#IN YOUR HEART SHALL BURN AN UNQUENCHABLE FLAME ALL-CONSUMING AND NEVER SATISFIED

[hwashitape]

god remember how DAI had like the best main quest titles ever in history /lh how will they top it like… does Tevinter have their own heretic Chant

[noahfromthesea]

Light from uncommon stars - Ryka Aoki

[vigilskeep]

i thought the way emmrich in vows & vengeance talked about humans/people having a “specific flame”, “a sort of spark or animation that spirits can only mimic”, and being able to tell apart spirits/demons as comparatively “cold and heavy” was super interesting

it reminded me of the line in the chant where the maker creates humanity and says “to you, my second-born, i grant this gift: in your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame, all-consuming and never satisfied.” this is also in direct comparison to spirits/demons, who according to andrastian lore are his first-born creations he was unsatisfied with

[rachelamberish]

Have to get this out before the cohesive thought escapes my ADD brain so excuse me if this is word garbage:

The passage from the chant of light about the maker’s first born children being spirits and he thinks they suck bc they don’t want to create anything new and original. So then his second born children are people with physical bodies. “In your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame all consuming and never satisfied”. Like.

Okay i have no inclination where a lot of the passages in the chant even come from, other than that I assume a large source is Andraste herself who was presumably a host of Mythal (Morrigan in Veilguard describes Mythal’s spirit coming to her in a dream in the EXACT same way it is described the Maker approached Andraste and also the Andraste’s line being only women thing and. Yeah. I hope/assume we’re just all on the same page with this now).

So like. I think this passage was a bastardized-by-time-and-interpretation account of Mythal (and the other Evanuris) being unsatisfied with their spirit forms and then proceeding to take physical ones.

Actually now that i think about it I want to reread the whole chant. Because that shit now just takes on entirely new context.

“And so the golden city blackens with each step you take in my hall, marvel at perfection for it is fleeting, you have brought sin to heaven and doom upon all the world.” Could very easily be — again — a bastardized version of some shit Solas ACTUALLY said to the magisters that breached his prison and in so doing unleashed the blight.

“They looked upon what Pride had wrought and despaired”??? Like please. I’m going back to read that fucking Chant.

[aethernoise]

"To you, My second-born, I grant this gift: In your heart shall burn An unquenchable flame All-consuming, and never satisfied [...]” 

- Threnodies 5:7

[thequeendomhq]

"Then, the One God said: To you, My second-born, I grant this gift: In your heart shall burn An unquenchable flame All-consuming, and never satisfied.”

Our Road Ahead

Into Hrimthur’s Wastelands the refugees went. For a month they would travel the mountain passes made of ancient stone and twisted like serpents while ice froze the world around them. Mist hung in the frigid air as they traveled up the treacherous cliffsides; the injured carried as they collectively traveled through the snow together. Peaks towered around them from all sides, fjords carved by the Gods themselves sliced the landscape as the traveler navigated narrow passages at the edge of the mountainsides. 

Overhead pregnant dark clouds kept them in perpetual shadows, promising more snow would come. The reprieve of the sun’s light was distant even as they ascended through the banks higher and higher. Thin, rasping air kept them weary and their depleted rations kept them focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The Blight was beneath them now, in the valleys beyond the mountains and those with the taint had not lived long after the Nornwatch Pyre. 

Like glittering stars dotting the landscape, the witchers in their mithril armor scouted to secure the road ahead. Others lingered at the rear and secured those that began to fall behind were hoisted to their feet before they were set forward again. To lag was to risk almost certain death in the coldest, most unforgiving, region of Taravell. 

Into the distance, the peaks soared into the raw sky above, blotted by darkness, their summits were lost in a veil of frosted, swirling mist. In this dark, desolate landscape, there was a raw beauty that spoke of ages past, of battles fought and won, and ofsecrets buried beneath the ice. Stones that glimmered within shone at night, cascading the air with an azure hue that illuminated the snow in places. At night, Hrimthur’s mountains seemed to come alive. Breathing their sigh of auroran air into the sky once the sun set below the horizon; ribbons of these frozen lights shifted and turned about themselves. So close that they writhed atop the Iskarans’s makeshift tents, a companion in the night, but gone by morning’s faded light. 

