#Tevinter Files

[pinkvbay]

Tevinter Files 2

This one goes out to you in specific @just-linkr

[arlathen]

saw someone describe all the factions in veilguard as having had the edges sanded off them and that just like snapped it that's exactly what it is.

what's so weird is like. tevinter nights WAS dark. inquisition didnt shy away from awful fucked up things. trespasser gave me a better idea of why ghilan'nain was terrible and had to be stopped than veilguard did when they included codex entries about her making armor out of living people. where was the horror of hormak type quest in this? why was it all just big pustules we had to explode?

the crows own treviso -- *a syndicate of crime families* owns treviso. why was that not problematized or discussed at all? how do the people who live in treviso feel about the crows -- are they blithely grateful because at least it's not the antaam?? why are the wardens bland heroes and not the same faction that will do anything to end the blights? who takes criminals and blood mages? what do the shadow dragons actually DO? fight the venatori? why do we never have moments where we pass these rooms full of dead bodies sacrificed to fuel blood magic where anyone says ANYTHING about the horror and tragedy of it all? where's the slavery in tevinter? why do we never see the people an entire faction in this game is trying to protect? why are the veil jumpers -- ostensibly the "dalish" faction -- already on board with fighting the gods they supposedly worship? why are the dalish towns run by human mayors? why have the lords of fortune -- LITERAL pirates -- ~always return cultural artifacts~? like that's the right, moral thing to do -- but in a story, things do not have to be moral. it would be so much more interesting to have there be conflict within the faction about that. isabela is okay with stealing the tome of koslun but not with slavery and that was interesting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

like i hate to be one of those 'buh buh buh its not dark fantasy anymore!!!!!' idiots but it does feel like anything slightly complicated or not morally perfect got scrubbed away until........ i mean it honestly only barely feels like dragon age. and that's disappointing.

[gob-hob]

Sometimes you ever just think about the cautionary tale of Viago "Up and Adder" de Riva and how this dumb bitch almost died because of his own filing system?

[notebooks-and-laptops]

Why Fenris could Never Cameo in Dragon Age: The Veilguard

In the run up to Dragon age: The Veilguard, I was almost certain that Fenris would be our main legacy character from previous games. Not only has he been central in the comics released between DAI and DATV, he is an escaped Tevinter slave who's plot revolved around magisters, magic and the structural prejudices surrounding elves in Thedas. Not only that, but he's canonically in Tevinter killing slavers currently so he's geographically in the right place for us to meet him.

About halfway through the game though, it was clear to me: Fenris could never cameo in The Veilguard. Because he'd break it.

How the Veilguard treats Thedas is...odd to me, to say the least. I will be writing another post about how much I adored the expanded big lore in this game (the titans, ancient elves were spirits, where the blight came from etc.) and yet while these large lore expansions worked for me, the actual culture of modern Thedas is entirely softened, its sharp edges filed down until it's a sanitised fantasy world devoid of what made the franchise so vibrant and compelling in the first place.

So let's start with Fenris and slavery. In all three games, the reality of slavery is pushing at the corners of the world. In DAO Loghain allows Tevinter Magisters to enslave elves in order to raise money for his war effort. In DA2 Fenris is fighting to be free from slavers who will not leave him be, let alone the reminders that the city was built by slaves which are everywhere. In DAI one of the two possible mini-bosses is Calpurnia who was a slave, and characters such as Gatt and Dorian both show us how much slavery is tied into Tevinters culture and success.

But DATV the first game actually set in Tevinter where we get to see the famed Minrathous...it's like the game purposefully wants to avoid the issue. I can feel it tilting the camera away to not allow me to see. Slavery is mentioned, but never talked about in depth or as a specifically ELVEN problem in Tevinter. This might have been done to be less problematic, it feels ignored.

We are in DOCK TOWN. We are at the DOCKS. You would think that slaves from all over Thedas who are being smuggled and bought by various groups would be everywhere. You would think that the injustice in dock town would be partly built on the back of ships we've seen in the comics crammed with elves in chains. This is the world Dragon age set up for us. And yet...nothing. zilch. A tiny easily skippable side quest where we free a couple of venatori slaves, but only one of whom is an elf.

None of our Tevinter characters seem to have been influenced by their culture even a little bit when it comes to how they view elves; there is no moment when Neve fucks up and says something prejudiced, no moment when Bellara or Davrin are distrustful of her for being a Tevinter mage.

The same goes for Zevran; a character who epitomised the issues with the crows. The crows have consistently been characterised as very morally dubious assassins who kill for the highest bidder and who buy children on the slave market and torture them as they grow in order to assure that they reach maturity able to withstand torture without giving away a client's name. Zevran is very explicit about the fact that if you fail a contract your life is forefit.

Nobody responds particularly to you if you're an elf. Nobody trusts rook less for it in Tevinter. Nobody treats Rook any differently. Even DAI had better mechanics for this; with nobles in Orlais less likely to trust you as an elf.

Considering one of the main plot points of this game and what makes Solas sympathetic is the fact that he was fighting against the slavery of ancient elves...you'd think the game might want to mirror that in modern Thedas. It might want to show us how characters fighting to end slavery in Tevinter are similar to Solas and how the society Solas fought against was similar to the one that characters we love such as Fenris have fought against in modern Thedas. Maybe we'd want to explore how in a world of slavery like this, how could the answer NOT be to tear it all down? Maybe we should have that option at the end of the game so it really can chose whether we agree with Solas and his plans or not.

Adding Fenris to this game would entirely break the game because Fenris refuses to allow you to look away from this horror. He is a sympathetic character who had to learn to trust mages again because of course he didn't trust them. Of course he didn't. Fenris wouldn't allow the camera to shift focus because he's literally covered in the lyrium scars that show how slaves are used as experiments in Tevinter. Fenris WOULD question Neve on how she feels about elves and slaves. Fenris WOULD have things to say about Lucanis and the crows (let alone the fact Lucanis is an abomonation). So he could never be in this game; he'd drop a bomb on it's carefully constructed blinders to the very society its supposed to be set in.

And yet, in DATV, the crows are presented as...a found family of misfits and orphans? The politician who opposes the crows having absolute power in Antiva is framed as a comically evil idiot who doesn't understand that the crows are ontologically good. Yet...they're NOT. Crows in this game act more like a secret rebel group than an assassin organisation. We see no crow taking contracts with the VERY RICH venatori magisters despite being hired killers. We see crows just refuse to kill people despite having a contract because 'its crueler to leave them alive'. The crows don't feel like the crows here, they feel like a softened version of a cool assassin group who are cool because they wear black and purple.

Our pirate group are also sanitised; the Lords of Fortune are good pirates who only steal treasure that's not culturally significant. Theyve clearly read the modern critiques of the British Museum and have decided to explicitly stop anyone levelling similar critiques at them. There is no faction of the Lords of Fortune who aren't like this, no internal arguments about it. Everyone just. Agrees. And is able to accurately tell what a cultural artifact is vs. what treasure that you can have yourself is. Rather than showing us why a pirate stealing cultural artifacts might be bad (like in da2 where such a situation literally causes a coup and a war) it just tells us it's bad. But also pirates are cool so we still want them in our world.

This issue seaps into Thedas and drains it of any of the interesting complexity and ability to SAY anything that this franchise had before this game. It becomes a game about telling and not showing rather than the other way around. The games have ALWAYS asked questions about oppressive structural systems and their interplay with society, religion and culture and how these things can affect even the most well meaning character. Dragon age at its best IS a game about society and how society functions both for and against it's characters and what happens to societies built on cruelty and indifference. The best bad guys dragon age has given us are those who are bad because they embody these systems or have been shaped by them. Our main characters have had to wrestle with questions surrounding how to exist in these systems, fight against them, learn and grow.

Yet every group you come across in DATV is sanitised and cleaned up to the point of being as non problematic as humanly possible. None of our cast of characters have to wrestle with where they came from or the world that shaped them. None of them have to confront their own biases. They start the game perfectly non-problematic and end it that way too.

And this just...isn't what Dragon Age has been in the past. It isn't why I love the franchise. The whole game just felt, in a way, hollow. And this was a CHOICE and it is why the legacy characters are few and far between. Too many dragon age characters are just too...angry and complex for this game. You can feel them pulling their punches on this one. I have to imagine they did this because they didn't want to be criticised or have too much controversy? But I think it honestly goes far too much in the other direction and just makes it bland.

I can't imagine what I say here will be unique, but it is the basis for a LOT of my other thoughts on this game so I wanted to get it out of the way first. The softened Thedas and characters make this game by far the weakest in the franchise.

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard characters art pieces 1, by Volta Studio artists:

"TEAM Art Direction : Stephanie Bouchard - Artists : Marion Kivits Melanie Bourgeois Rael Lyra Stéphanie Bouchard Alexey Zaryuta Rodrigo Ramos"

Caption:

"Super excited to finally show the different assets we produced for Dragon Age: The Veilguard alongside BioWare and EA! - Our team worked closely with the project Art Director to concept props, full environment tilesets, costumes, armor, creatures, weapons, and 2.5D cinematics that you can now find in game. Collaborating closely with BioWare’s team, we helped ensure every detail stayed true to the Dragon Age universe. We also teamed up with our sister studio, KWM, to bring most of the 2.5D in-game cinematics to life. - Huge thanks to BioWare for their trust. This project was a true team effort, and means so much to us! A huge thanks to everyone on our team who was also part of this journey."

