#Ser Jory

[championsandheroes]

Ser Jory, I have to insist that you read the character creation text before you open your mouth again.

Over at Patreon, society6, and redbubble we’ve decided to forgive ser Jory, but only because he had no issue with us being an elf.

[bumblewarden]

default weapons on jory and daveth above. disarmed below. poor fool would not take the hint

[lavalampelfchild]

To Answer the Call (Wardens at Ostagar), Ch. 8

Summary: The time has come for the Joining, and the recruits gather with Duncan and the other Wardens to undergo the mysterious ritual.  No one can predict what will happen, only that it will change their lives irrevocably...

AO3: Here.

A/N: As a heads-up to any tumblr-readers I have here; I renamed the ao3 version of this fic because I’m going to be breaking up my huge DAO narrative into individual stories that deal with each arc of the narrative.  All of these mini-stories will go in one single series, which is going to be what keeps the title To Answer the Call.  I am also going to start posting just previews here on tumblr, while linking to the ao3 version of the story because these chapters are getting longer, and I don’t have scripts that help me format everything quicker… xD Apologies for any inconvenience!

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Preview: 

They didn’t have long to rest.  As soon as everyone was able to stand on their own, Duncan herded them to a secluded corner of the camp and bade them wait.  Richu and Grigor had gone to the healing tents to fetch Velyn.  Alistair and Rondall were left to stay with the recruits and guard the Joining site.  

The night was dark enough, at least, that no curious onlookers from the king’s camp would see them.

Always find a silver lining, Alistair thought darkly.

The unease was palpable. The recruits were wary and tense. Ser Jory was the only one moving, pacing back and forth, face tight, gait stiff.

“This damned Joining,” he muttered. “The more I hear of it, the less I like it.”

Beside him, Daveth groaned, “Enough with your blubbering, ser knight.  It’s already happening, isn’t it?  Might as well shut up.”

Ser Jory made a frustrated noise.  “Of course you’d say that, you don’t—”  He broke off and exhaled carefully, hands twitching at his side.  His face was a twisted scowl of pain and frustration.  Alistair exchanged a wary look with Rondall.

“Look, Ser Jory,” he began in what he hoped was a sufficiently calm voice. “It’s going to be—”

“Have I not earned my place?” Ser Jory demanded, barreling through Alistair’s attempt at reassurance. “These damned tests, I—What is the purpose of lying to us about it all?”

“You’re going to be fine, Ser Jory—” Alistair tried again.  Daveth’s sharp scoff cut him off.

“Who gives a damn?” he sneered.  His eyes were hard, gaze locked firmly on Ser Jory.  “Maybe it’s tradition.  Or maybe they’re just trying to annoy you.  Damned easy thing to do, isn’t it?”

That got Ser Jory’s hackles up.  “Lying to us is tradition, then?”  His voice was rising.  Alistair shot another look Rondall’s way.  Could use a little help here.

Rondall stepped forward, “Alright, that’s enough—”

“All these secrets, all these tests, and what purpose do they serve!?  There is no honor in it—”

“Honor?”  Daveth marched forward to meet Ser Jory in challenge. “What would you know of honor?  The way you’re griping about it.”

“I know more of the matter than you, clearly—”

“Clearly!  Clearly, you’re talking out your arse.  You’d cut and run at the smallest thing, not even thought about why they might be having us go through all this—”

“To sacrifice us without our knowledge—”

“Because you wouldn’t be here if they’d told you what you’d be doing, and someone has to stop this damned Blight!  You saw those darkspawn out there, same as I!  You want to talk about honor?  What about that pretty wife of yours you keep going on about?  Isn’t it the honorable thing to want to protect her? Wouldn’t you die if it meant keeping her safe?”

Ser Jory’s face was ashen. “Of course, I—”

“Maybe you’ll die,” Daveth snarled through gritted teeth. “Maybe we’ll all die.  If nobody stops the darkspawn, then we’ll all die for sure.”

