#I think with Dwarves they would mainly refuse when he asked them if they wanted a part in Noldolante

[victorie552]

Ok, so Noldolantë, "The Fall of the Noldor" is a lament composed by Maglor about what happened before, during and after First Kinslaying at Alqualondë. It's such a good song that it's played regularly in Aman and Valar listen to it often (I swear, I swear it was in the Silmarillion I just can't find it now).

It's also a more or less common fanon that Maglor continues writing Noldolante through the whole First Age. Makes sense - it's about fall of the Noldor, and Noldor did a lot of falling back then.

Headcannon time: So my first thought was that Noldolante must a long, long, long epic of a song. So it probably has many parts, right? Iliad has 24 books/parts, somehow I think Noldolante would be at least just as long, and there are longer epics. And again, just like Iliad, unless you're a scholar, in the daily life you don't really listen to/read the whole thing, just reread and repeat the most dramatic fragments. What I'm trying to impress upon you all is that the story would have different segments, or chapters, if you will.

And if Maglor continues to write the story during the FA, there would absolutely be a moment in the lament where the OG Noldolante becomes Noldolante 2, and even Noldolante 3. There may be the same musical motif or something, I decided that Maglor IS that good of a bard to keep it all consistent enough so you know it's all the same story, but the style changes a lot - it's been 400 years in the making, let The Music Elf have fun!

So, Point 1: Many, Many Parts, basically Maglor's FA WIP

My second thought was that, while Feanor invented his alphabet, elves learned their history mostly through oral tradition aka songs and spoken stories. Noldolante is definitely a historical record, where a historical event was archived for future generations.

(It was a also a way to deal with grief, guilt and blame Maglor and all Noldor have faced regarding First Kinslaying - free therapy! But that's not what this post is about)

Archived.

My 2.5 thought was that Noldolante isn't just recallings of how pretty and horrified the beach looked during the murdering or how mad and sorrowful the sea was at everyone during the voyage or even how awesome and charismatic Feanor looked during his speeches that every single Noldo was ready to fight Morgoth barehanded in his name - no, this is a record of who killed who, who got killed by whom, and how.

Noldor and Teleri knew each other (were friends, even!) before the First Kinslaying, so I'm confident that after a lot of interviews, detective work, and cross-referencing, Maglor could and would create a very good... name list. Practically every Noldo and Teler present during First Kinslaying would get a stanza in a song, more if he killed someone, most if he killed many people. Killers and killed would show up twice, first in a fragment listing the killers and their victims, then in a part listing the victims and their murderers. Basically it's the same thing twice, but from different POVs. With when, where and how included.

(It was seen to be in bad taste to compare kills during Maglor's Regency, when most of his interview-part work happened. People did it anyway. There were a Saddest Kill, Funniest Kill, and Weirdest Kill discusions. There was a Tier List. These were weird times to be a Feanorian Noldo.)

(It WAS in Bad Taste, but at least people talked about it. I cannot stress enough how much free therapy this lament provided)

(Little did they know, when Teleri started getting reembodied in Aman, they had very similar discussions, but more in a "I can't believe he killed me like THAT" way. Long, long, long after the First Age. Noldolante is a gift that keeps giving)

So, Maglor had all the historical grith and no common shame to create a "We Killed All These People And We Feel Bad About It" banger of a song, and every Noldo had a very personal reason to at least remember the fragments they are in. It's a hit on a scale never seen before.

(I'm not sure how to tackle the issue of Nolofinweans and Arafinweans learning about Noldolante after crossing the Ice. But there were discussions. There was anger, there was "????", there was controversy. Basically, the song got bigger and bigger rep no matter what your opinion on it was. By the time of Mereth Aderthad it was an important cultural and political piece and at least Fingon's forces were included in the main song. It had parodies.)

Point 2: Archive Function/Kill count storage. Cultural phenomen, every Noldo included

This is where my personal nonsense begins: Main Noldolante was done, there was nothing more to say about First Kinslaying, all killings and deaths were well documented.

But the Siege started. And the Noldor kept dying.

It was less dramatic than it sounded - between the big battles the siege was maintained, but orc raids also happened and sometimes one to few Noldor died in skirmishes. The legal procedure was to document the death of a fellow elf and send a word to king Fingolfin. The cultural procedure, technically started by Feranorians but adapted by many more, was to send the name, common characteristics and cause of death to Maglor's Gap. After few months, King Fingolfin would send reinforcements, short condolences and financial compensation if they had family. After few months, family of an elf would also receive a personal lament for them and a place for them in a Noldolante.

Yes, every lament Maglor created in that time was technically part of the Noldolante. Noldolante 1.5, if you will. Laments make in that time were very customized, and simpler than Noldolante Main, but were still considered a part of the same song. Of course, nobody was expected to know and remember laments for every single Noldo, younger Noldor born in Beleriand could even only know fragments about their family members. Only Maglor would ever know Noldolante in full, but it was understood that everyone had their place in The Song.

The results of Great Battles were harder to document, but Maglor did that. Of course, Dagor Bragollach was hard on him personally, but he worked his way through.

(High King Fingon forbade creating laments for his father. There were no songs for Fingolfin. Apart from in Noldolante, of course. Of course. Maglor did not share the lament with anyone, but he sat long hours and many nights with a blank paper before him, looking at the candle flame and thinking of the past and the future. The song unsung, but there)

Nirnaeth was... Maglor was never more hated and more approached at the same time than then. Still, Noldolante grew and grew, as if people knew the end was near.

It was Second Kinslaying that destroyed the myth of Maglor's song. Feanorians didn't know the Sindar they killed, but surely, they couldn't just left their names unmentioned like they did with orcs? So, Noldor talked, but the battle happened in caves - it wasn't uncommon to find dead bodies in empty rooms, with no witnesses to what happened. Surviving Sindar didn't want to share any names, even when Maglor strong-armed some into talking with him, and good for them. Maglor made a big lament anyway. Maglor, wild, with no shame and dead brothers, with legacy crumbling around him. Noldolante, with holes.

After Third Kinslaying, Noldor didn't want to talk. Lament for Sirion didn't have any names. Clearly, songs weren't a way to go anymore, it was always about live witnesses. And so Maglor raised the twins.

Lament for Maedhros was sung repeatedly. There was no one to hear it.

Point 3: Only Maglor knows Noldolante in full. But that doesn't matter, because everyone knows the important part: the Noldolante is finished. The Star of Hope rises in the West and the story goes on. The Fall has ended.

[kibleedibleedoo]

Hero of your own fate

Chapter 10

A.N. - I got really into the lore while writing this chapter so I thought it would be interesting to talk about it with the dwarves. Plus how else am I supposed to tell Fili and Kili about guns 

Word count - 2,223

Pairings - Thorin x Fem!Reader

Warnings - war, death, mental illness, self doubt

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-Your POV-

It was a few hours before you decided to return to the company. Thorin made good on his word everyone was dressed in their proper attire and the troublesome two were on their best behaviour. He gave a gentle nod in your direction causing a fresh wave of red to flush your face. Kili looked like he was going to say something but was rather aggressively elbowed by Dwalin before a single syllable left his lips.  

“Did ye find anything good to read in the library lass?” Dwalin asked as you took your place on your bedroll. He was looking for a way to keep conversation away from what happened earlier.

“Not really most of it was in Sindarin which isn't really helpful when you’ve only heard a few words spoken.” You shrugged.  

“Typical elves.” Fili grumbled causing the rest of the dwarves to mumble in agreement. Bifur took this moment to pass you a plate of something.  

“Ablâg” he gestured moving his hand to his mouth. The plate was full of a collection of meats and cheeses and some bread. The food had gone quite cold but you didn’t mind. Apparently, the elves had delivered food to the company instead of summoning you all to dine together while you were away.  

“Thank you, Bifur.” You smiled at the friendly dwarf. “Lord Elrond was kind enough to teach me some of his history when he found me staring at one of the murals. It just seems so amazing that you have confirmation of your creators and nobody thought to tell me Gandalf is a lesser-god.” At this the company looked at you confused. Every single one of them. It felt like their eyes were staring into your soul. “Did you lot not know he was a Miar?” It took a few moments before anyone responded.  

“Aye. That we knew” Gloin finally chimed in. “What do you mean confirmation of our creators?”  

“Lord Elrond said that Eru created elves and men, one awakening with the stars and the other when the sun was created. He also said that Dwarves were created by Aulë and you slumbered deep underground until after the Elves awakened during the age of stars. He also said that these Valar live in the Undying Lands and something about the elves being able to cross the sea to reach Valinor.” Not a single member of the company had looked in another direction since you began speaking. Even Bombur had stopped chewing whatever he was eating at that particular moment. Anxiety hit you like a ton of bricks. You had started so confident but now it felt like you were talking nonsense. “I think that’s what he said.”

“Lass did your parents not teach you this when you were little?” Bofur spluttered out, tack never had been his strong suit. Gandalf took this moment to finally interrupt the conversation with his arrival. He had an uncanny knack for interrupting conversations precisely when they needed him.  

“It would have been hard for them to seeing as they wouldn’t know it themselves” Gandalf cut in. “Our y/n is not of our world master dwarf. She comes from a land very different from this one. A world untouched by Eru himself. A world without great evil but full of selfishness and greed.”  

“But who made you and your kin?” Fili directed the questioning back to you. There was a hum of agreement from all of the dwarves except Thorin, who once again refused to look in your direction. You glanced at Gandalf for more help but the wizard had already made himself comfy puffing away on his pipe.  

“Well, we don’t really know.” Everyone seemed thoroughly dissatisfied by that answer. “We have theories and dozens of religions but mainly people decide based on the information available, what aligns with their moral compass as well as how and where they were raised. It varies from person to person especially in the modern era where science tells us more about our past than ever before and people are less likely to be persecuted for their beliefs.” That answer seemed to satisfy the majority of the company.  

A select few wanted to know more. Fili, Kili, Ori, Bofur, Oin, and Bilbo all got up to sit near you to find out more. Ori brought his book and wanted to write everything you said down, it almost seemed like a fantasy story to him. Oin wanted to know everything about the scientific advancements especially in terms of medical treatments. Not that you were very knowledgeable in that subject but you knew some basic first aid which you told him. He was very happy to hear that and quickly recruited you to be an apprentice healer for the company. To you that meant so much, you were no longer useless, you had a purpose on this quest. Maybe Thorin wouldn’t consider you a burden anymore. The others mainly enjoyed hearing stories from another world especially the technology.  

-Thorin’s POV-  

The moment Gandalf had said “untouched by Eru” Thorin’s heart dropped. If your existence was not influenced by one of the creators then there is no way Mahal could have made you Thorin’s one. It would be impossible. Yet Thorin couldn’t deny the way he felt about you. It was nothing like he had ever experienced before. I was like there was a physical tie attaching the two of you. He dreamt of your beauty. He wanted to be close by at all times, to share in your happiness. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe and healthy. He wanted you to want him. No, it wasn’t a want it was a need for those things. He felt the same way that Dis had mentioned feeling when she first met Vili. He was so sure that you were his one that he would have bet all of the gold in Erebor on it and yet here he was.  

Every mention of your world stung. He hoped the quiet chatter would drown it out, take his mind away from the mysterious girl who had enchanted him. Yet his nephew seemed insistent on learning more about the weaponry from your world and the things you called guns. In different circumstances he would have loved to learn about ways to better protect his people yet now he just couldn’t stomach it.  

With everyone occupied Thorin to the opportunity to leave. He waited until he was out of earshot before he began cursing Mahal. To Thorin it seemed he had been cursed with only misery and pain in his life. It had been far too many years since to joy of his youth, with his whole family around him. Before the dragon sickness tormented his grandfather, before Smaug killed his mother and took Erebor, before the battle of Azanulbizar took three generations of his family from him. He had no time to grieve, he had to look after his young sister and lead his people to prosperity. To work hard, to provide, to make a better life. Now that his end goal seemed within reach it seemed Mahal had taken it upon himself to land another blow by making his one a woman who can’t possibly have him as her one. To him it seemed unnecessarily cruel.  

Thorin was unsure how long he had been aimlessly wandering lost in his thoughts. It was now late into the evening with the stars high in the sky. From a small flicker of light, a woody smell, and the sound of cheer he could tell the company had decided to have a late supper though where they got the food he did not know. One of them must have found the location of the kitchen. Likely the hobbit, even Thorin had to admit Bilbo could find food even in a mine, he could give Bombur a run for his money.  

He settled on a balcony overlooking Rivendell just around the corner from the rather jovial group. Thorin wasn’t sure if he could face you just yet, the fact that you were nervous around him seemed to be a blessing in disguise. It wasn’t long before his peace and quiet was disturbed, Bilbo had stumbled upon his place of solitude. Though it seemed the hobbit hadn't realised that just yet.  

“The throne of Erebor is Thorin’s birth right. What is it you fear?” Thorin knew the elf doubted them the moment he learned of the quest. Gandalf should know it would be no use reasoning with an elf. They sought to stop the dwarves becoming great hubs of power at every opportunity they could. Erebor was the mightiest kingdom of them all and it would be again if the quest was successful. Thorin took a step forward focussing on the conversation, causing Bilbo to become aware of his presence.

“Have you forgotten? A strain of madness runs deep in that family. His grandfather lost his mind. His father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?” It seemed that Mahal hadn’t wounded Thorin enough that night. Thorin shared those doubts though he would never tell a soul, yet to hear another voice those concerns cut deeper than any physical wound. After all he had done, after everything he achieved for his people his reputation revolved around his grandfather's illness.  

“Oi people can hear you!” Came a shout from the balcony below. “If you’re going to talk about people at least go where they can’t hear you.”  

-Your POV-  

You had been looking for Bilbo to offer him another plate before Bombur took it. You found him quickly and noticed Thorin was with him. Both looking out over the city of waterfalls. It wasn’t until you followed their gaze did you notice Lord Elrond and Gandalf talking below. The moment you heard the wizard mention Thorin the noise of the company seemed to fall away, you were shocked to hear of Elrond’s doubts. Especially since they were being expressed out in the open. Your opinion on the pair immediately flipped and in that moment you felt you understood why the dwarves hated elves so much.  

Your mouth worked faster than your brain. Before you knew it you had shouted at your host but in your anger you felt no shame. The pair hurried off together into a room out of sight. When your attention returned to Bilbo and Thorin you saw only a shocked hobbit and a heartbroken dwarf at the top of the stairs.

“They had no right to say those things about you Thorin” This was the first moment you had seen a hint of weakness in the dwarf king. They had clearly struck a nerve.  

“They had every right.” There was no anger in his voice only sadness. You felt his pain and it cut deep. You wanted to hold him to let him voice his troubles. To help lighten the weight of all that he carries yet you held back. Why would a king trust you, you knew he doubted you and your motives but you could not bring yourself to leave him like this. Slowly you made your way up to the balcony and took your place besides Bilbo leaning against the railings.  

“I see there’s a stigma around mental illness here too. I wish people would realise that its nothing to be ashamed of.” You sighed likely realising what you were saying was falling on deaf ears. “I don’t know what happened to your grandfather or father but you can't fear what hasn’t happened yet. If you do then the anxiety spirals out of control until you can no longer get out of bed.” You didn’t dare look at either of them. What had started with you trying to be reassuring had begun turning into a type of therapy for you. “It ran in my family too and I know how much it sucks knowing that all the sadness and worry is coded into your genes but its better knowing and being prepared. I can guarantee every single one of those dwarves down there will help and support you if or when you need them”  

You finally decided to turn to Thorin and look him straight in the eyes. It was a bold move and you knew it but you needed to covey how important this was to you. His gaze lacked his usual intensiveness but he did not look away. “You cannot let fear hold you back.” He seemed to be grateful for those words. He gave you a small nod and sighed.  

“Then we must leave before they can stop us!” It was only then you were able to look away. The strong self-assured dwarf king was back. “Bilbo take a few dwarves and head to the kitchens. Take foods that will last us on the road. I do not know when we will get an opportunity like this again. Be quick but stay out of view. Y/n start gathering your things. It might be worth changing back into your travelling clothes.” He motioned to the elven dress you were still wearing. Your clothes should be dry enough now that changing wouldn’t be an issue. “We must make haste if we are to be gone by the time the sun rises.”

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Ablâg - food 

[fableweaver]

Arc Of the Dwarven Warden

Arc of the Dwarven Warden

The court quieted after the king left, mainly because it was mostly empty now. Without the lords around and the winter still covering the mountains the servants had little to do. Many stayed home or had gone off with their lords to war, leaving the keep mostly empty. This seemed to suit those who remained just fine.

