#Elven hart statue

[lairofdragonagelore]

Exalted Plains

The Exalted Plains, also known as Dirthavaren ("the promise") in elvish, is a grassland region of the Dales in Orlais. Centuries ago, the Dalish kingdom met its end here, the holdouts of the elven army making their last stand, refusing to surrender against the champions of Andraste: the templar, the sister, and the nobleman patron. The champions' cause was just, and their faith led them to victory. The plains were henceforth called "Exalted". After the elves' defeat and the dissolution of their kingdom, Ville Montevelan became the first human settlement in the Dales, presided over by Revered Mother Amity, Champion of the Exalted March.

Currently, the region is a contested battlefield during the War of the Lions until Empress Empress Celene and Gaspard de Chalons's armies agreed to cease hostilities.

[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]

When entering this zone, Solas explains that this place has a thin Veil product of the battles that happened long time ago: the Exalted March of Dales. So we know we are going to see a mixture of elven ruins and human settlements. 

Scout Harding will inform us that in the area there is a group of rebels who are tired of the War of the Lions, and wants the Dales for themselves.

The first thing we see when we enter this zone are these statues that, design-wise, they are very, very close to the Humanoid Dirthamen/Falon'Din. Humanoid Dirthamen/Falon'Din is a squatted hooded figure, who doesn’t have any object in his hand. This one holds a plate which works as a brazier. In fact, the elven statues are placed in this entrance, but on the Emerald Graves side:

They are called Guardians of the Path, and by the note they trigger, they are Andrastian. Still the striking similarity between these statues and the one we associate with Dirthamen makes me suspect that, once conquered, the Orlesians repurposed the native statues.

The first ruin we find, which surrounds the camp, is an elven one, with a dragon painting on one of its columns.

Besides the path there is a rectangle statue which on its top has a star-shaped fountain with a dove. On a side there is a reused elven/dwarven relic tablet that will trigger the codex Memorials of the Second Exalted March which will be updated as we read all these stones spread in the region. They explain how the “battle” against the elves was happening, mixing Andrastre’s tale with probably bits of History.  It’s very curious how this piece of information depicts the elves as proud and murderous, far away from the Maker and Andraste, which is clearly a lie when we analyse Di’nan Hanin; these Dalish, unlike modern Dalish, had fused Andraste cult into their elven pantheon, not without reason: It had been some decades since they had recovered these lands thanks to Andraste’s promise.

The zone has several ramparts where the imperial army [either side] is trying to retake control from the undead and the demons. Recovering each of these is quite a repetitive task all over the place.

The only important comment about these ramparts is that they give us some idea to understand the function of these Strange Skull-Dragon totem : They seem to hold barriers around pits that allow the dead to rise, and also as columns surrounding zones with many undead or demons. They seem to be related to summoning rituals.

Along the region we find several Andrastian statues and the typical orlesian style in the remnants of the houses that still stand.

Fort Revasan shows the standard elven patterns of any elven ruin. The Orlesian occupation built extra, less durable additions with chess-like floors and decorated wooden elements.

Close to Fort Revasan there is a sealed entrance that requires a war table operation to be solved in order to open. It shows a Fen’Harel statue, guarding the entrance.  It’s a nice detail to see that the base of his statue shows an eluvian-like pattern worth to keep present.

Very far away in the North, over the mountains that surround this region, we see a big Fen’Harel statue observing the Exalted Plains. It’s hard to guess what this zone represented in the time of the Elvhenan [not the Dalish kingdom]. This place has 3 main elvhen ruins: the one in the North Rampart, the Ghilan’nair’s grove, and the Graveyard Var Bellanaris. There are more than these, but they are too destroyed or small. It’s hard to ponder if all of them date of the same time.

At some kilometres of distance from the Fen’Harel’s statue, we see a tower of radical different style. At a single glance, we can see it’s Tevinter. More details of this in the Post about Exalted Plains: Citadelle du Corbeau.

Riverside Garrison is another elven ruin which patterns make it look like Elvhen: flower pattern, square pattern and swirl pattern.

Inside, we find more elements that allows us to suspect this is Elvehan from the time when the Veil did not exist. There is an elaborated tile that we will see in puzzles in the Temple of Mythal, and one of those rounded trees, growing out of it.

With the exception of the rounded tree, the decoration looks like an elvehnan crypt; its style is the same one we found in the crypts of the Temple of Mythal. There are bodies, skeletons and urns everywhere. Of course, DAI has several bodies and skeletons that they use for everything dead, so I won’t focus on the armour or the details of these objects. They are always the same no matter what kind of dead you are looking at: an avvar body, an elven body or a dwarven body.

Close to Revasan Fort, there is a collapsed bridge decorated with a statue of Andraste and a landmark called Pont Agur. It explains with dubious accuracy that after the Exalted March of the Dales some villagers drown trying to cross the river, so the mayor built this bridge and dedicated it to humans and elves too. This started a rumour about the mayor having elven blood, and had to step down. I think this shows how complex was this land after the March; these things [elves and humans in relationships] have been happening since long time ago, as the Tomb of Elandrin shows us with the incident of Red Crossing. For more details read Emerald Graves: Din’an Hanin, Tomb of Elandrin.

Beside Port Agur we find villa Montevelan, where this story of the mayor happened. This was the first human settlement after the Exalted March of the Dales. It’s all destroyed now.

Inside some ramparts we can see big trees that got my attention: I don’t know if they can be considered the original vhenadahl, the trees that the city elves try to grow as a memory of their Dalish roots. These trees can be found in ramparts as well as in the Citadelle du Corbeau. In many times, they show bodies hanging from its branches, so they inspire some murderous sentiment to such an elven symbol [if these tree are supposed to be vhenadahl, I’m just guessing since these can’t be found in other elven ruins, so they seem to be more Dalish than Elvish to me.]

In this rampart in particular, we find a difference in comparison with the rest of the ramparts in the area: there is a small tower which construction date is hard to guess. It could have been built during the Exalted March or a bit earlier.  The entrance is decorated with these enigmatic tablets, depicting the Razikale Ceremony and the Horned warrior holding a sword. We have established they were Tevinter due to their presence in Coracavus and The Still Ruins. Inside the tower we find a Tevinter inspector, Tevinter containers, and minor, decorative Tevinter elements. Inside this tower there is a codex about Legend of the Three Sisters: Book 3, which makes the player aware of how stories change depending on factors such as historical-political situation, countries or censorship. This is yet another call out that the game does to us, players, to not take every single story we read as 100% true. 

It seems that Tevinter mages were present in the Exalted Plains at some point in History and performed some magic or experiments. Considering the Strange Skull-Dragon totem and the undead all over the place, I would be inclined to think that some faction during the Exalted March invited Tevinter mages to provide efforts in the battle. Which is a very odd concept if we remember that it was a war between Elves [many of them coming from families who had fought Tevinter by Andraste’s side to recover their freedom] and the Chantry of that time [which always had some frictions with Tevinter].

I thought in a possibility to explain this Tevinter presence: since many of the elves that fought in the Exalted March belonged to families that had been former slaves of Tevinter mages, some of them could have developed a vast knowledge of Tevinter arcane magic. I have the impression this is more or less proven in the Citadelle du Corbeau, where elves may have installed a Tevinter defence system in an elven ruin. Because of this last fact, I’m a bit inclined to think this is the reason why we find Tevinter elements in this region. However, that doesn’t add up that we find these tablets, which are more related to Tevinter gods and ceremonies than Elven ones. I can imagine elves resorting to Tevinter devices against the Chantry, but hardly performing rituals to Tevinter gods. 

As a conclusion I don’t think we can make a decent explanation of why we find so many Tevinter objects in the ramparts and elven ruin when there is no Tevinter building in the whole region.

We see this rock with an eye in many places of Exalted Plains, usually, but not exclusively, representing the attack of Orlesians [at least in the context of Exalted Plains and Emerald green]. During the main quest, in the attack to Adamant Fortress, it was the Inquisition who used these stones. Clearly a reused asset with little meaning, so I will skip it.

In Victory Rise we find more Elven ruins: we can see the elven patterns of swirls and flowers around this door.  In this place we find the codex of  Legend of the Three Sisters: Book 1. 

In Enavuris [such a name to confuse it so easily with Evanuris] we find a ruin that, after inspection, allows you to follow a quest to look for ancient elven glyphs. The power that the note  The Elven Glyphs talks about ends up being the “Dirthamen’s wisdom”, a strange shield that can be found at the end of the exploration of the Lost Temple of Dirthamen which has an oddly Tevinter look. [See the post related to the Lost Temple of Dirthamen]. It’s hard to understand what each of these symbols that appear in the glyphs mean. Clearly, all of them are secrets, such it is the nature of Dirthamen.  A brief, potential analysis can be found in the post of the Lost Temple of Dirthamen.

In Halin’sulahn we find a very small Dalish clan. They are placed close to a rock which shows the usual painting of a yellow halla, and the one that looks like a battle with many elves on hallas. There is also a statue of a hart. After talking with the Keeper of this clan we are informed about several elven-issues that the War of the Lions has caused.

The encampment shows the typical Dalish symbols: these fences with ragged hides and tree branches paint in red or green on them.

I always like to highlight that the Aravels keep these undulating lines that make me remember the undulating patterns in many, if not all, murals found in DAI. It is also worth remembering that the aravels were prison-ships filled with slaves that sent elves to dwarven cities [check The Horror of Hormak].

In search for those ancient elven glyphs, we explore a zone called Ancient Baths. By its name it seems to be an elven building which allowed baths in the river. Its entrance is decorated with two archer statues, and two wall paintings: the yellow halla, and the black twisted halla with white elves wearing vallaslin [the Dalish “remember” that golden hallas guided The people to places where they needed to be, specially in desperate times. The truth behind that probable is more twisted]. Every time I see these paintings I suspect that this building was meant to be used by slaves.

As we proceed, we find a point where we need to jump off. This chamber, in its configuration [not grandeur], looks like the Temple of Mythal's main chamber where the priest stays in a high place, inaccessible to reach [no stairs in this chamber], looking from above down to the petitioner. 

This section has ancient elven decorative elements: two inuksuit decorated with red swirls and a central squared stone, both elements used for the elven dead. More than half of the ruin has fallen apart but it seems to give an idea that this building was meant to be used to see baths in the river.

As it can be seen, the decoration is ancient elvhen.

As we explore the map, we find this statue which triggers Andruil's Messenger, a codex that produces more confusion than understanding of who is the god behind the owl symbol. There is a painting of a yellow halla beside the statue. Since it is an information given by Gisharel, it may be extremely wrong. The tale almost hides a command: the people, aka the slaved elves, will follow Andruil, she will tell them when to hunt, when to raise hallas, and when to settle down. And for that, she will use an owl. Since we do not truly have better sources confirming that the owl, crow, or raven are Dirthamen’s sacred animal, it’s hard to suspect how much of this tale has been twisted along the Dalish history.

In the open we see more of these four painting together: The row of slaved elves, The Armoured Figure,  The Vallaslin shifting halla, and the black halla with elves wearing vallaslin. All these paintings together seem to speak about elves being capture, alienated [ they have no face nor heart] under the control of a symbol we have seen a lot: the golden ring, and these slaves are related to vallaslin and deformed hallas that shift. For more detail, see the post Nation Art: Elvhen.

Several times in the open we can find these owl statues or the archers. Sometimes even marking a path, as if they were guiding us to some places. Sometimes they are accompanied with the paintings.

The Path of flame, a name designated by the Chantry to this part, looks like the entrance of a bigger elven ruin, which is protected by two big Fen’Harel statues. The landmark we trigger around this area, extremely unreliable, suggests that this place was an elven arena. I hardly believe it, but certainly there is something about gathering many elves and forcing them to walk certain paths [aka, a path to mark slaves? considering the paintings]. The truth is, that the game has showed us two elvhen arenas already: In Emprise du Lion, called currently by orlesians names since the original ones were lost to the ages: Etienne’s Ring and Leontine’s Ring, which are now used by dragons. So, I have to say that despite not trusting this source in the slightest, the Ruined Arches of Exalted Plains have a similar look to those we see in Emprise du Lion. So maybe elves had rings after all but the purpose of them is completely unknown. 

In this zone, we find a solitary statue of Fen’Harel on the waterfall.

Some meters away from it, there is a Shrine to Sylaise, which entrance is decorated in the same fashion than the Ancient Baths: two archers indicating the entrance, and two paintings depicting a yellow halla and a black halla wtih elves wearing vallaslin.

When we enter the temple, we only find crypt-related elements: inuksuit and urns, and a codex of Sylaise is triggered: Sylaise: the Hearthkeeper, which is the usual one we find in DAO, and extremely unreliable.

Inside the temple there is a small corner covered with a barrier, where a body can be found. This body has a valuable historical talisman of the Dales elves, and an ancient elven robe. It's not clear to me how to understand the situation in which we find it.

This talisman belonged to an historical warrior of the Dales, and since we find a Robe that looks like the same one than the Keeper of the Clan we met, I assume this body was an ancient Keeper who wanted to protect that talisman from the shemlen, and made a barrier with themselves inside, or they activated some trap of the small shrine and got caught in it..

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore ]

[diirthara-ma]

I’m learning to use Frosty Editor rn, and while I was roaming through the DAI game files I noticed that the elven rituals in What Pride Had Wrought are all named in reference to specific elven gods. The first ritual (that essentially just shows you how the rituals work) is named something simple, like “first ritual” or “intro ritual” or something, but the three main puzzles are called Elgar’nan ritual, Fen’Harel ritual, and Dirthamen ritual.

The Elgar’nan ritual is the easiest puzzle, in the northeastern part of the map.

The Fen’Harel ritual is the puzzle with the gates and lever, in the southeastern part of the map.

The Dirthamen ritual is the puzzle that includes several sets of stairs, in the western part of the map.

I feel like this fits with what we know of these three gods: Elgar’nan’s puzzle is way less complicated than both Dirthamen (god of secrets and knowledge) and Fen’Harel (the trickster/rebel god). 

The Fen’Harel puzzle requires you to first fail the puzzle in order to succeed, and requires you to essentially trap yourself in the puzzle in order to move forward. 

The shape of the Dirthamen puzzle reminds me of the twin nature of Dirthamen and Falon’Din.

Other things of note: There are wolf statues all over the Fen’Harel ritual, as well as the Fen’Harel mosaic on the wall. Sylaise’s mosaic is on the wall in the entryway to Elgar’nan’s ritual room, and his puzzle is decorated with statues of sentinel archers. The Dirthamen puzzle has both owl statues and red hart statues (with 5 owls on the right side of the puzzle and 5 hart statues on the left). The entryway to the Dirthamen ritual room has the June mosaic, and the walls in the Dirthamen ritual room have a June mosaic, a broken Mythal mosaic, two broken Fen’Harel mosaics, and a broken Falon’Din mosaic. Also the Falon’Din altar is right next to Dirthamen’s ritual room, and the Andruil altar is right next to Fen’Harel’s room.

[virlath]

These statues in DAO

Ok so I’ve been replaying DAO to refresh my memory (it’s been a while) and all the statues have been really sticking out to me, particularly these ones in the circle of magi.

1. The above screenshots are from the third level of the circle tower. Yes they totally look similar to the fleshy sacs in the DA4 teaser (which I’ll get to later). Incidentally, this room contains a powerful abomination and skeleton archers, and I assume these fleshy growths are a result of demons manifesting into the world. The veil also seems to be very thin here because you can see several lyrium veins that have manifested from the fade.

2. The statues in this room depict a hooded woman standing with a shield in front of her. Four of these statues are centered in the room, clearly in the process of being overtaken by the fleshy growths.

I think these statues are depictions of Mythal, although the identity of the woman in this statue is never confirmed in the game (AFAIK correct me if I’m wrong).

The thing is, depictions of Mythal are very scant in DAO, and there are very few confirmed references to her anywhere, even in the dalish camps or brecilian ruins. This is interesting to me because there are many, many statues representing Ghilan’nain, Sylaise, and Andruil.

Andruil (left), Ghilan’nain (right) in the Brecilian ruins

Sylaise (left), non broken Ghilan’nain statue (right) in the Brecilian ruins

Sylaise and Ghilan’nain share a symmetry with Andruil in these ruins which I think is interesting in itself. Sylaise’s statue is clean and relatively unmarked, while Ghilan’nain’s is dirty and often broken (headless and no arms like the one below)

Broken Ghilan’nain statue in front of Flemeth’s hut

Coincidence or no? THOUGHTS?? Take into account the many references to Ghilan’nain in DAI, especially the halla artwork in Temple of Mythal, hart statues in the temple’s crypts, as well as the massive hart statues featuring in the break up scene in Crestwood. 

Yes, Flemeth has moved many times in her past and there are many old ruins in the Wilds which are never even confirmed to be elven (instead they are described as ”Tevinter” in origin but I have many doubts). 

But seriously, why would Flemeth set up shop in front of a broken Ghilan’nain statue, considering all the significance statues represent to the evanuris?

Broken statue of the shield woman in the Brecilian ruins - funnily enough, totally separate from the Andruil/Sylaise/Ghilan’nain statues.

===

The main reason I’m pointing all of this out is because I really think this woman with shield statue is depicting Mythal, carved in the same style as the other elven goddesses. The fact that the game never confirms who this woman is strange to me. 

I mean, yes there are random human made statues in the Brecilian ruins too, which are never elaborated on either, and muddies everything. Statues are also reused a lot in DAO, so it’s harder to extract convincing clues from the environments without a whole lot of assumptions and what ifs. And yet....

Mythal is often described as the “Protector”, and her role is underscored many times in various codices throughout the games with her role as judge, jury, and/or executor. I think the shield fits this perceived role really well, and the fact that this statue is in the exact same style as the other elven goddesses indicates this shield statue is also depicting another elven goddess. The only elven goddess who does not have a confirmed statue representing her in DAO is Mythal.

I’ve had this hunch for a while, but doing the circle tower quest and realising the placement of the statues and the way the flesh is growing over them made me wonder how much of the story they actually planned for future games, and if the environmental design paints a bigger picture of the veil being fully destroyed, or even play a part in foreshadowing Mythal’s own backstory.

The fleshy overgrowth in the tower was obviously done deliberately to evoke a sense of horror and disgust, but the thing that gets me is how similar the imagery of the fleshy sacs are to the teaser image for DA4.

Granted, these are WIP images so we have to take them with a grain of salt. However, if these statues do in fact depict Mythal, isn’t it kinda symbolic that these overgrowths are quite aggressively overtaking the four statues in the center of the room? Only one of the statues has an intact head, and one of the statues even has it’s entire head consumed by a flesh sac.

DA4 will most likely feature a lot of demons and abominations since it seems more likely we will see the veil being destroyed, so perhaps this is a little precursor for what’s to come. 

However, I’m more interested in whether this set design is in fact foreshadowing Mythal’s own corruption, betrayal, or death.

What do you think ? Thoughts on the statues? The symbolism? Am I overanalysing thing? (lol) So much of the lore is deliberately vague in DAO but we also know they planned SO MUCH for the future. I just can’t believe this is random coincidence or a design afterthought...

[ourdawncomes]

@skyheld​ asked: What were their living arrangements in Haven (and in Skyhold if you've thought of any changes to the in-game quarters) for Thora!

Living space was tight in Haven, and although being Herald afforded her some privilege, she did share her room. Her first roommate was her cousin, Cadri, who was allowed to remain at Thora’s side by Leliana. Given the threats on her life and the remaining disdain for her supposed role in the Divine’s death, having someone she trusted with her helped her rest easy. Her other roommates were Leliana’s agents, vetted and often absent, although there always seemed to be one around to keep watch at night.

She had very little in the way of personal belongings at Haven, anything not on her person was destroyed by the Breach. From her unconscious body Cassandra recovers a handwritten book containing highlights from the Noladar Anthology of Dwarven Poetry, a half-written report addressed to the Dasher that was interrupted by the beginning of Corypheus’ ritual, a Carta dagger, and a change of clothes. Everything save the report to the Dasher was returned to her when she awoke. Her bedside table never got much more crowded than that, either. She was afraid to own things in Haven, and perhaps rightly so. Though in Val Royeaux she did collect a few more books, eventually lost when Corypheus attacked (the Anthology survived, albeit damaged, because it apparently has the same luck she does). Thora spent very little time in her room in Haven, not liking the idea of people knowing she was in there, and so tended to occupy her time with everything from work to getting to know the people around her.

As for Skyhold, it does very much resemble the one we see in-game. You can see an edit I made of it from her game here. The most important thing to note about Thora’s quarters in Skyhold is that it’s all built to accommodate her. The settee, the bed, the desk, are all made with a dwarf in mind. Her bed’s design is dwarven, albeit with feathers instead of rocks as a mattress. Furniture like the book shelf comes with a ladder to reach high shelves. She likes to entertain friends (she’s not sure why else she’d need such a big room) and she does wring her hands about her furniture being comfortable, but most of her company don’t seem to mind-- or are at least too polite to say anything.

Her decoration lacks some of the details we see in Inquisition. She doesn’t play any instruments nor are there any banners in sight. She keeps the weird owl statue, she’s not really sure what else to do with it. Thora asks Solas for a mural in the style of the ones he draws in the rotunda, which substitutes the generic one that’s painted over the bed. She asks for something that history likely won’t remember about them, but that neither of them will forget. Months later, decides upon a stylised depiction of a memory he told her-- the dwarf who stepped, shaking into sunlight for the first time in their lives-- which had moved her to tears. After the events of “The Callback” in Tevinter Nights it’s the only one of his murals that survives. Her choice in stained glass is the Avvar design, as she finds the image of the Frostback Mountains fitting for the view.

In Skyhold she starts to own things, most notable is her personal library. Many are for the purpose of studying, as the game progresses she learns enough about nobility and the arcane to utilise her knowledge as Inquisitor, and she’s a student of language, too. Thora taught herself some ancient dwarven prior to becoming Herald, and continues the pursuit as Inquisitor, later going on to learn Orlesian and Elven, although she’s hardly fluent in the latter two. There is a significant collection of books purchased for her pleasure, however. She finally owns an official, complete edition of the Noladar Anthology, among other dwarven literature she was never able to read in full as a Carta dwarf. There’s a small collection of romance books and history books, ones not necessarily relevant to her duties. She becomes a big reader of Genitivi.

She collects a lot of little things from their travels. These knick-knacks include items like a carving of a nug she bought from one of the Fairbank’s refugees and a rung of necklaces which aren’t useful enough for her to wear into battle but she’s too attached to to pawn. Should anyone in the Inquisition gift her with anything, it will have a place of pride either on her bookshelves, upon the mantle, or on her desk. Examples of this would be small paintings Solas has done (her favourite is one of her war nug, Moroc, and Solas’ hart) and Cole likes to leave flowers which she sometimes presses. Small signs of those she’s closest to in the Inquisition can be spotted in her quarters, be it Cadri’s empty mugs or (after the events of the main game) red wolf hairs courtesy of Ian.

In short, Thora makes a home of her room in Skyhold in ways she doesn’t in Haven. It’s really the first room she’s ever had, and she makes the most of it.

[kitbug]

Dragon Age OCs

DRAGON AGE ORIGINS

Senga Mahariel

Origin: Dalish elf Age: 19 (at Joining) Height: 5′6″ Class: Rogue / Ranger Love Interest: Alistair Theirin

Mini-bio: Orphaned shortly after birth, she was raised by Ashalle in Clan Sabrae.  Because of her status as the former Keeper’s daughter and finally filling Ashalle’s desire for a child to raise, she was more than a little spoiled.  Her best friend, Tamlen, grew up along side her and their friendship gradually blossomed into young love. 

When they stumbled onto the tainted mirror in a cave one day, she was torn from her life and forced to join the Grey Wardens.  She never wanted any of this, and is very resentful and reluctant until she grows into the new life she’d been thrust into.

DRAGON AGE 2

Olivier Hawke

Age: 25 (during 1st Act) Hawketype: Purple with a dash of Red Height: 5′9″ Class: Warrior (sword and shield) Love Interest: Isabela

Mini-bio: Oldest of the three Hawke children, Olivier feels responsible for everyone and everything.  Her mother’s confidant and her father and sister’s quiet security, she was forced to grow up too fast.  Joining the army to keep her family safe from the Blight was only natural. 

Family is and always has been her most important priority, whether it’s her slowly dwindling blood family or her quickly growing found family in Kirkwall.  She would do literally anything, up to and including murder, to keep her family safe and together.

She’s quick-witted and smarter than she tends to let on, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself for her family’s sake.  Fame, or infamy in some cases, always seemed to find her regardless.  She buries all of her insecurities behind a solid brick wall of humor and sarcasm that very few people are able to penetrate.

DRAGON AGE INQUISITION

Orensia (Ren) Lavellan

Age: 32 (at the Conclave) Height: 5′2″ Class: Rogue / Assassin Love Interest: Solas and/or Cullen  (idk man, it’s complicated.  i’m still figuring shit out.) Mini-bio: Born to a pair of elven merchants in Starkhaven, her family was never well-off but they very rarely went hungry.  Her father was a leathercrafter and her mother managed the business.  When she was about ten years old, her family waas traveling to Markham for a festival to sell their goods at when they were attacked by bandits.  Her parents were killed and she was very badly wounded when she resisted their attempts to take her alive to sell.  Nearby Dalish scouts heard the attack and arrived in time to slay the bandits and take her back to their Keeper for healing.

She was adopted into Clan Lavellan shortly after, and adjusted well to life in the wilderness.  She took to scouting and helping with the halla herds.  One time while scouting, she found an orphaned hart fawn and raised it herself as a mount.  Eventually she became the lead scout for Clan Lavellan and also led most of their trading with human settlements, having much more experience with humans than anyone else in the Clan.

