allthisshitisweird | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Ugh. Not even."

But he'd said the magic words, so it's a lighter tone than most elfy boys would get. Punching up. That was what she'd signed up for. Even if she hadn't really known just how far up that would be. Cory-thingy and his idiot dreams. They really needed to take care of all that so they could get back to the problems that made sense again.

She dusted the snow off her legs and gave enough small groan as she looked down at the mess. Soaked through. She'd be numb up to her arse by the time they were done with this. And not a good bed to steal into in sight.

"But you're a Friendly type, eh?"

She didn't know if Red Jenny was much around...whatever his voice came from. No where she'd been. But not knowing everyone was part of the plan. Made it harder for some noble to have his way with some weak link.

"You prefer a softer touch, yes?" He crackled a laugh, this wasn't the first he'd found the sort and been summarily turned down. Not as common a thing in the South as it was in the warmer North, but not so strange as he might bat an eye. Especially if it meant they could admire women together, if she was of a mind.

"In more ways than one- it has been some time since I've last run into a Jenny. Though to be fair it was less 'running into' and more 'running errands for' in Denerim about a decade ago. There are not quite so many friends in Antiva, alas. I suspect the Crows either leave them cautious or snap up the sorts for their own use." Which was a bitter shame. Those that made good Jennies had similar traits in what made for a good Crow- but with more freedom and joy in the acts of mayhem.

Still, it was nice to see that the organization persisted and continued to employ sneaky, smirky sorts.

"Friend of a friend, perhaps."

"I like women. Soft's got nothing to do with it, yeah? Bet you've been tossed around by some."

Antiva. Bird country. He was right, weren't that many Friends out there, she didn't think. Pity, seeing how the ones up top there liked to stab down instead of just punching. But that was just another problem on the long list of ones to get back to after the world stopped being mad.

She looked out over the endless, frozen, stupid wasteland with all the sharp pointy mountains in the distance and gave a sigh. Helping the little people. Had to get back to that, even if they were idiot enough to settle in a place like this. Sera looked over at the elf and jerked her head towards the mountain before she started walking again.

"Right. Well, you're on my good side for now, I guess. We'll see if that keeps up. Let's go put some arrows in a frigid tit...ah, you've got a name, right?"

Edited 2016-03-04 15:14 (UTC)

"More than a few!" Ah, fond memories of woken with broad shoulders and strong hands. There are days when he missed Ferelden keenly. Some of the women were as broad as the men and twice as lovely for it. There was something to be said of a lady that could break you as well as any man- if not better.

Though there was more than one way to break an elf. Cold could do that quicker than most, if they did not find either the alleged lair of this frosty mage and get her sorted, the better. Their options were limited but Zevran was not terribly inclined to mercy with the way she had been menacing the travelers and refugees wandering this back road. Nobles and merchants- different story.

It was a sentiment he suspected his new Jenny friend would appreciate.

"I shall endeavor to remain as such." He kept pace easily enough, sketching a short, courtly gesture in lieu of a bow. "Zevran Arainai, at your service."

"Gah, cut the prissy noble bunk. This trip's shit enough."

She wrinkled her nose up at him, then kept the expression in place as she started trudging through the snow again. Bowing and servicing like she needed that kind of mess. Better to let a thousand fantasies play through her head of mage-kabobs and roasted bitch and all the many creative ways she could make a cave explode into a nice, warm burning inferno. Then dance around it, cackling, as feeling came back to her feet and ears.

"There's reasons I never left Denerim much last time I was here. Not any kind of living, is this? Frozen, terrible..."

"Prissy Antivan bunk. There is a difference. Noble bunk would require less talking and a lot more attempting to remain invisible and appealing." They liked their elves lovely and silent in the noble houses of Antiva. It made his work simpler while he had it and frustrating when he was simply trying to make his way through.

"Snow, ice, possibly dragons. Things I miss most about the North: How warm it is even in winter. You would do well there, I think. Less cold, less 'noble bunk' if you are near the docks, and lovely, lovely women." With warm hands and warmer hearths. What he would not give for a proper fire right now.

"Did Orlais for...too long, maybe. But I'd like a noble here, now. Kick his arse up the mountain. Get some snow, make his balls as blue as his blood."

That was a good fantasy too, enough it gets a chuckle even as she struggles through another snow bank. The idea of lovely sailor women was in close competition, but she was all the bloody stabby kinda lust right now. The other kind could wait for camp.

"Blue balls. Good one. Keeping it for the next time I get some stuffy Important person with their breeches off down here."

"Orlesian nobles are more fun if you have the right leverage. The faces they make when you do not bow and scrape? I think I made a man turn purple last week. It was a thing of beauty." Challenging their narrow perception of what an elf should be never failed to delight.

Especially when they were attempting to purchase his services.

"Do you mind if I borrow that?" A common thing with Oghren, a decade ago. With how human and serious most of the Inquisition was he hadn't expected to find similarly creative minds. "It rolls off the tongue nicely."

"The best's when only half the face's showing. Smug little fake gold eyes and a giant gaping mouth. Serves them right. Pretending their face's too lovely-dovey to let the little people even look at 'em."

Not to mention all the talking. She must have wasted a year of her life just waiting for them to shut up so she could slip in and do her service. All the more stolen from People people by the arseholes on top.

"But I don't know. Rolling? I think frozen balls would stick!"

Ah. Even in the snow she still makes herself laugh. Hopefully loudly enough the witchy woman would just hear them and come down the mountain instead of making her climb all the way up.

"I can tell you with great confidence: They are not half so pretty as the masks they wear more often than not." Having gotten a fair share of them either in bed or on the end of his blade or both? It was a simple enough thing to test. Of course when they were pretty- they tended to be very pretty.

Which should come as surprise to no one.

Though on an entirely unrelated note he was surprised enough to crackle with laughter- he hadn't expected that of his companion. Perhaps he should have; if nothing else she has proven herself creatively vulgar. "Now that is something I have never experienced."

Not far, now, but still far enough for Zevran to share the hopes that they would be sought out. This was wearying.

"Balls, or sticky ones?"

Sticking to balls had been the joke, but she's more than happy to leave the door open for more lewd commentary from her elfy friend. Too many people in the Inquisition had a proper stick up their pucker. Sera wasn't one to pass up a moment to revel in how far into the gutter minds can go.

[ooc: I'm up for the witch hitting soon, then doing either fight scene or skipping to post-battle banter.]

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