TEST DRIVE MEME!

[faderifting]

Guess.

go on, guess.

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 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. BEARIED ALIVE

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. NICE PLACE FOR A SPOT OF CAMPING

If there were an inn, which there's not, there wouldn't be room for you in it. Traveling with the Inquisition means carrying your own bedrolls, putting up your own tents, and sleeping alongside whoever you've been told to share with--no matter how much you hate them or how loud they snore. If you really can't stand it, the alternative is sleeping outside. On the ground. With the bears.

3. A BIG CRAZY LIGHT IN THE SKY

Not everyone thinks the Breach was a bad thing. In the southeastern mountains, a burgeoning cult has taken up residence in Winterwatch Tower to wait patiently for the Maker to reach through the tears in the veil and gather the faithful to his bosom. They're a little kooky, maybe, but harmless, and they're happy enough to share their wine and lager with travelers in the area. The demon-spewing rift behind the Tower, on the other hand... Too bad the Herald didn't close that thing before she bit it. Watch your step.

4. TROUBLE IN THE DEEP

The Carta is everywhere, but it's here in force, occupying dwarven ruins in a chasm behind a waterfall. Inquisition forces have already cleared most of the smugglers out of the hold, but there's still a vault to break into, bodies to loot, and old texts to search through for anything worth adding to the Inquisition's growing archives. Also: darkspawn. Sorry.

5. 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.

Comments

[ettersberg]

( nightingale has never heard of circles, and templars are a thing of the past in his world. he doesn't know ferelden and he doesn't know any of the conventions or lack thereof that exist here. all he has to go off when forming an opinion of her is what he sees, interpreted through his own frame of reference, and her behaviour.

the staff reminds him of his own; the sword is a little more troublesome, or it would be if he hadn't been here for a few days already, if he hadn't already realised that this dimension is unlike his own in many regards. )

I've managed. ( comes his dry response to her observation. he stands, because it is polite to stand when greeting someone and some manners are ingrained in him, and gestures in invitation for her to join him by the meagre fire he's built. it's beginning to grow into something that may yet give off some actual warmth. )

Would you care to join me?

[dashing]

( The stranger stands, and Herian inclines her head in a very slight bow respectful rather than reverent. )

I'd greatly appreciate a place at your fire, thank you.

( Travelling alone is never easy. Strangers are not always friendly, and friendliness cannot always be trusted for what it is. Not for the first time, Herian is well aware of the sanctuary that mages have in their Circles, and what she owed to the Templars of Hasmal. Those were honourable men and women, but there is no reason to assume a stranger cannot be honourable as well. Not immediately, at any rate. )

I don't have a lot, ( She starts, letting a small pack slide from her shoulder, ) But you're welcome to this.

( And she holds it out - bread, hard cheese, a couple of wild apples that are bitter rather than sweet, and a flask of water. When Herian speaks her voice is calm, even. )

I'm Knight Enchanter Herian Amsel, of the Hasmal Circle. May I ask your name?

[ettersberg]

( knight enchanter is quite a title, and while it sparks the imagination, it doesn't actually tell nightingale anything concrete. he lacks the frame of reference for that, too, and he's never been prone to flights of fancy or letting his imagination run wild.

he inclines his head in a silent thanks when she offers bread, cheese and some apples, gesturing again for her to sit if she'd like. and because he understands the importance of gestures and of shows of peacefulness, he is the first to sit again, putting himself in a comparatively more vulnerable position.

of course, he isn't actually vulnerable, but it is the thought that counts, is it not? )

It's Nightingale. Thomas Nightingale.

( he has titles — dci, mainly, but others — but he refrains from mentioning them. he doubts they would tell her much of anything. )