When news of the Conclave arrived to the Free Marches, the Keeper asked Ren to go to the meeting and bring back information regarding how the humans planned to deal with mages in the future, in case they decided to also deal with Dalish mages.  She got lost in the Temple of Sacred Ashes sneaking in through a partially collapsed tunnel, and stumbled onto Corypheus’ ritual.

kitbug why are all your Dragon Age characters dual-wielding rogues??? BECAUSE THAT’S HOW I MOTHERFUCKING ROLL. i just don’t have fun playing other classes sooooooo yeah.  we’re all rogues here.

[thebookworm0001]

There are fen’harel statues near some imagery or temple of nearly every elven god in dai (hart statues, owl statues, sylaise’s shrine, dragon statues, temples of mythal and dirthamen) but I cannot for the life of me remember any connection to Elgar’nan or June

[elvensemi]

Hi, I know it’s been a few days but would you possibly still answer about the OC ask meme? 1,9,12,15,18,19,23,25 for Belassan? I definitely understand if you don’t have the time for all of them, just answer what you want to! Thank you!

1: What’s your OC’s biggest insecurity and how would they react if someone pointed it out to them?

Belassan’s biggest insecurity is probably his tattoos/very visible status as an ex-Dalish. Fortunately for him people point it out like every fuckin day so he’s had plenty of time to get used to it, huh? XD Or, perhaps the related fact that he can’t actually read/speak much if any Elven despite the fact people keep assuming he can just because he’s Dalish. 

9: Does your OC feel a pressure to achieve or are they content and calm with doing what they can at the moment?

Belassan is okay with where he is right now. He does sometimes feel restless, but being with the harts and having a few people to talk to helps. 

12: What is one of the most primary things your OC feels that is missing from their life?

Companionship. 

15: Does your OC consider themselves a good person?

Yeah, for the most part. Like, he doesn’t consider himself a BAD person… He sees himself as someone trying to be good, even if he feels like he fucks up sometimes. At the very least, he sees himself as a better person than most other people he’s met, even if he’s not sure he lives up to his own standards. 

23: Does your OC tend to hide something about their personality/essence when meeting new people? If yes, what?

Belassan is aggressively cheerful to people he’s just met, regardless of how they’re treating him. It’s a very successful defense mechanism that even managed to win over Emma: Ice Queen. 

25: How would your OC process the grief caused by the death of a loved one?

He’s had to process a lot of grief in his life, so he’s gotten accustomed to it. Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have any loved ones left to lose, so it’s a moot point at the moment. 

[former-shootingstvr]

𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝟐/𝟑

this is a tamaran’s map. this planet is 40% water 5% ice, the rest is land.

this map marks all the cities, ruins and castles; also marks the seas

(here for the biggest image)

the fortress of the linch prince  is in tamarus (the capital) also known as the thousand spires of stefield. the fortress is actually a ruined area, the tykayl family (ruler family of tamaran) lived at the palace ward.

tamarus has a population of 7 000 000 approximately. ad some important places are the overgrown abbey ruins, said to lie atop catacombs filled with long-forgotten treasures and zdara’s smithy, cluttered blacksmith’s workshop, built atop an outcrop of volcanic rock.

other places

arcanist’s district

notable places

the honest merchant: the shop of a female scroll merchant named marger, within which a magical spell prevents lies and falsehoods from being spoken.

linka’s masonry: the workshop of a female stonemason named linka, who is rumored to have arranged the murder of the previous guildmaster.

the astral theatre: a large half-timbered theatre, said to be built upon the ground where a sidhe noble was betrayed and murdered.

arcanist’s ward

notable places

the thirsty maiden: a modest elven tavern, which serves only cider.

archscepter district

notable places

the guildhall: a grand timber and brick building, once an aristocrat’s manor. it contains a large meeting hall and several smaller rooms, and is shared amongst several local merchant guilds.

the war merchant: the cluttered shop of a male weapon merchant named wromir, known for his collection of strange and exotic blades. It is rumored that the weapons are those of fallen warriors, stolen from distant battlefields by dark magic.

armorer’s borough

notable places

zealot’s corner: zealots and madmen can often be encountered here, shouting their rambling dogmas at bemused passers-by.

the wand of fire: a shabby inn, which serves only brandy.

artist’s farthing

notable places

brada’s masonry: a modest stonemason’s workshop, built within a ring of ancient stone monoliths.

brightthrone borough

notable places

rada’s woodwork: a modest woodcarver’s workshop, carved out of the trunk of a large oak tree.

the cracked cask: a modest adventurer’s tavern, decorated with dungeon doors.

cathedral carthing

notable places

rosla’s armaments: a large weaponsmith’s workshop, built within the walls of an embattled stone tower.

the asylum: a single storey building of half-timbered walls, filled with the madmen and lunatics of the town.

cathedral ward

notable places

lava’s smithy: a large blacksmith’s workshop, built within the walls of an old iron tower.

a menhir of polished agate, said to entomb the undead corpse of a witch.

crystalring village

notable places

a weathered temple ruins, said to be haunted by the last priest of a long-forgotten aberrant god.

dale district

notable places

the odeum of byllido: a large timber and brick theatre, known for its dark tragedies.

bragon’s borough

notable places

the cursed spear: a grand elven inn, kept by a brass monster named nidab.

drakesdale district

notable places

the eye of igim: an ancient bronze statue of a male warrior with the head of a falcon. it is said that anyone who sacrifices one of their own eyes before the statue can see and speak with death until the next dawn.

mira’s forge: a cluttered blacksmith’s workshop, built around a shrine of lova, lady of fire.

the asylum: a single storey stone-walled building, filled with the madmen and lunatics of the town.

greater demon’s village

notable places

the wizards guild house: a two-storey tower hewn from an outcrop of rock, guarded by an iron golem.

the courthouse: a grand stone-walled building, filled with pompous magistrates and advocates.

the shrine of mlata: a stone lantern enshrining the flame of mlata, goddess of trickery, said to bestow favor to those who leave an offering.

hart’s district

notable places

zluska’s armaments: the workshop of a female weaponsmith named zluska, who was once an adventurer, but retired after her companions were turned in dust.

highorb borough

notable places

the buzzing tower: an abandoned stone-walled tower, which has become infested by a colony of giant bees.

hydra’s district

notable places

the silver shrine: a wondrous obelisk of bright silver, said to be a magical portal to the moon.

zlavoi’s anvil: the workshop of a male blacksmith named zlavoi, who has been purchasing much more raw iron than usual.

gedyye’s anvil: the workshop of a male blacksmith named gedyye, who was once the best weaponsmith in the kingdom.

hydra’s village

notable places

a statue of polished stone, placed to mark the battle of novola.

the barracks: a buttressed stone-walled building, a station of the town guard. It adjoins a small gaol used to detain thieves and scofflaws.

mastiff’s district

notable places

zdiko’s masonry: the workshop of a male stonemason named zdiko, known for his knowledge of dwarven runes and glyphs.

the theatre of astos: a large theatre of stone walls, home of a female named enhild and her trained owlbear.

varra’s forge: the workshop of a female blacksmith named varra, known for her collection of magical hammers.

moor district

notable places

a ruined tower of rotting stone walls, which appears restored upon the night of the solstice.

the overgrown ruins of a small castle, which appears restored upon the night of the full moon.

leko’s woodwork: a cluttered woodcarver’s workshop, built within a copse of oaken trees.

palace ward

notable places

the broken dagger: a shabby adventurer’s inn, said to be haunted by the ghost of a silver dragon.

ravensgrove farthing

notable places

the athenaeum of coria: a venerable school of witches and wizards, built within an ancient tower of rune-carved stone.

rogue’s ward

notable places

the guildhall: an impressive stone-walled building, once an aristocrat’s manor. It contains a large meeting hall and several smaller rooms, and is shared amongst several local trade guilds.

Scepter District

notable places

lavoi’s anvil: a modest blacksmith’s workshop, built atop an outcrop of volcanic rock.

scholar’s borough

notable places

the wench’s cup: a modest commoner’s inn, built around a hewn stone impaled by a sword.

south merchant’s district

notable places

the cock’s house: a fanciful wizards tavern, kept by a bronze dragon named acenkit.

the jade runestone: a broken menhir of green jade, engraved with fey runes. It is said that any child born within a league of the stone upon the night of the new moon will live a charmed life.

shieldhome: a single storey timber and brick building, the home of a male explorer named braha. Its walls are covered with shields, said to be those of the warriors slain by the dragon milka. it is also said that the dragon’s hoard still lies buried beneath the building.

Tome District

notable places

nimrellye’s pottery: the workshop of a female human potter named nimrellye, who was once a great wizard, but retired to marry and raise a family.

the red mace: a neglected adventurer’s inn, built within what was once an aristocrat’s manor.

the odeum of comets: a two-storey timber and brick theatre, home of a male human vojta and his troupe of trained lizards.

tome village

notable places

the guildhall: a grand stone-walled building, once a minor temple. it contains a large meeting hall and several smaller rooms, and is shared amongst several local merchant guilds.

upper armorer’s village

notable places

the wainwrights guild house: an ornate timber and brick building, decorated with wrought-iron lamps.

the demon and hound: a modest tavern, decorated with stained glass windows.

upper hart’s farthing

notable places

an obelisk of hewn crystal, said to entomb a relic of x’hal, goddess of peace.

hell’s close: a narrow alley which ends at the broken ruins of a warlock’s tower. anyone walking towards the ruins becomes enveloped by phantasmal shadows.

west feydale borough

notable places

the coliseum: a large semi-circular amphitheatre, designed to host all types of competitions such as the glass games or the two moons race.**

boska’s armaments: a large weaponsmith’s workshop, decorated with a collection of sundered shields.

whitebrook district

notable places

goladir’s folly: a spire of quartz stands upon a rise in the land. It was built by an eccentric aristocrat named goladir many years ago, for no apparent purpose.

the theatre of cynusos: a grand stone-walled theatre, known for its fiery draconic operas.

the pavilion of basosop: a grand half-timbered theatre, said to be haunted by the ghost of a minstrel.

* this was created on a 90% by the site https://donjon.bin.sh/ and the 10% by me.

** taken from titans S02 E09

[findsarahh]

As the Moon Rises

Chapter 12

Summary: Isera Lavellan was sent to her brother, the Inquisitor, at the urging of their mother. The world is changing and Isera needs to be there to help.

Solas x F!Lavellan.

[Ch1] [Ch2] [Ch3] [Ch4] [Ch5] [Ch6] [Ch7] [Ch8] [Ch9] [Ch10] [Ch11] [Ch12]

Isera hears the chattering of the voices around her. Her mind feels heavy like something is weighing it down. The voices from the Well make it challenging to think and process information, let alone hear her own voice.

Isera tries to force her heavy lidded eyes to open. Real. The voices she hears are from her environment rather inside of her head. Isera groans in pain. The voices in her head are unobtrusive at the moment.

Isera’s eyes flutter open as she tries to maintain an awareness of her surroundings. Through blurred vision, Isera realizes that she has sustained her vision thus far. She is in the Inquisitor’s room.

“Isera?” Her brother calls, his hand clutches hers. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?” He is standing next to her, eyes filled with concern.

Isera nods as she looks at him. “Okay, I think. How long have I been asleep?” Isera yawns as she tries to sit up. Her body feels weak, her arms struggling to support the movements.

“Two days.” Solas. Isera recognizes his voice. She blinks rapidly as she looks for him.

He is standing at the foot of the bed. Isera glances up at him. His face is unreadable as he stares down at her. After a moment, a small yet caring smile appears on his face.

Banreas stands up. “I’m sorry…I just came to check in; I’m in between meetings.” Banreas tells her as he leans down to kiss the top of her head. “I’ll have the servants send up tea and those frilly cakes you like.”

Isera nods wordlessly as Banreas leaves the room.

Solas moves to sit closer to her, staring intently at her. “How are you feeling?” he questions as he takes her hand into his.

Her body feels heavy, and her mind is foggy. “Groggy,” Isera replies with a smile as she squeezes his hand. Overall, she appears fine, given recent events.

She watches as his body becomes tense. He shoulders are pulled back, his blue-gray eyes narrow with irritation. “I begged you not to drink from the Well. Why could you not have listened?” His voice is harsh and distressed. The grip of his hand is tight around her fingers as he presses harder.

“Solas…” Isera murmurs. He’s upset that she didn’t listen to him.

He shakes his head as he looks down. “You gave yourself into the service of an ancient elven god!” He appears incredibly disappointed with her.

Isera is absorbing his words. “Meaning…?” She finally caves, allowing him to explain to her what he believes to have happened.

For her, it does not matter. Her role is to assist her brother—if that meant drinking from a magically based source with unknown effects to defeat an enemy, then that is what she would do—what she did do. This action has affected Solas to the extent that Isera does not understand.

He grimaces. “You are Mythal’s creature now.” He whispers. “Whatever you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her.” He pauses. “You have given up a part of yourself.” His sounds…broken at that idea. Isera watches the anger fade to sadness and concern.

Isera scoffs, shaking her head. “We don’t even believe in the Gods!” His emotions feel unjustified and misplaced. The Gods, even if they did exist, no longer live. The creation of the power and who it theoretically would be linked to is moot.

His eyebrows come together as he glares at her. “I don’t believe they were gods.” He argues. “But I believe that they existed. Something existed to start the legends. If not gods, then mages…or spirits…or something we’ve never seen. And you are bound to one of them of them now.” He concludes. He implies that his argument is straightforward and obvious.

Solas sighs, his face softens. “I suppose it’s better that you have the power rather than Corypheus.” He looks down then back up at her with a slightly hopeful look on his face.

“What will you do with the power of the Well once Corypheus is dead?” He questions.

Isera feels overwhelmed at the sudden change in emotions. She hesitates before answering. “I will help with the change. The world will be unable to return to what was normal before the Mage and Templar War and the Breach. The only way to go now is forward.” She answers as thoughtfully as she can.

He continues to stare, his eyes unmoving upon hers. “You’d risk everything that you have in the hope that everything is the future is better? What if it isn’t?” He’s glowering at her, awaiting her response. She feels the intensity of his stare as she casts her eyes down. “What if you wake up and realize the future you shaped is worse than what was?” He continues.

Isera freezes at the intensity of his emotions. She feels that his emotions are out of place, but does not question him.

She rubs her lips together. “I am surrounded by allies and friends. I would seek out those I knew to try again, of course.” Her answer is simple.

He looks bewildered with her response. “Just…like that?” he says. He leans back at the idea she suggested.

Isera nods. “Well, if we don’t try then we won’t be able to make things right.”

He leans back, eyes still fixated on her. The look in his eyes appears to be relieved to hear her response. “You are right. Thank you.” He tells her. His hand is still laced with hers, almost painfully so.

Isera looks at him with confusion. “Okay…but for what?” She asks. Isera concludes he is acting strangely. She knows him for being passionate about history and legend—but this feels different than his usual argumentative nature.

“You have...impressed me.” He answers. “You offered hope that if one keeps trying, even if the consequences are grave, that someday things will be better.” He smiles and appears vindicated in his thoughts.

Isera stares at him oddly. What is he talking about? Isera thinks.

Solas looks down in thought. “Forgive my melancholy. Corypheus has cost us much. The Temple of Mythal did not deserve such a fate. The orb he carries, that at least may be recovered. The past may yet survive.” He tells her.

Isera eyes him with discomfort. “You are being grim and fatalistic in hopes of getting me into bed, aren’t you?” She jokes with a rigid grin. She resorts to humor to change the subject.

He chuckles. “I am grim and fatalistic. Getting you into bed is just an enjoyable side benefit.” He replies with a slight grin. Isera looks at him in surprise before giggling.

Suddenly, Solas is standing up, attempting to pull Isera out of bed. “Come with me, vehnan.” He demands, gently pulling at her hand.

Isera scowls and shakes her head no. “Oh, no, no, no.” She snaps.  “There is a servant about to come up those steps any moment now. I am not leaving until I have my tea and frilly cakes.” She tells him.

Isera watches as Solas looks down at her in surprise, obviously not expecting for her to say no. His cheery demeanor pauses for a moment.

Isera gives a sarcastic chuckle. “Trying to tell me what to do when frilly cakes are involved. Sit back down, now.” She mutters to herself.

“After you tell me what has happened in the last two days and I have ` one cup of tea and a good portion of frilly cakes, then we can leave.” She orders him to sit down.

Solas pauses, almost confused at her demand. Then he smiles at her. “My apologies. I will ensure you have had your full of frilly cakes.” He tells her.

---

Solas and Isera traverse into a small cavern that is illuminated by the soft moonlight. She stares up at the grand statues of Dalish Harts that are covered in green and herbaceous vegetation. Isera takes her time as they walk, focusing at the fresh, dewy green grass, graveled gray, dark stone, and the stars in the sky. She is nervous, wondering if she blinks too much or too little, will her vision become gray once more?

Regardless, she can still see the Veil pressing upon the world. It is like a stool of glittering, translucent, gossamer fabric that is cast over an object. There a gentle sparkle laced over the world.

Isera feels protected with him.  Solas has an ability to draw her in with his insatiable curiosity, desire to learn, and share knowledge. By no means is he perfect. She had listened to him become condescending to those who did not wish to hear his thought and made unfavorable comments against others.

Nevertheless, he is rough around the edge, but passionate and caring. With proper guidance, he made strides in an attempt understand others—to view them more than the stereotypes. She can sense that he feels deeply—Isera feels like she could drown in him.

She smiles at her own thoughts as they come to a stop by the water’s edge.

“The Veil is thin here. Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?” He asks with a small smile. Isera nods, looking around.

“I can see it, too.” She replies with a grin as she looks up at him. His hand brushes against her cheek. She leans her head into his hand. Isera looks up at him—her heart feels swollen and warm, it is almost hard to breathe. She is happy with him.

Solas is gazing at her, a smile on his face as he analyzes her features. “I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me.” He pulls his hands back, letting them trace her shoulders and arms traveling to her hands.

“I can offer a few suggestions,” Isera replies coyly, adding pressure her grip.

He chuckles, his eyes darting between her eyes and lips. “I’ll bear that in mind.” He says, pausing before continuing. “For now, the best gift that I can offer is…the truth.”

Isera stares up at him earnestly, yet confused by his statement. She does not know what he means.

“You are unique. In all of Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me, more important than I could have imagined.” He begins, his nerves showing through the slight changes in his voice.

She smiles. “As you are to me,” She responds, still waiting for his admission.

He looks down before making eye contact once more. “Then what I must tell you…the truth.” There is a slight frown on his face.

Isera maintains her guarded smile unaware of what he might mean. He's dramatic! She thinks.

He looks away again, his eyes darting back and forth.

“You care greatly for the elven people, and for your brother.” He states. His voice is smooth at this statement. Isera’s eyes narrow in confusion at his proclamation but does not interrupt him.

“The vallaslin …I have seen them in my journeys into the Fade. I have discovered what those marks mean.”

Isera stares at him, extremely confused to why he is bringing up the vallaslin, even though she is not marked with the Dalish markings. His voice feels awkward despite projecting confidence.

“Our People use them to show honor for the Gods.” She answers her voice monotone.

He shakes his head. “No. They are slave markings, or at least, they were in the time of ancient Arlathan.” He tells her.

Isera frowns in denial. “The Keepers shared that those markings honor the Gods. They are symbols of rebellion and hope to the people. We are the last of the Elhven. Never again shall we submit.”

Solas agrees. “That is only partially right. A noble would mark his slaves to honor the god he worshiped. After Arlathan fell. The Dalish forgot.” His voice is quieter than his usual pride damnation of the Dalish.

Isera looks down, shaking her head. “No-that doesn’t—how did we…we couldn’t have forgotten. We…were no better than Tevinter?” She mutters out.

“I’m sorry.”

Isera takes a deep breath, withholding the desire to cry. She straddles the worlds of knife-ear and flat-ear, never fitting into both. She had been raised apart from the Dalish by a Dalish Keeper, but away from the Alienage of the cities.

She’s a facade for both elven worlds. Too Dalish for the Alienage and too city elf for the Dalish.  Isera grew up on stories and legend, in search of the history of her people as commanded by her mother. Isera has walked the path of the city elf, the trials of an elven mage, and the trails of the Dalish—but none of these are her.

There are no writings about slave markings in elven history.

“We try to preserve our culture. And what we preserve are slave markings? We might as well be Tevinter.” Isera sighs, her voice shaking in defeat.

Solas reaches for her shoulders, holding them tight. “Don’t say that.” He commands. “For all they got wrong, the Dalish did one thing right. They made you.” His smile is soft and sweet. “I didn’t tell you this to hurt you.”

He pauses in thought. “I can teach you a spell. You can have the ability to fix what the Dalish forgot.”

She is tearful as she stares up at him. “How do you convince someone the sky isn’t blue?” she jokes. The saying she told him when he shared his story about his experience with the Dalish. The Dalish cling tightly to the remnants of what little history they have possessed. The vallaslin, in the Dalish minds, honor the Gods who are trapped in the Beyond.

Regardless of what they meant in ancient times, would the Dalish be willing to have their beliefs challenged by her?

His fingers are under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. “I am sorry for causing you pain. It was selfish of me. I look at you and see what you truly are…” He pauses, his eyes flickering down. “…you have passion for preserving the past and to learn more. You can show the Dalish what the markings truly represent.”

Her head is spinning with information—something is off. She doesn’t understand why he thinks this information is important, but it is, in some way?

“Then teach me.” She finally responds feel obligated to do so.

“Come, sit.” He guides her gently, leading her to the edge of the water.

The spell he shows her is simple. He practices the movements with her until she completed them correctly on her own. Solas teaches her the chant of the spell until she pronounces every word correctly.

He practices on her one more time—his hands glide over her face as if he would be removing the vallaslin. He drops his hands, staring into her eyes. “You are so beautiful.” He murmurs. Isera smiles and laces her fingers into the leather strap of his necklace. He pulls her closer as he leans down to kiss her.

The kiss is soft and gentle. His arms wrap around her waist, pulling her closer as she pulls on his necklace. His finger traced down her spine, and resting on her backside. He gently squeezes her ass as he lifts her into his lap. Isera moves too hastily, and Solas is thrown off-balance, landing on his back.

Isera gasps in surprise as she straddles him. “I’m so sorry!” She laughs. She kisses him on the nose before sliding off of him.

He stands, assisting Isera to her feet. He is smiling at her—she feels like she is being consumed by his gaze.

Suddenly, he pulls away. His face contorts from being relaxed and content to concerned. “And I am sorry. I have distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again.” His voice is hard, yet broken.

Isera leans back in surprise and confusion. His face hardens as he steps further back, away from her.

“Solas…” She whispers as she reaches to pull him closer. He evades her grasps.

“Please, vhenan.” He almost sounds like he is begging her.

Isera looks around, almost in a daze after his declaration. “I don’t understand…” She tells him.

“Please, you have to trust me.”

Isera looks around in a panic, looking at everything and nothing at the same time. This doesn’t make sense. She feels pulled apart from her body, an outside observer watching their interactions. He’s supposed to tell her that he loves her.

“Tell me you don’t care.” She whispers as she finally looks him in the eye.

“I can’t.”

With every step closer to him, he takes a step away from her. “Tell me that you didn’t mean anything that you said. Tell me that I was a casual dalliance. Tell me, vhenan.” Her face contorts in anger, but her voice is broken, showing her pain and sorrow.

“I’m sorry…” He whispers. “I didn’t—” He coughs, turning away. “We should get going.”

Isera stares at him in disbelief. “You didn’t—what? Oh, wait, you aren’t going to tell me are you?” She shouts as tears begin to form in her eyes. He bows his head in shame.

Isera barks out a pathetic laugh. “Go ahead. I’ll find another way back.” She tells him.

“Isera…” he pleads.

She turns away from him so he cannot see the tears beginning to stream down her face. She chokes back a spoke as she cast a spell. A gulf of white-blue smoke surrounds her.

He watches as a raven shoots out of the magical residue and into the sky leaving him alone with his thoughts.

[katalyna-rose]

Vhenan

I rewrote it. It’s so much better now... Read it please! Chapters go up as I finish their rewrites. The original version has been removed, not sorry.

Graphic Depictions of Violence

Solas/Female Lavellan, Fenris/Female Mage Hawke, Zevrain/Female Warden Mahariel

AKA: Lyna/Solas, Fenris/Alie, Zevran/Kahlia

Angst, Fluff, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Post-Canon, Mildly Conon-Divergent, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Minor Isablea/Merrill, Constructive Criticism Welcome

Summary: Solas, the Dread Wolf Fen'Harel, has left Lyna behind in an attempt to fix mistakes made thousands of years ago. Willing to destroy everything for his goals, he doesn't realize exactly how determined Lyna is to show him a better path. Both worlds could thrive, given the chance. Her world is real and valid and deserves a chance, but so does his. There must be a middle ground.

And there is another reason that Lyna must find Solas, a secret kept from the world that attempted to put her up on a pedestal. But how would Thedas react to such a secret, such undeniable proof that their Herald of Andraste is a person like any other? That she is someone who loves, someone who makes mistakes, who bleeds and cries. And is having the Dread Wolf's child.

Read on AO3!

Chapter One: A Well of Hope

“I begged you not to drink from the Well!” Solas all but yelled, startlingly angry, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Why could you not have listened?”

“Solas…” Lyna said as calmly as she could manage, hoping to soothe him, though she’d never before been the subject of his wrath.

“You gave yourself into the service of an ancient elven god!” He paced before his latest mural, the blue pigment of the Well of Sorrows reflecting the light of the nearby torch.

She frowned, confused by his wording, wanting, as always, to understand. “What does that mean, exactly?” she asked softly.

He seemed to crumple, a deep sigh leaving him, his anger bleeding into resignation as he said, “You are Mythal’s creature now. Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her.” He stopped and sighed again as he faced her, resignation blending into sorrow that she didn’t understand. “You have given up a part of yourself.”

Ridiculous. She scowled at him, feeling her own temper surge unexpectedly. “You don’t even believe in the ancient elven gods!” His lips thinned as his jaw clenched, anger resurfacing.

“I don’t believe they were gods, no, but I believe that they existed! Something existed to start the legends! If not gods then mages, or spirits, or something we’ve never seen.” He leaned forward aggressively, punctuating his words with a savage gesture. “And you are bound to one of them now.”