[source, via]

File names: image 1 - faction appearances Lords of Fortune treasure image 2 - Shadow Dragons subclass Evoker spirit image 3 - seasonal appearances spooky Hallowe'en Dalish image 4 - follower alt ancient elven Bellara image 5 - faction appearances Mourn Watch appearance tomb diver image 6 - faction appearances priceless set Warden image 7 - Grey Wardens subclass warriors soldier sketch image 8 - civilian appearances Crows image 9 - civilian appearances Shadow Dragon image 10 - civilian appearances color variations Tevinter image 11 - civilian appearances Anderfels civilians image 12 - Shadow Dragons subclass defiant force image 13 - Grey Wardens sacrifice warriors sacrifice image 14 - faction appearances soldier to heavy soldier Mourn Watch image 15 - faction appearances soldier to heavy soldier sketch image 16 - faction appearances Mourn Watch image 17 - faction appearances Mourn Watch rogue image 18 - faction appearances Mourn Watch mage image 19 - faction appearances Crows image 20 - faction appearances Crows desperado specialist image 21 - faction appearances Crows rogue scoundrel image 22 - faction appearances Crows rogue scoundrel sketch image 23 - faction appearances soldier to heavy soldier Fortune image 24 - faction appearances soldier to heavy soldier Shadow Dragons image 25 - faction appearances Crows image 26 - faction appearances priceless set Shadow Dragons image 27 - faction appearances Lords of Fortune fighter explorer image 28 - faction appearances Lords of Fortune appearance crab dive suit image 29 - faction appearances Mourn Watch tomb raider image 30 - faction appearances Mourn Watch appearance tomb diver anatomy armor

[merrinla]

Description of Lucanis from the game files

Character Description: Once the heir to the First Talon and the Antivan Crows' best mage killer, Lucanis now bears scars both physically and mentally from his time as a brainwashed executioner for an evil mage cult. No longer the pragmatic assassin always in control, he wrestles with becoming what he's spent his life hunting: a demon-possessed abomination. He longs to return to his former glory, but the monster inside him demands blood and vengeance. With his future hanging in the balance, Lucanis must decide whether to give into the demon or control it.

Speech Pattern: Smooth but with a dangerous edge. Scary when angry. Sexy when charming. Not delicate.

Accent: Hint of Italian, but not as strong as Zevran's. (He is from a coastal city in Antiva, which had an influx of Tevinter refugees from Seheron after the Qunari invaded 100 years or so ago. That's why he looks and sounds different from Zevran and Josephine.)

Race: Human

Appearance: Lean, sinewy, handsome, but haunted Antivan human man. Mid thirties.

[hezenkoss]

so. i was going through the veilguard game files and poking around at props and found this stack of books from tevinter. and uh. KALLUS/ZEB???

[evillesbianvillain]

The thing with Veilguard, is that a lot of people who didn't like the videogame put all the blame on EA becuase the development was rushed and messy and some idiot had the idea to make it a multiplayer MOBA game or whatever the fuck it was going on and that can excuse some of the stuff going on in Veilguard:

everybody calling you Rook, a nickname a dwarf youve known for a month gave you, instead of your surname, especially ridicolous if you are a Grey Warden, you know, a member of a paramilitary order, and your boss calls you that. How certain factions, especially the Lords of Fortune but also the Mourn Watchers and Veil Jumpers are underdeveloped (but according to John Epler they decided to make less sidequests to focus better on a few of them and they ended up just being fetch quests or "kill these guys" for the most). Why you can't directly talk to your companions and ask them questions but have to stalk them through the lighthouse and hope they reveal something of themselves to your other companions (again, John Epler said this was a purpose choice they made and its a stupid one but I want to break a spear and say that it was probably because they didn't have the time to code or write every direct dialogue with Rook but I don't really know how these things work). Not being able to visit Minrathous.

But so much of it is an issue that started in the writing and developer room.

You cannot roleplay in the role playing game. Scratch the "there are not serious consequences of your action" part, we can file that under rushed development if we want to be nice. But you can only play as a nice, well meaning, always slightly sarcastic heroic Rook and that was a deliberate choice. You're basically only playing as purple Hawke. I don't want to play as purple Hawke. For an instance, I chose - obviously - the Grey Warden backstory (which I hated, all the backstories are the same, heroic Rook winning against a foe but disobeying orders and being punished by the mean higher ups) and when you do the mirror scene I chose the dialogue option that said "I have been impulsive when I saved that village and could've made things worse", but then when I'm talking to the first Warden and he reprimends me I can ONLY defend my actions and not agree with him or apologize for them. I wanted to play as a stern warden, respectful of the order and its authority, but the game doesn't let me do that.

The whitewashing of the narrative. Every faction (except the Grey Wardens) is super duper nice, they are all freedom fighters with XXI century politics. All the leaders of every faction believe you at face values about Super Evil Elven Gods and are willing to give you their help to slay them (except the Grey Wardens). All the factions are stripped of any nuance or of the infamous Bioware's grey morality (except the Grey Wardens, as the game, at any step, wants to reming you how stupidly secretive, kinda cultist-y and fucked up they are and how that is not a Good Thing). Especially annoying with the Crows, the local assassin's group of Antiva that is renowned for buying desinfranchised kids and torture them to make them the perfect assassins, and the Lords of Fortune, who are now the anti Indiana Jones of Thedas (but still tomb jackasses).

The whitewashing, or purposeful ignoring, of social conflict in Thedas. This game is set up partly in Tevinter and specifically in a district of Minrathous, but we not once encounter the slavery that the Imperium is built on, or racism against elves and qunari. And don't tell me "there are no slaves because Dock Town is a poor district of Minrathous", that is not how empires built on slave labour work, especially considering that Tevinter has always been based on the Roman Empire. Who do you think loads and unloads the cargo ships that dock there? You think slaves are only kept in the house and occasionally used for blood magic rituals? Not to mention that the faction for Dock Town is the Shadow Dragons, whos main work is freeing slaves, but not once we do a quest that revolves around that. And it's funny that they abandoned the entire issue with the mages and the Chantry "because we are in North Thedas" when the Chantry is a egemonical religion in Thedas. Zevran tells us that templars in Antiva guard mages like "jealous husbands", the Circle of Mages of Rivain was destroyed because they accused women there or summoning demons and the Anderfells are known for having the most pious followers of the Chantry in Thedas. I understand not making the mage issue a focus like it has been for the past three games, but to just dropt it like that is ridicolous. They didn't even do anything with the Tevinter Chantry and the Black Divine, something, I think, everybody was curious about. Ah but don't worry! We have the main dalish companion apologize 3000 times because the elves are at fault for everything going on in the world.

The characters are all shallow. There are very little important NPCs in this game and you can't directly talk to any of them if not during specific cutscenes during the story. John Epler (it's always him or Weekes lmao) said they wanted to avoid meaningless cameos but then they threw in the game characters from other games like Morrigan, Dorian, Isabela, Maevaris who was actually not from a game, but a comic, so I would've liked to know more about her, and doesn't let you interact in any way with them. Varric, for the love of god, there is no way for someone who is playing Dragon Age for the first time to give a shit about this guy. Who are these people. What do they want. Who are the leaders of these factions. The companions as well. You cannot talk to them but have to hope they will say something about themselves during random party banters in the Lighthouse and then they will have crafted cutscenes for the stupidest shit like Lucanis making Harding drink coffee. You know how some people dislike Varric, Garrus and Liara because the games want you to like them? This is what it feels with all the companions, and the forced found family is so on the nose it becomes unbearing. The romances are underwhelming, or so I am told by everyone. Davrin, who is in my opinion the best character in this game, has most of his character and quest revolving around a fucking rat with wings and all the stuff about his relationship with the dalish or wardens comes up in random party banters, again, instead of him telling me directly about it. The only relationship between companions that I found slightly compelling is between Davrin and Lucanis because they are the ONLY characters with an actual conflict going on, every other conflict is resolved immediately either by Rook stepping up and going "stop fightiiiiing why are you fightiiiiiing" or by the constrast being actually a misunderstanding, hey isn't it nice how every one of our companions are super duper nice guys who can do no wrong (like Bellara and Taash). Do you miss Mordin Solus? I know I do.

Connected to the characters issue, why the hell is the approval/disapproval system even a thing? It's impossible to lose approval from characters in this game, while they'll approve literally you standing in their vicinity. I've never worked SO HARD to try and lose approval with my companions, and it's impossible. Just, throw it away at this point, you have already implemented another system (the bond one) and are trying to work on a mass effect model, so atp just do that.

The villains oh my fucking god. This ties with the whitewashing of every good faction I have to ally with, as all the villains are super evil "bullies" with nothing else going on behind them. Maybe the only villain with something different going on is Isseiya, but all the others are faceless, corrupted evil hordes to be mowed down with Super Duper Evil leaders that have nothing going on if not a desire for Power and Conquest? Do you remember when Gereon Alexius was a desperate father who would've done everything to save his son from the Blight? Do you remember when Calpernia was an ex slave with a dream of revitalizing the Imperium by uplifting the slaves as citizens? Do you remember Meredith and the Arishok? Do you remember Loghain?? And like every side or personal quest villain/antagonist, the Evanuris are ONLY driven by power and power and power and they are so evil because they want power more power still power.

