#Templar Order of the Golden Age

[whencyclopedia]

Order of the Garter

The Most Noble Order of the Garter is the highest order of knighthood in Britain and the most exclusive with traditionally only 24 knights as full members at any one time, along with the reigning monarch and the Prince of Wales. Created by Edward III of England c. 1348 CE, the chivalric order was one of the first of a growing trend where rulers and noble knights sought to differentiate themselves from the increasing number of knights in the late medieval period. The order's annual gathering at Saint George's Chapel at Windsor Castle, with its magnificent procession of members and retainers in full regalia, maintains the traditions of pomp and pageantry for which the Middle Ages are rightly famous.

Origins

The Order of the Garter was created by the English monarch Edward III (r. 1327-1377 CE) around 1348 CE and dedicated to the Virgin Mary and Saint George. The king was still in a celebratory mood after England's famous victory over a much bigger French army at the Battle of Crécy in August 1346 CE and was eager to further emphasise the nation's martial prowess by creating an elite order of knights. In addition, by the 14th century CE, the number of knights had greatly increased so that the upper ranks of the nobility began to look for some way in which they could differentiate themselves from other knights and create a sort of private members club. These elite brotherhoods were designed to also pull together the greatest fighters and most useful military knowledge and experience so that in times of war the order would prove a useful part of the army's command structure. Finally, such secular chivalric orders were a good way for a sovereign to ensure the loyalty of their best knights who otherwise may have joined an order whose members, instead, swore allegiance to the church (the then-defunct Knights Templar being an example of such an order).

The Order of the Garter was the first of such chivalric orders in England, but there had been several already formed elsewhere, notably the Order of the Sash by King Alfonso XI of Castile and Leon (r. 1313-1350 CE) and the Order of Saint Catherine in France, both founded during the 1330s CE. The pomp and ceremony of the Order of the Garter was something more, though, and it would spawn many other famous orders at home and abroad such as the Order of the Golden Fleece, created by Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy (1419-1467 CE) in 1430 CE.

Just like the legendary Round Table of King Arthur, the order of the Garter was, from the outset, intended to be a very exclusive club indeed. Its first two members were Edward III himself and his son, Edward the Black Prince and Prince of Wales. Alongside this pair were 24 knights, known as Companions of the Order of the Garter, all of whom had fought at the Battle of Crécy. Each member was granted the right to wear a dark blue garter as a symbol of their membership and new rank. A specific coat of arms was created for the order, which includes the flag of Saint George enclosed in a circle made up of a garter. Besides the knights, there were 26 priests and 26 'poor knights' (faith and charity being great chivalric ideals) who were expected to pray for the souls of the more illustrious full members, although they did receive free clothes, food, and lodgings at Windsor castle.

Continue reading...

[laurelwen]

Nigel's Book Details: Spread Four

Using the order in which each spread is presented in the scene where Alex finally reads through Nigel's book, this is the fourth spread.

Text

Sadly, this is yet another spread wherein the text excerpts and the handwritten notes remain illegible even with sharpening/image filtering.

Central Image: Tomb of Philippe Pot

This spread is dominated by one large image across both pages. Despite the awkward angle and distortion from running across the gutter between pages, it was actually fairly easy to identify this image with the right search terms.

This is an old photograph of the tomb of Philippe Pot, a funerary monument currently housed in the Louvre. It was commissioned around 1480 by Philippe, some 13 years before his death. It represents the Burgundian style popular at the time, with 8 mourners serving as pallbearers holding up an effigy of Philippe, carved from limestone and painted and gilded.

Philippe Pot

Philippe was a scholar and bibliophile, raised at the court of the Dukes of Burgundy, a powerful political state at the time. He was made a knight of the Order of the Golden Fleece, a chivalric order founded by Duke Philip the Good. This honor was stripped from him when he defected to serve King Louis XI of France, later brokering a truce between the two warring states, and he was appointed seneschal of Burgundy by King Louis.

The Monument

Philippe was buried at Citeaux Abbey, in the chapel of Saint-Jean-Baptiste. During the French Revolution, all church property was claimed by the state, and it was first relocated to another abbey and then purchased by a private owner to decorate his garden. It was moved and sold a few more times before being acquired by the Louvre in 1889. It was cleaned and restored a few times after this photograph was taken, and its current appearance can be seen below.

The mourners, called "pleurants", each bear a painted and gilded heraldic shield that refers to specific members of Pot's lineage, indicating the monument is of the "kinship tomb" type. The four shields on the left represent the heraldries of Guillaume III Pot (d. c. 1390) and Raguenonde Guénant, the Cortiambles family, the Anguissola family, and the de Blaisy family. Those on the left represent the de Montagus and de Nesles, and two unidentified families.

The Gothic script inscriptions around the edges of the platform recount the deeds of Philippe and explain his reasons for switching sides.

The animal at the feet of the effigy was poorly restored by prior generations resulting in loss of some detail. Historians disagree on whether it was meant to represent a lion or a dog but many see it as a dog, a popular symbol of loyalty in Burgundian tomb art.

I think I'll call him Luther.

Further reading: The Order of the Golden Fleece

Another organization founded in the late Middle Ages, but not a monastic order like the Templars. This order still exists today in two separate branches. The Spanish order has become an order of merit of the state, while the Austrian order has remained a Catholic chivalric order and is recognised even by the Republic of Austria as an international legal entity. Considered to be a highly prestigious honor even today.

My research has dredged up no particular historical association between this order and anything involving Templars or Freemasons other than the mere fact that both the Templars and the Golden Fleece were knightly organizations. I also find no connection between Philippe Pot and the Templars. Based on that, I think the photo of this tomb was included purely for the aesthetics--the medieval character, the heraldic shields, the effigy of a knight are all meant to evoke the idea of Templars without actually being tied to them.

[Nigel's Book Details: Spread One] [Nigel's Book Details: Spread Two] [Like Minds Masterpost]

[loustica-lucia]

Dragon Age Theory: The Maker was a Titan? Elgar'nan?

READ WITH CAUTION, THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR EVERY DRAGON AGE MEDIAS UP TO DATE!!

Just some thoughts I wanted to put down:

The Maker is a Titan lying under Orlais?

"Weep not for me, child. Stone they made me and stone I am, eternal and unfeeling. And thus shall I endure 'til the Maker returns to light their fires again." — Eleni Zinovia during the Mage Origin (Dragon Age Origins)

The Chant of Light could be an attempt to re transcribe the Song of the Stone — which actually comes from Titans.

“Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written. — Benedictions 4:11

There’s this constant mention of voice and songs shaping the world for or by The Maker. It’s a common theme between Elves, Humans and Dwarves:

The Maker created the world with his voice.

Andraste made the Canticle hymns to praise the Maker.

Leliana is nicknamed the Nightingale, a song bird.

Isatunoll = Dwarven (Isana → Lyrium but Isatunoll is, according to Lace Harding:

"Isatunoll is an affirmation. A statement of existence. Of… being. Isatunoll is the eternal hymn that encompasses all time. All spaces. I am. We are. This. And that. Here. There. Now. And forever.”, like a hive mind)

Ir sa tel'nal = Elven (I am empty, full of nothing)

Asala = Qunlat (Soul) Referred to as “The voice of the Maker”, the song of the Lyrium, Titan’s blood.