Solas stopped abruptly and looked away from her, breathing deeply in an attempt to reign in his temper. Lyna frowned, watching, concerned about him more than she was about herself; she’d never seen him this upset. Mostly, he held himself aloof, calmly observing the world around him without seeming to be a part of it. The little scar on his forehead was being pulled out of shape by his scowl, and she wanted nothing more than to smooth it out and kiss away his fears. But she knew he wouldn’t let her, that he’d pull away and become even more unreachable than before.

He took a deep breath before continuing. “I suppose it is better you have the power than Corypheus.” He met her eyes with an intensity she hadn’t seen before. “Which leads to the next logical question: What will you do with the power of the Well once Corypheus is dead?”

“The war proved that we can’t go back to the way things were,” she told him, thinking of the many dead bodies they’d seen, slain by mages or Templars or caught in between, those left homeless and hungry, those the Inquisition couldn’t save. She even mourned those who had gone rogue, the red Templars and the Venatori; surely somewhere in history if someone had made a different choice they wouldn’t have felt the need to commit the crimes they stood accused of. “I’ll try to help this world move forward,” she said with conviction. Surely something she knew or had seen or had learned from the Well of Sorrows could offer a solution, or part of one.

“You would risk everything you have in the hope that the future is better? What if it isn’t?” Solas asked, strangely intense, as if her answer meant more to him than the question implied. “What if you wake up to find the future you shaped is worse than what was?”

Lyna frowned, trying to read him, to figure him out, and, as ever, coming up empty. “I’ll take a breath, see where things went wrong, and then try again,” she told him.

“Just like that?” he asked, almost incredulous. She smiled a little.

“If we don’t keep trying, we’ll never get it right,” she reminded him.

He returned the smile, suddenly not nearly so upset. The stiff set of his shoulders softened. “You’re right. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You have not been what I expected, Inquisitor.” He paused at her sharp look and amended his statement with a purr, “Lyna. You have… impressed me,” he told her, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And she felt like all the breath had been knocked out of her lungs. She impressed him? She was just a Dalish girl, thrown into the middle of these events by chance. She wasn’t nearly as interesting or impressive as he was. Though he had praised her intelligence and willingness to learn on many occasions, calling it a rare gift, she had always thought she could never compare to the spirits of the Fade he’d introduced her to. It was surreal to hear that he thought so highly of her. She knew he loved her and respected her both as a woman and as Inquisitor, but she knew this was something else, knew the standard to which he compared the world. “You have offered hope,” he continued while she blinked at him, “that if one keeps trying, even if the consequences are grace, that someday things will be better.” He looked away again, though a small smile played on his lips. “Forgive my melancholy. Corypheus has cost us much. The Temple of Mythal did not deserve such a fate. The orb he carries, and its stolen power… That, at least, we may still recover. With luck, some of the past may yet survive.”

She decided it was time to jolt him out of this melancholy, as he put it. So she smiled slyly and said, “You’re being grim and fatalistic in hope of getting me into bed, aren’t you?”

His serious expression remained fixed, but his eyes danced. “I am grim and fatalistic,” he told her. Then his expression broke into a warm smile, eyes teasing. “Getting you into bed is just an enjoyable side benefit.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Just?” she asked, teasing. He chuckled, and held out his hand.

“Come with me, vhenan,” he said, suddenly eager. She took his hand with a smile and let him lead her out of the rotunda, then out of Skyhold altogether. He took her down a winding, narrow path she hadn’t traveled before. It wound down the mountain away from the enormous camp where most of the Inquisition’s people lived and worked and trained.

“Where are we going?” Lyna asked after a while, curious. Solas brought her hand, which he still held in his, to his lips and sent her pulse racing with a gentle kiss on her knuckles. He smiled, no doubt sensing the sudden heat he’d sent shooting through her body. Bastard.

“Trust me,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with mischief. She swallowed hard, trying to shove down her arousal, and said nothing else as he led her down what she was becoming increasingly certain was a goat trail.

The pink and orange of sunset was fading when she spied a cave ahead. “I didn’t bring my bow,” she told him redundantly; he could obviously see that she was unarmed except for the small knife that never left her person. He chuckled.

“You won’t need it,” he assured her. “Nothing and no one comes this way except for the goats that made this path and the occasional rabbit.”

“And nothing hunts the goats?” she asked archly. He smiled.

“Nothing a little magic cannot scare away.” She sighed dramatically, and he raised a brow in challenge. She said nothing, keeping her chin high in mocking protest. She had no doubt he could keep them safe, but she still enjoyed needling him. He squeezed her hand, enjoying her efforts.

The cave they entered was very dark, but not dark enough that Solas felt he needed to cast light. Water cascaded down the walls with a musical sound, and instead of seeming creepy and ominous as caves frequently did to Lyna it cast an atmosphere of wonder and soft pleasure.

Solas laced his fingers with hers and bumped her shoulder lightly. She looked at him and he gestured ahead with his chin, so she looked. The cave opened just ahead on a moonlit glen. She gasped when she saw a pair of giant statues to Ghilan’nain facing each other on either side of a small pool fed by three narrow waterfalls, the harts’ antlers reaching up as if they would touch the sky. Elfroot grew at the statues’ feet and the water glittered in the moonlight. The area was walled off naturally by stone, the tops too rocky to allow spies or assassins to go unnoticed. The grass was soft beneath her feet, and the musical waterfalls made her want to dance. The flowers that grew here and there added a sweet scent to the strangely warm breeze. Solas squeezed her hand a little, and she squeezed back, smiling at him. A warm look flowed over his face, heating his gaze, and he led her into the glen. They walked slowly, their clasped hands swinging between them, until he stopped not far from the water’s edge.

“The Veil is thin here,” he said softly, touching her cheek gently and sending delicious shivers through her. Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?” He removed his hand, and warm tingles did indeed take its place. She touched her face, enjoying and unnerved by the unfamiliar sensations, then looked up at him. He was so close, the stars sparkling in his eyes. Just a little closer and she could take his lips before he even realized what she was doing. One corner of his mouth turned up a little, and she knew he saw exactly what she was thinking on her face. She was, after all, staring rather intently at his lips. She tilted her head a little to the exact angle that would be best for a kiss, all but begging him to take it.

Instead, he said, “I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me.” His thumb moved, caressing her wrist as he held her hand a little tighter, almost as if he were nervous. But that seemed silly; Solas was confident in nearly all he did.

Lyna gave him a small smile. “I’m listening,” she told him. “And I can offer a few suggestions.” She stared hard at his mouth again, taking a breath so that her breasts stretched the material of her shirt taught.

A slight blush delicately colored his cheeks, startling her; Solas never blushed. “I shall bear that in mind,” he said, smiling and refusing to show any sign of being flustered. “For now,” he continued as she smirked at him, “the best gift I can offer is… the truth.” He paused for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. “You are unique,” he told her softly, and it was her turn to blush. “In all Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me, more important than I could have imagined.”

His words, spoken softly with an air of simple truth, as if these sentiments were simple facts of life that he could not and would not change, moved her greatly.

“As you are to me,” she told him when he paused, slightly surprised that her voice didn’t waver as her heart pounded in her chest. He smiled, just a little.

“Then what I must tell you… The truth…” he said, and a shadow passed behind his eyes for just a moment, gone almost as soon as it arrived. He paused, breath in his lungs and mouth open to continue, and she waited. When he seemed frozen, she squeezed his hand gently, encouraging him, and he blinked and then continued.

“Your face,” he said at last. “The Vallaslin.” Lyna resisted the urge to touch the slightly raised sacred tattoos on her face. She wore the symbols of Mythal, the Mother and Protector, and had ever since she had come of age. The dark purple lines depicted branches crisscrossing her forehead and cheekbones into her hairline with a line from her mouth spreading down her chin. “In my journeys in the Fade, I have seen things. I have discovered what those marks mean.”

“She frowned, confused. “They honor the elven gods,” she told him, as she had been told since she was old enough to ask.

“No,” Solas said softly, shaking his head. “They are slave markings. Or, at least, they were in the time of ancient Arlathan.”

Lyna took a half step back, her confusion blending into something approaching horror. “My clan’s Keeper said they honored the gods. These are their symbols.” Please be wrong, she thought desperately. Please let this be the one thing he has wrong.

“Yes,” he told her, soft and sad. “That’s right. A noble would mark his slaves to honor the god he worshipped. After Arlathan fell, the Dalish forgot.”

She felt tears gathering and tried to step them. “So this is… what? Just one more thing the Dalish got wrong?” She had learned more about her people with Solas and the Inquisition than she had studying with her Keeper and hahren. She did not doubt his word, had learned long before that he would not say a thing he did not know, without a doubt, to be true, but it sent a knife of pain into her heart. Her people had ever refused to be slaves, to succumb to those who saw them as inferior. They were Dalish because, when the Dales fell, they refused to give in. But this was wrong. Her people should have known.

“I’m sorry,” Solas said, though Lyna wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for her pain, for telling her, or for how much her people were wrong about.

She took a deep, unsteady breath and looked away. “We try to preserve our culture,” she said haltingly, “and this is what we keep? Relics of a time when we were no better than Tevinter?”

With gentle fingers under her chin, he lifted her face so that she would look at him. “Don’t say that,” he told her softly. “For all the Dalish got wrong, they did one thing right.” He smiled, just a little, and it changed his sorrowful and almost guilty look to one of pride. “They made you.” She smiled and gave a watery half laugh. He was just trying to lessen the sting the truth; she knew he didn’t think much of her people and she knew he had just reasons for that. But she had worn slave markings with pride for half her life, had looked on with envy as her clan mates received theirs, and he knew this hurt her.

“I didn’t tell you this to hurt you,” he told her earnestly. She’d known that, of course, that he shared the knowledge simply so that she would know. But the truth was not always kind. “If you like, I know a spell.” Her eyes widened as she guessed where he was headed with this. “I can remove the Vallaslin.” She looked away, and his hand fell away from her face, reluctantly. She took a deep breath and thought about it.

“These marks have been a part of me for so long,” she said slowly. “I don’t know if…”

“I’m so sorry for causing you pain,” he said, and the small hitch in his voice revealed exactly how much her pain affected him. “It was selfish of me.” That got her to look at him. Selfish? He was many things, but selfish? “I look at you and I see what you truly are.” His hand lifted as if he wanted to touch her face again, but he lowered it before he did. She wished he hadn’t; she craved his touch almost like a drug. “And you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent.”

She looked into his eyes and saw with perfect clarity, for the first time, exactly what he felt for her. Though she had known that he cared for her, ar lath ma whispered in her ear on many occasions, the strength of love she saw there in those blue depths was enough to frighten her and make her want to hold him and never let go. His eyes shone with affection and tenderness, and suddenly she felt ridiculous for ever having thought that all his sweet words were not meant with perfect sincerity, with the same intensity that filled every word he said to her. But she was just a woman, Dalish, and her people had been unkind to him. She was only a hunter, her feet firmly in waking though she was slowly learning to shape her dreams. But he was a storyteller of incredible wisdom, and he wielded magic she’d never seen or heard of elsewhere. Coincidence had placed the Anchor on her hand, and necessity had driven her to use it to close the rifts they encountered. Her title of Inquisitor felt more honorary than true to her. She did little without the advice and consent of her advisors and there was so much she had no power to change.

And Solas… He was wise and worldly. He had seen things she could never have dreamed of, had walked the world and the Fade and learned so much more than she could imagine. He was strong and brave, fighting his enemies with a ferocity few could rival. And yet he was compassionate and understanding. He saw his enemies as living people, not merely as obstacles or abstract threats. He had played, and won, an entire game of chess with Iron Bull using neither board nor pieces, only the power of his incredible mind. What could one little Dalish girl be to a man like him?

And yet the truth shone in his eyes. Lyna could be many wonderful things to a man like him, it seemed. And suddenly, with an urgency that nearly staggered her, she wanted it all in a way she had never allowed herself before. She wanted this man before her. She wanted his love and to love him in return. She wanted a life with him. Could that even be possible?

But she had a choice to make, and she would always choose freedom. It was an ideal that was so much a part of her that she had fought against even being claimed by her former lovers, unwilling to tie herself to them. But Solas only ever sought to set her free, and she wanted this. She took a deep breath and said, “Then cast your spell. Take the Vallaslin away.” He smiled, and the love in his eyes shone even brighter, if possible.

Read on AO3!

[takebacktheyuri]

I’m having trouble finding out the exact situation of halla and harts in DA.  By that I mean, phylogenetically.  The codices are muddled and use vague terms like ‘stag’, and the entry for August Ram compares it to a “halla hart”

Are Harts just totally wild halla? Big halla?  Related species/subspecies?  The halla in EP are awfully gracile looking compared to the hart mounts.  The ones in Origins looked a bit more capable of pulling an aravel or carrying a rider.

Also I could swear that “deer” exist in DA universe as well, but it seems halla are considered cervine. 

You see statues of harts anywhere there are elven ruins, but never any wild ones. Only the mounts and that one taxidermy in Halamshiral.  I would think if they were just fairly big halla, or adult males f/ex, you’d see at least a few?

The codices describe them as having antlers.  Harts have mooselike, palmate antlers.  The halla antlers are carved, so do they start out looking like hart antlers?  If they are antlers, they would be recarved yearly as they would shed them.  Unless they are HORNS and don’t shed, in which case they would not be cervine...

[lairofdragonagelore]

Somewhere[DLC Trespasser]: Elven Ruins

These Elven Ruins are a massive, isolated city from the time of Elvhenan. Nothing is known about these ruins; they seem to be ancient and are adorned with a large number of statues and mosaics dedicated to Fen'Harel mostly. In fact it looks like a city in his honour but also a city he protected/guarded. It’s not clear if this is a pocket space or part of Thedas. By the amount of eluvians found in here, one may suspects it was a Nexus of eluvians. 

This are is composed of

Overgrown Path

Gully

Long Bridge

Shrine to the Dread Wolf

[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore]

Overgrown Path and Gully

Through the Darvaarad  we access to this new space. So far we see, it’s an enormous, mysterious elvhen city in the middle of a range of mountains, evidently only accessible through eluvians. It’s not clear if it belongs to the Waking World or a pocket space in the in-between. What stands out from afar is a gigantic eluvian in the middle of the city, which destiny we don’t know.

The city is decorated with many abandoned/decayed mosaics that are almost impossible to distinguish. I assume this gives us the idea that this place belongs to the Waking World, since in any other place it would have been preserved naturally due to the remnants of Fade magic at work [read the section Preservation of the Waking World in Miscellaneous].  After some careful overlapping, I can assure these old, decaying mosaics are Fen’Harel’s. 

It’s curious that the mosaic is presented in the same shape that the gate frames we saw in the Temple of Mythal. They are associated with her dragon shape. Since these mosaics are presented with the same shape, I wonder if this abandoned elven city is an equivalent to a “Temple of Fen’Harel”, but instead of having servants to protect it and take care of it [like Abelas], it was an empty Nexus to offer paths to the People. 

This shape also appears in the big yellow mosaic of most temples. Maybe this kind of shape for temple gates represents “nexus of eluvians”, since the eluvians with some decorations have a similar outline. One may argue that the The Temple of Mythal was not a nexus, but it certainly had a series of eluvians around the Well of Sorrow. 

This place shows elvhenan patterns in all its structures; clearly an elvhenan city in the middle of the mountains, filled with statues of Sitting Fen'Harels and Howling Fen'Harels. The majority of these statues are displayed in pairs, and in positions of “guardian”, not as central figures in any chamber. In general, we have the idea that every corner of this city was watched and protected by Fen’Harel. 

When we reach to this point, having seen the amount of eluvians we did, we begin to suspect this was a Nexus city. So far, we only visited one of these in The Masked Empire, and in that case it was more related to burials and tombs. This place has not shown any sarcophagi or death-related item in all my exploration. 

There are also Elven Archers and Elven hart statues. Again, these statues cannot be strongly associated with the rest of the Evanuris, since I don't think they would show up in a city like this, with such a strong presence of Fen'Harel. Another extremely curious detail of this city: it has no elvhen paintings. I mean, there is none of the paintings already commented in  Nation Art: Elvhen, which usually are present in all the Temples and elvhenan buildings we visited, including the Temple of Mythal. 

At the Gully, we meet Saarath, the ex scholar who became Saarebas as an adult, which letter to Tallis can be read in the Research Tower. Now we find him as a living experiment with lyrium.

Long Bridge

As we keep exploring this confusing and enormous place, we find a single Elven Owl statue along the main bridge of the city [a bridge that only connects two eluvians]

The imposing figure of Howling Fen'Harel statues while the path is guided by  Elven hart statues or Elven Archers.

The path towards Solas is filled with petrified Qunari. 

Cole comments about Solas’ feelings. Again, we are confirmed for n-th time that Solas is not a monster.

Shrine to the Dread Wolf

We reach to a place called “Shrine” to the Dread Wolf, not Temple. Temples and Shrines are both sacred places, but there is some differences between them: 

A shrine often refers to a church or an altar sacred to a saint or a holy person. It is a holy place connected with the life and beliefs of such person. The word shrine often is called as a ‘tomb’ too, so a shrine may also refer to the place where a holy person was buried. The word has attained importance and significance in the historical point of view. It is a more private space.

A temple refers to a sacred place for the believers of any given form of religion. It is a place that the believers accept as the abode of the god. It is a place of more public display.

 There are Howling Fen'Harel statues and Elven Archers all over the shrine, guiding us.

The whole city displays the same banner that we saw in the Temple of Mythal: this brown flag with different points in groups and a flower associated with each group.

We finally reach Solas, seeing a path filled with petrified Qunari. We see he does it without even casting, or seeing; with the same effect that we saw Flemeth displayed when she controlled the Drinker of the Well [The Fade - Flemeth: Part 2].

The same effect is used in his eyes when he stops the Anchor from killing the Inquisitor, giving them time to talk. Things we learn with his last conversation:

He always knew how to control the Anchor because it is his own orb, which accumulated energy. He was only weak from his slumber to do it properly. Now he can because “he is stronger” after the absorption of Mythal’s accumulated power.

He was Solas in the beginning of the days. Fen’Harel is a title that came later, earned as an insult from his enemies [Evanuris] that he took with pride. This title inspired hope in friends and fear in enemies.

This is a parallel/reflection with the Inquisitor, where the legend of the title eats up the person: a title that erases the personal name and attaches a divinity that, it seems, the person has been rejecting since the beginning.

Solas is not like Flemeth, he is not a “piece” of Fen’Harel. He is how he has always been.

He freed his people from slavery of the Evanuris and let them join his resistance.

When the Evanuris “went too far”; he created the Veil and banished them forever.  He doesn’t say how.

The cause for this measure [he says before a suspicious chuckle] was the death of Mythal. We know thanks to the Mural “the Death of a Titan” that there is more to it. But he keeps it as a secret; he wants that knowledge to be forgotten for safety reasons, so nobody else is tempted to use it.

To banish the Evanuris and create the Veil, he had to take part of the elvhen nature and remove it from his people. Elvhen began to age thanks to this process. 

He speaks about Mythal as the best of the Evanuris: she cared for her people, protected them, and was reasonable.

The Evanuris wanted more power so they killed her. This may imply that Mythal had a special nature [like I said in Evanuris, she is the only mosaic that shows a halo behind her head] or she knew about the secret of divinity/power from a Titan's heart, according the mural.

Despite his love for the Fade, Solas created the Veil because there was no other way, since what the Evanuris released was meant to destroy the world. This confirms some of the interpretations of the structure of the World talked in Murals in DAI: Basics, where the Veil seems to contain another darker sphere or a red sphere, with an unknown danger in it.

There is a difference between banishment and death. Apparently Solas implies that the Evanuris cannot be killed. I wonder if this is related to some “effective immortality” similar to the one displayed by Corypheus. When he saw that power at work, he was not surprised of the procedure per se, he even gave us a name for it [effective immortality]. He only seemed surprised that a Magister could use it. We know through Hakkon DLC and via the Avvar that the spirits are reborn after dying but change in the process. The Evanuris may have a similar system, but apparently, they do not change as it is expected from spirits. Maybe because they have this system of effective immortality?

A curious wording: I’m not sure if he speaks of Mythal in particular or the  the Evanuris in general: “The first of my people”. This would represent a small difference in nature between “Solas’ people” and the Evanuris. And what means “first”. First because a magical hierarchy or first because the first alive creatures in the beginning of the world?

Solas explains how the Evanuris turned into Gods: it started with a War [probably the one related to the Titans]. The fear of war breeds a desire for simplicity, for seeings things in black and white. With the end of the war [probably when Elgar’nan and Mythal killed those titans we read in codices and saw in the mural] the generals became respected elders, then kings, and finally Gods.

The Shattered Library was intrinsically tied to the Fade. Many other places tied to Fade were destroyed when he created the Veil.

Solas confirms that the process of quickening that suffered the Elvhen was not due to the presence of humans, but the creation of the Veil. It seems to be that the Veil feeds from the nature of the elves to sustain itself.

Then, Solas explains his time after the creations of the Veil:

He went to slumber, dreaming in the Fade after the creation of the Veil since it had weakened him severely. I like to highlight that Solas always speaks of slumber, and never of Uthenera, even when he met Flemeth.

He woke up a year before the Breach, which means, Solas has been slumbering for millennia. This removes any possibility of seeing Solas as part of any other event in the history of Thedas. He probably may have stayed informed of the events in the Waking World using agents and spirits, since it’s clear he had communication with his agents despite his slumber.

He wants to restore his people to their real nature. This has to do with Solas seeing elves in the present almost like “tranquils”. There is an emphasis that Solas does not see Thedosians as people for this reason, and I cannot avoid linking this situation with the codex Old Elven Writing, where dwarves are considered witless, soulless, and the reason for that may be due to their disconnection to the Fade as well. 

He also explains in other alternative conversations that Skyhold was once his.

We also learn that he instructed his agents to give information to Corypheus to locate the orb. The idea was for him to unlock it and die in the process.

The orb had built up energy while he was slumbering, and he needed a powerful mage to unlock it. He could not do it himself because he was weak, he repeats.

If the plan would have worked as Solas intended, then he would have had the orb and would have used its power to destroy the Veil.

With the Veil gone, it is implied that the Evanuris will be free.

Solas confirms that he was never the romanticised figure that his mosaics in Fen’Harel’s mountain ruins claim him to be. A rebel gets his hands bloody whether they like it or not.

He shares his sadness and frustration of waking up in a world where everyone else feels like a tranquil. He sacrificed the Veil, and the nature of his people, to give them freedom. And the truth is, that he severed them from the Fade. He made them victims of these limitations, suffering ageing and, in the end, a secondary slavery at the hands of Tevinter. Nothing of what he had planned went as he wanted. His people was free from the Evanuris to find new slavers in the Humans and lose so much of their History that they ended up worshipping the original cruel slavers and their tools of slavery.

With a romanced Inquisitor, Solas even feels pain that his name Fen’Harel has become an insult and a curse among the Dalish.

Solas recognises to have used people to reach his goals in his time of a Rebel.

Here, Solas repeats that he is not a monster. He feels he has a duty towards his people to restore them, but knowing that will destroy this world doesn’t make it easier, but he will endure the regret. Until that moment, he wants for the people in Thedas to have a peaceful and comfortable life. That’s why he helped the Inquisition against the Qunari invasion.

Now he controls the network of eluvians. He talks about Felassan as an agent who “failed” in getting the password from Briala, previous owner of the network [which technically is true, although the situation is quite more complex than this as I showed it in The Masked Empire]. Solas ended up overriding the magic in them to take control of the network.

Curiously, the Qunari managed to have access to the network independently, despite the terrible work procedures they displayed when we visited their isle.

More information about this will be in the post called “Solas sharing Lore”.

As a detail, Solas is walking us to an enormous eluvian, which is bigger than then one he was in front of when he absorbed Flemeth.

After that long conversation, we return to the Winter Palace, the Inquisitor loses their hand, and we can decide if the Inquisition is dissolved or continues existing under the command of the Chantry. This is the set up for the next Game DA:D.

[ahrorha]

Flame of Winter

Chapter 25

The forests of the Arbor Wilds were vast, wild and humid. It had been days since they had entered the Wilds in pursuit of Corypheus and his red templars. They were following the trail of burned down camps and traces of ambushes left by Leliana's people in an effort to slow Corypheus down. Finally, after seeing nothing but trees, strange birds and vast fields of mushrooms, there were signs that they were nearing their goal, the Temple of Mythal.

Riding her hart Eirlana was in awe, these forests were old, very old. To her left and right were busted statues, fallen pillars and crumbled walls hidden between the trees and plants. They marked the overgrown and broken road they currently followed. As they saw more and more remnants of elven architecture, she began to realise how vast this complex must have been. She glanced at Solas, who rode next to her. It was strange to think that he probably had once walked these very same roads. It must be hard for him to return here and see everything fallen into ruins.

It had been three weeks since they had left Skyhold, and although it had been hard on her to travel, it had also been good for her. The travelling gave her time to breath, to shake away the nightmares that had occupied her mind. Though the grief and the loss she felt was still raw, it wasn't longer crushing her.

The journey gave her time to think about the things that had happened. She also tried to put the events of the past in the right context. She knew only fragments of the life the Elvhen people had lived in the time of Elvhenan. They were whispers and snippets of memory in the Fade and the things she had learned of Ghi'lan, her teacher. Since her encounter with Falon'Din, her perspective had changed. What once were faint echoes of the past were becoming a reality. The rulers of a world, where magic had been endless, were still alive. They had dominated Thedas as immortal beings and had ruled with absolute power until they vanished.

She knew that the legends and whispers blamed Fen'Harel for the disappearance of the Elvhen Gods and the fall of the Elvhen empire. The stories said that Fen'Harel had locked the Gods away, and retreated to the Fade after his deed was done.