“They still should have told us.  My wife—” Ser Jory’s eyes were bright, wet with tears, the pupils dark and small.  Fearful.  “If I’d have known, I—I wouldn’t have left—”

“That’s enough!”

End Preview.

-----

[heniareth]

Oh, Grey Warden: Chapter 5

The Wilds

They entered what Duncan called the Korcari Wilds, which was the wider area in which Ostagar lay, barely an hour into their march. And a march it was; Duncan was harrying them along at a pace that had Astala slump down on her blanket as soon as they set up camp and only get up for cooking and dinner under grave protests. Their march lasted for two days. On their second day of travel, they started to see pools of murky water; nothing like the stream that had run through the Brecilian Forest, and probably pretty warm and full of nasty things. The air was heavy and humid. Only the salt and the wind were missing for Astala to feel like she was right back in summertime Denerim.

The taint had started to leave visible marks on Ilanlas. The bite mark had kinda sorta healed, but also blackened further. Dark veins were now faintly visible under his skin. He sometimes stumbled but kept on holding his head high. Other times Astala caught him muttering to himself in elven, then pressing on with renewed strength. Other than that, he spoke less and less. The only consolation here was that the fever was apparently gone. Her own temperature hadn’t risen yet, and she was extremely grateful for that. Even so, she could feel something building up inside of her; something lay heavy on her chest and shoulders, made her stomach grumble—and not in the hungry way—and kept her eyes open until they burned at night.

How much of all of this was the Blight eating away at her and how much was the fact that she was terrified of it? Either way, it was making her lose her mind. The fact that there was no telling made everything worse. She took her medicine, which had started to taste good, collected Andraste’s Grace where she could find it, tried to identify elfroot, which apparently was a common plant in these parts and had medicinal properties. And still, in the back of her mind, there was that little voice that had nothing to do with the whispers and that was expecting her to drop dead with every step. Or wake up one day to find her skin blistered and her sanity gone.

In the afternoon of their second day of travel, Duncan ripped her out of these and other happy thoughts.

“There,” he said, pointing ahead. “We have reached Ostagar.”

Ilanlas, who’d been doing little but trotting along for the better part of the afternoon, lifted his head.

They’d made it.

We’ve made it to Ostagar right in time for Christmas! I would’ve loved to do something more Christmas-themed, but alas, here’s where we are in the story right now XD XD XD Middle of summer in the most humid place in Ferelden ever. Maybe next year. That said, I wish you all a very happy few days! If you celebrate, Christmas or otherwise, or don’t celebrate, I wish you all the joy and good food these next few days can hold and then some. Take good care of yourselves!

[bruxbea]

Hawthorne: I knew them for all of a day and a half, yet nearly a decade later they still haunt my every waking hour-

the ghost of Ser Jory: If she would just tell us why we died in our small clothes…

[theotherpacman]

got s1 is really a very faithful adaptation of agot, with only minor divergences. sometimes I really love the little details in the book that the show doesn't have room for, but sometimes I like the decisions the show made differently.

things I appreciate about the book:

the fact that jon is 14 makes his naivete regarding the wall hit so much harder. he's just a little boy and he's willing to sign his whole life away bc he believes he can be a part of something noble... neither his father nor his uncle nor anyone else tells him that to take the black is a grim sentence steeped in shame

ned hearing that bran's direwolf saved his life and being like "holy shit I killed one of them... what the fuck did I do"

sandor just whole ass traumadumping on 11-year-old sansa completely unprompted and then when he realizes he's just made himself vulnerable for literally no reason he goes "if you tell anyone about this I'll fucking kill you"

mormont thinks jon will be disappointed that bran is now a cripple but jon is so ecstatic bran's alive that he picks up tyrion lannister and spins him around (tyrion is startled by this) and then proceeds to cheerfully make friends with a guy who hates his guts bc jon kicked his absolute ass in training

tyrion and bronn starting to become friends on the way to the vale <3

THAT SINGER BITCH i love him

"whatever you may believe of me, lady stark, I promise you this -- I never bet against my family" screaming crying throwing up

jon going to maester aemon and convincing him to let sam take his vows!!!! using the metaphor of the maester's chain to make his point about how just bc sam is different that doesn't mean he's useless!!!!!!!

