Test Drive Meme!

[faderifting]

You'll Never Leave the Hinterlands Alive*

Welcome to Fade Rift's very first Test Drive Meme! Use one of the prompts below or make up your own, and tag around! Have fun, try out the setting, generate samples for your app, coerce your friends into joining you.

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, early fall finds 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.

1. In the Deep Dark Hills of Western Ferelden

You have turned the wrong corner, forded the wrong stream, crested the wrong hill, entered the wrong cave. Maybe you are far from camp. Maybe you are in camp. Whatever has happened, wherever you are: you are being chased by bears. Did you provoke the bears? Are they huge? Babies? Fade-touched? Mage-controlled? What are they chasing you away from? What are they chasing you into? What do you plan to make out of their hide if you kill them? What do you think they'll craft out of your hide if they kill you?

2. There I Read on a Hillside Gravestone

The rebel mages and renegade templars have ravaged the Hinterlands, skirmishes breaking out all over. It looks like you've just missed one-- great spikes of ice melt slowly in the cool autumn sunlight and patches of grass and trees have been scorched away. Three bodies are scattered about, two templars and one mage judging by their clothing. You could bury them. Or search their pockets. Or track their friends. Or all of the above, if you're feeling industrious.

3. Won't You Walk With Me Out the Mouth of this Holler

Whatever task you were actually sent out here to do, you are going to be late. One-Eyed Jimmy asked so nicely for your help finding his prize ram, Lord Woolsley. It's been in the family for years, so smart for a ram, it's a good luck charm, their business has boomed with it around, and it's lived for so long, he just can't abide thinking of it getting eaten by some mangy apostate. And then he went and offered you money, too. How could you say no? Maybe you're still wandering, asking everyone you pass if they've seen a ram that looks like it's wearing an orangey-red sweater. Maybe you've found it and are chasing it around a lake or trying to lead it back to the village for your reward. Maybe you've gotten fed up and gotten out your sword to bring Jimmy a new sweater instead and discovered that lucky Lord Woolsley is a demon in sheep's clothing. Surprise!

4. Fill Your Cup With Whatever Bitter Brew You're Drinking

Just because the region's had a rough time lately doesn't mean the tavern at Redcliffe is any less crowded than usual. Bella behind the bar dishes out tankards to refugees and soldiers, scared villagers and angry farmers, merchants traveling through from Orzammar and Orlais and families fleeing the rifts in the foothills. It's packed, basically. The Inquisition has only recently extended its influence into the region, and while some have already seen the benefit-- demons killed, fighting broken up-- others are skeptical.

5. Spend Your Life Just Thinkin' of How to Get Away

Choose Your Own Adventure: hunt game, kill demons, gather herbs, track bandits, haggle over the price of armor, fall off a deceptively tall rock, 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, rummage around in empty homes, run from a dragon, cry over how cute that fennec fox you just shot was, set up camp and chat around the fire, knock yourself out (figuratively, or even literally if that's more your speed)-- the Hinterlands are your Frostback Mountain oyster.

*Yeah, I had this stuck in my head. It's a good song!!

Comments

[antivanleather]

For one, not dressing quite so much like a mage helps immensely. I have never understood why a group of people that have such recognizable attire and are aware that they are to be tracked down and either captured or killed insist on...continuing to wear said attire. Light leather armor works just as well. Mages that have blades attached to the end of their staff can also get away with calling it a glaive or some other such pole arm rather than a staff.

Not casting magic around a templar is also important- that should go without saying but I have known a few apostates that did not listen to common sense and were nearly shackled for it.

[serannas]

Hmm.

[ Ellana glances down at her outfit. ]

Do you think they would perhaps not recognize Dalish mage robes as such? I suppose it doesn't matter, since my staff can't pass as anything else.

[antivanleather]

Unless it can be passed off as a dress- a robe is a robe, unfortunately. Though they are less likely to attempt much with Dalish mages- something about a wild tree witch up in Amaranthine some years ago, impaling men in brambles. If it weren't for the mention that she were Dalish, I'd think her to be an old friend.

But what coin we earn for finding this ram will surely pay for proper armor. A pity Wade and Herren are no longer answering my letters, else I'd have the perfect smith to recommend to you.

[serannas]

Oh! I can't do that. It sounds like something my Keeper might be able to, though.

[ Since they're on this quest together, they had better get started. She continues on in the direction she'd been headed before stopping him. ]

I'm Ellana. These people -- why do they no longer answer your letters?

