#battle for redcliffe

[emmavakarian-theirin]

ISOLDE.

[deedeemactir]

FIRST OF ALL y’all need to show Anora Mac Tir some love, because if you stay true to your word, she flips that ride or die switch for you REAL QUICK. She comes out in support of you as long as you promise to support her (rightful!) claim as monarch and just do what you can to spare her father. And when you do spare him, Alistair will say Fuck you, go die alone, I’m not just leaving the Wardens, I’m not even going to Redcliffe as King (which, if you’ve romanced him, cuts like a knife). So, what does Anora do? Laces up that armor and says We ride at dawn, bitches. Then hypes you up to all your troops at the gate.

PUT SOME RESPECT ON HER NAME

[juniemoe]

thinking of... adding my old amell as a companion to ashara.

[necromancer-nonbinary]

Oops! All Undead!

[illusivesoul]

Why Rendon Howe is evil

This is a little theory thats been going around in my head for several days.

Rendon Howe. Evil personified. Probably one of the most despicable and hated characters in the Dragon Age series. One of the characters thats most easily defined as being just plain bad and evil, with good reason. Even in the game itself no one likes him (with 1 exception that I'll mention later in this post)

In the game, we really aren't given many reasons as to why he is the way he is and why he does the thing he does beyond saying he's evil, power hungry, and like he himself says as he dies, "I deserved more!" But recently I started to become curious about him to try to find out what had made him become like this, cause I prefer villains to have some complexity that goes beyond just "He's evil just because".

Rest of the analysis under the cut.

.

My main theory of why I think Rendon became "evil" is cause he may have suffered brain damage due to his injuries while fighting against Orlais with Maric and his rebels. My first thought for this came cause historically, Henry the 8th of England suffered several brain injuries during sporting events, and its believed that his injuries led to him having a severe personality change, which led to him become more radical, tyrannical and murderous.

After the death of his father and the Howe family joining the rebellion, Rendon joined Maric's forces and became close friends with Bryce Cousland, future Teyrn of Highever, and Leonas Bryland, future Arl of South Reach. The 3 of them fought together in the Battle of White River, which was the worse defeat the rebels suffered in the war against Orlais, and only 50 of the initial thousand soldier strong fereldan army survived.

Rendon was very badly injured during the battle, and Bryce and Leonas had to dragged him away to safety as the rebel army was crushed by the orlesians. Bryce was injured in the arm while trying to save Rendon from a chevalier. They got Rendon to Redcliffe and stayed with him for a month while he recovered before leaving to rejoin Maric and the rest of the rebel forces. While Rendon recovered in Redcliffe, he was tended to by Leonas's sister, Eliane, until he eventually recovered months later. He eventually proposed to her and they got married.

And here is the first bit of evidence we get of Rendon's attitude and behaviour completely changing after that battle and his wounds. From the wiki: "Leonas had become concerned by the changes in his friend's behavior since the battle and attempted to prevent the marriage." And some other quotes from Leonas that we get to her in dao: "Rendon Howe was no friend of mine. The boy I knew... died at the Battle of White River" and "That he didn't die years ago is the only thing worth mourning here." Leonas cut all contact with Rendon after he told him that he was only marrying his sister for her dowry and connections.

This goes back to what I mentioned earlier about the one person that seemed to care for Rendon. That person is Bryce Cousland.

Bryce and Eleanor were the only people that attended Rendon and Eliane's wedding, and even though Rendon was treated as a pariah by almost everyone in fereldan nobility, Bryce still maintained a friendly relation with Rendon, and seemed to have an almost protective attitude towards him, which contrasts greatly with how Leonas feels about Rendon. And this is where I came up with another theory about why this is. I believe that Bryce feels personally responsible for the injuries and near death that Rendon suffered during the Battle of White River and feels that he is somehow obligated to look after him. I can only hc why these could be, but maybe Rendon got injured while protecting Bryce, or maybe Bryce's actions during the battle led to Rendon's injuries. Maybe that's why Bryce seems to have keep pushing for the friendship that he once had with him, even though he clearly no longer was the same person. Cause Bryce felt responsible for the way Rendon had turned out.

Its possible that Rendon was just always like this, and those months he spent recovering just made him become super resentful against everything and everyone, but I do believe that the near death injuries he suffered during that battle, including possible head injuries and brain trauma, led to his personality changing and to him becoming the sheer villain we see ingame.

And to finish, a bit of background as to why Rendon would have hated Bryce even despite of this, here's a bit of info about them and about the relation between Highever and Amaranthine.

Rendon's father, Tarleton, supported Orlais during their occupation of Ferelden, and was eventually hanged by the Couslands before the Howes officially joined the rebellion. Adding the fact that Highever was once part of Amaranthine before they rebelled to gain their independence and annexed a good part of southern Amaranthine after winning their independence war, it adds some context to how Rendon could have seen this part of his greater vengeance against the Couslands and Highever for killing his father and taking away land from Amaranthine.

TL,DR: Rendon Howe suffered grieveous injuries during the war against Orlais, including possible brain injuries which may have led to a complete personality shift and to him becoming the person that we see him being in the game.

[chenria]

I don’t share WIPs often because they are a Patreon thing mostly. But here I like the outlines a lot already. There are a few minor adjustments that I need to make before coloring, but other than that… I’m quite happy with this so far.

It’s a redraw of a picture from 2015. My Grey Warden Meriana Cousland and Bann Teagan. The moment they realize that time and circumstances are against them after the battle of Redcliffe.

(I won’t return to the DA fandom, but I felt nostalgic.)

[anneapocalypse]

Ostagar was planned.

The thing is, it had to be.

Note: I am saying all this as someone who likes Loghain a lot as a character. I find him really interesting and a lot of his motivations compelling, even if I do not agree with or defend all of his actions. He’s one of my favorite Dragon Age antagonists, and I see him as someone who truly does see himself as the hero. So this is all coming from a place, not of wanting to condemn Loghain, but of wanting to understand him.

Loghain, understandably, never really comes out and says this, even when he’s acknowledging what he did; his statements about “a fool’s death and a hard choice” leave open the possibility that the retreat was a decision made in the moment. But when we look at the circumstances beyond Ostagar, there’s just no way that could be true.

Here’s why I think so, and why I don't think it actually changes that much about Loghain's motives.

Alistair and the Tower of Ishal

I'll start with the circumstantial, and therefore weakeast, pieces of evidence.

First: Loghain objects to the plan of sending two Grey Wardens to the Tower of Ishal to light the beacon.

It is genuinely sort of a strange decision. One would assume you’d want the darkspawn fighters on the ground fighting darkspawn, not standing in a tower holding a torch. It has been theorized that Cailan makes this choice deliberately because he knows Alistair is his half-brother, and means to protect him as the heir to the throne should he fall in battle. (It would maybe have been good if he had discussed this with Alistair first—but that is neither here nor there.) I think it’s a plausible theory but I’m not here to argue for or against it today.

Loghain does not object to this plan on the grounds that it’s a poor use of the Grey Wardens’ skills, however; on the contrary, he argues, “You rely on these Grey Wardens too much, Cailan. Is that truly wise?”

His distrust of the Wardens generally is well-documented, so by itself, this statement could be entirely sincere. But in hindsight, it’s hard not to see this as possibly Loghain wanting all the Wardens together on the battlefield—where they can fall together.

Furthermore, it is explicitly stated that it was Loghain’s soldiers in charge of securing the tower. Loghain did not know at the time that it would be Grey Wardens lighting the beacon, but his dialogue with Cailan makes it clear that their general plans for the battle were already in place, and the beacon was a vital part of that plan. The beacon going unlit, or being delayed, would give him an excuse for withdrawing his troops from the battle. I don’t think it’s an accident that the lower levels of the tower are not properly secured, or that no one notices until the battle is already underway.

The evidence surrounding the Tower of Ishal is circumstantial. But there are other events taking place during and after Ostagar that suggest Loghain had a plan before the battle.