"It's singing. A they that's an it that's asleep, but still making music.” — Cole, Dragon Age Inquisition

The Golden City is sometimes called the Wellspring of Creation in the Chant of Light. In The Descent DLC, the inner sanctum is also called the Wellspring.

Andraste’s Sacred Ashes temple is underground, maybe where the Maker/Titan rests? For something unravelled for decades/centuries, it’s still in perfect shape. Maybe they weren’t “magical” but the place they remained in made them so? Pure Lyrium mixed to her ashes? That’s why Leliana turns into a Red Lyrium ghost if you defile the Urn and fight her in DAO?

The amount of Dwarven statues in the Hissing Wastes (Orlais) and the rest of Thedas.

“Seven times seventy men of stone immense Rose up from the earth like sleepers waking at the dawn, Crossing the land with strides immeasurable, And in the hollows of their footprints Paradise was stamped, indelible.” — Canticle of Exaltations

The Avvar — one of the Allamari tribes — and Dwarves stories are intertwined, with Tyrdda Bright-Axe, Avvar-Mother

Then did Tyrdda look to Hendir, dwarf-prince friend, children-giver, Took her freedom, Hendir glad, wished her what he could not give her. Chose her child to stand as chieftain, after all last wrongs were righted, Gifted goods of worldly want, left her tribe no more benighted. Skyward, one last trek she made, To her lover, dream-delivered, Raven-feathered, reunited, Hearts both whole, now neither aching. — Codex entry: Saga of Tyrdda Bright-Axe, Avvar-Mother, 8th stanza

Let’s not forget the Inquisition, allied with the Chantry the origin of the Seekers of Truth and Templar Order, believes in the Maker. Yet, their symbol was most likely created based on the Avvar’s symbol Visus, the eye of the Lady of the Skies.

Titans live beneath Orlais.

"The Stone lives beneath Orlais." "Mathas gar na fornen pa tot isatunoll" — The World of Thedas, Leliana’s letter “We Who Did Not Belong”

She translates it to "I regret the sacrifice of my kin, but it means we will find our way home", but now we know isatunoll doesn’t truly mean “home”.

The Occularum are made from Tranquil skulls. They’re reveal the location of hidden magical shards in Inquisition, and these are nicknamed the “Elfstones” by Avvar.

Tranquils got their connection to the Fade completely cut off, the same way the dagger severed the dreams of the Titans.

As far as I’m aware, only the Chantry performs Rites of Tranquility. Which is why I’m mentioning this here to support the links between the Maker and the Titans.

Random additional thought: what if the Void was the Maker’s titan heart? His got broken by Andraste’s murder in the Canticle, maybe a little too literally? The Void is the contrary of the Maker’s creation, right? An empty abyss where even spirits cannot dwell… Where Lyrium, magic and souls are gone :’)

My other theory is that The Maker was indeed Elgar’nan:

In Veilguard, upon fighting him, he says he’s the creator:

“Such arrogance, thinking you can hide from your creator. And I am this world’s creator.” In French, we call the Maker “the Creator”, so he uses the same exact words.

The Chantry symbol is a Sun, with a tinier “sun” making it hollow. Kinda like the eclipse, it could symbolize the moon and the Sun overlapping.

The Golden City was released to be Elven in Veilguard. The place supposed to be crafted by the Maker, his throne.

What does it mean for Mythal?

Andraste might be one of the first person who carried Mythal’s fragment.

Morrigan said her fragment of Mythal "fell in love with an alamarri leader" and I assume that's Maferath?

It wasn't the Mythal Solas knew back in the Elvhen days though, but a human carrying a fragment of Mythal, the same as Flemeth did ages later.

It also works for Conobar & Flemeth, since the story seems to be repeating through the ages.

Final thoughts:

The deities in Thedas are all inspired by each other, tales long lost and modified to fit a narrative. It’s not surprising to want to compare and figure out the truth behind all the lies and half-truths we find in those games. In the end, I think the Maker, as we imagine Him, was probably extremely different from how the Chantry pictures Him.

He might as well be the entire World of Thedas itself, the first Soul, a Spirit, something alive or dead. Who knows. It’s just interesting to think about all the cultures of Thedas, stealing things from each other across the Ages, slowly forgetting the true with their traditions, rewriting, censoring and modifications.

The Chantry edited and removed Canticles.

The Qun forgot most of its history on tablets only Adaari can read.

The Dalish forgot the origin of most of their traditions.

The Dwarves and their Shaperate edit and destroy ancient records that doesn’t fit what they like.

There’s no way to know what’s absolutely true. It depends on the point of view, the time, the people. And that’s why I love theorizing about this game so much.

What do yall think?

[ognimdo2002]

Mothsol (Solapapilio mosura) - Light Empress

“ This gargantuan moth evokes the eclipse when under the eliminate of romance tragedy. Obliterates these sins for gone and enraged for her matriarchy as revenge of this home. ”

– Eostre

Mothsol (Solapapillo mosura; IPA: m��θˈsoːl) is one of the mythical creatures and a guardian introduced in Worldcraft: My Last Blessings.

Came from this portmanteau word or combination two words are for Mothra and sol is translated by Spanish and Latin means Sun, based on the Solar Eclipse. However this name was Mosura by Japanese people because of Inspired by the movie of the same name is Mothra. Both the names are registered trademarks of Re-Logic and Toho Inc., used by Ognimdo2002 with permission.

Story

In the distant past, when the Saurfolks, also known as Antediluvian species, and the Fomorians were on the verge of extinction, a fragment of sunlight dropped from the heavens in a scattered manner, and from this one drop of sunlight, the golden flower sprouted all over the earth.

The golden bloom appeared in the Paleocene epoch following the Late Cretaceous, and it had the capacity to heal any ailment or injury, including grave wounds, as proved by Rapunzel, and to delay aging, as demonstrated by Gothel; however, that ability needed regular use of the life-sustaining ability. This flower had the unintended consequence of presenting Mothsol, the mythical monster from the China-Vietnam forest during the last stages of the Cretaceous, as a powerless, awful, and insensitive moth.

The Ancestral Mothsol caterpillar has a drastic metamorphosis while ingesting a Sundrop Flower, resulting in its fainting and enlargement into a bigger size. The Ancestral Mothsol caterpillars hide themselves and search for the elusive, luxurious caves created by the Sundrop Flower, Moonstone Opal, and adamantine radiations as they become a more desirable meal for predators.

This cave in Vietnam, known as Rừng Sáng Cave or Cave of Light Forest, is still standing, and this species was worshiped as benevolent deities in the ancient past. According to the Order of Assassins and the Templar Knights, Mothsol is considered Mothra; it appears in ancient folklore and fairy tales from across the world. Mothsol possessed a symbiotic relationship with the colossal species in Japan known as Honengyo, referred to as Godzilla, and together, surrounded by human and elven warriors, they fought to kill Dragon Gods, the Eldritch Terrors, in the ancient past when the malevolent entities invaded Earth.

Mothsol also becomes the companion of metatherian Luison of Paraguay; however, they are widely regarded as polar opposites, with rivals and foes. Because Mothsol comes from Southeast Asia, which is part of Eurasia, and Luison is from South America, they were not present.

For example, at the Isu Temple in Palestine, an older Luison and an older Mothsol were competitors who fled as wild animals. In Israel, people believe that Mothsol promotes awakenings and pleasant dreams, whereas Luison causes nightmares and trauma. According to the Abrahamic religion and pre-Islamic cultures, both Luison and Mothsol are God's creations and servants.