Darin was bored with the winter waiting. The dwarves spent most of their time in the library, learning the trade language to perfection as well as things about the kingdoms. The customs were different for each of the kingdoms, laws and history for each. They weren’t the only ones learning however, Soren was teaching Lofn, Modi, Nora, and Ingrid as well. Dwarves valued education for everyone, but Darin had gathered already that in the kingdoms of men only the nobles were truly educated. The mages seemed to be the only exception to this since Zaire had stated she was not a noble, but was clearly well educated.

During one of their breaks where a servant brought them lunch Darin decided to ask something that had been bothering him.

“I’ve noticed there are some servants that are not servants,” Darin said. “Colm had said he was a slave.”

Silence lasted a painful few heartbeats before Zaire answered him.

“Slavery is more common in the east than in the west,” Zaire said. “Kingdoms like Lir and Xin are the biggest exporters, while Regis and Dridia the biggest consumers. Slave laws vary by kingdom, only two outlaw the practice entirely, Hyria and Alda. Alda however only outlawed it after they lost the King Wars because when Alda held the High Throne they could not out law it entirely in their borders.”

“Nyrgard trades heavily in slaves,” Soren said sadly. “But we unlike the other kingdoms give the opportunity of freedom. A slave in Nyrgard can work off their debt to buy their freedom here.”

Zaire snorted with distain and Soren looked at her.

“That is a farce,” Zaire said bitterly. “I was a slave briefly and my lover was one all his life. It takes a lifetime to work off that debt, and often they are so poor when freed they will just fall into debt and slavery again. Xavier said he came close working in a Nyrgardic mine until the mine collapsed and he was sold again. It is a cruel hope as you dangle the carrot before them always keeping it just out of reach.”

Soren looked away and sighed heavily.

“I suppose it depends on the owner of the slaves Zaire,” Soren answered. “After all isn’t the chance better than none at all? In Lir there is a whole caste of people that are slaves; you are born a slave, live as a slave, and die as a slave. They are never granted their freedom, never. And is Dridia any better?”

Zaire winced and Darin saw tears in her eyes. She was shaking now and Darin reached out to her to take her hand.

“No Dridia is worse,” Zaire said darkly. “Slaves are not slaves for life, when Dridians are done with them they throw them away into Hole. It is a place of human filth and suffering. I like many ignored it all my life until I met Xavier. He… he often had nightmares from what he had to endure down there, though he never told me specifically what happened to him.”

Soren looked disturbed at this and Darin realized he had never considered what a slave went through. Modi and Lofn seemed to be thinking this over deeply, probably because Nora was sitting right next to them.

“Nora, what do you think about slavery?” Darin asked. The little girl blushed as everyone looked at her.

“I baint ken,” she answered shyly.

“Do you hate being a slave?” Soren asked. “Do you want to be free?”

“I baint ken,” she answered again. “Been this way all my life.”

“Are you happy then?” Soren asked.

“Aye now I be happy,” Nora said with a smile. “This place be much better en mine last home. There were a smelly man… he did things I baint liked.”

Darin felt his gore rise and everyone in the room was dead silent. Lofn reached out and took Nora’s hand and she smiled.

“You are my friend Nora,” Lofn said. “Not my slave. So don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Nora nodded smiling back at Lofn. Soren looked pained, his understanding of slavery obviously shaken. Darin looked at Modi and saw him looking pensive.

“And how does the young prince feel about slavery?” Darin asked and Modi looked at him. The boy looked around obviously trying to think things through.

“I don’t know,” Modi answered at last. “But… I can see that Zaire and Nora were hurt by it. But what can we do?”

“You will be king of this place one day,” Donar answered. “You decide what is to be done about this. But I believe you have already come a long way from previous kings Modi, because you understand that slavery causes pain to these people.”

Modi scowled then looking frustrated.

“That isn’t an answer,” he said. “Why do adults always do that?”

“Because we want you to learn to do things for yourself,” Soren answered. “If we did everything for you then you would never learn how to live on your own without us. We won’t be around forever Modi.”

The boy looked scared at that and looked at his hands seeming suddenly powerless. After that they continued to study until they parted ways for bed. The rest of the winter passed in study and mild boredom. Zaire continued her calculations, but she said that her predictions were still vague so she refused to voice them.

There was one day of a festival for lovers, celebrating a demi goddess of love so Zaire had told them. Darin, Donar, and Zaire avoided the festival, all of them didn’t have the heart being apart from their lovers as they were. Ronan seemed to love this festival, and got over his broken heart with a few of the servant women. Darin had noticed that Hakk had taken a liking to one of the Nyrgardic servants even though the woman was twice his height. Donar condoned it with a warning that Hakk had to be careful; Soren didn’t seem to mind at all.  

At last the weather warmed and while the snow did not melt from the northern passes, the southern became clear enough for travel. They decided on their departure a week after the spring equinox. Their leaving was much more quiet than Iounn’s had been, only Soren, Ingrid, and the children coming to see them off.

“You are sure you don’t want a contingent of guards?” Soren asked. “At least to the border?”

“We are fine really,” Donar answered as the servants finished saddling their ponies. Ronan still rode his horse, but Soren had seen a mare brought for Zaire to ride. “We are all warriors, we can see to ourselves thank you.”

“Not all of you are warriors,” Soren said looking to Zaire. She was just taking the reins of her horse looking apprehensive. She hadn’t known how to ride so they had to teach her over the winter. Iounn had seen to it that she had been provided riding clothes, sturdy cotton pants and shirt, a leather vest, new boots, and a large fur cloak.

“We will guard her,” Donar said watching Zaire.

“Why did you agree to take her?” Soren asked. “Surely she would be better here.”

“I agreed because she was right,” Donar said. “We will need her traveling through Dridia, if only because her presence will make the Dridians give us some level of respect. She is a strong person, stronger than she seems, I trust her when she says she can do this.”

“Very well,” Soren said sounding unconvinced. “Safe travels to you.”

“Thank you for your aid,” Donar said. They went to their ponies and mounted up, Ronan leading the way out of the keep, through the city, and down the mountain.

“Have you traveled this road before Ronan?” Darin asked as they rode out of Hólmsted heading south along the road.

“No, but I know the way,” Ronan answered. “We simply follow the road. You will still need me by the way, even if it is simply following a road. There are branches sometimes in the road and I know which to take even if I have never traveled the road.”

“How is that?” Darin asked.

“The Rhodin have ways of marking safe roads and unsafe roads,” Ronan answered. “I may not be Rhodin, but my father was and I spent some time with them in my youth. I learned enough of their secrets. I cannot tell you them though, the Rhodin like to keep their secrets and I will not reveal them.”

“That is alright, you are our guide Ronan,” Darin said. “There is a lot more to travel than simply knowing which way you are going.”

“That’s right,” Ronan said with a grin. “I also know the words to get into Rhodin camps if we run across any so we can seek lodging for the night.”

“Iounn made sure we had coin to travel with,” Donar said patting a pocket that held the coin they had been given. Dwarves though they valued precious stones and gold didn’t have coin like men. They worked on a system of barter or trade, an easy enough practice when everyone knew each other even in the large dwarven cities.

“I know but it helps to save coin sometimes,” Ronan said. “And the Rhodin carry news from over the kingdom. Their camps are often safer than some travelers inns we’ll come across, and cleaner too.”

“Alright,” Donar said with a grin. “You know what you’re talking about Ronan.”

“Thank you,” Ronan said as he grinned. He looked to Zaire then, her face set in a look of concentration as she sat in the saddle obviously trying to keep her seat. “Lady Zaire, have you done much traveling?”

“No, I’ve never even left Myr until recently,” Zaire answered, nervously looking up from her horse’s neck.

“Relax, the horse knows what she’s doing,” Ronan said. “Just sit back and let her do all the work.”

“Easy for you to say,” Zaire said. “You were probably born in the saddle.”

“No but my mother said I learned to ride before I learn to walk,” Ronan said grinning. “Although it was on a goat not a pony since that was all we had.”

“You said your father was Rhodin,” Zaire said looking at him. “And you traveled with him?”

“The Rhodin often travel the same roads so yes I’ve traveled with him,” Ronan answered. “He came by several times when I was a child, but since I did not have the eyes he never took me. When I was old enough however to make my own choices he did let me travel with him for a while.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Zaire asked. “That your father never really accepted you?”

“He loves me as much as any of his other children,” Ronan said. “And he has accepted me. But I am not Rhodin; I know that from traveling with them and living with them. It isn’t so much as I wasn’t fully accepted as that I didn’t feel part of them wholly. I feel like them but not part of them; the wonder lust doesn’t hold me as strongly. I like to travel and see new places more than the average Daunish shepherd or Elmerian farmer, but I could never live my entire life on the road like the Rhodin. There are times when I feel weary and seek to rest in one place for a time, the Rhodin never feel this.”

“You don’t feel sad that you have never found your place in this world?” Zaire asked.

“I feel very sad,” Ronan answered looking at her. “But I believe my place is with a certain person that will complete me. I suppose that is why I have traveled; I am looking for that person. I have fallen in love many times and had my heart broken many times.”

“This doesn’t deter you from the search?” Zaire asked.

“No if anything it makes me more determined,” Ronan answered. “It may seem callow that I flirt with one woman, profess my love, and then move on to the next, but I am sincere each time. I suppose I really just enjoy the pursuit and the search more than anything.”

“So for me am I one of those embers that dies quickly?” Zaire asked and Ronan looked at her and smiled.

“Lady Zaire I enjoy your company and your knowledge,” Ronan answered. “If you are ever interested in becoming lovers my arms are open, if not I will stand by you as a friend and companion. I can tell you don’t understand me at all when I say I am serious, but I am. Each time I love the person with my full heart, I cannot do it any other way. Yet I can love another with my heart fully and another after that.”

“No I don’t understand,” Zaire said and they sat in silence a moment. “You keep saying person not woman,” Zaire said at last and Ronan laughed again.

“I traveled through the fens of Hyria for some time,” Ronan answered. “There I found that the company of Hyrian men was often as enjoyable as women. I am not sure if I would venture with any man from another race simply because some tend to be more uptight about it. Maybe Lirian or Daunish if I met one that didn’t mind, but I am open to both genders if it means a night of pleasure. Do the Dridians not practice this?”

“Our race is dying,” Zaire said. “We cannot spare anyone to live in a match that cannot produce a child. That does not mean we do not venture that way, but the Dridian prefer that such choices be kept secret and out of the public eye. Most often it is because the person in question is married.”

“It sounds like a hard way to live,” Ronan said.

“I lived my life with a sigil inside me that prevented me from feeling any pleasure in another’s touch,” Zaire said. “Man or woman, any form of contact caused me pain. I realized long ago that there were many Dridians trapped as I was, just not in the same way. Arranged marriages are common in Dridia, painfully so. Family registries, bloodlines, and even astronomical charts of the children’s births are consulted to determine if they are a good match and that they could bear a child. Often the children are engaged before they are even old enough to walk, and married as soon as the woman enters her first blood.

“My parents had such a match, but they loved one another or grew to love one another. Some are not so lucky. I have known others who hated their spouse. Some who preferred the same gender, but were forced to lie with the other. They sneak around sleeping with slaves or other nobles or mages, always keeping it secret. It is so common everyone knows about it but they don’t say anything because it is not polite.”

“I never knew the mages lived like that,” Ronan said shocked. Zaire didn’t look at him, staring off towards the mountains to the south east where they were headed.

“It is what we have become,” Zaire said. “And still our race is dying. I am testament to that, a colored mage with so little power I can barely draw a light sigil.”

“Just because you do not have power does not mean you are not Dridian,” Darin said frowning. “You are a great mage Zaire, but who is to say that the Dridian race will die if the mages are born without the High Magic?”

“Darin what would the Phay be without the Elder Magic?” Zaire asked and Darin looked away.

“But he is right,” Ronan said. “Dridia will still exist even if all the mages were born without power.”

“Less of us are born each year,” Zaire said shaking her head. “More of us are dying than being born. Even if we were born without any of the High Magic and it would vanish from all our lines, we would still slowly die out.”

“Why not mix then with other races?” Ronan asked.

“We are selective and have been trying to preserve our power,” Zaire said. “I suppose if we gave that up and just let our people inter breed with other races we might survive. But would we still be Dridian? Like I said we are a race of mages, what are we without the High Magic?”

Darin could not answer her because he understood. While the Dwarves had very little in the ways of great power in the Elder Magic, it was still a part of them. He couldn’t imagine life without being able to see the Wild Kin. Their entire political structure was based on the chiefs as the reborn spirits of the past chiefs. If the chiefs could not recall their past lives then they could not lead as well as they could. Their king was even selected by magical means.

Darin could sympathize even more because he knew the Younger Phay left in Miread were struggling to survive with the loss of the Elder of the Phay. Their powers were dwindling like the mages and if the Phay did not march soon they Younger Phay would fade from Miread. Darin though had faith the Phay would march and things would turn to the better for him and his kin; but he could not see how the Dridians could be saved.

They rode on through the day along the road. Southern Nyrgard was heavily populated, full of farms in the valleys and terraces carven into the sides of mountains. The road was just starting to become busy as the farmers began to prepare for the spring planting. The roads were muddy, but clear now from the snows that still sat up high on the mountains around them.

It took them three days riding to reach the southern pass, camping along the road with Rhodin or at inns along the way. The southern pass was winding but wide enough to let wagons pass alongside each other. There were other travelers along the road, merchants mostly since this was a trade road into another kingdom. At the end of the pass was a post and small settlement, two guard towers standing opposite. One tower flew Sten’s wolverine; the other flew a griffin which Darin guessed to but the emblem of Dridia’s royal house.

The Nyrgardic guard tower was busy checking those coming into Nyrgard, so they joined the line of traffic traveling out. When they reached the tower they dismounted and Zaire took the lead. The man at the tower was like her, a mage with straw colored hair and brown eyes.

“Greetings,” Zaire said in the trade language.

“Greetings,” the mage answered. “May I see your papers?”

Zaire handed over the travel papers Iounn had drawn up for them. He was surprised that they needed documentation for their travels, but Ronan had said that when traveling official roads between kingdoms they would be needed to establish their identities and intentions. The mage read them over, glancing at each of them and then looking at Zaire.

He asked something in the Dridian language and Zaire answered in the same. He continued to question her, neither seemed agitated or worried but Darin felt anxious as words were exchanged. At last he nodded and stamped their papers before handing them back to Zaire. They mounted and rode off continuing down the road since there was still enough daylight left to move on.

“What was that about?” Darin asked Zaire once they were out of sight of the border crossing.

“He was inquiring about my identity,” Zaire answered lowly. “When I left Myr it was fleeing the prince. I had Iounn change my name on the papers, Zaire is a common name I just had her change my family name to Mason for a golem maker. The guard was asking why I didn’t have my family sigil or any magical identification. Those sigils are much harder to forge than these regular travel papers; of course these aren’t forgeries since Iounn drew them up herself and lied a few times on them.”

“What did you tell him?” Darin said.

“The truth: that I had been traveling to Hólmsted late in the season when the ship I was on sank,” Zaire answered. “I lost everything except my glasses. Of course I neglected to mention that I had been a slave on that ship and wanted. I told him I had joined your party seeking to return home since you were traveling in the same direction.”

“You seem skilled at lying Lady Zaire,” Ronan said and Zaire blushed.

“I’m a horrible liar,” Zaire answered. “I gave that man enough of the truth that he filled it in with his own interpretation.”

“That is skilled lying,” Ronan said.

“If he had pressed any of the issues I wouldn’t have been able to keep it up,” Zaire answered. “That is a mark of a poor liar is the inability to keep it up under scrutiny.”

“Granted,” Ronan said.

“What do our papers say?” Donar asked. “Iounn never said.”

“They are written in Nyrgardic and Dridian,” Zaire answered. “Iounn did the Nyrgardic and I did the Dridian. They state your origins as Daun and destination as Alda. The purpose of the trip is simply stated as music.”

Donar laughed at that and Darin grinned as well, they were indeed seeking a song. With Ronan along as well they could at least pass off as traveling minstrels.

“The papers state Ronan as the musician,” Zaire added. “You are hired guards that I requested from Iounn.”

“We can’t pass for Nyrgarders,” Darin said.

“We never said you were,” Zaire said. “We simply marked you as ‘mercenaries of the road’. There are many men that travel the roads acting as hired guards. Your origins are not important.”

“If you say so Zaire,” Darin said dubious.

“So how far will we be traveling through Dridia?” Donar asked.

“All the way to the Aldan border,” Ronan answered. “I must say it will be easier to get through since we have someone who speaks Dridian.”

“Most of the mages live in Myr,” Zaire answered. “The villages here are going to be mostly Elmerian.”

“Do the Elmerians have their own language?” Darin asked.

“No, they only speak the trade language or the language of the kingdom they live in,” Zaire answered.

