#Edric Cadash

[hollyand-writes]

My husband started a new Dragon Age: Inquisition playthrough (for fanart research – these are photos of a TV screen (we play on Xbox) so they're not as good quality as they could be).

Anyway! Here is his new Inquisitor: Edric Cadash, dwarf warrior.

[gh-0-stcup]

My Inquisitors:

[emopulco]

Five of Swords

[thedastrash]

DADWC Prompts

Alright, I'm accepting prompts, though I will not be writing them for another month or so... I will edit this with more info when I'm ready!

Pairings in my mental canon:

Surana/Alistair/Zevran

Amell/Morrigan, later Amell/Merrill/Josephine? I have a scheme...

Cousland/Nathaniel Howe

Mahariel/&Justice - Justice merges with my Mahariel in an au

Hawke/Fenris/Anders

Cadash/Cassandra Pentaghast

Rarer pairings that intrigue me currently:

Merrill/Cassandra

Bethany/Isabela/Merrill (or any combo)

Cassandra/Varric

Josephine/Leliana/Cassandra/Cullen (or any combo)

Cullen/Carver

Alistair/Bethany

Carver/Merrill

Bethany/Mahariel

Anders/Amell

Varric/Hawke

or surprise me with a fun trio! I love a trio

OCs I want to write about:

Velaneth Surana (she/her): friendly, fluffy, ice mage

Irene Amell (she/her): mean, goth, necromancer witch babe

Bearn Cousland (he/him): soft, shy, scholarly rogue lad

Ithadhea Mahariel (they/them): reserved, blighted, deadly archer

Myrna Hawke (she/they) : punchy, impulsive, fire and force mage

Edric Cadash (he/they): romantic hearted, poet warrior

Prompts:

Under construction. Multi-warden AU, my beloved <3

More later!

[jakesocdump]

Edric Cadash is a cast-off "surfacer", unwelcome among the dwarves or most humans, and has scraped by as part of a criminal fraternity known as teh Carta, smuggling lyrium. As part of the ruthless Cadash crime family, he has spent his life on the streets of various Free Marcher city-states.

He romanced Cassandra

He specialised as an Artificer

He aided the Templars at Therinfal Redoubt, and allied with them

He saved the life of Empress Celene, and encouraged her to make peace with Gaspard and Briala

He helped the Grey Wardens rebuild in Ferelden and Orlais

Stroud was left in the Fade to fight the Nightmare

After allying with the guardians of Mythal's temple, Morrigan drank from the Well of Sorrows

Cassandra was made Divine

He circulated the story that Inquisitor Ameridan was human

He preserved the Inquisition as a peacekeeping force, swearing to stop Solas at all costs.

[thepigeonk1ng]

ok but TELL ME these don’t have the same vibes 

[v-mum-writes]

was asked semi-recently if Kaayras Adaar was my only “Inquisitor” and no, definitely not. Ive played the game a LOT as Adaar variations but ive also played the other races. Kaayras is a reflection of my preferred playstyle (Qunari, stealth rouge, trying to hyper-pacifist and balance all the Companion relationships); Maha’llana is the embodiment of my frustration that I can just use various weapons all the time whenever i want even if theres a significant loss to attack power or something which i project onto a collection of red haired elf characters; Edric is combination of my willingness to Fight how vague all the Dwarven Lore and Character Designs tend to be by trying to make my own Dwarf and History; Maxwell is my cacophony of sympathy for the mage’s plight in the form of a child with too much responsibility and far too much power.

Anyway, those are my 4 Main Inquisitors and when I play the game as one of them There’s a running lore that the other 3 all existed in the same world (and canonically die at the conclave). They’ve all met at least once, although to say how is various spoilers for Purple Vitaar.

I have a story I’ve been loosely writing (from Maxwell’s Perspective mostly?) when i get writers block for Purple Vitaar and maybe someday I’ll post it if there's ever enough; it’s one of those ‘4 Inquisitors’ stories. It’s working title is “Four Pillars”.

Traumatized Qunari (roughly 30-35) and an annoyingly bombastic elf spy (20ish) and tiny human mage (6) there's a dwarf cartel member (18) and then all four of them accidentally get magic hands and now have to save the world and Kaayras just needs to know why he is responsible for three children.