Jowan and Redcliffe

The Warden and Alistair wake up in Flemeth’s hut following the failed battle; we don’t know how long the Warden was out, but it doesn’t seem to have been that long. From here, they can proceed to Lothering and then pretty much immediately to Redcliffe, where they find the village has been under seige by undead, for days already. So the timeline looks something like this:

During the Prologue:

Jowan escapes from the Circle at Lake Calenhad.

Sometime between the Prologue and the Warden’s arrival at Redcliffe:

Templars hunt down and apprehend Jowan.

Loghain’s men intercept the templars and offer to fix things for Jowan if he does the Teyrn’s bidding: infiltrate Redcliffe Castle and poison the arl.

Jowan is hired by Isolde to tutor Connor.

Jowan poisons Arl Eamon, who falls ill.

Connor, desperate to save his father, accepts a deal from a desire demon and becomes possessed.

Most of the servants in the castle are killed, becoming walking corpses which themselves attack others.

The undead then begin attacking the village nightly.

Bann Teagan arrives to find the village in chaos, and tries to help the people defend themselves until he can get inside the castle.

The Warden arrives in Redcliffe.

That’s a lot to happen in the brief window between Ostagar and how soon the Warden can leave Lothering. Teagan is also seen in Denerim in the cutscene immediately following following Ostagar, so it’s unclear when, precisely, he arrives at Redcliffe, but it’s likely after that. This is also a video game, so we probably shouldn’t take travel times too seriously. Nevertheless, it’s already a lot to happen in a very short period of time, even more so if we cut the time between Prologue and Ostagar out of the picture.

Furthermore, I think Loghain has to know about Connor, to deliberately choose an apostate mage as his infiltrator. This does not suggest a last-minute panic move, but a man who has spent time gathering intelligence on the man most likely to oppose him.

Uldred and the Circle

Uldred and Loghain have a deal.

We don't see it first hand, but we learn that in a meeting back at the Circle Tower after Ostagar, Uldred tells the other mages that if the Circle supports Loghain, he will ensure that they are given greater freedom. Wynne, however, shoots this down, calling Loghain a traitor. Tensions escalate until fighting breaks out, Uldred becomes possessed, and the rest is history.

Ostagar is in chaos after the battle. Uldred would be with the mages in the main force, and Loghain's contingent is retreating. It is very unlikely that Uldred and Loghain have any opportunity to speak after the battle. It makes far more sense that they speak before.

This may even be why Uldred personally makes the suggestion that a mage should light the beacon rather than the Grey Wardens, before his idea is shot down by a Revered Mother.

Howe and Highever

The attack on Castle Cousland is probably the strongest piece of evidence that Loghain's plans were in motion before Ostagar.

The timing of Howe’s coup in Highever cannot be a coincidence. Howe is an opportunist. He has resented Bryce Cousland for years, a resentment that the teyrn has no doubt tried to mitigate by offering Howe favor and friendship. But underneath all their supposed camaraderie, Howe still holds a lesser title, and feels he deserves what Bryce has.

But he has never acted on that resentment before now.

Howe would never have attacked the Couslands if he didn’t think he could get away with it. And why would he think that under King Cailan? The King’s response to a Cousland warden’s news is shock at Howe’s actions and a promise to bring him to justice after the battle—a promise that Cailan does not live to keep.

Howe knows that Cailan will be out of the way soon. He has to. And his support of Loghain is likely being rewarded with a promise to let him keep Highever.

It is also made explicitly clear in the Cousland prologue that Bryce is a very loyal supporter of King Cailan, and he is one of the most powerful men in Ferelden, the only one of a rank equal to Loghain—which gives Loghain a whole lot of incentive to have him out of the way, just like Eamon, if he’s planning a regime change.

Loghain’s Motives

So, if we accept that Loghain’s betrayal of Cailan was premeditated, what does that change about his motives?

Maybe less than you’d think. The truth is, everything about Cailan that might cause Loghain to make an on-the-spot decision at Ostagar, he already knows well before the battle. He knows that Cailan is a romantic, obsessed with heroic stories but with little experience actually leading an army. He knows that his daughter the queen handles most of the actual ruling of Ferelden. Though he does not seem to know about Cailan’s personal correspondences with Empress Celene (judging by his reactions if you take him along for Ostagar), he probably knows about Cailan’s affairs (because Anora knows), and he definitely knows that Cailan is getting a bit too friendly with Orlais for his comfort. The Wardens coming to Ferelden from Orlais has already raised his hackles well before the battle at Ostagar. The fact that Cailan has called upon Orlais for military aid is probably a bridge too far.

All this is to say that if Loghain is truly as unimpressed with Cailan’s rule and as concerned for Ferelden’s freedom as he seems to be… none of these concerns begin at Ostagar. This is not about one battle poorly handled. This has been building for quite some time, probably since Cailan's coronation if we're being honest. And as a seasoned military officer, I don’t believe that Loghain would wait until the last minute to make that decision. He would be looking at the potential outcomes (or what he fears would be the outcomes), not just of Ostagar, but of Cailan’s decisions and policies generally.

And when it all reached a tipping point, he would begin making a plan.

Whether he's wrong or right, whether Ferelden is in the kind of danger he believes, that I’m not here to argue today. I do think it’s possible to see it multiple ways. I think that given what we now know of Empress Celene from The Masked Empire, it’s safe to say she had no intention of trying to reconquer Ferelden through military force. I also think it’s safe to say that Loghain does not have the knowledge that we now have, and has no reason to trust her intentions. There is plenty that Loghain does later that I will not defend. But I do find his motives with regard to Ferelden’s independence, and his long personal stake in it, at the very least sympathetic, and certainly compelling with regard to his character arc overall.

We tend to be more lenient toward crimes of passion, actions taken in the heat of the moment, largely because the underlying assumption is that the person might not have acted rationally, perhaps would not have acted so had they not been so provoked, and might regret their actions immediately after. I do not think this describes Loghain; I also don’t think that changes a whole lot in his case, because he was always going to act when he felt that Ferelden was threatened, whether it was in the moment or through weeks or months of careful planning. He has invested too much, lost too much, for the sake of this nation. If he believes it is under threat, he is going to act.

And I think that all the evidence, as well as all that we know of Loghain himself, points to him acting with a plan.

[boowasphone]

Hello phighting tag!!! If you saw there is two qna videos for phighting which includes some lore, now those videos combined are about 4 hours but my friend @hexyn went through the videos and compiled some of the most interesting bits of information

Everything will be under the cut

EVERYTHING THAT IS SAID IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE/POSSIBLY MISHEARD

- boss battle plans, everyone teamed up to defeat one big guy (probably ????? kind of????? already done considering the sfoth rounds)

- gacha system with zuka hosting a item store to buy crates for skins

- being able to buy stickers from zuka's store

- "storymode really roughly outlined/planned" said by soda and will pay their attention towards singleplayer storymode after they're done with multiplayer

- plans on adding chat titles next to your name

- dom and valk were apparently born into fame by their parents being very popular and them carrying their career

- allusions has a phighting map in their game

- more accesory npcs besides dom and valk coming soon

- rocket canonically being adopted by zuka

- valk and dom apparently sees the phighters as nothing but a faster way to make money and nothing else said by soda

- hyperlaser apparently has a mask under his helmet, not specified which one tho but its probably a joke answer

- in future updates, the skins will go away and would soon be added in zuka's shop

- possibly being able to visit other areas around the map (thieves den, playground, lost temple and blackrock)

- minigames getting added in crossroads such as fishing, etc

- apparently said by soda, blackrock are the heavily demonized people in the lore so far by her and the devs, "purposefully starting shit to piss others off"

- none of them can't eat spicy food besides hyperlaser

- crossroads, thieves den, playground, lost temple, blackrock etc all live in one big giant land and are separated by regions around the areas

- apparently the Inphinity is/or has an extremely large sentient entity outside of the phighting universe

- with the subspace and medkit situation, medkit wanted to help people with the crystals while subspace wants to cause chaos, the crystals in between their horns are from their own expirements, they both use the alternative energy source to wield their weapons