“Actually they do have their own language,” Ronan answered and she looked at him surprised. “Not all of them speak it but some do. It has no written form and as I understand the language has not changed since the Elmerians arrived here.”

“Why have I never heard of this?” Zaire asked.

“They keep it secret,” Ronan said with a shrug. “I’ve come to learn there is a lot more to the Elmerians than the other races seem to believe.”

“We’ve heard that the cult that follows the Crippled One targets the Elmerians mostly,” Donar said. “Does it have something to do with their race?”

“I honestly don’t know enough about them,” Ronan answered. “They are a bit like the Rhodin that they keep their secrets away from outsiders. My best guess is that the Elmerians were targeted because they are uneducated farmers in isolated rural communities. It is easy to manipulate them and play on the resentment they have for the nobles. Slaves are vulnerable as well because they would do anything for their freedom.”

Darin mulled that over as they rode leaving the mountains behind. They had a spectacular view of the land for leagues before them as the mountains dropped away into the low lands. A great river wound through the hills closest to them a town nestled at it with a bridge spanning the river. Beyond the river spread southern Dridia. The land here was flat mostly and covered in farms with lines of trees beyond them. The farms spread to the horizon, disappearing in a line of blue. To the south the land rose up again into hills and a large plateau. To the north the land continued to sink towards sea level in rolling hills.

“The river ahead is the Yr River,” Ronan said. “It is the technical border between Dridia, Alda, and Nyrgard, but it is easier to have a guard post at the pass here. The village is called Stavors, it has a duke and he owns a lot of the land along the river on the Dridian side. To the south you can see the Mark, those are the highland plateau where most of the Mark’s cattle and horses are raised. To the north it becomes closer to sea level and that is where Myr lies by the Wading Bay.”

“More mages live to the north along the coast,” Zaire said. “There are more islands along the coast where they’ve set up private villas and mansions. The weaker mages live inland, the more powerful live along the coast near Myr.”

“So the more powerful mages own less land?” Ronan said surprised.

“Power in Dridia is measured by the High Magic not how much land you have,” Zaire answered. “We only have the land to grow the food we need, our wealth doesn’t come from the land but how many enchanted items one can make to trade. The more powerful mages to the north make their island villas paradises and hire other mages to live there. Those hired mages produce enchantments for the sale and wealth of the place.”

“I see,” Ronan said fascinated. “Then what about this ducal house Stavors?”

“Duke Stavors has many holdings,” Zaire answered. “I’ve heard about him, he has several island villas at the mouth of the Yr; that is where his real wealth lies. Although I’ve heard that he owns half the Yr on the Dridian side.”

“The Yr, where does it lead?” Donar asked looking to the south east.

“The Verde Sea,” Ronan answered. “The Verde Sea is actually a lake, but its size made it mistaken as a sea. Alda holds the lake but Lir lies on the other side of it. I don’t know where their borders are drawn on the waters, I expect they change a lot. Why?”

“I remember this place,” Donar answered. “I traveled along this river in my first life as Emir. Though it was on a ship along the river inland to the lake you mentioned.”

“Why?” Ronan asked.

“A meeting of our kin just as the mud men were crawling out of the mud,” Donar answered. “It was when the Aldan race was still young and making things. I was actually traveling on the first boat they ever built. We had sailed the sea and came down this river to the Verde Sea.”

“When the Daunish were just…” Ronan trailed off and Darin noticed he was staring at Donar in awe. “You can remember that long ago?”

“Only the chiefs of the dwarves can recall their past memories,” Donar answered.

“How on earth do you keep it all strait?” Zaire asked fascinated. “All those lives?”

“Well first of all we live longer than you,” Donar answered. “Probably about twice or three times as long, so I don’t have as many past lives as you. Secondly I am still me, I just on occasion get a sense that I have done something like this before. I get the sense and then all I have to do is sink into it and the memory comes. I can do it with just a bit of a kick to the memory, a name of a place or a person’s name. When I have that I can remember why I felt this as familiar.

“This can be dangerous for one of the chiefs who are not ready. Sometimes the memories overwhelm us and our mind scrambles as it struggles with the identities flowing through them. We go about the training of it slowly, and as we get older we gain more control of them. In contrast when we get too old we forget who we are in this life and start reliving our old lives. Chiefs often die when we start showing these symptoms, our hearts can’t take the confusion of the mind and spirit.”

Darin still remembered when Donar had first started to regain his past memories. For a time he had not been himself. He had often displayed different personalities, and on occasion called others by the wrong name. It had been brief however, and he had quickly adapted. Darin realized now however he had also been struggling with his memories of Runi and her past life.

As they rode closer to the village Darin saw it was bigger than it had seemed at a distance, the buildings spreading along the line of the river. The buildings were all made of gray brick and shingled with brown roofing. There were many glass windows, the buildings standing three or more stories off the ground. As they rode into town following the traffic there grew more and more people.

Darin saw mages by the plenty, some colored like Zaire but a few were completely white with red eyes. There were also Nyrgarders and Elmerians, as well as a few Rhodin. He had yet to see a town of men completely free of Rhodin. The roads were wide enough for traffic to pass along smoothly, though Darin noticed narrower alleys where foot traffic was concentrated.

They reached the bridge shortly, the other side of the river held the larger part of the village. The bridge was a flat expanse with a stone guard wall and arches as support. The river was only half a league wide, and telling by the amount of undines it was deep and swift. Across the river Darin could see the buildings get taller and more ornate, guessing that the mages liked bigger houses. He spotted a few mansions with fenced gardens on a hill over the village, and found where the wealthy lived. They rode into the village proper and kept going with the traffic.

“Look,” Zaire said as they rode past the river docks. Darin followed her finger to see a man slumped in a corner begging for alms. Darin had seen many men like this in the cities in the Kingdoms, in Hólmsted and even Dun Eald, so he wondered why Zaire pointed him out. Until Darin looked closer as they rode past and realized what she meant. The man’s spirit had been broken, a rotten smell coming from him, Darin seeing his shattered soul in the madness in his eyes.

They rode past the man without incident, but Darin looked to Zaire shocked.

“That is one of the servants of Kal Ba’el,” Zaire said. “Xavier told me how to tell who they are by the boils and rotting skin. They are lepers and so don’t feel pain, yet they enjoy causing it.”

“Why do they serve him if he does that to them?” Darin asked.

“Because he grants them power,” Donar answered. “The leprosy is a side effect of his touch on them, but the power is no doubt like a drug on their senses. Little do they know the satisfaction will be brief, tying your spirit to a soul eater will destroy your spirit as it will eventually consume it.”

“We should find an inn,” Ronan said shuddering away from the conversation of the followers of the Crippled One. “There won’t be another place to stop for a while. Do you know any Zaire?”

“No, I’ve never been here,” Zaire said looking around. “But…”

She trailed off as she put on another pair of her spectacles over the other pair she wore. She looked around and then pointed towards a turn off.

“There is an inn that way,” Zaire said.

“How do you know?” Ronan asked.

“Just as the Rhodin like to leave hidden signs so do mages,” Zaire answered. “More accurately this is an advertisement that the owner of the inn put out to attract passing mages. This way.”

She turned her horse towards the street and they followed. They followed this road down until Zaire stopped before a building with a short wall around a courtyard out front. Darin looked up at the building, it looked little different than the others around them other than the sign over the door. The sign had a sigil glowing on it that he couldn’t read. An Elmerian hurried up from the stoop and approached Ronan with a scowl as they dismounted.

“Here now this establishment is for mages only,” the man said making a shooing motion. “You’ll find plenty of lodging for your like along the river.”

“We are in the company of a mage good sir,” Ronan said indicating Zaire. “We are her escort, unless she is not welcome here either.”

The man looked at Zaire and he clearly thought she wasn’t worthy either. Darin glared at the man, he wore fine clothes and his shoes shined unlike other working people he had seen.

“Let’s find somewhere else Ronan,” Zaire said wilting under the servant’s scowl. “We don’t have the coin for this place anyways.”

“I’m not so sure about staying somewhere near the river,” Ronan objected. “Can you find another place that would be better than that?”

“No, there won’t be any in between,” Zaire said. “It is the river inns or places like this.”

“The river inn aren’t all that bad,” the servant said, obviously trying to get rid of them. “I’m sure your docky can fetch a fine price.”

Ronan punched the man before anyone could say more, the servant falling right on his ass. Sigils blazed and Darin’s ears rang as magic came to life around them lighting the courtyard. Two stone statues on the wall came to life, leaping down from the wall and charging for them. Darin shouted as he drew his sword, the other dwarves doing the same. The horses shied and backed away, unable to run as the two stone creatures blocked the exit.

Darin had little time to react before one of the statues was on him, stone talons aiming for his head. He ducked, rolled, and came up slashing, his sword causing sparks against the stone. He rolled away realizing he wasn’t going to cause any damage that way. He turned when he heard a dwarven battle cry, Hakk charging at the other statue with his ax. He leapt up and brought his pommel down on the creature’s knee, cracks spreading. The thing didn’t even make a noise as it batted him away easily.

Hakk rolled to his feet but then Darin felt someone grab him, pulling him away from the first statue which had swung out at him while he had been distracted. Darin nodded to Donar who nodded back. They ran around the stone creature, trying to distract it to get in to attack.

“Enough!” Someone shouted and the statues stopped moving. Darin turned to see a mage standing on the stoop, her skin and hair bright white. Ronan stood by the horses trying to keep them from bolting. Zaire stood by one of the sigils, her hand in the sigil as she looked up at the mage and the mage looked at her. Darin realized Zaire had summoned the mage; she had not come because of the attack.

The mage spoke to Zaire in the Dridian language and Zaire answered in the same. Once again a conversation went on, but this time Zaire didn’t seem as meek as before. The mage scowled at her but then looked to the servant.

“Did you call this woman a whore?” the mage asked her servant.

“Lady Korina,” the servant said shakily. “She is a powerless mage. I thought…”

“There is no such thing as a powerless mage,” the lady answered angrily. “And none of our kind have ever had to resort to such an occupation. Get out and go serve at the river side as one if you are so fond of them.”

“Milady please no!” the servant said groveling. The lady lashed out with a sigil, light blazing as a whip of power scored the cobble stones before the servant.

“I said get out whelp,” the lady roared. “You are lucky you are a free man or you’d be dead by now.”

The servant scrambled to his feet and ran out of the courtyard, blubbering the whole way. The lady waved her hand and the two stone statues turned and went back to their posts. Then the mage woman turned to Zaire and spoke again in Dridian. Zaire looked at her slightly surprised, but then removed her hand from the sigil she held. The light faded and the courtyard was normal once again, only a few cracked cobble stones.

Hakk and Bgrim hurried to help Ronan with the horses as Darin and Donar joined Zaire to face the mage woman.

“Put your swords away,” Zaire said. “It’s fine.”

They did so as the lady walked up to them. She wore fine white robes lined with blue sculpted patterns and silver coins. Up close her face was beautiful and cold like a marble statue.

“I am Zaire Mason,” Zaire said as she bowed to the lady. “These are my guards Donar and Darin, those by the horses are Hakk and Bgrim. The last is a Daunish minstrel by the name of Ronan.”

“I am the Lady Korina, inn keeper of this establishment and second cousin to the Duke Stavors,” the woman answered. “I apologize for my servant’s insults.”

“We apologize for assaulting him,” Donar said bowing to her. “And for causing such a disturbance. We had not known about the stone creatures.”

“Gargoyles,” Korina answered. “They were enchanted to defend the house and those who work here.” She then looked at Zaire and once again began speaking in Dridian. Darin got the impression she did this on purpose. Zaire answered in the same and this time their conversation lasted some time. Zaire handed over their papers and Korina questioned her more. Darin was beginning to worry that the mage had figured out Zaire had once been an outlaw when she smiled and handed the papers back.

“You are welcome to stay here then,” she said in the trade language. “Free of charge to apologize for my rude servant.”

“Thank you milady,” Zaire said bowing. “I will be sure to mention this spot to the king.”

Korina nodded and turned away back to the inn.

“What just happened?” Darin asked worried.

“The same thing with all nobles,” Zaire answered. “She wanted to know my standing; she wasn’t impressed with me or my power. The only reason she defended me against her servant was because I am a mage. No mage will tolerate such insults from a servant to another mage, even if that mage is colored like me. She was impressed however by our papers, and the king’s seal. Iounn thought it would be a nice touch.

“I told her I spent time in the Court of Legends and if I had met the king. A friend of any of the kings is welcome to a noble inn, especially if I promise to recommend these establishments to said king later.”

Darin nodded as he grinned, thanking Iounn silently for her forethought. A few stable hands came out and took charge of the horses, and they were able to gather their things and enter the inn. There was an entry hall with several large double doors along the sides.

“I told the lady that we would go right to our rooms,” Zaire said. “She doesn’t want us mixing with the other patrons. A meal will be brought to us.”

They went to the stairs and Zaire led the way, Darin guessing she was led by sigils again. She went down a hallway decorated with fine carpets and wallpaper. She stopped at one door and opened it, her fingers flicking over a lock sigil. Inside the room was lit by mage lights, fine carpets and satin drapes decorating the room. A table and chairs sat on one side of the room three beds on the other side. There was no grate or fire yet the room was pleasantly warm.

They set their things down just as a servant arrived with a trolley of food. She quickly set the table and left, keeping her head down. Darin looked at the spread impressed, a roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and what looked like leeks and turnips baked in cheese. They sat to eat and when they finished Zaire stood.

“I’m going to take a bath,” she said and Ronan looked at her.

“Aren’t you tired?” Ronan asked. “It’ll take hours to gather the water.”

“The mages have indoor running water,” Zaire said with a grin. “And it is heated. Feel free to take advantage of it when I am done.”

Darin was used to the hot baths of the mountain springs. In the kingdoms it seemed people had difficulty gathering water and heating it for baths. His people had the convenience of the hot springs so Darin acknowledged that the technology was beyond some parts of the kingdom.

Zaire went and took her bath, coming out of the little water closet wrapped in a bath robe. They took turns, Zaire having to activate the sigils for them to operate the flow of water. The room was small and lined in blue tile, the tub barely big enough for Ronan to sit in. All the same the hot water felt good and Darin enjoyed the chance to wash the dust of the road from him. He knew they wouldn’t get another chance.

“Is this how all mages live?” Ronan asked as they sat around after their baths.

“Yes,” Zaire answered. “I honestly have taken a lot of these things for granted, after living in Nyrgard where bath water has to be fetched and lighting comes from dim candles. I understand how luxurious the mages have lived even the lowest of us, which is me. I thought my life had been hard, but compared to those who don’t even have access to enough clean water to drink let alone bathe in it was luxurious.”

“Pain can’t be compared Zaire,” Darin said. “Everyone’s lives have their own difficulties. From the highest noble to the lowest beggar, their problems are just different.”

“What about the dwarves?” Zaire asked. “Are there as many inadequacies or inequalities in your society?”

“We try to help one another as we can, but some are more important than others,” Donar said. “We all have our duties but some are harder than others. The warriors seem lazy to the miners who work nearly ten hours a day, while to the warriors the miners seem dirty and crude. But both risk their lives every day, one in the effort to gain material and the other defending our people from the Orcs. We each understand the other means something to our people, but sometimes this is forgotten in resentment for the other.

“We don’t try to make life equal for all of us, but we do make sure everyone has at least the basic needs of life. A home, food, bathing, clothes, education, and light which is important underground. But some have decided they want to live on their own, so they leave to live alone in the tunnels. They are welcome back any time, but they choose to live lives of solitary. These hermits are less common where we are from because of the Orcs who pick them off easily.”

“If the Orcs weren’t around would you say your society is perfect?” Zaire asked.

“No, there are problems of course, and the other races of the Phay had problems as well,” Donar answered. “Nor do I want our society to be perfect. Peace would be nice, but it is the problems of life that keep it interesting. If I could rise every day, fill my belly, be warm and content, and see my family happy, that would be grand but I know after just two days of nothing I would be bored and seek something to challenge me.”

“You wouldn’t get tired of the work?” Zaire asked. “Of people squabbling over stupid things?”

“Eventually I would but that’s what vacations are for,” Donar said with a grin. “It lets you clear your mind so that you can return and think clearly again.”

Darin stared at him realizing something and then laughed.

“What?” Donar asked as Darin continued to laugh.

“I think I just figured out why our kin really marched,” Darin said grinning. “A vacation.”

Donar stared at him a moment before he threw back his head and laughed as well. Bgrim and Hakk joined in Zaire and Ronan laughing as well. Their merriment died when someone began pounding on their door. Zaire hurried to answer it. She spoke with the other person on the other side of the door in Dridian for some time, Darin gathering she was apologizing. At last she closed the door, but the mood had soured.