Every step forward was a struggle against the biting cold, the crunch of snow beneath their boots echoing through the silent valleys. Yet, with each passing mile, the troupe drew closer to their destination, driven by a sense of heroic purpose, or stark defiance against the shadow of death. Iskaldrik was lost behind them, Nornwatch Keep burned in the past, but the promise of Lysara hung like the north star ahead. 

Nornwatch Keep was behind them now. The refugees freeing Iskaldrik were fewer, but still many. Knowledgeable of the terrain and the region, the Legion of the Dead took point. Field Commander Deidameia had died in the assault, without clear leadership the living legionnaires counciled alongside the Iskarans. Witchers, jarls, advisers, and the legionnaires had been plotting their course for weeks, all that remained was to survive. 

The hysteria of Nornwatch had not ended with the executed traitors. The darkspawn’s attack was a nightmare that plagued the minds of everyone, among the troupe some hadn’t spoken since. Children wandered without parents - mothers and fathers ripped underground as the assault made orphans, and widows, out of proudly stubborn Iskarans. They had been caught completely unaware, legionnaires killed from within, and the gate left unlocked. 

Our Trials We’ll Face

Those who could hunt were sent out to do so. These hunters coordinated with the witchers, legion, jarls, and advisors of the crown to mark the maps of the region with potential hunting grounds. Regions with dense forest coverage, and access to fresh water and other resources would be ideal for small and large prey. Rally points were stapled along the way so the hunters could find the troupe when they were successful, checkpoints marked along their paths through the mountains. 

Alone or in small groups, hunters could travel more freely without the cumbersome nature of those who couldn’t navigate the terrain. The horses, the oxen, and the weight of the tents and other necessities for encampment. Among the hunters were legionnaires, witchers, shieldmaidens, jarls, and any able-bodied volunteer willing to risk the dangers of the mountain for assurance that the troupe would survive the travel ahead. Famine and starvation would kill them as surely as the Blight had tried. 

Small, nimble predators like arctic foxes dotted the landscape - watching from a distance with useful, thick fur coats. Hares were a staple of the region, in burrows and more susceptible to snares than arrows. Both blended easily into the landscape, white like the snow and quicker than most of the creatures in the troupe, they’d be spied on in one instance, and then gone in the next. Silent hunters of the night, snow owls patrolled the skies, preying on small rodents and other birds. Moving in herds and seeking patches of vegetation beneath the snow, reindeer roam the valleys and can be tracked more easily than any other. Followed and hunted by other predators, the troupe are not the only hunters after the reindeer, but dire wolves as well. Far larger than their cousins, if those navigating the wilderness aren’t careful, they’ll become the hunted. 

At night, the clouds rumbled in the distance over the greatest peaks in the valley. Groaning in anguish as dramatic clashes of rock and ice shook loose shafts of snow and ice from the sheer faces about them. Witchers spoke of Hrimthursa, towering behemoths of living mountains, battling for dominion over ancient territory. Obscured by swirling blizzards and frozen mists, the closer the troupe would come the more dangerous their journey would be. The ground trampled beneath them, and those who watched the immutable darkness of the valleys below would see the shapes of these ancient behemoths wandering through the valleys below. Felled and fallen from the summit, their footsteps echoed like thunder from the ground below. 

These mountains of Ymir’s most northern Spine are home to other things beyond giants and wolves. Frost Trolls dwell in the deep, labyrinthine caverns that honeycomb through the mountains and the fields below. Cropping up through the ancient mines of an age long forgotten to the annals of time; protected from the glaring light of the sun by the thick clouds of mist, they roam in solitude or small groups hunting and gathering. Their weapons are primitive, their skin hard as stone, and their teeth are hard like daggers do not discriminate between man and beast. 