TYRION FIGHTING IN THE BATTLE AGAINST ROBB'S MEN!!!!! THE SHOW DID HIM SO FUCKING DIRTY i get that they didn't have as big a budget back then but come on man ToT

"when the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. when the seas go dry and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves. when your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. then he will return, and not before." LET THE BARRENNESS BE PART OF THE CURSE why did they cut that

when tywin says "because you are my son" tyrion fucking Hates him for that bc he knows that if jaime were he tywin wouldn't spare him a second glance, he's only Tywin's Son now that jaime is prisoner and might die at the hands of the starks

things I appreciate about the show:

arya shooting a bullseye from behind bran. queen

jaime being a dick to everyone all the time for no reason. just going around starting shit. also that scene outside robert's bedroom where he talks to jory. jaime in general

ROS!!!!! MY GIRL ROS MY ABSOLUTE QUEEN ROS

"she's our guest." "she's our prisoner." "do you find the two to be mutually exclusive in your experience, my lord?" lmaooooo get his ass maester luwin

"sometimes possession,,,,, is an abstract concept"

THE DRINKING GAME!!!! first of all it gives us more insight into shae as a person who is so different from tyrion's established worldviews, secondly tyrion is always going around saying offensive shit and he thinks nothing of it bc a) people say offensive shit to him all the time and that's one of the ways he deals with it and b) he's usually right BUT when he makes all those assumptions about shae he's totally wrong and she stands up for herself, but my favorite part of that scene is that tyrion is hesitant to share this traumatic story from his past but he's just made bronn and shae confront their traumas so now he has to share too. and I think that's beautiful

all of varys and petyr's bitchy conversations when they're alone in the throne room

this only covers the first book/season I might make more of these as I keep reading

[milesmentis]

After more than a year, Chapter 5 is out in the world!!!

Our heroes face their first real challenge as a group and begin to learn more about each other in the process.

Thank you to @anderstrevelyan, @bluewren, @mxkelsifer, and @mxanigel for tagging me in WIP Wednesdays over the last few months: you guys kept me motivated. And of course, my beloved, for trusting me with her OC and being my editor and ass kicker 🥰

It took 8 months to write and doubled my word count, but there's finally a new chapter of "From the Wreckage" out in the world!

Enjoy!

[varrics-chesthair]

[the-dragon-folk]

in my head lives a 22 years post the start of origins team that’s late 20s/early 30s something Connor Guerrin baby sitting a small pack of twenty-somethings, consisting of at least Ser Jory’s cringefail warrior daughter (obviously), obligatory secretive mage Kieran, and idk maybe Oghren’s kid’s in there and it reads your save file and names em after your warden

[fatetcrn]

I can't help think that when Alistair meets the potential Warden recruits at Ostagar he feels he needs to sort of try build up an extra wall and really steel himself. He knows what they are being asked to endure and that they might not survive. He empathizes with them pre-emptively but he has to try remain detached and impersonal. THEN he meets one who persistently asks him all sorts of questions, follows him around Ostagar, tries to get to know him and is actually interested in what he has to say and he feels himself getting drawn in. He catches himself praying fervently that they survive.

[arte072]

asoiaf fandom: arya has never shown any desire to rule winterfell!! 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

arya: "my favorite thing to do in the world was watch my dad rule Winterfell! 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰"

Back at Winterfell, they had eaten in the Great Hall almost half the time. Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. "Know the men who follow you," she heard him tell Robb once, "and let them know you. Don't ask your men to die for a stranger." At Winterfell, he always had an extra seat set at his own table, and every day a different man would be asked to join him. One night it would be Vayon Poole, and the talk would be coppers and bread stores and servants. The next time it would be Mikken, and her father would listen to him go on about armor and swords and how hot a forge should be and the best way to temper steel. Another day it might be Hullen with his endless horse talk, or Septon Chayle from the library, or Jory, or Ser Rodrik, or even Old Nan with her stories. Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father's table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children. Fat Tom used to call her "Arya Underfoot," because he said that was where she always was. She'd liked that a lot better than "Arya Horseface."