[antivanleather]

Zevran Arainai, at your service. [ He falls into step easily, tugging his hood back up to hide the markings on his face. ] Well Wade would certainly be glad to continue creating armor for me but Herren, his partner, is frustrated with Wade's tenancy to forsake all else in the pursuit of perfection. His ban on my orders will likely last until the end of the year. When winter comes Wade wears him down and we start the cycle anew.

[serannas]

Oh, very focused, is he? That does tend to let other things fall back in importance.

[ As she speaks, she keeps an eye out for that very special ram. ]

What do you think of everything that's happened recently with the Inquisition?

[antivanleather]

I think they, like most groups of individuals tasked with such things, mean well. [ Whether good comes from it in the long run only time will tell- but he is terribly curious of some whispers he has heard of those that are a part of it. The 'Sister Nightengale' individual in particular. ] A great many people begin such things meaning well. Intent and the results of said intent, however are vastly different beasts.

[serannas]

That's very true. But I'm hoping for the best. If it turns out the Inquisition doesn't bring peace or address the big problems, then those of us from my clan who came to help will find a way to help on our own.

[antivanleather]

Mmm. A Dalish Optimist. I hadn't thought that was possible. [ Not that all were cynics but- idealism wasn't rampant among those he'd known. The world wasn't built for it. ] If your clan has a way to seal these very colorful tears in the sky, I would love to hear it. I should hate to think it would spread so far as Antiva.

[serannas]

[ She shoots him a look that's faintly amused. He doesn't have to tell her that the Dalish always look for the worst in everything. Everything is sorrow and loss, bitterness and old wounds. All Ellana wants is for her people to move forward. Which is why she's here, trying to help in whatever way she can so there will still be a world to live in. ]

Unfortunately not, but this Herald of Andraste needs a clear path to reach them, doesn't she?

[ And then, registering what he's said: ]

You're from Antiva? Will you tell me about it?

[antivanleather]

Provided the Herald doesn't find themselves dead in short order. Individuals of such power are often targets- or stray into areas far too dangerous for their own good. [ Ah, heroes. How often do they die in the tales? Terribly often.

The Warden had been, after all, a fine exception. ]

Mhmm. What would you wish to hear? Of her glittering port and the aroma of spices from lands beyond the sea? Of our music and sensual dancing? Of our governing body of merchant princes, such as they are? I've a tale for all and we quite likely have a fair way to walk to find this Ram.

[serannas]

[ Well he's certainly being a cynic for someone who isn't Dalish, isn't he now? ]

Yes, all of it! Any of it. Whatever you wish to tell.

[ She makes no secret that despite all the moving, she's been sheltered. She's the third mage in the clan and has never been allowed to stray far past their camp until now. ]

[antivanleather]

[ Pragmatism often seems like cynicism, but it tends to pay well to be both as an assassin. Which- isn't something he's going to bring up at the moment. ]

On a day such as this I would speak of Antiva City- the glittering jewel of Antiva, and it's port. We trade many goods in my country and all of them flow through Antiva City, out into the rest of Thedas. Our wines and brandies are the finest in all of Thedas- do not let anyone from Orlais tell you differntly. They are lying. Orlesian wine is overpriced, poorly made, and bottled with no thought to the vintage. While every vine deserves it's own bottle there is no point in gilding it or adding a bejeweld cork. It is wine, it is meant to be consumed with a fine meal in the company of a lovely woman or handsome man- not set upon a shelf and forgotten unless one is showing off to company.

[ Here he gives a fluid, eloquent flick of the wrist and fingers to an imaginary shelf, putting on a posh, albeit foppish, Orlesian accent. ] And here we have my collection of fermented grape juice from a vinyard that employs only the most beautiful virgins- what? You wish to drink it? Perish the thought!

[ The act drops. ]

And other such nonsense. Life is meant to be enjoyed and that? That is what it means to be Antivan. To enjoy all of life to the fullest- and to share that enjoyment with those that have yet to be enlightened.

[serannas]

[ Ellana is enthralled. If he wanted a captive audience, he's found it in her. In fact, she's having a hard time splitting her attention between walking and listening, but so far they're on a path and there are no rocks to trip over. ]

It sounds incredible! Though I'm not surprised Orlais is like that. They're the ones who did an Exalted March on my people, and it sounds like they've been wasteful ever since.

[ There's a pause as she considers him. ]

I know little of Antiva, as you can imagine, but did the elves there come from the Dales once too?