Beneath the ice are the petrified children of the dark, the draugr. Wights of harrowed flesh and withered bones; soldiers from wars that predate this age of man, they are the undead minions of Lusacan’s prodigies. The draugr are vampiric in nature, however, it’s not blood they crave, but to spread their blight to those they can sink their teeth into. Like ghosts with a physical body, only powerful magic can exorcise them for good, or its antithesis can purge their forms of entropic possession. For those with the ability to do neither, beheading them and torching their bodies is an acceptable alternative. Anyone bitten by these monsters is fated to join the legions of draugr trapped within the ice. 

In the distance there is a roar from a creature that will chill the bone of even the most hardened warrior. Drakes and wyverns are not foreign to the troupe, the Iskarans know these beasts from the mountains that surround their home. They are the lesser children of a greater beast though, one that has awakened after centuries of slumber, growling from the fjords around them, and threatening what little hope remains. 

Our One Hope

Hrimthur’s Outpost. It wasn’t named in any text, or written down on any map, but the name was assigned by the legion rangers who traveled this region before. Shattered, stone homes that are half buried beneath snow and ice with a broken tower at its center. This evidence is all that remains of a proud city that existed in a time that the people have forgotten. 

Runes dot these stones, druidic in origin but to the Iskarans they’d readily claim them as their own. A waygate once existed here but like so many other things it was broken by what they would call a cataclysm. These cold, frozen walls are the only reprieve that the refugees would find after weeks of traveling through the expanse of the wastelands. The Northern Spine of Iskaldrik that saw them trudge endlessly through snow and over ice, their rations gone, and their hope along with it. 

Fires dot the battered homes and line the walls of the tower. The cold wood gathered from old pines does not burn easily, but those familiar with ironwood are well-versed in casting almost anything ablaze. Miserable nights are made more tolerable as the hunters rally at this juncture, holes cut into ice fields yield fish, and reindeer roasts over open flames with the sweet berries plucked from the cold bushes snaking out from cliffs. 

It lacks the mead of a proper feast, but it’s the first good, warm meal that they’ve had in what feels like a lifetime. As the fire dims and thoughts turn towards those that were taken, the looming dangers that lurk in the dark around them are nothing when compared to what lays ahead. These Spines are too cold for the blight to survive, but Isengrim’s Embrace and the Lostlands following will yield horrors unlike any the Iskarans had yet to see. The Legion says this not to quell the flames of the lifting spirits, but to remind them of the vigilance that peace demands. 

What follows is a voice, one that starts small, but is quickly joined by the crowd of refugees. 

“Shadows fall. And hope has fled. Steel your heart. The dawn will come.”

“The night is long. And the path is dark. Look to the sky. For one day soon. The dawn will come.”

The One’s Taken

( tw: childbirth )

All for Mother. 

It became hard to tell if you were waking or dreaming, the song guided your hands and work. This one was weak so you cleaved them in two, pulled back their skin, and cut free their entrails. Scraps for the wargs to fight over, flabby meat to fatten your pack. Sister they called you with blackened gums and pointed teeth, snapping for more as they hungered for the sweet. Brother you remarked as you beat them down, swine should learn where swine should sleep. The best of the best was for Her, the Mother of the brood for only Mother could birth the horde. 

Your hands slipped between the folds as another came screeching into the world. Hideous and beautiful and yours to rear. Snapping at your ankles as you carved off scraps, the sweet, beautiful heart for Mother, but the bones left for them to suckle. Something to gnaw and carve, sharpen their teeth, and help them grow. You used to be…. You can no longer recall, but you see the fields of fire for what they are, a garden and a home so hot it might just be cold. 

More. Mother screams. She needs more. You do not defy but your body moves of its own accord, enthralled and drawn about as your broken boots drag against wailing stones. In the dark, you hear a whisper, a song that reminds you of the girl who ran carefree through the woods. The one who split logs, who lifted a splintered shield, and who did not survive all this time to die nameless in a cave. Your lips part as you join her in song: 

“The Shepard's lost. And his home is far. Keep to the stars. The dawn will come.”

“The night is long. And the path is dark. Look to the sky. For one day soon. The dawn will come.”