Also we all know by this point that Kaayras is nicknamed by Varric to “Heartless” but please god know that Varric would call Maxwell “Ducky” and that is Everything. Edric is “Peacock” and Maha’llana is “Wildfire”

[musetta3]

Revka Cadash and the Great Nug Hunt

It’s done! Thank you to @jarakrisafis, who sent me the writing prompt of ‘Carta, twelve injuries, and a greased nug;’ this was so much fun to write. Introducing Revka Cadash, my new Dwarven OC; she’s Jarak’s Inquisitor, Edric ‘Dasher’ Cadash’s, cousin.  

PS: @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold, you said that you wanted me to tag you when completed, so. Tada! <3

When Revka Cadash had agreed to a ‘Wicked Grace night with the crew,’ she did not expect this. She leaned back in her chair, half in the air as she balanced perilously between tipping backwards or slamming into the table. Perhaps the latter would’ve been the better option; she’d seen funerals livelier than this iteration of ‘Saturday Night with Cousin Edric.’

“Ed,” she said, “I’m bored.” He arched his eyebrow over his Wicked Grace cards.

“Go get another drink, then,” he replied, discarding a drake and picking up another card. “Although you’re already tipsy.”

She huffed in outrage, “am not.”

“You are; you can’t keep a straight face. Your cheating’s sodding obvious.” Revka’s mouth twitched in amusement. No one in the Cadash clan—not even Edric ‘Dasher’ Cadash, himself—could touch her when she played Wicked Grace. Sober, that is. When tipsy… Everyone, it was said, had their vices; Rev Cadash’s was being unable to keep a straight face when drunk.  

Well, that and sweets. She fished around in her belt pouch and popped yet another nougat in her mouth, toying with her cards. She fumbled through the fuzziness enveloping her for an idea to liven the evening. Drinking alone wasn’t much fun—she rarely drank with the crew on principle, to prevent overfamiliarity. Besides, half-drunk Carta were more trouble than they were worth. They already broke up a fistfight earlier over a card game. She needed something to distract everyone. Revka slammed her (losing) hand of cards on the table, causing several heads to turn.

“Mordhau, Verdin: break out the grease and a mud splasher. Let’s live a little.” She smirked at her cousin, pushing herself away from the table.

“You’re either bored to death, or slightly mad,” Edric replied, clearly amused. “Can’t tell which.”

“Both, sweet cousin, both… and perhaps the slightest bit tipsy.” She sauntered across the back room of their warehouse on the Docks. ‘Greywater Imports,’ it said on the door, which was true—the Cadash clan did deal in import/exports—but their merchandise’s origins were murky at best, and downright illegal at worst. Didn’t stop the Cadashes, however. Nothing did, not even the room spinning as Revka crossed it. 

Mordhau and Verdin reappeared, bearing a squealing nug and a pot of grease. The men cheered when she slathered the nug with grease and made a raunchy joke concerning the last occasion she’d used that much grease for something… something tall, horned, and incredibly muscular. Her hypothetical night with a greased qunari earned her some whoops and laughs.

“Five sovereigns to whoever catches this slippery bastard,” she called.

“Eight sovereigns say you can’t do it,” Edric declared from his seat in the corner, brow arched in challenge. “Too far in your cups, you are. The lot of you!”

She flashed a grin and let the nug loose. It squeaked, scurrying away. It was almost cute, if she ignored the creepy paw-hands and those beady eyes full of indignance. Her niece might like it for a pet, maybe. Her smile fell off her face as several Carta came barreling towards her and the nug. Revka stumbled back. “O-Oi,” she said, “oi! Slow down, you hear? Slow down—”

Alas, that she had forgotten the chair behind her. She backed right into tripping over it, and the others? Tackled by four hulking dwarva was not how Revka thought she’d die. She probably broke ribs from those fools, those squabbling, drunk fools too busy pommeling each other to focus. She crawled out from beneath them and rolled to her feet, jaw dropping.

It was pure chaos. Grown men and women—assassins, smugglers, deadly mercenaries alike—ran about the room like shrieking children, jumping over benches and faceplanting into the floor as they scrambled after the nug. Crawling under tables. Slipping on spilled drinks. Trampling fingers. Edric simply cackled from his corner, of course: the ‘Boss’ was far too reserved to join in the fun.