“I take it we were making too much noise,” Donar said and Zaire nodded. “Well it’s about time we turned in anyways. We should leave before dawn to be out of this place as soon as we can.”

“I’m sorry,” Zaire said but Donar waved it off.

“It’s not your fault,” Donar said. “Let’s get some rest.”

They went to bed, two each to a bed, Hakk and Bgrim, Darin and Donar, and Zaire and Ronan. Darin glared warningly at Ronan, but he crossed his heart in promise not to touch Zaire. The mattress was extremely comfortable and Darin had no trouble falling asleep. When they woke it was dawn and they quickly set about dressing and gathering their things. They left and Zaire led the way to the stables where servants were already up tending to the horses. As they waited for the servants to gather their horses the Lady Korina appeared again.

“I see you are leaving,” Korina said sounding pleased. “I hope your stay was enjoyable.”

“It was milady it is an inn worthy of kings,” Zaire said bowing to her and Korina beamed.

“I could at least provide you some fresh bread for the road,” Korina said, waving to a servant who stepped forward with a basket. Zaire took it and bowed again.

“You are too kind milady,” Zaire said.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Donar said without a hint of sarcasm. Korina smiled again before she left, Darin glaring after her.

“Was the bowing and scrapping necessary?” Darin asked.

“She did let us stay for free,” Zaire said. “I know her hospitality was a bit cold, but for a mage she was astonishingly generous.”

Darin felt disgust that the level of hospitality they enjoyed here was considered generous by mage standards. Their horses were saddled and ready so they mounted and rode off into the waking town. Zaire handed out the bread so they could eat while they rode. They turned out to be fresh honey buns with almonds and delicious. At least the food had been good at the inn.

They left Stavors behind and traveled along the southern trade road. Dridia proved to be a tame country trapped between the highlands of the Mark and the mountains of Nyrgard. The road led to fairly populated villages, but even in these on occasion they saw Legionnaires. They avoided the servants of the Crippled One like the plague they carried.

The road was safe however, patrolled by golems or real men, occasionally mages. A week turned and they covered ground at a regular pace. Travel was always best done in a moderate pace, for the health of the horses and their riders. Zaire was the one prone to exhaustion the most, but she was becoming more resilient as they traveled.

“We are near Alda,” Ronan said one day little more than a week after they had left Stavors. Darin looked up on the horizon and saw they were once again close to the Mark. They had flirted with the river Yr on the road, occasionally seeing it and occasionally riding away from it. Darin looked east but could see only rolling hills.

“You’re sure?” Darin asked.

“The markings on the road warn o a dead end,” Ronan answered. “They say ta go east ye will have to go around. Alda has had its borders closed fer nearly twenty years now, nowt even the Rhodin get in. They’ve marked this road as leading ta Alda be a dead end.”

“How long?” Donar asked.

“Five days maybe a week dependin on the weather,” Ronan said and pointedly looked east again. A storm was brewing, Darin just seeing a storm sylph in the clouds.

“We’re riding right into the teeth of that sylph,” Darin said.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Donar said. They had camped by the side of the road last night so there wasn’t much shelter available. “Ronan?”

“An inn be ahead but I baint ken we can make it afor the storm hits,” Ronan answered.

“We’ll try for it,” Donar said frustrated.

Grimly they urged their horses on towards the gathering storm.

[lavalampelfchild]

Oghren and Banter

I swear, if I get one more portrayal of dwarves as nothing more than a punchline, I’m going to have a gasket or blow a cow. 

Listening to the banter conversations between the companions and Oghren is like all the most annoying stereotypes of dwarves coming to the surface.  I love Zevran and Oghren’s dynamic, because they reach each other on a level that is equal, and neither gives the impression that they’re only tolerating or condescending the other, even though they mainly bond through all those dirty jokes.  But Alistair’s entire conversation set with Oghren consists of Oghren spouting dirty jokes over and over, and Alistair responding in a completely uninterested, very dry tone. 

Morrigan’s are not better; she just seems to be trying to find the best ways to say something that’ll sting or drive Oghren away so that she doesn’t have to deal with him, meanwhile his obliviousness to it all seems to be played off as stupid, and he just keeps going, asking her things about sex and whatnot.  Because Oghren’s a drunk, he’s obsessed with sex!

But lo and behold, Leliana tries to get to know him, and talks to him seriously about Branka, and while he quickly deflects the discussion with a CRAZY STNKY FART, HA HA DWARVES ARE GROSS, he does respond to it with what seems to be genuine bitterness, revealing a different side of himself that does seem to be more genuine than the one that goes with the fart jokes. 

Leliana is also the only one whom Oghren actually asks a serious question; he asks her how the heck she stands it with all this open air, with this great open sky, which canonically makes him uncomfortable.  And Leliana doesn’t make fun of him for it, doesn’t give him shit; she gives him an honest answer.  I just think it’s interesting that because Leliana actually treats him with kindness and some respect, he’s more comfortable with straying from that “drunk, perverted, dirty joker” act to ask her serious questions.

And he listens to her story about how the sky came to be!  He listens and he responds seriously, without making fun of it or deflecting to a different topic with a fart joke or a sex pun! 

Here’s the unfortunate part, though: Oghren has four banter convos with Leliana.  Four!  And one of them is his typical use of innuendo and pervy remarks, though it is during the first conversation he has with her, before he gets to know her; meanwhile another one is entirely dependent on giving Leliana an optional gift (Schmooples the nug), and won’t occur if you don’t get her that gift.  Nice, BioWare.

All of the interesting interactions Oghren could have had – Sten on the different cultures of their people, Leliana on the stories of both of their worlds and the respect they can come to develop for one another, Shale about the dwarven culture surrounding golems – were trimmed down to just two or three banter convos, and it sucks.  Meanwhile, I have to listen to five banter convos rehash a version of what Zevran does with Wynne, except with Oghren (pervy flirting as Wynne gets annoyed and repeatedly puts her foot down about how, no, that’s not going to happen), and more of the exact same innuendos and puns with Oghren’s chats with Alistair and Morrigan.  The only other really solid convos Oghren gets are with Zevran, who very often partakes in the terrible jokes with him, establishing a rapport, and not just an “I’m tolerating you because the Warden wants you here, but I will make very obvious my dislike of talking with you” vibe, like literally everyone else, except Leliana.  

Hell, even Shale – who has some very interesting convos with Oghren – very easily falls into the same habit Alistair and Morrigan and Sten and Wynne when talking to Oghren: i.e. a lot of sighing and making disdainful references to how much he drinks and stop making inappropriate sexual references, you perverted dwarf, and oh, Oghren will be stinking up the joint now, better get some nose plugs!  Yes, that one is actually used in a banter convo.

(Though while Shale doesn’t hold back on the insults about Oghren, Oghren does get some zingers in himself; for example, when Shale compares Oghren to a human in its old village who wandered into a snowstorm and died, Oghren says, “I think I had a wife like you once.”  You know you’re doing friendly banter conversation wrong when I’m actively rooting for one of the two participants to get their asses handed to them, and hey, BioWare does that with five characters who chat with Oghren!)

And Shale and Oghren do have some beautiful convos that delve into whether or not the dwarves would use the Anvil of the Void to create more golems had they the opportunity.  And in those convos, Oghren shows an intriguing and impressive level of insight into the minds of his own people, being certain that they would line up to become golems were someone to learn the magic of the Anvil, and knowing that they’d be willing to subject themselves to that pain because of the decline of the dwarven population. 

And when Shale asks Oghren if Oghren believes the Warden to have been wrong to destroy the Anvil (in the event it was destroyed), Oghren says this:

“(Sigh) No.  Sometime people need to be kept from doing stupid things, even for good reasons.”

And then Shale asks if Oghren is referring to Branka with that statement, and Oghren gets defensive and closes up for the first time in all his banter convos.  Because it hurts to think about Branka in this worldstate, the one in which she died, and refused to listen, and called him worthless before showing how willing she was to watch him die after he spent two years throwing away his reputation amongst his fellow dwarves just to find her.  And we get a different side of him in this!  We see hints of the pain he feels when he thinks of his declining race, when he thinks of what happened to his wife; we see his views on golems and why he thinks they’re worse for the dwarven race than better for them.

But of course, Shale and Oghren’s convos fall right back into the same trend that Oghren’s convos with many other companions do because of course fart jokes and sex puns are all Oghren is good for, right?  And it ruins all that beautiful potential.  There is one more moment which looks like some positive development may be had – Shale admits that Oghren is a decent fighter and that there are worse things than fighting at his side – but that never goes anywhere!  The next convo they have is right back to Oghren deflecting with his usual brand of sex jokes, innuendos, and fart jokes, while Shale sighs and jabs about Oghren’s poor hygiene.  Yay. 

And of course, the dog.  Oghren is at first not a big fan of the dog companion, but he seems to change his tune a little more, and isn’t it goddamn interesting how he has more development in two conversations, and with the dog, than he does in five conversations with other fellow people.  Isn’t it interesting how the dog is the one with whom Oghren shares his dreams of achieving glory for his house (in however amusing a vision), of earning a good reputation among his people after having been shunned and tossed aside by them?  Isn’t it interesting how Oghren shares his abject disagreement with the use and creation of golems with the dog, even though the dog joins the ranks of the companions who don’t like Oghren and have no tolerance for him?  How fucking interesting.  Thank you, BioWare, for that.  Thank you for lowering all of your characters – with the exception of Leliana and Zevran, mind you – to a one-note punchline, or to being the idiots who actually believe this dwarf is only a one-note punchline.

Leliana, Zevran, this is why I love you.  Alistair, Morrigan, Wynne, Shale, Sten, hell, even Dog, y’all can go sit someplace where I don’t have to look at you, and stay there until you think about what you’ve done.  I love you all, but you never learn anything in your damn banter.  If a dynamic starts out bad or hostile, it stays bad or hostile (maybe with one or two red herrings of incomplete development); if it starts good and wholesome, it stays good and wholesome.  It’s only ever an unmoving line, a constant adherence to whatever status quo the first conversation establishes.  No one ever learns, tries to understand, or develops in any way with these other characters they chat with, and I’m tired of it.  And for the writers who thought that it was a good idea to give us a myriad of the exact same jokes over and over instead of developing the one dwarf companion you gave us, I bite my thumb at you.

[decadentenemyturtle]

The Great Unknown

Summary: As if it wasn't bad enough to fall in a random hole in a road and find yourself in Middle Earth, travelling with Thorin Oakenshield and his company, but also get turned into a dog by Gandalf. And when the wizard doesn't even know how it happened or how to turn you back, you could only hope that this was just a bad dream.But is it?

Pairing: Thorin’s Company x Reader

Words: 2031

All parts of the Great Unknown

What on Earth had happened?

You had had an argument with Thorin. Then Gandalf had stepped in, and your sight had gone black. And now here you were, laying on the ground, feeling like something was off. You opened your eyes slowly and then glanced up, seeing every member of Company still up, neither looking down at you in shock, or Gandalf and Thorin. Those two were still talking, or rather arguing.

"I do not know what happened!" Gandalf almost shouted. Thorin glanced down at you angrily and when he noted that you were awake, his scowl softened.

"Well, make sure what happened and fix this. It is bad enough that she is travelling with us as it is" Thorin said, glanced down at you and then he walked back to his place next to the rock, near his nephews. Everyone else glanced back down at you one last time and then they set up to the night, Gloin taking the next watch.

You scoffed, as you saw the healer set to on his sleepingback for the night. Shouldn't he check whatever you were hurt or not, or was it that indifferent to him? You let out a snarl, that sounded like growl. A fucking growl. Gandalf set down to sit next to you, sighing. He pet your back, causing something to move end of your butt. You turned to look and saw a tail at the end of an hairy back. Then you turned to look at the wizard, a mild panic taking over you.

The hell had just happened?!

That was your body you had just seen, right?!

And you had just growled, like animal!

"Calm down, (Y/n). It seems I accidentally turned you into a dog" Gandalf murmured, looking at you very, very, apologetically. You let out a huff, looking at your body. Yes, you seemed to be a dog, like Gandalf had just said. Your legs, sides, stomach and under your tail was covered in white/light grey fur, and your back (probably going over your head) and top of your tail was covered in dark, almost black fur.

"I look like a Husky" you murmured, setting your head between your front paws. Gandalf was wondering quietly, whatever you had just said. Then he bemoan how he couldn't understand dog's language. And then it hit you. You were a dog. No one, and literally meaning no one, could understand a words you said.

Whatever this was good or bad, you weren't sure. But, alas, the worst had happened to you, or so it seemed, and now you didn't even know what to do. But to be angry to the wizard.

The next morning company kept ignoring you as much as they had done when you were a human. You received your share of the breakfast, but now you had to walk since even Gandalf refused to take you on his horse. You were murmuring curses, literally. No one could understand you, anyways. After cursing and murmuring for a long time one of the ponies had turned its head towards you and begged you to be quiet.

And that had been the most awkwardest moments in your life.

You could understand the ponies! You apologized from the pony, then explained that you were actually a human and hadn't gotten used to walk so much in one day. The ponies sighed. They had seen what had happened and were sorry for what happened to you. And for the walking, well...

"Welcome to our life, lass" Dwalin's pony said. You looked at it, shocked. Even they called you lass! Whatever they took it from the dwarves, you weren't sure. But they were surely nicer than the dwarves, even saying they were sorry how their riders acted towards you. Not sure what to say or do, you just simply said it was alright, that it was not their fault how the dwarves acted.

The next time you came to a stop and made camp, Gloin murmured how it might be nice how you'd be a human and would help him and Oin to gather the firewood.

"Well that's too bad, my dear dwarf. Last time I tried to help you, I was a freak and a weirdo and my help wasn't needed" you said and ignored Gloin's gaze. It felt weird to understand the dwarves, when they couldn't understand you. But the ponies could understand them too. So you weren't sure if you could still understand English because you had been an human before.

You set yourself in shadows of the trees, away from the heating sun. Now when you had thick, fluffy fur, you got hot easily. Sure it kept you warm in night, but the heating sun was getting on you. And it was only a spring now. You didn't even dare to think, how hot it would be in summer.

You lift your head when you note the old dwarf, Balin, come to you with a bowl in his hands. He sets it down next to you and smiles to you.

"Thought you might be thirsty. Haven't seen ye drink anything after our little break earlier today and it has been quit a hot day today. So drink up" he said. You start to wiggle your tail and gave him a short bark as a "thank you". Then you stood and started to drink. Balin had been right, you hadn't drink anything in few hours and the heat and walking had dried your mouth. After you had drank enough, Balin took the bowl more near the camp and set it down for you again. Then he turned to look at you, rising his brows.

You tilt your head for a side for a second and then you follow him. Balin sat the end of log near the campfire Gloin had successfully started. You set down next your blow and set your nose in the cool water. Then you blow some air out through your nose. Bubbles rose and vanished after hitting to surface. You lift your nose from the bowl, looking down at it. That was... rather amusing. Now you had something to do for a few minutes, or until someone would snap at you.

Then you set your nose back down and do it again, longer this time. Bubbles rose to the surface from your nose.

"What in Mahal's name she's doin'?" you heard Dwalin murmuring. You lift your head and turned to see Dwalin sitting next to his brother, looking at you. Not glaring, just looking. A wonder on its self, but you knew that if you'd continue this, he would ask you to stop.

"Are you blind, mister Dwalin, she was blowing bubbles in the water" Kili state the obvious. Dwalin merely lift his brow and then look down at you, not so nicely.

"Oh, 'rly..." he murmured, then turned to glare the fire. You frown and look at the warrior. Then you turn back to bowl and set your nose in the water, again. Someone sneered, but you weren't sure who. You lift your head and set it on your other paw, face away from the company. No fun allowed, apparently...

"Joy killers" you murmur, thought the company could only hear you letting out disapproval sound. Balin chuckled and pent down a little to pat your back. You let your tail wiggle when he turned to scratched behind your ear.

The company was mainly sitting near the fire, while Bombur, Bofur and Bilbo were preparing the supper and Thorin, Balin, Dwalin and Gandalf were murmuring a little further away from the camp. Gandalf had murmured something about Rivendell before he had suggested to talk with Thorin and Balin. Dwalin had cram himself with them, even he wasn't asked. You knew that Gandalf wanted to go to Rivendell because of Thorin's map, but after Thorin and Dwalin had shared a look and Dwalin had even glanced at you, you wondered if the wizard had another reason for the visit.

And just like that, a new hope rose in you. Maybe the elves could help you with this... problem you had. Maybe they could help you to turn back to human and then return you back home? Or let you stay there. But, of course the leader destroyed your hopes. He came back to camp, Dwalin hot in his tail as Balin and Gandalf stayed behind, the wizard shaking his head.

"Thorin, think about it..." Gandalf tries one more time as he finally comes to camp.