The night takes you, tomorrow you begin again. 

OOC info: 

The next troupe update will be on Friday, May 24th.

The Ones Taken are still captive (big sad I know), they're midwives now. Who knows, maybe someday they'll have a brood of their own <3.

After a long hike through the mountains, the troupe reached what used to be a village. RIP.

The full moon will take place after the happy song, and characters affected by the full moon will be made to shift. Fair warning, if they kill anyone in the village they'll be put down :(

Most of Taravell will now have heard about what happened to Iskaldrik, refugees are washing up on the shores of Caribella and Borderreach.

Any vessels or attempts to enter Iskaldrik have disappeared without a trace.

[dragon-age-codex-entries]

Codex entry: The Maker

"There was no word For heaven or for earth, for sea or sky. All that existed was silence. Then the Voice of the Maker rang out, The first Word, And His Word became all that might be: Dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities. And from it made his firstborn. And he said to them: In My image I forge you, To you I give dominion Over all that exists. By your will May all things be done.

Then in the center of heaven He called forth A city with towers of gold, streets with music for cobblestones, And banners which flew without wind. There, He dwelled, waiting To see the wonders His children would create.

The children of the Maker gathered Before his golden throne And sang hymns of praise unending. But their songs Were the songs of the cobblestones. They shone with the golden light Reflected from the Maker's throne. They held forth the banners That flew on their own.

And the Voice of the Maker shook the Fade Saying: In My image I have wrought My firstborn. You have been given dominion Over all that exists. By your will All things are done. Yet you do nothing. The realm I have given you Is formless, ever-changing.

And He knew he had wrought amiss. So the Maker turned from his firstborn And took from the Fade A measure of its living flesh And placed it apart from the Spirits, and spoke to it, saying: Here, I decree Opposition in all things: For earth, sky For winter, summer For darkness, Light. By My Will alone is Balance sundered And the world given new life.

And no longer was it formless, ever-changing, But held fast, immutable, With Words for heaven and for earth, sea and sky. At last did the Maker From the living world Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth, With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities.

Then the Maker said: To you, my second-born, I grant this gift: In your heart shall burn An unquenchable flame All-consuming, and never satisfied. From the Fade I crafted you, And to the Fade you shall return Each night in dreams That you may always remember me.

And then the Maker sealed the gates Of the Golden City And there, He dwelled, waiting To see the wonders His children would create."

—Threnodies 5:1-8

[cansofbees]

In your heart shall burn

An unquenchable flame all-consuming,

And never satisfied

[dickytwister]

"in your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame all-consuming, and never satisfied." || [x]

[husband-steve-cortez]

To you, my second-born, I grant this gift:

In your heart shall burn

An unquenchable flame

All-consuming, and never satisfied.

...Entropy quote is pretty badass and honestly taking his skill in that school as channeling dissatisfaction and hunger is really cool.

[angharradhx]

davheira​:

“An oath?” Not a sacrifice as he had feared, but a weighty price nonetheless. Davheira had never been one to abandon his oaths, never been one to go back on his word. He had promised Cassius that he would wait for him, and he had done so, seeking him out on his every lifetime, loving him until he had believed him gone. He had promised Meryasek to take his duties as a Marshal seriously, and he had done so despite his instincts desiring the chaos and freedom of travels, he had promised Meryasek to support him for what he could and that is what had led to this very journey. Flighty and frivolous as he has been, Davheira has always been one to keep his promises and his oaths. If he does this, he is aware he will be committing himself to Sehanine’s patronage for the rest of his life, to worship her as his goddess for as long as he will continue to remain. It’s a weighty price, but one that he will bear with delight if it means the ability to protect his people and those he holds dear.

“Then I shall accept this restoration with a gladdened heart,” he says, even as his mind races, the legends of the Lythari flitting through his head as he recalls all the songs he has heard on the courts coming to mind. He is surprised, at the mention of Lycaon, but even then the story makes sense, the pieces falling into place as it unravels before him. “And I shall remind the Winter Court of our origins, those same origins we should not have so easily forgotten.”