- all of the regions canonically hate eachother and all have different motives

- skins in game are described as non-canon alternate universes, just a excuse for skins and some in the future may be canon

- subspace was assigned to make biograft by blackrock's leader

- darkheart is (sort of) friends with venomshank, similar to the way you'd wave to someone you know across the street

- broker will give you daily challenges, and when completed he will tell you a bit of lore

- sfoth swords (excluding sword) are like deities in the inphinity

- banhammer was originally going to be a part of Blackrock, with many of the Blackrock figures knowing him; however, this was changed, and now he is factionless

- broker has been arrested for murder, manslaughter, and gear laundering (although no one said that he did the recent murders in crossroads, ofc still very bad and deserves to be imprisoned)

- The faction leaders will be playable characters, and the four will each be based off of overseer, darkage, korblox, and redfield/redcliff

- biografts do NOT wipe

- medkit found sword injured and nursed him back to health; the two eventually became friends as a result (this will probably be expanded on in the future)

- rocket can't swim and is in first place of playable characters that would most likely swear the most. The 2nd is subspace, and that's it. Note that rocket apparently gets it from zuka

- biograft does not truly hate everyone; they are simply a killing machine who shows no mercy to their enemies

- banhammer isn't blind, he just thinks he's so powerful he intentionally nerfs himself by blinding himself (he thinks it's funny)

- hyperlaser's face has never been revealed due to the idea him being a very mysterious character; they may reveal it in the far future, though it would ruin the mysteriousness

- soda plans to make ugc for Phighting (not lore related though notable to add)

- there are multiple biograft models such as zeta, epsilon, and beta (zeta is the orange one)

- regions may have genetics:

blackrock will have demons with fangs

lost temple will have big dudes (with "something with their eyes?" this was not expanded on)

thieves den will have markings on their body

they don't know what playground would be just "very very silly"

- phighters are created from a big fountain called "The Spawn"; the spawn pops out new people with their own gear these people are not born as babies, and they have a level of intelligence. after they are born, they are assigned a faction and shipped off to their respective location. If two people sacrifice their gear to the spawn, a biological child is formed; however, this is very uncommon as few are willing to sacrifice their gear

[midorisudachi]

"We are ridiculously awesome!" - Zevran Arainai (after winning a battle)

Happy December, loves! How are we already at the end of the year? I have felt incredibly scatter-brained this entire year, due to how fast it has been flying by. I feel as if I didn't get anything (that I had planned to do this year) done. Does anybody else feel that way? I had all these ideas in my head to drawn Dragon Age Inquisition characters every other Monday until Dragon Age Day...which was December 4th...and I did not accomplish my goal! Life catches up to you, ya now?

Zevran is absolutely delightful in Dragon Age Origins. He has no shame in what he says...zero filters with his words! Ha ha! He has the best conversations with the characters and I love his bantering. He's my favourite bisexual elf! I had decided to draw him in a heavy armour...I think it was the "Ceremonial Armour".

Some of my favourite Zevran quotes:

"Elves plant these trees to remind themselves of who they once were. And then they pee on it. Charming symbolism, really." - At the vhenadhal tree.)

"How did I get here? What happened to all those luscious wood nymphs?" - After waking up from the Sloth Demon tricking him

"Hmm... Anyone up for a little bit of naked cliffdiving? No?" - At Redcliffe

And the best one:

Zevran: Might I offer you a bit of advice, my good friend Alistair?

Alistair: I like my hair the way it is, thank you.

Zevran: Truly? As you wish... though my advice is regarding something else completely. It has to do with your recent... exertions with your fellow Grey Warden that I overheard.

Alistair: My...? Oh.

Zevran: It did seem as if you just got going when all grew quiet. You are... feeling all right, yes? Perhaps you are tired?

Alistair: We aren't talking about this, are we? Did I hit my head?

Zevran: I have some roots from home that you may chew if you need energy. As for volume, perhaps you ought to try arching your--

Alistair: Whoa! Whoa! Awkward!

Zevran: You Fereldens are so finicky. How will you ever learn how to pleasure each other unless you talk about it?

Alistair: Not listening! La la la la la!

I hope everybody likes this fan art! Notice the date on it? Yes! I drew this a year ago. Why did I not post it on Tumblr before? *Facepalm* Really though...I hope this is well received & enjoyed. This year I have felt like a failure when it comes to art, for it honestly seems like people prefer digital art over traditional art. Is this so? I love traditional art...I don't want it to die out. Even worse is that some people prefer AI "art" (more like ART THEFT!) over real artists. It can be hard to be an artist sometimes. Don't get me wrong. I love digi art, too. But often my heart yearns for more traditional artwork, as it often gets tossed aside. I feel that is one reason why I had not done well with my art on Instagram. From now on, I will only be posting art here on Tumblr. Thank you to ALL of you who have liked and shared my artwork. You mean a lot to me and I appreciate you in supporting me. PLEASE let me know if you draw Dragon Age fan art, too! I'd love to see it.

Drawn with Sakura Pigma Micron pens and then coloured in with a mix of Copics and Ohuhu markers. White accents done with a gel pen. Background was done in Photoshop Elements.

Zevran Arainai & Dragon Age Origins (c) Bioware & Electronic Arts

[vigilskeep]

curious on your ostagar opinions as a player—i’m personally on the side of “ostagar wasn’t anyone’s fault, including loghain’s, though some people cailin couldve minimized the loss better than they did”, (though i still hold loghain very accountable for the way he handles the ferelden civil war and the slavery), but i know you spared him in your main playthrough

ostagar’s an interesting one and it’s taken me a while to develop my thoughts on it. battles are by nature complicated and chaotic and hard to pin down to one factor—there’s a reason real medieval war leaders tended to avoid them if possible—but here’s some thoughts

1. the push to confront the darkspawn as quickly as possible, even when troops from amaranthine, redcliffe, orlais, etc. had not yet arrived. both cailan and loghain seem responsible for this. cailan is reckless and confident, unconcerned with the idea of facing the darkspawn without reinforcements, and loghain actively vetoes the idea of waiting for orlesian reinforcements. as i recall it’s primarily duncan who wants to wait but the grey wardens are on shaky footing and he doesn’t have the influence to press that. if it hadn’t been for loghain’s insistence, cailan might well have waited for the orlesians, but if cailan hadn’t called for the orlesians, maybe loghain would be the one counselling to wait for redcliffe and amaranthine. neither should loghain’s fears of the orlesians be written off as unreasonable imo like yes his choice here went badly but it wasn’t based on unfounded prejudice and there’s no way to know what might have happened

2. the beacon was delayed and mistimed. this isn’t anyone’s fault except the darkspawn. alistair and the warden were supposed to light the beacon at a particular time, but instead of that being an easy job, the tower has been suddenly overrun by the time they get there. alistair comments as you fight through the tower that you’ve probably missed the signal and should light the beacon just, like, as soon as you get up there. this chaos must have affected decisions taken on the ground and, as the main change from the original battle plan, was possibly why the beacon was delayed enough that loghain considered there no longer to be any chance of saving cailan

3. alistair says at flemeth’s hut that he has no idea why loghain would turn away, and that the king’s forces “had nearly defeated” the darkspawn. i’ll make allowances for his perspective being somewhat affected by the losses he’s just suffered, but his judgements are generally very good on this kind of thing and i trust them. i don’t see any reason to write this off, especially combined with other witness accounts. i do believe him that there was a real possibility to win here

4. at flemeth’s hut, all anyone can guess is that loghain wanted the throne—men’s hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature, and all that—but there’s no sign of this in loghain later in the game, although supporters of his like howe may have wanted that as an end goal. there’s nothing ambitious in loghain, there’s no intent to betray. loghain claims he remembers “a fool’s death and a hard choice” and that “the darkspawn would either have had him or have had us all”. it seems odd that he consistently blames cailan’s foolishness when it was a battle plan he had agreed to and nothing really changes on cailan’s part, but cailan’s recklessness and lack of care for battle plans is thoroughly set up in the ostagar prologue and i imagine it affected how he was handling things during the battle and also the aforementioned failures to get all of ferelden’s forces there in time. nonetheless my point is that this was purely a tactical decision on loghain’s part, and he regretted cailan’s loss (even if he blamed cailan for it). so either he genuinely thought the battle could not be won, or that it would mean enough losses that it would not be worth winning. and i trust his judgements too—battle leadership and strategy is his whole skillset

