#dragon age .˚ once upon a time in nevarra

[sanguinir]

tag drop 2 / xxx

[the-font-bandit]

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In The Gentle Hands of Death

Emmrich x Rook Fanfiction Dragon Age the Veilguard

1100 words in Chapter 6 (of 8) (20,100 total so far)

Rating: Teen and Up

Tags: Pining, Porn with Feelings (mild tho), Veilguard Spoilers, Lich Emmrich, Emmrich x Rook

Description: A short interlude from Emmrich's POV as he and Rook further explore their physical relationship after his lichdom.

Notes: Mostly sweet, but there is a bit of spice. If the Lich Emmrich vibe is not your thing, this chapter can feasibly be skipped.

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Chapter 6

Emmrich should have left Rook in bed, let her sleep while he found ways to fill the time that slumber once would have taken. But he couldn't bear to stray from her side. 

Ever since the lich rites, worry had plagued him. 

Had he made a mistake?

Oh, Rook had been acting like everything was perfectly fine. Like nothing had changed. But how could that be true?  He did possess a mirror, and he knew how the rest of Thedas viewed the dead, outside Nevarra. They did not respect the remains left behind, remains such as those he now occupied. 

Even among Nevarrans, some of those outside the Watchers still felt uneasy when visibly confronted with reminders of their mortality. 

How could Rook possibly be unconcerned?

She stirred in her sleep, muttering something incomprehensible and curling against him. In the past when she'd done so, sometimes her horns would dig into the skin of his shoulder, but there was no skin left.

He wouldn't pretend it had been an easy transition for him, either. It was remarkable, that much was true. To be held together by the wonders of the Fade, a construct of magic and life and death. 

The world looked strange, felt strange. But Rook… she was his anchor. The thing that made sense in all of it, an axle upon which his world pivoted.

And against all odds, she remained at his side.

Right now, the woman he adored more than anything was warm and soft against him, snoring ever so slightly as she was wont to do.

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Read more of Chapter 6 on AO3 here

or start at the beginning here

[serbarris]

Sweet music playing in the dark

Dragon Age: the Veilguard, some spoilers for plot, spoilers for Emmrichs romance  Pairing: F!Rook Ingellvar x Emmrich Volkarin  Rating: T   Summary: A slight reimagining of Emmrich and Rook's romantic interest confession scene with the wisps. Words: 1730 Set after the 3rd scene in I'll Crawl Home to Her

Added to ao3

“Ah, Rook! I’m glad you're here, I was wondering if you could satisfy my curiosity.” Calliope nodded, making her way over to Emmrich as he perched on the desk atop the landing in his quarters. Her anxiety spiked slightly as she wondered what Emmrich could be asking about but nevertheless allowed him to continue, “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you not mention you were once my student before the other night?”   

Calliope pondered her answer. Would now be a good time to admit her crush? No, but Emmrich has been somewhat reciprocating her poor attempts at flirting, so he must somewhat also at least consider her enough of a friend to appease her, and let her down gently, so she could try to be open with him. “I was a bit embarrassed,” she began, watching Emmrich’s eyebrows raise. “Not by your teaching! You were a good teacher, a great teacher, I... I just didn’t know if it would be weird for you to know - since we’re working on saving the world together.” It was also for her own benefit that Emmrich didn’t try to remember Calliope as a scrawny young woman, always behind in the latest fashion due to the hand-me-downs the other watchers passed to her.    

“Seeing you now, I believe I made entirely the right choice in accepting you into my class all those years ago. I must admit, I quite envy you, Rook.”    

“Really?” Calliope asked, breathlessly, how could she be the envy of Emmrich? When she still yearned for his knowledge and techniques to manipulate the fade and spirits, he showed her every day how much she could grow as a Watcher.   

“You know how seldom Watchers leave Nevarra, if ever. You’ve already travelled more of Thedas than most of us see in a lifetime. What adventures you’ve had!” Wonder and excitement permeated every word. It filled Calliope with a warm feeling and the hope that maybe Emmrich was just as fascinated with her as she was with him. Any pride in herself however was coated with a hint of darkness, she hadn’t really wanted to go on the adventures she had in the last 12 or so months, they were rather forced upon her due to her ‘agreed break’ from the Mourn Watch, which still made her question, daily – if not hourly - if she regretted her actions.   

“I wish the choice to have those adventures was completely my own, but it’s flattering you think me a grand adventurer.”   

“Well, something thrills at travelling with a daring young woman who’s racing to stop an apocalypse.” Inevitably a pink flush rose to her cheeks and heated them fiercely, just as it had at any other time Emmrich complimented Calliope. “Especially if she’s shown unexpected interest in an old Professor?” Calliope’s heart felt like it was pounding too fast, or too slow - she wasn’t very good at biology when it came to live humans - but she felt her pulse thud in her ears as her mouth became dry. Emmrich smiled as if he could sense the way her skin felt too tight, that her brain had so many thoughts rushing through that she struggled to form a coherent sentence. As she replied he tried to follow her face, which she shied away, hiding to the side, not wanting to meet Emmrich’s own eyes. “You have a very... charming way of putting things.”   

“Well thank you. I have taken notice of how you always compliment my work, Rook. It’s most flattering considering your own abilities. Perhaps those years at the lectern have proved useful.” Pondered Emmrich, considering the skull in his hand, Calliope could see a thought cross his face before he turned to her and asked, “May I show you something of the greater Fade here?” His voice was deeper as he asked, thrumming under Calliope’s skin.   

She managed to let out, “Please.” It was almost a whisper.   

“Close your eyes. Take a breath.” Calliope couldn’t resist taking a peek at Emmrich as she felt him move closer, her senses heightened, “Ah.” Emmrich admonished, “Slow. Deep.” Emmrich lightly gripped Calliope’s hand, guiding it to rest on the top of the skull, covering her hand with his own, she felt his rings press against her meagre jewellery. As Emmrich spoke an incantation, she felt a tingling sensation from underneath her fingers, she felt the ripples of magic spread around them, electrifying their surroundings. Feeling a presence nearby, she moved slightly, her nose being tickled by the unknown apparition. Slowly opening her eyes, she gasped with awe as she was met with a flurry of wisps of all different sizes dancing around herself and Emmrich. They danced and twirled around reminding her of the paintings of ballrooms in Vorgoth’s collection. Mesmerised she stared as the wisps encircled the pair, drawing her closer to Emmrich, she could almost feel his breath on her face, “If your attentions go beyond charming flattery... that would interest me, indeed.”    

Calliope took a moment to register Emmrich’s words. His tender, questioning voice. She must be dreaming, right? This wasn’t happening. Emmrich Volkarin, famed Fade expert, and corpse whispering extraordinaire, who she’s been infatuated with since she was 16 is interested in her. If she went back and told herself this day was happening then young Calliope probably would have fainted, Maker, present Calliope felt like she could faint. “I’ve always -”   

Hiss   

Her breathless confession was cut off by the arrival of Manfred. Sweet, precious Manfred. Calliope's sigh of relief was louder than she anticipated, but she was glad she hadn’t blurted out that she had found him attractive and had dreamed about the slightest possibility Emmrich also reciprocated her feelings. As Calliope made her way towards the stairs, Emmrich caught her arm, “Rook, I must attend to this, but I’d be delighted if we found each other later.”   

Calliope knocked on Emmrich’s door, hoping she wasn’t imposing too much by inviting herself for tea. Emmrich did tell her to find him later, and Calliope did ask Emmrich after dinner if it was okay for her to join, but Calliope’s mind liked to play tricks on her, unpicking every situation with a fine-toothed comb and twisting it to go against Calliope's desires and intentions.   

She could hear a fast clacking against the flagstone floor as Manfred ran to open the door, an excited hiss erupting from his mandible as he gestured for her to enter. A teapot and cups were set up on a table in front of a settee, steam rising. Emmrich rose from his seat as Calliope entered, “Rook! Perfect timing, Manfred just poured the tea.”

Waving her over and guiding her to her seat on the settee, Emmrich bid Manfred thanks as Calliope heard Manfred clamber up the stairs. “I hope I prepared your tea to your liking,” Emmrich said, handing Calliope her teacup and saucer. It certainly looked how she would prepare it; with a small amount of milk and as she took a sip, she noticed a slight sweetness. Emmrich had even paid attention to how much sugar she added to her tea. “It’s... perfect.” A relief washed over Emmrich’s features, and he settled back on the settee with his own brew. They exchanged small anecdotes, from both before and during Calliope's time at the Necropolis, they spoke for so long the fire had started to dim, being neglected by both of them, the pot of tea long finished. Calliope steeled herself as she attempted to bring the conversation to a similar vein to earlier that day. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you outside of lectures or Necropolis gossip, Emmrich. I was worried you’d high tail it home when you realised I was a former student of yours.”    

“Well, I didn’t expect a fellow Watcher at all, but you are a very skilled necromancer Rook, you shouldn’t doubt that.”   

“If you said that to adolescent Calliope, I think she would have died happy knowing the Professor she’s infatuated with thought so highly of her.” Calliope braced herself. She finally said it. She had been trying to work her crush into conversation all evening. That was, of course, the point of tea, to come clean, and admit her longstanding feelings. Her doodles in the margins of books and her picking flower petals (he likes me, he likes me not) might actually come to fruition. She had to be honest. She felt bad enough that she had hidden this behind flirting for weeks. Neve and Bellara goaded her at every opportunity to admit how she felt. She had been rehearsing responses to made-up questions all afternoon in anticipation of this evening, of course, none of the scenarios came to be realised.  

Now that she had admitted her feelings, felt like a weight had been lifted, even if her body tensed, waiting for the surely coming rejection. Emmrich reached across to where Calliope’s hand rested on the settee cushion, taking it in his own as he looked into her eyes, “My dear I had guessed that might have been the case. Your cheeks bloom the most delightful shade of pink when you talk to me.” As if on cue Calliope’s cheeks felt hotter, she shied away, trying to hide the flush, but Emmrich tenderly gripped her chin, tilting her face and moving closer so he could study her deepening blush. “Exquisite,” Emmrich murmured, Calliope’s brain mercifully was clear of thought. She had simply transcended into a state of shock. Calliope saw Emmrich’s eyes dart across her face, her eyes, her blush and her lips. She gravitated towards Emmrich, until eventually, their breaths mingled, their faces so close it would only take a few millimetres of movement to close the gap between their lips.   

So, Calliope moved.   

Emmrich’s lips were impossibly soft and tasted of tea. It took Emmrich a second to realise they were indeed kissing before he reciprocated with passion.   

Calliope felt Emmrich’s grip on her chin loosen as the kiss deepened, pulling her from her fervour. With a jolt, she stood up, knee knocking against the table making the tea set clatter, as she backed away. “I... I’m so sorry.” She apologised as she rushed out the door, her fingers grazing over her swollen lips. Emmrich sat, stupefied as Manfred ambulated down the stairs, a questioning hiss reverberating around the room. “I’m not sure Manfred, I’ll speak to Rook tomorrow. Give her some time.” 

[outerspacejellyfish]

The Foundling of the Grand Necropolis

or the shitpost Mourn Watch origin no one asked for

Once upon a time, though not truly that long ago...somewhere between the years of around 9:36 Dragon and uhhh probably somewhere toward the end of the Blessed Age, idk your Rook can be ancient if you want I'm no fandom cop

Once, a babe was found upon a tomb in Nevarra's Grand Necropolis.

Whence came this babe? From whomst? And hownst did it come to be in the Grand Necropolis, of all places? No one knows, for the devs saw not fit to think of an explanation for this mystery.

Anyway.

The caterwauling of the babe drew the attention of the denizens of the Necropolis, who had heard not such a sound in all the long years of their undeath. Finally, one brave skellyman strode forth to investigate, and upon finding the babe, said "Oh! An alive baby!"

And after some consideration, the brave skellyman said "I shall call it Squishy, and it shall be mine and it shall be my Squishy."

A curious wisp, emboldened by the brave skellyman's approach, said "but my dude, it is an alive baby! You cannot keep an alive baby. We do death here, sir."

And thus skellyman and wisp squabbled over the fate of the babe, until finally word reached Vorgoth in the upper reaches of the Necropolis, and Vorgoth said:

WHAT.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN THERE'S AN ALIVE BABY ABANDONED IN THE NECROPOLIS.

LIKE WITHOUT PARENTS? LIKE A CHILD IN A SUPERMARKET?

ALAS THAT THE INTERCOM CEASED WORKING IN THE STEEL AGE.

And so mighty Vorgoth swooped down upon the babe (but like, in a non-bad way), and carried it to the nearest alive people: the necromancers of the Mourn Watch. And the Mourn Watch said "but why was there an abandoned baby in the Grand Necropolis. Where are the parents. Who left it. We have questions."

But Vorgoth was unyielding:

CEASE THINE QUESTIONS, FOR THIS ALIVE BABY REQUIRES THE CARE OF FLESH AND BLOOD. FLESH WE HAVE IN PLENTY, ROTTING AWAY TO NAUGHT, AND FUNERAL BLOOD HAS WATERED THE MEMORIAL FLOWERS, BUT THE ALIVE BABE REQUIRES MORE.

"Well okay then," said the Mourn Watch. "I guess we're raising a baby now."

The End

[kitkabam]

The One With the Wyvern Toy - Part One.

[Summary: Comet, also known as our beloved Rook to the The Veilguard, decides that out of appreciation for his recent work on the field that she would make Lucanis a gift. There's just one small issue— how do you make a Wyvern plush?]

Written before the official release of Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

The Fade worked differently than the real world, this fact known to just about all citizens of Thedas who dabbled in the depths of magic and the workings of the veil that stirred in every corner of this world, and perhaps many others. One instance of the Fade not following the natural laws of reality was in regards to time— night and day did not simply exist. Perhaps the scenery could change according to the memories reflected in dreams, painting over the walls of the veil like vivid murals created from practiced and precise hands. But in the end it was all part of ones imagination if the dream captured a bright sunny day, or a muggy moonless night.

The Lighthouse itself was something still of a mystery to the those that currently occupied its vast space; the place was tucked into a corner of the Fade that could only be touched by its previous owner, who had used this as his hideout for all nine years before the present day. Before it was a clear reflection of the loneliness of the ancient god; a dining table that could fit well over eight seated only for one, a single plate and pair of cutlery at the ready. It lacked much for decorations, as if this place wasn't originally meant to really be a 'home' much less a refuge to more than a single being. Yet the Veilguard made due with what they could, adding what personal touches they wished, making this place livelier, filling it's quiet halls with unseen warmth.

