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Fade Rift Mods ([personal profile] faderifting) wrote in [community profile] allthisshitisweird2016-04-16 01:02 pm
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TEST DRIVE MEME!

WHAT A GLOOORIOUS FEELING



WE'RE STILL IN THE HINTERLANDS


How’s the weather, Inquisition? Terrible. Heavy rainfall pelts the plains and the mountains, four straight days of it! Dark clouds block out the sun. It may begin to feel like there’s no end to the storms in sight. When darkness falls, cold evening temperatures turn that rain frigid. Your boots, your socks, they’re soaked through. Everyone smells like wet wool.

And as if all that weren’t enough: the increased rainfall loosens patches of mud and shale, causing mudslides.



1. We’re not in Orzammar anymore…
A recent group of dwarven traders bearing fine crafts and goods were inbound for Skyhold, ready to flood the markets with their wares. Instead, they got flooded out.

Yes, word has reached the Inquisition that the traders have been unfortunately detained by the weather and they are now in need of a rescue. Dare you venture out into the lashing rain and sliding mud to rescue the traders?

If you do so dare, you’ll find some of the traders to be exceedingly grateful for your efforts, ready to bestow handsome rewards on you, O Brave Soul -- just as soon as you’ve escorted them safely back to Skyhold. Or you might find a cluster of more disagreeable traders, grumpy at the water in their boots and the loss of their goods. Some of those goods might still be rescuable, if you want to wade out into a mud field to retrieve a fallen chest, or tug an errant terrified donkey back onto what’s passing for dry road these days.

As you carry these treasures back to their masters, or back to Skyhold, you might consider helping yourself to a sampling of the wares on your way back. After all, your reward might not be adequate, and you are risking your life for these ungrateful sons of mothers. Just don’t get caught. These traders don’t look kindly on thieves, and frayed tempers snap easily.

Feel free to get stuck on your way to the rescue, too. Weather out the storm with a fellow do-gooder. These days, the rescuers might need rescuing just as much.

2. Are you mad? That’s twelve year old scotch!
In Skyhold and the surrounding tent towns, what with the confusion and the panic and the scramble for high ground, market stalls are left unattended and wares are ripe for the taking. For some, temptation proves to be too much. Where there’s disaster, there’s often looting! A few vendors defend their own wares, and those that can’t make desperate entreaties for assistance. Bandits! Thieves!

Are you a brave and hale friend to the Inquisition and to good honest trade, ready to defend the wares of the waterlogged merchants? Or maybe your sticky fingers spot a tempting treasure too great to ignore. If they didn’t want it stolen, they should have taken it with them! Watch out for that Qunari metalsmith with the mean right hook. He’s not to be trifled with, and his blow will leave you toothless in the mud.

3. I gotta go, Julia, we got bears.
The rainfall has disturbed more than the mud. Bears, resting in their caves, have found their caves to be too damp for their liking, and they’ve taken to the open air to vent their spleens. Some people say that the bears are as frightened as you are, but when you’re faced with a six hundred pound beast with huge pointy teeth, their innocence is a little harder to keep in perspective.

The tents surrounding greater Skyhold are especially worried by rogue bears. Make a stand against them, or else help evacuate a threatened campsite. Mudwrestling a bear is a great way to impress the ladies, or the gentlemen… but no one will blame you for beating a hasty retreat.

4. We got 12 skins of water, 56 ales, two vodkas, four whiskeys, six bottles of wine, tequila, hazelnut paste, cheese, bread, eggs, bananas, apples, bacon, steaks, pancakes, dry grain, milk, sweet tomato sauce, half a pudding, half-ounce Sour Wine, 3 1/2 grams Grand Inquisitor Kush, one ounce of 'shrooms, 15 ecstasy potions, a smutty woodcut, a bat…
TIME TO HUNKER DOWN. In the tavern, the barkeep is handing out free spiced wine to anyone who takes refuge behind her door. The din of conversation and lutesong makes a fine lullabye for the careworn traveler, and you might find yourself inadvertently dropping off to sleep. Or maybe someone’s fallen asleep on you.