SO where does all that leave us. i think ultimately my perspective on the battle, which i think gives it a reasonable balance and a reasonable way to argue both sides, is that if loghain had followed the plan they would have won and cailan and duncan might have lived. thus, loghain can be considered responsible. however it would have left ferelden with significantly higher casualties. loghain’s men would have been lost as well as the king’s. ferelden would have been in an even worse state than it already was, and that with a) a blight still ongoing, since the archdemon was not present at ostagar, and b) a whole orlesian army of reinforcements on the way, with no-one to stop them at the border, and who with ferelden’s defences completely crippled might well fight the darkspawn just like the grey wardens wanted... and then find reason to stick around. celene was obviously trying to regain orlesian influence in ferelden with her letters to cailan, and there are several pieces of minor dialogue in da2 which openly threaten the possibility of orlais retaking ferelden in the aftermath of the blight’s destruction. could they really resist the temptation if their armies had the excuse to already be there? ferelden hasn’t even been free for as long as it was under orlesian rule

(as a side note, me sparing loghain in my main playthrough isn’t me being a Loghain Was Right truther and certainly doesn’t mean i or my warden absolve him of his actions during the blight, especially towards the alienage. ‘is loghain right/morally salvageable?’ isn’t really the decision my warden makes at the landsmeet; it’s ‘is it more important to kill a man for doing evil or to let him live to do good?’. it’s ‘is it more important to publicly make a peaceful compromise or to make a strong statement against my enemies and in favour of my allies?’ more personally to my warden, it’s ‘i have fought so hard all this time so that everyone will know someone like me can save ferelden, but how will the history books remember me if i become the elven mage who killed the hero of river dane?’ those are all far more interesting and relevant considerations to explore for me narratively than assigning blame)

[bambsik]

(I need to start take more screenshots by myself I swear)

Redcliffe was... Definitely something.

Helping people in the village was propably the first time Helen didn't agreed with Morrigan. But she couldn't left them behind. She already saw a lost battle. She doesn't want to do this again.

But then, with Connor... She listened to Jowan about the ritual. She definitely wasn't going to ask for help in the Circle. And they had a willing participant. And Jowan is her best friend. The most important thing was to defeat that demon and she did it herself. Helen definitely feels more powerful now.

But what really sucked was Alistair reaction after they left. He comes to her, all calm and nice: "heeey, I want to talk to you about Redcliffe, I had the time to think about it" and THEN he starts screaming at her: "HOW DARE YOU, HOW COULD YOU MAKE THAT DECISION, I OWE EAMON MORE THAN THAT"

Yes, Alistair. YOU owe him more. I made that decision because YOU put me in charge. YOU didn't stop me.

First, you're putting in charge emotionaly unstable 18 yo mage who was Grey Warden for what? An hour? And then you're all bitter about it?

Helen definitely cried in her tent after that.

It is hard. She didn't imagine her fate to be like that after leaving the Circle. And she's travelling with who? Witch of the Wilds, who has interesting point of view but can be really ruthless, and doesn't really seem to want to make friendships; crazy Chantry lady; some former-templar asshole, who put all responsibility for poor Helen and then is mad about it; qunari who is apparently happy when she's insulting him and two strange dwarves. The only normal person is her dog.

[lady-myrcella]