She had always wondered what really had happened back then, but the memories in the Fade were faint and hard to find. Often they were chaotic and fragmented, twisted by fear, anger and desperation. It didn't help either that she had been a slave most of her life. Back then, when she travelled with her Mater, there had always been the pressure of finding something useful to him. She hadn't been able to explore the Fade freely; with her being forcefully thrown in and pulled out of the Fade. It was like she had only seen slivers of a complex story. Echoes of destruction, and memories of desperate elves. Elves that were angry and distraught because their magic was failing or fearful as they suddenly were ageing. She heard their calls of help to their Gods and cursing Fen'Harel for what he had done.

Although she had spent days on end in the Fade as a child, she hadn't grasped her abilities back then. The Fade was her playground, a place where she was safe, a place free of hunger and pain. Only after she had met Ghi'lan this changed, he taught her about magic and how to survive and manipulate the Fade. He also told her stories of Elvhenan, she learned about the Elvhen people and the Evanuris that ruled over them. She learned that life had been far from ideal for the Elvhen people. Although there were magical marvels, wealth and prosperity, there were also wars, slavery and oppression. She would spend hours listening to him as a child, he was patient with her and would answer her questions. But whenever she would ask him what had happened to the elves, his answers were vague and cryptic. Now, she was older, she wondered if he couldn't or just wouldn't give her the answer.

Since Solas had freed her, she hadn't thought about discovering the ancient past. Being free for the first time she had spent her time in the Fade more casual. Not longer taking lyrium, she had explored more of the local memories that were easier to find. Although she had never forgotten her questions about Elvhenan, there had never been a rush to find the answer. She had always thought she had the time and that she would find the truth someday in the future, when she wouldn't constantly be travelling or fighting against a corrupted magister.

And now she had the feeling she was running out of time. Legends were turning into reality, and the past that had become twisted and tangled was slowly unravelling before her eyes.

The existence of Solas, Falon'Din and a third Evanuris had her wondering; who and what else had survived. What were their plans? And why were they resurfacing now?

The longer she thought about them, the more uneasy she felt about what the future would bring.

One thing she knew for sure, Solas was here for a reason. It hadn't been a coincidence he wanted to reach the conclave. Back then, he had been in a hurry.

Had he known Corypheus would be there?

Was he somehow involved?

Had he known about the foci?

What she did know was that the explosion at the conclave hadn't been part of his plan. At least that was what she hoped.

Looking at Solas, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. What if she was wrong?

 Solas noticed her staring at him. “Are you alright?”

“...Yes.”

“We should reach the base camp soon, and hopefully, you can rest there.”

Eirlana knew he was worried about her, and she felt guilty that she had those doubts about him. How could she think he would willingly kill all those people at the conclave? Shaking those dark thoughts away, she smiled at him. “I feel fine, don't worry.”

Solas reached out and caressed her arm. To his relief, she was recovering well even with them being on the road. Slowly she was returning to her former self, and although she wasn't as open towards him as before, she was beginning to talk more to him and the others. Still, he could feel a distance between them that hadn't been there before.

He could sense the sadness and guilt she was feeling in her grief; the fear left by her trauma. But, to his relief, they weren't overpowering her any longer. What he couldn't place was the periods of confusion and doubt she experienced, and he wondered what was causing them.

His hart snorted and reared its head as he rode to close to Varric riding in front of him. Backing off, he turned his eyes back on the road. He spotted Ryan riding a short distance in front of him, and he automatically narrowed his eyes.

It was ironic that Ryan had chosen him and Eirlana to accompany him with his growing distrust about their stability as mages. But on the other hand, he also distrusted Dorian, and Vivienne had probably some important political task to fulfil. Of course, Ryan's suspicions about them were utterly absurd, and a glaring proof how incompetent and wrong the humans views about magic was with their Chantry's and templar's.

He glared at the templar armor Ryan so proudly wore. The longer he worked with the man, the more he began to despise him and his decisions. His detest grew even deeper when he thought back at how Ryan had ordered Eirlana to come with them, totally ignoring the fact that she was still recovering. Solas knew the only reason Ryan wanted her here was because of her abilities. It was sickening to think that he may demand from her to use her skills for his own gain. Skills for which she was abused for in the past. Not to mention that Ryan would most likely trample all over the Temple of Mythal, that harboured secrets that shouldn't fall into human hands. Solas sighed in frustration as they drew closer to their goal. He felt reluctant to return here, too many of his memories were connected to these holy grounds. He had often visited Mythal here, but it was also the place where she was betrayed and murdered. A sense of bitterness, anger and sorrow filled him when he thought back at how he and some of Mythal's confidants had found her destroyed body and her Temple plundered. Now he was returning here again, to the place where he had failed to protect his dearest and closest friend.

 “You should stay behind.” Solas said while checking his equipment.

They had reached the Inquisitions main camp and were readying themselves for combat. In the distance, the sounds of battle could already be heard, where Cullen's troops had engaged the Venatori and red templars.

Eirlana fidgeted with her gloves. “I want to go. I am alright.”

He could see she was anxious. “No, you are not.” he brushed her cheek. “You are not yourself since Imshael captured you, and I don't expect you to be. You suffered a great loss and need rest and time to recover, not another battle.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears away that threatened to escape. Stepping forward, she leaned against him, and he took her softly into his arms. She knew she was worrying him and hurting him by being so distant. But the more she was accepting the fact that he was Fen'Harel, the more she feared to tell him that she knew.

“I am sorry.” she mumbled against his chest.

“Vhenan, don't be.” he pressed a kiss on her head. “I just want you to be safe.”

“I know.” she exhaled and looked up at him. “But you know where we are.”

His expression grew more serious. “I do.”

“Do you really want them to trample over of what is left from...” She hesitated for a fraction. “from what Mythal was to the People.”

Solas moved slightly backwards but kept his arms around her, he found her choice of words strange.

“You know how Ryan is, Solas.” she continued looking at him. “And I don't want him to foolishly stumble upon something he doesn't understand. If Corypheus is of any example, we need to keep powerful artefacts from falling into the wrong hands.”

He averted his eyes, knowing it was his fault that Corypheus had his orb. Taking a long breath, he sighed. “Alright, but stay close to me. You are not yet well enough to fight.”

“I promise.” she smiled slightly.

She didn't know what they would find at the Temple, but she knew it had a connection with Solas' past. She had noticed that he was unusually quiet about the upcoming mission. It was so unlike him, to refrain from giving his opinion. She had also noticed he was avoiding Ryan and Morrigan, and their speculations about Mythal, her Temple and the eluvian.

Determined to find out more, she grabbed her staff and walked towards Iron Bull, Cassandra and Morrigan. They all were waiting for Ryan to finish talking with, now Emperor, Gaspard. She heard Gaspard boasting that the battle was a worthy hunt, as if it was a joke that the soldiers risked their lives to carve them a path to Corypheus. It sickened her to hear them laughing. Didn't they care for the loss of life and the destruction they brought to this place? She wondered what they would do if elves still had lived here. Would they also hunt them like a horrid sport? Would they trample and crush on that what remained?

One thing was certain something powerful had survived until this age. There was magic tingling in the air, and it had steadily grown stronger as they came nearer the Temple. It was reacting to their presence, and judging by Morrigan's demeanour, she wasn't the only one who was aware of it.

“Let's go!” Ryan commanded and marched towards the sounds of battle.

 The forest was old and dense. The floor was covered with thick patches of fallen leaves, mouldy wood and mushrooms. Their feet sunk into the soft ground as they hurried along the twisted path, passing through huge hollowed out trees. Flocks of colourful birds flew up as they passed through the thick green underbrush. Along the way, they ran into small skirmishes between the Inquisitions forces and red templars. Soon they reached a river with remnants of elven architecture, but Eirlana had no time to study them, because a group of red templars was awaiting them.

Eirlana tried to keep herself out of the combat as she promised, but as a behemoth came lumbering from behind the ruins, she felt herself automatically casting an ice spell to freeze the creature. She was startled when the spell manifested itself almost instantly, freezing the creature solid.

What was happening to her?

Ever since she had awoken, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had somehow changed. She couldn't pinpoint what it was, but she felt somehow different. At first, she had thought it was because of her wounds, but she was now almost completely healed. What remained was that her body felt foreign to her.

She didn't know exactly what Falon'Din had done to her or why he had helped her at all. She doubted it was out of kindness or the goodness of his heart. Whatever the reason, he had cured her and changed her in the process.

Even if she ignored the feeling of her body, she knew her magic had most definitely changed. She always had a strong affinity with the Fade, but not like this. Her dreams had become more vivid, with the Fade responding quicker and more fluently than ever before. Even when awake, it felt like she was closely connected with the realm beyond the Veil. This connection fuelled her magic like nothing she had experienced before. It was like she had tapped into a new well of energy, and she didn't know its origin nor its limitations.

Now with her casting for the first time in combat again, the difference was even more apparent. Her magic manifested easier and with more power than before. It was almost like when she had cast her first spells outside of the Fade, when she didn't know how to control her power. She needed to be careful.

 The battle was swift and merciless, and soon the lifeless bodies of their enemies lay on the ground. To their surprise they found Grey Wardens among them, probably the last that remained from the mages Corypheus had enslaved at Adamant.

Why had Corypheus brought them out here, Eirlana wondered as they moved on.

“Over there, another red templar encampment.” Ryan proclaimed. “Mages take care of the archers on the wall. Iron Bull and Cassandra you are with me.”

He rushed forward, bashing his shield against a red templar knight, almost running him over. Iron Bull and Cassandra sprinted past him, engaging the red templar shadows before they would disappear into the shadows.

Staying behind Solas and Morrigan, Eirlana cringed when Ryan labelled them as mages. Why wasn't he using their names? Quickly she threw her barriers around everyone so Solas and Morrigan could focus on their offensive spells.

The battle was progressing straight forward when suddenly Solas turned around and pulled Eirlana roughly behind him. Stumbling, she looked over her shoulder where out of nowhere an elf materialised with his daggers drawn. Solas moved his staff quick and efficient, blocking the attack. The strange elf swiftly spun around trying to land a hit with his blades, but Solas moved fluently along, easily keeping himself and her out of harm's way. She had never seen him move like that before, he moved like he knew how the elf would attack.

More elves appeared, attacking the others. “Katara Bas! They fight like a hurricane!” Iron Bull grunted, and Ryan exclaimed “Maker, take you!” as everyone changed targets.

Summoning magical energy Solas blasted the elf backwards.

”Leave us. We are not your enemy.” he called out, but the elf didn't even flinch and jumped to the left to strike again.

Not having any other choice Solas summoned a stone fist to punch the elf backwards. This was the first time he had to fight against one of the People with only a simple staff as his weapon. He wished he could pick up a blade himself and deal with the attacker more swiftly, but that would betray too much of his past. Where in Thedas would a simple apostate have learned to wield a blade like a warlord?

As sudden as the elves had appeared, they disappeared again into the shadows.

“Everyone alright?” Ryan asked wiping sweat from his brow.

“It seems the Temple of Mythal is not abandoned after all.” Morrigan remarked. “It is likely that these creatures are the reason few return from the Arbor Wilds.”

Ryan shouldered his shield. “Who were they? They seem... odd.”

“Indeed. Two things are possible.” Morrigan explained. “One, this is a group of Dalish separated from their brethren. Cultists. Fanatic in their desire to keep humans away. Two, these are elves descended from the ancients, having resided here since before the fall of Arlathan. The second appears unlikely, but if true, the implications are astounding.”

“Whatever is the case we can't let them stop us from getting to Corypheus.” Ryan grunted and walked further down the path.

Looking at one of the fallen elves Eirlana hesitated for a moment. The elf's features were sharp, and his skin tone wasn't like any she had ever seen, pale almost greenish in colour. Like the elf hadn't seen sunlight in ages. His vallaslin was greenish golden and more intricate then the markings the Dalish wore. They were clad in elegant armor, forged from an unknown metal that shimmered golden in the sunlight.

No, Eirlana thought, these are no descendants. There was only one place she had seen such vallaslin and such armor before, and that was in the Fade. These were ancient elves, awakened from uthenera by their presence.

 They rushed forward, past remnants of bridges and outer buildings that were decorated with broken murals and overgrown statues. It was strange Eirlana thought, for being a place of worship of Mythal there were a lot of statues representing the other Evanuris. Whatever this place once was, it was connected to all of them.

After more encounters with red templars, they finally reached the Temple. Eirlana faltered when she saw the four giant Fen'Harel statues, that stood at the Temple's entrance. They had a place of honour, guarding the gates of Mythal's sanctuary. Although she had seen statues of Fen'Harel at other temples before, it had been nothing like this. She wondered what his connection with Mythal was. Frustrated that she didn't know more, she hoped, once they had dealt with Corypheus, she would get the opportunity to dream here and explore the Fade.

Hurrying along a long archway, they heard fighting up ahead. Ryan signalled for them to slow down, and they carefully sneaked onto a platform that was littered by red templar and Venatori corpses. To their left and right, the outer walls of the Temple fanned out encircling a big lake. A good distance from its shore, the water suddenly plummeted into the depths, creating a giant circular waterfall. In its centre, the Temple of Mythal arose.

Below them, the ground was covered with more corpses of Venatori and elves.

A group of elves, guarding the bridge leading to the Temple, was facing Corypheus. A woman stood at Corypheus' side with his remaining troops, a couple of Grey Wardens were among them.

“Na melana sur, Banallen!” the leader of the elves called out.

“The wretch mocks you, Master.” the woman sneered.

Corypheus paced forward. “These are but remnants. They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows.”

As he stepped forward, two statues of Mythal standing next to the bridge began to glow with magical energy. Corypheus hesitated for a moment but resumed his path. “Be honoured! Witness death at the hands of a new god!”

Powerful magic shot out from the statues, engulfing Corypheus. To the horror of the elves, he kept moving and grabbed the leader by his throat. It appeared the magic wasn't affecting Corypheus at all. Then his flesh began to melt and drip to the ground. It was consuming him and disintegrating his body. The magical energy kept building power until it suddenly exploded, throwing back a part of Corypheus' troops as well as the elven guardians, killing them. The light of the explosion blinded Ryan and the others. As the smoke cleared, they saw the woman and the remaining troops crossing the bridge and disappearing into the Temple.

 On their guard, they all moved towards the bridge, carefully stepping through the carnage the explosion had left behind.

“Did Corypheus just die?” Ryan asked in disbelief, looking around, searching for any trace left of him.

Eirlana felt uneasy, something wasn't right. Corypheus followers weren't acting like their leader had just died. Suddenly she felt a foul energy gathering behind her. Whirling around, she gasped as one of the corpses of the Grey Wardens started to move. It grunted and spasmed, blackened blood spew from its mouth like a geyser. They all stepped back when the body began to twist and turn black. All of a sudden new arms shot out from the blackened mass, and Corypheus' body slowly rose.

“It cannot be!” Morrigan exclaimed in disbelief.

“Across the bridge. Now!” Ryan yelled, and they all ran.

Glancing behind her Eirlana saw the blackened figure of Corypheus rose and watching them. A familiar roar sounded above them. Corypheus' dragon plunged out of the sky, firing its corrupting fire breath. They all ran as fast as they could through the open doors of the Temple and quickly pushed them shut, hoping it would give them some protection against the beast. They made it just in time, and the doors magically sealed themselves, locking out Corypheus and his dragon. For the time being, they were safe.

 After the constant battle, the courtyard of the Temple lay strangely peaceful before them. The area was totally overgrown and adorned with several statues of Mythal. Looking around Eirlana also spotted a couple of wolven statues, Fen'Harel was even represented here. What had been their relationship, she wondered again.

There were no signs of the Venatori, apart from a few corpses, nor of the guardians of the Temple. Ryan ran across the square, up the stairs, towards the next doors leading deeper into the Temple, but they were magically sealed shut. Frustrated, he kicked against them.

Abruptly he turned towards Morrigan. “You said Corypheus wanted an eluvian, but he talked about the 'Well of Sorrows.' What is it?”

Morrigan scratched her head. “I am uncertain of what he was speaking.”

“Of course you are.” Ryan snapped. “Are they the same? Is eluvian another name for it?”

“No, it seems an eluvian is not the prize Corypheus seeks.” Morrigan snapped back. “But whatever this Well is, Corypheus is after it, and thus you must keep it from his grasp.”

“What I want to know is how Corypheus came back to life.” Ryan yelled. “We saw him die.”

“It looks like his life force was passed on to the Grey Warden.” Morrigan calmed herself. “Perhaps he possesses the same ability as an Archdemon. Maybe the Grey Wardens knew this, and that's why they locked him away.”

“Then, Corypheus cannot die.” Solas murmured in thought. “Destroy his body, and he will assume another.”

During their discussion, Eirlana sat down on the stairs, her legs were shaking and hurting from the running they had done. Noticing her discomfort, Solas squatted down and tried to soothe her with pulses of healing magic.

“We need to find a way to stop Corypheus once we're done here.” Ryan huffed, looking around for a way forward. “This Mythal, what do you know about her Morrigan?”

“The accounts of Mythal are very old and varied, I don't know if she truly existed. It could be she was once a powerful elf or another being of immense power, if she was ever a single entity. The accounts of her are more stories than facts. I question her supposed divinity, however. One need not to be a god to have value.”

“What are those stories of her?”

“In most stories, Mythal rights wrongs while exercising motherly kindness. 'Let fly your voice to Mythal, deliverer of justice, protector of sun and earth alike.' Other paint her as dark, vengeful. 'Pray to Mythal, and she would smite your enemies, leaving them in agony.'”

“More Dalish tales, I assume.” Solas turned towards Morrigan, Eirlana could tell he was annoyed. “For all your 'knowledge,' Lady Morrigan, you cannot resist giving legend the weight of history. The wise do not mistake one for the other.”

“Pray tell, what does our elven 'expert' know about this?” Morrigan snarled.

“The oldest accounts say Mythal was both of these, and neither. She was the Mother, protective and fierce. That is all I will say. This is not a place to stir up old stories.”

“Whatever the truth,” Morrigan turned her attention back to Ryan. “all accounts of Mythal end the same: exiled to the Beyond with her brethren.”

“What do you mean, exiled?”

“Tricked by the Dread Wolf, as all the elven gods were said to be, trapped in a land beyond the Fade. Many Dalish believe this is why the elves fell from grace, and their gods did not save them. Or perhaps they were simply rulers slain by Tevinter. Who can say?”

Eirlana carefully observed Solas and how his eyes reflected a deep sorrow. Whatever had happened to Mythal, it had touched him deeply.

“Let's find a way through these doors,” Ryan said.

“That altar may hold more information.” Morrigan suggested, pointing towards a couple of stones, standing upright in the centre of an elevated part of the courtyard.

 They all approached the altar. Ryan, who stepped on the elevation first jumped immediately back as the tile he stepped on, began to glow.

“It appears the temple's magics are still strong.” Morrigan moved next to him.

Getting more irritated, Ryan pointed towards the engraved stones. “That script is that elven? Does it say anything about this Well of Sorrows?”

“Atish'all Vir Abelasan.” Solas read out loud. “It means 'enter the path of the Well of Sorrows.'”

Morrigan huffed, clearly annoyed that Solas was taking the credit for translating the elven script. “There is something about knowledge. Respectful or pure. Shiven, shivennen. It is all I can translate. That it mentions, the Well is a good omen.”

“Vague translations of knowledge and sorrow. This doesn't help us at all.” Ryan grumbled.

“It is likely supplicants to Mythal would have paid some form of respect and obeisance first before they were granted permission to enter the temple.”

During their discussion, Eirlana looked around. She could feel the Veil was thin here, and the air was humming with the same magic she felt earlier. Looking next to the altar, she saw a shimmer. Something was moving along the tiles, but it was very faint like a wisp of smoke. Puzzled at to what it was, she concentrated on it.

Suddenly she connected with a spirit living here in this part of the Fade. In shock, she staggered slightly, never before she had been able to connect with a spirit in this manner without being asleep or in a trance. The spirit seemed excited by her presence and began to share the past. As she watched the image became clearer. She could see shadows of thousand and thousands of elves that had walked this path before them. They were honouring Mythal, appeasing her, praying for her favour, her wrath and forgiveness.

It was both fascinating and terrifying. How was this possible without her entering the Fade? The images were flickering as she tried to keep connected with the spirit, but it was difficult. As before, her control over her magic, her flow of mana fluctuated and as sudden as the images had appeared, they vanished again.

Blinking her eyes, she spoke up. “It's a dance.”

 Everyone's attention turned towards her.

“A dance?” Morrigan huffed mockingly, raising her eyebrows sceptically.

“Will that open the door?” Ryan asked.

“Maybe. It was a ritual performed here by the Elvhen. I will try it.” Carefully she stepped on the first tile that began to glow again.

“A ritual to appease elven gods? Long-dead or no, I don't like it.” Cassandra protested.

“We have no other choice.” Ryan grumbled. “The Maker will forgive us.”

Solas watched Eirlana as she moved over the tiles, her body swaying to the rhythm of an unheard tune.

How often had he attended the ritual? How often had he stood at Mythal's side, watching the faithful, judging them as to who was worthy of being heard? It chilled him to the bone, to see her perform the same steps. With each step she took, he felt like she was taking a step back in time, a step closer to the truth.

He wanted to intervene and stop her, stop her from entangling herself deeper into the web he had created, a web he himself was captured in. It was his own fault, his own weakness that allowed her to come this close, he had allowed her to become part of him.

Standing here where Mythal had fallen, he felt closer than ever to the path he had chosen, the Din'Anshiral. He knew only death would await him at the end. It felt like with each step she took, she was following him on that path, and she didn't deserve that fate. She deserved to be free. Free from the secrets he carried, free from his bloody duty.

The optimism and hope he felt not so long ago had vanished. It had been a dream, a fleeting moment of happiness he would be forever grateful for. But the dream had shattered before it began. He lowered his eyes and clenched his jaw, he needed to harden himself and face his inescapable faith. A faith he had to face alone.

Determined Solas watched Eirlana stepping on the last tile, finishing the ritual. With a whooshing sound, the ancient magical seals activated, unlocking the doors behind them.

With a heavy heart, he followed the others, knowing that this day wouldn't end well. For he knew one thing, if the Sentinels were still guarding this place, the Well of Sorrows was still intact, and with it the Will of Mythal.

 They entered the inner hall, it was also overgrown with trees and plants. Arches to the left and right let to other chambers of the Temple. Up a set of stairs stood the woman with a group of Venatori. They were just in time to witness the group of mages blast a hole into the floor, creating an opening to the lower parts of the Temple.

“Don't let them pass!” The woman yelled before jumping down the hole. Out of all directions, Venatori emerged from behind the columns and trees. They were surrounded.

“There is no end to these bastards.” Iron Bull growled and smashed his warhammer into the first warrior that came rushing towards them. Ryan and Cassandra bashed their shields, drawing attention to themselves. Solas automatically stepped in front of Eirlana, so he could shield her better from the combat.

Although they had faced the Venatori often, the overgrown vegetation in the hall made the battle treacherous. The trees provided excellent cover for the archers and mages, and the gnarled roots and broken up tiles made the ground uneven. Ryan cursed loudly several times when he almost lost his footing.

Cutting down the last mage, Ryan yelled. “Let's go! If we hurry, we might catch them.” and ran up the stairs towards the hole that still smoked from the explosion.

“Hold! A moment.” Morrigan hurried and blocked his path. “While they rush ahead, this leads to our true destination.” she pointed towards a closed door, flanked by four Mythal statues, at the other end of the hall. “We should walk the petitioner's path, as before.”

“You forget that army fighting for us out there?” Iron Bull growled disapproving. “The longer we play around, the more Inquisition soldiers die. There's a hole – Jump in.”

“I agree. Performing even more heathen rituals. I'm against it.” Cassandra proclaimed.

“We are on ancient grounds.” Solas countered. “It deserves our respect.”

“Yes, we should respect this Temple. I should be able to figure out the rituals quickly.” Eirlana agreed with him.

“Also we may not be able to find the Well of Sorrows unprepared.” Morrigan continued.

“Why not?” Ryan crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

“I read more in the first chamber than I revealed. It said a great boon is given to those who use the Well of Sorrows... but at a terrible price.”

“What did it say exactly?” Ryan looked displeased at her.

“Like most elven writing, it was insufferably vague. The term I deciphered was 'Halam'shivanas' – 'the sweet sacrifice of duty.' It implies the loss of something personal for duty's sake. Yet for those who served at this temple, a worthwhile trade. I am willing to pay the cost to preserve the Well.”

“Why didn't you say something earlier?”

“I hoped to find more information first.”

“And gain what?” he interrupted her.

“More relevant information about the Well, there may be a way to preserve it. The rituals may point to the way.”

“We already have lost too much time with this nonsense.” Ryan stepped passed her and jumped down.

 They swiftly moved through the cellars of the Temple, the few Venatori that tried to stop them hardly slowed them down. That was until their path was blocked by a collapsed passage. It had just been brought down, the rubble was still on fire, and the dust hadn't even settled yet. Ryan cursed loudly. There was no way for them to clear the path quickly and continue their pursuit.

“Guess we go back up again.” Iron Bull remarked, pointing to some stairs leading back to the upper levels.

The stairs led them into a grand vestibule, illuminated by lanterns and fire bowls. The light shimmered off the flaky golden paint covering the walls. Golden decorative fencing glittered at the tops of the arches that surrounded the chamber, that was decorated with several mosaics and murals.

“What was this room used for...?” Morrigan wondered aloud.

Cautiously they entered. As they reached the centre, elves emerged from the shadows surrounding them with their bows drawn.

“Venavis.” a hooded elf stepped onto a raised balcony in front of them. He wore the same sculpted armour as the other ancient elves and Eirlana only noticed now how silently it moved. He had the same pale complexion, as well as an intricate golden-green vallaslin of Mythal.

The hooded elf crossed his arms and looked down upon them. “You... are unlike the other invaders. You stumble down our paths at the side of one of our own. You bear the mark of magic which is … familiar. How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?”