Comet was proud to see what her companions have done with the place, on top of what they've accomplished so far with their mission. It made her heart swell with hope that things will be okay, that the consequences of her actions at the ritual sight would be properly cleaned up and Thedas can one day breathe a sigh of relief knowing it's people were closer once more to true peace. Maybe that was a little too optimistic, but as she passed the giggling pair of Harding and Neve that lounged on one of the sofas...well, perhaps their energy was contagious.

The elf did her best to remain as quiet as she could, her foot falls light upon the Fade woven floor, not wishing to disturb the moment between her two friends. Comet just wanted to grab a quick cup of something— water, maybe, or something warm like tea. Emmerich had gifted her a blend from Nevarra that he said promoted better sleep. 'You'll be so deep in your slumber that we might think you're dead! Er, that is to say of course, it won't kill you—' He had to reassure her almost immediately, since her features morphed into one of genuine fear at the idea that such a harmless brew might bring her end closer than she would like. And after ten minutes of breathing exercises lead by the old gentleman and another round of assurance, Comet believed he spoke the truth and promised to try it as soon as she found the opportunity.

It just wasn't on her agenda to have it be a month later. Oops.

Once she entered the threshold of the kitchen she was greeted with the smell of something covered in a perfect blend of spices and different to the young warden— especially since she had mostly lived off rations and the occasional tavern meal. The sounds of a busy kitchen filled her ears, making their pointed tips twitch in response; a sizzling pan, something being cut across the cutting board, and the low murmur of a flame kissing the edges of tools used solely for cooking great dishes. It was...comforting, making the ambience of the hideout even more homey. Comet could get lost in the atmosphere...if it weren't for the cook who had caught wind of her approach before she even had a chance to make her presence known.

After all, Lucanis Dellamorte had been trained to sharpen all five of his senses for his work— it was inevitable he would learn the exact way his newfound allies stepped around him, how to know when someone was nearby and who it was. He had heard her footsteps earlier, even when she tried to be more silent as she tread, and knew that she had the intent to be here. What she wanted....well, he could figure that out too.

Hence the kettle on the stovetop that was close to a boil.

"It'll be done in three minutes." He moved the chopped carrots into the pan where he surveyed the meat being cooked- just another minute before it needed to be flipped- before he placed celery onto the cutting board,"Do you need my assistance in pouring it again or can I trust you won't burn yourself?"

Comet jumped at his voice, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest to run back into the other room. A yelp left her, loud and pathetic, followed by a cringe as soon as she realized such a sound could be heard throughout the entire lighthouse. Her cheeks burned with immediate embarrassment; her bright teal eyes darted to her feet as her hands called into fists at her sides, her composure tense like a frightened cat.

"S..Sorry! I..I didn't meant to-" She gulped,"...I can pour it myself, I just need to remember where the rag is so- wait! H..How did you know I was gonna be here f..for tea?!"

"...Every night you drink it before going back to your room."

"O..Oh. Yeah, that does make sense then.."

The silence was much louder to the elf than it was to the crow who moved with quick precision as he placed the cut pieces of celery into the pan, smoothly flipping the juicy cut of meat over to cook the other side to his liking.

But...it wasn't anything uncomfortable. No, in truth, Comet found that Lucanis didn't really try to make things awkward— it just happened, mainly because that's how she was. Awkward, and terrible at keeping conversations with possibly good looking people.

"...What are you making?" Her voice came out a bit strained, but that was mostly due to nerves. Her hands shook a little as she fiddled with her fingers, making her way further into the kitchen,"...It...smells good."

"Antivan dish. If I want a good meal around these parts from home, have to make it myself." Lucanis looked at her from the corner of his eye— her hair was out of its usual messy updo; strawberry blonde curls pouring over her shoulders and backside like unruly springs. She drowned in her navy dyed tunic- she swore when he questioned it was more for comfort than appearance- half of it tucked into the leggings that left little to the imagination of the shapes and curves of her...- ahem, moving on.

Comet nodded, her attention glued to the tea kettle as she waited for it to whistle. Her palms started to sweat, the young woman quick to wipe them on the sides of her leggings.

"I hope you enjoy it..I know you're a great cook, so...! A..As I'm sure everyone else would agree!" The last bit was rushed out, a quick attempt to cover up any chance it might've been mistaken for something...more.

"Thanks."

Food sizzling, flames flickering...did Neve and Harding leave the next room, or were they suddenly just speaking quieter than before?

The kettle whistled. Before Comet could begin her search for the rag she used to protect her hands from the hot handle, it appeared right in front of her, dangled by the assassin's fingers like it were a treat meant to tantalize her. She took it with a quiet 'thank you' before wrapping it around the kettle handle, bringing it over to the counter.

"What kind of tea are you making yourself tonight? Chamomile? Jasmine?" Lucanis swooped in and turned off the flame that once boiled the tea kettles water, knowing she'd forget, she always did,"...I doubt you'd want black tea this late. Unless you are writing another report for the Wardens?"

"No, I plan on writing one tomorrow night. I want to try these tea leaves that Emmerich brought me from his home. He says they should help me sleep better at night." The tip of Comet's nose twitched,"I don't remember the flavor notes...he described them to me, but I..I might've zoned out a little."

"Emmerich...brought you tea?" Lucanis asked before he could bite his own tongue,"Careful. It might have 'hints of grinded bone from some undead Nevarran noble for richness' ,or just something dead related."

A giggle, like the gentle clinking of wind chimes in the spring breeze, left her. The corners of her eyes crinkled sweetly too— it quelled the pinch of something bitter that threatened to sour the Crow's mood.

"I doubt that detail would slip past me, even if I was lost in thought. He reassured me...several times in a row actually...that the tea is good and won't harm me. So I'm sure the leaves are a combination of your usual with, perhaps, a hint of some plant known only in Nevarra. Kinda like that one tea that Neve bought a few weeks ago. Said it was a Tevinter specialty, but the only difference that I remember was one ingredient." Comet rambled as she got herself a mug, poured the hot water (carefully, with as steady of a hand as she could) before she placed the kettle back on the stovetop (when did the flame get turned off?) and opened a cupboard to find the bag of tea leaves as well as a steeper,"Although the tea Neve got was definitely spiced...good for clearing up a clogged nose, not as a sleep aid."

Her eyes searched long and hard, eyebrows knitted together when she couldn't find exactly what she was looking for— especially because she remembered Emmerich precisely saying where he placed the bag of tea.

‘Oh, don't worry about putting that away! You look dreadfully exhausted and I'd hate to add to it further with such a small task. Allow me to do so- I'll place it in the cupboard to the right of the stove, on the top shelf!’

Ah…yes…the…top shelf. That would explain why she wasn't able to spot it so clearly from first glance. Comet strained her neck back to get a better view of at least the front of the highest shelf in the cupboard. Low and behold there it was; a velvet pouch, the fabric a beautiful verdant green, sitting peacefully besides some other herbs and spices. She had definitely forgotten that little detail in regards to the conversation between her and their neighborhood Mourn Watcher. Her eyebrows furrowed further, a frown on her lips. How was she going to reach all the way up there on her own…? She was almost as tall as a dwarf! Hells, only just a few mere inches taller than their own dearest scout! There was no way she would be able to reach it!

…But she wouldn't be a proper Grey Warden if she didn't give it her best shot, she supposed.

A short, mental, pep talk later Comet went to the very tips of her toes, her dominant arm- her left- stretching the furthest it was capable, strain visible on her face…only to brush against the exterior of the bag with the edges of her nails. She let out a defeat puff of air as she lowered herself back to standing flat on the ground, shoulders slumped downward in a pathetic display of what she considered immediate surrender. She can't believe that out of all the enemies she's faced so far this is what brings her down! Maybe she should suggest they find a durable step ladder or perhaps she could look into a spell that'd conjure one with the flick of her wrist.

Now that would be useful…why hadn't she thought to look into that one sooner…?

“Ahem, if I may?”

Oh, right, she wasn't alone in the kitchen.

“Last I checked, you weren't doing any better with reaching that shelf either.” Her eyes fully met Lucanis' own this time, fueled by the brief spark of adrenaline that pumped through her veins to voice such a playful remark aloud,”...Or are you calling Neve a liar?”

Lucanis feigned offense, though dropping it in favor of turning off the flame that fanned beneath his cooking pan so that he could step to stand closer to the elf without worrying he might accidentally overcook his homemade meal.

“Even a detective, who works to expose the truth about her cases, might fib now and again. But I digress, while at times I may struggle…I have a technique to help.” He flourished one of his daggers— always sharpened like new, hidden across his figure in places none may suspect—”Watch me.”

He didn't need to tell her twice.

With the quickness and precision of someone who has done this plenty of times to get it just right, Lucanis used what reach he had to get as close as he could before using the knife as an extension to his person, the tip of the blade catching to the rope that held the top of the velvet bag closed, careful as to not cut it clean in the process, and lowered the knife with the bag dangling helplessly. The corner of the antivans mouth twitched upward as he held the knife pierced bag to the speechless warden.

If anyone saw this, it looked as if Comet was truly starstruck by the assassin who accomplished such a great feat in her honor. The truth? He reached the top shelf without having pulled a single muscle whereas she would've given up after one single try.

“Unless you want me to steep the tea for you, I'd suggest taking the bag.”

“A-Ah! R..Right!”

She held out the palms of her hands, cupped with not a single finger leaving room for the slightest crack, and Lucanis pulled his blade out from the rope holding the bag closed, letting it fall gently into the young woman's waiting grasp. Comet gave him a small smile of thanks before she looked down to the bag; there was evidence of tampering from the knife, but she didn't mind. If the rope did end up eventually giving up before she could finish the bag full of leaves, well, she'd find a replacement.

“Do you also use that technique of yours to get jars…?” She asked as she prepared the tea leaves for steeping.

“...No. In truth, I have multiple methods. You have to, when you come to accept you won't be growing any taller.”

A chuckle filled the spice scented air before the kitchen fell silent, much to the dismay of the two eavesdroppers in the next room.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

It wasn't long after she finished preparing her tea that Comet made her way back to her own personal quarters. It was a space that was only now slightly decorated; her bed was a messy pile of blankets of various different fabrics, pillows of all sizes that looked to have only a bit of worn to their appearance, and a single handmade crow plush that sat in the center, as if the little fella was the proud owner of what a real bird may consider the coziest best to ever be created by feathery…wings. Not hands, because birds don't have hands…right? Right!

She placed the cup of tea on the wooden table beside her bed, allowing it to take a moment to cool down some more as her body melted into the mattress that welcomed her with open arms. Her nose was immediately buried into the biggest of all the pillows that encircled her, arms tucked beneath it to pull it closer as she inhaled the scent of ticklish lavender, refreshing pine, and a hint of cherry- most likely because of her favored perfume oil that she loved to apply after a much needed cleaning. A heavy exhale was let out into the pillow before Comet rolled to lay on her back, eyes facing up to the ceiling as her hands and legs remained outstretched to make her seem more like a harmless starfish in a sea of mix matched fabric.

In her mind swam the memories of several minutes prior— especially the times where she'd catch a peak of Lucanis’ tiny smile, the way his laughter filled the air, the hint of a twinkle in what she'd describe to be the most beautiful pair of eyes that she's ever seen…

Comet’s face burned, her heart swelled up at the mere thoughts that would best be compared to the writings in that one series Varric wrote— Swords and Shields. She never read it herself, really, she only heard some comments floating about in Weishaupt. Some of her comrades were romantics, always having their attention enraptured by the sappy words printed upon some page held together by thread and binded to a cover with greatly exaggerated art of the lovers. It was inevitable she'd end up hearing tidbits of some romance novels, and from what she gathered they were always over the top with the descriptions. Much like her own imagination, especially when she got too deep into her racing thoughts in moments where she needed a clear head.

Except…right now she didn't really mind the images her brain conjured for her since they were going to be memories she would never get tired of seeing played out behind her eyelids.

This silly crush was going to be the death of her.

Not that she thought it was horrible of such a thing to have developed; no, no, surely it was something that couldn't have been helped given that Lucanis had done so much- not just for her, but for the Veilguard as a whole. He was the one that brought darkness to the light, getting his hands messy where everyone else wouldn't have the heart to do the same. An Antivan Crow, whose death was falsified and identity kept hidden the best it could, decided to help their cause, even if by all means he didn't need to do so. Sure what they faced threatened the very state of the entire world, however Lucanis could've very well have passed up the offer to join to continue on his own way.

And the fact he didn't…was enough to draw forth feelings of appreciation alone. Comet had no idea what she would've even done had he rejected the invitation— crawl up in a hole and die in embarrassment maybe, mourn the loss of what could've no doubt been a great asset to the team. Of course she didn't really need to think about that coming to fruition , but it was still enough to make her wonder if, well…Lucanis knows how much his efforts were welcomed and appreciated.

Comet was aware that he viewed his work with the Crows to be…more like a job that paid well more than his life's passion. He was good at what he did- killing, obviously - but here he treated being a part of their ragtag group as more than just some duty he needed to uphold. Well maybe he didn't see it that way, but the mage did at least! So with that in mind…perhaps there was a way to show how much his time spent towards their goal meant to her- to everyone.

But what could that be? Think, Comet, think! What's something that Lucanis would like that he'd be a little touched to receive for his contributions thus far? Would he like flowers? No, no, with her luck he could be allergic. Or maybe she could cook something for him for a change! No…no wait she didn't know a thing about cooking…

A frown fell upon her lips— whatever could she possibly do? The idea of asking the others for their ideas embarrassed her, flushing her face an even deeper shade of red as the images of them poking fun at her flashed into her head. She shook them away, determined to not let herself get deterred!

That was when it hit her.

Wyverns…Lucanis likes them, right? Or he had a fascination with them at some point? What if…

Comet's eyes trailed down to her little crow- Caw. She's not as crafty as the Senior Warden who practically raised her, however if it was for him…for the opportunity to make him smile…it was worth a try!

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

[Writers Note: Hello! Thank you so much for reading part one of a one shot that was meant to be one huge part but ended up being so long I decided to separate it into two! I hope you all enjoyed reading! 🩵 I can't wait to continue writing more. Feel free to like, reblog & share! I appreciate the support.]

Link to my ko-fi if you want to tip, or even commission me 👇

[choccy-zefirka]

Old Man Friendship: the Lore

I will make my Alexius-to-Emmrich pipeline canon or so help me

As previously established in my recent ficlet, at one point when they were still apprentices (aged 17 and 15 respectively), Emmrich and Johanna stumbled upon mentions of an interesting-sounding book written by some posh fellow in Tevinter, but could not find a copy in Nevarra. So, once Emmrich thoroughly rejected Johanna’s plan to sneak off across the Tevinter border and steal the book from a magister’s library, they wrote a letter to the book’s author. Who turned out to be Alexius! Not much older than the apprentice duo, he was an aspiring researcher, a young magister trying to overwrite his father’s oppressive legacy, and, of course, happy father to a baby boy appropriately named Felix.