Hello everyone! I’ve been a lurker of the Dragon Age fandom for years now and I've decided that perhaps I should try and give back. Here is a quick fic I wrote about my Surana and Alistair after the Connor quest.

~~~~~

After a day of rest at Redcliffe Castle at the behest of Bann Teagan, Neria and her party set off for Denerim. 

The rest was a welcome lull after the events of the prior days: the siege of Redcliffe by walking corpses, Lady Isolde sacrificing her life for that of her sons, her childhood friend Jowan collaborating with Teyrn Loghain and poisoning Arl Eamon, and, of course, the revelation that Alistair was the bastard son of King Maric. 

It was all taking a toll on her and she needed time to be alone with her thoughts.

While her team recuperated at the castle in their own unique ways, Neria couldn't help but sense a restless energy emanating from Alistair. Despite allowing herself a moment of solitude for the first time since the Battle of Ostagar, she felt his restlessness tugging at her consciousness during their fleeting interactions, and it vexed her. One day of rest would hardly endanger their mission to save Arl Eamon. His condition remained stable, and their party required a well-deserved break. 

The feelings did not cease even now as they traveled. She felt Alistair’s eyes on the back of her head as they walked. She felt his intensity up until they set up camp for the night.

----

After the evening meal was finished, and the camp duties divided up and completed, the party conversed around the campfire for a brief moment before splitting off for the evening. 

Morrigan secluded herself by her fire, busying herself with the brewing of health potions to replenish their dwindling supplies. Sten, his countenance solemn and brooding as ever, honed his sword. Alistair sat a short distance away by his tent, deliberately faced away from the warmth of the fire, allowing the flickering light to illuminate the pages of a tome that absorbed his attention. Leliana remained close to Neria, her fingers softly plucking at the strings of her lute. Neria noticed that Leliana had reconsidered Morrigan's earlier suggestion of composing a ballad to immortalize the events that had transpired in Redcliffe.

As Neria sat by the campfire, a chill wind swept through the camp, causing her cloak to flutter and tug at her frame. Kane, her Mabari, nestled his head by her feet offering some comfort. She obliged him with a gentle scratch behind his ears.

Her thoughts swirled with the memories of Redcliffe. She felt deep sadness over what she allowed to be done to Lady Isolde but there was little choice. The blood magic ritual was a terrible but available alternative to killing an innocent child. 

Interestingly, what was distracting her the most was Alistair's revelation of his true heritage. Alistair and her had become comfortably close since Ostagar, maybe too close. She relied on his company and playful banter to get her through the difficulties of their travels. He was quickly becoming Neria’s confidant and dearest friend, perhaps the only true friend she has ever known. The bond they built battling alongside each other strengthened with each passing day. Yet, she couldn't help but feel a sinking feeling in her gut that Alistair's blood would tear them apart. 

And now he was displeased with her, though she could not figure out why. Since setting up camp Alistair’s mood turned introspective. He barely looked at her while they ate supper and  immediately retired to sit by himself as soon as he had the chance.

Neria understood now that her initial suspicion was not correct. It was not their delayed departure in search of the Urn of Sacred Ashes that had upset him. Perhaps, she thought, it was her own reaction upon learning of his secret parentage that had caused this shift in mood. She didn't react kindly to this important piece of information being concealed to her, especially since Loghain most likely knew of it himself, but she didn't blame him after he explained his reasoning and accepted his apology. 

His current dismissal of her made her feel invisible for the first time since her early days in the Circle.

Leliana began to hum a soft tune that took her out of her thoughts. Neria realized she needed to be alone and clear her mind. She stood and eyed a dirty log at the edge of camp to sit on. Kane whined, reading her mind. What an intelligent dog. 

“It's alright Kane, you can stay warm here.”

A grumble of pity followed and Kane thumped his large head back onto the ground near the fire. 

Neria wandered off. It certainly was cold sitting so far away from the campfire. 

She thought, not for the first time, to make her own fire away from the others like Morrigan. And again she thought against it.

'A leader is someone who has the capacity and the will to rally people to a common purpose, and the ability to inspire confidence,' was something First Enchanter Irving once told her, 'a person who gains the trust and loyalty of their followers by working alongside them.'

Making such a public display of sitting off in a corner like Morrigan, away from her companions would not inspire confidence or loyalty. She needed to be present to hold her little group together. She wished the Circle trained her better for something like this. The Circle had taught her little about the intricacies of interpersonal skills, save for First Enchanter Irving's wise quips and by observing the covert social games he played to ensure that Kinloch Hold ran smoothly. 

Irving was another sore spot in her chest. She couldn't deny it any longer—Irving had orchestrated her recruitment into the Grey Wardens, knowing full well that she would assist Jowan in his escape. The Templars didn't want any more mages outside of the Circle, and this was a way to pressure them into allowing one more to help stop the Blight. 

Neria put her cloak’s hood up and closed her eyelids, focusing on an invisible spot between her eyes and began a meditation practice that had been instilled into her by one of her teachers in the Circle. It was taught for moments precisely like these—as a respite from the torment of incessant thinking, which only brought forth pain and uncertainty. She could not afford to slip into a state of mind detrimental to her stopping the Blight.

Just as she began to lose herself in the depths of her inner stillness, a voice startled her out of her concentration.

“I want to talk about what happened. At Redcliffe.” 

Neria looked up, straining her eyes in the dimly lit night to discern Alistair's features in the darkness.

“What's on your mind, Alistair?” 

"You allowed Lady Isolde to sacrifice herself? Through blood magic?!" Alistair snapped. His voice trembled, disbelief seeping through every syllable. "How in the Maker's name could you possibly make such a decision?!"

Neria sat in stunned silence at Alistair's outburst. She had never seen him so furious, had never seen such anger in his eyes. A storm of emotions swelled in her chest and washed over her in waves—shock, fear, sorrow, and finally anger. Did he truly believe her to be heartless? Had he really spent the past two days nursing this conviction, believing that she just callously chose to sacrifice Isolde? Could he not comprehend the immense pressure she had been under, considering all they had been through?

Unable to remain silent, her pride surged forth. "And what alternatives did we have?" she retorted, her voice laced with annoyance. "Should we have condemned an innocent child to death instead? Is that what you propose?"

"We could have sought aid from the Circle of Magi! We should have exhausted every other option before resorting to blood magic —that much is clear!"

"We’re Grey Wardens, Alistair! It’s our duty to use any means necessary to stop the Blight, even if it involves blood magic. Leaving Redcliffe and going to the Circle would have jeopardized the lives of every citizen of Redcliffe. You know that!”

In the tense silence that followed, Alistair's expression wavered. His voice lowered as he continued.  "This is the Arl's wife we're discussing," he noted, the words hanging in the cold night air. "What do you think he'll say when we revive him? I simply can't comprehend how you could make that decision... I... I owe the Arl more than this."

Neria’s chest tightened as Alistair's words echoed through her head. She glanced at the campfire in the distance, its embers casting fleeting flickers of light into the dark sky. She internally berated herself. With Alistair’s last remark, she understood now— the reason behind Alistair’s strange behavior since Redcliffe, his outburst. She recalled fragments of tales Alistair had shared about his childhood, his relationship with Arl Eamon.

Alistair was abandoned by Eamon at a Chantry for Templar education at the age of ten. He lashed out at Eamon back then, refusing to speak with him during the Arl's infrequent visits. Eventually, Eamon had stopped coming altogether.

It was clear that Alistair still harbored guilt and shame over his outburst towards Eamon when he was a child. Alistair, the lonely boy told all his life he was an inconvenience, still criticized himself over his natural and justified response to being sent away. 

Their return to Redcliffe had not merely resurfaced his old wounds; with Isolde's death, it had made them bleed anew.

The fight went out of Neria as quickly as it came. She could forget her pride if only towards a man so amiable as Alistair. Drawing in a deep breath, she readied herself to respond. Her mind raced to figure out what to say.

"Alistair, I... I had no choice in becoming a Grey Warden," Neria began delicately,  "To be fair, it was either joining the Wardens or facing the consequences the Templars had in store for me after aiding in Jowan's escape. I will forever be grateful that Duncan was there and willing to conscript me, saving me from my mistakes. I may never understand what he saw in me, but... I will forever be grateful."

I sound so foolish, Neria thought. She sensed Alistair's confusion, his uncertainty at her sudden change in tone and direction. She averted her gaze, noticing her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her cloak. She interlaced her hands in her lap and continued, her eyes fixed upon the ground.

“What I mean to say is that I did not choose to be a Grey Warden, but I will do my best. I did not want to make the decision on whether to sacrifice Isolde, but at that moment, I saw no other viable option." 

Memories of Redcliffe clawed their way back into Neria's consciousness: the looming stone walls of the castle’s audience chamber, blood coursing from flesh to stone, absorbed by an ornately woven carpet. She could feel her emotions tightening her throat as she continued. 

"Lady Isolde's sacrifice weighs heavily upon my heart, and I understand your anger regarding my decision, I do. Yet, in that moment, you have to understand, I had to weigh the lives of an entire village against the life of a single woman."