A step is taken, heart racing as Davhy’s decision is made regardless of the possible risks and the fears flying through his head. Carefully, he bows at the goddess and reaches forward, cupping the water on his hands and bringing it to his lips to drink from it, accepting Sehanine’s gift and establishing himself as the first of her clergy since their ancestor’s had been erased by strife.

-

When Davheira looked up, the aspect of Sehanine had been replaced for the conglomerate goddess that the dead made up: Queen Angharradh. Many goddesses to keep darkness from the realm, and one to rule at the King’s side. Corellon’s magic was overwhelming and oppressive, great power like that which flowed from the Seldarine bore down on lesser creatures and anyone that did not compare. Angharradh’s strength was far greater than the King of Arvandor, though hers did not oppress, but uplift. Stood before the Queen and the light of Telperion, Davheira would have never felt more powerful. 

“A bard is the heart and soul of the people.” Angharradh said with great kindness, it seemed that the good fey had forgotten that; she was not omniscient, and she did not have the sort of hold that Titania held over the eladrin, but she could see the creature’s spirit. That indelible spark that shone within, there were some among her that wondered how elven an eladrin could still be when it was so broken. Their mortal children little more than candles that flickered in the dark before they went out. Sune kept the Queen’s heart bright and pure, with love that would never waver. Corellon would not help them, but she would. Angharradh touched his cheek, a hand that was neither hot or cold, but comforting in the way that newborn’s held their blanket. “In your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame, all-consuming, and never satisfied. When your life is in great peril, set it ablaze.” 

Still an eladrin, Davheira would not feel any physical change from his devotion. As disappointing as that might have been for him, Angharradh was made up of so many elven goddesses that it was impossible for her to not be capricious.  All life was better with mystery. “Explore Sehanine’s outlook as you wish, Arvandor is open to you, you can rest here and indulge in what you wish: our librarian’s reliquary contains every word ever written, even deeper are the pages of thoughts, though they’re far more convoluted. I enjoyed your story, Davheira, I’m looking forward to seeing what happens next.” She tilted her head towards him as moonlight enveloped her, dissipating into a gradual array of silver butterflies. 

[veinereastath]

“To you, My second-born, I grant this gift: In your heart shall burn An unquenchable flame All-consuming, and never satisfied.”

[vigilskeep]

it’s like “to you, my second-born, i grant this gift: in your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame, all-consuming, and never satisfied” means nothing to some of your people

[lumienyx]

Dragon Age-Inspired Prompt List

A prompt list with DA-specific prompts👀 If you’d like DA-themed dialogue starters, venture here.

Choose one (or several!) of the prompts + a pairing (here are the ones I write for) — and prompt me any time :3

Feel free to use and reblog!💕

📑 Fanfiction Tropes

General fic tropes with some DA-specific stuff thrown in at the end ~

Humor

Hurt/comfort

Tooth-rotting fluff

Domestic fluff

Angst with a happy ending

Mutual pining

Idiots in love

Friends to lovers

Enemies (to friends) to lovers

There was only one bed

Sharing body heat

Snowed in/trapped

Unresolved sexual tension

Matchmaking

Reunion fic

Sick fic

5 + 1 fic

Fake/secret dating

Getting together

First date/kiss

First time

Proposal/marriage

Game/drinking night at the Hanged Man

Inquisitor!Hawke OR Inquisitor!Anders OR [any alternate Inquisitor of your choice]

[Character] needs a hug

🎶 Chant of Light

Totally random quotes from the Chant that seemed vaguely cool. Can be read as a sort of poem/story ~

Left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade

Calling out for justice

Lost to night

By cruel magic taken, ice, lightning, and flame

Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked

Let the blade pass through the flesh, Let my blood touch the ground, Let my cries touch their hearts

And the stars stood still, the winds did quiet

Magic born of mingled blood and lyrium

What hath man’s sin wrought?