Charmed by the two Nevarrans’ spunk, Alexius wrote back, sending them the book and his regards. Johanna did not hold a particularly high opinion of him as a nobleman, but Emmrich was friendlier, once he made certain he was talking to a fellow scholar that was, in fact, quite passionate about providing the lowborn with a quality education. The two continued a correspondence that spanned years, with multiple in-person visits (at least on Alexius’ part, as Nevarran mages still appear somewhat restricted, at least within the confines of the Necropolis), to exchange research ideas and gossip, once Emmrich found out that the rebellious, brilliant-but-flippant kid he’d tutored at one point was now Alexius’ full-time apprentice.

Perhaps on certain occasions, Alexius would also bring along his family (i.e. Felix and Felix’s mother Livia). I feel like Johanna would be thrilled to hear the story about how Livia killed her father-in-law before he could kill Felix for being bad at magic and besmirching the family legacy. If I could have my way, I would say, for extra angst, that the fateful darkspawn attack that cost Livia her life and left Felix infected, happened as the mother and son were on the way to see their good friend Emmrich for Satinalia, with Alexius staying behind in Minrathous to finish up some business… But they were travelling through the Anderfells, so the geography does not make sense.

Be that as it may, as he spiraled deeper and deeper into his desperate attempts to cure Felix, Alexius visited the Necropolis one last time (while temporarily leaving Felix in the care of Dorian, who was still helping him create a Blight-stalling medicine at that point). He tried to break into the lower vaults to plunder them for an artefact that might help him, which Emmrich could not allow, much as his heart ached for his friend. Especially with lichdom on the line! So he had to essentially wrestle a wild-eyed, disheveled Alexius for control of the lift, magic flying everywhere, probably words being said that could not be unsaid. He never expected to see Alexius again, certainly not after a letter he got from Dorian, informing him that Alexius had joined the Venatori and Dorian himself broke off ties with him. I am unsure where exactly on the timeline Johanna got exiled from the Watch, but either way, Emmrich would now lose not one but two friends to the allure of dark magic!

During the events of Veilguard, my version of Alexius (i.e. alive and redeemed through service to the Inquisition, plus with Felix somewhere out there as a Warden as a nice bonus) either helps the Shadow Dragons against the Venatori or joins the field hospital in Treviso, utilizing his previous research into the Blight. He inevitably runs into Emmrich, who is astonished and deeply moved as he recognizes if not the man he used to know, then a version of him that sank to the terrible depths of grief and self-destruction but clawed his way back up. (“Ugh, he turned out to be a weakling after all!” Johanna’s skull scoffs).

More often than not, Alexius is accompanied by his beloved, the Inquisitor (I have several of those, as I have several Emmrichmancer Rooks). For example, in Evaraas Mercar’s verse, it’s Issala Adaar, a towering statuesque goddess of a woman who gently bends down to kiss her dear magister, hair streaming down her shoulders, with the vibes of Ponyo’s parents from Studio Ghibli. It does not take a lot of prodding for Harding to spill all the details of the Inquisitor’s epic enemies to lovers romance with a former evil cultist, who already lost the love of his life once but dared open his heart to new hope and new affection. And Emmrich, a known enjoyer of enemies to lovers novels at the book club, is utterly entranced and a little envious… And then he does the mental math.  Alexius is about ten years his senior; so when he and the Inquisitor found each other, when they went from villain and hero to battle couple, when his former enemy’s compassion gave him the strength to live and love again — he was the same age Emmrich is now! It might not be too late!... Is this allowed?

[redteethed]

AU 02 : Dragon Age The Veilguard

[anything not changed here is likely / roughly the same as his canon verse]

Tag: so much more past the mountains [datv au]

Race: human (non-mage)

Locations: currently varies, but has spent most time in Nevarra & the Free Marches since crossing the Hunterhorns; grew up & lived in the Carja Sundom (a kingdom west of the Hunterhorn Mountains, northwest of the Sea of Ash)

Occupations: currently the chosen leader of the Freeriders (given the epithet 'Red Teeth'); former slave-soldier for the Carja Sundom

Main Weapon: a bow named Voice Of Our Teeth that can fold / lock into a spear form

Main Transportation: a Green Dales Feral mare named Kerra

AU Backstory: Being born into slavery in the Carja Sundom (especially under Sun-king Jiran) meant no chance at freedom within its borders. It meant being carried in a sling by his mother until he was old enough to walk - & thus, to work. It meant watching his mother's death by punishment. It meant a sun branded upon his neck. It meant occasional lingering stares & intrigued whispers as he grew up with his mother's looks. It meant a horrible bedroom proposition... Then his first drawing of blood. Once his owners were dead, the same day he joined the ranks of the slave-soldiers - the lowest & most endangered infantry, comprised of both banished Carja & war prisoners from the neighboring Tenakth Lands. He survived years of battles & raids, his prowess earning the tattoos below his eyes. Eventually, Sun-king Jiran's ambition turned eastward, over the mountains. Against the good sense of advisors & princes, Jiran commanded an expeditionary force be sent over the Shadowspine (the Carja name for the Hunterhorn Mountains) to begin expanding the Sundom further. His small squadron of slave-soldiers - the rest of whom were Tenakth - was part of this force. They were the only ones to reach the eastern edge of the Tirashan Forest alive. He emerged with the epithet 'Red Teeth'. With far greater loyalty to each other now than they ever had to Sun-king Jiran, they never returned to the Sundom. (They also never got to see Jiran's overthrow by the surviving prince Avad, nor the peace striven for afterward.) Instead, they continued eastward into Orlais, then Nevarra, then the Free Marches; they mostly lived off the land, as he - having now named himself Nil - refused to allow theft from the villages & farms they encountered. Nobles & the like, he was far less picky about. In the Free Marches, the group each found & tamed a Green Dales Feral for themselves. Josekk, once a part of the Tenakth cavalry, taught them all how to ride. Nil took to it and its sense of freedom, rising steadily to be the best rider among them. They often race while traveling, & spar when camped, sometimes combining the two. To earn gold for food & other upkeep, they take on jobs for scouting or for protecting travelers.

Outfit Changes:

[emerald-amidst-gold]

WIP Wednesday

Wednesday! Wednesday! I love Wednesday because I get to shaaaaaaaaare! X3

Thank you @whataboutbugs for the tag! Let me show everyone what I’m working on! 

I’ve been doing a lot of prompts on Tumblr lately to help me develop my skills and style, but I finally managed to begin working on Chapter 10 of my main fic! Here’s a snippet!

The Keeper sighed. “Avan was not the one to break a nose, Fane.”, she pointed out, more shifting sounded as a far smaller body than his leaned forward, trying to draw his gaze in some way, but he kept his glare firm, burning, as he bore holes into wood and disgusting tapestries of silent beings and pathetic pride. “He is not covered in your blood, only his own, and I need to understand why before I pass judgement on him or you. So, this discussion is not pointless if you use your voice instead of your fist, da’len.”

The room was silent, stagnant, tense as those words hung around them, permeating the air with their delivery and echoing in the exhausted, but irritated halls of Fane’s fraying mind, the distant roars from earlier gone, but not the crimson lights or the blackened curtains that shaded them so they merely flickered forebodingly. He felt his fingers dig, claw into his arms, sharp pangs of pain surging up and down them, but he ignored it, let himself feel it because it was the only thing keeping him ‘calm’ as the crimson torches occasionally brightened, grew, taunting and teasing for him to lose control again. The Keeper wanted him to use his voice, but what good would it do? Would it help to yell, to scream, to throw around pathetic words like the clan did, like Avan had?! No, he would not stoop that low! He wouldn’t give these idiots the satisfaction!

He would be silent. Just like he had to do nine years ago, magic suffocating him as it poured down his throat, burning and hot, and as metal peeled back his flesh, the bearer of the blade hissing, commanding that he remain quiet or more blood would spill! The blood drying on his face and on his hand were nothing compared to the buckets of his that had been filled! But this..this disgusting woman would ignore that, turn her back, just as she and the rest of the clan had done, narrow minded and too concerned with their pathetic history to..to..

Look up at who was looking down. 

“Pass your verdict, Keeper.”, Fane growled low, the sound warped, primal as crimson danced at the edges of his vision with blackened ribbons. “I have nothing to say to you, to anyone. My voice only matters when you want it to matter. You’re saving face in front of your sheep.” His body began to tremble, fingers twisting into leather and minor cloth to try and ground himself, to control himself. “Too bad you’re just lining them up for slaughter the longer I’m around.” It was a threat, he knew, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care!

Fane finally, finally, found himself turning his gaze away from the wall as those words fell from his lips, something urging him to look at the Keeper, to observe her reaction. He didn’t know why, though. Why should he care how she would react? Maybe he just wanted her to lash out, to prove to him that they were the same? He didn’t know. Just like he didn’t know why she was looking at him calmly, fiercely, and unperturbed as wizened fingers folded themselves over each other on the table, a few drumming a beat he recognized from clan gatherings, but not because he had been directly present before she spoke once again.

And the words had him seeing blood red. Not darkened crimson. Not ruby red like the sweet apple offered by a friendly hand. Blood. Red. Red that had painted his hand, his arm, his face as an equally as bloody body crumpled to the ground like the pathetic trash that it was! Red that had his chest heaving, face twitching with a snarl as rage so potent made his body temperature rise and his hearing go distant, near deaf with distant roars and crackling flames upon heated glass!

“You are becoming more and more like your father with each passing day, da’len.”

***

And just for another tease, here is another snippet from my ModernAU! 

“Easy, Yune.”, Fane soothed, his pointed ears twitching from the sound of his own voice, the tone unusually soft, but not so unusually deep. He reached up with a hand to give the tiny white dragon a stroke, running his knuckles along thin, but sturdy scales. “It’s just the usual aches and pains. I’ll be fine once I get in the shower and get moving.”, he assured, a small smile gracing his features as Yune let out a tiny coo from his touch. “Now, come on. Let’s get our day started. Got a lot on our plates today.” 

That’s right. Today would be a test and one Fane was mildly anxious about and one he knew the board at the University of Ferelden would not be happy about, but it was his lesson plan, his rules, his agenda. He was a draconologist, first, and a professor, second. He didn’t go to school in Nevarra and then Tevinter between the ages of twenty-one to twenty-three to cow every time a fat ass in a suit scowled and wagged their finger at him for breaking the mold. 

He didn’t spend time between the ages of eighteen to twenty just researching on his own, scraping together money and dipping his toes in any and every job that came his way to purchase the necessary supplies, about the functionality of dragons in ancient times and their significance to the world’s ecosystem, and their connection to the Fade to bend to what the masses believed dragons ‘truly’ were, and those fools believed them to be pets, servants, no more than a mabari, but not afforded the same prestige of intelligence. 

He didn’t begrudgingly adhere to the norms of propriety and professionalism in search of the truth that he knew Orlais was hiding from him to bend to them on a fallen knee whilst saying ‘Yes, yes. You’re absolutely right. I’m the fool. How dare I question you?’ 

He didn’t climb the ladder, listen to the disgusting term of ‘prodigy’, to live a life of opulence and complacency like many of the elders in his field did, most abandoning research and knowledge to simply reap the lush fields of others until they were barren, growing full off the wheat of discovery - discoveries like his.   

He didn’t do anything he did with the intent of surrendering, of breaking to placate someone else’s misdirected mind. Dragons were more than pets, and he would see them treated as they were meant to be treated; as equals, people just like the elves, the humans, the dwarves and the Qunari. They held just as much awareness and understanding, if not more, than other races and species. 

There were still mysteries he had to unravel, but again, he would unearth them so the leash on the world would be snapped like a thin thread, weak and transparent. Dragons would be able to do what they were made to do again, no matter the cost. And the only way to do that was to show people what a true dragon was like. So, yes, today’s class would be a test, a test to see for himself if people were willing to break their own leashes, just as he had.

***

Tagging under the cut! (lengthy one this time!)

@oxygenforthewicked @the-dreadful-canine @little-lightning-lavellan @shift-shaping @dreadfutures @noire-pandora @varric-tethras-editor @aymayzing @dungeons-and-dragon-age  @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold and anyone else who’d like to share! Show me the goods! (only if you want to, no pressure! <3)

[jackdawyt]

Today I am breakdown down the entirety of 'The Dread Wolf Take You' short story from Tevinter Nights. I'll be plunging into EVERYTHING spoiler-related revolving this tale, so if you haven't already picked up Tevinter Nights, and you'd like to experience this story for yourself, go buy this book and revisit this later.

As I said in my review for Tevinter Nights, to any Dragon Age fan remotely interested in the future of Dragon Age's narrative. This book is a necessity, and a worthy read, trust me on that, it's all worth it simply for this tale.

However, if you'd rather pass up the book for whatever reason, you're in luck because I am analyzing everything in this short story. Enough of that, we've got a lot to talk about, so let's uncover 'The Dread Wolf Take You!'

This tale began in Hunter Fell, just west of Nevarra City, where a dimly lit and conspicuously quiet building laid, called: The Teahouse. An old, hornless Qunari was stood outside, greeting an elf; that would be known as Charter, who entered the establishment.

She wore travelling clothes with a simple cloak and a few daggers sheathed by her sides. She made her way to the bar and told the Nevarran serving her that she came to meet her friends, a party of five. The bar keep said that the room upstairs was reserved for her guests, and that each of them had already arrived.

Charter ordered an Anderfels, Mint Loose Leaf Tea, and the barman oddly recalled if she'd like two sugars, just like last time, which will have been 10 years ago, and many different aliases. She obliged and made her way upstairs, she entered a very large, dim room with a fireplace surrounding four figures in very over-stuffed chairs.

The first figure was an early-middle aged dwarf with a huge black beard. The Carta Assassin. The second figure was a slender man wearing bright silks and a full faced mask with long blonde locks. The Orlesian Bard. The third figure was a pale woman in dark mage robes with staff resting by her chair. The Mortalitasi. And the final figure was covered head-to-toe in dark Vryantium robes with a thin mesh hood, covered with a stench of the ocean. The Executor.

Each of the figures turned to Charter as she entered the room. The Dwarf Assassin noted that she was late, however, the Mortalitasi chimed in and said that, actually, she's arrived just on time. The Executor, who by the sounds of their voice could be either gender, silenced the room, stating that they are each here because they posses a shared interest in the Wolf.