A flash of pink darted across her periphery. Revka dove under the table, pouncing on the nug with a triumphant ‘aha,’ but her grip was tenuous. The creature wriggled away, leaving her and her favorite gray shirt grease-stained past salvation. She cursed under her breath.

“Come back,” Revka exclaimed, crawling after it. It ran under the keg table, towards the wooden bars partitioning the rest of the room from the back office. If she hurried, Revka could catch it before it reached the bars. She reached out to snatch, it wriggled away. She tried again, but to no avail. She nearly had it when the nug slipped through the bars to the safety of the office.

“Damn it, get back here,” Revka said, reaching through the bars, her groping hands grasped for the nug cowering just out of reach. She looked about the room. What had begun as a nug hunt had devolved into a wrestling match in one corner, several discouraged dwarva drinking off their sprains, a few sleeping under the tables, and an earnest search in another part of the room. If she stood and opened the door, it would alert the others, and that wouldn’t do, not at all. 

Revka eyed the partition before her: the bars seemed wide enough apart for her to fit. She prided herself on her curves, but she wasn’t large; she could’ve squeezed through these bars, back in her twenties, and she hadn’t changed that much…

Revka Cordelia Cadash learned the hard way that she had, indeed, changed much more than she had realized over the years... and all the sweets she’d eaten had gone to her hips.

Her eyes went wide, the size of platters. The curves she had been so proud of not five minutes prior, it seemed, betrayed her in the worst manner imaginable. Revka sucked in her gut and shimmied, pulling herself through the bars inch by inch. She tripped on her own feet on the way out, landing on her broken ribs.

“Agh!” she bit her knuckle to stifle the shout. “Son of a nug-humping bastard, that hurt.” There was a soft coo above her head; Revka craned her neck to see the poor nug, trembling pitifully. Her heart softened.

“Frightened you well, didn’t we?” she asked, slowly extending her hand. The nug flinched.

“Shh, I won’t hurt you,” she whispered, “I think you’ve gone through quite enough in the name of fun.” The nug slowly crept towards her, nuzzling her fingers. She scoffed a laugh.

“Come on, you lucky nug,” she said, gently scooping it up and making for the door. “You’ve made me a nice bit of coin; no soup pot for you.” She balanced the nug on her hip as one did a toddler while digging her key from her belt pouch. She unlocked the door and sauntered into the fray.

“Alright, pay up, fun’s over,” she called, mounting a chair and holding the nug aloft. “Wounded against the wall for treatment. The rest of you, clean up this mess. Verdin, fetch the healer, we have…” Her eyebrows rose in surprise. Fourteen dwarva leaned against the heavy wooden crates and shelves, with injuries ranging from black eyes to sprained wrists and loose teeth.

Revka shook her head and sighed. “Make that two healers, Verdin. Come on, Lucky: you’re getting a bath.” The nug squirmed as she filled a bucket with water and found a mostly in-tact bar of Antivan soft soap she’d ‘borrowed’ from their stock. She plopped down in her seat at her cousin’s table.

“Did I hear you right? ‘Lucky?’ You named it?” Edric asked. “You broke your ribs for that thing.”

She shrugged, scrubbing the nug with a rag. “Won me eight sovereigns, though. Which, ahem…” she tapped the table expectantly. Edric grumbled and tossed the coin on the table, rolling his eyes at her glee.

“Lucky the Nug,” he mumbled. “You’ve definitely drunk too much.”

“Now, now: don’t bad-mouth your nephew, he’s a good little nug—” no sooner had the words left her mouth, did the nug upset the bucket and send a deluge of water cascading across the table and onto the floor. She grimaced when Edric picked up a sopping Wicked Grace card.

“Hang them up to dry,” she said, scrambling to salvage the situation. “They’ll be good as new—oh dear.” The poor Knight of Wisdom’s eyes had run, gray rivulets meandering down his cheeks as though he was in tears.

“‘Lucky.’ He’s lucky he’s not my sodding dinner,” Edric groused, collecting his soggy cards and departing for the office. Revka fell back in her seat, blowing out all her air.

When Revka Cadash had agreed to a ‘Wicked Grace night with the crew,’ she most certainly did not expect this.  

[bashcrandicoot]

Some Bull and Cadash doodles

[odekiax2]

I guess I was born in the Deep Roads, to who knows who. Well I was either born there or left there. I guess I should be grateful that the nobles that found me tossed me in Dust Town instead of leaving me to starve.