[bumblewarden]

(brosca voice) Epic fail!

[laurellerual]

Arya remembering her father's teachings:

"Let me tell you something about wolves, child. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths. 

…

Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. "Know the men who follow you," she heard him tell Robb once, "and let them know you. Don't ask your men to die for a stranger." At Winterfell, he always had an extra seat set at his own table, and every day a different man would be asked to join him. One night it would be Vayon Poole, and the talk would be coppers and bread stores and servants. The next time it would be Mikken, and her father would listen to him go on about armor and swords and how hot a forge should be and the best way to temper steel. Another day it might be Hullen with his endless horse talk, or Septon Chayle from the library, or Jory, or Ser Rodrik, or even Old Nan with her stories.

…

Father had always said that most sellswords would betray anyone for enough gold.

…

Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his greatsword. "If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look him in the face and hear his last words," she'd heard him tell Robb and Jon once.

…

She remembered hearing her lady mother tell Father to put on his lord's face and go deal with some matter.

[heniareth]

Oh, Grey Warden: Chapter 6

The Joining

Morrigan lead them down a winding path that they’d never have found on their own through a grove of trees already dark with the shadows of approaching dusk. They arrived at a small hut partially constructed on stilts. Two statues, both headless, flanked the path in front of the cabin. The wind hissed through the reeds at the shore of the lagoon that surrounded the hut. In front of the building, as if waiting for them, stood an old woman. She was, in all but in the very basic features that nature had given her, the complete opposite of Morrigan: greasy, unkept hair where Morrigan’s was glossy and carefully pulled back into a bun; torn and mended clothes that looked terribly ordinary where Morrigan’s were showy and clean; bent shoulders where Morrigan held her chin very high. The only thing that was exactly the same, Astala realized, were their eyes: sharp, cold, and an unnatural golden color that gleamed in the light of the setting sun.

“Greetings, Mother,” Morrigan said in a terribly formal way, “I bring before you five Grey Wardens who-”

“I see them, girl,” Morrigan’s mother cut her off and studied them intently and without blinking. “Mmm. Much as I expected.”

It’s here it’s here it’s here!!!!!!! They’re going through the Joining!!! Poor fellas, it’s not gonna be fun. I promise the first chapter of the next installment will be something fun. They need a break. I am preemptively wishing you a very happy 2023 and the loveliest weekend you’ve had until now!! Take good care of yourselves ^^

[vanmarkham]

collecting the funny da4 protagonist options

nathaniel howe's nephew

superman from the origins cameo

ser jory's half-orphaned son

ETA

bevin (pls give him sword related warden trauma as a possible backstory dependent on the Keep)

the kid that is creepy to the warden in Haven during urn of sacred ashes

[asongoficeandfiresource]

The king had appropriated Ser Raymun’s audience chamber, and that was where Ned found them. The room was crowded when he burst in. Too crowded, he thought; left alone, he and Robert might have been able to settle the matter amicably.

Robert was slumped in Darry’s high seat at the far end of the room, his face closed and sullen. Cersei Lannister and her son stood beside him. The queen had her hand on Joffrey’s shoulder. Thick silken bandages still covered the boy’s arm.

Arya stood in the center of the room, alone but for Jory Cassel, every eye upon her. “Arya,” Ned called loudly. He went to her, his boots ringing on the stone floor. When she saw him, she cried out and began to sob.

Ned went to one knee and took her in his arms. She was shaking. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he said. She felt so tiny in his arms, nothing but a scrawny little girl. It was hard to see how she had caused so much trouble. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Her face was dirty, and her tears left pink tracks down her cheeks. “Hungry some. I ate some berries, but there was nothing else.” -- Eddard III, A Game of Thrones