Eirlana's heart skipped a beat when he mentioned Solas, but no one else of her companions reacted to his remark. Did the elf know Solas? She frowned when he described the mark as familiar. How could he recognize it? Corypheus had claimed he had forged the mark using the foci he possessed. It had transferred to Ryan after he touched the orb at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. But if this ancient elf recognized it, it meant the mark had always been part of the orb. She glanced at Solas. If Solas' goal to reach the conclave had been the foci, had he also been after the mark? She knew he had control over it and that it interacted with the Veil like it was a key. So what had Solas planned to do with it?

 Ryan stepped forward, glaring at the elf. “I won't be interrogated at sword point. Declare yourself!”

The elf narrowed his eyes. “I am called Abelas. We are Sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground. We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion. I know what you seek. Like all who have come before, you wish to drink from the vir'abelasan.”

“ 'The Place of the Way of Sorrows', he speaks of the Well!” Morrigan whispered to Ryan.

“It is not for you. It is not for any of you.” Abelas announced.

Eirlana sighed, for all the knowledge and expertise Morrigan claimed to have about elves and their history, she had forgotten that elven hearing was far better than that of humans. Abelas clearly had heard her and confirmed his suspicion why they were intruding. She watched the ancient elf that stared sternly at them. Abelas... Sorrow. She wondered what did he mourn to have been given that name. Did he mourn the demise of the Elvhen people? Or did his name have another origin?

“I am Inquisitor Trevelyan, Chosen of Andraste!” Ryan said. “I command you to let us through! I don't know what weird elven cult this is, but I need to reach this Well. Stand aside!”

Abelas studied him for a moment. “Your title means nothing to us. Our duty is clear. The vir'abelasan shall not be usurped... even if I must destroy it. Masal Din'an!” He turned and ran deeper into the Temple.

“No!” Morrigan exclaimed. With the blink of an eye, she turned into a crow and flew after Abelas.

“Morrigan!” Ryan yelled, but it is too late, she was already gone.

A hail of arrows was released as the remaining Sentinels attacked them. Immediately, Ryan, Cassandra and Iron Bull went into the offence, protected by Solas' barriers.

Shocked by how quick the situation escalated Eirlana wasn't as fast. Every part of her being rebelled against this course of action. Soon though she had no other choice but to defend herself. Where she could, she quelled her magic, hoping that some of the Sentinels would fall unconscious and survive this day.

Tears welled up in her eyes when the battle was over. Why hadn't Ryan talked to them normally? These elves had done nothing, they were only protecting their home.

Solas turned to Ryan, he too was upset. “This was unnecessary. A pointless waste of life.”

Ryan crossed his arms. “I didn't make them attack, Solas. They're the ones clinging to their pointless duty.”

“Pointless, is it?” Solas sneered. “This is their land, not yours.”

“We need to stop Corypheus.” Ryan snapped.

“Does that justify murder?” Eirlana asked, her voice raised and heavy with emotion. “They are only protecting their home. We could have explained it to them.”

“Enough! You both followed me here!”

Solas sighed quietly. “Yes, so we did.” but Eirlana didn't think Ryan heard him, as he continued to yell at them.

“I am the leader! And we have a mission to fulfil. You both know what's at stake. We need to stop Corypheus. I have no time for your or their feelings. Now shut up and follow me!”

Iron Bull grunted. “Apparently humans aren't the only stubborn fools on this continent.”

 Searching the vestibule, they discovered an open door. Along twisted passages and stairs, they went deeper into the Temple. In their hurry, they didn't take the time to look around. Eirlana could only glance at the faded splendour they encountered everywhere. There were more statues of Mythal, grand mosaics and faded murals. Arches were decorated with golden filigree and decorative fences. Wherever she looked, there was a golden surface. Se had never seen so much gold in her life, and she could only imagine how in the past this Temple must have basked in a permanent glow.

She gasped when they passed the first massive golden statues of Fen'Harel, but as they found even more of them deeper in the Temple, she wondered just how important his connection was to Mythal. He must have had a crucial task to be represented this often. How could it be that such a connection had been forgotten through the ages? Nothing in elven history or legends she knew off ever mentioned their bond. She promised herself that when this was over, she would look for more information in the Fade. Now she knew what to look for it would be easier to find it.

They came into another chamber and encountered a group of Venatori and Sentinels engaged in battle. Both Ryan and Cassandra rushed immediately into the fight, followed closely by Iron Bull. Reluctantly Eirlana joined them, knowing this was now their only way to stop Corypheus. But it felt wrong to fight the Sentinels, and she tried just to knock them out whenever she got an opportunity.

“This place is like a maze.” Ryan complained when the next door revealed another corridor leading into a different direction. “Keep your guard up. We face two opponents now, and these Sentinels will know every turn of this place.”

“I wonder whose fault that is.” Solas murmured.

Ryan glared at him but didn't say anything further.

Continuing their path, Eirlana pondered how things would have gone differently if they had completed the ritual and paid their respect to this place. If only Ryan had been civil with Abelas. She glanced at Solas, who had a frown on his face; it was comforting to know she wasn't the only one who was angry at the situation.

 Another group of Venatori and Sentinels attacked them. Solas twisted around when an assassin struck from the shadows. Though he kept himself and Eirlana safe, he had a hard time concentrating on the battle. His mind kept wandering to a different time. He knew these halls by heart, and with each turn they took, he was confronted by memories of his past.

He remembered how he often talked with Mythal. How they could spend hours in heated discussions. How they smirked together at his mischief, or he would simply vent his frustrations. With melancholy, he glanced at a pile of offerings that lay at the foot of one of his statues, remembering the fierce argument they had about them. Back then, he had demanded the practice to be stopped. He had argued that he wasn't a god and that it wasn't right that he and the others were worshipped as such.

He wondered if things would have gone differently if he hadn't started to rise up against the other Evanuris. Would Mythal still be alive? Or had his uprising only accelerated the inevitable? He knew that the Evanuris lust for absolute power and domination had been insatiable, and were destabilizing the world. But had his actions forced them to move against Mythal. Or would they have killed her regardlessly?

And now he himself had returned as an invader.

Coming here, Solas had expected to be confronted by the memories of his past. He even had considered the possibility that they would encounter some of the People. Elvhen like himself that had survived the ages in uthenera. What he hadn't expected was to meet Abelas. He had held his breath when he recognised him, and for a moment, he had been afraid that Abelas would call him out. Although in hindsight, it wasn't surprising that Abelas all but ignored him. He had always been one of the most loyal and the most stubborn of Mythal's servants. He didn't live for anything else but his duty, even when there were other paths to follow, other places to go. Places where he and his followers would be welcomed, places where others were gathering and preparing. But Ryan's hostility had forced Abelas' hand, and he would do anything to protect the vir'abelasan.

 “There the Well of Sorrows!” Ryan pointed as they stepped out onto a balcony overseeing a garden.

Relieved they finally found it, Cassandra exhaled. “Andraste guide us.”

“So Mythal endures.” Solas murmured.

The inner sanctum of the Temple must once have been a beautiful, well-kept garden. It was still beautiful, but now it was wild and overgrown, nature clearly had taken over. Trees and other plants grew everywhere and had destroyed parts of the walls and paths. Piles of rubble lay here and there, and everything was covered in layers of algae and moss. A waterway flowed through the garden, plunging down into a deep fissure at the garden's centre, beyond it a mass of rocks arose. On its top, they could see a body of water reflecting the sunlight.

In the garden below them, a group of Venatori was brutally cutting down the last of the Sentinels.

Quickly they ran down the stairs. Anger and sorrow filled Eirlana as she witnessed one of the Venatori warriors standing on one of the Elvhen, drowning him cruelly in the water. She was too late to stop it.

How could they do this? How could any of this happen? The Inquisition was supposed to fight Corypheus, to save and protect the world and its people from him. So why weren't they saving these Elvhen? Why were they fighting against them?

She hadn't always agreed with Ryan's decisions, but the Inquisition's direction had always been to stop Corypheus and the damage he had caused. Now she was revolted that Ryan's actions were forcing her to fight against these Elvhen. And what was maybe even more horrifying was that most of the people she considered her friends were agreeing with him.

 “Stand aside, Inquisitor!” the woman leading the Venatori addressed Ryan.

“And you are?”

“I'm called Calpernia. But when I partake of the Well, names will be meaningless. Leave. This is not your time.”

The Venatori around her slowly spread out, ready to attack them at any moment.

“Take one step toward that Well, and I'll finish you.” Ryan threatened her.

“You serve your people – you have one last chance to save them.” she stared at the Well longingly. “The Well of Sorrows overflows with knowledge, power abandoned by those elves worshipped as gods. To walk the Fade without the Anchor – that is what the Well of Sorrows will give Corypheus.”

Ryan smirked. “So I will take that power before him, as I did with the templars and the Grey Wardens.”

“Simple fool.” she shook her head. “I knew you would take the Well for yourself. To ransack its wisdom and try to defeat Corypheus. This will be the end, Inquisitor. You should never have come here.” Two rage demons appeared beside her. “Venatori kill them!”

 Bleeding severely from a sword wound, Calpernia staggered, holding her stomach. The dead bodies of her men lay around her, and her demons had turned into ash. Angry, she glared at Ryan, who strode menacingly towards her, his sword ready for the killing blow. Gritting her teeth, she teleported away.

“If I fall, it will not be by your hand.” she spat and jumped down the fissure to her death.

With the battle over Eirlana checked everybody for any injuries. There were some cuts and bruises, but Cassandra seemed to be the worst. She was slightly bent over, struggling to take a proper breath. Earlier she had taken a blow from a maul to her chest, and Eirlana suspected she had several broken ribs.

“Hold still.” she stepped towards her and let her magic flow, repairing the damage.

In the meanwhile, Ryan and Iron Bull tried to figure out how to cross the chasm and reach the Well.

Suddenly Abelas appeared, magic erupted from him, and a stony path arose out of thin air, leading over the chasm and up to the Well of Sorrows. Leaping from rock to rock he ran up the path, with great agility and speed. Morrigan, still a crow, chased him in close pursuit.

“Quickly after him!” Ryan ran after them. He was closely followed by Iron Bull and Cassandra, who had pushed Eirlana out of the way.

Before Abelas could reach the Well Morrigan overtook him and re-materialised. His path blocked Abelas turned, only to see Ryan behind him.

“You heard his parting words, Inquisitor.” Morrigan started “The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows.”

Seeing that he was outnumbered, Abelas stepped back, so he could face both Ryan and Morrigan. “So the sanctum is despoiled at last.”

“You would have destroyed the Well yourself, given the chance.” Morrigan spoke sharply.

“To keep it from your grasping fingers!” Abelas glared at them. “Better it to be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving!”

“Fool!” Morrigan snapped. “You'd let your people's legacy rot in the shadows!”

“This Well is clearly powerful.” Ryan joined in. “If it will help to stop Corypheus, we will take it!”

“I care nothing for your petty conflicts, shemlen.” Abelas sneered.

“You will care, once Corypheus arrives.” Ryan threatened. “We can't afford to waste this power.”

Abelas shook his head. “Do you even know what you demand?” He gazed at the Well. “As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on... through this. All that we were. All that we knew. It would be lost forever.”

Eirlana's heart sank listening to him, he sounded so sad, so filled with sorrow. It was the embodiment of the name he carried.

“There are other places, friend.” Solas spoke up. “Other duties. Your people yet linger.”

Abelas looked at Solas. “Elvhen such as you?” there was a severity in his voice Eirlana couldn't place.

“Yes. Such as I.” Solas answered calmly.

Abelas shook his head and turned back towards the Well. “Our duty is all that remains. Those who drank from the vir'abelasan paid a great price, bound to the service of Mythal for eternity.”

“The era of the elves is long gone.” Ryan stepped forward. “Whatever this cult is, it needs to end. Only the Maker is the one true god. Whatever this Mythal was, you shouldn't serve her.”

“Who she is... to you... it shall make no difference.” With a hand gesture, Abelas blasted them back with a powerful surge of magic.

Struggling to her feet, Eirlana watched as he gathered more magical energy. The waters of the Well of Sorrows began to churn and glow. He was going to destroy it.

All of a sudden Morrigan stood behind him, a knife in her hand.

“No!” Eirlana exclaimed, but it was too late. Morrigan stabbed Abelas in the back.

Crumbling to the ground, he sighed, “Mythal sulevin.” and then everything was quiet.

 “Good work, Morrigan.” Ryan said, stepping over Abelas' body. Together they approached the Well. They were joined by Cassandra and Iron Bull, who looked more suspiciously at the still waters. Behind their backs, Eirlana quickly knelled beside Abelas. She glanced briefly at the others before she pressed her hands on Abelas' body.

When Solas saw the soft glow of her healing magic, he knew she was attempting to save his life. Although he had often disagreed and argued with the man in the past, he didn't deserve this fate. Determined to buy her some time, he set his eyes on Ryan. He was itching to pick a fight with him. An easy task after today's events.

“He was a stubborn fool.” Morrigan complained aloud.

Quickly Solas stepped in front of her and Ryan. “He was defending all that was left of what once was. He had every right to stop us.”

“And let him happily bury us in the process?” she snapped back at him.

'Good.' Solas thought. All eyes were on him. “We came here to stop Corypheus from gaining the Well. Destroying it would have achieved that goal.”

“This could help us destroy Corypheus!” Ryan joined in.

Solas suppressed a smirk, it was too easy to bait this man. “We don't know that! Knowledge has many different forms, and we know too little of this Well. Do you even know how to use it? Because we just killed the last one who could have told us.”

“He was going to destroy it! I had to save the Well.” Morrigan's eyes burned with anger.

“You more likely want the Well for your own ends.”

“What would you know of my 'ends', elf?”

“You are a glutton, drooling at the sight of a feast. You cannot be trusted.”

Eirlana worked fast, she could still feel a faint and uneven pulse. Concentrating on the stab wound, she let her magic do the work, repairing what she could. It wasn't perfect, she couldn't see nor clean the injury, but at least he would live.

Abelas took a sharp breath, his eyes opened briefly and stared at her. Before he could say something, Eirlana put a sleep spell on him. “Ir abelas.” she whispered.

With luck, those who had survived this day would find him. She hoped that he would find one of the places Solas had suggested, and live a life that wasn't filled by sorrow.

The others were still arguing when she carefully stepped away from Abelas. Listening to the discussion, she moved silently farther to the right, closer to the Well. She noticed it was emitting a strange magical aura.

 “Enough!” Ryan cut Solas off. “I, for one, am glad Morrigan stopped him from destroying it.”

Morrigan smirked, clearly pleased he was on her side. With the argument silenced, she pointed across the Well to the big mirror that stood there. “You'll also notice the intact eluvian.” she sighed. “I was correct on that count, at least.”

There were more eluvians around the Well, but they were all shattered.

“Can Corypheus still use it to reach the Fade?”

“You recall I said each eluvian required a key? The Well is the key. When we take its power, we will take possession of Mythal's last eluvian. It will be no more use to Corypheus than glass.”

For a moment she gazed at the Well. “I did not expect the Well to feel so... hungry.”

Morrigan was right Eirlana thought, it felt hungry. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the magic resting within the water. The magic was old and powerful, and it had a hunger, a hunger for knowledge, but there was more. Other emotions were bound to this magic, there was a strong sense of devotion, servitude, submission and obedience. The longer she fixated her mind on the magic, the stronger the sense of servitude became.

“A powerful compulsion lies upon the Well.” she said.

“What?” Ryan asked. He and the others looked at her.

“It doesn't just contain the knowledge from the priests of Mythal. It is their combined will.”

“And how would you know such a thing?” Morrigan crossed her arms, looking once again sceptical at her.

“Abelas told us. Listen to it... Can't you feel it? It's a geas.”

“That... would match the legends,” Morrigan thought out loud. “but it does not tell us what the geas entails. If it means to be bound to the will of a dead god? It seems an empty warning.” she shook her head. “I do not fear it.” She turned to Ryan. “Inquisitor I am willing to pay the price the Well demands and take the risk. I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service. Let me drink, Inquisitor.”

Ryan grabbed his chin as he thought. “Any thoughts?” he asked Cassandra.

“If it is truly between you and her... then let her take the risk. Maker, help us all.”

He nodded, and Morrigan stepped into the water. At first, she was a little apprehensive, but soon she waded to the centre of the Well with confidence.

The water reacted to her presence, glowing softly; wisps of smoke and sparks of magic escaped from the surface and swirled around her. Reaching the centre, Morrigan knelt down with a smile on her lips, emerging herself in the water. In a flash, the water exploded with a powerful magical discharge and disappeared. Morrigan lay unconscious on her back in the, now, dry Well.

“Morrigan. Are you all right?” Ryan hastened to her side.

She opened her eyes and stumbled to her feet, looking confused. “Ellasin selah! Vissan... vissanalla...” She shook her head to clear it. “I... I am intact. There is much to sift through... but now we can.”

She fell silent when suddenly dark blue-grey smoke arose around them from the bottom of the Well charged with blue sparks of magic. Whispering voices filled the air. They all looked around what was happening.

“Boss, over there!” Bull pointed in the distance.

Where they had entered the garden, a figure was coming through the doors, it was Corypheus. He spotted them and cried out in rage. They watched as he took to the air, flying towards them.

“The eluvian!” Morrigan yelled and activated it.

“Through the mirror!” Ryan told them, and they all ran.

Behind their backs, a column of water arose, but they had no time to watch what was happening as they jumped through the eluvian.

Emerging from the other side Morrigan, Cassandra and Iron Bull stumbled and fell to the ground. Solas managed to stay on his feet and quickly turned, catching Eirlana in his arms.

Stunned Eirlana looked around, they were back at Skyhold. Half expecting Corypheus following them, she twisted around, but Ryan was the last one to emerge from the eluvian.

With them all safe, Morrigan deactivated the mirror, and for a moment, they all looked at each other speechless.

Ryan was the first to break the silence. “Well, I need to send some birds to let them know we are back at Skyhold. We need to get our soldiers back here. Morrigan, try to find anything useful that can help us against Corypheus.” he walked into the garden, surprising several Sisters with his return.

“Of course Inquisitor.” Morrigan inclined her head.

[bartwatching]

Fietsvakantie Ecuador: Fietsen over junglewegen en vulkaanhellingen

Aan de noordwestkust van Zuid-Amerika, daar waar de evenaar de Andes kruist, ligt één van de kleinste landen van Zuid-Amerika, Ecuador. Fietsend door Ecuador genoot ik van prachtige vergezichten over besneeuwde vulkanen.

Maandag 4 december – Quito

Gisteravond al aangekomen in Schiphol. Mijn fiets ingepakt en zolang gestald in het bagagedepot. Daarna overnacht in het Budgethotel van de Ibis-keten.  Het inchecken op de luchthaven verliep gelukkig zonder problemen en ook de vlucht was, behalve dat we een uur vertraging hadden, geen probleem. Veel films gekeken en geslapen.

Op de luchthaven van Quito zou ik worden opgehaald door de chauffeur van Community Hostel waar ik de eerste dagen zou verblijven. Maar de chauffeur zag ik niet in de aankomsthal. Nog even gewacht en toen maar gebeld met de hostel. De chauffeur bleek vertraging te hebben maar kwam er wel aan. Na een minuut of twintig wachten stond hij voor mijn neus. De fiets in zijn van geduwd en op naar Quito.

In de hostel werd ik enthousiast verwelkomd door het receptiepersoneel. ’s Avonds een paar biertjes gaan drinken in de bar Bandido Brewery die tegenover mijn hostel lag. Prima biertjes van de tap maar of het zo verstandig was om op deze manier te acclimatiseren voor de hoogte dat weet ik niet. Het wordt aangeraden om niet teveel alcohol te drinken als je op grote hoogte zit en Quito ligt toch al op zo’n 2800 meter. Ik zou de komende dagen in Quito blijven om een beetje te wennen aan de hoogte.

Dinsdag 5 december – Quito Vannacht goed geslapen. Het ontbijt in de Hostel is prima in orde. Tegen elven mee gelopen met een free walkingtour die door de Hostel werd georganiseerd. Onze gids was een mountainbiker die ook aardig over de stad vertellen kon. We begonnen bij de Mercado Central en daarna gingen we door naar het oude centrum van Quito. In 1978 besloot UNESCO dat Quito's culturele erfgoed bewaard moest blijven voor het nageslacht en kreeg de stad een speciale status. In het oude stadsgedeelte van Quito mogen sindsdien geen nieuwe gebouwen meer gebouwd worden en is de sfeer van het koloniale verleden bewaard gebleven. Quito biedt een zeer prettige eerste kennismaking met Ecuador. Een wandeling door oud-Quito is dan ook zeker aan te bevelen. De tour verliep in een hoog tempo. Onze gids was duidelijk fit en had geen last van de hoogte. Wij, de toeristen, echter wel. Vooral als er trappen beklommen moest worden. Ben benieuwd hoe over twee dagen het fietsen gaat. ’s Middags zelf de stad nog maar wat verkent en onder andere per taxi naar het standbeeld van de Maagd van Quito (El Panecillo) gereden. Een indrukwekkend beeld wat hoog op een heuvel gebouwd was. Quito vond ik best een veilige stad maar mijn gids van de stadswandeling raadde mij toch aan om niet via de trappen naar het standbeeld te lopen. Er werd daar nogal gestolen en geroofd volgens hem.

Woensdag 6 december – Quito Mijn tweede dag in Quito. Ook nu weer het oude centrum verkent en ook wat kerken bekeken. ’s Middags een excursie gemaakt naar de equator, het zogenaamde Middle of the World museum en monument. Het museum vond ik een beetje sullig en ook onze gids ter plekke niet echt inspirerend. Wel interessant waren de natuurkundige proefjes die we mochten doen zoals een bak met water die waar we het water lieten aflopen aan de noord en daarna aan de zuidkant van de evenaar. De bak werd circa vijftig centimeter verplaatst en het water liep meteen anders de afvoer in. Onze gids plaatste ook een ei op een spijker en die bleef warempel rechtop staan. Dat er toch enige handigheid vereist was bleek wel toen we het zelf mochten doen. Ons lukte het niet. Ook geblinddoekt lopen over de equator lukte ons geen van allen. Een onzichtbare kracht zorgde ervoor dat we of naar links of naar rechts getrokken werden. Daarna door naar het monument wat gebouwd was ter herinnering aan een Franse expeditie die hier op onderzoek was geweest naar de equator.

In de stad nog even mijn Garmin gecheckt. En dat was maar goed ook want vreemd genoeg stond er geen kaart op. Die had ik er thuis toch echt op gezet! Gelukkig had ik een kopie geplaatst in mijn dropbox en kon ik de kaart er gemakkelijk opzetten. ’s Avonds op tijd naar bed. Morgen fietsen!

Donderdag 7 december - Quito - Cayambe [GPS] Vandaag eindelijk fietsen. Ben benieuwd hoe me dat zal vergaan want door de grote hoogte ging het allemaal toch wel wat langzamer en moeilijker. Als je een trap op liep dan begon je spontaan te hijgen en daar heb ik normaal niet echt last van.  Na het ontbijt afscheid genomen van enkele gasten in de hostel die ik de afgelopen twee dagen heb leren kennen. De vriendelijke receptionist uit Nieuw Zeeland hielp me met mijn bagage. In de berging stond nog een andere fiets. Er bleek gister avond nog een fietser te zijn aangekomen. Helaas niet gezien maar misschien kom ik die onderweg nog wel tegen. Nog twee flessen water gekocht in de winkel naast de hostel en dan op weg. Mijn Garmin deed weer goed zijn werk en loodste me snel de stad uit. Mijn keuze om de stad vanuit het oosten te verlaten was volgens mij wel een goede zet geweest. Al snel zat ik op een backroad die me diep deed afdalen. De weg was slecht en bestond uit een soort van moderne kasseien. Hier en daar ontbrak er eentje dus ik moest voorzichtig dalen. Hard kon ik sowieso niet gaan want het slingerde ook nog behoorlijk. Als het omlaag gaat ga je ook weer omhoog en nadat ik al een hele tijd gedaald had kreeg ik een stevige pukkel voor mijn wielen. In de kleinste versnelling lukte me het om boven te komen. Mijn hoofd en hart stonden zowat op ontploffen. Even uitrusten en toen weer verder. Ik reed richting luchthaven en de wegen werden drukker. Gelukkig was er een brede vluchtstrook dus veel last van het verkeer had ik niet. Ondanks dat de stijgingen niet echt spannend waren was het toch pittig rijden.  De weg werd smaller en de stijgingen pittiger. Maar ook de omgeving werd groener en het platteland begon steeds meer de overhand te krijgen. Het terrein ging goed op en neer met pittige klimmen. Rust had je eigenlijk geen moment en zelfs als het soms leek dat het bergaf ging liep het toch op.  Zag ik het nu goed? Ja, ik had het goed gezien aan de rand van de weg zat een fietser met bepakking. Het bleek Alleandro uit Argentinië te zijn. Hij was al een jaar door Zuid-Amerika aan het fietsen en vertelde me dat er ook nog vier fietsende Fransen onderweg waren naar Cayambe.  Zij zouden gaans slapen in een Haciënda vlak voor Cayambe. Dat wilde ik ook doen dus ik dacht dat is vast dezelfde Haciënda. Later bleek dat niet zo te zijn. Samen op weg maar Alleandro was een stuk fitter als ik en reed al snel van me weg. Ik besloot mijn eigen tempo te rijden want anders zou ik ontploffen. Na een kwartier stond hij op me te wachten. Even uitrusten en toen weer samen op weg. Ik reed voorop en na enige tijd merkte ik dat Alleandro niet meer achter mij reed. Ik kon me niet voorstellen dat ik hem uit de wielen gereden had. Bij een tolpoort, wat voor fietsers gratis was, nog even op hem gewacht maar hij kwam niet opdagen. Toen maar alleen doorgereden naar de haciënda. Slechts 75 km gereden vandaag maar ik was blij dat ik bij Haciënda Guachala was gearriveerd. Het is de oudste Haciënda van Ecuador en stamde uit 1580. Bij de receptie was niemand te zien en ook op de bel werd niet gereageerd. Ik hoorde wel iemand rommelen en daar maar eens poolshoogte gaan nemen. Een oude man was wat aan het klussen. Ik vroeg hem in mijn beste Spaans of er plaats was. ‘Si’ was het antwoord maar daar bleef het dan ook bij. Nog maar eens bellen bij de receptie. Nog een tijdje gewacht en daar kwam een oud dametje aangelopen. Zij kon me inchecken. Ik kreeg een reusachtige kamer incl. haard. Het sanitair was een beetje onderkomen. Toen ik vroeg naar de mogelijkheid voor diner en ontbijt zei ze ‘No no no’. Waarschijnlijk begreep ze me verkeerd want ik kon er toch avondeten. Na het douchen de haciënda wat verkend. Hier en daar hingen er bordjes met tekst en uitleg in het Spaans en Engels. Daarna op het terras plaatsgenomen waar ik Fabian, een Zwitser, ontmoette. Samen met hem gegeten en gezellig gebabbeld over geschiedenis, milieu en andere maatschappelijke problemen en natuurlijk over reizen en landen. Tegen negenen naar bed gegaan en ik viel als een blok in slaap.