[faded-mage]

Fic Authors Self Rec

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love.

Tagged by @mishwanders! Thank you for tagging me, I do really love these sorts of things. 💖

C - Completed | OG - Ongoing

The Theory of Being (OG)

The Forgotten Ones weren't always... well, forgotten. The stories were likely partially true, the tales of cruelty and hiding in the darkness. They were everything they shouldn't have been - those who caused terror, pain, despair. The woman the world would eventually know as Inquisitor Lavellan was, in fact, a Forgotten One. Somehow Isathe was not imprisoned by the Dread Wolf in the abyss with the rest of them. Whatever the reason, the former spirit of Curiosity coaxed into physical form was stuck in the aftermath of that event. She felt the moment the Veil was created and pulled her even farther from her home. Then she slept. Slept for thousands of years until she woke in a world where elves were no longer what they had been. She had to find a way to stay alive and adjust to the world that formed from the Betrayal so long ago. Solas x Lavellan | Forgotten Ones AU | Dragon Age

Golden Thread Does Not Bind (C)

The story of the Dread Wolf and his Emerald Knight. Solas felt a strange mixture of pity and annoyance as he watched the unconscious prisoner at his feet. She looks so small. Fragile. A simple, mortal thing. He did not expect her to last long in her current state but he needed her to. The elf below him lay motionless on the floor with her wrists bent at an odd angle due to the shackles that adorned them. Delicate pointed ears poked through the curtain of dark hair that spilled across the stone floor. Dalish, he noted, the vallaslin that curved across her face indicated as much... Solas x Lavellan | Canon-Compliant | Dragon Age

Courage Like a Crown (C)

Vunlea (Lea) Lavellan knew two things. One, Commander Cullen is or was a member of the Templar Order. Two, she barely wanted to stand in the room with the man, let alone trust him. Cullen x Lavellan | Fluffy Ending | Dragon Age Inquisition

Mending Strings of Loss (C)

Something had changed drastically in Arana’s demeanor, Cullen noted. She was quieter, more reserved. Whenever she arrived in his office her eyes were puffy and red around the edges. The most striking change was the delicate swirls of the tattoo that once sat upon her cheeks were gone. Disappeared one evening. He was afraid to ask but through rumors that inevitably snaked through the fortress he finally heard that Solas had removed the tattoos from her face and then broke up with her. No rumors seemed to be able to point to a why for either of those things. The part of Cullen that considered Arana his friend was devastated for her. He remarked silently to himself that each time she came to visit him now she arrived through a side door instead of the main one - the main one leading through the rotunda where Solas spent most of his time. The other part of Cullen who had pined for the elven rogue since shortly before Haven fell was relieved and he only felt more guilty about it with each passing day. Cullen x Lavellan | 2 Chapters | Dragon Age Inquisition

Fountain of Decay (C)

She was warm. That was Eris’ first thought as her mind stirred from nothingness. Her body was warm and there was with a gentle hum of vibration that surrounded her. Flashes of images - memories, maybe - appeared in her mind. The touch of a soft hand caressing her chin and a thumb running across her lip, a cool metal pressed against her cheek. Her tail coiling itself around a man’s neck as he buried his face in between her breasts. Cold, dark hallways and rooms made of stone. Her bare feet freezing as she walked along its corridors. The smell of blood as it bloomed from her hands and snaked up to her elbows, splattered everywhere. Blood. Once that word inched into her mind and nestled there, it kept repeating. Blood. Blood. Blood. The Dark Urge x Enver Gortash | My First Fic | Baldur's Gate 3

Tagging: @loredrinker @ar-ghilas-vir-banal @manuveninvhenan @miraabellee & anyone else who wants to show off their stuff.

[himluv]

DA Review Series: Redemption

<<< Previous Review: Hard in Hightown

Aaaaaaaand I'm back, this time with a piece of DA media I'd never seen before!

Title: Redemption Director: Peter Winther Year Released: 2011 In-World Year: ~9:34 Dragon Verdict: Surprisingly not as bad as I'd expected. The Qunari look TERRIBLE, but the story was a fun little romp with one potentially very important MacGuffin: The Mask of Fen'Harel.

Dragon Age: Redemption introduces us to Tallis, a Qunari elf assassin operating in and around Kirkwall during Dragon Age II. Most players likely met Tallis during the Mark of the Assassin DLC, but Redemption is *technically* her first appearance.

In order to reclaim her role within the Ben-Hasraath, Tallis must hunt down a Tal'Vashoth Saarebas that was captured by the Chantry. This is around the height of the Qunari invasion of Kirkwall and tensions are high between the Chantry and all Qunari.

So of course, along the way Tallis meets a Templar who is also hunting Saarebas. A Dalish mage and a Nevarran Reaver mercenary round out the party, as they search for Saarebas and the elvhen artifact he stole: The Golden Mask of Fen'Harel.

Turns out, that mask can tear open the Veil when brought to its altar and supplied with enough Elvhen blood. Why this artifact exists and what it's original purpose was is never addressed, sadly. But, that it exists, is tied to Fen'Harel and the Veil makes me wonder just how far back in development Bioware writers knew about Fen'Harel and his plans...

I have so. many. questions.

Anyway, through this story both Tallis and the Templar question their loyalties to their respective religions, and even begin to submit to their feelings for one another. But, this is Dragon Age, and so few heroes get happy endings.

The Templar, Cairn, dies saving Tallis (which was a bit overdramatic if you ask me). Even the Dalish mage's fiancee betrays him and he accidentally kills her in a scuffle over a dagger. The only person who seems to leave this story unscathed is the Nevarran mercenary, Nyree. Which thank the Creators! She was my favorite by FAR!

Basically, this isn't a good mini-series. It's cringey and very low budget. But it has some surprisingly bright moments. Doug Jones as Saarebas! Nyree! The Mask of Fen'Harel! And did I mention Nyree??? Even Felicia Day, who I'm usually lukewarm about, was pretty good in this.

If you've got 50 minutes free and want to watch some old school Dragon Age camp, why not fire up Dragon Age: Redemption?

[metaphysicalpistolsoraclemine]

Giza

This location is the geographical center of the earth body.

Giza is the reference to the demographic area of Egypt that is the 4th dimensional planetary stargate and diamond heart complex or Solar Temple that was a primary target of total invasion by the NAA, before, during and after the Luciferian Rebellion, in order to gain full spectrum dominance over the Sol portal, and control access into Mars, install Checkerboard Mutation, as well as take position for total earth domination during the Ascension Cycle.

Historical Timeline Trigger Events

Giza Stargate Takeover = 25,000 YA Nibiruian line of Annunaki take over the 4D Giza Stargate, Astral Plane false ascension matrix and 11D Stargate Stonehenge gain control, NET's installed.

Atlantian Flood = 11,500 YA Takeover and destruction of Giza Stargate, victors of war start re-writing historical records and false timelines, surface flood and holocaust.

Sumerian-Egyptian Invasion = 10,000 YA First stage of takeover of Iran-Iraq 10th Gate, Middle East settlements and organizing Brotherhood of the Snake in from Atlantian timeline in the region. Thoth Group and Phoenix Grid to gain control over Giza Stargate. Tiamat wormhole.