"The Inquisition's Wolf" - The Dwarf Assassin remarked, as he looked at Charter. The Dwarf continued with is doubt that this Wolf is a God, but merely a very old, very powerful elven mage. The Bard jumped in saying, perhaps he's a very young mage. While the Mortalitasi said that he's a demon impersonating an elf.

Once more, The Executor silenced the room. Whatever he is does not concern them, however, his plan and means of accomplishing it, is something that those beyond the ocean do care for.

This was to be a meeting of the best spies of Thedas in one room to share all information on the Wolf, however, The Tevinter Siccari and The Qunari Ben-Hassrath were missing from this gathering. Charter noted that both groups had declined the invitation. The latter is especially disappointing because they had more knowledge of Solas’s movements than anyone else.

Charter opened the floor by sharing her knowledge on the Wolf. The Inquisition knows little about what Solas intends. Much of his research involves the Veil that separates our world from the world of the spirits. He claimed to have created it, and he asked the Inquisition for help activating artifacts to strengthen the Veil. That seemed a possible place to start.

The Dwarf Assassin spoke up, stating that he's only here because Viscount Tethras called in a few favors, however, he didn’t expect to be the best-informed person in the room. The Assassin began sharing his tale on what he knew about the Wolf.

After Meredith went mad with Red Lyrium in her attempts to destroy all of Kirkwall, and Bianca discovered that the thing had the taint. All operations were shut down, after all, Blight is bad for business. Viscount Tethras kept the quarantine in Kirkwall, where Meredith caused so much damage with her lyrium sword, and turned into a blasted statue. If anyone were to attempt to snag a piece of red lyrium from Meredith's corpse, you'd get quite the beating.

The same beating would happen when a Dalish Elf came around asking if someone can get the lyrium idol out of what’s left of the statue. The Elf believed an old legend of his people which spoke of the idol being in Meredith's statue, and if he gets it out, he can free his gods or something like that.

Before the Carta decided to beat the Elf to death, he pulled up a potion and said it would soften the raw lyrium and weaken its magic for a bit, so they could get to the idol inside safely. The Carta tried the technique on regular lyrium, and it actually worked.

The Elf promised to give the Carta the potion, as it could become quite prosperous, and their own weight in gold if they could recover the idol from Meredith's body. And so the Carta decided to.

They sneaked into the quarantined square where Merry the Mad kept watch forever, A couple of the Carta fell over, shaking and whispering, but most of them kept their heads on straight, as they reached the statue. The song in their heads was getting louder, and one of Carta brothers ran off screaming.

They used the potion on Meredith as she opened up, in the middle of her chest revealed the red lyrium idol. It was not much to look at other than two couples hugging, too thin to be dwarves. As they escaped the area, they made it back to their safe house where rogue Templar guards waited and asked for the idol. The Dalish Elf attacked the guards, but was sent to the floor.

The leader of the former templars said that he wanted the potion that changes lyrium, the Carta said they couldn't give it away because the man who knew how to make the potion was on the floor knocked out. The Templar didn't like that, so he tied up the elf, took the chest, and not long after, another man came by. Tevinter, by his clothes, and something about “House Qintara,” he gave the guards a big bag of gold and took the idol.

The rest of the Templars waited for the downed elf to wake up, so they could learn how to create the potion. They slept for a while, still waiting, until they twitched and mysteriously died. Arrows came through the windows and pinned the remaining guards and Carta, one of the arrows hit the Dalish Elf. He died.

The Dwarf Assassin who was telling the story, hid behind the dead elf's body as figures walked towards him. Elves like he'd never seen before investigated the area, no crap on their faces, fancy armour with one of them having a Ferelden accent. They walked towards the dead Dalish Elf's body as they wished his soul away guided by the Dread Wolf.

The Dwarf Assassin ended his story on the note that The Dread Wolf wants that idol, and he’s not afraid to get his hands bloody to get it. He pitied House Qintara, if Solas finds them, well, he hoped that none of them are deep sleepers.

After the group ordered more beverages, the Executor spoke, saying that House Qintara fell with the city of Ventus. The Qunari may posses the Wolf's idol. Charter chimed in, and said that the Inquisition had agents who were there when Ventus fell, the idol was sold or traded to House Danarius.

The Bard spoke up and said that Solas has his own agents, not to mention, the power to kill those who oppose him as they sleep.

The group argued about the validity of the Dwarf's story, the Mortalitasi believed the Dwarf, and had information that supported where the idol went after it left House Qintara. She began her tale on what she knew about the Wolf.

To her understanding, the Mortalitasi allowed a Tevinter mage to visit and perform a ritual. He came from House Danarius, and spoke of his master who had met some misfortune. He asked for their help, that he might change this world for the better. The Antaam, a splinter faction of the Qunari had enraged across Tevinter, seizing their land for the Qun.

The mage who came had a way to drive back the Antaam: he would perform a ritual with the Mortalitasi, directing the course of the Fade against the Antaam, so that every dream, every demon, every half-interested spirit would urge them back to the north, away from humanity. Their resolve would weaken, their invasion would crumble, and all would go back to the way it should be.

They brought the Vint' mage to one of the ritual chambers, deep in the Grand Necropolis. He had brought slaves with him, and an ancient elven artifact, taken from House Danarius before it fell. When he opened the thick chest marked with the Carta’s protective runes - he revealed an idol crafted from red lyrium, which seemed to show two lovers, or a god mourning her sacrifice, depending upon how it caught your fancy.

Twelve Mortalitasi mages brought forth magic, enhanced it with arcane possessions, and focused it upon the idol the Tevinter mage had placed upon the ground before him. He killed the slaves, withdrawing their blood from the sacrifice.

The Tevinter mage raised the idol before him, and a spike of lyrium sprang from the base of the idol, it was not merely an idol, but a ritual blade. He slashed his own hand, and in a flash, their minds were pulled into the raw chaos of the Fade by the power of his ritual.

The Black City shadowed the sky, and all at once a great booming roar was heard. Before the Tevinter mage could complete his ritual, the Dread Wolf arrived.

It was no elf, no mortal mage. It was a beast unlike any ever seen. Lupine in appearance, but the size of a high dragon, with shaggy spiked hide and six burning eyes like a pride demon, and it came on wings of fire that resolved themselves into a horde of lesser demons as the Dread Wolf landed before them. It spoke:

“YOU MEDDLE PAST YOUR UNDERSTANDING, FOOLISH MORTAL MAGES, AND IN DOING SO, YOU THREATEN ALL CREATION.”

The Wolf snapped open its jaws and took the Tevinter mage in an instant as he screamed in terror. It spoke again:

“YOU USE MY IDOL CARELESSLY TO VANDALIZE THE SEA OF DREAMS. NOW FEEL THE PAIN OF WHAT YOU HAVE CREATED.

At once, the mages were back in the Grand Necropolis caverns, its walls shook and cracked, and then a rift of green light rent the ceiling open above, and the demons that had accompanied the Dread Wolf burst into the world in righteous fury, shining warriors with blades forged from the raw Fade itself, and behind them, dimly visible through the crackling light, the shadow of the beast itself, from whose slavering jaws came the final words, roared not in anger, but with quiet contempt. It spoke one more time:

“FROM THIS MOMENT, SHOULD YOU EVER BIND A SPIRIT, THEN YOUR LIFE IS MINE.”

The mages fought off the demons with their lives, one of the fellow Mortalitasi, a noble’s son, sprinted to the body. He seized the idol— its lyrium blade was gone, retracted or shattered, he flung it into the thick Carta chest that had bound its power before. He ran with it, leaving the rest of the mages to die.

The rift closed and the remaining survivors decided to run too, as they sealed the caravan. They searched for the noble’s son and the stolen idol, but he had fled into Tevinter, and with so much of the Imperium in chaos from the war, it was not safe to give chase.  

The Mortalistisi mage ends the story on the note that whether he is truly the Dread Wolf of elven myth, she cannot say—it is not uncommon for powerful spirits to be worshipped as gods, as the Avvar do. But what ever fear the name of the Dread Wolf carries, he has earned.

And as clear as the Dread Wolf’s anger at what we had done— the Mortalitasi binding spirits he considered his own, the Tevinter mage using forbidden blood magic— was the feeling that we had disrupted his own work. He intends something for the Fade, and if he wants the idol, then what ever he intends will be terrible.

The Orlesian Bard continued to stir his tea, the Assassin looks over at the Executor saying that he's been very happy to listen, but hasn't offered anything to this meeting. Before the Executor could answer, the Bard raised his hands saying I believe I know where the mage carrying the lyrium idol went next. The Bard began his tale on what he knew about the Wolf.

During Orlais's civil war a lot of coin was lost, in the Bard's profession, he often spent time searching for Orlesian treasures sold or bartered. He was recently asked to recover such a treasure, a ring that once belonged to Empress Celene herself. He traced this ring across Thedas to the neutral city of Llomerryn where an auction occurred.

As he walked through the crowds, plenty of Thedas's influential were gathered here. An Avvar augur laughed loudly at a Rivaini pirate captain’s dirty joke. A soberly clad noble from Starkhaven glared at an auburn- haired elf whose dagger- knot gave her away as an agent of the Qunari spies, the Ben- Hassrath. A Warden- Commander spoke with a woman who was robed and masked, but as he passed her, he recognized the voice of Divine Victoria herself.

The Bard learned that the auburn-haired elf was not the only Ben-Hassrath agent present. She was giving information to others, and out of curiosity at what the Qunari, so averse to magic, might want at an auction such as this, he listened.

The words were in the Qunari language, which the Bard knew only triflingly, but he heard her mention the Siccari. Curious, he followed the servant, a forgettable human man, as he left the elf. The Bard followed.

Finally, he found the other Ben-Hassrath, deep beneath the castle, in tunnels that the auctioneer himself probably did not know existed. They waited for the musicians  upstairs to begin playing, and when they did - the Qunari threw a small blade at the pouch and a great door collapsed as they entered.  

In the middle of the room, sitting on a satin pillow that rested upon a stone pedestal wrought with protective runework, was the red lyrium idol. Just as the Qunari entered the room, so did another group.

Tevinter Magisters and a Gollum seized the Qunari, they faced each other, the Qunari shouted that the idol is being searched for by a dangerous mage who styles himself the Dread Wolf. He threatens both our people. Leave, and we will have no quarrel with you to night.

One of the Magisters replied saying he is a mage named Solas, and his ritual has already started to affect the Fade. We cannot risk him acquiring this idol and finishing what he has begun.

As they went to attack, the eluvian sprang to life, and as both sides turned, a figure stepped out. An elf in golden armor with a wolf pelt across his shoulder. He looked at them, and his face was empty of all expression.

As one, the Siccari and the Ben-Hassrath turned to flee, screaming in panic. The elf’s eyes blazed once with glowing light, and every one stopped, petrified by strange and terrible magic. Even the golem was living stone no more, its crystals dead and gray as it froze where it stood.

The elf lifted the red lyrium idol from the pillow where it rested. He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other, but the Bard could not make out the words, for they were elven. Then he turned back to his mirror and stepped through its shimmering border.

A moment later, it was dead and dark again. The idol’s journey is now complete, and it has found its master. He will destroy anyone in his way without regret or hesitation, and what ever he intends, I do not believe we can stop it.

As his story came to an end, the Dwarf Assassin said that’s a good story, but I’d rather hear the truth. The Bard shrieked, I beg your pardon! The Dwarf said he believed he could knife a spy, but tailing a Ben-Hassrath team, no way.

The Mortalitasi added that the Tevinter Siccari are anything but cowards, they would not yield, nor run from an elf walking through a mirror, they would certainly attack.

Charter sighed and said that there are many liars at this  table, some more talented than others. I ask for my life. They began to question each others stories, how did the Templars get to the safe house if it was supposed to be a secret? How did the Mortalitasi not know that a Tevinter mage was going to use blood magic.

Charter was quiet, she took a slow sip of tea, and then she quietly repeated - I ask for my life. She looked at the Bard, explaining how she regretted not seeing Solas for what he was when he served the Inquisition. She will regret it forever, and will never make the same mistake again. She exclaimed.

The Bard asked how can you be certain?

And Charter said by observing several small tells, and three large ones. First, that few Orlesian bards would learn to speak the Qunari tongue but not elven, and fewer of those who do not speak elven would know the elven word eluvian, for the mirrors that let the ancient elves travel from place to place. Second, that the Executor has not moved since you touched his hand while he and the Assassin argued. And third . . . that you never drank your tea.

The Assassin and the Mortalitasi turned.

“I know you hate the taste of tea” Charter said softly. “It was a joke around Skyhold. Why would you order it?”

"Because it was a joke around Skyhold,” the man in the dragon mask. He sounded tired. “I was uncertain this costume would suffice, so I did every thing that the Dread Wolf would not . . .  except, it seems, bring myself to drink the tea.”

His Orlesian accent was gone, replaced by the rolling lilt that was almost Dalish. The man in the mask stood, sighed, and took the staff from the Mortalitasi statue’s hand.

He turned back to Charter and removed the mask, she saw his face again, just as she had seen it for all those months at Haven and Skyhold, never suspecting a thing. An elf, bald—the golden locks had been part of the mask. An oval face with full lips, and a tiny scar on his brow. Pointed ears, previously hidden  under the mask and wig.

“Excellent work on the Executor,” Charter said. “You petrified him, but not his robes.”

“I would caution you in dealing with those across the sea,” he said. “They are dangerous.”

“More dangerous than the elf who threatens the world?” Charter asked, and was rewarded with a twitch of his lips that acknowledged the point. “Why did you come? Why you personally?”

“I wished to know what you all knew,” he said, gesturing at the table. “

There are many of you, and you are not fools. As for me coming in person, the Inquisition was involved.”

He returned to his seat. “Why did you come?”

She shook her head helplessly. “Because you told the Inquisitor that you were going to destroy this world,” she said.

“Did you expect us not to try to stop you?”

He sighed. “It was a moment of weakness. I told myself that it was because you all deserved to know, to live a few years in peace before my ritual was complete. Before this world ended.”

“Then perhaps we are not the only ones you lied to,” Charter said. “You do not have to do this.”

His look pinned her. “I have no choice. What I am  doing  will save this world, and  those like you— the elves who still remain— may even find it better, when it is done.”

Charter considered lying, but then she thought of Tessa, with her quick smile and strong hands. "There are those I care for who would not.”

He smiled sadly. “I know that feeling well. I am not a god, Charter. I am prideful, hotheaded, and foolish, and I am doing what I must. When you report back to the Inquisitor . . .” His voice faltered. “Say that I am sorry.”

He walked away, and Charter remained still until the curtain closed behind him. Then she drank the rest of her tea, her fingers shaking a  little. She looked at the dragon mask on the table. Prideful, hotheaded, foolish. Doing what he must. Sympathetic to elves. Said that he was sorry.

