allthisshitisweird | TEST DRIVE MEME

Entry tags:

! test drive

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

"Truer words have never been spoken. If I hear one more slur out of--" And then she stands upon hearing his latest shout, naturally punching down again with 'knife-ear' and 'rabbit-fucker'. "That'll do."

Timing it just so, she hurls that chair at him when his back is turned and everyone else is too busy beating the snot out of each other. That's enough send his slamming into someone else, who seems to take it personally and promptly switches targets to said prick in armor. Snickering, Korrin plops down before someone thinks to blame her. Not that anyone seems interested in picking a fight with a 'qunari' but just in case. "That ought to keep him busy for a while. Andraste's tits, this is a way more interesting night than I'd have thought it was going to be."

Sera needs a moment to work past the cackling in glee part of the night. There's no grace or beauty to it. In fact, some ale ends up coming out out of her nose as she rocks under her table in laughter.

"Oh- you saw his face, right? 'Blah, blah, I'm a stupid armor-face! Nothing can hurt me! Chair!'"

The cackling quiets down to snorted chuckles as she wipes her nose on the back of her sleeve.

"Chair to the back. Good one. Then fist to the face, ha!"

Okay, the laughing isn't done. But she does manage to push a drink over as she falls back into giggling again.

"Idiots."

That cackling and ale coming out of Sera's nose only serves to set Korrin off again, and she can't help her own burst of laughter, utterly unrepentant. She got her drink, her companion of the moment got some entertainment, everyone's happy. Well, except said prick but who cares about him? No one in this corner, that's who.

"Fucking moron. It was worth coming in just for that. I'd heard him shooting his mouth off before, but even though looming over him to make him shut up is fun at first, it gets old. This brawl gave me the perfect excuse to do what I'd wanted to do anyway. Cheers." She takes an appreciative swig of her well-earned drink.

"Chair!"

She giggles the word to herself as she finally calms down enough to take another sip of her drink, the taste a bit off with all the suds in her nose now. But that didn't matter. She can only see feet and knees from her position, but the cussing and men shoving each other 'round is clear enough. Stupid armor-face-with-even-stupider-armor-bootsies was still getting pummeled. It was a good night.

"Pfft, that's shite. Half the Inquisition's too busy brooding around.'Oh I hate him, oh I hate her. I'm going to post a letter on a board! Well I'm going write a stupid reply on it!'"

Sera blew as raspberry at the idea, ale drops flying out to splatter on some passing drunk's pants.

"Blowing off steam's good. Better to get the punches out here than it bubbling over when you're busy hitting some nug-humping demon worshiper, innit."

Edited (html :c) 2016-03-04 23:08 (UTC)

'Chair' is going to be the new 'titsicles', the thing that sets off another amused snort and almost causes her to choke on her ale. Thankfully she manages to avoid that since who knows when the bartender's going to stop being a coward and toss these morons out. Korrin would do it herself, but...it's free entertainment, at least for now. If they go too far or the drinks run out, then she'll reconsider.

"Heh, you're not wrong about any of that. There's been way too much brooding and not enough fun. Not to say that there aren't reasons, but people need to be snapped out of it before it spirals into something nasty." Like the brawl after the Herald's funeral. It still makes her sick to think about the disrespect shown, and that she could have easily been part of it.

"And I know I'm not immune. So if I'm being a hotheaded dumbass -again- do tell me before it gets to the 'chair in my face' stage. I swear I can shut the fuck up and listen...sometimes."

Sera took a long swig of her drink- okay, she finished her drink. Entirely. The burped into her sleeve before looking at the- oh, yes. The qunari. All big and muscley and...mm.

"Not sure I could get a chair up to your face. Jar of bees, sure. But you're so...well. I heard they came big as you. But didn't believe it. Still. Fired up's better than gloomy and grim. Just throw some pies next time instead, eh? That's funny."

That was fast, but it's not like Korrin's going to judge. She's steadily draining her own, because human brews aren't nearly as strong as her people's drinks and because...well, because she can. Dealing with bears and bandits and idiots all day means she'll do as she pleases now.

The thought of throwing pies gets a chuckle out of her as she raises her mug to that suggestion. "Whatever it takes, right? Those pies will be going to a good cause. Though tossing a jar of bees in and slamming the door is tempting, for all those 'ox' comments when they think I can't hear them. Some people just don't appreciate my big looming self even though I'm not trying to invade or convert people or whatever it is real qunari do."

"Cause terror and trouble, yeah? Like proper elves bow and 'oh, missus, oh, so sorry for being in the way, ma'am. Please let me ask the tree for forgiveness and throw my worthless self off a cliff, miss.'"

She was scowling into her cup now. No good, that. Caring about what stupid people thought a proper whatever should be. Muttering about it was even worse. Clearly the ale wasn't doing the right job. She held up a finger, gesturing the tall lady to hold on for one bit, then rolled out from under the table- and ha! Whiskey. Only a few tables away, forgotten thanks to the owner entering the brawl. Better than moping, that. She was, maybe just a teeny tiny bit, showing off as she dipped and dodged and was a dexterous queen all around as she returned to under the table without a drop spilled. And with all that ale in her from before, at that.

Alright. She was entirely showing off. The lady may be all big and lovely, but Sera was flexible. It counted for something.

"But that's rubbish. Besides the rest, Ox horns don't look like that at all. I think. Those are the...pulling carts ones, innit?"

City elf. She left the livestock to the rural professionals.

That scowling almost prompts a response from Korrin, who doesn't want to see the mood of the evening sour if she can possibly help it. That Sera takes care of it herself by snagging whiskey is much appreciated and that she does it in such obvious, fluid skill gets an admiring grin from the Vashoth woman. Showing off is totally acceptable, and Korrin would be a hypocrite if she decried its use, given her own antics.