"We are not going near that place" Thorin says and glares up to the wizard. You sigh and stand up, taking step towards the woods. Then you turn to look at he camp. Non of them paid any attention to you. You saw Bombur giving the ladle to Bilbo and going for Thorin, who lifts his eyes to the cook.

"We are starting to run low in meat" Bombur informs him. You heard the leader sigh, as you turn to go to the woods. Soon after you return, after taking care of your "toilet business", and you note that half of the company are up and are looking something near the camp. Then Ori sees you and turns to say something Dori, the pointing at you. Dori turns to look at you, a clear relief and a little anger clear in his eyes.

"Ah, there ye are!" Dori says. You stop and look at the company, who now return near the camp, all murmuring and glaring at you.

"We thought you ran away!" Kili finally says after sitting down, still looking startled.

"Aye, thought I don't wonder if she did try..." Gloin says, looking between you and Kili. You frown to his statement.

"... And she came back to us, because she realized she doesn't have changes to survive in the nature" Nori grosses his hands over his chest and looks down at you with knowing look.

"That is true" Dori sighs and looks at you rather sympathetically. You sit down and glare at them.

"Aye, even if she's a dog..." Fili says, putting his hands on his lap and shaking his head. You let out a little huff and turn to go back to under the tree where you had been earlier. You set yourself down and keep glaring the company. After their talk had returned back to normal, Balin turned to look for you when he noted that you weren't next to the bowl. Then he spots you under the tree and sighs. He turns back to the fire and didn't pay you any mind anymore.

You close your eyes and listen the surrounding voice's. Most of the voice's came from the company. Somewhere in the woods was a owl, calling out his mate. The wind was moving in the woods. Other than that it was quiet. You open your eyes and look at the company. Quiet and this company were something that didn't fit in one place. They couldn't be quiet even in the night, as half of the company were snoring. You close your eyes again, only to be disturbed seconds later by Bilbo, who brings you your little share of the food. You look up to him and then down the food. You had received more than usually.

You look back up to Bilbo, tilting your head in question. He smiled and pent down to ruffle your head.

"I put you a little more than the others. You need energy since you are walking all day tomorrow, so eat up!" he says. You lick his hand before standing up and starting to eat. Bilbo huffs a little laugh and then he's off to eat.

After you finish eating, you take the bowl to Bombur, who wished he had helping hands with the dishes. He glanced down at you, but was soon of to wash the dishes with Dori. Well, you HAD tried to help him once with them, but Bombur had shooed you away, too afraid that you, clumsy girl from the stars, would break something. So you just glared at him, turned and went to sleep under your tree.

"Stupid, fat dwarf" you murmur.

[lunarymagic]

11 Questions Meme

Tagged by @edgeoflight! <3  :)

Answer 11 questions and then come up with 11 of your own and tag followers.

1. What place would you visit if money and time were no object?

Japan and New Zealand seem to be a tie for me!

2. What book have you read that influenced you the most?

It’s an obvious one but: Tolkien’s books. He saved me in so many ways (and in fact, some of the things he has said about himself makes me think he too suffered from bouts of depression.) His writing never ceases to give me hope. I watched the films when they first came out before reading Lord of the Rings but I was still heavily impacted, and when I got to The Silmarillion: damn. <3

3. Tell me about a time when deciding something differently would’ve changed your whole life.

I was an Art and English double major for a year before deciding I wanted to become a pharmacist. I always wonder what would have happened if I decided to just stick with that plan (FWIW, the first semester after my change in studies was one of the biggest highlights of my life both personally and creatively. So! :D *shrugs* )

(and putting the rest behind a cut because this got so long!) 

4. What do you see as being the next big revolutionary technological innovation?

I want to see A.I. become a thing, and they are on their way. Unfortunately, governments are apparently already requesting for war machines because of fucking course. Meanwhile I’m thinking how wonderful it would be to marry a robot. Because I always was fascinated by them. I’d love to hold a philosophical conversation with a robot, at least. Why should everything be about war? That’s so primitive! Let’s have intelligent robots who can help carry humans from one room to another in hospitals while also holding friendly conversations with them! Or just keeping the sick company? Keeping elderly in nursing homes company? Keeping anyone who is lonely and doesn’t have family company?! Or nanny/babysister robots you can trust! Or even friendly robots you can just...feel safe around! Seriously, people stop being so fucking primitive we’ve had over hundreds of thousands of years of evolution just to make a fucking war machine WTF NO WONDER GOD HAS ABANDONED OUR ASSES!

*takes a deep, calming breath* I hate war. Anyhow:

5. If you reached out with your left hand, what would you touch?

A bunch of books, sketchbook, loose papers, tons of sketches, hand-drawn maps of the Ironverse, some open mail for some reason, an old tablet for some reason. Nail clipper. Is useful. Some cheap color pencils for idea sketching. And for some reason a box of unplayed-with puzzles. All stacked in a neat matter on a small table, too.

6. Which is the most important: truth, beauty, freedom, or love?

Truth is beauty, truth sets you free, and being true is to be love. So, truth! :D 

7. What’s your relationship with your parents like?

...Complicated. Well, with one of them at least. With Dad it’s pretty much good and stable and normal. With Mom it’s...it’s a roller coaster ride. Things have gotten very ugly several times before (don’t even ask about the past) but also? She has supported me in ways so-called “friends” never did and we would literally kill someone if they hurt the other even if we’re ready to mutually kill each other so...yeah, complicated! :D 

8. If I gave you a million in your own currency but told you that you couldn’t spend it on yourself – you had to give it away – what would you do with it? You can divide it up as much as you like, but you can’t keep any of it.

There are so many charities I would give to. And research funds, holy crap. If there’s anything that can help pancreatic cancer patients I would do that in particular because even with advancements in treating cancers, with there being more and more survivors now than ten, twenty years ago, PC continues to be a fast killer and I’d want for the next research focus to go on early detection and treatment.

9. Do you believe that patriotism is a good thing or a bad thing?

It depends on what we’re talking about. In the country I was born in, there are people trying to erase my entire heritage and culture and history. I’m patriotic in the sense that I will not back down, will refuse to be erased or written out of history. 

At the same time, I do live in America, am an American, and have seen the more toxic form of patriotism. There’s a balance to be reached. Patriotism when it is not about only you. When it’s love for your land but not at the expense of others or snubbing others. 

10. How would you define romance?

Ew. XD Well, that was my first thought when I saw the question! Which is weird because I’m considered shipper trash? I honestly don’t know how I would define it. I don’t care much for it in RL? And in fiction my ships come in a wide spectrum from the fluffiest shit to...the most violently abusive shit ever that I don’t even post on AO3 (yes I’m talking about the Valttu/Lalli stuff.) I just like the dynamics and that’s it I guess? I dunno! And in RL I literally do not even care or pay attention to it. Too busy making love to the Ironverse. XD

11. Imagine you are very old and dying. What do you think you will regret, if anything?

Nothing, maybe. Not because my life is perfect -- it is far from that -- but because I have learned to not ever live with regrets. Everything happens for a reason, even if it’s damn painful, and I learn something from them. That’s how I’ve lived all this time. 

And my questions:

1. Autumn or Spring?

2. What sort of dreams do you typically have?

3. Thirteen hungry dwarves have come uninvited to your house! Quick, what do you prepare for them?

4. Five songs or groups you've been into lately?

5. Would you rather be saved by an Elven prince plagued by a terrible Oath or a Space Alien princess overcome by grief?

6. This world is falling apart but a portal has opened up. Which fictional world would you like to live in for the rest of your life?

7. The most hilarious mishap you've had or had witnessed?

8. If you’re a fanfic writer: do you remember the first ever fic you ever wrote? Or if you write mainly original fic: first story? Artists: first art piece? 

9. What book or show or movie or game was dearest to your heart as a child?

10. Any book/movie/show/game rec for your followers?

11. Is the absence of evidence an evidence of absence?

And I tag: @inside-the-mountain, @pyropelove413, @superheroladies, @eatyourgrapes, @naryrising, @the-wavesinger, @squirrelwrangler, @sathinfection, @kainoliero, @independence1776, @yuuago

And, of course, anyone else who wishes to do this! :)

[shadowdianne]

"Sorry I'm late, but not really cause that woman ia an imposter!" - s!1 Emma Swan crashes the wedding; turns out she was held prisoner by the Dark Swan all this time. But then, a DOUBLE twist; H00k is still dead and that was actually Zeus who took his form, trying to bag himself a Swan... - if it's too twisted for you you can choose one of them LOL

Would you trust me if I told you that I tried to make it crackish? But I’m horrible with that and then I started writing and this happened xd I hope you like it though! Thank you for the prompt ;)

Setting; There is no Dark Fairy. They had already defeated her and the wedding is on. Emma has been a prisoner ever since the Dark Swan arc. The details about the wedding -chair placements… etc- , have been slightly diverted from canon.

(Mainly because I refuse to look at that part of the ep more than the one time I already saw it)

Also, pre-relationship.

A03 version

The air was buzzing with the mutteredconversations and sobs that floated from one side to the other of the makeshifthall and flashes could already be seen through the periphery of those seated atthe front row. That one was, by far, the quieter one as Emma finally walkeddown the aisle, white and gold on her brow, David at her side looking solely ather and Snow. The two of them looked as proud as ever with tired-rimmed eyesand Neal, peacefully asleep and looking that he didn’t plan to wake anytimesoon was happily bundled up on Snow’s arms.

They, however, were the only ones on that rowlooking that way.

Next to both Snow and Neal Henry kept glancingfrom his knees to Emma, his warm eyes raking through the woman’s form with hisjaw set and a painful sensation on the back of his mouth where his tongue waspressing his mouth’s roof. The collar of his suit felt tight around his neckand every second or so he tried to loose it only to find that it wasimpossible. He was the one who saw the first flashes directed at thenew-couple-to-be once David walked Emma to the altar, small words falling fromhis lips before he turned towards his seat, chair creaking as he took his seat.

The blinding flashes perturbed Henry but hemerely frowned, knowing that, as everything else, it would all be over soon.

Next to him there was someone however whodidn’t seem to share the sentiment and if Henry was skirmish Regina seemedabout to get sliced by tiny needles only she was able to see. Her tightlyclasped hands were covered by Zelena’s right one, the redhead pointedly staringat her younger sister once both Emma and Hook turned towards Archie. The red-headman smiled to them both before looking towards the guests, his voice beginningto rumble just as Regina’s head tilted towards her left, magic surging fromwithin her and prickling her insides until a flash of purple magic illuminatedher eyes just as she turned fully towards the aisle where both bride and fatherhad walked though mere seconds ago.

“Henry.” She muttered through gritted teeth,not even caring to explain herself when Zelena tugged at her hands, the firstcurious Storybrooke inhabitants staring openly at her instead of thecouple-to-be.

The boy, however, who had already half-turnedto look at her, never got to hear the next of that sentence since differentthings happened at the same time.

The first one was that the gentle breeze thathad been floating around, playing and bringing to them the smell of the seafrom the close shore turned into something much stronger. Regina had only thetime to unclasp her hands from Zelena’s and grab his son’s shoulder just as thenew breeze hit them with just the same hint of magic Regina had felt. Thesecond was that just as the breeze started to pool on the beginning of theaisle, just from where Emma had entered, the blonde turned and looked at it,her expression completely blank as around her the first signs of panic startedto appear. Hook followed her stare soon after but almost no one picked that upsince most of them were staring at the wind that only seemed to grow intotendrils of white silvery magic Regina could only feel tingles from.

The third and final thing that happened wasthat all of a sudden the breeze stopped, the magical buzz quieting just as afigure all the ones there recognized all too well appeared in the middle ofwhere the tendrils had been. Gasps were heard just as a blonde mane and fiery greeneyes stared back at them, hands tightly wounded into fists and every piece ofrighteous fury the woman seemed able to muster coming to them in hot waves.

Regina’s hand went slack on Henry’s shoulderbut the boy didn’t turn to look at her, unable to stare at anything else butthe second Emma Swan that was now standing in the middle of the aisle with thered leather jacket he still could remember but haven’t seen for so long drapedaround her shoulders. It was Regina, however, the one who first spoke. Albeitso faintly only Zelena and him were able to hear the soft “Emma?” She uttered.

The second Emma took a step towards were nowHook and the other her were staring back at her and rose her chin, her squaredshoulders silhouetting against the once again pristine blue sky. “Sorry I’mlate.” She said, her voice sounding tired and disused. From below the jumpershe wore and crawling up her neck there were faint red and purple markings thatmade Henry halt, his brain completely short-circuited just as his mother’s handgrabbed his shoulder again, the power crackling against his clothed shoulder.“Although I’m not really since that woman is an imposter.”

Guests gasped and Regina was able to hear howZelena muttered “Oh my.” under her breath just as Snow started to cough,seeming completely speechless just as David stood up, doing a big gesture as hewent to pick up his sword only to find too late that he wasn’t carrying it.Henry remained rooted on the spot and so he didn’t catch Hook’s uncomfortablesmile as he took a step towards the newcomer.

The Emma that had been about to get marriedwith him, however, didn’t move.

“That’s impossible.” He said with something tooclose to a smirk as some of the dwarves started to look at him instead to the newcomer.Henry looked at him too, a part of him, the one of the author craving for thequill and paper he could feel calling for them at the other side ofStorybrooke. “I would have known.”

At the sound of that that first Emma, stillclothed in white, smiled at him brightly, turning to stare at her feet thesecond he nodded at her. Henry felt wanting to gag as he felt Regina moving athis back just as the thought of that woman claiming to be Emma would be in factthe real Emma.

A horrible idea he surmised, many otherquestions swarming inside his brain; for how long? Why? Where? He, however,couldn’t bring himself to trust the woman that was clothed in a wedding dressand that alone made him swallow, feeling bitter remorse as he did so.

His thoughts were cut short however when hisother mother stood as tall as she was and moved towards the aisle, eyes glowingpurple just as that second Emma turned to look at her, shoulders visiblyshagging once green eyes found brown.

“Regina, please.” The newcomer whispered andfor a second Regina faltered, sensing not only truth but worry on those greeneyes. “You know I’m saying the truth, that woman is not me.”

The other Emma, the one who had been consideredto be real, remained painfully silent at Regina’s back and as the former queenturned, her eyes falling onto Henry’s for a second, the other guests looked as well,a second collective gasp being heard just as they saw how that first Emmaturned to look at them, merely smiling with empty eyes and posture so stiffHenry could only think in a piece of wood.

“Sweetie?” Snow asked then, her voice raisingwith a hint of doubt echoing there.

Hook moved protectively over the blonde, thesecond his hand touched her arm a wave of nausea filling not only Regina butZelena as well. Magic. Tightening their lips and pursing them into two finelines, the sisters eyed each other before Regina looked back at the newcomer, magicon her fingers just as she took one step closer to her.

“Who are you then?” She asked just as Hooksnarled.

“A liar!” The man tried to look at the ones onthe front row but all of them avoided his gaze just as the soon-to-be marriedEmma remained silent. “She probably is some sort of trick from the Dark Fairy!”

“I’m the real Emma.” Emma replied, not evenbothering to look at Hook. Her eyes were solely focused on Regina as she took astep closer, her boots scrapping the floor as she did so. The former queenrealized that even though the woman was pulling a strong upfront her movementsseemed halted and slow. Pained “Please, Regina, you need to believe me. That’snot me.”

The two of them stared at each other, everyoneelse silent around them. Emma fumbled with the sleeve of her jacket once beforenibbling her bottom lip, her blonde tresses jumping from her shoulders as shemoved her head to her left, a plea glowing on her eyes. “I told you that I cameto Storybrooke because the day Henry appeared on my doorstep I had just wishedfor some connection with the family I’ve never known. You almost threw me outStorybrooke here and there. You know it’s me. Please.”

The small smile that grew on her lips was unmistakableand Regina faltered again, her mind probing the conscious magic of the woman infront of her, the one that she had sensed before she had even appeared. Magicshe now felt seeping through her pores, as if calling her, as if calling Emma.Emma who was staring at her in the middle of the aisle and looking as if aboutto fall down.

“Em…” She started but halted just as Hookscreamed a very undignified screech that made everyone turn to look at thecouple.

The Emma that had been standing there stared atthem back with hollow eyes and a stitched bland smile, her form quickly loosingdefinition as her skin and hair began to disappear. Grey magic floated aboveher and both Snow and David took a step backwards, Snow covering Neal’s face asHenry and Zelena looked at each other.

“I think we have already our answer of who iswho.” The red-head called just as the Emma on the aisle collapsed, her copyback at the altar transformed into nothing else but a rag doll.

                                                      -.-

“I think you owe me an explanation.” Hook wassaying the second Regina entered in her living room, warm bowl of soup on herhands.