The red lyrium idol was of a crowned figure comforting another. It was not much, but it was more than she had known before, she thought. Pulling a small notebook from one pocket, she began to write her report. After all, the Dread Wolf wasn’t going to stop himself.

Oh my goodness, that was absolutely amazing, in an attempt to gather some final thoughts. I've picked out my hot takes from this entire book, that I'd like to discuss. Following the Dwarf's tale first, we've got quite a few things to breakdown:

Solas has a network of agents working for him, many Dalish Elves believe in his cause, and even the Ancient Elves have been acquired for his schemes.

“And now we know that the Dread Wolf has agents working for him,”

The Dalish Elves following Solas believe that he will free the Elven Gods once he acquires the red lyrium idol, they've created a potion that weakens lyrium's effects.

"He’s learned it from a dream. Some old legend of his people says the idol is in her body, and if he gets it out, he can free his gods or something like that."

The Ancient Elves appear bare-faced; having no vallaslin, they equip themselves with fine gear. Some of them speak like normal Fereldens, while others have a hint of a Dalish accent.

"No crap on their face like the Dalish, and they don’t have that little hunch a city elf has, hoping you don’t notice them. They’ve got fancy armor and bows out, and they case the room like professionals. One of them says that the idol must have been moved, and his accent is your normal Ferelden, not like the Dalish, who always sound like they’re talking through a mouthful of toffee."

Solas's agents are chasing down every single source until they find the red lyrium idol, the idol is required for Solas's next phase of action in his attempts to destroy the veil.

"The Dread Wolf wants that idol, and he’s not afraid to get his hands bloody to get it."

Solas can, and has the ability to kill his rivals in their sleep. He or his group of agents killed Carta Dwarves as they slept, which is deemed impossible because they have no connection to the Fade. However, somehow Solas made the Dwarves dream in order to kill them.

“And that he has the power to kill those who oppose him as they sleep.”

The red lyrium idol has been on the wildest goose-chase across Thedas. It was carved out of Meredith's thawed body, sold to Tevinter's House Qintara, then resold to House Danarius, then taken to Nevvara's Mortalitasi for an ultimate ritual, then taken back to Tevinter. Its current whereabouts are unknown if we understand that Solas's tale within the novel was a lie, meaning that he's still looking for it. Perhaps the Qunari have acquired the idol.

"In the middle of the room, sitting on a satin pillow that rested upon a stone pedestal wrought with protective runework, was the red lyrium idol."

The red lyrium idol, still enigmatic as heck, apparently belongs to Solas, or more aptly the Dread Wolf.

“YOU USE MY IDOL CARELESSLY TO VANDALIZE THE SEA OF DREAMS. NOW FEEL THE PAIN OF WHAT YOU HAVE CREATED.”

It means something personal to Solas, more than just an object of power, he cares for it, at least understand what it is. Two couples hugging? A sacrificial en-carving? A crowned figure comforting another?

"He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other, but I could not make out the words, for I fear they were elven."

Whatever it may be. It belongs to Solas, and he wants it back.

Hence The Dread Wolf Rises teaser title for Dragon Age 4 - Solas has already risen in his Dread Wolf form as malicious and evil as he appears. He is truly haunting and is ready to wreak havoc on Thedas.

"The words battered us like storm winds, and the Dread Wolf’s jaws closed upon the Tevinter mage, snapping him up in an instant as he screamed in terror. The lesser demons rushed down upon us, crackling with fire and lightning and our."

The Dread Wolf has taken residence in the Fade where spirits and demons serve him willingly. If anyone dares bind a spirit to their own will, the Dread Wolf will haunt and kill you, for this is the new law he has declared.  

"As the Avvar do. But whatever fear the name Dread Wolf carries, he has earned. While we might visit the Fade, it is his natural home, and the spirits there serve him gladly. They whisper in my dreams now, accusing me of crimes I never."

Binding Spirits and Blood Mage is forbidden under the Dread Wolf's watch. This magic disturbs the ritual he has set in motion for the Fade.

"And as clear as the Dread Wolf’s anger at what we had done— the Mortalitasi binding spirits he considered his own, the Tevinter mage using forbidden blood magic— was the feeling that we had disrupted his own work."

Solas tells his fake tale of how the Bard had witnessed the Dread Wolf acquire the red lyrium idol, though this may not be true, this is true in his story. For instance, Solas shares a very useful insight regarding the Qunari invasion, stating that the Antamm will crush and capitalize over everything east of Vryantium, and northern Antiva as well.

"You all know that the Antaam invaded without permission of the other branches of Qunari government? We had assumed this would hobble them, but it appears the priests and workers were a moderating influence. Without them, the Antaam have crushed the Tevinter opposition in the east, and I fear everything east of Vyrantium will be under their control within a year, and northern Antiva as well."

Solas, as the Bard in the story, shares prominent, influential faces throughout all of the Dragon Age games, like Isabella, Amund the Avvar, Sebastian, Tallis, The Divine, and a most intriguing Warden Commander. Solas knows about all of our previous characters, he's made himself aware of potential threats which could mean that not many characters will be returning as companions in the next game.

"An Avvar augur laughed loudly at a Rivaini pirate captain’s dirty joke. A soberly clad noble from Starkhaven glared at an auburn- haired elf whose dagger- knot gave her away as an agent of the Qunari spies, the Ben- Hassrath. A Warden- Commander spoke with a  woman who was robed and masked, but as I passed her, I recognized the voice of Divine Victoria herself."

When the Bard is revealed to be the Solas, it's made aware that before the Executor could share their knowledge on the Wolf, Solas spoke first, and killed the Executor.

"Before the Executor could answer, the Bard raised his hands. “I believe I know where the mage carrying the lyrium idol went next. S’il vous plaît, allow me to continue its tale."

He later called the Executors "dangerous", meaning that they pose a threat to Solas, out of everyone in the room, Solas killed the Executor. They must know something or have something that can rival Solas. Therefore they will be a most worthy ally in the future.

“I would caution you in dealing with those across the sea,” he said. “They are dangerous.”

What was mentioned at the start, was that the Qunari Ben-Hassrath know the most about Solas's movements across Thedas, making them a huge rival against the Dread Wolf, and potentially a grand ally for anyone against Solas.

“As did the Ben- Hassrath.” She grimaced. “The latter is especially disappointing. They had more knowledge of Solas’s movements than anyone else.”

And finally, Solas tells Charter to let the Inquisitor know that he's sorry once more, explaining that he is not a God, he's simply a prideful, hotheaded fool who is doing what he must.

"I know that feeling well. I am not a god, Charter.  I am prideful, hotheaded, and foolish, and I am doing what I must. When you report back to the Inquisitor . . .” His voice faltered. “Say that I am sorry.”

That's it for this breakdown on 'The Dread Wolf Take You', there's been so much to uncover and this was just one story in Tevinter Nights. I am working on a separate post/video that will look at everything Tevinter Nights tells us about Solas going forward, so don't worry, the Solas speculation has just begun, I've merely just given you all the facts for now. But there's plenty of tinfoil ahead!

[bornpariah-a]

NECROMANCY is a topic minimally explored in the world of Dragon Age, and only became a true specialization with Inquisition. Notably, many of the spells in the necromancer tree existed in the games prior in the ENTROPY tree, as per Origins and II. What we know of necromancy is that it has a relatively negative reputation overall. It’s only Nevarra that views necromancy in a positive light, calling their necromancers the mortalitasi and giving them a good measure of power and high societal standing. It stands to reason, then, that it’s sensible for the Inquisitor to learn necromancy from one of these mortalitasi.

Never mind that Dorian is literally right there. ( no, i’m not bitter at all, what would have given you that idea? honestly !! )

Nonetheless, what we know of the necromancer specialization route in Inquisition is this : you find a specifically Nevarran skull, bind a recently dead necromancer spirit/soul to it, and it’ll teach you. Alright, not the strangest thing I’ve ever heard of by far, yet I couldn’t help but think that surely magic varies depending on the region. And, furthermore, specializations must carry a different weight. And even beyond that, that the path of specialization must differ between, for example, Nevarra and Tevinter. Thedas is a relatively large place, and though Nevarra and Tevinter are neighboring countries, I couldn’t help but think that there has to be a difference.

And thus : this monster.

Necromancy is, literally, death magic. In Dragon Age, it pertains specifically to the utilization of spirits and, furthermore, spirits drawn to death. That is one of the key points to necromancy as a whole, and heavily influences the following.

In the Imperium, magical specializations and the furthermore ability to specialize are seen, somewhat, as a status symbol. Being powerful enough in one subject to be able to master it, for all intents and purposes. The concept that specializations are almost like guilds, cohorts of mages who come together for a common purpose/reason/goal and henceforth have certain sets of skills that can be utilized in order to accomplish jobs and whatnot, isn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. In a society as mage-heavy and magically inclined as Tevinter, that seems to be the only possibility, given that Circles are learning institutions and jobs requiring magic must exist.

But I digress, as that’s more a topic to delve into another time, but it’s essential to understand this : Dorian was marked by Death and chose to walk the path of the necromancer ( ha ) in part because of that. Specializing in necromancy is a difficult choice to undertake, and very few mages are able to truly complete such a path, and in fact must have a predilection for death on some metaphysical level. Furthermore, specializing in much of anything in Tevinter requires something like a benefactor, similar to what Alexius acted as for Dorian. That’s the first step. To be chosen, quite literally.

Dorian was chosen by a mage named Melinoe. A skilled necromancer in her own right, and the informal ( or perhaps formal ) head necromancer in Tevinter. The story of their relationship spans many years, beginning when they first crossed paths when Dorian was six years old and visiting Minrathous with his father for official business. They, quite literally, crossed paths on some random street between some random buildings and Melinoe sensed about him an incredible aura of Death. Something that drew her notice, and thus the notice of necromancers in Tevinter.

The process of a mage choosing their specialization or, I suppose, their specialization choosing the mage in a great deal of the cases is one frankly akin to courting. Mages attend Circles to gain their magical education as Dorian did ( running amok through every Circle in Tevinter, as well all know ) and there are a great deal of events surrounding mages coming into their magic. Some are strictly high society, the ones that Dorian partook in, naturally. Others are far more akin to parlours, public forums that allowed mages to find mentors, meet with others, and generally networking. Through these opportunities is the chance to prove your potential for a certain specialization, if a mage chooses to do so.

Now, Dorian’s only offer ( so to speak ) wasn’t just the necromancer specialization given the fact that he is a mage of prodigious skill, and therefore had generally vast potential. That being said, none of them particularly caught him at first. Not even necromancy.

Dorian didn’t choose his specialization until he was nineteen, in the care of the Alexius family, and had found Melinoe again. Or rather, she had found him.

The path of specializing in necromancy in the Imperium is a well kept secret, as is most specialization in general, passed from necromancer to necromancer. It is very much a process and a ritual, and an arduous one at that. First you must be chosen, and then you must choose to walk the path. Dorian decided to out of curiosity and because of the draw that he felt towards it ——— and the challenged that laid within. Necromancy is death magic, something that seems unnatural and fearsome to the living, and difficult to master besides. Dorian, an arrogant young man at the best of times, wished to best it, in some ways.

Once a mage decides to walk the path of the necromancer, which is a very spirit heavy specialization ( akin to spirit healers, in some ways ) they must prove themselves further. Not to their peers nor their mentor, no. To death spirits, themselves. Spirits of death. Spirits drawn to death. And so on and so forth.

as a mild aside, spirits drawn to death naturally are as follows : spirits of death, spirits of fear, spirits of peace, spirits of faith, and, of course, terror demons.

This process is one underwent by inscribing glyphs onto a mage’s body, with variable locations. Dorian chose the back of his neck, but it tends to vary depending on the mage. This marking includes some ancient sigils, as well as the words non mortem timemus, nascentes morimur in Ancient Tevene. The words translate to we do not fear death, for from the moment we are born, we begin to die. Morbid, certainly, but it gets the point across.

The glyphs are drawn into the skin with ink and there is a potion ingested that is called e morte vita. From life, death. This potion is created from blood lotus, prophet’s laurel, and death root. The candidate has this glyph drawn into their skin and ingests the potion, which puts them in a state suspended between life and death ——— all in the hopes of drawing a death spirit to them. A spirit will choose them if they have enough potential, quite frankly, and if the mage succeeds the glyph becomes etched into their skin and they awaken with a faint connection to a spirit of death. Or a spirit drawn to death, perhaps.

Dorian underwent this process, and when he drank the potion he awoke very soon after. Far faster than most who go through this process, but the side effect was a state of dissociation where he was neither in the Fade nor on the proper side of the Veil, and he remained that way for a short period of time. The spirit who chose him was not Death ( as Death is not a spirit, per say, but that’s another subject for another time ) but was a very powerful spirit of death who had been drawn to him for a great deal of time.

Following attracting a spirit to your person, aka convincing it somehow that a mage may be worthy to learn death magic wholly, there is something of a quest that is underwent. This is a quest done only by the mage wishing to become a necromancer, and is led by the spirit who they have forged a connection with. Naturally, this means that the mage only gets directions in their sleep. You can see how frustrating that may be. Nonetheless !! This quest can take a mage anywhere, quite frankly. To any corner of Thedas, over any ocean, etc. It’s entirely directed by the spirit, and brings the mage to a grave, or a crypt, or a tomb, or something of that nature, wherein they will dig / generally defile the sight at the behest of the spirit, to obtain the bones of someone deceased.

It’s unknown if this corpse had been the spirit, while they were alive, or had any particular significance. This is a mystery to all necromancers, and something hotly debated in the Imperial school ( so to speak ) of necromancy. Nonetheless, this is a journey undertaken by all necromancers-to-be.

Dorian’s spirit took him to the far corner of Rivain, entirely over land, a long and winding journey that was incredibly frustrating to him. It culminated in him finding a long forgotten tomb that had been constructed, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere and was unmarked, for all that it seemed to radiate old magic. Not ancient magic, mind you, but magic that was several Ages old, at least. Upon unearthing and opening the stone entrance to the tomb, he found a singular corpse, nearly all bone by this point in time. The logistics behind which were, theoretically, impossible lest there was magic involved. And thus, he took these bones, and returned to Minrathous. By ship, this time, thank you.

The next step in this path is the creation of a necromancer’s staff. The lore that I have behind staffs and magic in the Dragon Age universe is something for another time, but this magic is meant to be a conduit for death magic specifically, and it’s created via an ancient ritual that involves the femur of the bones taken from the grave site chosen, carved to form the primary hand-grip of the staff. It also involves rune inscribed leather, with death runes specifically, fade touched cloth, phoenix scales, to symbolize and empower the cyclical and natural nature of death and the use thereof, and veil quartz, to act as the primary conduit of magic at the head of the staff.