The missing/ignored plot threads. They hinted at us for years about the upcoming Tevinter/Qunari war and that went nowhere. What about the mentioned crisis/internal war/split between the Grey Wardens? Nothing. Where are Fen'hare's agents? Apparently they left Solas' side because he was a meanie and we know that because of a reddit AMA. The awakened darkspawns? Darkspawns now are officially a mindless horde and [insert GRRM piece on orc genocide] so don't worry about it.

They want a new slate in case they ever get to work on another Dragon Age in the future, and that's so obvious from certain narrative choice they made in the game, all happening far far away from us and that we know throw some fucking letters the Inquisitor sends to us and the most glaring one is the complete destruction of Southern Thedas, especially Ferelden.

The combat is... polarizing for me. On one hand, it is a mildly enjoyable action combat, and when you get over the heartbreak of never being able to build a mage like in Origins and having some tactic going on, it is fine, it is flashy enough to be enjoyable at least. But the enemy variety is terrible, the bosses are reused to hell and back and on top of that they are for the most normal enemies that are given a boss health bar (if i think about it, im pretty sure there is only one unique boss ive met so far, the archdemon, and it's such a pathetic boss fight)

The art direction. While I love, and I mean LOVE, the character design for your companions and whenever I look at them I get mad because such good design... wasted for these characters and this game. I do not like the art direction. I hate how everything has been scifi-ed, the eluvians now have rgb lights and they look like twitch streamers PCs or prothean artifacts, Bellara's magical gloves are fucking nanomachines and she literally works her magic like a mechanic. Not to mention the architecture and the neon signs in Dock Town. Most of the armors are ugly as hell and I want to talk with whoever designed the Lords of Fortune armors.

This scifi-cation carries out in the soundtrack as well, with a subpar score from Hans Zimmer.

I understand that it's not possible to work around every single choice made in the past three games, but some stuff is too important to just, leave it alone. Northern Thedas is still in Thedas and it's politically connected to it. Who the Divine is should be important, if my warden has died should matter, if Morrigan had a child should matter. They don't even make her mention the hero of ferelden EVER, whenever people talk about her they say she was a witch of the wilds and then worked with the Inquisition. ISN'T THERE A BIG GAP IN YOUR RESUME, MORRIGAN? Shouldn't a Grey Warden Blackwall be at Weisshaupt/Hossberg? But then, even the choices they have you make at the start regarding your Inquisitor are red herrings, the only thing the game cares about is wether your Lavellan romances Solas or not.

This game thinks we're stupid. I am constantly explained, over and over again what is going on. I am playing this game. I just saw the scene that has been recapped by Varric and then recapped by a text and then recapped by the characters chilling around a table commenting the scene. Not to mention all the time Rook and the companions say "We need to be in our best mind place to win this fight, we need to focus on ourselves, we need to think about ourselves first and then we can focus on the Evil Elven Gods" which is a little less on the nose way to say "do our personal quests". Insanely PG13 game.

Therapy speak.

And I think I'm done, at least for now. I have a lot of other issues but most of them are nitpicky and it's just me being annoying.

[vigilskeep]

Do we have any canon information on Viago’s age? I tried looking it up but didn’t find anything really, and it’s bothering me. I want to figure out the age gap and stuff with my rook de riva….

we do not! but let me break down the numbers with which we can guess at one so you can all suffer with me through this

ok so apparently, based on, like, comics writers on message boards, we know the comic series where teia and viago make their first tiny appearance, in ventus, is set abt 9:44 dragon. in eight little talons, the tevinter nights short story we get most of our teia and viago knowledge from, they talk about the ventus job like it happened quite recently. it’s the most recent time they worked together, and they don’t act like it’s been that long apart. so let’s say for the sake of argument that we can put eight little talons at roughly 9:45 dragon. i think that basically checks out with the timeline on the antaam occupation (which in eight little talons is on the horizon but hasn’t begun)

what we do know about ages in eight little talons is that teia is 28. so in 9:45 viago is older than 28 and old enough to remark on her being “the youngest talon in history”, but young enough that a 28-year-old is into him with no remark from either of them on him being particularly older or any kind of a large age gap, which given how truly endlessly insecure he is here about whether she’s really into him or just playing around, i feel would come up if it existed. so in his 30s... somewhere? which would mean he was born between 9:06 and 9:15 dragon

dragon age: the veilguard takes place somewhere between 9:49 and 9:54 dragon. (i know.) the veilguard character creator says it’s eight years since the breach (9:49). patrick weekes on bluesky plus the date for thirty years ago featured in the online short story the flame eternal say it’s 9:52. and john epler in a bioware discord q&a says it’s ten years since trespasser (9:54).

so if you believe he’s 30 in eight little talons and that the game is set in 9:49 then he’s 34. but if you believe he’s like 38 in eight little talons and the game is set in 9:54, then he’s 47.

conclusion: ????????

i guess ignoring everything said or published prior to the game, trusting the game itself, and committing to 9:49 veilguard is the smart move though. so that cuts down our variables. if we accept the 9:49 date and that he was in his 30s in 9:45 then he’s... somewhere from 34-43 in veilguard

a further note is i believe the datamined files for veilguard say that teia is 28 and viago 32. this can’t be true because teia was 28 in eight little talons which, even if it wasn’t in 9:45, was definitely at least a couple of years ago. but you could take that as their canon age gap and make viago 32 in eight little talons and thus born in 9:13 dragon and 36 in veilguard? if you felt like it.

[pinkvbay]

Tevinter Files 1 T-Files 2

[selunesdreams]

Eating Crow - Chapter 21: Crow Killer

He turned, his hand instinctively gravitating towards her leg. Behind his eyes, the spirit of determination’s presence hummed with impatience, desperate to touch her as his fingertips brushed her thigh. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Rook. As whatever you want me to be.” She touched her thumb to the cut on his bottom lip before letting her hand fall away.  “Have you ever just done something you wanted? For your own sake?” Lucanis leaned back against the couch, toying with a loose thread on the frayed hem of her nightgown before raising his head to meet her gaze. “A couple of times,” he said with a coy smile, “In recent memory.”

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: Lucanis plays the role of damsel in distress.

Word count: 4.7k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! warnings: sexual content, blood/gore, graphic violence, death, angst, Dellamorte Drama™ notes: if you have not read Teia/Viago's story in Tevinter nights, there may be some missing context, and I highly recommend reading it if you can! If you need a summary, its in the AO3 summary. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

Read on AO3

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Citizens ambled through the busy Cantori Diamond, occasionally brushing against the shoulders of Rook’s coat as she weaved through the crowd on her way to Viago’s office. Scowls and shouting came from betting tables, while in the darker corners of the casino, men inconspicuously received handjobs or head. Behind her, a drunk was thrown out by the collar of his shirts.

What a lovely place to conduct business.  

Reaching the security staff in front of the stairs, she nodded with impatient acknowledgment. With a grunt, two men stepped aside and let her pass before resuming their post. 

Lucanis had disappeared after their talk in the kitchen, save for a brief interaction where Spite found her in the courtyard, feet dangling over the edge into oblivion. She hadn’t needed to recognize the familiar gait behind her. 

“Hello, Spite.”  “You. Have a prison. Like Lucanis.” He had said. “Shame. Loneliness. Resentment. Crows. Hurt you.” “They hurt Lucanis, too. ”  Spite went silent then, eyes shifting back and forth as he stared into the nothingness below, searching for a way to articulate his thoughts.  “He is afraid. Of losing. Rook.” “I belong to no one.” “Lucanis. is not. Prison!” Frustrated, the demon began to pace. It couldn’t be easy, Rook thought to herself, for a spirit to possess so much knowledge, but have such difficulty communicating through its host. Was he searching through Lucanis’ thoughts like one would a stack of files? Was every motive shared, or could there be secrets kept between the two?  “Lucanis let you in. To HIS prison . Now YOU let HIM in!”

After the outburst, she quickly excused herself from the encounter and went to bed, eager to think about anything else. To her relief, Spite had not followed. Three days had since passed, and when Bellara hadn’t noticed even one stray coffee mug during that time, Rook had a sinking feeling something was terribly wrong. 

“Fi!”

As Rook reached the top of the stairs, Teia jumped down from where she’d been sitting on Viago’s desk, pulling her friend into a tight embrace. Over her shoulder, Rook scanned the room, noticing to her dismay that Lucanis wasn’t present, but his cousin was. Legs crossed on a nearby couch, Illario cocked his head with interest as their eyes met. 

“When are you coming home?” Teia asked, pulling back and gripping Rook by the front of her coat. “You can’t just abandon me here with these two again!” 

“Eventually…” Rook glared at Illario until he shamefully redirected his attention to stare at the opposite wall. Carefully, she pried Teia off of her and glanced around the room. “Has Lucanis been by?”

“A contract came in two days ago requesting him specifically.” Viago said, flipping through a newspaper on his desk. “The money was too good to turn down, and he had the time. Apparently, you don’t keep him busy enough.”

“What kind of contract?” Rook asked warily, “Hopefully not one your new assistant is involved in?”

“You think I set him up?” Illario called from his seat, smiling and feigning disbelief as he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Enough.” Teia chastised, stepping between them and putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “Illario is being rehabilitated. Don’t provoke him.”

“I didn’t know you took in strays.” Rook said innocently, returning Illario’s scowl with a mocking smile. “Tell me about Lucanis’ contract.”

“I wasn’t privy to details,” Viago said irritably. “Enzo Cortez requested a meeting.” 

“If it’s so easy, why hasn’t Lucanis completed it yet?”