As she paused, Neria felt tears welling at the corners of her eyes. Embarrassed, she brushed them away, hoping they went unnoticed. She knew Alistair was looking at her now, truly looking at her. He was smart enough to see through her words, to understand that she was not only trying to convince him but also herself.

"It's difficult to accept, I know, but as Grey Wardens, we will forever be confronted with impossible decisions—decisions which I now am coming to understand define our order. That is the burden we must bear it seems."

By the time she looked up again, Alistair's anger had faded away, giving way to a weariness mirroring her own. He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I understand, Neria. It's just... witnessing Isolde willingly offer herself in that ritual, and knowing our part in it…" 

Alistair looked at her, his eyes searching.

"Maybe you’re right. Maybe it's just that, I find myself looking for a clear path, a definitive right and wrong. But the world isn't that simple, is it?” he admitted. "Still…  I don't want to lose myself amidst all of this. I refuse to become like Loghain or, well, anyone who willingly resorts to blood magic."

A brief pause lingered as Alistair studied Neria. His tone softened, and a faint trace of a self-deprecating smile played on his lips.

"Perhaps I shouldn't be so quick to question your decisions," he conceded. "It's easy to judge when you're not the one making the choices... and I've let you bear that burden alone, haven't I? I apologize for pestering you about it. You did what you had to do. Let's put this conversation to rest before I make a bigger fool of myself and put my foot in my mouth even more."

With those words, Alistair bowed and murmured a quick goodnight before walking toward the crackling flames of the campfire, leaving Neria to the company of her thoughts. The wind, a gentle whisper, swirled around her, and teased the edges of her cloak.

-----

As dusk fell on the following day and the customary chaos of establishing camp subsided, in the quiet between travel and sleep, Alistair extended to Neria a single rose.

“Do you know what this is?”

[felassan]

A few more snippets of interest and insight from Mark Darrah, from an older Mark Darrah on Games YouTube video where he was livestreaming playing Dragon Age: Origins some months ago -

Chat asked "What characters do you hope to see return in future stories?". Mark replied, "I don't know about characters I wanna see coming back. I know too much about DA:D to really get into that conversation."

Alistair is "super quantum".

[source]

He also talked more generally about DA:O and the franchise and things in general. These bits are collected under a cut due to length -

"I feel like it would be a little bit more plausible in DA:O if one of the factions you recruit was like 'oh you got the Treaties? Okay, great, here we go'. We could've maybe added another one who could have just come to your aid without you having to fix their problems for them. The Avvar would have been a great choice because that would have let us get the [cut] Avvar content back there a little bit. They could've just been like 'yep, we're ready, let's go' and it would have been a little half hour plot. Maybe you could even have put in a little level that was repurposed from the Korcari Wilds. Oh well, my time machine is broken"

"The problem with the crashing [in DA:O] is that it's a 32-bit game so it can only use 2 gig of memory and at the higher resolutions and settings it uses more and then it slowly leaks enough memory to crash, but there's a mod that pushes it outside of the 2 gig"

Chat asked "Is there a voice actor who is great to work with?". Mark said "Freddie Prinze Jr. was probably the best, he was very active in talking about the game and he was really good to work with. Obviously a bit more expensive than other VAs"

"The problem with the art style for DA:O is, not that it's bad, I mean there's graphical problems, it's more that it doesn't have much of a distinctive look, so it just blends into everything from the same time period. If you look at The Witcher at the same time it pretty much looks exactly the same. So DAII is trying to look like something. DA:I both looks like something like DAII but also has the graphical horsepower to look good, as opposed to DAII which looks like something but the engine is kind've letting it down"

"We've never really managed to get it so that you can hold a space [in combat] very well, DA:I is probably the one we did that the best in and even still..." "The Battle for Redcliffe encounter is so hard basically because you don't have control of the space"

"The problem with healing in DA:O is basically every single combat encounter needs to be a deadly challenge on its own because you're at full health after every single combat, so yeah, there is too much healing in this game"

"The fact that you never get to play with Skyhold is definitely a miss in DA:I, there's no denying that"

"DA:O is definitely balanced very hard"

"When Mike [Laidlaw] and I came onto the DA franchise we were working on DAII and a lot of that original stuff is a lot more like DA:I than it is like DAII for sure. But it was more ambitious than was possible in the time that was available"

Chat asked "Was there any thought on letting the player choose which sibling would survive in DAII?" Mark said "No, in DAII the intention was always that 1 mage survive"

On stat allocation in DA:I: "It's not so much about building overpowered builds, because you can certainly do that in DA:I if you engage in crafting, you can build a rogue with guard-generating daggers and basically be completely indestructible. It's more the opposite, it's more about putting things into places where they're unbeneficial. I don't know that it was the right call. I think given how opaque the crafting system was the nod to ease of use of getting rid of stat allocation, those two things don't really mesh, doesn't make a ton of sense that we have one of the most hard to understand crafting systems and no stat allocations. Should have really picked a lane on that I'd say"

[source]

(pls note that in places there is a bit of paraphrasing of the info, the best source is always the primary source with full quotes in their original context)

[theluckywizard]

In the Shattering of Things, Ch. 51: Riding Away from it All

Summary: Mired in ruminations, Rose hits the road to Crestwood with her companions, who, aware that some manner of romantic catastrophe has occurred, do their very best to distract her. On their way, Rose encounters her first rift since she left Redcliffe Castle and must face whether the anchor will continue to remain stable. Fic Summary: Lady Rose Trevelyan's idle, aristocratic life blinks out in a haze of irrelevance when the breach destroys the Conclave. She may be soft and coddled when she joins the Inquisition, but there's a fierceness inside her she's yet to fully recognize. Armed with only a few relevant skills and the mark that makes her a legend, she is thrust onto a path delivering hope where it’s long been scorched away and finds comfort in the grumpy, handsome stick in the mud charged with her protection and training. As she stumbles her way across southern Thedas, she begins to realize she's tangled at the center of machinations she barely understands, and she's not alone in that. Enter Hawke. Excerpt:

The battle ends so abruptly that I wander around the field bewildered, looking for targets that have tucked themselves away. With a full complement of companions and the addition of Hawke, the demons are vanquished before I’ve gone through a quarter of my quiver.

But I was never really worried about the demons.

The tear in the veil is unusually low to the ground, so low that I find myself staring into the cloudy green depths wondering what lies beyond, wondering whether another demon will climb out. The anchor feels alive, humming in anticipation as I will myself toward it, flanked closely by Blackwall and Cassandra in case of further company. But I can’t bring myself to open the anchor and connect, instead, sinking to my knees on the ground beneath it and scrubbing my hands over my face. My fear compresses the moment and dulls my thoughts to a murmur. Or perhaps it’s just the sound of my companions talking in the background.

“Anytime now, Roses,” calls Sera. I hear a smack and an ‘ow’ somewhere behind me.

The sudden hand at my shoulder and then another on my forearm feels like Cullen for a fleeting moment. Pulling me back from panic, pulling me into the present. But it’s Solas crouching beside me, reminding me of how much I’ve accomplished and how the closure of the Breach has surely calmed the outsized reactions to rifts.

“I can feel the rift in the scars. Buzzing,” I lament. “I know it’s going to hurt.”

“But it may not,” he says, his voice as even as ever. “We’ll all be right here for you, Inquisitor. You discharged the anchor this morning, yes?”

I had. Cassandra and I had slipped out of camp when only the mess crew was up, and had searched for the most lifeless portion of surrounding forest to open the rift. My guilt over the birds and rodents that were swept into it still festers hours later.

“There’s no point in dilly dallying,” I conclude, rising to my feet and gazing up into the green. “If it’s going to hurt, it doesn’t matter if it’s now or later.” I glance behind me at my companions, all of whom stare back at me with furrowed brows and shift on their feet.

Will it tear me asunder, the scars along my arms like cracks before a collapse?

But then, I’ve been a breath away from death so many times already. What’s one more?

I pull my glove off and raise my hand, pushing the anchor open the way I’d learn to and it seizes me, jostling me as the tether between it and myself pulls taut. The marks on my hand illuminate like a pathway for the anchor's energy. I will the process along and glance to my left to assess the expressions of my friends. Cassandra’s stricken face tells me enough.

The entire length of the scar-like streaks must be glowing.

Read the rest here!

Start from the Beginning

Tagging DAFF Crew:

@warpedlegacy | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @effelants | @bluewren | @breninarthur | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @dreadfutures | @ir0n-angel | @inquisimer | @crackinglamb | @nirikeehan | @oxygenforthewicked | @mogwaei | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @melisusthewee | @blarrghe | @agentkatie

[random-content-from-4by22]

Recovery pt1

Synopsis: after a grueling battle and the last foe was down, everyone caught their breath. They didn't anticipate that the warden would fall, their weapon clattering to the ground with little to no energy to put it away, like sand falling through their fingers. The last request the warden made before losing consciousness were; "I just want to be held while i recover."

warnings and mentions: based off of my gameplay of DAO currently. Mage warden. They/them warden. Not exactly read over for errors so sorry if their is some Grammer errors. Mentions of deaths of thousands. Not sure what other warnings apply.