Iron Age Christos-Sophia, Jesus Christ Mission = 2,000 YA Sirius B Christos Mission to repair Giza and Stonehenge Stargate, timeline repair gridwork to prepare for the Ascension timeline and reclamation of the Christos Diamond Sun body in 2012 timeline.

Egypt Stargate and Sun Takeover

The Great Pyramid of Giza is the oldest and largest of the three pyramids in the Giza pyramid complex bordering present-day El Giza, Egypt. It is the oldest of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, and the only one to remain largely intact. 

The ancient builder technology is evident in the construction of the original Great Pyramid during the Golden Age, pre-Atlantian Cataclysm, which was constructed as a harmonic resonance device to transmit a range of powerful frequencies and subtle energies throughout the Planetary Grid Network.

The Great Pyramid was not designed to be a burial chamber.

During the time that the Egypt pyramidal technology was rebuilt in the Giza Stargate in that location as the central mission control and ET interstellar port, Sirians and Procyon groups were in high security. The Nibiru Annunaki resistance moved its last Atlantian Colony to the Bermuda area of the 3D Stargate and the Annunaki Resistance continued its conflict over territory and earth dominion through war and genetic alteration of the DNA.

Annunaki and Patriarchal Melchizedek's rapidly digress their race and genetics through becoming a warring species like the Orion Group. The Annunaki plan takeover of all planet ET technology and to capture humans for genetic experiments to create a worker race 28,000 BC, further they negotiate with Orion Group Draconians to share the “spoils of war” of earth takeover. This action is what allowed the Orion Group and Draconians to get a deep foothold into the planet consciousness fields and when severe genetic damage, such as DNA reversal pairs, to the planet and humanity really began.

Egyptian History Erased

Thus, true and accurate Egyptian history was replaced with the Black Sun agenda of inserting the Egyptian Pantheon of Gods, along with their Black Magic rituals, that were to be enforced by the installation of the Setian King lines, Hyksos and the Amun Snake Priesthood. These groups in the Middle East would eventually integrate into the Greek Mystery Schools and further evolve into the corrupted patriarchal lineages of the secret societies that formed as the Knights Templars and Freemasons, some using the image of Akhenaton as their Luciferian high priest for enacting the blueprint for the New World Order. This is an inside joke to the Galactic Federation, to defame his image and make a mockery of his life. Akhenaton was/is a Krystic being serving the Law of One and Reclamation of Christos Mission, attempting to negotiate with these rogue Annunaki groups to allow humanity to ascend in the 2012 window without interference. His negotiations to enter into a peace treaty failed, shortly after he was murdered a heretic king by a family member, and thus branded as a Luciferian high priest to the Illuminati hybrid lines. 

THE HEART OF GIZA BLEEDS

Those that read this newsletter are well aware, that the Giza plateau near Cairo is the 4D Stargate and astral energy center for our planet. At one time it housed the Ark of the Covenant as a portal access into Sirius and then into Andromeda, as it was a transport station. This area was the main channel of heart chakra 4D energy and pranic life force, that was designed to be generated into the planet for humanities health and wellbeing. The pyramids are massive power generators of the Cosmic Heart Life force that once radiated from their peaks. Once we were invaded this stopped and our multiple Pyramid generators on the planet were disconnected from these frequency channels. As our planet is undergoing changes in the planetary brain and changing the heart channels function, chaos is physically represented in the area. Giza no longer stands alone as the planetary heart Stargate, as multiple channels of this Diamond Heart transmission radiates from every prism it touches, and we will build multiple hubs of flowering heart channels on the planet. Our planet is evolving to become a Unified Crystal Heart and humanity must adapt to this change. 

Spiritual Ascension Chamber

Multiple millions of years ago, the Galactic Federation worked closely with the Sirian High Council to serve as a Guardian race that would help to support the seeding and evolution process of the planet earth in its lowest density, the first Harmonic Universe, also called the third dimensional timelines. The Great Pyramid of Giza was built as a harmonic resonator chamber within an interdimensional portal system in which visiting space craft could time travel and access the earth plane very quickly, especially if intervention was needed. During the cycle in which the Great Pyramid was built during pre-Atlantian times, the Galactic Federation was tasked to protect the Stargate portal and the ascension chamber within it and to intervene in case of an attack from hostile intruders such as the Annunaki resistance. The Great Pyramid was a mystery school for the Blue Flame Melchizedek spiritual ascension program and to accelerate DNA assembly for portal passage through the Inner Earth portal that was under the Sphinx. Some factions of the Annunaki Melchizedeks became patriarchal and had disregarded the Law of One teachings. They became increasingly hostile when they were forbidden access into the ascension chambers and not allowed in the Great Pyramid. Thus, they organized a larger group resistance in Atlantis with the plan to explode the protective force field via setting off explosions in which to take control over the Giza Stargate, and to achieve their goal they enlisted the support of the sympathizers that were in the Galactic Federation as many were originally from the Annunaki lineages that felt they were being unjustly discriminated upon. As a result of the infiltration that occurred from Sirius A, the Jehovian Annunaki took control over the Galactic Federation and the Ashtar Commandjoining the Luciferian Covenant and planning the final stages of the Atlantian Cataclysm with the purpose to eradicate the earth's historical records and technological knowledge, sending the earth's inhabitants back into the dark ages. 

The Galactic Federation works with the NAA groups towards world domination and are behind the mind control propaganda that the Annunaki are the Gods of the earth and this Solar System, promoting themselves as the divine angels returning to help humanity ascend, to seduce the earth population into subjugation to their New World Order enslavement agenda.

[lairofsentinel]

Minrathous: Middle Level - High District

Residences

Plaza Dumat

High Docks

City Guard Barracks

Archive Palace [Locus Cognitionis]

Public Library of Mirnathous

Temples and Shrines

Draconis Aurei [Golden Dragon]

Luxurious Brothels

Luxurious Inn: The Silver Serpent [Serpens Argenteus]

Bathhouse: Fons Splendoris [Fountain of Splendor]

Lore Warning: A good amount of information presented here is canon, linking their sources when it correspond. The rest is crafted-lore for personal fictional reasons.

Minrathous || High Level || Middle Level || Low Level

For more world-building and crafted-lore: Dragon Age Dreadwolf Tag of DA Crafted Lor

Middle Level: Upper Class Areas

Residences: It’s mostly filled with Manors and Villas of magisters, palaces of Altus, and mansions of merchants and military members.

Plaza Dumat: In the center of the middle level lies a green area adorned with trees and vibrant flowers, sustained by magic. The entire area is embellished with impressive statues of dragons and metallic Tevinter golems. It displays in the center a gigantic statue of Andraste, The Lady of Victoty, with a hand casting blue fire, as an eternal representation of her as a mage.

High Docks: highly controlled docks where exclusive legal cargo is managed, with a particular focus on the importation of fine products from Antiva and Rivain, such as clothing, gems, legal magical components, herbs, fruits, and food.

City Guard HQ and Barracks: This building serves as the headquarters for the City Guards, where they convene to discuss security matters, impart training, and handle recruitment. It maintains a close relationship with the Argent Spire, since the most questionable Templars are often demoted to city guards, while well-behaved city guards can be promoted to Templars. The City Guards are equipped with low-quality enchanted weapons and armor.