“Vi, after what happened at the summit with Emil, you don’t think a request for an audience with the First Talon is a reason for concern?” Teia asked. 

Her cousin paused, placing a finger on the news page to hold his place. 

“Enzo doesn’t share his grandfather’s ambitions, and he’s half the assassin Lucanis is. Unless you think his passenger could cause issues.”

“It’s not Spite I worry about,” Rook said, glancing at Illario. “Does the Cortez family ever dabble in blood magic?”

He examined the tip of his glove disinterestedly. “They prefer being mixed up in Antaam business.”

“You failed to mention that.” Viago growled, shaking his head and taking his cloak from where it was draped over a nearby chair. “Forget professionalism. I’d like to check in on this contract .” 

“Wait up.” Teia said, grabbing her knives from the desk. 

“You coming?” Rook asked Illario.

“Is that an invitation?”

“It’s an order.” Viago said, thumping the back of his skull and falling in step beside Teia. 

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“For someone who claims to have cut ties with the lowlives of this city, you knew exactly where to go,” Rook muttered as Illario led them through Treviso’s warehouse district.

“It’s in the contract, Fiammetta. Unless you’ve forgotten how to read. Is that why you had to change your name to Rook? Fewer letters?”

“Enough. Both of you.” Viago shoved between them and cracked open a metal door. It creaked loudly before falling off the hinges onto the stone floor, sending a resounding slam throughout the rest of the warehouse.

“Announcing your arrival? I like your style.” Teia said, stepping over the rubble and checking the perimeter of the room.

“It’s too quiet here.” The Fifth Talon unsheathed his daggers. “This was supposed to be an easy job.”

As they rounded a corner, they were greeted by several bodies. Rook nudged one with her foot, noting that despite being in full rigor, the corpse hadn’t been cold for more than a day. So, Lucanis had passed through here…but where had he gone after? 

“Over here.” Illario hissed, peeking through a crack in another door. Rook joined him, stepping out onto another rooftop and watching her breath in the cold night air as she surveyed the horizon. She followed Illario’s outstretched finger to a beam connecting two unstable platforms and suppressed a groan of annoyance. Lucanis was never one to take the conventional way in. Which was what made it even more surprising he could be caught at all. Why was this the job he fell short on? 

One by one, the four Crows held out their arms for balance and crossed the beam, hopping off and descending a trellis to the streets below. A large manor towered over them, illuminated from within. 

“This was Emil’s former residence.” Viago noted, dragging a gloved finger over the house number. “Perhaps the warehouses were used by the Antaam.”

“Let’s not bother knocking.” Rook said, pressing her ear to the door and ensuring there was no one on the other side before picking the lock. With a soft click, the knob shifted, and she turned it and slipped inside. 

The Cortez villa held the same strange eloquence that its members carried in their personalities, beneath its state of decline. Lit candles lined the halls, where hand-painted wallpaper peeled where it met the water-stained ceiling. The wooden floors were scuffed and cracked, and the house smelled as if its condition had been deteriorating for some time. 

Silently, Viago motioned for them to follow down a vacant corridor to the right. Daggers drawn, he descended a set of stairs that creaked softly underfoot, no matter how expertly each of the Crows stepped. A damp, sour smell permeated the air and when Rook pulled her hand from the railing, she noticed a smudge of something green and moldy on her gloves. With a grimace, she wiped it on Illario’s jacket, earning herself a dirty look.

Water dripped from the support beams above their heads into puddles strewn across the floor, causing the foundation of the home to rot. Rainwater and canal overflow had been seeping through so long she wasn’t sure how the house was still standing at all. 

Suddenly, Viago stopped in his tracks, staring at something against the wall.  

A support beam on the ceiling had given way at some point, collapsing in a corner. Wrists chained to it, Lucanis’ unconscious form was prone on the floor. As Rook tried to dart forward, Viago caught her by the arm and shook his head.

“It could be a trap.”

“Then you deal with it.” Rook said, tearing herself from her cousin’s grasp and rushing to Lucanis’ side. 

On her knees beside him, she pressed her ear to his chest, feeling its ragged rise and fall and the crackling sound accompanying his every breath. Rook cupped his face in her hands and examined his injuries. He had a black eye and a gash along his cheek that she reached for apprehensively. Lucanis roused at her touch, his eyelids fluttering open, widening in recognition. 

“You…shouldn’t be here.” He rasped. 

“I thought you were untouchable.” She said, blinking back tears as she ran a thumb over his bloodied bottom lip. Her hands moved over his torso where his shirt was splayed open, revealing a bruised and lacerated chest in the dim light.

“Got sloppy.” He said, as he winced, staring over her shoulder at the stairs to where the others stood. “Enzo Cortez’s men are upstairs. And Antaam.” 

Rook looked back at Teia and Viago, who nodded and retreated to the second floor, dragging Illario along with them. 

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Rook said, propping him up and fumbling with the chains binding his wrists. His chin dipped as he lost consciousness, Spite surfacing under a veil of violet. Slowly, the demon lifted his head, his presence visible in Lucanis’ irises as he assessed her impatiently. 

“Body. Too weak to FIGHT .” 

The demon sounded like a caged animal. It only made sense, after all. A powerful spirit was only physically as strong as its host, and Lucanis had suffered far too many blows and lost too much blood to even stand on his own.

“I don’t need him to fight.” Rook said, her voice cracking as she carefully melted a rusting link in the chain with her fingertips. “I need him to live.”

Upstairs, she heard scuffling against the floorboards and cries of surprise that turned to silence just before a fight broke out. The link finally snapped, hot metal singing her index finger before she flinched and threw the chains across the room. They scratched against the baseboards as she cursed and squeezed her fist tightly. She pulled Lucanis’ arm around her shoulders and struggled to her feet, staggering under his weight until she was able to brace him against the doorframe, smoothing his hair from his face. His skin was clammy underneath her palm.  

“You’re supposed to run away from danger.” He turned to spit blood onto the floor. “Not towards it.”

“I thought you knew me better than that.”

He huffed weakly, barely mustering the energy to open his good eye to look at her. ”You’re right. You never do what you’re told.” He tried to push her away, but failed, letting out a sharp breath and clutching at his broken ribs. “Most Crows die from mistakes like this.”

“Not you. Not today.” She said, maneuvering him towards the stairs. “We still have a contract.”

“Is that…all…we have?” he asked, his words punctuated by gasps of pain.

“Lucanis…” she warned, leaning on the wall with his weight against her while she caught her breath. “Don’t do this here.” 

He winced again, bracing a hand on the eroding bricks as he reached for her face with a bloodied palm. 

“I’m…sorry.” He pulled back as he examined his filthy hands. “I should have told you…about Caterina…”

The sound of perfectly cobbled boots echoed down the steps and their heads snapped towards Illario, smirking down at them as he leaned against the railing. 

“Cousin, you’re still making Fi do all the work? Is this how you plan to lead as First Talon?”

Lucanis groaned, his body trembling with the effort to remain upright. “What is he doing here?”

“Helping, believe it or not.” Rook murmured. 

“You used to be strong, cousin. Look at you now. Relying on Fiamma to carry you out of here like a damsel in distress.” Illario crossed the room and wrapped his cousin’s arm around his shoulders. Lucanis tried to resist, but Illario delivered a sharp jab of his elbow to his ribs and he coughed, relenting. 

“I’ll take him to the Villa and call for a healer.” Illario said, eyes sweeping over Rook’s body. “Meet you there.”

“You expect me to trust you? ” 

“Looks like you’re lacking alternatives.” Illario’s smirk faded as Spite’s presence flickered in and out of Lucanis’ expression, displeased by his rescuer. With an irritated sigh, he waved one hand towards the chairs. “Go, I’m not stupid enough to choose the losing side twice.”

Rook clenched her jaw. “If he doesn’t survive this, I’ll ensure Caterina doesn’t have a single heir.” 

Illario smirked. “Careful, Fiammetta. Don’t reveal all your cards just yet.” 

Rook gave him one last stern look before tearing her gaze away and venturing deeper into the house in search of Viago and Teia. It wasn’t difficult to follow the trail of blood.

When she reached the two of them, Emil Cortez’s eldest grandson sat calmly in a chair behind his desk as Viago leaned over it with a menacing snarl. 

“Your House’s reputation was already in the dirt, you just ensured it would be buried.” Viago said through gritted teeth. Teia stood behind him, arms folded as her eyes flicked towards Rook with concern when she passed through the door. 

“I care neither for House nor reputation.” House Cortez’s heir countered, “Only justice.”

“This is your idea of justice? Luring, imprisoning, and torturing your First Talon?” Viago spat. “You and your grandfather were fools for even looking in the Antaam’s direction.”

“How are you enjoying your gift from the summit?” Enzo nodded towards Viago’s sleeve, where his grandfather’s Death Adder had infamously bitten him a few summers ago. 

“Cousin, accompany Illario while he takes Lucanis back to the villa.” Rook said suddenly, a warning in her voice as her eyes lingered on House Cortez’s heir. “I will handle this.”

“This is Crow business.” Viago snapped, “You do not outrank me, and you’re in no position to give orders.”

“Vi. Let her.” Teia said, reaching for his bicep. “If you’re the one to end an entire House line, you’ll be accused of conspiracy by the other Talons.”

He flinched, but removed his hands from the desk, rocking back on his heels. Viago was almost as wary of politics as he was of poison.