I guess it was because I was lyrium touched. Just look at the eyes. People like me, born with lyrium blue eyes, are called lyrium touched. Some believe we are demons from the topsiders' Fade, others believe it's a mark of greatness.

Either way, people get restless because of them, scared. Easy way to scare fools into obeying. It opened doors and closed them.

I guess someone in Dust Town took care of me until I could walk. All I can remember is the street. I survived by stealing from those more fortunate than me. The guards, some duster that just got paid or by sneaking into the Commons. Money was pretty much worthless when no one would sell to you, so it was food and things like health potions I looked for.

When I was old enough, I was picked up by the Carta. They took me in, taught me how to fight, kept my belly full. They even let me choose a weapon for myself and chose the biggest and baddest of them all. I was angry at the world, angry at everything for being forsaken to live alone in misery. I wanted to hurt people.

Still the first time I saw someone's insides I threw up. I felt angry and powerful as I waved my big ass sword or maul around, but still the first time I gutted someone… there was something about taking a life, something about seeing their innards fall down to the floor, was too real for me.

Of course I got used to the sight. You don't get to my age in the carta without seeing some blood.

Carta life was simple enough. It was a good life if you kept your head down and I did.

For most of my life I was just called Lyrium Eyes, or Lyre for short. I got an actual name when I rescued a surface dwarf and his merchandize. He kind of took me in, gave me his name and taught me things like self grooming and how to actually speak more than a few words. He was patient and nice and all he wanted in return was my body. It was a small price to pay.

So I became Edric Cadash, and Stone forgive if you forgot that, I didn't take it kindly.

The scars you ask? It was just me and the guys, trying to look tough. We scarred each others faces to look more battle worn and scary. And get the ladies. I used to make up stories for them either glorious or funny or both, but soon forgot what story went with which scar and stopped bothering.

Anything else to ask, ambassador?

[athenasdragon]

Continuing to play around with a multi-Inquisitor AU

[kaidanalenko]

no one asked for it but here's more edric!

[gh-0-stcup]

Inquisitor Cadash - boy edition

[mscloudybrain]

*looks at watch to see it's been 600 years since last posted* ah

Sooo yeah im terrible at posting things but HEY

New picture!! Specifically of my stinky Inquisitor Cadash man, he,,,, smelly

[spiders-scribbles]

Boored work doodles!

[vonuberwald]

4, 8, 12, 16 for the oc codex prompts, one for each of your lovelies, Though I'll let you decide who gets what. :)

4. something written on a statue dedicated to your OC

The dedication on a statue of Inquisitor Revas Lavellan at the site of the former village of Haven reads: 

‘He had the heart of a Lion’

Many people who pass by and read the inscription have heard of the Inquisitor’s many brave deeds, but there are others who see it and smile, knowing the double meaning to these words.

8. something written about one of your OC’s regrets

A page of Seeker Pentaghast’s journal, dated not long before the Inquisition had saved the Empress at Halamshiral, was found to mention the annhilation of Clan Lavellan as one of the Inquisitor’s greatest regrets.

‘He tosses and turns and cries for his sisters, his brothers still. It is heart-wrending, o my Mahanon, that we could have saved them for you…’

12. propaganda written in support of your OC

‘Inquisitor Trevelyan uses extreme but efficient methods to get the job done! No stone left unturned, no helpful herb left unplucked if it can save at least one person. 

The Inquisitor is proud and noble of face, but not mean of spirit - quite a change from the penny-pinchers safe and warm in their keeps whilst the rest of us deal with the demons, the apostates and the rogue templars! 

No task is too trivial if the Inquisitor passes by! 

-from a column of the Kirkwall Gazette, (ed. V Tethras)

16. something written to your OC by an older member of their family

‘To my dunce brother Inquisitor Cadash Stone Help Me,

Listen up! You get yourself out of there right now - wait ‘till it’s dark, slip some food into your pack and some shinies to sell to get on by later, and head home right now!

I know the bloke that runs the tavern at the end of the street is looking for some muscle, non-Carta, (I know you’re out of it now, fair enough), and willing to give you a try on my say-so. Let it never be said your sister doesn’t know how to look after you - Stone knows you don’t look after yourself, you great lump!

Brigga

Send me OC Codex Prompts