They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world Or beyond

Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him

Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just

Trembling, I step forward

The deep dark before dawn’s first light seems eternal

Perhaps there is only abyss

In hushed whispers

Prickling pangs of dread

With passion’d breath does the darkness creep... it is the whisper in the night, the lie upon your sleep

Dream and idea, hope and fear, endless possibilities

Let chaos be undone

Unshaken by the darkness of the world

I shall weather the storm, I shall endure

Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting

With my eyes closed, yet I see The Light is here

In your heart shall burn An unquenchable flame All-consuming, and never satisfied

🔥 Thedas

Random stuff to do/experience in Thedas ~

Shared dreaming in the Fade

Fun with magic (making ice slides with ice magic, dodge fireball, weaving abstract lightning art in the night sky, making caricature statues with earth magic, etc.)

Wounds from magical friendly fire

The feel of healing magic

The smell of lyrium (~ the air after a lightning strike — or your own hc)

The song of red lyrium

Lyrium high

Crippling numbness after magic overuse

The smell of fresh elfroot

Smoking blood lotus

Shivering in a place where the Veil is thin

Wounds after using blood magic

Sensing darkspawn

Hearing the Calling

Getting lost  in the Deep Roads

Napping in the Brecilian Forest

Watching the stars from the window of a Circle

Festivities in Orzammar

Winter in Ferelden

Dragon hunting in the Free Marches

Masquerade ball in Orlais / Orgy if a ball seems too boring

Sunbathing in Minrathous

Strip Wicked Grace

Mage vs. mage sparring

Warrior/rogue vs. mage sparring

💕 Affection

Kiss Prompts ~

In the rain

By a campfire

In a tavern

At a ball

In the middle of a fight

In an alley to hide from pursuers

Lazy morning kisses

Rough kisses

"I love you" kiss

"Shut up" kiss

"Happy you're alive" kiss

"I missed you" kiss

Touch Prompts ~

Gentle touches

Accidental touches

Holding hands

Hugs/cuddling

Tickling

Healing touch

Spirit touches

Magic touches

Touching scars/wounds

Massage

Playing with hair

Touch-starved

🔞 NSWF Prompts Below ⤵

😏 Smut Prompts

Thedas stands for THE DA Smut ~

Masturbation

Oral sex

69

Rimming

Rough sex

Spanking

Orgasm delay/denial

Voyeurism/exhibitionism

Multiple orgasm/overstimulation

Sensory deprivation

With toys (...magic toys)

Electricity play

Temperature play

Lyrium play

Magic in bed

Against the wall

On the floor

In front of a mirror

In a chantry

In the Fade

[dirtybiowareconfessions]

Confession: I have a fantasy where I'm giving Cullen a blow job in a chantry while he prays. "In your heart shall burn. An unquenchable flame. All-consuming, and never satisfied."

[dragon-age-codex-entries]

Codex entry: In Your Heart Shall Burn

"Then the Maker said: To you, My second-born, I grant this gift: In your heart shall burn An unquenchable flame All-consuming, and never satisfied. From the Fade I crafted you, And to the Fade you shall return Each night in dreams That you may always remember Me."

—Canticle of Threnodies 5:7

"In passages one through six, His first children wanted for nothing; freed from need, they could only praise. But it was hollow, without cost. We—and all the physical—were created immutable, that our works would require struggle. A wonder created of wood and stone proves more intent than any wish of the Fade.

Here in the gentlest verses of the Chant, we see how great His gift and how stern His punishment. To inspire, He gave us dreams, such that we would strive to make this limited world reflect His glory. Some look upon that nightly memory and feel only desire, as though owed His splendor. We, the second children, were meant to master the wonts and wanes of emotion and childish pursuits, to honor at a distance and move ever forward. We failed in this, and the weakest of us did act as petulant infants, clawing back into His sight. Because we could not master our desire, because we acted on pitiful instinct, because we dared look upon our Maker to fulfill our need and not His, He is lost to us.

But He is merciful while stern, and we remember what we have lost. His second children can learn, grow, and change. If we cannot, then we are no better—and no worse—than His first children."

—From The Word and Challenge of the Chant by Revered Mother Hevara