After what had happened the wedding had beencalled off and everyone who had any kind of connection with Emma had retreatedto Regina’s house in where the brunette had quickly put the blonde to sleep onher couch while barking instructions to Zelena, not even stopping to look twiceat the Charmings who eyed alternatively the doll and the now sleeping daughterwhose labored breath had echoed through the entire room.

The blonde had awoken soon after they had allstarted to discuss what had happened and through her parched lips she had askedfor a glass of water Regina had quickly offered, her eyes only focused on thewoman she had in front of her. The magic she still could sense coming from herfelt fragile and brittle, as if something about to break and for that she keptthrowing glances at the doll, now nothing more but a heap of rags.

Emma had remained tight-lipped of what hadhappened to her until Regina had touched her wrists, unable to stay away as shehealed the marks on her neck and chest. Once that had been over the blonde hadsmiled faintly before asking for something to eat. That had been where theformer queen had go to and she bristled at the sound of Hook’s voice. To hersurprise, however, it was precisely Emma who answered him, voice tired butstrong enough to reach her just as she placed the bowl soup on a tray.

“I own you nothing.”

“We only want to know what happened.” Snow saidsoothingly just as Regina placed the bowl in front of Emma. The blonde smiledat her once before muttering a soft thank you, eyes trained on the soup as ifshe had never seen anything more beautiful than that.

It was strange, the brunette caught herselfwondering, how once the imposter had disappeared everything that had made theblonde…. Emma, had returned. As if it had never truly disappeared it.

“We can wait if you need.” Regina said, notseeing neither Snow’s and David’s shared glance nor Zelena’s smirk anddefinetely not Hook’s furibund stare.

Emma, however, did and so she shook her head,swallowing before starting to talk once again.

“I created her.” She said while pointing at thedoll; it didn’t resemble her anymore but all of the ones listening felt ashiver as they stared at it, as if it was something they weren’t supposed tolook at. “Back when I was the Dark One.”

“Why?” Henry asked and Emma threw at her a shyglance before continuing it, her eyes carefully avoiding Hook as she did so.

“I had planned on using her to take my place. Istarted to plan it back on Camelot but then… everything changed.”

“You divided your power.” Regina muttered underher breath, eliciting a small nod from the blonde.

“After that I didn’t get to make her work. Imanaged to create an image of myself but I couldn’t… make her look alive, notas if I was me at least. I had wanted to give you that as I started to losemyself but then we all returned to Storybrooke and I wasn’t even the same DarkOne I had thought I would be.”

“Because you saved me, love.” Hook interjected,trying to grab Emma’s hand only for the blonde to growl.

“Once we returned here I forgot about her untilmy power started to get volatile. I had her hidden at one magically created timepocketand when I went to retrieve her and destroy her once and for all… she attackedme. Told me that she needed to be the one I had her asked to be.”

“Golems are always nasty business.” Zelena chippedin from her corner of the room and even if Regina shot her a dark glance shecouldn’t but think the same.

Emma, however, didn’t seem to mind theinterruption because she merely nodded. “I was too surprised and by the time Imanaged to get to the entrance of the time pocket… she was gone. And with hermy ability to cross back here. I’ve been there ever since.”

“How did you broke free?” Snow asked, elicitinga half-shrug from her daughter.

“If it was the Dark Swan the one who createdthe pocket once that part of her magic was destroyed the power around it musthave started to get less effective.” Regina answered for Emma, eyes till completelyfocused on her. She was staring, she knew that, she also found herselfcompletely unable to look at anything else as wave after wave of relief washedover her. “How were you able to know where we were?”

Emma blushed at the question and took anotherspoonful of soup before answering. “Dreamcatchers. I had a few there hidden,just in case.”

“But you…” Hook started and it was then whenRegina truly saw an Emma she had thought she wasn’t there anymore. Pale withfury the blonde snarled at him only to speak through clenched teeth.

“Last time I knew you tried to kill my family.I don’t care what she told you, Hook.I don’t want to see you again.”

“But…”

“You heard her.” Regina said, not evenbothering to look at Hook as she spoke. The pirate seemed about to saysomething but as he tried to caught anyone’s stares he found himself alone, noone even looking at him as Emma finished the last of her soup.

“This is not over.” He said piteously. “Youtold me you loved me.”

“Not anymore.”

Hook left, muttering curses under his breathand insults none of the ones inside the room really got the time to listen.Which, considering who the pirate was was probably for the best.

“So…” Emma started before being cut off by Snowand David, the two of them hugging Emma tightly. Chuckling, the blonde lookedat both Henry and Regina over her parents’ shoulders. “How are you?”

Henry beamed. However it was the brunette womanwho spoke.

“Better.” Regina replied without thinking. “Muchbetter.”

And she kept staring until she needed to lookaway, small smile on her lips and magic running through her fingers.

“Me too.” Emma whispered and Regina knew shewas telling the truth.

[diceandlipstick-blog]

Waterdeep: Dragon Heist Session Six Recap!! 2/19/2019

The session brings us again with introductions to new people and good bye to others. Our Critical Fails heading to the opera to watch the Fall of Tiamat,  sung in Giant. During the intermission, Marvo went to Private Box C and met with Mirt, who offered him entry into the faction The Harpers. (See Handout for full information on this faction.) He accepted and was given a mission to seek out a talking horse and gain information from her. "One of the drays working in the city is pulled by a talking mare named Maxeene. Locate her, find out if she's learned the identity of any Zhent operatives, and if so, determine their whereabouts."  At the end of the show, Vjara, the Blackstaff comes to the party, with two dwarves, Torgus Hillclimber, an Eldritch Knight Fighter, and Azril Poldark, an Oath of the Ancients Paladin. Tamshu went back to theBlackstaff and claimed the party needed more "meat shields". And the couple being professionals offered up their services, to see if they could maybe find a place with this ragtag team. Inviting them back to the manor, the group heads to the manor for some rest and relaxation, which most got while Torgus raids the wine, with the help of Azril.  They head to bed and the next morning, the entire group must fend for themselves, Togus having insulted Lif and the music box that Tamshu had made for him as an apology for burning the bar top. While all were eating and discussing their activities for the day, Marvo dons his disguise with expert care. Taking on the persona of an old woman named Edith, he headed off to see a horse about a man, or woman. Several hours of travels and asking questions and eavesdropping he finds Maxeene, eating happily in her stall. She is resistant at first but then she tells him, after a bribe of an apple and the old woman persistence, about a human man and half orc woman, speaking of hiring spies to root out Xanathar Guild hideouts in the city. From her descriptions of these folk Marvo recognizes the man as Davil Starsong, and the female orc as Yagra Stonefist. (Dirge is gonna be sad.) Going to the Yawning Portal, which is where Yagra is usually found and where Maxeene dropped off the two in question, Marvo finds Mirt at the bar relaying the information. For this job, Marvo receives 1 renown for the Harpers.  

During Marvo's travels the group back at home decide to explore the neighborhood once again, particularly the Book Wyrm's Treasure.  As they traveled toward the end of their street, a dressed as a commoner stands outside a small building, begins speaking angrily at the entire group. "So you're the group who bought my manor." He introduces himself as Emmek Frewn and states that Volo took the building out from under him. (He doesn't openly suggest that he hates the group, but he is hostile and adamant that Trollskull Manor was supposed to be his.) He goes on to accusing the group of taking his property and in a very aggressive manner tells them that they will not be good in their business and they will pay for taking his building. He intends to open his own inn and tavern named Frewn's Brews and although the building is smaller than Trollskull Manor, he fails to realize the goldmine he is sitting on, given he has less work to do to his place. Once he realizes he is outnumbered and his threats have crossed a line, he runs into his home and locks himself in and refuses to open up for the dwarves when they decide they want to scope out the inside of his tavern. After a bit of harassment on the dwarves part, they leave Emmek alone and head to the book store. The owner, the gold dragonborn named Rishaal the Page-Turner, delighted and kind as always greets his neighbors happily. Sylvar reminds him of his promise to search his collection of books, which he produces a large leather bound book, titled: Dragon's Lengends, Lores and Myths. He expresses that the book is old, and his only copy and that he will happily lend it to her, but she must return it and take great care with the book. Delighted she heads deeper into the shop to search for the manor's first book, choosing a gaming book called Dungeons & Dragons. Yossuck also asks about the information he requested of the shop owner and is handed a child's picture book titled: Baphomet: Demon Lord of the Minotaur. Buying the book he gives Rishaal a list of topics he would like information on, Carpentry, stone working and glassblowing.  Rishaal promises to seek out some books for him that he will have handy for him when he returns. For Dirge, he sells him a book titled: A Cleric's Guide to Saving Lives.

As the group heads out of the shop, Azril accosts an old woman as she heads west down the street, although her intentions are good and she is mainly concerned for the safety of her new found group. (I think, or hope that was it.) Unbeknownst to Azril this woman was Edith, Marvo in disguise. Once Edith convinces Azril that she is in fact a harmless old lady, Edith winks at her and mentions meeting again. During dinner back at the manor, which Lif has cleaned and prepared food for all, thanks to Renaer sending a delivery of food and drink for the group for a couple of weeks, Marvo repeats his comment to Azril with a wink. This triggers a mistrust with Azril and she decides while Marvo heads out to "tend to the cats", she is going to investigate his belongings. She enters his room, attempting to be quiet, she finds his room is now a make shift sex dungeon. She heads quickly to his bathroom, and finds the prosthetics and cloak made of the wheat and corn sacks, which confirms her suspicions that Marvo is up to something and Master of Disguises. She quickly leaves his room and heads back to her own. Once Marvo is finished with the cats he returns with 7 men, bringing them to his room and getting them settled, then donning some assless chaps, no shirt, and a Freddy Mercury stage prance, goes room to room to invite his party members to his last minute orgy. Sylvar, Azril, Torgus, Dirge andYossuck all decline as politely as possible, though he expresses his door is "open" should anyone change their minds. Loud porn music plays through the night, and those who are not involved in the sex fest, cope with it how they can.

[writings-of-a-crazy-lady]

Forgotten

Chapter Eight

@everyjourneylove

The travel was exhausting but Dalura refused to allow her posture to change.  She remained stoic and strong, watching as the others spoke about random things.  They also had a habit of making bets, one involving Bilbo rather amusing to her. But she remained silent, as promised, only giving a snort as response when asked a question.  Soon though, they finally stopped for the night, several of the dwarves making a fire and starting a meal near a cliff’s edge.

Dalura sat away from the group, discreetly rubbing her back.  It had been awhile since she rode a pony and she had forgotten the pain when trying to get back into it.  Still, it was a nice change from the Shire, having to dress a certain way or act another. Even though she wished…

It didn’t matter.  All she knew was that she would gladly take another path.  Traveling with the company was a different experience than she was use too.  Nori, Ori, and Dori were nice and Dori seemed to have the better manners than the others.  Then there was Bifur and Bofur, one the silent one then another that would constantly tell stories.  And of course, Bombur, the one with the appetite.  Gloin and Oin, the two that seemed to have the most battle experience compared to the others.  Kili and Fili were one of the younger dwarves and she knew she had to watch out for them, knowing both of them were the biggest pranksters she ever met.  

But then there were two others, Dwalin and Balin.  For some reason, both registered in her head, in a memory long past.  She knew them, knew them somehow but the harder she would focus, the more her head were hurt.  She eventually had to stop trying, the pain becoming too much for her.  But she would try again later.

And finally, aside from herself and Bilbo, was the leader of their company.

Thorin Oakenshield.

He was the one that she had the most problems with, constantly catching him glaring at her and even bumping into her on purpose.  She had, at one point, even rode further ahead of him to check the path, only to receive a rebuttal from the grumpy dwarf.  She responded with a quick heel to his toe, pretending that she lost her footing to avoid further issues.  Regardless, she was beginning to hate the leader and had thought of putting an arrow between his eyes to get him to back off.  

“Your disguise is good, my lady.  You almost had me fooled,” a voice forced her back to stiffen, her hooded head snapping in the direction of the voice.  The tall one, known as Gandalf, sat next to her, a look of amusement gracing his features. He smoked on a pipe, his fingers gingerly holding it.  She learned he was a wizard, so was not surprised that he figured it out.

“It was best, since the idea of a woman traveling with men would be frowned upon,” she whispered. Gandalf chuckled before glancing at the others that were too occupied arguing over the food.  She found it amusing, almost familiar, but amusing none the less.

“Yes, of course,” Gandalf nodded.  “May I know your real name?”

“Dalura,” she spoke after a minute, somehow knowing that she could trust the wizard.  Gandalf suddenly choked on his pipe before glancing at the little one hiding next to him in surprise.    

“I am to presume the Lady Dalura Metalcloak?” he finally spoke after he cleared his throat. Dalura found herself at a loss for words, suspicion sinking in.  Not many knew her full name and it bothered her that someone she barely knew did.

“How did you know?” she questioned, watching as Gandalf relit his pipe.  He remained quiet, trying to hide the pain in his chest for a moment before looking at her hooded head.

“Because, my dear, you and Thorin were supposed to be married before Smaug destroyed Erebor.”

“Married?  To that barbarian?” her complete disbelief was palpable, eyes going wide at she looked toward Thorin.  He was too busy keeping watch, uncaring of the other wandering eyes that snapped to him.

“Yes, though you loved him more than anything.”

“I don’t remember ever being able to love such a horrid man!” she whispered harshly.  Gandalf chuckled, leaning back against a tree. He found this rather amusing.  It was well known who Thorin Oakenshield’s One was and that she was presumed to have perished in the fire.  Instead, he found himself sitting next to her on an adventure to reclaim their homeland, very much alive.

“I can assure you, my lady, that you did love him and that you still do.  I have seen the way you stare at him, as if he means much to you. Like an ache that you cannot get rid of except through him,” Gandalf muttered, watching the woman flinch.  He knew how the dwarves felt toward their Ones and the feelings that were involved.  No one could reject or hide those emotions no matter how hard they tried.

Dalura found herself falling silent.  She had forgotten those little moments.  Several times, she found herself staring at the leader.  She knew him, recognized him in some way.  But it never would come to her.  No matter how many times she would focus, nothing would register with her. But the old wizard was right. Something about this dwarf registered with her heart and caused her to miss him terribly.  Like an old wound that never healed.  And something about the story Balin told them, when Fili and Kili mentioned Orcs and Thorin snapped at them… it hit her rather roughly.  She even touched her arm, an old scar bringing up a flash of something in her past.  Orcs… near Erebor…

“It does not matter,” Dalura found her voice cracking, a part of her sinking to the pit of her stomach as she pushed that particular memory away.  “Not anymore.”

“I am sure, my lady, that this journey will grant you what you have been seeking,” Gandalf responded to her, smoking at his pipe in thought.  Yes, this could turn out in his favor.  Gandalf had feared that this journey could end the line of Durin, the fears of the past constantly haunting him.  But this little revelation could work in his favor.

“You must be patient.”

“It’s all I have,” she answered him quickly, defensively.  Gandalf did not press her as they got use to the silence between them, merely ignoring her like the others.  But the old wizard knew that he would have to keep an eye on things even more so.

“Tonks?”

Dalura glanced up slightly, spotting her cousin nearby.  She could see that he was fidgeting, confusing her slightly until she spotted the box in his hands.  It was her bead box and she couldn’t help but to reach up, touching her hair and feeling how light the strands were.  

“They won’t notice if you disappear for a moment,” Gandalf chuckled, seeing the young Halfling fidget. He received a snort as an answer but it did not take long for the two to disappear.  And as he thought, not a single dwarf noticed them slipping away.

0000000000000

Bilbo finished adding the last bead, watching as she sighed in enjoyment.

“You seem happier now,” he watched as Dalura stood, her hands running over her hair in enjoyment.

“Of course.  I love each of these beads.  Especially these two,” Dalura touched the two she was fond of most, one she recognized and the other she didn’t.  Bilbo nodded before standing up, stretching his back.  They had spent some time away from the others, just talking about silly little things.  Dalura admitted to receiving some flashbacks, blurry and undefined, but the two were grateful that something was beginning to awaken within her. Still, Bilbo was sure the others were beginning to wonder about them and he didn’t need any rumors spreading.  

“Well, I think I’ll join the others.”

“I’ll stay here a moment longer,” Dalura looked back at Bilbo, a sad smile on her lips as something dawned on her.  “To relax without a cloak.  Without having to hide.”

“Of course,” Bilbo nodded before walking back to the group.  Dalura turned back to look out over the cliff, her eyes scanning the horizon. Hiding was beginning to take hold on her, somehow finding it sad.  And again, she felt a pain that she was not familiar with.  Something about the leader of their company.  It was… confusing.  Even more so, flashes of blurry memories surfaced then, somehow the young Halfling knowing that they were coming.  She remembered Balin and a training room, Dwalin also being present. And another dwarf, a male she felt anger at in that room before it changing to feeling fire and pain.