Once the staff is created, the spirit that has a tenuous connection with the soon-to-be necromancer trainee must be bound to it in a process that both parties are aware of, agree to, and utilizes the remaining ground bones of the body taken, and the mage’s blood. Not much, just a little bit of it, but this is a process that can occasionally go wrong and cause ABOMINATIONS to be formed. Dorian, at this age, saw no problem in minor blood magic, given the status of it in Tevinter and his spirit of rebellion, so to speak.

The binding ritual, for Dorian, was more complicated than he thought it would be, what with his youthful arrogance. The spirit had chosen him and agreed to it, but the stipulation was something along the lines of total equality to him, and while he had seen spirits be bound before, and had taken part during his times as a reckless and wild idiot, frankly, in the Circles, this was an entirely different process altogether. Gaining the notice and almost ( though not quite ) trust required for such a thing from a spirit is difficult ——— this is, in fact, where many people fail, if not at the first engraving to garner the notice of a spirit, to begin with. Dorian succeeded, in the end, and through that gained the understanding of the true will of spirits. Or the extent to their will, that is.

Nonetheless : the spirit is bound, and the creation of the staff is finished, and that mage walks the path of the necromancer from there on. The mentor, who often chooses the inductee, begins training the person properly, with heavy emphasis on the funerary and otherwise traditions that Imperial necromancers tend to take part in.

More on that in another headcanon, I think. This one is... far too long.

[maudus1]

Hi, I wanted to get your thoughts on a theory I heard that since Andraste was born around the same time the first Archdemon died she may have been an Old god soul baby like (potentially) Kieran. Another Theory, is the possibility that a protagonist of an eventual Dragon Age game could turn out to be Andrate's descendant.

Hi, anon! This is going to get very long so I’ll put my response under the cut.

Andraste and the Old God Theory

I have seen a few threads on Reddit, like here and here, about this.

The geography factor alone makes it questionable since upon Dumat’s death he would have searched for the nearest available tainted vessel and Andraste was born in Denerim. 

According to Riordan, upon an Archdemon’s death, it’s soul will go on to possess the nearest darkspawn. This is why a Warden must be the one to strike the final blow - drawing the Archdemon’s essence into themselves and thus killing them both. Morrigan also tells the Warden that for the Dark Ritual, the baby must be conceived with a Grey Warden, or at the least, someone “recently tainted” by darkspawn blood. You can find more on the ritual here.

We have nothing in canon to support Andraste’s father, Elderath, being a Warden, or having the taint. And even if he did have it, and Elderath’s mysterious mistress, the “unnamed advisory on matters of alchemy” was a mage, would their daughter Halliserre not then have been the more likely vessel than Andraste, borne of his wife Brona? 

It is interesting that the way Andraste’s trances and visions are described seems reminiscent of Kieran’s dreams. And Halliserre’s death, and its impact on Andraste, are notable. But all of it is still so speculative and circumstantial that I’m not entirely comfortable saying anything conclusive one way or the other. 

A fascinating theory to ponder, though!

Andraste’s Descendants 

According to The Children of Andraste Codex entry, 

We all know Andraste and the Betrayer raised five children. The eldest three were sons: Isorath, Evrion, and Verald. The rule of what was once southern Tevinter was split among them. Isorath was given the west, what is today Orlais. Evrion was given the east, what is today the Free Marches. Verald was given the central Planasene, what is today Nevarra. What became of these men and their legacies is the stuff of legend, and the majority of claimants to Andraste's bloodline link back to one of them. None of the three sons, however, were born of Andraste. They were born of the Betrayer's concubine, Gilivhan. People choose to overlook the fact that Andraste came from the Alamarri tribesmen and that they were barbarians, not the Fereldans we know today. They were savage warriors who took concubines in addition to their wives, and because Andraste was thought to be too weak to bear children, the Betrayer took Gilivhan to provide him heirs. Which she did. After her death, the sons were raised as Andraste's own.

Later in life, Andraste proved predictions wrong and had two daughters by the Betrayer: Ebris and Vivial. They were kept out of the public eye and not permitted to marry, though both had consorts. Ebris had but one child, Alli Vemar, who perished on a voyage to Denerim—less than a month after her mother fell to plague, and without children of her own. The younger daughter, Vivial, was more controversial: a strong-headed woman who defied her family by falling in love with a mage of Tevinter, Regulan. Vivial and Regulan went into self-imposed exile as the Exalted March began, and into hiding following Andraste's betrayal and murder.

What became of Vivial and her descendants is largely unknown for one primary reason: she had only daughters. Each of those daughters only had daughters. They married into other families and took other names, and in the chaos of the Second Blight, all traces of survivors were lost. Andraste's true bloodline, if it exists, lies solely in the descendants of Vivial, and the suspicion of my order is that it produces only daughters. Thus the claims of your young man, monsieurs, are highly suspect.

—From a letter by Sister Galenna of the Augustan Order, Dragon 9:12

And from the Dragon Age Wiki article on Andraste,

It is unknown if any of her descendants still live, as all of her scions were born female, and thus they took their husbands' names in marriage. There have been many claimants in the centuries since, saying that they were related to Andraste, but the Chantry has disavowed each of them. To date there are no known legitimate heirs to Andraste's blood.

So while there is a slight possibility that Andraste’s daughter, Vivial, could provide us with a present-day descendant in a future game, I find it a bit unlikely. If only because, well, what purpose would it serve? Andraste was a prophet, but she was also a mortal woman. 

Unless we go by the “Andraste was Mythal” theory, wherein the mortal body of Andraste was possessed by Mythal much the way Flemeth was. Flemeth had many daughters while possessed, and used them to essentially body-hop and prolong her life. Perhaps she could have used Andraste’s female descendants in the same way (and it is worth noting that Vivial’s children and grandchildren were all female!).

We know from Dragon Age 2, and the quest with the amulet, that Mythal was able to split herself into multiple pieces (similar to a Horcrux) so that even if her physical body was destroyed, her spirit would remain intact and she could recover. This could prove useful if we theorize that she did the same thing before Fen’harel/Solas “kills” Flemeth in Trespasser. 

So perhaps he absorbed only a fragment of her spirit/power, but did not destroy her entirely. She could still potentially resurrect in another body or form, but just be weakened. Then she may need to take back her power from Fen’harel in the fourth game. 

Overall, these are very thought-provoking and there are so many implications for DA4 with both theories. Perhaps some of my mutuals and followers will have more to add. Thanks so much for the ask, this was really fun to research and discuss! I hope you have a lovely day! ^_^

[dragonageloree]

Thedas

Type -  Continent  Location -  World Appearances -  Dragon Age

Thedas is a continent in the southern hemisphere[1], and the only known continent of the Dragon Age universe, upon which all of the Dragon Age games are set. It is presumed that there are other continents, as the Qunari do not originally come from Thedas but from an unknown land across the Northern Ocean. According to some sources, humans also came from the north.[2]

The word "Thedas" originates from Tevene, once referring to all lands beyond the Imperium and eventually, it came to encompass the entire continent.[3][4] A native of Thedas is referred to as a Thedosian. South of the continent's Korcari Wilds lies the mysterious Sunless Lands.[5]

Geography

High resolution map of Thedas (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Surface

Anderfels — a kingdom in northwestern Thedas

Antiva — a kingdom in eastern Thedas

Elvhenan — the ancient elven kingdom

Estwatch — an island stronghold

Ferelden — a kingdom in southeastern Thedas

Free Marches — a confederation of city-states in eastern Thedas

Nevarra — a kingdom in central Thedas

Orlais — an empire in southwestern Thedas

Par Vollen — an island in northeastern Thedas controlled by the Qunari

Rivain — a kingdom in northeastern Thedas

Seheron — an island in northern Thedas

Tevinter Imperium — a country in northern Thedas

Oceans and seas

Amaranthine Ocean — in the east

Boeric Ocean — in the north, surrounding Par Vollen and the Seheron archipelago

Buried Sea — located in the Uncharted Abyss beneath the Deep Roads accessible via the Bastion of the Pure

Colean Sea — between the Anderfels and Seheron

The Frozen Seas — southeast of Ferelden

Nocen Sea — north of Tevinter Imperium, including the Ventosus Straits

Sundered Sea — on the southwestern edge of Orlais

Venefication Sea — between Rivain and Par Vollen, including the Northern Passage leading to the Amaranthine Ocean

Volca Sea — west of the Anderfels

Waking Sea — between Ferelden, Orlais, and the Free Marches

Lakes

Lake Calenhad — in Ferelden, also the largest in Thedas

Lake Celestine — in the Heartlands of Orlais

Lake Luthias — a small lake south of Lake Calenhad

The Sulfur Lakes — south of Orlais

Mountains

Arl Dumat — a volcano between the Hunterhorn Mountains and Gamordan Peaks

Mount Daverus[6]

Frostback Mountains — separating Ferelden from Orlais

Gamordan Peaks — in southwestern Orlais

Hunterhorn Mountains — in western Orlais and between Orlais and the Anderfels

Vimmark Mountains — in the southern Free Marches

The White Spire — in Antiva

Unnamed mountain range in the Tevinter Imperium's east

Unnamed mountain range in eastern Rivain

Forests

Arbor Wilds — in southern Orlais

Arlathan Forest — in the Tevinter Imperium's far east

Brecilian Forest — in eastern Ferelden

The Donarks — a jungle north of the Anderfels

Korcari Wilds — in southern Ferelden

Planasene Forest — in the southwestern Free Marches

The Tirashan — in western Orlais

Underground

The Deep Roads span the length and breadth of Thedas which connect the countless thaigs of the dwarven empire. However after the empire's decline the last four major kingdoms of the dwarves are the following, though only two are still inhabited:

Gundaar (lost)

Hormak (lost)

Kal-Sharok — located deep beneath the Hunterhorn Mountains (inhabited)

Orzammar — located beneath the Frostback Mountains (inhabited)

Beyond Thedas

Few details are available concerning the lands that lie beyond the boundaries of Thedas.

Beyond the Korcari Wilds and Arbor Wilds to the south there is a frozen wasteland called the Sunless Lands that only the Chasind Wilders have explored.

There is land to the west of Thedas, although the Hunterhorn Mountains inhibit travel, as do the jungles of the Donarks in the northwest. The Tevinter call these lands the 'Viridis' - "The Green", and have rumors of wingless dragons and flying chimeras inhabiting the jungles.

Until the early Black Age, the Ander city of Laysh traded with ships that came across the Volca Sea. The travelers who according to Ander legend are named 'Voshai', had an excessive interest in lyrium. Tevinter expeditions to reach the homeland of the Voshai had failed with no ship ever coming back. In recent times, however, rumors have risen that the Voshai ships have returned, bringing with them tales of a 'massive cataclysm'.[7]

There are numerous islands in the Boeric Ocean. Some are havens for pirates, others are colonies of Tevinter or the Qunari, but others have indigenous populations. The most famous of these is the near-mythical Par Ladi. The Parladians are rumored to have the best coastal defenses in Thedas, practice arts similar to the Rivaini seeresses and to be bedecked in gold and jewels.[8]

The Qunari originate from a land far to the east, beyond the Northern Ocean.

The Executors claim to act "on behalf of powers across the sea", presumably entities which reside in lands beyond the Amaranthine and Boeric Oceans.

The land beyond the Amaranthine Ocean is referred in myths as the 'Amaranth'. Amaranth is said to be devoid of any sentient species and all thedosian attempt of colonization have failed. Legends tell that later expeditions found former settlements empty and that the only survivor was driven mad by something and killed himself a short time after being discovered.[7]

Leliana mentions that as of 9:41 Dragon, the Hero of Ferelden is traveling deep into the west to lands that have supposedly never known a Blight.

Notes

Thedas has two moons, the secondary moon being named Satina (from whence the holiday of Satinalia gets its name).

The presence of colder lands to the south would suggest that Thedas is located on the southern hemisphere of the planet.

According to David Gaider, there is no individual name for the planet where Thedas exists, as most Thedosians consider Thedas "the entire world".[9]

Time-telling in Thedas is an inexact science. Dwarven clocks are thus uncommon but notable.[10]

Trivia

The name "Thedas" is an acronym. It stands for "THE" "D"ragon "A"ge "S"etting.

[pathcrier]

OC as a child

Rhona Trevelyan ft momma Trevelyan I was tagged by @heraldofwho thank you bunches!!!

1. Who named them/ significance of their name? Rhona’s father, Elwyn is the one who actually named her. It means blessed and holy. Fitting, right? Rhona’s family is heavily involved with the Chantry and her parents have named their other 3 children blessed names- so they felt it only suiting.

2. The home they grew up in? Rhona’s family owned 2 estates, one in Ostwick and one in Nevarra. The stayed in the Free Marches estate for most of the year, often spending the summers in Nevarra to visit her mother’s family. Being her mother was born and raised in Cumberland. Their estate to which they lived in the most was glorious and very well decorated, it included 12 bedrooms, a parlor with a view of the countryside, and a very large and well stocked library which Rhona spent much of her time in before the Circle. Once her magic manifested she made her home in the Ostwick Circle, but once she gained control of her magic and passed her Harrowing- she was able to leave as she pleases. Which she always ended up home for months at a time before returning once more to the Circle. She didn’t actually start spending time at home again until her early twenties, upon returning from Ferelden and Kirkwall in fact.

3. Relationship with parents? Rhona had a tight-knit family but was the closest with her father, being the baby she was his little princess. They were seen everywhere together, she would sneak into his salons and was the center of attention. He completely doted on her and loved her endlessly, she got her love for reading from him. He is the one who taught her to read and it became their favorite pastime together. Her mother loved her just as much but was much more stern, she wanted her children to be completely well cultured. Which meant constant tutoring and  responsibilities. Despite Rhona being sent to the Circle at such a young age, both her parents made sure she was living comfortably and contently. Giving their status, she was able to move back home once she passed her Harrowing- her mother made sure she had the best tutor. When they heard their baby girl was off fighting the Blight in Ferelden her mother quite literally became ill because of the anxiety. She didn’t actually recover fully until the Viscount of Kirkwall sent word to Elwyn and Fianna Trevelyan that their daughter was safe as can be in Kirkwall. After the Qunari attack on the city, Rhona escaped the fighting and made her way back to Ostwick and lived the next 3 years at home and working with young apprentices at the Circle. Rekindling her relationship with her parents and helping out more with the estate affairs. 

4. Three words that describe them as a child? Spritely, mischievous, and fiery. She was honestly a very devious child, her and her closest sibling, Asher, spent many evenings planning heists on the kitchen in order to obtain sweets after bedtime- giving their nanny the hardest time; she blamed Rhona’s troublesome behavior for her aging early.

