allthisshitisweird | Test Drive Meme!

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Test Drive Meme!

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!!

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Fortunately, I have never been attributed an overabundance of wisdom.

[ Ah, now it holds still. Moments like this he almost misses Morrigan.

Almost.

It gives him the time he needs to spear it through the eye with an envenomed arrow- and a knife to the skull just to be certain. When the creature vanishes as demons are wont to do, Zevran slips down from the branch, landing silently. ]

You have my thanks, Ser...?

[With the demon dead he lets go of the collar, leaving the mabari to give a quiet whuff of discontent at being denied his fight and glower unhappily at the elf who took it from him.]

Daylen. [He's half surprised not to see any other elves, but then again if there was then surely they would have helped him.]

Is your clan nearby?

[Apparently Zevran isn't the only one not to have been attributed an overabundance of wisdom.]

Edited 2015-10-01 21:35 (UTC)

Daylen and his mighty Mabari. You remind me much of another hound- though I think he was a good deal less...slobbery. Or that may be nostalgia coloring my memories. Either way, you have my thanks.

[ Ones his dagger is sheathed and his arrows retrieved he goes so far as to begin sweeping into a bow-

only to halt mid gesture at that question. ]

Beg pardon?

Edited (small typo.) 2015-10-01 21:41 (UTC)

His name's Dougal.

[At least it is since he took to following Daylen about. He can only assume Dougal's previous owner met an unpleasant end in all the fighting that's been going on, so whatever his original name was remains a mystery.

Regardless, he doesn't appreciate being called slobbery. He grumbles unhappily, mouth firmly shut to prove he is not at all slobbery. (Spoilers: he is.)

Daylen falters at the elf's confusion, suddenly not so certain about his original assumption. But why else would he have a tattoo on his face?]

You're Dalish. Aren't you?

Of course it is. [ Fereldens and their dogs, giving them people names. A dog is a dog, even if Mabari are proven to be highly intelligent.

Zevran straightens slowly, eyes narrowing. ]

Do these look like any Vallaslin you've ever seen before- or have you come across others in these woods with this mrarking upon their face?

No, but--

[But he knows very little about the Dalish, or really any elf that outside the ones in the Circle.]

There are lots of vallaslin I haven't seen before. I thought...

[Not much of anything really. He'd simply assumed.]

All the better, else you'd be in more danger than the average apostate wandering about the woods. [ The Crows did not care to be found while working in seclusion. ] These are not Vallaslin. They are markings courtesy of the Antivan Crows. Should you see anyone else with such a tattoo and they are not actively attempting to kill you? I would recommend keeping a wary eye upon them.

Oh. Thank you.

[He's too embarrassed by his mistake to be as stung as he would normally to be branded an apostate, though that's what all mages are by now. He considers him uncertainly, suddenly unsure of how safe he is even with the demon now gone.]

Does that include you?

Mmm? [ One arrow was scorched into uselessness- the head he cuts from the haft and the remainder is snapped into kindling for the night's bonfire. ] I am a former Crow. You're in no danger from me unless someone pays me to kill you. Though my price for mages tends to be beyond most potential employers. Unless you're a blood mage- they come with a discount."

I don't care for blood mages.

[Even if he hadn't spoken the frown that crosses his face would probably make his feelings on that matter clear. He's not quite sure how to feel about talking to someone who's so open about killing people for a living, but he at least doesn't seem to mean any harm to him personally.]

I'm sorry for my assumption. I don't know much about Antivan Crows, or Dalish. [Or anyone else really. He's read books about many kinds of people, but he's been discovering more and more recently that's not the same as meeting them.]

I don't believe I caught your name before.

Not many do, save other blood mages or demons. [ He finishes unstringing his bow and repacking his quiver. ] You are either horribly sheltered or fresh from a tower- or at least what is left of them.

[ It's not often Mage circles left their students so unprepared for the world- but then it's been years since the towers functioned as they should. It was what it was. ]

Zevran Arainai. Thank you again for your assistance- though it seems I need to find One Eye'd Jimmy and inform him of his formerly demonic ram. I suspect I shall not be paid for returning a corpse.

Not as fresh as I'd like.

[If he had a choice he'd still be there. Better for him and everyone else. Sadly, he doesn't, so apostasy it is.]

Perhaps not, but better that than returning him a demon. Do you think he knew?

Honestly? I cannot be certain. He lacked the usual baggy under eyes and drawn, sallow skin of one in the covenant of a demon. I shall see when I speak to him- some humans can be incredibly obtuse when they wish.

[ He makes no mention of Daylen's earlier confusion- it cannot be helped. ]

In case he is put out about losing his familiar, a second pair of eyes and ears- and a set of fangs, may assist should he express his displeasure.

You can't always tell just by looking.

[He's been told that for as long as he can remember, and though it was a long time ago he remembers all too well Kinloch Hold's fall to blood magic and demons.]

All right. I suppose it would be wise to confront him with numbers, though I should warn you I'm more skilled in healing than combat.

[Dougal huffs at his side, a reminder that he's there and he is a war hound.]

No, but bloodpacts and blood mages tend to have a particular look about them- and manner- if you have seen it often enough. While it does not lead me to treat everyone that appears such unkindly I cannot be blamed for treating them with caution, yes?

[ Paranoia kept a man alive, or so the saying goes. And if it did not? Certainly it should. ]

A fearsome Mabari warrior and a most handsome healer. I am fortunate indeed to be in your company.

I've never noticed that.

[Perhaps he should, but the only things in the Circle that have turned his head are suspicious behaviours. Usually turning out to have nothing to do with blood magic and much more to do with poorly hidden relations.

He reddens more than such a tame compliment calls for, suddenly avoiding eye contact since clearly the ground just over there is extremely fascinating. The mabari takes things much more smoothly, head raised proudly and tail wagging briefly in acknowledgement. Daylen clears his throat.]

Shall we go then?

Ah, he blushes. [ And Zevran smells proverbial blood in the water. ] A shy, handsome warrior, then. Doubly fortunate am I.

But yes, we should go while our boots have leather to them. The town was some miles to the south.

I'm not shy. Just... [Awkward. And unused to flirtations from men he's just met.

He looks up to the gap in the trees above, using the sun to assess the direction before turning to the south.]

South, you say?

Unaccustomed to compliments? [ Zevran crackles a laugh. ] A pity. I would have thought you to be showered with them.

South I said, yes.

I don't know you!

[On the plus side walking gives him an excuse to do something else. Maybe finding this town will distract him. He is the one who knows where they're going.]

You don't know me yet. I am hoping to change that.

[ Walking and talking and flirting are three things he can do well. All at the same time, in fact! He turns back the way he'd come, confident that his newly found entourage would follow. ]

[Follow he does, but keeps from being too close to his side.]

It doesn't concern you that I'm a mage?

[He'd always thought that would scare off people outside the Circle. Apparently an incorrect assumption in this case.]

Some of my favorite people have been mages. [ And some of his least favorite, but that was just how it was sometimes. ] All it does is open up quite a few new and exciting possibilities for both of us.

Occasionally too exciting. A girl once told me she could make the earth move for me. I didn't realise she meant it literally.

[Not to mention she'd cast the spell far more powerfully than a joke had warranted. They'd both been in trouble for that.]

I find the figurative moving to be much more enjoyable. [ One too many avalanches would do that. ] And twice as satisfying.

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stumbling - 2015-10-07 17:34 (UTC) - Expand

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antivanleather - 2015-10-07 22:11 (UTC) - Expand

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