Dalura flinched, her fingers trailing to her side.  The pain was familiar.  She didn’t know how the Elves knew but they said she survived an injury that none could claim.  She had somehow missed being burned alive, only receiving the aftermath of the flames on her skin.  Her back was mainly disfigured, parts of tissue scarred from the hell she received.

“Ah, there ya are laddie. We were beginning to worry.”

She turned at the voice, her eyes going wide as Balin appeared from the other side of the brush. He paused, meeting her gaze as disbelief took over his features.  She found it rather amusing though.  She remembered him and the first time she saw him.  The day he told Dwalin to watch the words he spoke in front of her.

“It cannot be,” Balin whispered, his voice choking.  “Lass, is it really…Lady Dalura?”

“Hello Balin,” she whispered, the elder dwarf rushing toward her.  He hugged her close before cupping her face in his hands.  

“All this time and we thought you were lost in the ruins.  But you’re here,” Balin smiled, turning toward the camp.  “The others-“

“No, please,” Dalura stopped him, her sad eyes forcing the dwarf to pause.  “I…was not lying about losing my memory, Balin.  I don’t want to upset the others if I don’t know them.”

“I see.  But surely someone else.”

“Dwalin.  I remember Dwalin a bit.”

“Which is a good thing too!” a gruff voice harshly whispered.  Dalura glanced behind Balin, seeing the said dwarf stalking his way to her. His rough hands lifted her up off the ground, pulling the woman into a rough hug.  Dalura tried her hardest to hug him back, wondering what to do, but she let it go when she felt his shoulders shake.

“I thought I failed yer da and Thorin.  It was my fault ya went to him first.  Lead ya to yer death,” Dwalin sniffled, taking her by surprise.  Dalura instead shushed him, her hands rubbing what she could get of his back.

“I’m okay, Dwalin. It’s fine.”

“Why didn’t ya send for us?” Dwalin put her down, rubbing his eyes to erase the tears he didn’t want the others to see.  “We would have came for ya!”

Dalura shifted on her feet, her hands twisting together.  She knew they wouldn’t take the news well but they deserved to know the truth.

“Because I was on death’s door,” she answered, watching the horror transform their features.  “I did not escape Erebor unscathed.  If it hadn’t been for a few Elves who decided to look for survivors, then I may have died.”

“Elves, in Erebor?”

“They were migrating back home.  But they heard of the tragedy and heard of the betrayal from Thranduil.  They entered the mountain quietly,” she shivered as a familiar jolt took her by surprise, “and found me in the rubble.  I was severely injured by the fire of…of…”

“Take your time, lass. Don’t force them,” Balin tried to be reassuring, though it pained him to see this.  His lady had lost her memories and he had heard that regaining them should come naturally.  Forcing them could cause more harm than good.

“Smaug,” she whispered so softly that Balin had to strain to hear her.  But the dragon’s name was enough to make the two flinch in fear of the pain she endured.

“His fire hit my back, burning the dress I wore and my flesh.  I remember the pain, such agony, but nothing else.  I had been unconscious for months, apparently transferred from one Elven kingdom to another.  I stopped at one particular one ran by a kind Elf lord, who cared for me until I awakened,” Dalura gripped her side, where the scarred tissue of her back reached. It was horror waking up, screaming in agony.  She couldn’t lay on her back for several weeks afterwards and was barely able to move. “Only after I had healed properly did they send me to the Shire.  It’s the only thing I truly remember save the name Erebor.  I don’t know anything else.  Of course, before I went, I learned how to shoot a bow and fight with a dagger more effectively.”

“As much as I dislike you fighting with us, I am grateful.  We would not have seen you again had you not weaseled your way in,” Balin chuckled.  Dalura smiled fondly toward the dwarf before looking toward the camp of the others. They watched her furrow her brows before sighing, rubbing at her temple.  She wanted to remember but she couldn’t.  She was too tired to care at this moment….

“Balin, Dwalin! Thorin’s wondering where you…..By Mahal!”

“Oh no,” Dalura whispered, looking toward a dark haired dwarf.  Kili was stood frozen, staring wildly at her as if he had never seen a woman. It took him only a minute to spot the cloak she had worn before looking at her, then the cloak again.  Seconds turned into minutes until it clicked, Kili turning on his heel.

“Now just one second laddie!” Dwalin stomped toward Kili, lifting the younger dwarf by his collar with one hand.  The other dived into a bush, lifting another dwarf from within by the collar as well. Only this one was blonde.

“Don’t you two go spoiling things.  She needs time!” Dwalin carried the two in front of her, forcing the boys to acknowledge her existence.  Balin made it even more uncomfortable for the three as he added, “Now boys, I want you to meet your Aunt Dalura.  Show her respect.”

“Aunt?”

“Dalura?”

“You mean,” the two shared a look, speaking at the same time, before looking at her with a silly grin.

“It’s true then.  Some said you had to have survived the fall of Erebor,” Kili started.

“Your stubbornness was one to rival that of Uncle Thorin’s,” Fili finished.  Dalura gave a breathy laugh before nodding in agreement.

“Thorin and I did have differences in opinions quite often,” she smiled fondly before allowing it to falter, a hand going to her head.  She felt a migraine beginning, her head feeling like it was splitting in half.

“Deep breath, lass. It’s okay,” Balin gripped her shoulders, holding her upright as she leaned over with a groan.  

“Is she alright, Balin?”

“Now boys, you both need to keep this between us.  Dalura lost her memories and she is slowly gaining them back,” Balin then grinned, adding, “Consider this a surprise for your uncle.  Something you helped with.”

Fili and Kili shared knowing looks before nodding enthusiastically.  The idea of knowing something their uncle would kill for gave them the incentive to keep it even more so.  But Kili surprised them all by hugging her.

“I’m glad to know your alive.  Mum always talked fondly of you.  But she would love to meet you herself instead of going by memories Thorin refuses to discuss,” he whispered to her.  Dalura nodded before shooing off the boys, watching as they left with giggles and whispers of how to torment their uncle.  Dalura shook her head before walking to collect her cloak.  She wrapped it around her shoulders, sighing deeply before looking at the two.

“One day, my lady. One day you won’t have to wear it.”

She sighed again.

“Hopefully soon.”

[ten-summoners-fails]

For the Silmarillion themed question : 6, 8, 13, 22 and 24 :)

6. Would you have followed Fëanor?

Without any doubt orhesitation, yes; even if I saw in advance all the pain and regret it wouldcause me (and others). Personal evolution happens through trying, failing,making mistakes, falling into the darkest pits of our own mind, then getting upon our feet and trying again. Other than that, I can imagine situations where Iwould follow a real-life version of Feanor even; with my deepest personalvalues questioned every day, I admit that I often have just the mood to get upand change the world. I’m afraid of the day when I might eventually acknowledgethat I can’t.

8. Who is your favourite character from the book?(You CAN’T cheat like me, it must be JUST ONE)

In that case, I refuse toanswer this question, because I can’t choose one. It seems impossible. Either Ican say I have a dozen favourites, or I can say I have none. Those who followmy blog and read my writings probably already know that the Sons of Feanor areamong my favourites, but so is half the royal court of Gondolin, so are theinhabitans of Rivendell, and so is Bilbo Baggins (even if he doesn’t appear inthe Silmarillion).

(Most of you probablythink that my favourite is Maedhros, and maybe you could really say that; butthe truth is not that simple. Of course I, like everyone else, am sometimes„plagued” by favoritism, but I prefer to say neutral on some level and merelywrite about the characters who I find interesting. The best example for this isprobably the case of Maeglin: I don’t entirely understand him and I can’tidentify with him either, but still he continues to intrigue me, therefore Iwrite about him. Another such example would be Saruman, who literally makes mecringe, but that didn’t stop me from creating an entire thread for him in theold version of my ’A Tale from Rivendell’ series, merely because making him appear,think and act was fascinating. I like challenges).

13. A character you don’t like and why.

I greatly admire Lúthienand Beren, and I find their tale mesmerizing (no wonder it’s so carefully anddelicately handled in ’The Seven Gates’), but with all due respect, I don’treally like either of them.Especially Lúthien. To be very honest, I don’t care about her that much, andmany of her actions seem a but too „ex machina”. I mean, there’s a bit of animpression that the tale of Beren and Lúthien is set in some standaloneuniverse, where certain rules of the actual Silm universe don’t apply, andwhere several characters act in an absolute OOC manner (like Celegorm andCurufin. But that would be a long story, and it’s not like I’m defending orpalliating them, either!). Also, neither Beren nor Lúthien seems half as vividas, for one, Thingol. Or even Eöl!

However, I must alsoacknowledge that I have developed most of my way of viewing The Silm throughreading the tale of Beren and Lúthien, which has led me to create the notion of„second degree mythology” but that’s entirely another story, and I’d rather notbore you with it now.

22. If you could marry one of Fëanor’s sons whichone would you choose?

Is „none” an option? :D:D

All right, all right. Sincethey are all sociopaths on some level, I’ll stay superficial and choose Maglor,just because I picture him as the kind of lover who dresses elegantly, holdsyou the door, calls you „mlady” from time to time and greets you by kissing theback of your hand. (And he makes music). I would like that.

24. Why do you think that the race of men are theonly one that never went to Valinor besides the orcs?

…so basically you’reasking me why we have Gimli and the Hobbits going to Valinor, and never mortalMen – I mean, not Earendil-like Men, but actually „real” Men, without any Elvenblood? Huh. Are you sure you want me to answer that? OK. Let’s study some HoME,LaCE and other beautiful things together, then.

First of all, let me admitthat my independent knowledge is not very deep in this particular matter; inorder to be truly able to explain it, I would have to reread quite a fewletters and studies, which I can’t manage right now, but I’ll tell you what Ican. (And of course, my own opinion).

If we want to answer whyMen did not go to Valinor, we need to see why others did. Starting with the obvious: I see the case of Elves as a trulyunique one, and here is why.

Firstly – of all beings -,we have the Valar and maiar, beings who are more closely connected to„supernatural” dimensions of existence than material ones. Their knowledge and insightmay seem inhuman, and (especially in the case of Manwe) very close to omniscience, butthat is not the case. In my opinion, everything they know or guess in advancecomes from the impressions and sensations they’ve had during the Ainulindale,which set the frames of past, present and future and created the dimensions oftime and space. At that point, they could have had impressions on what wasabout to happen, and what was the general purpose of the Allfather (even if thevery essence, the entirety of the world’s fate remained in secret, a secret evenManwe could not tell). And when it comes to the maiar, it’s practically thesame case – only, they’re less powerful beings. Still, they have much lessconnection to the material world than other beings do, and are mostly „chained”to the eternal echoes of the Great Music, right from the birth of the world.

Elves, however noble and powerful,are no such creatures: their existence is strongly and inseparatablyintertwined with that of Arda. The world, initially, was meant to be perfectand functionating, but the machinations of Melkor sort of ruined those plans(well… this is a quite fascinating subject, we could argue a lot about that;recently, I had the honor to witness a lecture of a Tolkien scholar onIllúvatar’s notions of free will and free decisions, and how Melkor tried tointerfere in his plans; the question if he succeeded or not was an open one,and honestly, no one in the room could answer it at the end of the discussion.But whatever!!). All in all, Elves are bound to remain young in body (but notin spirit) and live on, as long as Arda lives. This is the manner of theircreation, and the fact that their body doesn’t age and is immune to maladies,sicknesses and lighter wounds is – in truth – no more than a biological defensemechanism (if you don’t believe me, please consult LaCE). Also (my friendnosmaeth has re-drawn my attention to this fact recently), there is not ONEline in the ENTIRETY of the Professor’s works which states that they are immortal!They simply live on, or, if you prefer, continueexisting – while Arda exists.

What does this mean?Mainly that they are f*cked. Sorry for the strong word, but really. Severalmillenia of joys and sorrows just weighs hard on one’s shoulders, and requiresan inhuman mindset (one I always have a hard time showing in writings, or inany other way. Yup. Elves are not superhumans, but entirely another race…).

Dwarves, Men and allother mortal races, however, were given the Gift of Illúvatar – death – which allowsthem to free themselves from the chaines of Arda marred, and reach directly outto the Creator when they leave the Circles of the World. This basically meansthat they have access to a sort of entire healing and absolution Elves wouldhave trouble seeking. Mortals – and especially men – were given the gift ofbeing able to purge themselves from everything wrong Melkor ever did to theworld.

So why could Frodo, Bilbo,Gimli and Sam go to Valinor? If you ask me, the privileges they got had nothingto do with their race. Mortal Men could have perhaps earned this sort of gift ifthey were Ringbearers, and the fact that no Man happened to have this role inthe history of Middle-Earth does not imply that Men didn’t go to Valinor simplybecause they were Men, or it was not the fate of their race. What happened toBilbo, Frodo and Sam was exceptional, and sort of made them leave the frames oftheir own purpose and existence. They – along with Gimli - could go to Valinorbecause they were members of the Fellowship of the Ring; and the three Hobbits,in addition, were Ringbearers. They’ve seen and endured things that could notbe healed in Middle-Earth; the Blessed Lands were the only possible cure forthe wrongs they’ve suffered, and thusly, they were given this gift. As forGimli, we could argue if his arrival to Valinor was some Galadriel-ex-machina,or was simply granted to him because of his remarkable friendship with Legolasand his service as a member of the Fellowship. Returning to Men… Aragorn andBoromir were the only Men in the fellowship; Boromir would have never gone toValinor, and Aragorn was destined to another fate.

Speaking of Men ingeneral: if we go back as far in time as the very history of Númenor, sailingto Valinor was the very thing the Valar forbid them. To explore the mostobvious reason behind this, I could very well quote the Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth (from the HoME series): „Do candles pity moths? / Or moths candleswhen the wind blows them out?” – Valinor could have had the very sameeffect on Men as the company of Elf-lords did as mentioned by Sador Labadal (inthe Children of Húrin), among others: it could drain them out, diminish theirpowers too quickly, before they would be able to reach the fullness of theirown human potential. Also, one cannot have the Gift of Illúvatar and theblessings of Valinor at the same time.

Gosh anon, I could haveonly said that „Men couldn’t go to Valinor because it was not their fate”, butI wanted to draw a bit of background to it… hope I didn’t scare you off. Andthank you for asking!

[darth-salem-emperor-of-earth]

OC Kiss Week Contenders

In the past, I have made some Character Logs for which character is going to partake in the previous OC Kiss Weeks so I’ll do another one here. I’ll probably overflow this post with way too many OCs but oh well, I like distributing variety. I won’t use my still developing Inquisitor Lavellan or my SWTOR/KOTOR/SW or WoW characters just yet. I still need more time with them. So send me a request for any of my OCs with yours and if there is a certain day or theme you want for our two characters, let me know so I can begin writing. Or you can snatch any of these OCs up for one of your own OCs, I don’t mind. These babies are up for grabs. And crossovers are certainly welcomed! 

And if anyone is interesting in my old Van Helsing OCs (Egil, Rolf, Gabriele, Thanatos, and Morfran), just let me know. I didn’t included them in here because not many people know or care about them and I needed to get this postout before ockiss17 commences. 

7kpp/Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem

Lady Ethel of Hise (F) [Heterosexual]: Ethel is a free spirit who loves adventure, exploring new places, and of course, collecting flowers, herbs, and other plants. She’ll probably make you flower crown and other flowery ornaments for a fun. Right before boarding a ship just to feel the wind against her face and smell the heady brine of the ocean.

Lady Zarina of Jiyel (F) [Asexual/Pansexual]: Zarina is rather subdued, preferring to consult her books than with people but make no mistake, she is not distant. If anyone needs her aid, be they noble or common, Zarina will see what she can do and offer them a shoulder to cry on.Also, she thirsts to read anything she can her hands on and this can only be matched by her desire to travel abroad and see the world from her own eyes than from the pages of a tome. Logic means the world to her and she likes using her brains to get out any sticky situation.

Lady Yvonne of Corval (F) [Heterosexual]: Yvonne loves to play the “game” and thrives in court. She masks her true emotions and thoughts but does allow herself to dream of a romance or be in a relationship where she can trust her inner musings and opinions to her spouse without her foes knowing. She’s quite persuasive, insightful, charming, and likable, and can pry any secret from your lips with the right words, smile, or gesture. It’s better to have her as your friend than your foe, for she’s pretty clever and perceptive in figuring out people’s strengths and weaknesses. 