Vrijdag 8 december - Cayambe - Otavalo [GPS] Tegen achten ontbeten samen met Fabian. En tegen half tien weggereden. Het ging weer glooiend op en neer. Mijn benen waren goed maar het bleef door de ijle lucht lastig fietsen. Onderweg kwam ik zowaar een mountainbiker in race kledij tegen die me met opgeheven hand groette. Ook in Quito had ik al verschillende keren wielrenners gezien. Er werd dus ook wel recreatief gefietst in Ecuador.   De laatste tien / twaalf kilometer was flink afdalen met uitzicht op het meer Lago de San Pablo. Dat beloofd nog wat als ik straks terug ga! In Otavalo ingecheckt bij Hotel Riviera-Sucre. Volgens de Lonely Planet krijg je hier echt waar voor je geld. En het zag er inderdaad goed uit. Het inchecken ging snel en de kamer zag er netjes uit. Het enige vreemde was dat ik de kamer niet kon afsluiten dat deed het personeel dan voor mij. Maar goed ik had een eigen hangslot bij me en dat leek me handiger dan altijd maar het personeel te vragen.  Na het douchen geluncht op mijn kamer en daarna op weg om Otavalo te verkennen. Otavalo is beroemd om zijn markten waaronder een folkloristische markt. De stad zelf is niet echt geweldig en heeft nauwelijks monumentale gebouwen. Wel ontzettend veel winkels. Ik vond er zelfs twee fietsenwinkels! De fietsenzaak bij de Mercado Copacabana wat beter bekeken. Onbekende merken voor mij en ook het merk derailleurs was mij onbekend. Maar het pronkstuk van de zaak was een Giant! Tijdens mijn wandeling kwam ik in gesprek met een winkelier die groente, fruit, kippen, eieren en kaas verkocht. De geslachte kippen lagen gewoon zonder koeling in zijn winkel. De winkelier sprak wat Engels en was in Portugal, Frankrijk en de USA geweest. Deels als toerist maar ook om er te werken.  Zeker een half uurtje met hem gebabbeld over van alles en nog wat en hij probeerde mijn belabberde Spaans wat bij te spijkeren. Ik ga er morgen maar mijn proviand bij hem kopen. Maar nu eerst naar de folkloristische markt op het plein met de toepasselijke naam Plaza de Ponchos. Druk was het er niet. Maar je kon er van alles kopen van houtsnijwerk, sierraden, poncho's, truien, Panama hoeden etc. etc. In eerste instantie had ik niet echt het plan om wat te kopen. Mijn fietstassen zaten toch al behoorlijk vol. Maar toch overstag gegaan en 2 truien en een nieuwe riem gekocht.  Daarna was het tijd voor een Ecuadoriaanse koffie. Tot nu toe was die altijd heerlijk. Ik vond bij Oraibi een terrasje op een binnen pleintje aan de winkelstraat Sucre. Lekker rustig zitten hier en de koffie smaakte weer prima. Nog even door de stad gelopen en daarna terug naar het hotel voor een kleine powernap. Daarna gaan eten bij visrestaurant Quino wat om de hoek lag. Prima eten en vooral de vissoep was lekker en ook de witte wijn smaakte prima. En leuke Zuid Amerikaanse muziek op de achtergrond. Alleen had men geen klanten. Naast mij heb ik die avond maar één andere klant, een toerist, gezien. Jammer deze zaak zou toch beter verdienen. Voor Ecuadoriaanse begrippen was het een goed restaurant met attente service.

Zaterdag 9 december Otavalo / Ibarra In eerste instantie had ik het plan om zonder bagage naar Ibarra te fietsen. Maar door het zware terrein zag ik hier toch maar vanaf. En waar zou ik mijn fiets moeten laten als ik eenmaal was gearriveerd? Ik had in mijn reisgids gelezen over een spectaculaire treinrit die kon maken vanaf Ibarra tot Salinas en terug. Dat leek me ook wel interessant. Op internet zag ik dat er ook een toeristische treinverbinding was tussen Otavalo en Salinas maar die startte al om 8:00 uur en ik was dus al te laat. Na het goede ontbijt op weg naar het busstation van Otavalo wat zo'n tien minuten lopen lag van mijn hotel. Op het busstation was het even zoeken hoe het moet met kaartjes kopen en waar mijn bus nu precies stond. Na twee keer vragen had ik de bus gevonden en het kaartje a 55 dollarcent koop je gewoon in de bus.  Na een dik half uur arriveerde ik in Ibarra. Vanaf het busstation volgde ik de spoorrails die me naar het centrum en het gerenoveerde treinstation bracht. Er waren nog plaatsen voor de treinrit. Over een half uur zouden we inchecken werd me verteld. In de stationsrestauratie een kop koffie en wat water voor onderweg gekocht. Tijdens het wachten wat gebabbeld met een Amerikaan uit Florida. Hij leek me van oorsprong een Cubaan of wellicht uit Porto Rico. Hij had in het Amerikaanse leger gezeten en had in Duitsland gediend.

Om half twaalf op weg. We werden geëscorteerd door motoragenten die al het verkeer tegen hield als we een weg overstaken. Grappig het leek wel of we met de president van Ecuador op stap waren. In mijn wagon was ik de enige die geen Spaans sprak en dus kreeg ik privé uitleg in het Engels van onze conducteur / gids. Mooie service! Dat gebeurt zeker niet overal weet ik uit eigen ervaring. De Lonely Planet had inderdaad niet gelogen het was een spectaculaire rit over smalle en hoge bruggen, mooie vergezichten en donkere tunnels. Langzaam zakten we af naar het dorpje Salinas waar voornamelijk negers woonden. Hun voorouders hadden vroeger op de suikerriet -en katoenplantages gewerkt of hadden zout gewonnen. In Salinas kregen we eerst een korte demonstratie volksdansen. En achttal meisjes dansten er met een grote fles op hun hoofd. Geen enkele fles viel. Knap! Dat zou me nog in geen honderd jaar lukken. Daarna hadden we tijd om de onvermijdelijke winkeltjes te bekijken en gingen we naar een klein museum waar de zoutwinning werd uitgelegd. Er was ook een restaurant waar we konden lunchen. Volgens mij draaide de hele economie van Salinas op de toeristische treinverbinding die sinds 2012 bestaat. Tot 2010 had het spoor gediend voor normaal personenvervoer. Na de lunch weer terug naar Ibarra. Door de lunch en de warmte zat ik loom in de trein en zo nu en dan vielen me de ogen dicht. Tegen half vijf arriveerden we in Ibarra. Dat gaf me nog de kans om even het centrum door te lopen. Spectaculair vond ik het niet. Maar er waren een aantal mooie kerken, parkjes en ook wel wat  koloniale gevels. Maar ik was blij dat er plaats in de trein was want in Ibarra was ik snel uitgekeken. Met de bus terug naar Otavalo. Zo nu en dan stapten onderweg ook wat mensen op. Soms werd er nauwelijks gestopt en sprong men zo wat in de bus. Ook de bijrijder die o.a. de kaartjes verkocht en bagage inlaadde sprong zo nu en dan uit de half rijdende bus om een kaart af te stempelen in een of andere meter die langs de  weg stond. Geen tijd te verliezen dus en binnen veertig minuten arriveerden we dan ook in Otavalo.  Me wat opgefrist op mijn kamer en toen nog even naar de groentezaak van gisteren gelopen maar die was al dicht. Onderweg begon het te regenen. Dikke druppels! Hopelijk is het morgen droog. Onder de luifels van de winkels gelopen naar visrestaurant Quino. Uitstekende vissoep gegeten en als hoofdgerecht forel. Die viel me wat tegen en heb ik toch echt wel eens beter gehad. Het was deze avond wel wat drukker. Naast mij waren nog een aantal tafeltjes bezet.

Maandag 11 december - Otavalo - El Quinche [GPS] De goede lezer valt het misschien al op. Ik sla zondag 10 december over. Tijdens mijn laatste excursie naar de equator in Quito had ik een kou opgelopen. De eerste dagen had ik daar niet zo last van maar het werd elke dag wat erger. Zondag dan ook besloten om een dag langer in Otavalo te blijven en die had ik voornamelijk in bed doorgebracht. Aan het eind van de middag voelde ik me weer fit genoeg om een paar koffie te gaan drinken in een koffietentje op het Plaza Bolivar. Hier kwam ik ook in gesprek met David, een timmerman van 66 jaar afkomstig uit Florida maar hij had ook veel gereisd en kon daar mooi over vertellen. Daarna nog wat gaan eten in Arbol de Montalvo en toen zat de zondag er weer op. Maandag voelde ik me sterk genoeg om naar El Quinche te fietsen. Bij het ontbijt ontmoette ik een stel uit Roermond die Colombia en Ecuador deden. Ze deden ook aan fietsvakanties en hadden onder andere in Marokko gefietst. Het was gezellig dus wat later op weg gegaan dan ik eigenlijk gepland had.  Om Otavalo uit te komen moest ik flink klimmen. Mijn kou was nog steeds niet helemaal over en dat merkte ik vooral bij het klimmen. Zo nu en dan een flinke hoestbui. Maar na 15 kilometer klimmen werd dat dan ook weer beloond met een mooie afdaling. Het weer was verder prima, niet te warm en niet te koud. Het was wel bewolkt maar tegen de middag brak een flauw zonnetje door. Tegen drieën reed ik El Quinche binnen. Een hotel had ik snel gevonden. Het werd ook tijd dat ik zou stoppen want een dreigende lucht hing boven El Quinche. Een man met zijn zoontje wees me erop maar ik had die donkere lucht zelf ook al gezien. Slechts 65 kilometer gefietst maar toch wel moe al zal dat naast de ijle lucht ook wel door mijn kou komen. Ik had sowieso het gevoel dat ik steeds meer begon te wennen aan de ijle lucht. Het inchecken ging rap. Zoals altijd duurt het een tijdje voordat je warm water krijgt bij het douchen. Maar er was in ieder geval warm water. Na het douchen een korte siësta en toen wat inkopen gedaan en het centrum van El Quinche  verkend. Veel winkels! En ook heel wat mensen die op straat hun waar verkochten. In Ecuador heb ik het gevoel dat de ene helft van de bevolking de andere helft van alles wil verkopen. Ook leegstaande winkels zie je hier nergens. El Quinche was verder niet echt bijzonder met uitzondering van de kerk. Die was wel opvallend zowel van buiten als van binnen. El Quinche bleek dan ook een bedevaartsoord te zijn en zelfs de Paus had hier een bezoek aan gebracht. Tegen zessen begon het te regenen en daarom maar wat gegeten bij het restaurant naast het hotel. Restaurant was eigenlijk een te grote eer voor deze veredelde snackbar. Maar tijdens mijn wandeling door het stadje had ik niet echt iets beters gezien en mede door de regen vond ik het dan ook wel prima zo. Een keertje snacken is ook niet verkeerd.

Dinsdag 12 december - El Quinche - Papallacta [GPS] Op mijn kamer ontbeten en tegen half negen op weg. Nog even gebabbeld met de eigenaar die me trots zijn carbon racefietsen en mountainbike liet zien. Hij was een fervent wielrenner vertelde hij mij en volgde ook de Tour de France. In het begin meer afdalen dan stijgen. Onderweg kwam ik nog een wielrenner tegen die me vanaf de andere kant van de weg groette. Vlak voor Pfifo een afslag genomen en het serieuze klimwerk begon. Ik zou vandaag stijgen tot 4064 meter. De eerste zeven kilometer verliepen naar omstandigheden prima. Het was pittig klimmen maar te doen. De kwaliteit van het asfalt was goed en er was zelfs een fietspad. Maat je moest wel goed uitkijken want zo nu en dan lag er glas, steengruis of zelfs rotsblokken. Het was een dubbel fietspad wat soms links en dan weer rechts van de weg lag. Men had dan een tunneltje gemaakt om aan de overkant te komen. Omdat het niet druk was ben ik maar gewoon over de weg naar de andere kant gereden.  Vanaf kilometer acht werd het toch lastiger en steiler. Vaak zat ik boven de 8% en dat viel niet altijd mee zeker als het meer tegen de 10% ging. Soms stonden er wat verkopers van fruit langs de weg die me altijd vriendelijk groeten met 'buenos diaz'. Zo nu en dan toeterde een auto naar me om me te ondersteunen of werd een hand opgestoken. Na kilometer twaalf werd het weer iets gemakkelijker. Ik bleef wel stijgen maar ik zat op een soort van hoogvlakte. Hier kon ik mijn gemiddelde km per uur wat opkrikken. Maar het werd opnieuw pittig met uitschieters naar 11%.  Naast de ijle lucht en de verkoudheid begon ook de vermoeidheid een rol te spelen. Ik moest steeds vaker van de fiets om uit te puffen. Eindelijk na 24 kilometer klimmen, en dan heb ik de rest van de dag nog niet meegeteld, was de top in zicht. Bovenop stond een kapelletje waar menig automobilist stopte om een kruisje te slaan. Een extra jasje aan gedaan want ik ging bijna tien kilometer dalen. De temperatuur zakte bij het afdalen tot een graad of negen. Ik had een paar keer een prachtig uitzicht op de vulkaan Antisana (5758m) met zijn besneeuwde top.

Het afdalen ging rap al moest ik toch blijven opletten voor glas, steengruis en rotsblokken. Tegen vijven reed ik Papallacta binnen en ingecheckt bij La Choza de Don Wilson. Een eenvoudige kamer met een elektrisch kacheltje. Die maar meteen aangezet want dat leek me wel nodig vannacht. Zoals altijd duurde het ook weer minstens vijf minuten voordat het water van de douche warm was. ' s Avonds in het bijbehorende restaurant prima forel gegeten. Alleen de bediening was een beetje langzaam en hele personeel zat voor de open haard tv te kijken. Tot na achten was ik de enige gast en toen werd men opgeschrikt door nog twee toeristen.

Woensdag 13 december - Papallacta - Tena [GPS] Ik kon pas om half negen ontbijten. Redelijk laat als je een rit van 120 km voor de boeg hebt, ook al zat daar zestig kilometer afdaling in. Toch maar gedaan. En deze keer een broodje met gesmolten kaas bij het ontbijt. Weer eens wat anders dan die eeuwige jam. Tegen half tien op weg. Het zonnetje scheen. Eerst 37 kilometer afdalen naar Baerze. Een goede weg en een gemakkelijke afdaling die soepel verliep. In Baerze wat inkopen gedaan. De vriendelijke dame van het winkeltje wilde weten waar ik vandaan kwam en toen ik "uit Holland" antwoordde wist ze me te vertellen dat de Pizzeria  tegenover haar winkel een Nederlandse eigenaar had.  Na Baerze ging het in het begin een beetje op en af. Maar steeds meer werd omhoog rijden het werkwoord. Ik had verwacht dat ik eerst nog meer zou dalen maar dat was niet het geval. De stijgingen werden alleen maar steviger. Overigens wel door een mooi groen landschap. Ook de weg was lekker rustig en in prima staat. De wind was echter een spelbreker en tegen me.  Tegen de bergen hingen flinke donkere wolken. En bij kilometer 65 bleek ik de top bereikt te hebben. Ook hier weer een kapelletje. Een frisse wind stak op en  het was mistig door de wolken. Een beetje creepy maar ook wel weer heel mooi. Het deed me denken aan gorilla’s in the mist. Maar na een kilometer dalen begon het te regenen. Mijn regenjasje aangedaan en dat bleek ook hard nodig. Het begon pijpenstelen te regenen en het kwam met bakken uit de hemel! Schuilen was geen optie en het leek er ook niet op dat het snel droog zou worden. Dalen dan maar. Door de regen langzamer dan normaal. Ik wilde geen risico nemen. Twee keer werd ik achtervolgd door een groep honden die zo'n fietser wel geweldig vonden om achterna te rennen. Ik heb een dazer maar bij dit natte weer in een afdaling leek het me beter om mijn handen aan het stuur te houden. Voor bijten heb ik nooit zo'n angst maar wel dat ze tegen mijn fiets oplopen. Ooit wel eens gehad dat een hond tegen de pedaal van mijn fiets knalde toen hij / zij enthousiast op mij afrende en niet meer kon stoppen. Gelukkig was het toen maar een klein keffertje.  Het afdalen ging, net als de regen gewoon door. Pas tien kilometer voor Tena stopte het met regenen. Ingecheckt bij La Casa del Abuelo, een sfeervol hostal met vriendelijk personeel. Daarna snel Tena verkennen. Tena had in ieder geval, de indiaan hoog in het vaandel staan. Bij het inrijden van het stadje stond er al een standbeeld van een indiaanse krijger en ook in de stad was er een monument waar de indiaan de hoofdrol vervulde. Tena was niet echt mooi maar wel een levendig stadje. Goed gegeten bij restaurant Marquis. Voor Ecuadoriaanse begrippen een restaurant in de hogere prijsklasse. Volgens Lonely Planet misschien wel het enige echte restaurant in town. Maar goed een enkele keer moet je jezelf een cadeautje geven. De bediening was vriendelijk en vertaalde voor mij de menukaart. Ook heerlijke Chileense wijn en toen ik voor een koffie vroeg kreeg ik meteen een hele kan. Maar goed de twee wijntjes die ik dronk bij het eten daar had ik gisteren een heel menu voor incl. drinken.   's Avonds was het trouwens nog lekker warm. Normaal moest ik bij zonsondergang altijd een jas of trui aan. Daarna bij de loopbrug aan de rivier neergestreken bij Troncos bar. Er was voetbal op tv en de bar was dan ook druk bezet. De clubs kende ik niet maar er werd mooi aanvallend gespeeld dus leuk om naar te kijken. De voetbalwedstrijd werd met 4-2 beslist.

Donderdag 14 december - Tena - Puyo [GPS] Na het goede ontbijt, heerlijke broodjes, op weg richting Puyo. Toen ik de stad uitreed stond een cameraploeg van Ally TV, de lokale zender van Tena, te filmen. Ik moest stoppen en of ik niet mee wilde werken aan een kort interview. Na Armenië, bekijk de video vanaf 10 min 30, nu ook beroemd worden in Ecuador :-) Eerst een voorbereidend gesprekje en daarna werden wat vragen op mij afgevuurd. Ook mijn gps werd gefilmd en toen ik al verder gereden was stonden ze me op te wachten voor een actie shot. Het zou Op YouTube gezet worden volgens de interviewer. Later hun YouYube kanaal opgezocht maar de reportage over mij nooit gevonden. Waarschijnlijk eruit geknipt of verdrongen door belangrijker nieuws.  De eerste twintig kilometer ging glooiend op en neer maar meer omhoog dan omlaag. Daarna een flinke afdaling. Het bleef vervolgens tot St. Clara redelijk vlak. In St. Clara geluncht en gebruik gemaakt van de schaduw van een bushokje. De zon brandde behoorlijk.  Maar goed dat ik bij kilometer veertig geluncht had want daarna ging het goed en steil omhoog. Ik schat 9% gemiddeld. Onder de acht kwam het zelden en regelmatig zat ik op 10 of 11%. Dat ging zo'n kilometertje of vijf door.  Daarna niet meteen dalen maar de, overigens goede, weg bleef op en neer gaan. Pas bij de laatste tien kilometer ging ik stevig omlaag en reed ik Puyo in. Een beetje afgebrande stad en niet echt indrukwekkend. Ingecheckt bij Hostal Las Palmas. Misschien nog wel het mooiste en best verzorgde huis van de stad.  Toch maar even het stadje gaan verkennen maar na een ijsje had ik het snel gezien. Terug naar de hostal om een koffie te drinken. 's Avonds geweldig goed gegeten bij het sfeervolle restaurant El Jardin wat bij het park Omaere ligt. Er was ook een hele groep mannen in pak, waarschijnlijk collega's, die er kwamen eten. Ieder van hen zat alleen maar selfies te maken en daarna op zijn telefoon te kijken en niemand sprak met elkaar. Waanzinnig en lachwekkend om te zien. Als je op stap wilt gaan of wilt gaan uit eten in Puyo dan kun je het beste naar Park Omaere lopen. Hier liggen volgens mij toch wel de betere restaurants en bars van de stad. Na het diner terug naar mijn hostal en daar nog een biertje genomen. Morgen zal het een pittige dag worden met veel klimwerk. Tegen een uur of vier werd ik wakker door een enorme stortbui. Hopelijk is het morgen droog.

Vrijdag 15 december - Puyo - Baños [GPS]

Tegen half acht ontbeten en toen op weg. Het was vrij druk op de weg maar na het plaatsje Shell werd het gelukkig wat rustiger. De kwaliteit van de weg was in ieder geval weer uitstekend. Ondanks dat het pas tegen negenen was gaf de thermometer op mijn Garmin al 28 graden aan. De weg begon al snel te stijgen maar ook weer stevige afdalingen zodat de hoogtewinst maar gering was. En ondanks de hitte kreeg ik het koud van de afdalingen. Toch steeg ik langzaam maar zeker naar de hoogte waarop Baños lag. Tussen kilometer 35 en 40 was het zelfs een flinke klim met stijgingen tussen de 8 en 10 %. Onderweg mooie vergezichten, half droge rivierbeddingen en watervallen. Naast klimmen had men ook een aantal goed verlichte tunnels aangelegd variërend van 300 meter tot één kilometer. Eigenlijk mocht je daar niet doorheen fietsen en hadden ze voor fietsers een pad om de tunnel heengeleid. Toch maar gewoon door de tunnels gereden. En dat ging best goed, de weg was niet druk en de tunnel breed genoeg. Behalve de laatste die was behoorlijk smal maar gelukkig was die niet lang. Vooral in de langere tunnels druppelde het water flink naar beneden en als er ander verkeer doorheen reed dan bulderde het goed.  Gefietst werd hier ook. Maar dan wel naar beneden. Zo'n vijftien kilometer voor Baños kwam ik de eerste toeristen tegen die downhill reden en dan later werden opgepikt werden. Er reden ook wat openlucht busjes op en neer en bij de ravijnen had je de mogelijkheid tot canoying. Ik dacht de hele tijd dat Baños op 2200 m lag en vroeg me af wanneer de echte klim zou beginnen. Anders zou het laatste stuk behoorlijk steil worden. Maar ik had me vergist. Banos lag slechts op 1800 meter hoogte. Het klimmen ging me vandaag dan ook goed af en ik had de wind mee. In  Baños ingecheckt bij Le Petit Auberge. Na het douchen, het water was meteen warm! , kreeg ik nog twee dollar terug van de receptionist. Ze had zich vergist in de prijs. Netjes! Op weg naar het postkantoor om wat ansichtkaarten te posten maar dat was gesloten. In het parkje ernaast kwam ik de Zweed Lars tegen met zijn Steevens fiets. Een gepensioneerde arts en psycholoog van 67 jaar die drie maanden door Ecuador en Colombia fietste.  Lars had al heel wat over de wereld gefietst en zeker een uur met hem gebabbeld over van alles en nog wat maar natuurlijk voornamelijk over (fiets)reizen. Ik hoop dat ik op mijn 67ste ook nog zo fit ben. By the way zijn ex was bibliothecaresse :-) maar ik kreeg het koud en had geen jas of trui bij me. Afscheid genomen van Lars en contactgegevens uitgewisseld.  Baños is wel een echt toeristencentrum. Bars, Cafés, restaurants, hotels en hostals. Zelfs een Ierse pub en een Grieks restaurant gezien. En verder is er van alles te doen zoals jungletrips, wildwater varen, trektochten en thermale baden. Naast veel activiteiten heeft Baños ook een paar leuke pleintjes en een mooie basiliek. Maar toch is het stadje niet echt mijn ding. Te overprijsd onder andere en het deed me sterk aan Monschau en Valkenburg denken. Maar het trekt vele toeristen en ik kwam er zowaar een aantal bekenden tegen: een Duits stelletje wat ik ontmoet had in mijn hostal in Otavalo en op straat werd ik aangesproken door een Duits / Australisch meisje wat ik al eerder ontmoet had in de Community Hostel in Quito. 's Avonds gegeten in Bambu Steakhouse. Viel tegen vond ik maar ik was de twee vorige avonden dan ook verwend geweest. Ik was nog aan het twijfelen wat ik morgen zou doen. Naar Rio Bamba fietsen zoals eigenlijk de bedoeling was maar dat was een negentig kilometer rit al kon het ook korter maar dan zou ik een backroad moeten nemen en ik had zo mijn twijfels over de kwaliteit. Maar beide varianten gaf me niet veel tijd om de stad te bekijken. Volgens Lars was de hoofdweg behoorlijk druk. En dat zal wel kloppen want beide steden zijn behoorlijk groot. Of direct naar Ambato en daar twee nachten blijven en met de bus naar Rio Bamba gaan. Dan zou ik tijd hebben voor beide steden. Ik denk dat ik voor de laatste optie ga. En een dagje niet fietsen is ook niet slecht. Ambato ligt op bijna 2600 meter dus het wordt sowieso nog een flinke klim morgen vanuit Baños.