"Ha! That was brilliant. Those stumbling oafs deserve to have the better stuff taken away from them when there's clearly someone who can handle it better. Besides, who among them is even going to be awake to appreciate it after this?

And yeah, more or less. Some of us have horns like that, but there's a shit-ton of variety. We definitely don't all look the same." And her horns are far more awesome than a dumb ox's, or at least she thinks so.

"They're all...curly cue."

With her freehand, Sera traces an air shape of Korrin's horns in front of her, very clearly agreeing with the awesome sentiment in general. She could've supported the normal ox type, but these ones were nice. Made it hard to think who'd be wonky enough to bug a mountain with horns, but Sera knew better than to underestimate stupid. The drinks are catching up, though, and her next giggle is clearly more than a little edged in drunk.

"But you gotta cost the Inquisition a fortune in pillows, eh?"

"They make great handles, for shoulder rides." While she still has a ways to go before being truly sloshed, Korrin isn't exactly sober at this point either. She chuckles and reaches for more, trusting that she'll either run out before hitting her limit or that these morons will knock each other out in due time and the bartender will magically reappear.

"Yeah, I've gored my share. That's why I had one modified, so the maids will stop complaining about replacing them. Speaking of goring, I swear I'm not making this up, but I've had repeated incidents of people almost falling on them from above. Just standing below the rookery makes me nervous now; maybe I'll have to take Krem up on getting those horn cozies made, before someone thinks I'm attracting that shit on purpose."

The comment the horns could make great handles in a way more fun situation was knocked straight out of Sera's head as the lady kept talking. Falling on horns from above? It had her sniggering into her whiskey all over again.

"Death From Below! Ha! If you're like Bull and picking your own name, we've got it in one, yeah?"

Mention of Bull has her wrinkling her nose, and she'd rather not dwell on the Ben-Hassrath more than absolutely need be. She's not here to make enemies, but any true Qunari is only an ally in the loosest possible sense. Actual trust is only reserved for those outside the Qun.

"I already have one; no Qun or breaking away from it, for me. It's Korrin, by the way, but I suppose you can call me 'Death From Below' if you really want. It is sort of catchy. Varric calls me Freckles. That works, too."

"Freck-"

Excuse Sera, as she comes in a little too close to Korrin's face to be considered respecting any kind of personal space as she evaluates that nickname. Or don't excuse her. Doesn't much matter to her. She will eventually get on to giving her own name after this very important evaluation.

"The stories don't talk about that, yeah? But there they are. You got 'em too, all dotty and cute."

Even when Korrin's stone-cold sober, she's not all that protective about her personal space unless someone's being an ass. Which Sera isn't, not in her opinion. So she's free to look, though that assessment gets her laughing.

"Blame my dad, he has tons of them. And shh, don't say that too loud. I'm a mercenary, I'm not supposed to be 'cute'." Hmph, the indignity. Though she's having too good a time right now to truly be affronted.

"And who says there's no being both? Tch, 'how we're supposed to be.'"

The mocking of someone else talking is done in a higher octave than her normal voice, leaving open the question just who she's impersonating. But whatever. The point help. A mercenary could be cute, a queen could be ugly, it all just happened as it happened.

"World's supposed to be sane, yeah? You can be as cutesy-wootsy as I please."

"'Cutesy-wootsy'...Maker, that's even worse." Though she's grinning, so there's that. It's not often that she -or anything about her, really- is referred to as cute. Some part of her is flattered even as she wouldn't care for that to become a common description. "But fair enough, living according to everyone's expectations is exhausting anyway. The Inquisition's been pretty good about that, actually. No seems to give a fuck what you are or are 'supposed to be' as long as you're pulling your weight now. I can live with that."

"What you do, yeah. Herald was a good one about that."

It was, if she even admitted it, one of the reasons she'd been off on Jenny business so long. The Herald off and dying like that. It wasn't supposed to be that way. They were supposed to be one of the good ones on top. At least for a bit. But while it had a bit of a sad edge now, she still smiled at the fact it had held on.

"But look at all this. More fun's needed. Show how we're all the same kind of stupid. Whole Inquisition feels like a funeral that never ended. Let's all this kinda shite build up."

Korrin's smile also has a sad tinge. She was there ever since the Conclave blew up, and while she didn't know the Herald personally, the Vashoth mage saw the effect her actions had on everyone. And then one horrible night took that all away, their Herald and their base. It still hurts to think about, but she's not going to get all weepy in the middle of a bar fight.

So she'll do her best to shove those feelings aside and nod in firm agreement with Sera. "Hell, yeah. If you want company for that, I'm in. It's better than griping about what I can't help, any day."

"Ha! Right."

She crawls that half foot over to Korrin, coming up on her knees and resting her hands on the woman's legs (oh, and they were as hard as the looked, Andraste's tits) so she could actually get her face up close enough to meet her eyes.

"I've got a plan."

As not-sober and casual as Korrin is anyway, Sera's invasion of personal space doesn't seem to bother her at all. Instead, she raises an eyebrow and looks interested at that statement.

"Yeah? Go on...."

"First, we need out of here, yeah?"

She waves vaguely, her whole coordination starting to get a bit thrown off, towards the door.

"Think you can do it?"

Korrin eyes the door for a moment, making her own silent assessment, before she nods. "I'm not so deep in my cups that I can't manage that. And if you need a lift, I can bring you along, too." It's the least she can do for the evening's entertainment.

"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."

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)

TEST DRIVE MEME

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)