Alistair - hope and prayer.

Alistair had dealt with so much. Being sent to the chantry by the arlessa, templar training, being recruited into the Grey Wardens and dealing with the effects that came with it, losing those wardens who started to feel like kin in the battle Loghain had stepped back from, including Duncan. But Maker has he never felt this much anxiety and fear gripping at his very flesh and being as he cradles his unconscious friend's face.

'They look so fragile like this.' he thought to himself with a spike of fear piercing his heart. His hands were shaking. He didn't want to be shaking. Not when he feared the person he cared so much about would lose their pulse if he did not remain composed.

'Please not them. Please. Anything but them. I'd do anything, just please live.'

He tried taking deep breaths, counting from 4 with each inhale through his mouth and exhale out his nose. Something the warden had told him about doing whenever they were stressed back at Redcliffe and while he was seperated from Sten, Leliana and Wynne in the fade.

'They will be fine.' He told himself, willing the slight tremble in his hands to cease with every breath he took.

'Wynne said they would be fine. They have to be fine.'

It was the second time he realised just how much value the warden held to him. Just how much he cared, like when he worried about them not surviving their wounds when the two were rescued and taken to Flemeth's hut. Only this time, he wasn't dealing with the abundance of grief Loghain's actions had caused, the pain having become smaller for the time being. And this time, he knew the warden more now, like the kin he had found and lost. They weren't just the new recruit anymore, they were his leader, his friend, his close companion. The thought and the breathing exercise helped to calm his mind, but there was still an inkling of doubt and worry in his mind as he thought back, to so many moments the warden managed to create, even if its only been, what, 3-4 weeks? Or maybe it was months. They never really took track of time.

He lowered his forehead to theirs, hands now stilled, devoid of gloves and feeling the texture of the warden's skin. His movements were careful, some part of himself treating this as if the warden was merely sleeping instead of having been unconscious for 3 days already. He closed his eyes, and began to pray. Whispering prayers to the Maker and Andrastate for a swift recovery, his thumb every now and again caressing the warden's cheek as he prayed.

"You're going to be okay. I promise."

[tired-truffle]

Yet Broken Still You Breathe

An AlistairxOriginal Character Fic

Word Count: 3.6k

Part 1/40

Summary: - 'I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break.' - Mary Hornbacher

Gwen had spent so long on her own, distanced from the world behind a mask of her own making, that when he smiled at her like she hung the moon and the stars, she thought she would be blinded by the need that coursed through her rotten veins. She was not a creature that deserved love, but by the Maker did she need Alistair like she needed the air in her tired lungs.

Masterlist

“It takes a special kind of person to hide away in an abandoned hovel instead of help fight to save the town that one is currently residing in.” Gwen could barely conceal the anger rolling in her tone like the sound of distant thunder, the dark blue bandana covering from her oddly flat nose down to her neck shielding the dwarf from the full effect of her fury. Yet, from the look of shocked outrage wrinkling the skin of his large forehead, he at least seemed to understand what she was implying. “I thought dwarves were supposed to be brave and strong,” she continued, “but all I see is a whiny coward who is far past his golden days.”

The dwarf’s chair creaked against the wooden floor as he stood up in a rush, apoplectic and red in the face, “You know nothing of me, girl, I have fought my battles, you cannot cow me into joining human militia,” he spat the words like they were dirt on his tongue, “I may as well string myself up and lather my body in butter for those beasts to snack on, all the good that’ll do me.”

Gwen crossed her arms over her chest, the muscles in her jaw twitching with irritation. She was finding it increasingly difficult to think as that ever-present whisper shivered down her spine, drifting through her in a way that threatened to consume her carefully balanced poise and turn her into the feral creature she knew lurked underneath. She’d come all this way, fought night after night against the undead raiding this town like a plague, and this is what she got? A cowardly dwarf who refused to help in a fight?

When she’d first heard that there was a veteran dwarf holed up in this tiny room off the town centre of Redcliffe, she’d figured it couldn’t be that hard to convince him to join up.

She should have known than to underestimate a dwarf’s stubbornness.

Gwen placed her hands on the table between them, leaning forward so she towered over his seated form, “If you do not join the militia, I will ensure that it is not for lack of will, but for lack of physical capability,” she snarled, her lips curling back under the blue fabric. Dwyn froze, all that righteous indignation falling from his face as his eyes flickered downwards to where the dark blue fabric rested against her starkly pale skin.

Gwen's usually calm composure transformed, her anger pulsing through her body and emanating off of her like a dark aura. As she towered over the dwarf in front of her, his eyes darted around nervously, searching for an escape. The air around them felt charged with fear as Gwen leaned closer.

“What are you?” Dwyn's eyes narrowed as he looked at Gwen with suspicion and distaste, taking in the blueish hue of her flesh and the unnatural wispy grey of her eyes. His gaze lingered on the bandana for a moment, a subtle sign of his fear and uncertainty.

Gwen cocked her head to the side, her voice cold enough to send chills running down the dwarf’s spine, “Would you like to find out?”

Dwyn, realizing this line of questioning was not going to get him anywhere pleasant, shook his head, “I know a freak when I see one, you don’t gotta tell me twice,” he grumbled at her, picking up his axe from where it rested against the floor, the metal scraping against the wood of the floor.

Gwen stood tall, her shoulders squared and chin lifted in defiance, giving no indication that his name-calling hurt her, and in truth, it didn’t, not in any way that mattered. She’d heard it from people for her entire life - freak, monster, demon - and she’d learned that it only ever genuinely hurt when it came from those she cared about. And she didn’t have anyone she cared about anymore, so she was immune to such petty name-calling. At least until she would crawl into bed, her blood stinging as it ran through veins not made to carry its toxicity, the familiar names echoing in her mind like screams into a canyon, adding to the constant clamour that plagued her every night.

The rustling of fabric and shifting of items could be heard as Dwyn adjusted his pack, the heavy clanking of metal objects and creaking of leather indicative of the weight he carried. His footsteps were quick and hurried as he tried to make a swift exit, avoiding Gwen’s intense stare that she shot like daggers against his skin. A door creaked open and stayed that way as a gust of wind slammed it into the outside wall. The room fell quiet once again, with only the lingering echoes of Gwen's heavy exhale breaking the stillness.

Despite being skilled at intimidating others, it was a role that she despised. She had spent years perfecting the art of appearing non-threatening, constantly walking on eggshells to avoid provoking anyone, while at the same time unnerving others enough with her blank stares and tense posture - as though she was ready to strike at any moment - that they left her alone. She knew the consequences of revealing her true self, and she had no desire to relive those moments of her life, they were best buried in the past.

“Huh, I thought we’d have to do all that hard work ourselves but it looks like someone beat us to it.” The voice was a rich, warm timbre that rumbled from the depths of the speaker's chest. It was confident and bold, yet playful and mischievous, adding a touch of humour to the tense atmosphere. Despite its deepness, the voice carried easily, demanding the attention of anyone within earshot “It’s too bad, I was kind of hoping to try my hand at scaring the breeches off a dwarf.”

Gwen, who had been so lost in her thoughts, and that horrible, whispering voice that bounced around the base of her skull - too quiet to make out the words, but just loud enough to be impossible to ignore - she hadn’t heard the stranger’s approach. As she whirled around, her eyes wide with panic, she realized she had not only missed the speaker’s approach but that of his two companions and Mabari hound as well.

Shit, they’d startled her and she’d been so wrapped up in her own head she had forgotten to put on her mildly intimidating act.

Unsafe, unsafe, unsafe, her brain repeated to herself. Unhelpful, she wanted to add.

She crossed her arms over her chest, scowling under her bandana in an attempt to look less like a nug that had been caught outside its burrow. She focused on the elf leading the group who stands tall and willowy but proud. His features were sharp and defined, with piercing dark eyes that seemed as endless as the night sky. His chiselled jawline gave him the air of confidence and arrogance though it was softened by his expertly styled hair that cascaded back in loose burnished-brown curls that hugged the nap of his neck. The sassy smirk he wore on his lips that showed off the dimples of his cheeks made it clear he knew how attractive he was.

Gwen held back an eye-roll, but the handsome elf’s companion, a dark-haired mage judging by the wooden staff strapped to her back, who was beautiful in an I’ll-kill-you-with-one-withering-stare-and-a-cutting-remark kind of way, held no such reservations. She’d never seen an eye-roll of such high calibre sass, but she couldn’t help but feel a certain kinship with the woman, one she was sure would not be reciprocated.

“You could not ‘scare the breeches’ off of a blushing maiden, Darcy,” the woman spoke in a mocking tone, her accent posh and refined, “let alone a washed-up soldier, dwarf or otherwise.”

Gwen would have to agree, he was much too slight to scare anyone, and his light leather armor did little to invoke the image of a powerful warrior. His beauty was a delicate sort, his cheekbones may have been as sharp as crystalline glass, but they would shatter all the same.

The man, Darcy - as the woman had called him -, feigned a deep and horrid pain, clutching at his chest dramatically, “You wound me, Morrigan, and in front of our new friend too. Do you never tire of mocking me?”

“When you no longer provide fuel for my mocking, I will consider relenting.”

