destructive energy blasts swiftly and efficiently? Enabled him to mow these creatures down quickly.

Of course the kind of magic or power that he wielded was vastly different from indigenous magic. If the scepter produced nothing in the way of results it could still function perfectly as a spear with severely curved ends.

Help him or stay out of his way, Loki is not very discriminating when it comes to killing these creatures and anyone who gets in his path.

"Sera. And what's right about it?"

There was sharing between people that had nothing. She'd done that often enough, was fine with it. Be this elf made her skin crawl all over with the idea he's offering because that's what a good little servant did. She'd go running off to screw a darkspawn before she accepted something like that.

When addressed, Legolas glanced over to the Man speaking. His amusement was clear to his eye, the smile a sign obvious enough, and Legolas stopped in his step, though he still moved out of the way of the general commotion. He had no desire to be pulled into any of it, though it was not out of fear, rather unwillingness by the mass of drunk, sweaty Men.

"My presence here will only make it worse, I fear," though they all did seem very... taken with themselves, currently, before long very few would remain standing, "And I may risk becoming the very centre of it, should I not be careful enough."

And he ducked by a fraction when a half-filled pint glass flew in their general direction and smashed on the wall beside his head. The ale splattered Legolas's shoulder and he brushed it off.

"They do not respect elves here, unfortunately, not very much." He smiled, wry, "And there is no enjoyment to be taken from such disrespect."

Legolas had to stare too, even if it was in his defence that this woman stood now. At the very least, he managed to keep his expression clear of most of the surprise. It was a new world, full of strangeness - like this Man's attitude towards elves - and things and peoples unknown, exactly like this tall woman of folk unlike any he had known in his life.

He released the Man's hand with undisturbed calmness, with easy pride that back home demanded, and received, the well deserved respect. There was none of that, though, just fear sparked by the one coming to his aid whenever the Man glanced her way, and displeasure bordering on disgust and hatred, when he turned his gaze to Legolas himself. "They all should keep you on shorter leashes," he spat, slurring the words, but turned around to leave without causing a scene. At least that, though Legolas felt hardly comforted. Never before in all his long life had he experienced anything like this. Not from anyone but orcs or goblins or trolls, the only folk showing such disdain for the elves where he came from.

"My thanks, most sincere, I fear it would not have ended so peacefully otherwise," he addressed the woman, bowing his head in thanks. He did his best not to stare anymore, at least. "I had not considered that my presence would cause such an uproar."

"They seem to hold similar prejudices toward those with knowledge of the arcane and a gift for magic, it's just like home," Loki was, for better or worse, not as careful with his words as Legolas, he saw no reason to be, not with the air of confidence that seemed to radiate from him, "of course when you revel in bad ale and the smell of wet dog, the who's to judge?"

Did he say that out loud? He must have, because when he glanced out of the corner of his eye there were bottles and bits of furniture being lobbed in their general direction. Bottles and furniture that seemed to glance off of them as if they'd struck an invisible wall. An invisible wall that threw their projectiles right back at them.

"I dare say they are very protective of their love of dog stink, my friend," oddly enough Loki seemed to be enjoying the hostility.

3. Out on the Ice
Dangerous trade routes were always good for a bit of 'found' wealth. Usually, this was at the expense of others who had run into bad luck. Maybe the goods had been left in a hurry or maybe their original owners had perished in the snow. Regardless of why or how they'd come to be abandoned, Balthier's happy to gather them up and lug them back to town to turn a profit. So, staying close to the edges of the ice, he combs the snowbanks for abandoned cargo on one of the ingenious little sailed sleds.

(a) He hadn't exactly had much luck, but the oddly fashioned sled and sail reminds him a bit of being at sea. The exhilaration and the rush of cold air on his face are a wonderful distraction to the marked lack of valuables waiting to be found and he finds himself grinning away as the wind carries the little vessel skidding across the ice. Like the sea however, the ice carries it's own danger and it only takes one unseen rock to send him and the little sled flying with an undignified shout into one of the snowbanks.

(b) Finally, a glint of something buried in one of the snowbanks catches his eye, something distinctly not rock, ice or snow. He sails the sled as close as he can, but has to cover the last few yards on foot, frown deepening as he approaches. A weapon, and beside it a person. A person who looks very much alive.

"Excuse me, are you alright?"

4. Tavern
While not running cargo or hunting the banks of the frozen lakes for abandoned goods, Balthier spends him time at the local tavern. The booze isn't great and the patrons can be even worse, but the fire's warm and he's drunk worse. Sometimes there's even live entertainment, like tonight. He cringes from the safety of the table he's sat at in the back as a bottle collides with another man's head and it all goes down hill from there.

He spots someone else entranced by the violence, or maybe just surprised. Either way, they seem to be in need of a seat, so Balthier clears his throat to get their attention before motioning to one of the empty chairs across from him.

"I won't take a swing at you. Promise," He teases with a charming smirk.

[or dat wildcard!]

Edited 2016-03-09 01:59 (UTC)

Those slurred words have Korrin narrowing her eyes further, but she isn't so ill-disciplined as to cause a scene when the point was preventing one. She'll save her energy for those times when looming and glaring isn't enough. Turning to the elf, the hardness from her gaze vanishes and her expression becomes sympathetic as she nods back. Staring is not something she minds anyway, as long as people aren't rude about it.

"You'd think with tears in the Veil and demons pouring out of them that people's priorities would change, but for some idiots, there's always room for bigotry. Especially when it comes to elves; Dalish or city folk, they never seem to catch a break. But while I'm around, anyone who starts in on that 'knife-ear' crap will be shown the door. I'm not a bouncer, but I don't think it's too much to ask that we drink in peace. I'm Korrin, by the way, of the Valo-Kas company and the Inquisition."

Edited 2016-03-09 02:09 (UTC)

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TEST DRIVE MEME

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Loki | MCU | Rifter

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Balthier | Final Fantasy XII | Native AU

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