They permit human mages, particularly those who are poor Laetans and Liberati mages, to be part of the City Guards. However, these guards are not eligible for promotion to Templars in order to avoid “compromising” the Templar institution [ha!]. Elves are rarely seen serving as City Guards.

Archive Palace [Locus Cognitionis - Palace of Knowledge]: is a large building with multiple chambers that display flying libraries. These shelves are enchanted to prevent the accumulation of dust and humidity. The archive includes a chamber with ancient artifacts that resemble Elvhenan designs. It also preserves ancient lineage documents that confirm the Dreamer ancestry of families recognized by Tevinter. Additionally, it holds migratory records and moderately significant magical artifacts. The archive also stores import and export records, particularly those from the High Docks. It participates in the exchange of books, paperwork, and personnel with other archives throughout the Imperium.

Public Library of Minrathous : Public library which, ironically, can only be accessed by Altus. If Soporati and Laetans wish to gain access, they must initiate bureaucratic procedures to obtain a temporary usage permit. Part of this approval process needs to be completed at the Archive Palace.

Temples and Shrines: Temples originally dedicated to the Old Gods have been repurposed as shrines to the Maker or Hessarian, with minimal Andraste iconography present.

Golden Dragon [Draconis Aurei]: Upscale tavern/nightclub that offers a wide variety of drinks and drugs, both legal and illegal. It features discreet corners for romantic encounters, casual relationships, gambling games, and solitary entertainment of any kind.

Luxurious Brothels: There are several upscale brothels exuding an air of exclusivity and sophistication. Arcanae Voluptatis [Secrets of Pleasure]. There is also An Aqua Brothel: Aquae Amoris [Waters of Love].

Fons Splendoris [Fountain of Splendor] : Public bathhouse, secretly owned by the Lucerni. It is frequented by Altus, Laetans, and affluent, influential Soporati involved in trade and the military. Much like in ancient Rome, it serves as a venue for gatherings and meetings. The bathhouse also offers massages and basic forms of physiotherapy using herbs and water-based treatments. It is an ideal location for both listening to and spreading rumors.

The Silver Serpent [Serpens Argenteus]: One of the most exclusive and sophisticated palace inns in Minrathous, it is the preferred choice for emissaries, ambassadors, and wealthy merchants visiting the city.

[weatherman667]

Custom Space Marine Chapters

One of the best parts of 40k is the fact it heavily encourages you to make your own things. It then makes the rules idiotic and unclear, because GW.

GW has also been raping the canon chapters without lube, so it allows you to make something GW cannot destroy. And, if you play as Renegade Loyalists, you don't have to listen to Roboute Guilliman.

Angels Riding Scarlet: Red Riding Hood + Ruby Rose + bikers. To be fair, the Blood Angels are already great bikers. They also have their own Order of SoB, that are saved Redemptia.

Angel's Tears: The Sanguinary Guard from various Blooded chapters. They have grown withdrawn and despondent. They can learn to tap into the Angel's Far Sight. It is an honour and a tragedy when one joins their ranks.

Astral Feathers: From a question, what chapter would be the most likely to work with Tau. Ultramarines was the obvious answer.

Barrow Wights: A series of polls that allowed me to make a first founding chapter, Renegade Loyalist Death Guard. This was incredibly fun.

Bullfrogs: Wanted to make a bullfrog chapter, and their hopping reminded me of Blood Angels. Though, rather than Catholic, more like Baptists. The Chapter Master is obviously named Jeremiah.

Green Word: Arthurian Word Bearer Renegade Loyalists.

Index: A Certain Magical Index. Blood Angels protecting a forbidden library.

Iron Breakers: Renegade Loyalist Men of Iron pretending to be Iron Hands.

Killer Whales: Salish-themed Raven Guard after facing the Tyranids. They have 3 companies that they completely reconfigure based off what they know about the enemy.

Maroon Templars: Black Templars that want to try this angry skyfall thing. They apparently have enough endemic anger to fuel a Death Company.

Nephilim: Dark Angels from a back-stabby noble houses world. Comes with their own version of Commissars.

Pongo Astra: Orange arboreal combat Raven Guards. Why orange? Because that's how light works in forests.

Royal Ravens: Created for a game idea. Orcs think purple is the sneaky colour. So a Purple Raven Guard model would become less visible the higher the WAAAGH is.

Silver Age: Sailor Moon-themed Luna Wolves Renegade Loyalists.

Spiral Blitz: Blitzball(FFX)-themed White Scars.

Starborn: Craftworld Eldar infiltrating the imperium. Made easier by the fact that there's literally a big book they are supposed to follow. They discover how much sorrow Humanity can face, and become stalwart defenders.

Wardens of the Tower: Dark Angels guarding/researching a space and time bending tower. Obviously dressed like Beef Eaters.

Werewolves: Blood Angels and Space Wolves got trapped forever in an eternal battle with chaos. To be fair, Astartes actually like that.

Twins Beasts: From a question I was asked, about what they would be like if The Lion and The Wolf were found on each other's worlds. The answer is the Werewolves and the Golden Eagles.

You'll notice a lot of them are stolen from better IP's. Which is the exact thing GW has always done.

[dimensionalneko666]

「Baphomet」 (2024)

[...]

>Alias: Hermaphrodite, The Templar

>Affiliation: Templar Order

>Age: 897 Earth Years

>Equipment: AK-47 assault rifle, Baptism Sword

>Daemon Tool: Axisa

>Spell: Baptism of Wisdom

>Invocation: A golden crucifix is required, with which the "Sigil of Baphomet" must be scratched on the ground or a smooth surface. Then, the crucifix must be placed in the middle of the sigil and stepped on.

(more art on https://instagram.com/hana_belet.arts/ )

[nirikeehan]

Happy Friday! I'm here to help you fill up bad things bingo! For Cullen and Thalia-- black eye AND loss of eyesight. Maybe something in Nightmare AU?

All right, I can only pick one prompt per square, so I went with "loss of sight" for this one. I will circle back around to "black eye," don't worry 👀

I went with canonverse for this, because of course I need another one-shot that doesn't feel like a one-shot in my life. Enjoy the pain!

For @dadrunkwriting and @badthingshappenbingo

Series: Dragon Age: Inquisition

Word Count: 2269

---

Cullen’s chair was empty. Thalia’s gaze continued to drift to it throughout the entire meeting, tuning out Leliana’s lilting tones and Josephine’s gentle remarks over the scribbling of her quill. The war room felt too big without his sturdy presence.

“Are you quite all right, Inquisitor?” Leliana finally asked, when Thalia made her repeat herself for the third time. 

“I’m fine.” Thalia worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “Where’s Cullen?” 

Josephine frowned. “The Commander wasn’t feeling well this morning. He requested the day off.” 

Thalia bit back a barbed response, that Cullen would not request a day off if the world itself was ending. Apprehension crawled up her spine, little tendrils of doubt and worry. “He was fine when we spoke last night.” 

By “spoke” she meant they spent time on the battlements together, kissing softly and watching the golden hour melt away into an icy blue twilight. She felt her face warming and averted her gaze to her own clipboard, scribbled with notes she barely remembered taking. 

A silence followed, during which Thalia dared not speak. The secret she harbored for Cullen felt at times like a glowing orb she’d swallowed whole. Often it seemed precious, something sacred he’d entrusted her with, that she tended and kept safe. But right now she could feel it, burning in her chest. She pressed her palm there, over the rich blue samite and ornate eyelets of her collared tunic, as if that could calm it.