“So I should let my kin do it instead? How would anyone even know if it was me?” 

“Fi is already acting outside of Crow custom. It’s revenge, or insurance, for Lucanis, whatever way you want to see it. She gains nothing, politically. As Talons, however, you and I could be accused of setting up a coup.”

The two exchanged a long look before he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

“Formalities.” he said, glaring at Rook from the corner of his eye as he left the room, the heels of his bloodied dress shoes clicking against the hardwood. “Do what you must.”

“You made a grave error tonight, Cortez.” Rook said, pulling her sword from her belt and letting the golden hilt catch in the light. Crow Killer, perhaps that would be a fitting name for it. She’d have to write the title down before Viago used it to name one of his poisons. 

“I do not fear death.” Enzo said, sitting up straighter and crossing his legs. She watched him, anticipating a sudden movement or trap, but there was an air of acceptance around him, rather than smugness. 

“Will you humor me then?”

“Sure. I always liked your father, Little Flame. He knew how to work outside the constraints of politics to get things done.” 

She ignored what he surely meant as a compliment and traced the blade of her sword with one finger.

“Just two questions. Why? And how?”

“To carry out my grandfather’s legacy, of course.” 

“And what legacy is that?”

Cortez snorted. “Amongst the Antaam, you will find a man named the Butcher. I think he would like you. And I think you would find his love for Treviso transcends any Crows’.”

“No Antaam gets to claim love for my city.”

“A small-minded approach, but I can’t fault you for it.” Cortez replied. “Tell Lucanis I send my regards, and that this was nothing personal. My grandfather always adored Caterina. If they would have just let Illario become heir, this could have all been so much simpler.” 

Rook exchanged a glance with Teia. 

“As for how…” Enzo continued, “The Demon of Vyrantium is notoriously good at what he does. But now he has weaknesses.” 

“Spite.” Rook said instinctively. 

Enzo shook his head and grinned. 

“No, no. The spirit is an asset . But you … ” his voice suddenly took on a note of saccharine sweetness. “All I had to do was mention your name . He hesitated - just for one second - and that was all I needed to incapacitate him. No blood magic, no traps. Just… you .”

Rook froze, unable to keep her expression from falling. 

“Every House witnessed it at that shit show of a meeting that Illario called. Love is weakness, my dear. A man with a target on his back knows it better than anyone.” 

In one swift movement, Rook slid her sword into Enzo’s throat, holding it there as he sputtered and smiled, blood staining his teeth as his face slackened and paled. She tore the blade out of his neck, half decapitating him and sending long streaks of blood in every direction. Maroon splattered against the walls and painted her face. 

“A waste of such a nice jacket,” Teia lamented, rubbing her sleeve between her thumb and forefinger where blood splatter had reached it. Rook swept the back of her hand over her face, and it came back wet and dripping in what remained of the Cortez line. Her kills were always messier when she was angry. 

“You get it all out of your system?” Teia asked. 

“Yeah.” Rook said, wiping both sides of her blade on Enzo’s jacket and sheathing it at her waist. 

“Let’s get out of here.” 

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Lucanis lost consciousness somewhere around Heart and Central, and woke, to his surprise, in his room at Caterina’s villa. With a grunt, he pushed himself into a seated position, staring down at his chest. Without his shirt, he could see the faint scars left behind where someone had magically repaired a gash in his abdomen. His ribs no longer felt like shattered glass, and he suspected that if he checked his reflection, he’d find only traces of the black eye he’d sustained from where his Antaam captors had struck him in the face with the chains they used to bind him.

Torture was nothing new, but Lucanis hadn’t expected to survive his injuries. The Venatori kept him captive because he was useful to them alive. To House Cortez, his death would have been a strategic, political gold mine.

“They. Threatened. ROOK!” Spite said, referencing Enzo’s casual comment that the Antaam were looking for her. It had been enough to distract Lucanis, for his insides to clench with terror and his body to instinctively freeze. It nearly cost him his life.

Lucanis shuddered and ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the last remnants of his disorientation, before crawling out of bed. In the bathroom, he scrubbed a layer of dirt and blood from his skin, carefully working a brush under his fingernails as well, before he dressed in a pair of clean trousers and a button-down shirt. Shrugging on his cloak, he retrieved his weapons from the nightstand, strapped them to his belt, and ventured downstairs.

In the den, he found his cousin staring with a bored expression at the fire, one leg casually crossed over the other, left cheek resting on his fist. He didn’t acknowledge Lucanis when he entered the room, but from the way his body tensed, it was clear he’d sensed his arrival.

“Caterina’s letting you back inside her house already?” 

“She couldn’t just turn me away. I had her favorite grandson in tow.” 

Lucanis took a seat in the chair across from him, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward.

“Where is she?”

“Caterina? In the kitchen with Viago and Teia.” Illario stood up and crossed the room, clasping his hands behind his back as he stared through the window at the moonlit gardens outside. He spared a glance over his shoulder and grinned. “But you’re not asking about our grandmother, are you?” 

Lucanis’s answer came in the form of a withering glare.

Illario shrugged and returned his attention to the window. “She stormed in about an hour ago announcing she’d ended the entire Cortez line with one slip of her blade and gave Caterina a look I’m surprised didn’t earn her a throat slitting on sight. After she checked your condition, she left without another word.”

Lucanis braced his hands on his chair arms, but Illario was faster, shoving him back into the cushions before he could leave. Invisible bruises on his chest ached in protest as he coughed, glaring at his cousin. 

“Don’t leave just yet. We haven’t had a chance to catch up. Why don’t you tell me how I couldn’t best you, but Emil Cortez’s idiot grandson could?”

“Still plotting your revenge?” 

“I’m past that.” Illario said, releasing his hold on his cousin and adjusting his sleeves. “Time away from bad influences has really made me rethink my choices.”

The sound of Caterina’s cane thumping against the floor cut their verbal jabs short, and Lucanis slumped in his chair as Illario stepped away.

“An embarrassment to our House.” Caterina pounded her cane against the floor for emphasis. “This is the reputation you want as First Talon? That you can be captured and held hostage-“

Lucanis held up a hand to cut her off.

“If I recall, someone in this room held you hostage for weeks, and none of the Crows batted an eye about your reputation.”

Caterina’s mouth fell open, and she raised her cane menacingly. “Ungrateful-”

“Don’t fall for the act, Lucanis.” Teia said, appearing in the doorway with Viago. “She was beside herself with worry before the healer got here.”

Lucanis stood and gestured down at himself. 

“Well, I’m healed. So I’ll be on my way.” He said, walking towards the door. 

“We are not done here!”

“I think we are.” Lucanis said, passing his grandmother without so much as a second glance. 

“That demon inside of you makes you reckless! Your actions are not befitting of a First Talon!”

“Feel free to take it back,” Lucanis said casually, pulling the front door open. “But I thought you liked when they called me a demon.”

The door slammed shut behind him, and Lucanis closed his eyes as the cool night air hit his face, feeling Spite’s presence flare up in excitement at the prospect of finally being able to leave the cramped villa.

He made it about one city block before Viago’s voice carried through the open air, calling out his name. Lucanis turned into an alley and waited for his fellow Talon to catch up.

“If you give up your seat, who is going to pardon Fiammetta for killing a Talon?”

Lucanis scrubbed a hand over his face. “It was a personal matter. Caterina wouldn’t pursue it.”

Viago stepped closer, pressing a finger into the center of Lucanis’ chest.

“I’m not willing to put my cousin’s life in your grandmother’s hands. And if you… care for her, you wouldn’t be either.” He snarled. “Fiammetta can defend herself against a rogue assassin or two. But if someone pointed every Crow in her direction? You, me, Teia - we couldn’t possibly stop them all. Hold your seat. At least until we know what the future holds for the Crows.” 

Lucanis narrowed his eyes, gaze dropping to Viago’s finger. When he raised his head, his voice was low and measured.

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m giving you advice.” Viago lifted his hands in the air and took a step back before adjusting his gloves. “The second you put Fiammetta’s life in danger, I won’t waste my time with threats. I’ll take action.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Footsteps in the meditation room woke Rook from her sleep on the couch, and her dagger slipped from her fingertips where her hand had been hanging over the side. Disoriented, she jolted forward, leaning over and scrambling for it as it clanged against the floor.  

In the darkness, Lucanis moved slowly, with his hands up in a placating manner. 

“Just me.” He said, eyes drifting from her blade to her face.

Rook blinked away her disorientation and set the knife down, resting a palm on her forehead and catching her breath. For a moment, Lucanis stood above her, hesitating, before he joined her on the sofa, angling himself so he wasn’t directly facing her.

“You were drug into my mess again.”

“I sought it out this time, actually.” 

A beat of silence passed between them before Lucanis spoke again. 

“Rook. I owe you. For my life, my freedom. Again.”

He reached out to touch her, but redirected the movement and rested his palms on the couch cushions, staring at the floor.

“You deserved better. Still deserve better. From the Crows, from me. Things will change, or I will leave Treviso with you. I give you my word.”

Rook folded her legs underneath her and leaned forward as she blinked in disbelief, wondering if this was a dream.

“Hold on-”

He turned, his hand instinctively gravitating towards her leg. Behind his eyes, the spirit of determination’s presence hummed with impatience, desperate to touch her as his fingertips brushed her thigh.

“I’ll follow you anywhere, Rook. As whatever you want me to be.”

She touched her thumb to the cut on his bottom lip before letting her hand fall away. 