Who can blame the slumberers, finally safe and warm and dry? In the tavern, the fires have been built up to ward off the chill and the damp, but relaxation is a little more difficult these days. You really have to elbow your way in there to get close to that warmth. Once you get close enough, you’ll find that the hearths are taken up with dozens and dozens of wet socks and wetter boots, steaming gently as they dry. Be disgusted if you want, or else peel off your own and go barefoot while you wait.

Hey! What’s going on over there? Someone’s taking one of your socks! Stop, thief!

If you can’t make it to the tavern, you might find yourself holed up somewhere a little more unlikely. The limited space within Skyhold means there aren’t a lot of free rooms. That door you shoulder open in desperation might have an owner already. Intrusions aren’t always unwelcome, but beware of what -- or who! -- you might find.

5. Lots of fish… and lots of weather.
WILDCARD. Whatever you do, just remember: there’s a lot of rain, you’re very wet, and if you’re feeling amorous, keep in mind that everyone smells like wet wool. We cannot stress this enough.
scalethewall: (05)

[personal profile] scalethewall 2016-04-20 04:18 am (UTC)(link)
"Massive, muddy and sodden? Sounds very fine, indeed. Good to see you're open minded enough to warm up to our barbaric Southern ideals," He chuckles, putting a bit of distance between himself and the elf so they might cover more ground and, ideally, be able to spot bears or anything else that might want to kill them with a little more efficiency.

He shuffles a few stray planks of wood he comes across with the toe of his boot, but upon closer inspection it definitely isn't what they're looking for.

"Maybe not an elf thing, no, but I thought assassins were supposed to be light on their feet. Agile." Face it, getting stuck in the mud was less than graceful.
ombranera: (Oh you)

[personal profile] ombranera 2016-04-20 04:28 am (UTC)(link)
"As long as I might still have some spice to my food and one day of sunshine a month? I can manage." The South has it's charms- most of them it's people. The food leaves one wanting and the weather is miserable, but the people? Marvelous.

"You try landing light from a twenty five foot drop." He'd landed silently! But. Sunk upon impact. These things they do happen. He pauses to peer at the map, squinting about the hills for a moment before moving onward. "Avoiding a different bear. Why do they come in packs?"
scalethewall: (Default)

[personal profile] scalethewall 2016-04-23 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
"Spice and a day of sunshine?" He asks, feigning shock, "I'd heard you Northerners were greedy, but that's quite the request."

He pauses by what looks to be an old campsite, a singular tattered tent. If it'd belonged to wardens, there was no sign of any of their supplies left behind. He gives up on it and turns his attention back to the elf, scanning the treeline behind him for unwanted visitors.

"You ever been to Orlais? They seem to be one of the only places immune to our Southern rain. Decent food too."
ombranera: (Not a bad look for you!)

[personal profile] ombranera 2016-04-23 04:24 am (UTC)(link)
"Add on a bottle of decent wine and you'd practically call me Orlesian." He crackles a low laugh, squinting at a fire pit to the east. It takes a bit of scrambling to get up the hill without slipping back into the mud- but there it is. The first of the crates.

"I have worked in Orlais quite a bit in the past few years. Lovely men, gorgeous women, half decent wine, excellent chocolate- too much butter in everything but the tiny cakes." Which could always use a little more, in Zevran's opinion.
scalethewall: (Default)

[personal profile] scalethewall 2016-04-24 07:03 pm (UTC)(link)
"Find something?" Blackwall kept his distance in spite of his curiosity. The assassin really only had his word and the armor he wore that said he was truly a Grey Warden and nod a bandit. Likewise, Blackwall was in a similar position. Their loose alliance was just that. Years of being on the road had made the Warden overly cautious and suspicious.

He watched him pick up the crate, focus moving back to the conversation. "Lovely men and gorgeous women? How can you tell under those masks and all that frilly fabric?" He joked, though the easy answer there was 'take it off'.