“The Commander has suffered from headaches from time to time,” Leliana offered, barely louder than a murmur. 

Thalia squinted at her. Does she know? She found Leliana’s face eminently unreadable, which she supposed was a good trait in a spymaster. Still, there were times when she found it unnerving, and aggravating besides. 

“Of course,” she said carefully, glancing from Leliana to Josephine. “I just worry about a sickness spreading through Skyhold, that’s all.” 

It was, of course, more than that. Cullen went through bouts of tumult without lyrium to steady him, and with every upswing Thalia worried about the oncoming down turn. She still remembered the strained look on his face when he’d explained it all to her: it was impossible to know if cutting lyrium from his system entirely would kill him. He’d wanted her guidance, perhaps as the leader of the Inquisition — but more so, she’d sensed, as a friend. 

Thalia had reeled from the stark nature of the confession. Through her mind ran every encounter she’d ever had with a Templar while at the Ostwick Circle. She’d known, vaguely, that they’d used lyrium, but it was to her just another alchemical substance. Mages often used it to aid spells. She’d never thought about what it might do to people without the gift for magic. She’d had no idea it chained them for life. 

She’d been able to see the benefits to suggesting — ordering? — Cullen continue to take the lyrium. A military leader should always be clear-headed and strong, at his best. And part of her was selfish: if he died, then what? He was her mentor and her friend. How could she go on knowing she’d sanctioned his self-destruction? 

But she’d seen the desperation in his eyes and been unable to say it. Despite his words, she’d known what he had wanted.

And she was a bit more than a friend to him now. 

“I’m sure Cullen will be fine, Lady Thalia,” Josephine said, touching Thalia’s hand soothingly.

The meeting adjourned shortly thereafter, as they’d covered all they could without Cullen’s input. Thalia left the war room as the first few snowflakes drifted by the window. By the time she’d made it through the Main Hall to the courtyard, the sky was a leaden grey and the snow fell in earnest. 

Thalia shivered. Skyhold often ran warmer than the surrounding mountains; surveyors speculated there might be hot springs running throughout the ground beneath the keep. Solas scoffed at the idea and suggested there was likely powerful warding magic at work. Whatever the reason, the grass grew and the trees kept their leaves even in winter, but today the forces that guarded the keep could not withstand the oncoming storm. 

She crunched her way across the courtyard. She really ought to return to her quarters for a cloak, but the thought of turning around dismayed her. If Cullen is unwell, he should not be in that tower by himself. Not in this weather. He hadn’t exactly invited her back to his room quite yet — not for that reason — but she’d been in it a few times. Once was to grab a report he’d left up there during their long nights in his office, spent tracking the movements of General Samson. Another was to find a poultice for the pain when he’d been too shaky to the take the ladder. Thalia had looked around the space in wonder each time. The glimpses one took into the life of someone cherished: it felt so overwhelmingly Cullen, down to the rickety roof he still hadn’t gotten around to repairing. She didn’t even think he had a brazier. He’d freeze to death up there. 

Thalia wasn’t sure where she could coax him — her own quarters came to mind, with its large hearth and fire that the servants kept crackling all day long. She smirked; wouldn’t everyone talk then? No, the infirmary was probably better. He’d hate that, because then he’d have to explain what was wrong to the healers, but at least she’d feel at ease. Fear crept into her often when the worst of the symptoms gripped him, making him delicate and volatile. But no one must know, he insisted again and again. No one must find out.

Thalia cracked the door to his office and peered inside. The candles were unlit, the space dim and quiet. Snow already piled against the panes of the narrow windows, casting a sickly, muted light into the room. Thalia slipped in and leaned against the shut door. She listened to the silence. Her shallow breathing puffed white clouds in the cold air. 

She kicked the snow from her boots against the doorframe and strode to the ladder that ran up to his room. It was dark up there too. Thalia swallowed. She didn’t just want to climb up unannounced.

She balled a fist and knocked against the side of the ladder. “Cullen?” she called, feeling slightly absurd. Why couldn’t he sleep in a room with a door? Why must he always be so close to his work? “Hello? Are you here?”

She heard movement above her. 

“Cullen?” 

“Thalia?” His voice sounded farther away than one floor. 

“It’s me,” Thalia called. “Are you all right? Josephine said you were unwell.” 

“Oh. I’m… fine.” He did not sound fine. He sounded the way soldiers sounded at times after battle, faint and surprised to be alive. 

“Can I come up?” Nerves gripped her — did that sound too forward? If he insisted he was all right, who was she to question him? 

She heard some shuffling, rummaging, and a sudden crash. Glass shattered. Thalia shot several rungs up the ladder. Cullen was cursing — “Dammit, dammit, I’m all right, you don’t have to—” but she kept climbing, her heart a bird fluttering against the confines of its cage. 

She poked her head over the top of the ladder, but it was too dark to see much. As expected, snow drifted in through the hole in the roof, falling unnoticed on the floorboards. Cullen’s bed was empty and unmade. A hulking shadow hunched in a chair. 

“I’m sorry if I woke you…” Thalia straightened, squinting through the gloom. He was the figure in the chair, hair unkempt. Despite the chill, he was in only a thin undertunic, none of his usual armor, hugging himself and shivering. 

“Maker, Cullen—” Thalia darted across the room and immediately tripped over something. Shards shattered under her boots. Her stomach lurched, her mind jumping to the worst possibility. Was that a lyrium philter? Has he drunk it? 

Bending over, however, revealed it to be the remnants of a water glass, its contents soaking the floorboards. The liquid seeped into the pages of a few toppled books, knocked from a nearby table, she estimated. Thalia snatched them up and ran them over her trouser leg to seep up the moisture. She replaced them hastily and crossed gingerly over to Cullen. He did not turn as she approached, staring instead at the unadorned stone wall. 

“Why are you sitting here all alone in the dark?” Thalia pressed a hand to his clammy forehead. 

He flinched away from her touch, sending a ripple of hurt through her. Does he not trust me, after all this time? Or does he just not want me to know he has a fever? The little she’d felt confirmed her suspicions. 

Cullen did not answer. Thalia pressed her lips together, debating her options. “Let me get you a blanket, at least.” She couldn’t just stand by while he was feverish and shaking. 

She moved to the desk, fumbling for the matchbox and tinder, and lit a tallow candle in its holder. Better. Despite being mid-afternoon, the storm had hastened the onset of darkness. No wonder he’d knocked things over. But his silence unnerved her. Usually he was quick with an explanation, or stubborn insistence. When the episode was very bad, he only asked for little things that might help. Saying nothing at all — what did that mean? Was it delirium? She didn’t think his fever was that high. 

She pulled the extra furs from his bed, considering her next move. She draped one across his lap and the other around his shoulders. He clutched them closer, and she was pleased to note his teeth stopped chattering. 

“I told you, you didn’t have to do all this.” Cullen’s voice sounded soft and far away, even though she was standing right beside him. He still hadn’t looked in her direction. 

“Cullen.” She tried to pick her words carefully. She didn’t want to spook him. “You’re unwell. You’re running a fever. You may have caught something completely unrelated to the — the effects of lyrium deprivation.” She took a breath. “I think it’s better that we take you to the infirmary, instead of—”

Cullen was shaking his head vehemently. “No. No. Please.” 