“Have you ever just done something you wanted? For your own sake?”

Lucanis leaned back against the couch, toying with a loose thread on the frayed hem of her nightgown before raising his head to meet her gaze.

“A couple of times,” he said with a coy smile, “In recent memory.”

She watched him for a long moment before shifting her position, crawling over him and straddling his hips. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she leaned forward and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Lucanis stiffened in surprise before letting his hands drift to her waist, fingertips lightly trailing across the silk back of her nightgown and digging into the fabric as he buried his face in her hair. He let out a slow, warm stream of air through his nose and lingered there, cherishing the moment. 

“I don’t want First Talon. I never have. But I want you. To be by your side. I am in your debt.”

Rook nuzzled the place between his neck and shoulder, shaking her head. “There’s no debt-“ she protested, her words muffled against his jacket.

Lucanis lifted a hand, wrapping a dark lock of her hair around his fingers and toying with it.

“You’re going to argue with me now that you got what you wanted?“ he chuckled, tilting his head to the side to give her better access. “Just give me time to figure out how to tell Caterina, mm?” 

“You want to follow me all over Thedas?” She asked, nipping at him gently. The stubble on his neck was rough against her lips, his facial hair soft where it rested just above her cheek. “And here I thought we were just good friends.”

“Mmm.” Lucanis responded, his hands slipping lower to tug her forward so that her hips were pressed flush against his. “I’m not sure friends is going to cut it, mia amata. ”

Rook bent down to kiss him, feeling him suppress a flinch as her mouth grazed a cut in his lower lip. She pulled away and brushed a thumb along his cheekbone instead.

“Sleep here?”

Lucanis raised his brows, his gaze drifting down and lingering on the swell of her breasts in her nightgown. “With you? Like this?”

“Did you have something else in mind?”

His eyes followed the curves and planes of her body, the silk of her nightgown sliding softly under his touch. Hands on her thighs, he inched the fabric of her gown higher.

“A very prolonged gesture of appreciation.”

[the-stray-liger]

Anyway! Onto Imperium Afternoons

Finished Asunder and I have complicated feelings towards Wynne but I mourn her nonetheless because she was a mother figure to my Warden

[karinamay]

Thursday Bangers June 5

Thank you for the tag @himluv! I haven't had much time at all to write this week so I'm feeling a bit unfocussed but this was a really fun short thing to ground myself back into it again :)

Baby I'm so into you Darling, if you only knew All the things that flow through my mind - Fantasy Mariah Carey Prompt/game by @woundedsoul12

Problems For Later

She's so beautiful, Viago thinks.

A stupid thought, he thinks immediately after it. 

Of course she is beautiful. He knew that before meeting her - everyone knows that. Teia Cantori’s beauty is more fact than opinion.

Yet it isn’t her striking looks that keep catching Viago’s attention across the rooftop they’ve been hiding on the past few hours, or, if he’s really honest, every waking hour the past few days since they have been on this shared contract. It’s something quieter, running just below that. An iron determination, a drive to prove her worth that flutters just beneath her skin. Even more captivating than her physical beauty. Even more lethal, too, if he were to hazard a guess. 

“Eyes on the street, de Riva,” Teia suddenly says, a smile pulling at the corner of her lip. She hasn’t moved, hasn’t even glanced in his direction. 

Viago quickly redirects his attention to the narrow street below. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

“In the last three hours we have been sitting here, you have called out every irregularity that happened below,” Teia muses, “and yet you said nothing just now when our new friend disappeared behind that door for almost a minute before coming back out.” 

Viago feels the blood rush to his cheeks. He folds his gloved hand around the edge of the roof a little tighter, squeezes in an effort to regain his focus. It’s supposed to be what he’s good at. He doesn’t get distracted. He does his job and he does it well, no matter the surrounding circumstances. And yet - 

“ - so, you tell me: why wouldn’t your eyes be on the street, Vi?” 

A sudden heat crashes through Viago like a tidal wave. Vi. A nickname, warm and familiar, as if they haven’t just met for the first time a week ago. Flirtatious in a way that doesn’t usually get to him, but now it fills his mind with a rush of thoughts. Questions flowing through his mind like water, seeping through the cracks in his defenses. 

What does she taste like? 

Viago pushes the thought away with some effort. A problem for later, if ever. 

“Perhaps I was looking at something else equally important,” he says. 

“Equally important?” Teia asks. “I’m flattered.”

He can hear her smile through her words and he fights off the urge to look at her again. He considers making something up that could have grabbed his attention besides her, but he gets the feeling she won’t buy it. 

“You know -” 

“Buyer,” Viago cuts through her words as his eyes focus on a new individual entering the scene below. Tevinter robes, but simple, nothing too ornate. Not their magister. “Looks like a proxi, we should -” 

Before he can finish his thought, he hears the soft squeak of leather beside him and he looks back in Teia’s direction just in time to see her jump over the edge of the roof. Viago sighs, adds ‘impulsive’ to the growing list of words describing her in his head, and jumps off the roof as well. As he rushes after her into the fray, he worries for a moment that this won’t be the last time he’ll throw himself into danger for Teia Cantori. Then he pushes the thought away. That can be filed under ‘problems for later’, too.

[sirnotsircos]

Monroe "Money" De Riva

dunno what is it but the Crow background in Dragon Age: Veilguard has got me obsessed with creating fandom content again so here's a little (too long) backstory for my sweet prince Money and how they meet Viago.

It's worth noting that Money uses They/Them pronouns however only discovered this in their later teens, for the purposes of gender exploration and a reasonable amount of self insert-ness going on here, Money is referred to with the pronouns assigned at birth in this first installment of self indulgent writing.

4.3 K words

Canon typical death and gore

themes of abductuion and trafficking discussed

Crows and Coin

All along the borders of the Tevinter Imperium, the bright dancing lights of the circus filled the dark nights of war time. For years a traveling band of performers moved from city to city, town to town, collecting cheers and coin, bringing smiles and laughter and whisking away worry. During the winters they would lug a big tent around, park near a town for weeks at a time and bid visitors welcome, and during the summer just a stage and clearing would do.

In the front wagons was the coin, the acrobats, the stage manager, in the middle wagons the provisions, the chests of contriband, stowaways, and in the rear the set, and the crew. Money, no older than six when she’d wandered into the tent during the circus’ brief stint in the Free Marshes, was never allowed anywhere near the middle wagons. They were always filled with crates, the extra plain looking ones with long sealed lids and too much hay, then there were the people she couldn’t talk to. Sometimes they were dressed in dark boring outfits that stood out only on account of the fact they were travleing with a circus, and other times they were garish and spoke loud with sing songy accents.

Either way, Money was to stay away.

 Baron made sure all the kids’ stayed away in fact. There was “real honest work to be done” and work Money did. When Baron had first found Money she’d had no name and matted eggplant hair that needed shaving, there was a generally irritated grunt that meant her and that’s all she knew. She’d only been named Money after he found she had a pension for finding it and stowing it in her pockets or shoes and anywhere no one could find easily. A joke, Money would later learn to appreciate the morbidity of. 

“Gon’ call you Money, you’ll never be without it,” Baron chuckled to himself, “but ye’ got to give me mine back.” 

Baron was a big man, his real name wasn’t Baron, no one used their real name in the circus. He was a qunari with a wild mane of white-grey hair and horns he kept cleaved at the root and filed down. He wore hats at all times, the only time Money could remember seeing Baron without one was when it fell off in his sleep, if he slept at all. He had ashen skin but he bathed in red mud and kept covered so that he passed as an unusually large human. He was loud, his laugh louder, and his anger loudest.

It was Baron who’d petitioned for Money to stay, he’d been the keeper of most of the kids who resided with the circus infact. It had also been Baron who started Money on her words and letters, and Kelon, the eldest boy, on her numbers. It was Hymn, the second oldest who taught her to look sweet so she’d get in less trouble and Huin the second youngest who showed Money where Baron kept his best sweets. Although Money’s hands grew calouses in the six years she lived with the circus, she stayed for family and the coin was a happy coincidence. 

At twelve Money was broad shouldered and kept her hair shaved to a shadow, it was a habit now and people stared less than the few times she’d let her curls grow out. Baron had always preached that the first rule of working for a circus is that you work for the circus, you are not the circus. Keep it simple. Money had no intention of performing or entertaining, she liked hanging out in the rafters and hauling the sand bags best. And so when she was too lazy to lather and shave her head she rubbed inked mud across her hair and wore hats like Baron. Keep it simple. 

The first really cold night of the year, the circus crossed over into Antiva for the first time. Aslo, the ringmaster said it was warmer and he could delay the hassle of the big tent for longer but Money knew it had something to do with their guests. Since they’d joined the caravan at the outskirts of Minrathous they’d been making a pretty direct haul towards Antiva with less stops and shows than were typical for this area. Money knew better than to ask any questions, and in all honesty she wanted to see the Antivan Coast enough that she was glad for the pace with which they were moving. 

As soon as they crossed the border Baron grew grim and tense and all together displeased. He led the caravan onto lesser traveled bumpy roads, the kind that made Money’s legs feel like jello when they’d finally stop for a rest. Four days into Antiva, they made camp no more than a kilomete outside of a town, the first place they’d set up a show since arriving in the country. It was warm enough for no tent as Aslo had guaranteed but the show was trimmed down so when it would get to it’s coldest everything would be packed away. This was also the first night their guests left their carriage since joining, they stretched their legs during dinner but kept to themselves.