The Mabari barked his agreement.

“Traitor.” Darcy hissed, scowling down at the short-furred beast, its tongue lolling happily out of its mouth.

“Right.” Gwen kept her arms loose but prepared to strike, they did not yet seem to be a threat, but she had learned long ago to never trust first appearances, “What do you want?”

Darcy opened his hands in a gesture meant to appease her, “I appreciate a woman who is straight to the point. Murdock told us all about the masked stranger who’d been helping them fight back the undead hoards that have been descending upon their good city and we’ve completed all the other tasks he’d given to you. Well, save for Dwyn, but it seems you have that one handled.” Darcy smirked at her.

Gwen eyed the strangers, looking at the last companion she had yet to hear speak up. The man’s strawberry blond hair was kept short to his head except for a little more length in the front that stuck up a bit, little whisps trailed down over his forehead as though the hair disagreed with this arrangement and wished it to be known. His strong chin was dusted with a light goatee, and his sturdy warrior’s frame towered over his smaller friends. He stood behind them, but as his warm brown eyes met hers, she wondered why he let the much smaller two lead. It was a scene of unexpected camaraderie, a trio of unlikely companions united under a common purpose. The small dogs, full of tenacity and spirit, were determined to lead the larger one, who seemed content to follow along as long as he was a part of the group. The dynamics between them were as colourful and intriguing as a patchwork quilt, each unique in their own way yet working together despite the snags they may encounter.

Since he had been behind the other two, Gwen hadn’t noticed the symbol covering his breastplate, yet when he shifted and the light reflected off the polished metal as he stepped into her view, eager to be a part of the conversation, her heart sunk. It felt like some cosmic joke, right as she was headed on the path to find the answers she’d sought her entire life, that familiar Griffon she’d spent the last eight years avoiding was now staring her in the face, cornering her in this tiny room.

Of course, it was just her luck that she’d be face to face with a Grey Warden, though she knew it was only a matter of time until she found one amidst the Blight, she’d hoped it would be after she’d come into contact with Darkspawn. She should have kept that hope secret, lest the Gods find it and tear it to shreds along with the rest of everything else she tried to grasp.

Gwen tore her panicked gaze from him, content to ignore him until he gave her a reason not to. Her hands itched for her daggers, but until he showed signs that he meant to harm her, she would not give him any reason to. She had no way of knowing how he’d react to her, but she would ensure she did not meet her end when she was so close to getting the answers she’d wanted her entire Maker-forsaken life.

“Thank you?” Gwen wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or if Darcy was actually upset that she had stolen this piece of glory from him.

Darcy’s smirk widened and she wasn’t sure she liked where this was heading, but was powerless to stop it lest she provoke his ire, “What brings you to Redcliffe…?” He trailed off, his heavy-lidded eyes - a hint of amusement hiding in the darkness - awaited her reply as he leaned forward, intent in his stance.

Gwen’s gaze drifted into a vacant stare as she processed the question, “Gwen.” She supplied when it clicked - embarrassingly late - what he was asking for. She glanced back to the Grey Warden but saw no recognition in his eyes, only a curious expression as he watched this conversation play out. Good, she had worked hard to keep her name out of blabbering mouths, it would do her no good to hide her face if everyone recognized her by name alone.

“Gwen,” Darcy said the name appraisingly and nodded his approval, “what brings you to Redcliffe? Haven’t you heard that the Archdemon’s army marches this way?””

Gwen hesitated, she couldn’t tell them the truth, at least not the whole truth, but she couldn’t come up with a good enough lie that would explain why she wasn’t running away, “Yes, I ‘d heard.”

“And you’re willingly travelling towards it?” The tall Grey Warden spoke for the first time since they’d cornered her in this room. His smooth voice carried a Ferelden accent, a lightness to it as if he was constantly on the verge of laughter. The way he spoke was playful yet confident, teasing but never cruel. Gwen’s eyes flicker to him and then back to where Darcy stands, a hand on his cocked hip and that smirk still resting on his perfectly arched lips.

Gwen shifted her gaze nervously, unable to maintain a steady level of eye contact. She didn't want the Grey Warden to feel intimidated by her intense gaze, so she forced herself to glance away. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of his full lips pulled downwards into a pout, a rather put-out look on his face.

“Yes.” She answered simply, “Where there is war there is work.”

Darcy laughed, melodic and loud as it echoed in the small space, “And it seems like our work just so happens to line up at the moment,” Darcy took a few steps forward and held out his hand. Gwen had to resist every instinct to put space between them, but if he noticed her freeze up, he did not let on. Underneath all that charm was a cunning mind and she was reticent to trust him based on his word alone. Yet, she couldn’t risk upsetting him either, “So what do you say, Gwen, how about we work together to kill some undead, and then if you are as good as Murdock claims, you can come with us to stop the Archdemon before it destroys Ferelden forever. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of work along the way.”

Gwen balked, “You’re going to stop the Archdemon?” She glanced over at the Grey Warden again, were there more of them waiting outside?

“That or die trying, and the odds of our bloody deaths increase every day!” He quipped, much too cheery for such a foreboding statement. “And we’d be all that much safer if we had a mysterious figure such as yourself to help scare off some of our enemies. I must say there is something about you that is deeply unsettling.” Darcy added, jiggling his hand to remind her he was still waiting before sincerity caused his tone to lower, “We could really use someone like you.”

Gwen’s heart twisted in her chest, uncomfortable feelings swirling through her stomach, like a swarm of angry bees. They wanted her, just like that? No need to prove herself, no demands to reveal her face… There had to be some trick there, no one wanted the off-putting stranger who refused to show her face around unless they were desperate. Though perhaps no other Wardens were waiting for them outside which would stand to reason that they could, in fact, be rather desperate for willing participants in their fight. And Darcy did make a fair point; she was trying to help Redcliffe and so were they. If she agreed to accompany them for this battle, she could determine their true intent and decide if it was worth joining them or shaking them at the first available opportunity. They had to sleep sometime and escaping into the night was a specialty of hers.

Gwen clasped her hand in his and gave him a firm shake, his grin growing and Gwen already regretted agreeing to this. She looked to the woman - Morrigan, Darcy had called her - who looked as though she’d eaten a batch of sour grapes. If Darcy could convince such a sullen woman to be a part of his group, she likely did not stand a chance, better to agree early and part ways when he wasn’t looking. The Grey Warden piece was a complication that lurked like a shadow in the darkness, a blade waiting to strike, but it wouldn’t be the first time she had lived on alert at all times. She could handle it for the time being, given that they all lived through the upcoming onslaught of undead creatures, of course.

“Your penchant for adopting strays shall spell our doom,” Morrigan muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Dramatic as ever, Morrigan,” The Grey Warden teased, and the death glare he earned had Gwen surprised he wasn’t reduced to cinder right then and there, “I, for one am happy to welcome you to our humble little party.” He beamed at her, his smile lopsided and boyish, and even though she was still wary of him, it warmed a small piece of her that he seemed to genuinely mean it. “I’m Alistair, by the way, since everyone else has already had the chance to introduce themselves.”

Alistair bounced with nervous energy about him when he spoke that had Gwen eyeing him warily like he was an over-excitable pup ready to jump on her and begin licking her face with abandon. Maker, she needed to stop thinking about him like a dog or she would never be able to resist anything he asked of her.

A loud bark reminded Gwen that they had a real dog among their group, strays indeed.

“Oh, and this is Barkspawn.” Alistair gestured to the Mabari, covered in war paint, who sat on his haunches, an air of pride swirling around him. Gwen coughed to cover a startled laugh, Barkspawn? Had they named their dog with a blight-based pun? Maybe she didn’t have to fear them as much as she had originally thought, but rather whatever chaotic situations they were no doubt to pull her into.

Morrigan made a disgusted sound, her painted lips twisted with a sneer. Gwen was sure she was going to be hearing that sound from her a lot in the upcoming time spent together. “Yes, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Morrigan’s tone dripped with sarcasm and haughty disdain, “But we must end this ceaseless prattle, lest we squander more time in our preparations than we already have. Our true objective is to defeat the Archdemon and we cannot do so when we are preoccupied with saving this town from suffering the consequences of their own mistakes.”

“For the hundredth time, oh witchy one,” Alistair’s dry tone lent his words a grating sort of touch, “We can’t just leave these people to die, and we need Arl Eamon’s help to-“

“If I wanted to listen to your whining, Alistair, I would have simply listened to the mutt’s whimpering, at least that is more pleasant to the ears.” Morrigan cut him off with biting words.

Darcy’s laugh stopped Alistair from releasing whatever scathing remark was poised at the tip of his tongue, “Welcome to the team, Gwen, you’re going to love it here.”

That remained to be seen, but at least if the witch could distract the Grey Warden’s disdain from her, maybe she could at least survive the night.

Next Chapter

A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read my fic <3

I will be posting minimum once a week, but my last fic I posted almost daily sooooo we will see!

No warnings for this chapter but all future warnings will be posted in the beginning notes.

I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments and they keep me writing faster :)

Art of Gwen for anyone interested :)