Zaterdag 16 december - Baños - Ambato [GPS] Op 16 december 1944 werd Baños de hoofdstad van haar kanton en dat betekend elk jaar feest. En deze morgen begon men met een grote optocht. Het stadje uitrijden zoals ik het me bedacht had ging dan ook niet en ik moest even zoeken en omrijden. Daarna meteen klimmen. Maar na enige tijd ook weer flink dalen en via een hoge brug stak ik een vallei over.  De weg was goed, de uitzichten mooi maar het was wel wat druk vond ik. Had wellicht ook met het weekend en de speciale feestdag van Baños te maken. De stijging liep geleidelijk. Alleen voor en na het stadje Pelileo was net een forse klim. Maar goed dat ik even er voor geluncht en gerust had in de schaduw van een aantal bomen. Want het was vandaag ook best wel warm. Ambato is een stad van meer dan 200.000 inwoners dus het duurde wel even voordat ik in het centrum zat. Het is een vrij moderne stad want in de negentiende eeuw heeft men een aantal flinke aardbevingen te verduren gekregen. Veel echt oude huizen en kerken zijn er dan ook niet meer. Ingecheckt bij hotel Roka Plaza gevestigd in een oude koloniale woning en smaakvol ingericht met kunst en antiek. Dit is denk ik wel mijn duurste overnachting, zo'n 48 dollar inclusief ontbijt. Ze schijnen ook een goed restaurant te hebben. Na het douchen even gaan pinnen want mijn creditcard werd vreemd genoeg niet geaccepteerd. Technisch zat er iets niet goed. Daarna wat gaan rusten al was dat moeilijk want er was een trouwerij aan de gang in het hotel. Ondanks de herrie viel ik toch in slaap. Tegen zevenen opgestaan. Het feest was nog steeds bezig en sommige van de gasten waren echt strontzat en moesten ondersteund worden. Dan maar vanavond niet het restaurant van het hotel gaan uitproberen. Uitgeweken naar Restaurant El Alamo Chalet. Een beetje Duits / Oostenrijks sfeertje. Het eten was prima hier. Omdat ik morgen niet ga fietsen was ik van plan om het nachtleven van Ambato te verkennen. De eerste stop was Los Vinitos. Een tip van de Lonely Planet gids maar het viel me wat tegen en mijn tweede fles bier was niet echt koud. Tijd om op te stappen.  De tweede bar had 'Bear' in de naam staan. Maar ik vroeg me af of ze nu het zoogdier bedoelde of de Engelse term voor bier en dat ze een spelfout gemaakt hadden. Ik mocht naar binnen volgens de portier maar moest wel vijf dollar betalen. Ik kreeg dan meteen twee flessen bier en een glas in mijn handen gedrukt. Maar wat moet je nou in je eentje met 2 x 0,6 liter? Dat is zo lauw dus een van de flessen maar weggeschonken aan een aantal jongens. Er werd veel gedanst op Zuid Amerikaanse muziek. Maar na het opdrinken van mijn bier had ik het al snel gezien. Toch maar weer verder.  Vlak bij mijn hotel lag de Scrop bar met verschillende ruimtes. O.a. Een karaoke ruimte wat je wel meer zag in Ecuador. Uit principe ga ik hier nooit naartoe, ik heb echt geen zin om het geblèr van anderen te horen die mooie popliedjes verkrachten. Maar de Scrop bar had ook een dansruimte. Hier echter een heel ander publiek dan bij 'Bear'. Duidelijk succesvoller en rijker. Er werd voornamelijk cocktails, whisky’s en nauwelijks bier gedronken. Op de kaart stonden zelfs hele flessen whisky en andere sterke drank die je kon bestellen.  Bij Scrop tot een uur of twee gebleven toen terug naar mijn hotel. Daar was de deur al dicht en pikkedonker. Twee keer op de bel gedrukt maar geen resultaat. Toen maar eens goed op de ruit gebonsd op de plek waar ik wist waar de receptionist zou moeten zitten. En ja wel hoor daar kwam ze.

Zondag 17 december - Ambato Tot een uur of half negen blijven liggen. Lekker ontbeten en in alle rust want ik had de hele dag de tijd. Daarna de stad in. Omdat het zondag was waren veel winkels dicht. Eerst maar de drie belangrijke pleinen / parkjes van de stad afgelopen. En een kijkje genomen in de nieuwe kathedraal. Maar daar was natuurlijk een dienst aan de gang dus kon niet de hele kathedraal bekijken.  Doorgelopen naar de Mercado Central. Vergelijkbaar met die van Quito. Ook hier weer veel fruit, groente, vlees en op de bovenste verdieping kon er gegeten en gedronken worden. Hier zelf ook een heerlijke papaja vruchtendrank genomen. Door naar het grootste museum van de stad: Museo Provincial Casa del Portal. Volgens mijn reisgids zou deze op zondag open zijn. Maar helaas die informatie klopte niet meer. In ieder geval niet deze zondag. Dan maar door naar de botanische tuin met daarin gelegen een aantal historische villa's van rijke families uit Ambato. In de villa's alleen uitleg in het Spaans maar je kreeg door de foto’s en de originele inrichting toch een goed idee van het leven van deze families. Ook de wandeling door de botanische tuin is de moeite waard al is die hier en daar een beetje onderkomen. Hoogtepunt was de plek waar je vlakbij de Ambato rivier kon komen. En verder was het er lekker rustig, ook niet slecht om even weg te zijn van alle stads- en verkeerslawaai. Na twee en half uur had ik het gezien en terug naar het centrum gelopen wat zo'n twee kilometer van de tuin verwijderd lag. Door deze wandeling werd het me meteen duidelijk dat ik morgen Ambato beter via deze weg kon verlaten dan de route die ik oorspronkelijk had uitgestippeld. Koffie gedronken bij El Sabor. Nog wat inkopen gedaan voor de volgende dag.  Terug naar het hotel. Daar werd me verteld dat het restaurant vanavond gesloten was. Jammer ik had het graag uitgeprobeerd. 's Avonds weer gaan eten bij Restaurant El Alamo Chalet. Zeker ook geen slechte keuze. Tegen half tien naar bed. 

Maandag 18 december - Ambato - Pujili [GPS] Op tijd opgestaan en om half acht aan het ontbijt. Ik werd bediend door de kelner die me ook de eerste dag geholpen had bij de fiets opbergen en mijn bagage naar mijn kamer te brengen. Een prima kerel: Attent en geïnteresseerd.  Tegen kwart voor negen op weg na nog even gebabbeld te hebben met de kelner en receptioniste. Daarna op weg. Ik was pas een paar kilometer aan het fietsen toen ik in de verte een vakantiefietser met geel hesje voor me zag rijden. Ik dacht dat het de Zweed Lars was die ik in Baños had ontmoet. Langzaam maar zeker naderde ik de fietser en toen ik hem voorbij reed was ik nog steeds in de veronderstelling dat het Lars was. Lang, zestiger en een geel fluorescerend hesje. Maar het bleek Frans uit Amsterdam te zijn. Hij was net als Lars ook gepensioneerd en was met zijn eerste week Ecuador bezig en daarna zou hij doorsteken naar Colombia. Geweldig leven toch die pensionado's ik kan niet wachten :-). Een tijdje met Frans gebabbeld aan de kant van de weg.  Hij wilde aan de linkerkant de drukke E35 vermijden en ik wilde dat aan de rechterkant gaan doen. Dus afscheid genomen van Frans en mijn naam door gegeven. Als hij mij googled gaat hij me zeker vinden. Toen ik mijn fietstocht voorbereide dacht ik dat ik voor deze etappe een alternatieve route, een parallelweg langs de E35, had uitgestippeld. Maar ik kwam er al snel achter dat ik dit om een of andere reden toch niet gedaan had.  Foutje bedankt! Maar ik had geen zin om terug te rijden en besloot op de E35 te blijven rijden. Op zich viel dat ook best wel mee want er was een brede vluchtstrook. En het schoot lekker op. Bij San Miguel de Salcedo inkopen gedaan bij een winkeltje en wat water, tomaten en appels gekocht. Ik kreeg er zelfs nog gratis wat extra fruit bij.  In een parkje nabij maar een vroege lunch gedaan. Een mooie witte kerk en een koloniale woning had ik als uitzicht. Daarna verder op weg naar Latacunga om daar af te buigen naar Pujili. In Latacunga werd ik nog wat op gehouden door wegwerkzaamheden. Er was een nauwe doorgang opengelaten voor voetgangers maar de school was juist uit en het was er vol van uitgelaten scholieren. Overigens allemaal in schooluniform. Daarna steeg de weg langzaam tussen de 2 en 4 %. Goed te doen dus. Onderweg een aantal mooie muurschilderingen en een met standbeelden versierde rotonde. In Pujili op zoek naar mijn Hostal El Danzante wat ik via Booking.com had gereserveerd. Ik had het al snel gevonden maar het zag er een beetje verlaten uit en het stond te koop. De glazen deur werd met een houten lat dicht gehouden. Maar ik vond een bel en er werd gereageerd. De hartelijke eigenaar liet me meteen binnen. De fiets werd in een aparte kamer geplaatst. De eigenaar was hevig geïnteresseerd in de rohloff naaf en de aandrijfriem. Hij had zelf ook een mountainbike die in de gang van het hotel stond. Een met de naam 'agressor', een mooie tegenhanger van mijn Santos wat toch zoiets als heilige betekent. De kamer was netjes en prima in orde. En ook de douche had heerlijk warm water. Daarna het stadje even gaan verkennen. Er was ook een historisch centrum met een oude kerkje, een parkje en wat koloniale gebouwen waar nu de overheid in bevestigd was. En er was een bibliotheek. Even een kijkje genomen en uitgelegd dat ik in Nederland ook in een bibliotheek werkte. De medewerkster was echter zeer verlegen en bescheiden en durfde me nauwelijks te antwoorden. Maar er kwam nog een andere dame binnen. Yolanda was haar naam, ze sprak een beetje Engels en samen met mijn beetje Spaans was er toch een gesprek mogelijk.  Ze werkte voor het kanton van Pujili. Maar ze kon me ook wat over de bibliotheek vertellen. De meeste boeken waren vrij oud, velen zelfs antiquarisch, en konden alleen in de bibliotheek geraadpleegd worden. Een catalogus was er niet. Wel een stuk of twaalf pc's die nog steeds draaiden op Windows XP. Maar er kon op geïnternet worden. Facebook en het kijken van video's was verboden zag ik op een bordje staan.  Afscheid genomen van Yolanda. Van de bewaker van het koloniale overheidsgebouw mocht ik nog snel een blik op de binnenplaats werpen. Mooie muurschilderingen van denk ik beroemde / belangrijke mensen uit Pujili. Terug naar het hotel om de boodschappen, die ik onderweg gedaan had,  terug te brengen. Mijn hotel had namelijk geen ontbijt. Volgens de eigenaar waren er voldoende ontbijt mogelijkheden in de buurt. En dat zal best maar ik besloot op mijn kamer te ontbijten dan kon ik meteen wegrijden. Toch wel honger en daarom een hamburger genomen bij Rico Pollo naast mijn hotel. Rico Pollo is een snackbar keten die ik al vaker in Ecuador gezien had. Je kunt het een beetje vergelijken met McDonald’s maar je krijgt er wel nog mes en vork, een echt bord en ze brengen je bestelling naar je tafel. Een middagdutje gedaan en toen een eettentje gaan zoeken. Nog even gedacht aan Rico Pollo maar daar hebben ze volgens mij geen bier. Daarom een eettentje iets verderop genomen. Een kaart hadden ze niet al hingen er wat gerechten op de muur en de eigenaar somde snel de mogelijkheden op. Eenvoudig maar prima eten wat je inderdaad met een biertje kon doorspoelen.

Dinsdag 19 december - Pujili - Quilotoa [GPS] Op tijd opgestaan en ontbeten op mijn kamer. Tegen kwart voor negen op weg. Het was meteen klimmen geblazen om Pujili uit te komen. Ik was een kilometer of drie op weg toen Amsterdammer Frans langs de weg stond om me aan te moedigen. Hij ging ook naar Quilotoa maar hij had een auto met gids geregeld. Hij zal er een stuk eerder zijn dan ik. De klim liep geleidelijk omhoog. Zo nu en dan moet je natuurlijk even rusten, drinken en van het uitzicht genieten. Maar het klimmen ging lekker en ik kon een goed ritme houden. Onderweg mooie uitzichten. Volgens mijn teller zat ik op een gegeven moment op bijna 3800 meter. Maar daarna kreeg ik een stevige afdaling tot circa 3300 meter. Daarna klimmen naar Tigua dat op zo'n 3500 meter lag. Daarna weer dalen naar Zumbahua. Dit was vreemd want volgens mijn Lonely Planet gids zou dat juist hoger dan Tigua moeten liggen maar het lag een stuk lager. Als Quilotoa inderdaad op 3900 meter zou liggen dan zou ik nog flink moeten stijgen de laatste twaalf kilometer. Maar ook dit klopt gelukkig niet maar het lag wel een stuk hoger dan Zumbahua. Volgens de Lonely Planet zou het slechts 100 meter hoger moeten liggen maar volgend mijn Garmin maar ook volgens mijn benen was een stuk meer. De laatste vijf kilometer zat ik er helemaal doorheen. Zelfs als de stijging slechts vijf procent was kreeg ik mijn benen nog nauwelijks rond en regelmatig moest ik uitpuffen naast mijn fiets. Vreemd hoe snel je zo snel kunt inzakken. Dan moet ik toch een stuk hoger zitten. Er zaten ook een paar hele pittige en steile bochten bij. Gelukkig was er niet veel verkeer en kon ik de bochten als een spookrijder nemen. Ik wilde inchecken bij Hosteria Alpaka Quilotoa. Ze waren flink aan het uitbreiden dus ik moest even zoeken naar de receptie. In eerste instantie stond ik bij de verkeerde receptie en toen ik geen gehoor kreeg en geen personeel kon vinden dacht ik dan maar bij de buren. Bleek het uiteindelijk dezelfde hostal te zijn. Het inchecken ging rap en de douche was meteen warm. Pas de tweede keer deze vakantie! Het was behoorlijk fris in Quilotoa en me warm aangekleed voordat ik het dorp ging verkennen. Er wonen zo'n driehonderd mensen en volgens mij hebben ze bijna allemaal een souvenirwinkel, restaurant of hostal. Er was een mooi panorama platform gemaakt om het kratermeer te kunnen bekijken. Terug naar de hostal en onderweg geprobeerd om een restaurant te vinden. Maar de ene was dicht en het andere serveerde geen eten meer. Ik had natuurlijk nog wat meer restaurants kunnen aflopen maar ik vreesde dat de boodschap niet veel anders was. In mijn hostal kon ik wel eten. De kaart was klein en ook hiervan had men niet alles. Champignon soep en kip met veel vette friet. Het vulde in ieder geval wel. In het restaurant had men een potkachel staan. Geen overbodige luxe want het was koud!  Een aantal Fransen kwamen binnen met de vraag of zij hier nog konden eten want alle restaurant waren dicht. Het duurde zeker drie kwartier voordat ze wat kregen. Gelukkig was het bij mij sneller gegaan. Na het "diner" nog wat gebabbeld met wat andere gasten. Een internationaal gezelschap uit Zwitserland, Canada en Portugal. Maar tegen half tien naar bed. 

Woensdag 20 december -  Quilotoa - Isinlivi [GPS] Gisteren vergeten om te vragen hoe laat ik kon ontbijten. Tegen half acht stond ik in de eetzaal. De rest was er ook al en zij hadden gisteren wel gevraagd hoe laat het ontbijt startte. Half acht was het antwoord! Maar die ochtend was er geen personeel te zien. Op zoek naar het personeel maar die hadden zich behoorlijk verstopt. Naast de hostal stond een man zijn tractor vol te tanken. En aan hem gevraagd waar het personeel was en waar we konden ontbijten. Ik begreep hem niet helemaal maar we moesten in het grote gebouw zijn volgens hem. En ja hoor daar stonden de dames in de keuken. Het ontbijt werd dus geserveerd in de ruimte waar ik gisteren op zoek was naar het personeel om in te checken. De andere gasten ook maar even gehaald.  Het duurde nog even voordat het ontbijt geserveerd werd maar het was wel een prima ontbijtje. Het was wel koud in de ruimte en je kon elkaars adem zien. Afscheid genomen van de andere gasten en op weg. Nog even flink klimmen om Quilotoa uit te komen en daarna voornamelijk afdalen met een heel enkele keer een stevig klimmetje. Een mooie weg die volgens mij gedeeltelijk pas nieuw aangelegd was. Verkeer was er nauwelijks. Ik had in eerste instantie een stuk offroad uitgestippeld maar het was een klein beetje aan het miezeren dus besloot ik maar op de asfaltweg te blijven rijden. Ik schoot goed op. Mooie vergezichten onderweg, kleine dorpjes en hier en daar wat landbouw. En zelfs een mooie haciënda compleet met arena voor het stierenvechten. In Sigchos aangekomen nam ik een offroad weg naar Isinlivi  Eerst vijf kilometer flink dalen. Toch ging ik maar zo'n tien kilometer per uur omdat de weg er slecht bij lag met veel kuilen, stenen, gruis etc. In de eerste kilometer blokkeerde een jonge zwarte stier mijn weg. Maar hij bleef gelukkig rustig. Via een bruggetje een riviertje overgestoken. Meestal begint daarna de stijging en zo ook hier. Sommige stukken waren pittig maar meestal viel de stijging wel mee. Maar de slechte ondergrond maakte het al moeilijk genoeg. Er was weinig tot geen verkeer. Toch maar even bij een vrachtwagenchauffeur gevraagd of dit de route naar Isinlivi was en ook bij een passerende boer voor de zekerheid nog eens nagevraagd. Ik had de route van te voren wel uitgestippeld maar Isinlivi stond, vreemd genoeg, niet op mijn opensource map en onderweg kwam ik een aantal keren een verwijzing tegen naar Isinlivi die een andere richting aangaf dan de route die ik uitgestippeld had.  Maar zowel het antwoord van de vrachtwagenchauffeur als van de boer bevestigde dat ik mijn route goed uitgestippeld had. Na zes kilometer stijgen zat ik weer net zo hoog als waar ik in Sigchos begonnen was. Ik bleef nu een aantal kilometer op ongeveer gelijke hoogte. Ik zag scholieren naar huis lopen dus Isinlivi was niet ver meer. Nog even gebabbeld met twee boertjes die vroegen waar ik vandaan kwam en hoeveel mijn fiets kostte. Ingecheckt bij Llullu Llama. Het zat er boordevol toeristen. Een gezellige sfeer met al die Belgen, Nederlanders, Zuid-Amerikanen, Zweden, Amerikanen etc. Ook de eerste keer sinds Quito dat ik bij de receptie meteen in het Engels aangesproken werd want het receptiepersoneel bestond uit buitenlanders. Ik kon kiezen voor een slaapzaal of meteen een heel huisje voor me alleen. Maar ik vond het prijsverschil wel erg groot dus besloot voor de slaapzaal te gaan. 's Avonds prima en gezellig gegeten bij Llullu Llama want alle gasten aten samen aan een paar grote tafels. Daarna nog nagetafeld met een aantal flinke potten craftbeer. Tegen tienen naar bed. Morgen zal best een pittig dagje worden.

Donderdag 21 december - Isinlivi - Lasso [GPS 1+ 2] Tegen zeven uit de veren maar het ontbijt begon pas om acht uur. Buiten gekeken naar de wolken die tussen de bergen voorbij dreven. Het panorama was hierdoor telkens anders. Het was een goed ontbijt bij Llullu Llama en tegen negenen op weg. Meteen flink klimmen om Isinlivi uit te komen en de weg zou de eerste vijftien kilometer blijven stijgen tot circa 3800 meter. Zo'n duizend meter stijgen over een gravelweg. Dat viel zeker niet mee en zo’n stijging had ik ook niet verwacht. Mijn gemiddelde was slechts vijf kilometer per uur de eerste vijftien kilometer. Vanaf kilometer tien tot en met twaalf  bleef het enigszins op gelijke hoogte tot lichte stijging. Ik dacht dan ook even dat ik het gehad had maar de drie kilometer daarna waren toch behoorlijk pittig. Dat kwam natuurlijk door de hoogte maar ook de gravel speelde een rol. Mijn achterwiel had soms weinig grip. Eindelijk afdalen maar door de gravel moest ik dit voorzichtig doen. Zo nu en dan schoof  mijn fiets een beetje door. Daarna veranderde de ondergrond, want ik nam een afslag, in aangestampte klei. Dat reed eigenlijk best lekker maar de klei veranderde in mul zand waar soms niet doorheen te fietsen was. Op zoek dus naar aangestampte stukken. Maar dat was de eerste zes kilometer niet altijd het geval. Zo nu en dan ook stukjes moeten lopen en mijn fiets door het mulle zand moeten duwen. Het was meer een parcours voor Mathieu van der Poel. Ondertussen was het mistig geworden en begon het zacht te regenen. Het was daarom nog moeilijker geworden om over de "weg" te rijden en ik had geen idee waar ik precies zat en wat er om me heen was. Zo nu en dan hoorde ik in de verte muziek of hoorde ik honden blaffen.  Gelukkig begon ik weer wat meer af te dalen en het mulle zand werd iets minder. Toen ik door een klein dorpje reed werd de weg wat beter. Het zand werd vervangen door kasseistroken die in Parijs Roubaix niet zouden misstaan. Maar na enige tijd toch eindelijk weer asfalt onder mijn wielen. Ik daalde dan ook snel verder. Voor mij werd een motorrijder belaagd door honden. Daarna was ik natuurlijk hun nieuwe slachtoffer. Maar kinderen langs de weg hielpen mij en begonnen de honden te bekogelen met stenen. Goed zo! Het was niet de eerste keer dat ik in Ecuador belaagd werd door honden. Nu komt dat overal wel eens voor maar Ecuador is toch wel de top op dit gebied. Gelukkig zijn ze meestal niet groot. Eindelijk bij de E35 aangekomen en was toch al tegen vijven dus het werd tijd voor een overnachtingadres. Ik zag een reclamebord van haciënda San Agustin de Callo. Dat leek me wel wat om nog een keer op een haciënda te overnachten. Maar ik wist niet hoeveel kilometer het van de hoofdweg af lag. De batterij van mijn Garmin had er ondertussen de brui aan gegeven dus daar kon ik het ook niet op zien. Een oude man gevraagd en hij vertelde me dat het ongeveer twee kilometer was. Dat was te overzien dus op naar de haciënda.   Het was inderdaad ongeveer twee kilometer plus de veldweg die me naar de haciënda bracht. Helaas men was helemaal volgeboekt. De receptionist die goed Engels sprak vertelde me dat het hoogseizoen was. Voor mij was het de eerste keer in Ecuador dat er geen plaats was. Zo nu en dan was ik zelfs de enige gast of kon ik kiezen uit meerdere kamers. Maar hier was het dus vol. Jammer! Terug naar de hoofdweg, terug naar Lasso. Naderhand de prijzen van de haciënda op hun site bekeken en een overnachting bleek zo’n 400 dollar te kosten incl. maaltijden en excursie. Iets minder dan de helft van wat ik in 3 weken Ecuador heb uitgegeven :-)  Een stukje van de weg afgereden en juist toen ik wilde gaan vragen zag ik een soort motel liggen. Het zag er donker en gesloten uit maar toen ik het terrein op reed hoorde ik 'buenos tardes senor' en stond de receptioniste van Hosteria Cotopaxi Tour voor mijn neus. En ze hadden plaats. Volgens mij was ik hun enige gast. Hier dus geen hoogseizoen. Ik kon er zelfs nog eten in het restaurant mits ik uiterlijk om zevenen zou komen eten want om acht ging het restaurant dicht. Kamer één kreeg ik. Maar terwijl ik mijn fietstassen naar binnen aan het dragen was hoorde ik constant de rookmelder piepen. Een teken dat de batterij vernieuwd moet worden. Terug naar de receptie om te vragen of ze de batterij konden vervangen. Volgens de receptioniste was het normaal dat de rookmelder piepte. Haar uitgelegd dat dit niet het geval was. Ze had geen reserve batterij en ik kreeg een andere kamer.  Helaas was het water van de douche niet warm. Ik heb de douche wel tien minuten laten lopen maar geen resultaat. Dan maar wat sneller douchen. Tegen zevenen me gemeld bij het restaurant. Prima eten alleen het bier was lauw. Maar ik was al blij dat ik hier kon eten. Maar wat een verschil met gisteravond toen ik met allerlei mensen kon babbelen, eten en een biertje kon pakken. Vandaag was ik solemio. Maar naar bed gegaan en onder de dekens liggen lezen. Dat is ook geen straf. Zeker niet na zo'n intensief dagje waar eigenlijk niets ging zoals ik het verwacht had. Eigenlijk had ik twintig kilometer noordelijker willen zitten vandaag maar dat was me niet gelukt.