5. Childhood friend(s)? Her closest friend was her older brother, Asher, who was 2 years older than herself. They got into all sorts of trouble together, from kitchen heists, to mud pies thrown at the stable hands. They were joined at the hip and wherever one went, the other was quite literally on their heels. Outside of her family, her childhood best friend was her neighbor, a girl her age named, Lucille. Her family were constant guests of her family’s salons and she was just as rambunctious as Rhona. They spent hours in the estate’s gardens, playing mostly hide and seek. They lost touch once Rhona’s magic manifested, Lucille’s parents didn’t want their daughter involved with a mage.

6. Favorite toy?  Rhona’s grandmother made her a crochet dragon, being those were the center of her fascination. His name was Bufkin and Rhona didn’t go anywhere without him. She brought him with her when she had to move to the Circle and it never left her sight. Once she left for Ferelden though she left it behind and the Knight-Enchanter sent it back to her family for safe keeping. It had a special place on her night stand and even well into her early twenties it was a source of her comfort. When her parents found out she was the leader of the Inquisition, they went out of their way to package it and send it to Skyhold- in hopes that it will once more give her comfort in those trying times.

7. Any childhood traumas? Rhona’s only traumatic event was the night her magic manifested, she was having a fit of night terrors once more and this time when she awoke her bed’s canopy was set ablaze. As she was only a wee 6 year old, waking up to find her bed was on fire after having vivid nightmares was just the most horrific thing to her little mind.

8. Hobbies? She spent hours grazing her library’s selection, namely at tomes about dragons- which her mother brought home the last time she was in Nevarra. Since she was able to read alone in confidence since the age of 3, she had a vast knowledge of dragons and wyverns stored in her brain. She could easily tell you anything and everything you would like to know about those giant lizards. When she wasn’t reading in the library she just liked to simply explore the estate grounds with her older sister, Gwyneth. 

9. Childhood fears? One word- possession. She was honestly never sure she would be able to resist demons, she didn’t believe she had a strong willpower. So her first few years at the Circle were spent being extra cautious and vigilant, especially when she was asleep. She learned quickly on to not trust anyone but herself in the Fade. But the thought of being possessed still scared the life out of her.

10. Quirks? While she was still learning to control her magic, whenever she would sneeze something nearby would be set on fire- once was another apprentice’s robes. For the longest time the other apprentices would clear the room when she was on the edge of a sneeze.  She snorts when she laughs, all the time. She used to think it was the ugliest thing until she met Cullen. Who said her laugh the most pure thing to him and made her...well her.

I am going to tag @quizzikemen, @vilemie, @learielle, @vivalaegghead, @dickeybbqpit, @antivancorvo, @i-nq

[dagm-graniel]

Dragon Age Tabletop Continuation

Because there’s been some demand, I’ll be posting recaps of the Dragon Age Tabletop story that my friends and I have been RPing for the better part of two years. These are heavily glossed over but with the help of my players we may also post more detailed retellings of certain critical scenes from the game. I’ll be doing these by location because it’s been two full years of weekly 4+ hour sessions

(All of the campaign takes place three years past Trespasser and as such there will be spoilers for the full series).

Chapter 1: Kirkwall

Three years after the incorporation of the Inquisition into the Chantry, the Grand Tourney was reinstated on a warm fall day in Kirkwall. Under the watchful eye of Varric Tethras, the new Viscount, the city agreed to host the Tourney as a show of strength and stability. Warriors and observers throughout the land gathers, from kings to kingmakers and peasants alike. The Dalish, The College of Mages, The Inquisition, and even the Grey Wardens sent representatives to make a show of unity at the end of the troubled days of Blight and rebellion now past. The Tourney would, for the first time, bring a promise of nonlethality thanks to Grand Enchanter Fiona and her college warding the grounds that were once where Kirkwall’s grim Gallows stood.

It was at the last minute of the tournament’s registration period that Damien Kinton, newly minted Warden Commander of the Free Marches, found himself without a team to represent himself and his Wardens in the group melee. His top trainee, a city elf mute named Harel, was supposed to report back to him an hour before. (Katari: He was busy begging me for half my lunch.) Instead of getting impatient, he goes to the Hanged Man for a drink. He drinks alone there for a while, inching ever closer to the end of the tourney’s registration period.

On his third or fourth tankard, a group makes a ruckus coming through the Hanged Man’s door. At their head, Kinton sees a slight elf he recognizes as Harel. The boy elf is already on the shorter side but is completely dwarfed by one of his current companions; he wears a tattered poncho over warden armor as something of a trademark. Harel has a habit of playing the beggar around others, finding some odd humor in it. Immediately behind him is a mountain of a man. The crowd in the bar eyes him suspiciously as he enters, as he has the unmistakable grey skin and horns of a Qunari. Something like a walking armory, he barely fits through the human sized door of the tavern. Chatting gruffly with the qunari warrior is a diminutive, red bearded fellow in heavy armor; a dwarf obviously long accustomed to both battle and the surface from the telltale signs of wear on his armor and body. Following them slightly uncomfortably is a masked man in extremely fine, fashionable clothing. He is a gaudy standout compared to the crowd frequenting the Hanged Man, an Orlesian obviously far from home for the Tourney. The last to enter is a man in perfectly normal clothes. There is only a single sign that he might be anything other than a normal citizen of Kirkwall, and that is the long, singular piece of wood strapped across his back. If you had asked him, he would have likely claimed it to be a bow out of habit. However, to anyone in the bar, especially someone like Damien, it was clear this man was a mage.

The entire group was reluctant to introduce themselves, having been brought here under chalkboard scrawled coercion by the mute elf. With the wardens so drastically understaffed throughout the continent, Kinton would explain, the recently instated First Warden ordered him to find recruits. Further, he was given explicit orders to conscript whoever he deem worthy, putting the group to an obvious threat. The way out was clearly stated: If the group fought for him in the melee, he would conscript the people they lost to and ask nothing more of them. If they won, which he considered to be unlikely, they would be free to go. Under these obvious constraints, the four agreed to work together.

The Qunari introduced himself as The Katari and the dwarf as Oswulf Tevis. Both of them had been members of the same mercenary company, the Black Wyverns, during the Fifth Blight and had served together in the Emprise du Lion during the Inquisition’s conflict with Corypheus. They were the only ones of the group to know each other prior, and clearly shared a strong bond. The Orlesian introduced himself as the lordling of some house no one had heard of, Dalfelic Vertilius. The mage only gave his first name, Khallum, and mentioned that he had lived in Kirkwall his entire life. Kinton listed off his credentials and formally introduced Harel and the group. All involved made their way to the Gallows.

Once at the tournament grounds, Kinton bowed out to attempt to find the First Warden, a former Denerim elf named Ciaran Tabris, in the crowd of visiting former dignitaries. With Harel as a lead the group was left to fend for themselves through the process of registration. It was around this time that the entirety of the Dalish delegation left the grounds with only a few warriors and a Keeper’s apprentice left behind trying to persuade their comrades to return. The apprentice, for her part, was more shouting at them and calling them cowards for choosing not to participate. Harel offered, once she had calmed down some, a place for her on the Warden’s delegation. She had a crop of white hair atop her head and a perpetual scowl, but she introduced herself fast enough as Revelas. Surprising everyone, including themselves, the party as a whole were one of the only teams to survive their rounds of the melee. Even more surprising, the entire group made it into paired rounds and then later into individual fights. Eventually, the open entry division of the tourney came down to the semifinal round. The fights were between Katari and Khallum, and two elves. One was a mage who had won every previous round without moving from his initial spot, named Ryein, and the other was an unexpectedly capable hooded figure going by Stabbs McGee.   The fight between Katari and Khallum went surprisingly even for the longest time, with Khallum the healer keeping his wounds healed while attempting to blast Katari at a distance with arcane lances. The two continued duelling for a while before Katari was able to close the distance completely and deal a stunning chest blow with his maul. Khallum was knocked unconcious and into the wall of the arena, and Katari was deemed the victor. Meanwhile, the fight between Ryein and the unfortunately named “Stabbs” was considered to be a no contest, as before the fight King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden stepped in after he recognized “Stabbs” was First Warden Tabris himself, banned from the Grand Tourney due to the risk of potential assassination attempts. His disqualification left the final round of the open division left to Ryein and Katari. This fight lasted only a few seconds, as the other mage almost killed Katari with two layered force cages compressing his body inward. Ryein was considered the winner of the Tourney that year and was offered the chance to fight the winner of the invitational melee, The Iron Bull of the Chargers. The fight with The Iron Bull was the most competitive any had yet seen from this elven man, with Ryein’s arm being severely injured by The Bull before he stepped back and withdrew a bizarre orb from his robes. The orb seemed to hang in the air for a moment and glow before a jet of fire shot out from it directly and physically impacted The Iron Bull. A scorched hole bore its way through his sternum and he was thrust against the arena wall. As people rushed to help, the elf blasted the medics away and proclaimed himself to be Elgar’nan, Elvhen god of the sun. Making a dangerous lightshow, he pronounced himself to the crowd to be a servant of Fen’harel and a harbinger of a new, final blight. He ominously gave a deadline of Saturnalia for the world to prepare, and panic broke loose in the stadium as he vanished in a flash of fire, burning the vallasin of Elgarnan in the arena floor as he left. Damien reappeared and brought the party to a secluded spot after some of the panic had settled down. At the spot, several of the most powerful people in Thedas had gathered. The First Warden and King Alistair were having a heated argument about the validity of the apparent god’s claims but both agreed that the show of force was worth paying attention to. The former Inquisitor Lavellan voiced concerns about the servants of Fen’harel and the plotting of the Evanuris. Once the disagreements were done, the First Warden, Varric, and Lavellan sat alone with the party in the room. All were impressed by their showing in the Tourney and extended a request to the party: Join the wardens and gather allies to the north. Most of the northern countries needed to be informed of the danger and the conflicts with Corypheus and between the southern wardens and Weisshaupt left the order severely understaffed for a Blight (much less the blight to end all blights). The party did not take exceptionally long to agree to join with the Wardens and upon doing so they were given marching orders to rendezvous with Lord Seeker Pentaghast and travel to Cumberland and then Nevarra for recruitment purposes. Kinton agreed to escort the group at least as far as the edge of the Vimmarks and gave the party thirty-six hours to meet himself, the Lord Seeker, and a representative of the college at the city’s east gate. The party members each chose to spend their time in different ways. All gathered supplies needed before they left, but other than that they splintered off. Oswulf and Katari chose to get plastered for most of their prep time with Harel at the Rose. Dalfelic begrudgingly joined them. Khallum and Revelas, lacking the desire to participate at the Rose and not having anything else to do, visited Khallum’s parents. The two Kirkwall natives were concerned to hear the story the two party members had to tell, but were clearly proud at the responsibility their son was taking on. They presented the two with a gift basket of supplies from the family shop. As the thirty-six hours drew to a close, the party reconvened at the city gates, where they were greeted by a hooded mage, Cassandra Pentaghast, and Viscount Tethras. The viscount granted boons to each of the party members in the form of enchanted arms. While the mage remained quiet, the Seeker introduced herself to each of her new travelling companions and they departed along the short highway to the Vimmark Mountains.

[fentelam]

I keep thinking about where Solas would fit into my Modern Thedas AU and I think after talking with Mimi and what I’ve talked with Senka about I have a pretty solid base for what the timeline is going to be overall ( which should most likely be on Varric’s blog but lmao i had to name eight ages ). 

so a couple of things about the Atomic Age AU --- ( a lot of this is overall history since Solas ends up having a historical degree )

one. The Dragon Age saw to the inquisition, but Solas remained in limbo for ages after. The Inquisition was reborn with Justinia V at the helm, without the threat of Corypheus looming over them. The Divine Conclave was critically panned on both sides. The mages felt there was little retribution while the Templars regained their position within the chantry walls. Justinia V did make amends that would later be looked back fondly on by mage historians, for she was the first divine to make the circles non-compulsory for those who completed their harrowing, which lead to a backlash from Templars and those critical of mage freedoms. It was the first step in ages for equality for mages, yet did little in ushering in any laws on rights within the largest nations in Thedas. Ferelden would be the first to offer laws protecting mages, in 10:18 Gilded, It specifically for mages who to live outside the Chantry after completing their education and passing their Harrowing, many critics cited it as the first step of a downfall for Ferelden. Antiva and Nevarra would follow with similar laws in 10:23 and 10:44 respectively. The Free Marches would begin convening as the United States of the Free Marches and would pass a bill with different wording, protecting mages of any kind in 10:50 Gilded due to their high population of Dalish Clans. The rest of the world would soon follow with similar protections. 

two. The Divine Conclave of 10:31 Gilded began the first talks for equality for elves. It would take until 12:32 Reconstruction for true equality for most elves in the nation of Orlais. The Free Marches elected equal rights for mages and protected lands for Dalish clans in 11:23 Steam allowing them to become part of the United States of the Free Marches while still allowing them to maintain their internal hierarchy and autonomy. 

three. Orlais lagged behind in protections for mages, for good and bad reasons. Orlais had a strong sense of tradition and held onto many of their old ways -- yet the blame was not entirely on the shoulders of the Orlesian people, for many people were more accepting than the government, the Chantry simply lagged behind. After the death of Divine Justinia V in 9:78 Dragon ( at her Summer House near Val Chevin ). The Grand Clerics travelled to Val Royeaux to elect a new Divine in the Grand Consensus. It took two weeks to elect a new Divine who was much more conservative than Justinia V, and reiterated that Magic was the corruption of their world and that the Maker did not look fondly upon it, causing a power struggle within Orlais ( between the Imperial Family and the Divine Chantry ). It was not until 12:32 Reconstruction after a war between Ferelden and Orlais did the Imperial Family and the Court of Orlais begin talks about equal rights for all peoples of Orlais, including Mages and Elves.

four. Between the ages of Steam and Discovery, there was a decrease in mage births, and many nations discussed for years about discontinuing the costly Circle Programmes. While the Chantry helped fund these programmes, in the Machine Age -- the role of the Chantry shifted and Templars retreated solely to Chantry grounds and were no longer as present in the Nation’s militaries or cities. The Templars would remain in the Chantries, the Circles and in some cases the University systems ( due to the number of Mages within the Universities ). Val Royeaux would be the only exception to this, for the Templars maintained a heavy presence in the Imperial City. 