Lady Anne (Boleyn) of Revaire (F) [Heterosexual]: Duty to her family has been ingrained into her, resulting in a marriage at a young age to an older man, which later left her a widow. She believes she has done her duty and this time, if she were to remarry, it will be for love or on her terms only. She’s bit of a romantic and has trouble containing her emotions--she is known for her temper. However, she loves learning new ideas, considers her education important, and is a well rounded and cultured young lady.  

Lady Jazlyn of Hise (F) [Pansexual]: Takes no prisoners and makes sure she is chummy with the wealthy or powerful people. Jazlyn doesn’t care for too many people, she is overly protective of her father, loathes her mother, and loves manipulating people to suit her needs. She has no qualms in killing someone to achieve her ends so she really doesn’t have a moral compass. However, make no mistake, she is compassionate towards those the few people she loves, like her father, and Gisette, her secret lover. She also is rather fond of Penelope because her innocence is regaling.

Lady Sakura of Jiyel (F) [Heterosexual]: Lover of medicine and poisons, Sakura is quite an interesting minor noble lady. Because of her low status, she has gotten away with learning some fighting techniques, battle strategy/warfare, and other less than ladylike skills. One reason for this is they have an avaricious neighbor who covets their land and since she is her parents’ only child, she is prepared for the worst and for leadership position in case they both perish. She is very temperamental (serious, you do not want to piss her off), can pack a good punch, and fights to protect those weaker or in need of help. Yet when she falls in love, she falls hard and if her heart is broken, it’s tough for her recover.

Countess Odette of Wellin (F) [Lesbian] She’s brash, tomboyish, quick to argue and speak, and has no trouble causing mischief or minor injuries to young nobles who want her hand in marriage--and the title of count. Odette loves to battle and use physical force to get herself out of trouble. She hates flowery speeches (makes her head hurt) and is bit of an alcoholic. But Odette is fiercely protective of her people and would do almost anything to make sure their safe and laws of her land are upheld. Besides that, she can bit quite immoral towards others depending on the circumstances. Whatever she does, she does for her or for her people, no matter what.  

Princess Leandra of Arland (F) [Demisexual Bisexual]: Sheltered, shy, and uncertain, Leandra has trouble coping with the burdens her family has placed upon her. She feels second best towards her sister and matters of the heart and the idea of rebellion are foreign to her. She is considerate and bends over backwards to help someone to the point of self-sacrificing. Yet Leandra yearns for freedom, to actually do things she enjoys or speak her mind, if only a little. Change scares her but also entices her greatly.  

Lady Morrigan of Revaire (F) [Heterosexual]: Married at a young age, Morrigan grew up fast and learned some more tricks at court and became skilled at persuasion and manipulation very early on. She can make you eat out of the palm of her hand and ask for more, if she felt like it. Morrigan gives off a very dominatrix vibe yet can adjust to certain people and interact with them differently. She’s chameleon and only a very few people know the real her. While she enjoys reading in-between the lines, she finds honesty and bluntness (even it’s rather rude or offensive) rather refreshing because too many don’t say what they mean or use false words to pretend they like someone they actually despise.  

Dragon Age

Una Surana (F) [Heterosexual]: With her magic, sword, and shield, Una packs quite a punch for being so petite and frail-looking (thanks to her albinism). She loves learning and often strives to be practical and decide vital matters from the head, instead by the heart but sometimes, it’s simply not possible for her so she combines both and still tries to be objective about the decision. Una has a fearsome fighting spirit that is relentless, fueled by her will to save her country, give mages more power and freedom, butcher as many darkspawn she can, and make Fereldan a better nation. Una also is fascinated with the Orzammar and wants to get involved more with dwarves.  

Lydia Tabris (F) [Bisexual]: Is comfortable with her sexuality so she can flirt like no one’s business but it’s more of part of her greeting style and how she interacts with them. It’s quite useful getting information or playing a certain distraction role. She use to be ireful and hateful towards all humans but has learned there are some decent humans in the world as well as shitty elves. But she can hold a grudge forever and may be will not kill someone for revenge but instead, cause the offender to feel guilty enough to pay the debt or do a favor or two for her. Yet her voice is like honey and knows how to make you feel right at home if she wants to.  

Boris Brosca (M) [Pansexual]: He may be short but oh boy oh boy, is he angry. Everyone is amazed how much loathing and rage is pent up inside of him. But whenever Boris remembers how to chill, he thinks about his sister--he’s fiercely devoted to her and wants only the best for her. When Boris isn’t furious at the world, he is surprisingly a good listener and picks up what people like and don’t like, allowing him to be an excellent gift giver or good shoulder to cry on or an ear to vent. And once someone earns his respect and trust, he’ll be loyal to them till the very end. 

Maude Aeducan (F) [Heterosexual]: Proud like her ancestors, Maude bows to no one, especially since she’s Queen of Orzammar. After losing Gorrim and her place in her family, Maude put a wall around her heart and refused to reveal any ounce of vulnerability, all the while honing her political cunning and plotting vengeance as she tried to determine her role with the Grey Wardens in hopes of starting anew with a better life, if possible. Eventually, once she learned to trust again, Maude becomes fiercely protective of those she cares about and will defend their honor or attack any miscreant that dares to insult or threaten them (she tends to forget sometimes her royal heritage is not known). Maude isn’t petty but she doesn’t forget a slight. She may forgive but never forget. 

Reva Cousland (F)[Heterosexual]: A compassionate, thoughtful, and adventurous woman, Reva can easily empathize with others and learn how to help them survive and overcome the pain they’re experiencing. She is a bit flirty and will pursue what she desires but as cliche as it sounds, has a heart of gold and is willing to assist others in need. She believes the strong should protect the weak, not belittle or take advantage of them. Reva doesn’t mind giving out second chances--mainly to those she fathoms have earned or deserved it for there are few people in Thedas she can never forgive or even want to offer a second chance to. She’s also the type of noble who would prefer to have people adore or love her, not fear her. 

Sardar Mahariel (M) [Heterosexual]: At first glance, it seems Sardar rarely cares about anything or taking responsibility because he’s quick with a jape or pun (seriously, the man will not stop telling puns) and rarely answers seriously. And yet, his main reason for doing this is distract himself all the shit in the world and from his past life, his homesickness for his clan, and other horrible entities from dragging him down and forcing him to succumb to the pressure and crack from it. Humor is both his coping and defense mechanism but Sardar also enjoys sharing his humor with others to get them to smile and laugh, even for a little bit.  

Xena Hawke (F) [Pansexual]: Between her sister being seized and forced into the Chantry, her brother dying, her mother dying, and Fenris leaving her for a point in time, Xena has serious abandonment issues. She drowns her pain in ale and whores while distracting herself by killing anyone who gets in her way. She can be brutal when dealing matters but can crack a dirty joke or two. Full of passion, she burns and falls in love hard so if she crashes and her breaks, it devastates her. But if the situation needs diplomacy (or at least no violence actions), Xena will do her utmost to try and reason with the opposing parties at hand.  

Aegnus Hawke (M) [Bisexual]: Typical Red Hawke. Constantly wrathful and fuels his rage into his fighting style and is more of a hit now, ask questions later kind of fellow. He is quick to judge and dole out punishment. You don’t want to get on his bad side for he’s a fuse and you don’t want to be nearby when he explodes. He loved his family so much that when each of them died or was forced from his arms (he almost killed a Templar when Bethany was taken away), his ire and bitterness increased. He’s into free love and takes pleasure when he can get it but finds bloodlust more gratifying than sex (unless he’s with Isabela).

Brynhild Hawke (F) [Heterosexual]: A true Purple Hawke. Brynhild hides her pain with jokes, impish grins, sarcasm (lots of sarcasm), and wit. It’s hard to tell whether or not she takes anything seriously with her laughing all her worries away. Her sarcasm can become dark and biting, lashing at those who pry into her affairs too much or severely hurt her and try to come back for more. She also takes pride in being a mage and isn’t shy to use magic or flaunt. She is curious about blood magic but knows it’s a dangerous tool that can corrupt a mage almost instantly so she only reads accounts of blood magic, for the sake of magic and fascination.

Kai Cadash (M) [Gay]: Lazy, oh so extremely lazy and doesn’t like making decisions--takes up too much time, thinking, and anything else he’d rather be doing. Kai loves sleeping in (despises mornings with an extreme passion), making forts, goofying around, and singing songs, especially good ole dwarven ballads, straight from Orzammar! Even though he was a smuggler in the Carta, Kai didn’t care much for violence and tried finding a way to eventually get out of the group he disliked so much. Hence, he tries to be more diplomatic (when it’s not too much of a bother) but his methods can be quite unconventional.

Morana Adaar (F) [Bisexual]: If you try to put her in chains or lock her up, she will butcher you with her bare hands, no magic required. If though she never experienced life as a mage under the Qun, Morana still values her freedom and independence and will battle bloody to defend that and the same right for others, regardless of their race or standing. She’s amusing, insightful, practical, is there to support her friends, advisers, or any member of the Inquisition, and is never one to shy away from her affections. However, she is also the type to electrocute you with a grim smile on her face, wiping you from existence. She doesn’t get mad, she gets even--in ways you won’t expect from someone like her.

Mass Effect

Ivy Shepard (F) [Heterosexual]: A true Paragon, through and through. She has a motherly nature and always looking out for her crew. If there is time to relax, she’ll take advantage the chance and make every second count. However, just because Ivy seeks for diplomatic situations or doesn’t shoot her way through her problems doesn’t mean she isn’t a force to reckon with. She delivers the most terrifying glower and can silence anyone with a simple, intimidating stare. And then turn around and give a genuine smile and pat on the back to her friends for a job well done.  

Ivanhoe “Ivan” Shepard (M) [Heterosexual]: Very pro-human, ruthless, a full-on Renegade, and will happily use his Specter status to advance his cause and has no qualms in working with Ceberus in the beginning (understood and believed in parts of their causes but never liked working for the Illusive Man) and eventually rebelled against everything Cerberus stood for. He might be very pro human and let the Council die when he saw a chance for a full human council members but he just thinks Cerberus crossed the line with many of their experiments and shadowy dealings. Additionally, Ivanhoe will punch anyone who makes fun of his name (better just call him “Ivan”), he’s a loose canon, full of vigor, and ready to stomp out those who threaten him, his crew, and ship.

Izzy Shepard (F) [Heterosexual]: Swears like a sailor and drinks like one, Izzy is a bomshell, relishing in the thrill of combat and cleaning her opponents’ clock with bullets or nice sock in the jaw. Domination is her middle name and some of her foes have the habit of running away when they hear she’s near because if she’s feeling benevolent enough to take prisoners, her questioning methods are not a piece of cake. Relentless and determined, Izzy does what she can to get the job done but despite her reputation, she won’t go on a killing spree or endanger lives for the sake of a mission. In fact, her past heroic acts have helped her trying to stop and plan her actions for the long-term and deal with making practical, sound decisions for the good of all--even if she’d rather punch the person and be done with it, reasonable be damned. Compared to Ivanhoe and Ivy, Izzy is the most flirtatious one and can be bit of tease.  

Kyle Shepard (M)[Heterosexual/Asexual/Bi-curious]: Despite his protests or denials, this man is a bloody saint. Kindness radiates from him and he can make anyone feel safe under his care due to his warm, understanding eyes and gentle voice. Kyle is a tranquil man but will be one of the first to defend his friends and family if danger approaches. He’s also a bit self-deprecating, loves a good joke or pun, and is there to help someone out in need. Kyle also loves learning about other races’ culture and is a big fan of quarian music.   

Fallout

Courier Natia Yilmaz (F)[Heterosexual but could lean towards Bisexual or Pansexaul]: Former New Vegas singer turned courier, Natia is a pragmatic, charismatic woman who decided to dedicate her life to assist and save others, especially the less unfortunate. She is a generous, compassionate soul who loves to learn and doesn’t shun or turn anyone away, regardless of they’re human, ghoul, robot, etc. If you need someone to trust with a secret or going through some rough patches and need someone to confide to, Natia is your gal. Additionally, she’s amazing singer who still senses the call and lure of music and can’t resist singing a tune every now and then. 

Sole Survivor Min-Ju Zhou (F)[Undecided]: Min-Ju (“Min” to those close to her and only her late husband was allowed to call her “Min-Min”) is temperamental, a bit of a hothead, and can hold a fire of rage or hatred burning inside her for days, weeks, or months even, depending on what caused her to be so wrathful in the first place. She is the type to shoot first, and maybe ask questions later. It’s hard to calm her down once she’s furious or feeling moody but chocolate or beer are good bribes, if you have some on hand. Dogs and cats are probably one of the very few creatures that are safe from Min whenever she goes on a rampage to find her son or take revenge on those who kidnapped him from her.   

RPs (Goetterdaemmerung, ME: A Creature Without Fear)

Delyth Toirrell nee Crewe (F) [Heterosexual]:  A woman who has both seen and done much, Delyth was once a wife, and mother of nine children. Despite losing all that in a single night, she still has a motherly air about her, even though she tries to suppress and erase all emotions. She is serene, collected, perceptive but if one looks deep and hard enough, they’ll realize an aura of forlornness surrounds her, accompanied by icy fury and an iron will and appetite to protect her country and right the wrongs against her family.

Judith Jokinen (F) [Pansexual]: A smuggler and woman of many desires, Judith is the type who, once she sets her mind on something (or someone), she’ll go after it, no matter what. She isn’t afraid of obtaining what she wants; the hunt of this love game thrills her. She pursues passion to its fullest and loves experimenting—especially in sex. Her nature is bold, blunt, and flirtatious, and she reeks of confidence, so much so that it’s daunting and intimidating to others. However, she has a nasty sadistic steak in her, an imprint left on her turbulent childhood and the beginning stages of her adult life.

Savitr Noaldis (M) [Bisexual]: Witty, flirtatious, and utterly shameless, Savitr makes his attraction to others known and isn’t shy to show off his sexuality or skin, despite being a drell. While being a successful businessman and lover, he also is a free-lanced hacker whose skills are practically legendary—a talent he honed ever since he was in the foster system. Yet coldness and cruelty become one within him if anyone where to ever harm someone close to him (usually it’s just Judith) or betray his trust.

Bryn Whelan (F) [Heterosexual but might shift towards Bisexual or Pansexual]: Bryn has had a rough childhood and adult life, with one of her more positive moments of being in the Alliance Black Ops. But she lost her mother and older brother to the Repears when she was two and then twenty years later, when she was on vacation and visiting her family, slavers came to her home planet. Her father was shot down in front of her eyes and soon after, Bryn ended up witnessing her sister’s suicide during their first day being under the slavers’ captivity. This experience only harden her already hard heart and darkened her mind, immediately setting her on a course for vengeance and ready to shun additional attachments that might distract her from her goal. But despite that attempt, Bryn does secretly long for companionship and friendships, for she experienced very little of that when she was a child and only has some Black-Ops members as true friends. In addition, when Bryn is angry, her rage is like water, smooth, furtive, but completely crushing. If you go against her, be ready to avoid any deadly sniper assailments. 

Dagnes Radraste (M) [Straight/Asexual]: Full name: Dagnes Ilkar Talholaan Idres Michorex Radraste. Radraste is a very professional, strict, and cordial salarian and never much of a rule-breaker; he practically lives by the rules set by the establishment. If there not supposed to be rules (like in the case for the Spectres) and it’s for a good reason, then he obeys that lack of rules as well. . By nature, he is also quite nosy but is furtive about it. He loves delving into other people’s secrets and gaining any information that will be useful to him and his employers. Also not a fan of violence and will look for ways to settle a matter peacefully and diplomatically. 

Farion Vandrium (M) [Heterosexual]: Cocky and forthright, Farion is your typical alpha male. When he knows he’s the strongest or cleverest in the room, he’ll make everyone else knows it and respects him. He’s a daring character, unable to resist a challenge (backing down from one isn’t an option) until he wins. Many of his kind would call Farion a “bad turian” because of his rebellious nature and disregard for discipline and the rules. He hates succumbing to authority and does what he can to mock it; he has no wish to be under someone’s rule for long. His wild personality leaves him to be a difficult person to control and tame, very few can constrain him and predict his volatile moods. Yet Farion almost enjoys being the black sheep in his family because he does what he wants and what pleases him. Authority can kiss his ass.

Aqil’Osher vas Cerberus (M) [Gay]: A courteous and amicable quarian, Aqil never forgets his manners, whether he is with a stranger and or a dear friend, being polite is simply in his nature. He is easy to get along with and as a gentle, fair, and balanced nature, for he refuses to let negative emotions cloud his actions or decrease his manners or behaviors. He is a fan of traditional and enjoys looking back in time to study and learn from the past. To him, one can always understand a thing or two from tradition and past ideas and technology, even if they are considered, dead, obsolete, or no longer relevant for the future. Family and loyalty are two important values to him, ones he will fiercely and unyieldingly protect, no matter what.