22 december - Lasso - Quito [GPS] Tegen achten gaan ontbijten. Deze keer zelfs met ham en kaas. Het ontbijt kostte vijf dollar maar toen ik met een twintig dollar biljet wilde betalen had men geen wisselgeld. Dus voordat ik kon vertrekken moest ik eerst op zoek naar wisselgeld. Bij een winkeltje wat water gekocht en nu kon ik het ontbijt ook betalen. Ik begon eigenlijk meteen te klimmen vanuit Lasso. De eerste vier kilometer nog geleidelijk maar de volgende tien waren toch wel stevig. Ik schat gemiddeld zeker zeven procent. De E35 was druk maar door de brede vluchtstrook had ik er weinig last van. Grotendeels bestond de weg uit drie rijstroken per rijrichting. Na veertien kilometer had ik een gemiddelde van 9,5 km per uur. Maar de volgende vijftien ging flink naar beneden en mijn gemiddelde steeg. Zo'n veertien kilometer voor Quito werd het een stuk drukker en zo nu en dan werd de weg ook smaller of was de vluchtstrook verdwenen. Minder prettig rijden dus. Geluncht bij een tankstation waar je een mooi uitzicht had op de bergen. Als je eenmaal in Quito bent is het klimmen zeker nog niet afgelopen en ik heb zeker nog twee flinke hellingen moeten beklimmen die me tot boven de drieduizend meter brachten. Ver beneden mij lag Quito. Gereden over de Av. Simon Boulevard die me dicht bij het centrum bracht. Daarna afdalen naar de stad. De hele etappe van vandaag was toch zo'n zeventig kilometer lang geweest.  Weer ingecheckt bij Community Hostel. Na het douchen mijn fiets ingepakt. Mijn fietsdoos hadden ze gelukkig bewaard. In de berging stonden nog twee fietsen die van twee Fransen bleken te zijn die een fietstocht maakten door Colombia, Ecuador en Peru. 's Avonds goed gegeten bij de "Chinees" waar ik bij de start van mijn vakantie ook al een keer gegeten had. Daarna koffie gaan drinken bij San Mateo's. Vervolgens neergestreken bij de bar van Bandido Brewery. Heerlijke getapte biertjes hier maar belachelijk veel personeel achter de bar. Ik telde er vijf terwijl ze het volgens mij ook gemakkelijk met zijn tweeën hadden afgekund.

23 december - Quito Mijn laatste uurtjes in Quito. Nog even genieten van het zonnige weer en de Zuid-Amerikaanse sfeer. Wat door het oude centrum gelopen, koffie gedronken bij San Mateo's en geluncht bij een van de eetstalletjes van de Mercado Central. Terug naar Community Hostel om te worden opgepikt voor de transfer naar het vliegveld. Om twee uur afgesproken maar de chauffeur, Omar, was er nog niet. Om tien over twee kwam hij aanzetten. “Oeps we hebben een probleem meneer ik wist niet dat ik jou met de fiets moest wegbrengen” was zijn antwoord. “Ik heb namelijk om half drie een excursie met een groep mensen en dan heb ik de van nodig. Het plan was eigenlijk dat mijn vrouw je naar het vliegveld zou brengen maar in die auto past geen fiets”. Ai! Ik had het de receptionist van de hostel nog zo gezegd dat het een grote auto moest zijn in verband met de fiets. Ik dacht er al aan om een pick-up truck op straat aan te houden en een fikse beloning te geven als die me naar het vliegveld zou brengen. Maar Omar was al aan het proberen om de fietsdoos in de auto van zijn vrouw te duwen. Dat ging natuurlijk niet lukken. Kan de achterbank niet naar beneden vroeg ik dan past het wellicht. Maar dat ging niet. Omar had een oplossing en kwam terug met touw, een spanband en een drietal spinnen. De fietsdoos werd op het dak van de auto gelegd en stevig vastgebonden. Op zich lag het solide maar of het ook zou blijven liggen als we over de snelweg naar het vliegveld zou rijden inclusief alle steile afdalingen en stijgingen?  In mijn verbeelding zag ik de fietsdoos al over de voorruit schuiven. Maar Omar had er alle vertrouwen in. Vamos op weg naar het vliegveld! Ondanks de drukte in het begin van de rit arriveerden we binnen drie kwartier op het vliegveld. Bij de incheckbalie kreeg ik meteen voorrang wegens de grote fietsdoos en binnen dertig minuten had ik dan ook alles achter de rug en zat ik in een "outback café" vlakbij mijn gate koffie te drinken. Al met al ging het sneller dan ik dacht al was het even peentjes zweten. Nog even op internet. Het wifi wachtwoord was niet voor vegetariërs bedoel want dat was "eatmoresteak". Maar toen ik terug bij de gate was werd mijn naam opgeroepen en moest ik mij melden bij de balie. Mijn fiets moest extra gecheckt worden en ik moest mee naar de bagageafhandeling. De doos werd opgesneden en er werd naar de fiets gekeken. Daarna ging ik en mijn fiets naar de vliegveldpolitie en kreeg ik wat extra vragen gesteld zoals ‘is het een nieuwe fiets en heb je die hier gekocht’, ‘heb je hier competitie gereden’ en ‘welke route heb je gereden en of ik dat kon  bewijzen met foto’s’. Die foto’s had ik op mijn iPad staan en na nog wat getikt te hebben op het frame van mijn fiets werd ik geloofd. Mijn fietsdoos werd opnieuw dichtgeplakt en ik kon weer naar de incheckbalie. Wat een gezeur allemaal maar het was wel eens interessant om achter de schermen van de bagageafhandeling van een vliegveld te kunnen kijken. De vlucht verliep voorspoedig en omdat ik ’s nachts vloog ook redelijk wat geslapen. Klokslag half twee landde ik op Schiphol. Een geslaagde vakantie was weer voorbij.

Handige links en literatuur

Lonely Planet Ecuador & The Galapagos Islands

Ecuador dagboek van Wim Leeuw

Fietsreizen van eenzame fietser Erik Nomden

Reisverslag Ecuador familie van Velzen

Alexander Ramselaar

Cycletours groeps fietsvakantie Ecuador [mijn vakantie is gebaseerd op deze route]

Mijn foto’s van deze fietsvakantie op Flickr

Mijn GPS routes door Ecuador

[lairofdragonagelore]

Arbor Wilds: Temple of Mythal - Part 3

Main Quest: What Pride Had Wrought

The Temple of Mythal was a place of justice, where petitioners walked religious rites of passage in order to have their pleas for justice heard by Mythal. According to some, it is also the site of some mysterious religious artefact called the vir'abelasan.

This post contains the following sections

Entrance to the Temple

The Rituals

Ancient Crypts: Red Templar's way

[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]  

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore]

Entrance to the Temple 

The entrance to the temple is enormous. Its door is waiting for activation via the rituals/puzzles. At its sides there are two gigantic, decayed mosaics of Mythal. In the small corridor of the door, there are four Dragon Myhtal statues. In the corridor, we find this curious vallaslin ink object that we had only seen it before in the The Lost Temple of Dirthamen.

The Rituals [Puzzles]

In this post, Diirthata-ma shows the name of the game files [I’m unable to have access to these by myself] which represent the puzzles. I thought it could potentially give us some hints about the statues used in them. So, the name of these ritual I use here were given by the game files.

Elgar'nan Ritual

The first puzzle, the easiest and shortest one, is named Elgar'nan ritual. It's decorated with archer statues [that by now I suspect we can consider them as Shadow Sentinels], and on a rail of one of the stairs that lead to the puzzle, we find a small Red inuksuk. So far, I still keep the interpretation that these objects are related to sacrifice and blood.

The entryway to this puzzle is decorated with a Sylaise's golden mosaic. I feel this is very fitting, since Elgar'nan is fury of great power [read the codices in the Temple of Mythal and in Vir Dirthara related to him]  while Sylaise is as brutal as him considering the only non-Dalish codex we have: Song to Sylaise. Both figures are entities of fury, fire, and wrath in some degree. Sylaise seems to be a bit envious or competitive even. 

Fen'Harel's ritual

The second puzzle, with a lever, is Fen'Harel's ritual. It’s a puzzle with two potential interpretations: One, ironically, is that this puzzle needs you to be trapped in order to solve it [as a meaning to represent how he sealed the others gods, including himself (Cole says the wold chew his own leg to escape), to save the world], probably a poetic twist implemented by the Devs than something that the original Elvehan would have considered in the creation of this ritual. Another interpretation [more in-game and more “Evanuris”] is that this is the trickiest puzzle because the lever, and thus it represents Fen’Harel in the sense that you need cunning to solve it. [Unlike what wiki says, you don’t need to fail first to solve it. It has several different ways to be solved without failing it, it’s just a matter of tricks.]

To no one's surprise, it has several statues of Fen'Harel, in sitting and howling position.

Dirthamen's ritual

This is the longest one, which needs you to jump across different levels of the puzzle. It starts in the part of the chamber decorated with Elven Owl statues, and finishes in the one decorated with Elven hart statues. Due to the fact this is a puzzle that represents Dirthamen, gods of knowledge and secrets, it seems to present a duality [owl and hart] as usually Dirthamen/Falon’Din seem to exist in the iconography. 

That the owl is present here, seems to have some reason: we have read in the game a codex saying that the owl could be considered the messenger animal of Dirthamen [as well of Andruil], but the hart seems to be a curious association. We know that the unreliable Dalish Tales relate hart figures with Ghilan’nain [for example, Ameridan did it in the DLC], and in the The Lost Temple of Dirthamen (Part 2), we find a red mosaic of Ghilan’nain [this association a bit more trustworthy].  In the codex Ancient Elven Writing [detailed and analysed in Ancient Elven codices, Temple of Mythal], there is a subtle relationship between Ghilan’nain and a servant of Dirthamen. 

Therefore, Dirthamen and Ghilan’nain may have had some particular kind of relationship which is not clear to define with the information we have in game. It could have been an alliance or a rivalry of some kind. Honestly, considering Dirthamen’s dual existence with Falon’Din, I would have expected this puzzle to have more visuals of Falon’Din, as all things related to Dirthamen have and vice-versa.

The entryway to Dirthamen’s puzzle is decorated with June's golden mosaic, which triggers the codex The Mystery of June, detailed and analysed in Ancient Elven codices, Temple of Mythal.

The only reason I can find to explain why two of these puzzles have entryways with mosaics of June and Sylaise, is because both of them have a portfolio of crafting in common. In the codices Vir Dirthara: Raising the Sonallium and in Song to Sylaise [detailed in Ancient Elven codices; Vir Dirthara and in  Ancient Elven codices, Temple of Mythal] we can see that Sylaise is also dedicated to some aspect of the arts of crafting or related to architecture. Both of them may have been responsible of the construction of many of these buildings, in my opinion. 

Once the puzzles are finished, the main door to the temple glows in blue and we are granted the access to the Petitioning Chamber.

Ancient Crypts: Red Templar's way

If we follow the hole on the ground left by the Red Templars, we have access to something that the game names “Ancient Crypts”. When we ask Morrigan’s opinion on this place, she says that it looks more like a fortress than a Temple.

The crypts present the most creepy murals from the post Nation Art: Elvhen

This place has decorations and structures similar to Dirthamen’s Temple or in general, similar to any elvhen crypt [like Dinan’Hanin]. As all elvhenan crypts, they are made with rough stones, and less decorated door frames and arcs.

The walls have these typical paintings. The only one I didn’t find is the Armoured figure from Nation Art: Elvhen.  We even find these reptilian drawings in the Temple of Mythal. This repetition in so many elvhen places makes me consider this as part of a lore we don’t understand yet, and not just a Bioware joke about krogans. 

From dozen and dozen of screenshots we see most of the object we have seen in crypt-like scenarios like the Lost Temple of Dirthamen: different inuksuit, urns, Elvhen funerary lid, generic dead bodies, and some Red inuksuk [I kept this cute one, so small].

It’s in the crypts where we find Untranslatable Elven Writing which is Abelas’ confession about how he and his people at the temple endure their duty.  Details in the post Ancient Elven codices, Temple of Mythal.

Ahead, we find another: Unreadable Elven Writing, which narrates about a unique and brutal weapon developed by Andruil, a golden spear. It’s not clear if this is like a codex that represents the main rival of Mythal. We can imagine that Andruil may have had a lot of resentment towards Mythal since they both fought and Mythal erased her memory of how to access to the Void [codex Elven God Andruil, detailed in Ancient Elven codices, Temple of Mythal].

One of the many chambers of this crypt has a pair of Fen’Harel statues with the painting of the elves in battle. This makes me strengthen the idea that this mural painting represents a Rebellion more than a battle. 

Next chamber, we find a broken Dragon Myhtal statue, with the painting of the dragon on the wall [which in several other situations seems to be a dragon that guides the painting of the elves ridding into battle] and in another section of the wall, we find the slaved elves, without face and heart.  There are more snuksuit and more paintings of elves with vallaslin.

In one of the darkest chambers, we find an isolated statue of a hart. 

Arbor Wilds: Temple of Myhtal - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[lairofdragonagelore]

Arbor Wilds: Temple of Mythal in detail

The Temple of Mythal was a place of justice, where petitioners walked religious rites of passage in order to have their pleas for justice heard by Mythal. According to some, it is also the site of some mysterious religious artefact called the vir'abelasan.

This post is similar to Arbor Wilds: Temple of Mythal - Part 4, but it is not analysed within the context of the main quest. This is a more detailed exploration and analysis of the chambers.

[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore]

Petitioning Chamber

The ground mosaic in the petitioning chamber is the standard one used in most elvhen ruins. What I always highlight in it is the asterisk symbol that we have seen in elvhen murals to represent orbs or titan’s heart. It is inside a structure of circles and triangles that may suggest a sun inside a double circle. At the corner, we find a figure which outline looks like the shape of Dragon Mythal’s frame doors.

It’s very interesting that the brazier in most of the rooms of the temple are placed on the very centre of this mosaic, on the “asterisk” symbol. Similar detail happens in some elven murals, where the braziers of Veilfire are placed on the circles with the asterisk symbol on it.  When there is no brazier or fire, the idea is to place a person on the asterisk symbol which gathers all the focus of the room, as it seems to work in the petitioning chamber or in the Fen’Harel rooms along the Temple. 

The entrance of the chamber shows a disposition of statues and mosaics.

Mythal statues everywhere doesn’t seem odd considering this is her temple; she is the entity that will impart justice in this chamber [or her high priest]. What is curious are the details around the chamber:

There are unique banners hanging from the sides of this chamber. I didn’t see them before in game. Probably this is related to Mythal or Elvhenan symbology. It’s a flower of many petals, and many many dots to a side. The other side of the flower seems to have just lines. Once more, Flowering Imago from Ancient Elven codices; Vir Dirthara comes to mind, the idea of several wills [dots] feeding flower.

At the sides of the platform where Abelas speaks there are two mosaics: Falon’Din’s and June’s.

This is very curious. They are not central, so it’s hard to see them when you have just stepped into this chamber, but they are more easy to see as you approach the main platform. 

There are two small stages aside the main platform, with a long brown rug decorated with spherical trees. Each stage is closer to one of the mosaics. Imparting justice in this place may have had results that would lead to Falon’Din’s path or June’s. A path or judgement to Death (?), or one of… reuse? to be crafted anew? June is a mystery so far. We know he is related to the art of crafting in some ways, but we also know it’s not exactly in the ways Dalish think so.

On the other hand, giving followers to Falon’Din in judgements seems to be a terrible idea if we take into account what Solas told us in Part 2. But this temple may have been worked in this way before that event. Things may have been different until Falon’Din killed some of  Mythal’s servants.

Each of these mosaics is beside a door. I think it seems reasonable to assume that those that were judged in a way or another, got a result that was associated with Falon’Din’s field [I suppose related to death] would leave the chamber through that door. In game, it’s blocked and goes nowhere if you cross it with fly-camera.

Now, the door beside June’s mosaic leads us to the Inner Sactum. Is this mosaic a representation of what June crafted in this Temple? Did June build the Vir’abelasan? Or this journey along Inner Sanctum grants a transformation of the persona that seems like a being “crafted” anew? 

Remember that in the Courtyard, June and Sylase were in the entryways of the ritual-puzzles, giving the impression that this was a “sign” of their work, those mosaics were there to denote they were the ones responsible of crafting them.  Maybe the same can be applied here. Even though it’s a bit more obscure since the opposite wall displays Falon’Din’s mosaic. All these questions and assumptions seem to be too much for my taste. There is so little we can use to infer with some degree of certainty. 

The mural paintings of elves riding towards a battle can’t be overlooked [these murals are analysed a bit in Nation Art: Elvhen]. They are everywhere in this chamber and in the last part of the temple. It could represent the battle against the different Evanuris, probably using troops made of their own followers, but also it seems to be related to the battle for rebellion, since it has appeared in the ancient Crypts in a small chamber with sitting Fen’Harel statues. It could also be related to the battle against the Titans. It’s hard to know because the game has never ever gave us a lead to how understand that painting. 

There are two ways to enter the Inner Sanctum: Forced [red line in the map] or Allowed [blue line in the map]. When we are allowed to enter,  you have to follow an Elvhen Guide who grants you access to a unique chamber that, otherwise, you wouldn’t see [where most of the codices of the Temple of Mythal are placed]. The Guide opens secret doors and makes us avoid the combat against the red templars. Some rooms are separated just by a fence, which allows us to see what’s going on at the other side of the chamber. The Forced path is the one less rich in terms of details. It’s mostly rooms with minimal decoration and sentinel fighters. 

Allowed Path [Blue]

Chamber M

The name of the rooms refer to the map of the beginning of this post. 

The immediate chamber we are introduced, as we follow the Guide, is a small room with a golden statue and mosaic of Mythal. Here is where we can trigger the codex “The Judgment of Mythal” analysed in Ancient Elven codices, Temple of Mythal. [Note on the asterisk symbol of the ground mosaic: Mythal statue is placed on the asterisk. There is another asterisk without anything on it.]

In front of the mosaic there is a rug with a pattern that looks like stars. I guess it may be used by the followers to sit and pray in front of her mosaic. The statue has the detail to be named “Statue of Mythal”, so there is no way we can question this. 

Chamber D

We continue towards the Chamber D using a corridor. From afar we see that at the end of the next room there is a Mosaic of Dirthamen.

We reach to a unique chamber that we can’t have access to if we antagonise Abelas. 

Here, there are four mosaics that trigger some codices, and a rune, on a wall that the screenshot does not show, because it is opposite to Dirthamen’s mosaic. [Note on the asterisk symbol of the ground mosaic: there is a brazier on it]

The mosaics are Elgar’nan’s, which triggers “Song to Elgar'nan”; Ghilan’nain’s, which triggers “The Ascension of Ghilan'nain”; Dirthamen’s, which triggers the very suspicious and unreliable “Twins in Shadow” [I would love to hear a dev to tell us that this codex here is a mistake. What is this scholar doing here? Abelas and his sentinels would have never allowed a human to do anything to their gods’ mosaics. The author of this codex, a contemporaneous scholar, makes no sense to be found on this mosaic. This is painful to me]. Fen’Harel’s mosaic does not trigger anything.

The rune on the opposite wall triggers “Unreadable Elven Writing”. This same codex can be found in the Ancient Crypts if we skip the rituals to enter the Temple, but since we are following the path of the Guide, it’s obvious that we solved the rituals and didn’t explored the Crypts. This means that the devs considered this codex so important for the player that they made sure they would read it no matter what path you follow. 

It’s curious that in Inner Sanctum, we cannot find any mosaic of Andruil. The only reference to her is this rune [there are also the owl statues that could be her messengers, or the hart statues, but both animals are not unequivocal representation of her]. This rune speaks about the construction of a weapon, a golden spear, which use will be catastrophic. [For more details, Ancient Elven codices, Temple of Mythal] I think there is more meaning for this to appear as a rune and not as a mosaic. The lack of an explicit mosaic of Andruil seems to speak of an enmity with Mythal. At the same time, a veilfire rune, which preserves memories and information much better than a mosaic which can fall apart over time, may imply that the people writing this wanted the message to exist even despite the worse conditions. However, Andruil has a place in Mythal’s temple: outside, in the ritual garden, inside a room that looked like a golden cage. One for her, another for Falon’Din [maybe the most problematic Evanuris for Mythal?]. 

Each of the mosaics have a rug in front of them.  Since this chamber follows the room M, focused only on Mythal, and it’s protected by the activation of the secret paths by the Guide, one could suspect this is a room where Mythal’s allies are represented. 

Fen’Harel has always been a good friend of Mythal. There are many proofs from Solas, defending her memory, but the most important one for me is Flemeth in the last seconds of the game, calling him Old Friend.  Fen’Harel has always been her friend, and Fen’Harel has always respected Mythal, considering her the best of all the Evanuris. 

Elgar’nan may not have been a friend, but his trust in her is undeniable. He gave Mythal the ability to impart justice so his fury would not go out of control for every argument [codex: The Judgment of Mythal]. He also trusted her wisdom when Falon’Din tried to start a war against him [codex: Duel of a Hundred Years].

There is no information about the relationship between Mythal and Ghilan’nain, but given the fact that there are two mosaics of allies in this room one can suspect that she belongs to allies too. Or at least, she was an ally in the beginning.

We know there is a relationship between Dirthamen and Ghilan’nain [Red mosaic of Ghilan’nain in The Lost Temple of Dirthamen, and her involvement in suggesting one of the servants of Dirthamen to take Divine shape, codex: Ancient Elven Writing in the Ancient Crypts of Temple of Mythal ] that may have been extended to Mythal, whoever of them had a deeper link with her. 

I suppose Dirthamen had a relationship with Mythal since in Flemeth’s Fade we see a statue that the game has unreliably suggested to represent Dirthamen, stabbed and bleeding. But due to his duality nature with Falon’Din, it could be him, being bled as Solas told us that Mythal had to do with the rest of the Evanuris to stop Falon’Din. It’s always a problem to understand anything with those two involved. 

I suppose that the Veilfire rune present in this room, in this particular context, can be interpreted as a Warning for the supposed allies of Mythal. After all, the rune speaks of a terrible weapon made by Andruil. 

F’H Room

[Note on the asterisk symbol of the ground mosaic: there is a brazier on it]

The next room has two sitting Fen’Harel statues and a rug in between. It’s not clear if this is a place to pray for him since the rug is in front of a wall without a mosaic [of we follow the pattern in most rooms], but it could also be prayed at the statues, I guess. There are some broken funerary lids in the southern corner of this room.

Sy Room

Next room is Sylaise’s. [Note on the asterisk symbol of the ground mosaic: there is a brazier on it].

She has one full room for her in Mythal’s Temple. This is very curious to me. There is a mosaic of her that triggers the “Song to Sylaise”, which is the only real codex we have about her non-based on Dalish legends.  In front of it there is a rug to pray in front of her, and two elven hart statues, which are rare objects to find here. We know little about the true Sylaise [the one which is not based on Dalish Tales], and so far I know, we connect the hart symbol with Andruil or Ghilan’nain. That these harts are positioned as guardians around her mosaic, may have similar meaning to those located around Dirthamen’s mosaic? Is the Hart a shared favoured animal between Sylaise and Andruil? Or this is a symbol to show that Andruil and Sylaise were allies?  If that were case, would Mythal allow a single room for praying to her? Tons of questions, none answer. 

Corridor with Archers

The Allowed path lets us explore a broad over-flood corridor. There are no mosaics here, but only two archers that point nothing. Similar configuration was found in The Lost Temple of Dirthamen - Part 2, in the Path of Secrets.

I’m not sure if this could be understood as something related to Andruil or The People. There is no much to conclude here. 

Room 3

This is the room where both path, Forced [red] and Allowed [blue], gather once more.

From the corridor with Archers, we open a sealed door and have access to this room where we see a stair with a painting of the black dragon [Nation Art: Elvhen] on the walls heading up, inviting the walker to go upstairs. I suppose this will imply a meaning of ascension [we are getting close to the Vir’abelasan], while on the ground level’s wall we see the “zombie” elves. 

The stair rails are decorate with many small Mythal statues. There are no imposing statues of her outside the petitioning chamber and the M room. And even in those rooms the statues are rather medium.

F’H Golden Halla

At the top of the stairs we find what I called “F’H Golden Halla”

[Note on the asterisk symbol of the ground mosaic: the place is free for the person who would contemplate the hidden room could stand on it.]

Howling Fen’Harel statues guard a secret room where there is only a golden halla painting [Nation Art: Elvhen] and some minor loot. This small room can’t be seen by those who forced their entrance, since it’s our Guide who opens it. It seems to be a secret messenger to those who are friend to Mythal. 

Or maybe this whole configuration means that Fen’Harel [Howling wolf] is guarding “the people” [represented in the Golden Halla, a Halla that is valuable because it’s golden like all the golden statues and mosaics in the temple that only represent Evanuris].  

It could also mean a small tribute to Fen’Harel’s work:  if the halla represents The People, Fen’Harel statues at the sides of what looks like a small, humble chapel would suggest that the real entity that should be worshipped is The People? So many holes in the many, many elvhen symbols we have in the game. 

The Halla faces, bellow and across the room, directly to the ascending dragon. Both images are very well framed in the configuration of the room. Not sure if it means anything, but it’s a detail that stands out if you spin in this place. 

Rooms 4

In this part, we see the last fighters of the elvhen, killing Red Templars.  There are more mural paintings of the battle elves and the dragon from the room 3. If we see the connotation, it is as if this dragon were guiding the zombie elves from the previous room, at the ground level, into battle: now they became these elves that fight guided by the dragon. It’s hard to know when these murals were done, if they were always part of the Temple since the construction of it or were decorations made after, during the last times of the Evanuris. If we could know this, it would allow us to develop many different interpretations.

By walking past a small figure of Mythal, we leave the room heading into the garden where we find the Vir’abelasan. 

Once more, Mythal appears in non-imposing sizes. She is always small, decorative, while what’s truly imposing and overwhelming is the mural of the battle.

Forced Path [Red]

The only two rooms we don’t see if we go through the Allowed path are Mu Room and Room 2

Mu Room

The only particularity that this room has is that it has four mural paintings: two standing elves on a side and two in fighting position with a shield, on the opposite wall.

It also has a small decorative pool.

From here we can see the superior rooms: Room 2 and 4.

One would suspect these murals are as old as the temple, and were intended to be part of it, simply because the walls where they are painted on are not “old golden”.  It seems to be meant that these drawings would be part of these walls from the construction of the temple. They do not look like “graffiti”. 

Room 2

This room has nothing to add. It has a squared pool too, less pretty than the one below. 

These three rooms [Mu Room, Room 2, and 4], can be seen at the same time since they are placed in the same space but at different levels. [Note on the asterisk symbol of the ground mosaic: none of these rooms have this ground mosaic.]