[antivanleather]

Not all of Orlais is terrible- the fashion is fascinating, the balls grand, the gardens verdant, the people quite lovely but dangerous- for all the court and most of the country for want to become a part of the court take part in The Game. Even when they take off their gilded masks they wear another under that, and another still for the sake of learning secrets and using them to bargain for a higher standing. Working there was...complicated, but an interesting change of pace.

[ Sure he'd earned a few scars, been poisoned twice, and nearly fallen off the roof of a tower but he'd killed his mark, made it look like an accident, and returned with a bevy of new hearts, tales, and fine trinkets under his belt. ]

Aahh, the Antivan Dalish. They did, yes, but tend to be a bit more violent to outsiders than your average clan. Considering Antiva was built on the back of merchants, pirates, brigands and assassins? I honestly cannot blame them.

[serannas]

I'm not sure all that would be for me, even if I was a human. Secrets and blackmail aren't really my idea of a good time.

[ Good thing she has no reason to be deep in Orlais, right? ]

Really? I'm sure there are others among the Dalish who would agree that the more violent, the better, but I wouldn't be one of them. It sounds like a hard life, with all those types around.

[antivanleather]

It is a fine way to be left to their own devices. Only the young and the foolish attempt to meet with them. [ He had been both, bolstered by tales of his mother. A pity he had not spared himself the disappointment. ] Now Antiva is much more honest than Orlais. If someone speaks to you, they mean what they say- usually an alternate intention is simply attempting to get you into bed.

[serannas]

I appreciate honesty, especially when trying to bed me.

[ Don't ask. ]

I doubt my travels now will ever take me towards your country. It is quite a distance away, isn't it?

[antivanleather]

I shall have to remember that.

[ His grin becomes sly for a moment before he moves along. ]

Far, far to the north, past the Free Marches and Navarra. It is much warmer there this time of year- how I miss the smell of the sea and the sultry warmth of the coast. Here we have...mud. More mud. Rain. Snow. And dogs.

[serannas]

Oh, I like the dogs! They're sweet. I mean, I know about the big war dogs too, but as long as they're not in a war against me, they're quite friendly.

[ She chuckles. ]

But I won't disagree on the mud. I've been wanting to try out a pair of boots, but I'm not sure what my clan mates here will think. They might say I'm going human. Not that liking human culture should be a surprise to them.

[ It's been kept a secret from the clan as a whole, but the ones her age know how curious she is about humans; about anything outside their little world, really. Gavin's travels would bring her human trinkets, and Cyril once gifted her with a silly human romance novel he lifted off a person in the woods while hunting. They know how much she wants to learn. ]

But cold mud on bare feet is awful. The way it smears itself on, soon you're trying not to slide all over the place.

omg she's like a dalish ariel i love it.

[antivanleather]

They are quite charming, are they not? Terribly intelligent, incredible in battle, and quite friendly. And the Mabari aren't terribly awful either!

[ It is almost enough to make him miss the Warden's fine battlehound- but Nostalgia is not something he tries to put too much stock in. What is is. What was, was. What will be is yet to be determined so it's best to stack the deck in your own favor. ]

What do Dalish do if the path muddy? Endure? While I understand thoroughly the need to divorce themselves from all things human- you've very good reason and I respect that, making life more difficult for yourselves doesn't seem terribly wise.

that is exactly what i call her, so yes!

[serannas]

That's all we've ever done, it seems. But yes, we deal with it until we can find a stream to wash up in, or it dries enough to flake off.

[ Which is why she needs to get her hands on some boots. Maybe the reward money can go towards a pair? ]

Look, there. [ She points ahead. ] Rams. No sign of our Lord Woolsey, but he might be around here.

Look at those shems, aren't they neat

[antivanleather]

Rams do tend to try to find their own company when they wander. This is not the first I've had to fetch- though it is the first that was so brightly colored. And one that is not dragging a bejeweled chariot. [ A beat. ] Orlesians throw the most fascinating parties.

how many wonders can one aravel hold?

[serannas]

[ Ellana lets out a surprised laugh. ]

Truly? Why would they put jewels on a chariot in the first place?

[ It would just weigh it down, wouldn't it? ]

Maybe over this hill we'll find this elusive ram.

I wanna be where the humans are, I wanna see, wanna see them fighting

[antivanleather]

I did not think to ask. They were more put out over the ram going missing than they were the chariot- something about breeds and bloodlines- I stopped listening somewhere in the middle, thoroughly distracted by the lady's plunging neckline. She would- [ He holds his hands in front of his chest, mimicking a large bosom that jiggles as he walks. ] I was enraptured- Surely one wrong move and she would spill out. It must have been an enchanted bodice.