Kelon said the woman looked like her name was Frivolousia with her long gown and incredibly intricate braids, and the man looked like a Craig with his poor form and rounded shoulders. 

“I dont know,” Hymn, with her long golden hair and sprite-like features, stared after Frivolousia and her long red gown, “there’s nothing wrong with dressing for your station.”

“Hm?” Money looked over her shoulder and stared intently, that woman looked like a bloody blotch to her. 

“You don’t ever think about wearing gowns like that?’ Hymn asked whistfully.

Money shrugged.

“If you had all the money in the world to buy whatever you wanted, what would you wear,” Hymn posed the question to all of them.

“First Warden Vestiges!” Huin puffed his chest out.

Kelon rolled his eyes, muttering something about clothes being the last on his list of things to buy if he had that kind of money.

Hymn turned to Money expectantly.

“Um-” Money chewed her cheek, “a cape?”

The books Baron would read to her always had people in capes on the front. “What's that fuzzy stuff called again?”

“Velvet?” Kelon raised his brow.

Money shrugged again.

For Money, shrugging either meant yes, no, maybe or sometimes possibly, I dont know. Money didn’t talk much. Luckily for her, the regular crew learned to understand what she meant most of the time.

“Okay so a velvet cape, a blighted tin can,” Hymn pointed to Money and Huin respectively, then to Kelon “and naked?”

Kelon huffed and began to defend himself, Huin spraying a mouthful of potatoes across the table. Hymn was equal parts proud of herself and vexed by the onslaught of starchy spray. It was a night like any other show night, they ate early and all together, the kids got shushed half-heartedly a handful of times despite the rest of the company being equally as raucous.  

As night fell and the camp settled Baron took up his normal post of insomniac. He fed the caged animals extra rations he knew Aslo wouldn’t appreciate, checked the wagons, the tent stakes and the horses. All was just as it should be, as it always was. Except for a door, a carriage door. It was a middle carriage. The door hung open, not ten minutes ago when he’d passed it the first time, it was closed. He peered inside from ten feet away, darkness swallowed the interior. The only thing Baron could make out was the distinct gleam of thick liquid running in a thin trail off the step.

Money awoke with a start, the wind rattling the canvas wall of the tent next to her. She was a light sleeper, always had been. Once awake it was nearly impossible for her to fall asleep, especially with Kelon’s snoring. He sounded like a bear, gruff deep gargling snores swelled in his chest with every long breath. Money hugged her blanket close and stepped down into her boots, keeping the laces loose so she could slip them back off once she got to her destination.

There was one place she could always go when she needed to sleep, Baron’s wagon. 

It wasn’t until she was nearly halfway to where Baron had parked his wagon that morning that Money felt the heavy silence that lay over the camp. There was no light, no stray lanterns or dimly glowing tents, not even the cats that somehow followed the caravan wherever they went were wandering about. The stillness felt oppressive. Money almost wanted to freeze in place feeling as though the silence was watching her, judging her for moving. The thought of being outside in the open any longer than she had to be overruled that instinct. 

She scurried along, staying close to the sides of the tents and wagons. When Money reached Baron’s wagon she found the flap wasn’t tied down and someone had been rummaging around. Baron wasn’t a particularly organized man but he had piles and his piles had a method to them. These piles did not. Money noticed the chest he usually kept as the foundation for his stacks of books was open, the inside cleaned out. 

A hand came down right infront of Money’s eyes and clapped down over her mouth, another wrapped around her shoulders tight. She howled. Money didn’t have a flight instinct, she’d never had that luxury before so she never took it now. Her hands were up and clawing in an instant, flesh raked off under her nails.

“Fu- Maker!” was Aslo’s hiss of pain.

In one sweep Aslo spun around, letting go of Money as he went. She sailed through the air for what felt like much farther than the six or so feet she did. She hit the ground hard, grass shredding beneath her as she skidded to a halt. In a second she was scrambling to her feet, Aslo was already launching his foot into her. Aslo was slow and not entirely prepared for most sorts of fights, however he was neary six and a half feet tall and his foot was heavy enough to throw Money back into the ground. 

Then came the fire. 

The sky was dark and starless, though any other stargazer that night in western Antiva would have had a clear view. Dark smoke had filled the air, billowing off the benches set around the perimeter of the stage. As Aslo’s foot made contact with Money’s chest the flames that had been eating away at the wood of the benches finally hit the black powder barrells used in the show’s pyrotechnics. Flame and combustion filled the air, wood splintered everywhere. Aslo stumbled back and winced away, his long gaunt face darting back and forth between the explosion and Baron’s wagon. 

Money wheezed in a breath, the hit left her chest feeling empty and aching. The air was hot now, the cool crisp air of the evening gone with the flames. She pushed herself backward as Aslo looked away and rolled herself under the trailer next to Baron’s wagon.  She came out the other side and scrambled to her feet, not wasting a moment’s breath looking backwards, she bolted. She ran away from Aslo, and away from the fire which lead her back towards her tent. As she ran, tent flaps were thrown open, people scrambling out. 

Those who’d traveled with the circus for as long as Money remembered scrambled for water buckets with bare feet and sleep quaffed hair. Those who Money didn’t know, the new hired hands from Minrathous carried drawn blades and already laced boots. Baron always had laced boots. Shouting filled the camp, and soon followed the clear ringing of blades on blades. Money’s veins froze in her skin when she realized what she was hearing. 

Everything was moving fast, too fast. The flames were roaring now, the sky swirling and everyone who rushed past Money was nothing but shadows.

A great big hand found her shoulder, and at first her breath caught in her chest and her fists balled. She pulled away hard and as she raised her fist she looked up into two familiar glassy grey eyes. Baron. 

“Money,” he was panting, thick dark blood covering his front, “what are you doing out here?”

“You’re bleeding-” There was a lot of blood.

“I’m fine, Money you have to get inside-” Baron grunted as Aslo barrelled into him. 

Aslo was younger than Baron, but Baron was bigger and a fighter through and through. It wouldn’t have even been a contest if Aslo hadn’t already skewered him through the ribs with a tent stake. Baron roared and swung a big fist in a wide berth, making contact with Aslo’s head. Aslo was nearly thrown to the side, if Baron had been at full strength Money had no doubt Aslo would be out cold.

Money held a shriek down, her throat pulled tight. The blood that had previously painted Baron’s front was now flooding with his own. It was darker and swelling so quickly Money couldn’t imagine it all coming from inside of him. She rushed forward. Her hands, small in comparison to Baron’s hulking frame, pressed down on the wound. Somehow it was to stop the bleeding — or maybe leaving the stake in there already did that — or should she be cleaning it or —-

Baron shoved Money away with his forearm, not hard enough to throw her off her feet but enough to get her out of the way as he rolled to his feet between her and Aslo. Before Aslo could even get to his feet a series of sharp thuds hit him, one in the neck, two in the chest. Three gleaming daggers. Aslo gasped and rattled, then sputtered and fell face first into the grass. Hissing. Choking. Then stillness.

Baron and Money turned in unison, the source of the daggers a young man, no older than his early twenties, in fighting leathers was perched atop a trailer. He was sporting a cloak, heavy and bearing the viasage of feathered wings.

“Crow,” Baron grunted, his chest heaving to take a single full breath. He was rattling.

The young man barely acknowledged them. Instead he turned his back and slid off his perch. He drew three more small throwing daggers and in the flash of an eye launched them towards what Money thought was object darkness. The thuds and groans that echoed after the singing of the blades begged to differ.

“Crow,” Baron called again, this time his voice was commanding, as if he had business that could not be ignored.

The young man turned to face Baron and looked him over thoughtfully, his styled moutache twitching with what Money could only guess was annoyance.

“Please,” Baron huffed, his big hand nudging Money, “there are children here…”

“They are not our marks,” the man said dryly, “they will not be touched.”

“Not good enough!” Baron shouted, a cough ripping through him and sending him onto one knee.

Money turned to him but he kept an arm out and held her at a distance.

“Money go,” he huffed.

‘No!” Money sobbed, hot tears welling in her eyes.

“Not with me, she’s not,” the man Baron called Crow scrunched his nose, “she’s a kid.”

“Exactly,” Baron was more ragged breaths that voice now, blood seeping into the fabric of his trousers.

The man stared at Baron, a strange look that Money didn’t bother to decipher crossed his features. He played at being stoic but he had yet to leave. Baron withdrew his hand from his back waistband. A roll, several layers of thin paper thick, of twine tied documents in his hand. “A contract,” he started, “for her safe delivery from this camp to a city.”

The man’s chin dipped sideways, his brow knit with peaked interest.

“The payment,” Baron thrust the papers forward past Money’s face, “Qunari  battle plans, logistics, code phrases- you name it, it’s here.” 

The man looked around, a cautious scan before jumping over the trailer and striding towards Money and Baron. He closed the distance quickly, he was agile and nimble and Money barely saw the grass beneath his feet shift. He snatched the papers from Baron’s hand and with a quick glance at the outermost document his eyes lit up. He looked over the roll and surveyed Baron carefully.

“Who were these meant for?” he asked, his eyes intense and probing.

“Highest bidder,” Baron gave a rueful grin, his eyes drooping, “Magisters passed —  biases ‘n all that.”

Crow raised a brow and he looked Baron over again, a gloved hand reaching forward almost reluctantly. Money made to intercept what she thought was no doubt a blow, the man was a killer after all. He swatted her hand away like it was nothing and yanked Baron’s knit cap from his head. 