The despair in his voice scared her. She had kept this secret for him for months now, but she had never seen him in a position quite so dire. Maybe it had been the wrong one from the start — she was no healer, but she’d studied under enough at the Circle to know that hiding illness for the sake of pride was usually the worst thing one could do. Maybe she should have never indulged him in this particularly foolhardy endeavor. Or at the least, employed a well-paid and tightlipped healer to monitor his condition in secret. It was grossly irresponsible of her, she could see now, to have taken his word for it. 

But she had so desperately wanted to believe him. 

“Well, that do you want me to do?” Thalia replied, more archly than intended. “Leave you shivering up here in the middle of a snowstorm?” 

Cullen startled, blinking rapidly in her direction. “It’s snowing?”

“Yes, it’s snowing. How could you not notice? It’s coming through the hole in your roof.” 

Thalia gestured behind her, to the irregular-shaped ring of snow accumulating on the floorboards, but he didn’t follow her cue. He didn’t do much of anything, aside from sit there, mouth agape in surprise. His eyes were glittery and unfocused, standing out against the pale, waxen quality of his skin. He swallowed hard, and Thalia sensed, quite suddenly, that he was terrified.

“Cullen,” she said softly, “look at me.” 

He canted his head in her direction, eyes searching. She silently took a step adjacent to where she had spoken, but his gaze did not follow. A dreadful understanding crept over her. 

Thalia stepped closer, crouching down before him. “I’m right here,” she said, reaching for his hand. He reacted to her touch, squeezing her fingers tightly. “How long has it been like this?” 

“Since this morning. I woke up, and I couldn’t… couldn’t…” He let out a shaky breath. 

“It’s all right.” She tried to stay calm. Think. Think. “Have you heard of lyrium withdrawal causing this?”

“I can’t remember. There’s so few stories of anyone stopping at all, I…”

“Shh. Don’t worry about it. Have you had any other symptoms besides the fever?” Maybe it’s a separate infection? Maybe it’s treatable? Maybe—

“Just a headache, last night. I thought it was — fairly routine, for… what happens, at times.” Cullen shifted under the furs. His hand was icy cold. Another sign of the withdrawal, she knew. Was this simply the natural progression of something they never should have meddled with in the first place?

“Cullen. Please, listen to me.” Her voice sounded thick and quavering. “I know you don’t want to, but I have to ask: if you took lyrium right now, do you think that would help?” 

He stiffened. She watched his shoulders straighten, his whole body tensing against the suggestion. “I don’t know. I… please, Thalia, I’ve come so far. Please don’t make me—” 

“I’m not. I’m not. I’m just trying to rule out some things. I want you to be well, Cullen, that’s all.” She took his cold hand between both of hers, pressing her lips against one knuckle, then another. She blinked again and again, against the hot tears gathering behind her eyes. “We’re going to figure this out, okay? I promise you that.” 

[contreparry]

Happy Friday, Ann! How about "Confessions of a Lyrium Addict. Rare first person account of the Templars’ plight. But the ration’s too small. If they don’t give you enough, your hands get cold. The sky starts to press down on you. Little things slip away. So you have to stay." from DA Lore Prompts!

Absolutely! I'm writing this from the perspective of a Templar stationed at Ostwick Circle before it fell, featuring a younger mage!Trevelyan for @dadrunkwriting.

It got worse with the sea change. The shift of the trade winds and the pressing cold front exacerbated the symptoms. A mild ache of worn muscles and joints spread like a thin layer of ice over water. The faint urge for the electric tang of the draught grew to a gnawing hunger, an implacable thirst, until all he could think of was crystalline blue and lightning in a bottle. What could be ignored in the height of green summer and throughout golden autumn bit back with a vengeance once winter tightened her icy grip upon Ostwick.

If he were a younger man Ricard could endure the trials without complaint. But he had grown old, time and tribulations having worn him down like the waves that crashed against the cliffside. He was crumbling, falling apart with every blow dealt to his body and spirit, and the lyrium that kept him propped up ate away at him like some corrosive, foul substance. Poison. The poison that granted him, all of them, the abilities that made them was what would undo them completely. Lyrium was their salvation. it was their damnation. And yet Ricard drank the bitter draught down to the last drop and was grateful for it.

He need only hold out a little longer, he swore as he held himself upright and walked to the infirmary, his head held high even as his knees protested every step and cold crept up his fingertips and the cloudy sky above threatened to crash down upon him like the sea. The contents of his stomach roiled, the simple breakfast of plain oats and strong black tea threatening to come back up with every step he took. But he breathed in the salty sea air and the biting winter chill, gritted his teeth, and forced himself up the steps and into the eastern wing, marching over to the infirmary and the only cure that could abate his suffering. Lyrium.

"Ah, Ser Ricard," the head healer said cheerfully. He was a cheerful man, one who had been in Ostwick since Ricard was stationed at the Circle near three decades ago. They had both aged. The head healer's formerly red hair and beard were as white as the sea foam that floated on the waves, and Ricard- Ricard was breaking apart at the seams. He faltered in the doorway, his knees buckling underneath him, and the head healer grabbed onto him. Strong hands steadied him, kept him upright, urged him forward step by step.

"One of those days, hmm?" the healer remarked dryly. "At least you didn't get into the First Enchanter's liquor cabinet, unlike some apprentices." He raised his voice at that remark, as if he was addressing someone else within the infirmary, but Ricard could hardly see who that might be. Whenever he opened his eyes his vision fairly swam.

"Would that I had overindulged," Ricard muttered. The stabbing pain of a hangover was preferable to lyrium withdraw. Almost anything was better than the lack of lyrium.

The head healer hurried him over to a cot and forced him to sit before hurrying over to his shelves full of supplies. Ricard watched the man grab the necessary ingredients for the lyrium brew that would provide relief, and he worked quickly. Practice made perfect, and the head healer was a master of his craft- a Mage would have to be. If one was careless with the material, it could spell their very death.

"Trevelyan!" the head healer called out. "Brew a potion for nausea, if you would be so kind." It was phrased as a request, but Ricard knew it as an order. He'd barked out enough of his own to his subordinates over the years. But Trevelyan? He knew the name- knew the Mage who had it, too. The girl, an apprentice, was thick as thieves with Enchanter Lydia and had a talent for medicinal alchemy. She was normally a model Circle Mage, but an apprentice was an apprentice, and she and a few of her cohorts had gotten into a bit of mischief last evening with the First Enchanter's liquor. Ricard would have thought the hangover punishment enough, but the First Enchanter and Knight Commander must have had other ideas.

"Potions work badly with lyrium draughts, Enchanter, you'll make his symptoms worse if you make him down lyrium and a potion," a light voice retorted, and Ricard had rarely heard someone sound as miserable as he currently felt. Sympathy welled in his heart at the sound of that trembling voice- poor girl. She couldn't be more than- what, fifteen? Maker's Breath, his memory came and went with the seasons, much like his other, more pressing symptoms.