five. The United Nations of Thedas was created in the Crown Age. It was the first time that The Tevinter Imperium, Par Vollen, Orlais, and Ferelden began peace talks and other international talks. The United States of the Free Marches would join the United Nations in 16:12 Revolution and Antiva and Nevarra would follow within the next four years. Rivian would also later levy for membership later in the Revolution Age. This lead to what would what some historians would consider the first Age of Long Lasting Peace in Thedas. In 16:34 Revolution the United Nations of Thedas came to a consensus on many civil rights but the most famous right of them all was the Magical Unity and Civil Liberties of the United Nations of Thedas Amendment, better known as the Mage Rights Act.

six. In 14:78 Discovery the war between Par Vollen and the Tevinter Imperium drew to a close as the Seheron Accords were signed, bringing peace to the Seheron Islands since they had been plagued by constant war since the early Steel Age. The Accords were signed with secrecy, and many of the people of Seheron were concerned about how their lives would be affected. In the Blessed Age, Par Vollen had taken back Seheron in a bloody coup d’etat, freeing slaves from their masters and slaying those loyal to Tevinter. It was within the Steam Age that Seheron was once again reclaimed by Tevinter, only for Par Vollen to reclaim it in the end of the Machine Age. When the Accords were read, it granted Par Vollen the land of Seheron but allowed citizens to hold dual citizenship, and began satellite rule, by letting an electorate into Seheron, much like had occurred in Par Vollen early in the Reconstruction Age. Later in the Crown Age, Seheron would create their own government as Par Vollen and Tevinter lost grip of the citizens and the Independent Nation of Seheron was formed in 15:88 Crown. The Independent Nation of Seheron would join the United Nations of Thedas in the Industrial Age.

seven. Par Vollen and the Tevinter Imperium also went through major changes between the Gilded Age to the Revolution Age. For in the Steam Age, Tevinter went through it’s most drastic shift, internal politics in the Dragon Age had allowed this to happen, and Tevinter began opening its borders to outsiders and ended the period of Isolationism that had been in effect since the Tevinter Imperium lost Seheron in the Blessed Age. It was slow going, for Tevinter mainly traded with the Kingdom of Nevarra and The United States of the Free Marches in the Steam Age, yet slowly they opened their doors. It was the Imperial Senate that elected this new open door policy, and the Archon signed it into law, however, the Imperium Chantry was not as thrilled by this new open door policy, for Nevarra’s goods brought the influence of the Andrastian Chantry. Par Vollen saw a different kind of shift within their own nation, a shift away from traditionalism that took many ages, many of the details are unknown. However, Par Vollen truly joined the International stage after the Seheron Accords with a government less influenced by the Qun, yet the Qun still played a significant role in day to day life in the nation of Par Vollen. Many who live in Par Vollen have names and families, which is vastly different than what the nation had once been. This came about in the Reconstruction Age when a wave of openness swept many nations of Thedas, and many citizens of the Nations of Thedas demanded an overhaul of their governments. Yet, the interworkings of Par Vollen are still shrouded in mystery, and the Qun seems to still have a hold on the nation, for many jobs, and places in society are still assigned by the government.

seven. The Nation of the Anderfells continues to rely on the Wardens, however, most Wardens have fallen into the shadow. The United Nations of Thedas passed an amendment in the Civil Liberties Bill restricting the Joining to every ten years in Weisshaupt, or if someone is dying of the Blight. There has not been a Blight since the Dragon Age. The Anderfells are not part of the United Nations of Thedas, nor do they wish to be. The King of the Anderfells is much more present. However, the nation leans on Weisshaupt for leadership.

eight. The main concern of the United Nations of Thedas is the severely weakened veil and the sharp increase in Mage births since the start of the Industrial Age. Mages are at an all-time high since the Dragon Age, for Chantry historians had stated that Mage births were in decline after the Divine Conclave in the Mid-Dragon Age. Yet, the veil has weakened, and many are starting to feel the effects.   

nine. Nine ( including the current ) ages have passed since the Fifth Blight. They are respectively: Gilded, Steam, Reconstruction, Machine, Discovery, Crown, Revolution, Industrial and the current Atomic. a full timeline of what I have written about is here!

ten. orzammar hates everything and doesn’t want anything to do with fade bullshit. They continue to trade with nations and create impressive designs. 

So what does this mean for Solas?

one. Solas awoke in 17:77 Industrial in the United States of the Free Marches. He was at first confused by the state of the world he awoke to, but quickly adapted. He was noticed by the Wardens in 17:93 Industrial after completing a doctorate in Neo-Classical History in Ferelden under the name Solas Rudolph. He travelled for a while after this, specialising in Elvhen and teaching interim and adjunctly at a couple of universities before settling in Kirkwall in the mid 18:00s. For the love of the Maker, please do not call him Professor.

two. Solas settled in Kirkwall, more famously the Midtown sector ( the cultural hub ) and opened his own studio. He teaches adjunctly at Kirkwall University and paints in his studio, he also dabbles in photography and attends local gallery showings, sometimes for his own his shows. He is considered eclectic by his own friends. He does not drive, for the traffic in Kirkwall is terrible and prefers to bike. He’s an unregistered mage since mage registration became legal in Kirkwall in the late 18:30s. He owns one shirt not covered in paint or made of hemp ( or tweed ). He’s that guy in starbucks you HATE. 

three. He is still trying to bring down the veil, however --- he’s needed very little help. Nor has he gone for his foci. 

im dying guys i love my au.

[irafatum-a]

VERSE: WICKED EYES AND WICKED HEARTS

     A city elf born along the borders of Nevarra and the Free Marches, Rose grew up in a world full of abuse and neglect. She has very few positive memories when it comes to her mother and can barely remember her father, as her mother claimed he either ‘disappeared’ or ‘left because he wasn’t man enough to be responsible’, to the young woman the story always changes and oft times she suspects it was due to her overbearing mother for his leave, but that made her no less resentful to him for abandoning her in the process. Much of her young life spent learning to thieve and trick human’s and even other elves, doing what little she could to survive and keep herself safe from the clutches of the sick and perverse, as her own mother did very little to actually guide or care for her. Because of this she’s developed a nihilistic view of not only people but the world, and thus forced her to be independent and resourceful -- even cutthroat to a degree. 

     During this time she had many wild dreams of being free with the Dalish or having a nice home and husband, as any young girl does, but quickly abandoned these fanciful delusions upon the realization that the Dalish were no more welcoming than the shemlen, and a dutiful husband seemed all but a naive desire with how little her mother made and the fast-encroaching day when she was to be arranged to wed an elf from a neighboring Alienage. Instead of accepting her fate, young Rose had decided that she would adventure to Orlais and become a bard; many exciting tales had been sung from these passing minstrels about the countries beautiful cities and the thrill of The Grand Game; if she could be as good as the bards whom traveled Thedas, maybe -- just maybe -- she could climb the social ladder that elves were often barred from. All she had to do was kill enough...

     Stealing what money she could from her mother and betrothed, Rose left for Orlais on the back of a wagon and took a scornful look to her old home; this was most certainly not a place she would ever return or long to be. No, her future was in Orlais now, and all she had to do was get there alive. The journey to the beautiful city had taken months and a lot of self sacrifice, but once she’d made it through the gates Rose was elated to see that the songs did this land no justice; Orlesians were certainly pompous in not only their fashion but the designs in their buildings and mannerisms. And though she had initially been excited to be there, she quickly found that the Alienages in Orlais were far worse than the one’s in her hometown, she began to panic upon the realization that she very well may be right back where she started -- at the bottom with no hope of climbing the ladder out of the slums, even worse so that she knew no one here in this small space, nearly smothered in suffocation by the crampedness in which these elves lived. All hope seemed lost until she was offered a hand by a shemlen in a mask of gold and silver, he called himself; Marquis Francis Duret, a well-off nobleman looking to rise through the ranks of nobility through thievery, assassination and espionage. How opportunistic of him to find she -- a girl foreign born looking to rise in social standing -- to be his living weapon. Though Francis may have been a skilled Bardmaster himself, there were certain things tailored to his reputation that even he would not dip a finger in, but a beautiful elven woman could... none would be the wiser.  The Marquis often spied among the coming new travelers for susceptible targets for his tutelage, and in Rose found a promising pupil; maybe even obedient. 

     But the young elf quickly found that she was in a living nightmare; all the years spent under Francis had been one of slavery. She quickly found that the shemlen, though outwardly disgusted with the word, merely covered it in a new one; Servitude. There was no denying that she did, in fact, live a privileged life with her Marquis but it came at a price; her body and mind were not her own to do with as she pleased, and was often used for experimentation or sexual release. Quickly the young woman was looking for ways to escape her mentor, honing her skills as a bard to hopefully use them against her once benefactor turned abuser. While under his guidance Rose was subject to many tortures in hoping to make her stronger, one of many happened to be turning to the rituals of making Reavers; traveling to the Imperium to conduct the ritual -- one that nearly turned the young woman mad, though she survived. In his crafting of his pupil he had little realization that he was forging a monster that would in turn devour him. 

     During the events of Inquisition, when the Inquisitor closes the Breach and begins to form a small army in hopes of discovering the Divines murder and the Conclave’s explosion, Francis took this opportunity to send Rose off in hopes of finding information. The Marquis was certain that with the Inquisition growing in influence and power that the Orlesian nobility would turn their eyes upon them in worry, and should he have any political secrets could ascend him higher to Duke. Forcing his pupil to go would give others little suspicion of him and should Rose be caught -- damned with her, let her die. She, however, saw this as an opportunity to acquire allies against the Marquis and eagerly took to travel through the snowy mountains, being greeted as a traveling bard to sing to the weary pilgrims and warriors.

     The Inquisitor can recruit Rose as a companion and take her along on quests, can romance her or acquire her friendship and help her overthrow the Marquis so that she may ascend to Bardmaster and attend the Grand Game. Taking her with you to Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts will allow you bonus dialogue and special events due to her knowledge of Orlesian culture, language and fashion, giving you an edge during the ball. Should you make an enemy of Rose instead she will turn on the Inquisition and abandon the fortress entirely, either being enslaved by the Marquis ( timeline dependent ) or killing him and ascending bard status, using information acquired from the Inquisition to help advance her status among the nobility and become a highly sought-after Bard. 

     One of her special talents is her song; it can allure and confuse depending on the situation at hand or her intent. Even in the presence of other bards many will eventually look only to Rose; as she was trained in song and dance, using her natural good looks and beautiful voice to arouse and beguile. Rose also has a specialization in the Reaver class, and depending on the timeline will enhance these abilities or she will fall to the madness of not only the dragons blood, but her own WRATH. 

Name: Rose, Rose of Thorns ( Bardmaster status ), Rose of The Bards and The Carta ( timeline / verse dependent ) Age: 24 / 25 Sex: Female Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Race: Elf 

Mother: Deva ( unknown ) Father: Yevrand ( unknown ) Sibling(s): None ( unknown )

Mentor / Bardmaster: Marquis Francis Duret Employer: Barone Malatesta ( twice removed to Francis )

Skills: Bard and Reaver  Occupation: Bard / Bardmaster Birthplace: Between Nevarra and Free Marches ( closer to Free Marches ) Current Residence: Orlais / Skyhold ( timeline / verse dependent )

ALIGNMENT TRACKER

    Chaste ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌ ● Lustful    Energetic ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Lazy    Forgiving ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌ Vengeful   Generous ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Selfish       Honest ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌ Deceitful            Just ◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌ Arbitrary      Merciful ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Cruel       Modest ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌ Proud          Pious ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Worldly      Prudent ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌ Reckless Temperate ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Indulgent     Trusting ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌ Suspicious    Valorous ◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌◌ Cowardly

BIG 5 PERSONALITY TRAITS

EXTRAVERSION

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ : outgoing ★★★★★★★★☆☆ : risk-taking ★★★★★★★★★☆ : excitement-seeking ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ : physically adventurous

AGREEABLENESS

★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ : trusting ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ : compassionate ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ : empathetic ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ : enjoys company

NEUROTICISM

★★★★★★★★★★: angry ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ : depressed ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ : anxiety ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ : emotionally stable

CONSCIENTIOUSNESS

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ : self-disciplined ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ : hard-working ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ : prepared/dutiful ★★★★★★★★★☆ : aims to over-achieve

OPENNESS TO EXPERIENCE

★★★★★★★☆☆☆ : likes new things ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ : likes novel settings ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ : intellectual/ideas/imaginative ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ : enjoys art/culture/adventure

GENERAL SKILLS

★★☆☆☆ Climbing ★★★★★ Riding ★★★★☆ Swimming ★★★★☆ Tracking ★★★★☆ Cooking ★★★☆☆ First Aid ★★★★☆ Pick-Pocketing ★★★★☆ Survival

ARMOR AND WEAPONS

Light armor or heavy armor?:  Light / Medium  Favourite weapon: Daggers / Claws ( Reaver ) Name of your weapon(s):  Unknown; she does not attach herself to weapons Fight with shield?: No

★★★☆☆ Edged weapons ★★★★★ Dual Weapons ☆☆☆☆☆ Crushing weapons (mazes, clubs, etc) ★☆☆☆☆ Two-handed weapons ★★★☆☆ Thrown weapons (knives, axes, javelins) ★★★★★ Archery

CRAFTING SKILLS

★★★☆☆ Herbalism ★★★★☆ Poison-Making ★★★☆☆ Traps-Making ☆☆☆☆☆ Armor-Crafting ★☆☆☆☆ Weapon-Crafting ★☆☆☆☆ Rune-Crafting

INFLUENCE SKILLS

★★★★☆ Acting ★★★☆☆ Appraisal ★★★★☆ Bribery ★★★☆☆ Diplomacy ★★★☆☆ Gambling ★★★☆☆ Interrogation ★★☆☆☆ Leadership ★★☆☆☆ Public Speaking ★★★★★ Seduction ★★☆☆☆ Trading ★★★★★ Trickery

ROGUE SKILLS

★★★★☆ Lock picking ★★★☆☆ Disarming Traps

TALENTS:

★★★★☆ Sabotage ★★☆☆☆ Scoundrel ★★★☆☆ Specialist ★★★★☆ Subterfuge

SPECIALIZATIONS:

★★★★☆ Assassin ★★★☆☆ Duelist ★★☆☆☆ Shadow ★★★★★ Bard ★☆☆☆☆ Ranger ☆☆☆☆☆ Legionnaire Scout ★★★★★ Other ( Reaver )

OTHER

★★★☆☆ Read / Write

LANGUAGES:

★★★★★ Common Tongue ★★★☆☆ Elven Language ★★★★☆ Orlesian ★★☆☆☆ Antivan ☆☆☆☆☆ Rivaini ☆☆☆☆☆ Ander ★☆☆☆☆ Qunlat ★☆☆☆☆ Tevene ☆☆☆☆☆ Ancient Tevene