“Ah,” Crow blinked, “we Crows are more open to… possibilities.” 

He placed the cap on the ground and held out his hand. Baron stared for a moment, Money could tell he was losing lucidity. It took a deep steadying breath and a few good long blinks but Baron mustered the strength and focus to raise his hand, coated in his own blood and clasp it in Crow’s. They shook hands, both Baron and Crow grimaced. The moment they let go, Crow wiped his gloved hand on his leathers and stood, depositing the roll of papers into a pouch at his hip.

“Very well,” Crow nodded, “a Crow always fullfills his contract.” 

In one swift movement Money was limp in his arms, braced against his chest and he was off into the dark tree line, a spattering of crows following him into the night.

***

The trees were dense and lucsious for this time of year, the sun barely poking through save in whispers of gold through the shifting leaves. Money felt heavy, like her body was an hourglass and all the sand had flowed to her back pinning her to the ground. This was a level of exhaustion she’d not felt since she was on the streets weighed down by hunger and illness. Only then the emptiness that gnawed at her was hunger, tangible pain born from neglect. This was different, so ravenous and crippling the bruising in her chest merely an inconvenience in comparison. Money had never lost anyone, before Baron and the circus she simply just didn’t have anyone.

She kept her eyes closed, the glowing greens and golds of nature untouched by her own cataclysm, mocking her. She wished she were melting into the plush earth below her, swallowed whole and forgotten.

“You can’t fool me, kid,” Crow’s melodic voice broke her solitude, “I know you’re awake.”

Crow. Rage boiled in Money’s gut, her muscles suddenly alive with vendetta.  He’d started this, him and his contracts. Money had never taken to sharing Baron’s rage, she’d always had been hard to stir any great emotion in. The world was cruel whether you screamed about the injustice or not. And yet, she was on her feet, bare against the tangled vines and charging. The thought that Crow was a trained assassin and not so easily sundered as to fall to a child’s fit of grief, hadn’t crossed her mind until she was already sailing downwards. Crow had side stepped her charge with ease and pressed a guiding hand to the back of her neck, steering her left away from a still smouldering fire pit. 

Dirt filled her mouth as she grunted on impact. Crow didn’t touch her after that, waiting patiently for her next move. In a series of clumsy movements Money rolled to her feet, dug into the earth and surged forward again. This time as Crow side stepped she reached out and latched onto a knife hoslter strapped to his thigh. She latched on and didn’t let go even when he parried her again, her momentum sending her spinning to the ground. Her weight on his leg was enough to pull him down too, the two kicking up dust and dirt. 

He’s down. A small victory considering he was a trained assassin and she was a child.

“Alright, that enou-” Crow began to chastise when Money interrupted him with a solid fist.

She made hard contact with his nose. She’d never punched anyone before. It hurt. Crow’s eyes nearly buldged from his head and he growled in pain. In one smooth movement his arm threaded up between them and came down on the side of Money’s head sending her world into orbit. He planted a foot at her stomach and shoved her away from him. 

“Mierda-” Crow huffed, his hand scooping up and amount of blood running down his face even Money was startled by, “-stupid fucking contract-”

He spat a glob of blood a little too close to Money for her liking.

“What is wrong with you?” He grunted rolling to his feet.

“You,” Money growled,the bruising in her chest was starting to feel much less like a mere inconvenience now. 

“Why?!” 

Money’s voice caught in her throat. Why? He’d technically killed Aslo. Why? Why did Aslo kill Baron in the first place? Why? Baron was the only good thing to happen to her. Why? 

Money threw herself onto her side, her eyes blurring with hot tears. She made it to her knees before a deep sob came, the blurred silhouette of Crow swayed awkwardly before her. 

“Why-” she breathed shakily, “whe were you there?”

“What?” Crow blinked.

“You ruined everything,” tears rolled down her cheeks, “why?”

“I’m a Crow I dont owe you-”

“WHY?!” She’d wanted to sound stronger, she’d wanted to be demanding like Baron had. Instead she found she was begging.

Crow hesitated, his bloodied hands awkwardly hovering above his hips and pockets. He settled with crossing them, tensing only a little as his blood spoiled his sleeves.

“We had a contract,” he spoke carefully, “the man I killed, he was in the contract.”

Money didn’t know what she was hoping for, what she thought knowing would do for her. She could have guessed that much, it still didn’t answer why. 

As if reading her mind Crow sighed.

“What your father gave me-” Crow sounded less sure of himself now, “ in exchange for your life… the Qun reports are a very large bounty, one so large perhaps the Crows would be willing to dismiss a contract to obtain.”

Aslo was trying to save himself.

Blood boiled in Money’s veins. Crow had been the one to kill him and that fact was melting her from the inside out. She felt it consuming her, revenge.

“Don’t do that,” Crow stepped forward and nudged Money’s foot with his own, “he’s dead, he got what he deserved.”

Money was starting to feel exposed with how Crow seemed to be able to read her. She didn’t like being so known. She took a long, deep breath. The air of the forest was cool and smelled sweet. She stared ahead, keeping her eyes still and willing the tears to stop. She didn’t need him, not with her, not in her head, not as a bodyguard. 

“Stop that,” Crow cleared his throat, “stop wallowing. That man was a slave trafficker, he smuggled nobels who deserved worse than death to safety all for a little  gold. There were a lot more people than just you who deserved a pound of flesh, but they couldn’t. I could. The crows could. You didn’t even have to pay to see him gone.”

“Who was he?” Money looked up at Crow. No one used their real names in the circus. 

“Marus Caldori, a slaver and real piece of work,” Crow scowled, the least neutral expression he’d had all day save after Money broke his nose, “he had many enemies throughout the Free Marshes.”

“And they paid you to kill him?” Money ground her teeth together, she imagined the other people who’d wanted him dead. 

“They paid for the Crows to kill the Orlesian nobles you had traveling with you,” Crow looked away, “ but his name was mentioned in the contact.”

“Why then —you killed him?” Money frowned.

“I Kirkwall, while we followed their trail north I met he parent’s of a little boy and little girl who were taken in the night, sold into slavery in the Tevinter Imperium by one Mr. Marus Caldori.” Crow uncrossed his arms and looked over the drying blood. “Some contracts are more worth taking than others, but all contracts are necessary.”

Money imagined all the Aslo’s Crow had gotten the chance to kill, all the wrongs he’d gotten to right. Perhaps she was conflating his accomplishments, perhaps she was thinking better of him than he really was.

“Why’d you become a Crow?” Money looked up at him, annoyed now how much taller he was than her.

“W-what?” Crow’s facade faltered for no longer than a breath, “that’s… none of your business.”

“Revenge?” Money pried, Crow knew too much for it not to be, “did you get it?”

Crow was quiet for a moment, his lips pressed together in a firm line. 

“Soon,” Crow conceded, “I’m working my way up.”

Money nodded, she thought hard about it, “I could be a crow.”

“You?” Crow laughed, an actual smile on his blood crusted lips, “ A crow?”

“I broke your nose,” Money grumbled.

“I let you,” Crow huffed.

“You didn’t let me!” Money pouted, “I got a good hit in!”

“Sure” Crow rolled his eyes, “and I certainly was not holding back at all against a child.” 

“No need to be embarrassed,” Money shrugged, “so, uh, how does it work? Being a crow?”

Crow looked her over as if he was making a final judgment. His arms crossed again and for a moment he looked unsure. 

“Well,” he held a hand out to Money who was less than enthused about taking the soiled glove, “for starters what’s your name?”

“Money,” she scrunched her nose as she took his hand.“De Riva,” Crow said in response, “you’re new house name. I’m Viago, your house Grandmaster. Don’t make me regret this… starting with your name, what the fuck is that?”

[dalishious]

Hello 👋🏻 Since you have the frosty editor and it’s not too much trouble- could you post anything you find on Neve in the files 🙏🏻🙏🏻

There's not much.

Age: 30

Description: A mage who knows the streets of Minrathous, Neve helps investigate crime in Tevinter's capital. Hired by Varric to assist in the fight against Solas, Neve brings her unique blend of time and ice magic, along with her investigative skills, to the team. Neve is clever and driven, with a dry-but-playful sense of humour. She can be cynical about the world - especially Minrathous - but she believes in doing the right thing herself and has a strong sense of duty.

[merrinla]

Exploring Ventus

The city of Ventus. We pictured it as the vacation destination for Tevinter, when the oppression of the big city becomes overwhelming. It's under Qunari occupation.

by Matt Rhodes

360 Ventus

Ventus sketch

Using maps to sketch the layout

Early on we explored the idea that seasons would effect traversal. If you came to Ventus in the winter, the sea would be frozen over, or in the fall the water receded, granting access to new areas.

Ventus' magic bridge. Qunari don't trust it, so they're building a physical bridge below.

In addition, the game files mention a cut mission in Ventus.

Description: Find where in Ventus the Necrovisi Golem Control Rod is being stored. Details: We have a standing order to raid the Centriale Museum in Occupied Ventus. When the Antaam took the city, Tevinter had to get out fast. Now the Antaam are sitting on storerooms of ancient relics, and they don't even know what they have. But we know. Half those crates are full because the LoF (Lords of Fortune) was hired to fill them. And now we've been hired to empty one. So get ready to take your skills above ground. It's like getting paid twice, and Tevinter doesn't care how loud we get.