"Good memory, Trevelyan. The blackberry cordial didn't rob you of your wits, either. Good. Ser Ricard, I'll give you this, but you must promise to rest until you've recovered completely. Trevelyan, stand here and observe. You'll be administering lyrium when you're a full-fledged healer so you might as well get some first-hand experience. Ser Ricard, here." The head healer pressed a cool metal cup into his hands, and Ricard blindly drank as sweet relief and bitter lyrium coursed down his throat. The weakness ceased, his senses flared back to their normal sharpness, and though his stomach and head ached the gnawing need abated. He was himself again. Ricard opened his eyes and watched the head healer shuffle away, white hair gleaming in the pale morning light like moonstone. His gaze drifted away from him to the young woman standing by his cot in her rumpled apprentice robes.

She looked terrible, her dark hair hanging in limp strands around her ashen face. Her expression was queasy, and she winced whenever she lifted her eyes up to the light. Ricard bit down on his tongue to prevent himself from laughing. Ah, to be young and foolish. He had almost forgotten what it was to be young.

"I'll teach you how to measure that draught properly someday, when you aren't suffering from the cordial's aftereffects," the head healer remarked. "Now, nausea cures. What would you recommend for a patient who ought not imbibe something with a whiff of magic about it for a time?" Ricard thought it rather cruel to interrogate the poor thing- couldn't the head healer see that she was in need of a cure as much as he?

"... ginger ought to help with the nausea," Apprentice Trevelyan replied. "We've got a jar of crystallized stuff from the kitchens just this morning."

"Good, good. Be a good girl and fetch that for Ser Ricard, would you? Third shelf on the right," the head healer ordered, and as Apprentice Trevelyan shuffled off he leaned in close, his expression suddenly serious.

"How bad was it?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"... it comes and goes," Ricard confessed quietly. "This was the worst I've had this year." He had worse reactions from withdrawal before, but those were all in the field when he had pushed himself to his limits and stretched his doses out beyond what his body could endure. He had not thought it would grow to be so unbearable here within Ostwick itself! As Apprentice Trevelyan searched the shelves for ginger the head healer shook his head and straightened up.

"I will write that in your file. We must be vigilant. Should you suffer anything- a headache, a loss of memory, a... a vision of any sort- you will return here. No tarrying, absolutely none. Trevelyan, the ginger-"

"Here. It's here," Apprentice Trevelyan shuffled back, a glass jar clutched in her hands, and she untied the string and removed the wax paper that covered the opening of the jar. "Crystallized ginger. Chew it slowly, it should help." "Thank you," Ricard replied, and he fished out a large, pale yellow chunk of ginger from the jar. He popped it into his mouth and bit into it, and it was sharp and spicy and sweet on his tongue. It did not provide instant relief, but it was... it was something. When the head healer turned away Ricard fished out another bit of ginger.

"Here," Ser Ricard whispered, and he pressed a large piece of the candied root into the girl's palm. "Blackberry cordial, was it?"

"... I did not think it would be so potent," the girl mumbled. "Ser."

"Aye. It sneaks up on you. The sweetness masks the poison within," he said sternly. "You've learned a valuable lesson in that, I think. No need to suffer any more for it." No point in suffering if there was a way to fix the hurt, to keep the pain from going on and on. The girl nibbled on the candied ginger like a mouse nibbling at a crust of bread. Her red-rimmed dark eyes watched him carefully.

"Thank you," she finally said. "I... I hope you feel better soon. Ser."

"And you as well," Ricard replied, and he didn't have the heart to tell the girl that there was little chance of him making a recovery. Let her have the belief that lyrium ingestion (or the lack of it) was as easy for Templars to recover from as a rowdy night of youthful indulgences. Let her have hope, at least for now.

He could give that much. He had little else to give.

[prophecyofthestarseed]

Series lore

The Starseed Codex

Long before Savage Heart or Voodoo Army, before Quinn and Shawn's souls began their eternal dance across lifetimes, there was a secret cadre within the Knights' Templar - an inner circle known as the Starwatchers. Unlike their brethren, these knights were mystics as well as warriors, sworn not just to protect pilgrims, but to guard a celestial prophecy - The Starseed Codex.

Hidden beneath the Temple Mount, they discovered tablets of unknown origin, inscribed in a language older than any other Earth tongue - etched by those known only as the Elohim of the Harmonic Dawn.

The Codex foretold the rise of twin flames whose union would initiate a Creative Golden Age - an era where art, sound and spirit would realign Earth with higher planes of consciousness. These souls would reincarnate again and again, drawing each other across centuries through sound and suffering, until the time is right.

The Schism And The Curse

A faction within the Templars, seduced by dark energies and contact with ancient desert spirits, broke away. They became the Order Of The Broken Flame, seeking to distort the prophecy and claim the creative power for themselves.

One of their rituals birthed the entity that now stalks the band and Shawn's son, Stevie - a remnant of their forbidden summoning, bound to destroy the Starseed line.

Quinn and Shawn's bloodline

Both are descendants of reincarnated Starwatchers who were sent to Earth by their planets of origin to fulfill the prophecy, bound by soul contracts stretching back to the beginning of time. The dreams and music they channel, as well as their astral and celestial powers and forms, are echoes of that ancient knowledge. Voodoo Army's songs are more than just music - they're activation codes, reawakening buried frequencies in listeners.

The Modern Age

The Order Of The Broken Flame experienced a revival in the 1960's, reawakening the entity. Because this set of Order members weren't as knowledgeable when it came to dark magic, the entity quickly spiraled out of control, possessing and killing people unaffiliated with the Order until it was trapped within a house in the small town of Acworth, Georgia. There, in 1989, it possessed the body of a young musician named Jesse "Mouse" Hensen, and was eventually defeated, but set free, by Quinn in her astral form. From there the entity, now weakened by Quinn's exorcism, was called to LA by baneful magic practitioner Alivia "Liv" Renard, the high priestess of the Order Of The Broken Flame and ex girlfriend of Shawn Ravish.

Fast forward to 2004 - Quinn, Dwayne and Mouse have just arrived in LA after traveling across the country in their death trap van, Karen, on their diy Rotten Soldiers tour. Shawn sees them perform at one of the clubs on the Sunset Strip, where they stick out like sore thumbs among the polished glamour and extravagance of the dwindling but still vibrant LA scene. Loud, combative, with songs of death and monsters, Shawn finds himself drawn to them - in particular, to Quinn. She feels familiar and safe to him in a way that no one else ever has.

Shawn doesn't take long at all to befriend the trio, and before they all know it, they're teaming up to start a new band, merging their musical styles together. Their sound is powerful, unlike anything anyone has heard before, and soon they notice that odd things begin to happen during rehearsals. Disembodied voices can be heard underneath their wall of sound, as if a whispered choir of ghosts is accompanying them. Lights flicker, auras shine a little too bright. They know right away that this isn't just another band, and it's definitely not another comeback scheme for Shawn. This was a cosmic union making itself known via the language of music.

Soon, however, other strangeness begins to rear its multiple heads - Shawn's son, Stevie, is having nightmares, and keeps talking about "The Man" who talks to him in his room at night. The Order Of The Broken Flame gets a new, dangerous member, a ghost from the band's high school days. Soon, Quinn, Dwayne and Mouse realize that Shawn has more enemies than they'd thought, and a past darkened by the purity cult he was raised in and Liv's influence that he's still struggling to overcome, as well as Quinn's past traumas that threaten to overturn the life she's worked so hard to improve.

It's not just a story of music, magic and prophecy, but hope, love, trust, and redemption, set in a world where nothing truly is as it seems.

[shemuel-bensusan]

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[shemuelbensusan]