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

1.

[dashing]

( 'Not entirely disastrous' would be her professional assessment of the situation. Compared to many things it was just moderately bad, but many things included walking through the shattered remains of the White Spire when there was nothing left but echoes and corpses allowed to rot - corpses of the faithful, of mages who had loved Andraste well.

Herian could accept that perhaps her definition of 'disastrous' wasn't on a reasonably scale for most people, and it was easier to list accidentally invoking the ire of a bear as less terrible than it might be when you weren't the one staring it down.

Breaking the line of trees, Herian slides down the slope, intercepting the young. ) Not that way.

( A cliff lies that way - the Hinterlands seems to have an enthusiasm for bears and steep slopes, both excellent ways for the unwary to see themselves dead.

Her voice is strongly Starkhaven, sword in hand, and she nods towards the slope, unappealing a prospect as it may be. There isn't time to make communications about horses or anything else. ) With me.

[unsullies]

[ Dany isn't about to argue with the woman holding the sword. She'd already gotten lost trying to make it back to camp, and Herian seems confident, at least, and well-armed. The Targaryen girl with no weapons experience to speak of is grateful for all of the sword arms who seem willing enough to protect a complete stranger, though she's also exasperated that she can't find her own way in one piece. ]

Thank you, my lady. [ Comes the quiet response. There are likely still creatures nearby, maybe wolves, she thinks, knowing what she knows of the Hinterlands. The bear is an enormous danger, of course, but they may be able to sneak away if it stays to watch its young.

For now, there isn't much to say. Dany follows the stranger silently, violet eyes wide and watchful as they move. ]

[dashing]

( My lady. If they weren't in danger of being chased by a bear - and she's not well enough acquainted with bears to know with any certainty they aren't - she might even crack a smile, give the young woman a look. )

Save your breath for running.

( Quiet, hypocritical, blunt - but not unkind, as she throws a glance over her shoulder, twisting so her back is towards her new company and not the bear. A knight should never turn their back upon their foe, even when their foe is not treacherous so much as... well. A bear. Instinctive might be the better word. )

There's a horse at the top of the hill. He's very safe.

( The bear lumbers forward, and the heat of its breath is visible in the air, and Herian's lip curls in an echo of its own snarl. ) Go now.