#and the trevelyans are known for their strong chantry ties

[vhyral]

Noone's around so! it's the perfect time to talk about my cryptids Trevelyan family.

First, Bann Jean-Phillipe Andrien of Ostwick. The Trevelyans in my canon hold from an old line of merchants, sea masters that arrived at the city when she was still young and freshly built and made her the center of their operations. They brought much coin to Ostwick and secured themselves a place amongst the nobility by a series of clever marriages, deals and offering a steady stream of jobs to the general public. The extensive network of blood relatives to the Trevelyan family derived from all the Trevelyan kids that for years and years refused to sit their asses down and sailed instead, using their charm to find suitors in faraway noble bloodlines. Jean-Phillipe sailed too when he was young, only briefly yet he retains the merchant genious of his anchestors; the Trevelyans are the most wealthy of the noble families of Ostwick and control quite a bit part of the city's trade. The Bann does not shy away from "new money" as much as the rest of the big five families and regularly trades with Ostwick's Grain Lords.

Lady Bedelia Adalyn Callista Trevelyan - Van Markham, previously of Nevarra. Callista is a gifted sculptor and musician, a firm woman of noble birth that carried with her her unparalleled Nevarran talent to plan and set in motion the most efficient plans for whatever she wants to achieve. Though her husband often calls her His General, Mother Trevelyan worked hard to bring Nevarran art to the Free Marches instead of war advice. Festivals organized by her every Spring and Fall are very highly regarded in the Free Marches and many nobles travel from afar to make an appearance. Callista has a sharp instinct when it comes to taking care of her family' social standing and expects from her children to respectfully uphold both their famed heritages.

Their firstborn son, Claude Ernest Valentin, First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi of Ostwick. Valentin was born a charismatic leader and speaker, a people's magnet and loved by all since he was a child. Having the makings of the perfect heir and being the apple of his parents' eyes, he manifested his magic at the age of eleven in a glorious shower of sparkles raining down his birthday cake.

The revelation came as a blow to everyone and especially Valentin himself but his parents, Callista heavy with child, did not give up on him. They could not keep him from the Circle but they did their best to make sure the boy did not feel forgotten. They visited regularly, pushed through their old ties to the Templar Order and the Chantry, donated generous amounts of coin to the Circle. And after a period of one and a half years of battling with depression, Valentin thrived. He studied and excelled, used his noble training to his advantage and grew into a fair First Enchanter with strong connections within Ostwick's Templars and Chantry, strengthening the Trevelyans' standing even within the Circle. Twice a year his mages exited their tower, attending his mother's festivals and interracting with Ostwick's people, citing ancient Nevarran traditions.

The secondborn brother and future head of the family, Simon Basil Bastien, living in Valentin's charismatic shadow of what-could-have-been and managing to emerge from it by his own intelligence and trade smarts. Though never as sociable as his older brother, Basil was born with the very potent combination of his father's trade genius and his mother's capabilities of counting possible outcomes and choosing the best one for him and his own. More strict than Valentin ever was, he demands the best from everyone because he is always giving it his own. Basil began taking care of the family's finances from very early on, after his own demand and under his father's watchful guidance. Both of his parents are very proud of him and as the current heir of the Trevelyan family, he is well received by the rest of the noble families. His social skills are the result of hard work and, though he would never admit it, Basil likes nothing less than meaningless chatter and nothing more than a tranquil garden with a book in his hands and a good, aged red in his glass.

The only Trevelyan daughter, "Lycoris" Maelle Rosette, the White Rose of Ostwick. Socially gifted but completely uninterested in it unless there's something to gain. Rosette was promised to the Chantry as an infant after a particularly high fever that had her parents turn to the Maker for mercy for their baby girl. She did not though fit well in the Cloister and the Sisters made sure to let her family know that the girl was more into studying science and uncovering secrets than learning the Chant. Taking life in her own hands, Rosette soon brushed aside the private tutors her parents had gotten her. Instead, she applied to the University of Orlais, bringing her acceptance letter to her parents with her suitcases already packed. They agreed, unsure but intrigued and Rosette, now naming herself Lycoris, bloomed in the Orlesian Capital, an eager student of chemistry, alchemy and human anatomy. There she also met her first Bardmaster and was called to study the art of spies, an offer her own love for secrets and intrigue would never allow her to deny. Lady Josephine Montilyet became a good friend through this training for they shared the same tutor and even though the antivan girl never finished her courses, the two of them kept their friendship. From the end of her studies and on, Lycoris used her Bard status to further her own network; not much is publicly known but she has since worked as a middlewoman for her family's trade affairs that reach outside the Free Marches.

The last son, Damian Regis Antoine Trevelyan, commonly known and introduced as Antony. Being the youngest son, he had his life mapped out for him from a very early age; he was to serve as a connection between his family and the Chantry, dedicating his life to the Templar order. Having been raised as a devout Andrastian and being easy going by nature, the path of the Templar Knight felt like a secure guideline to the boy and a sure, safe way to benefit his family. Beside his Templar duties, Antony also breezed gracefuly through the circles of nobility in Ostwick, with the naivety of youth and the charm of a high quality education. While though, the young man was always eager to please, he had no care for politics or the Grand Game, something that made both Bann Trevelyan and Basil anxious. More than a few times had Antony received warnings from the heads of the family to keep more to his religious training and be careful in social events but social life chased after him even when he pretended to try and stay away from it. When the war between Templars and Mages erupted, began the most confusing part of his life, filled with a sense of insecurity he had never experienced before. Suddenly, being a Templar wasn't the esteemed profession it used to be and, even though most of Ostwick's Templars remained faithful to the Chantry and there were very few cases of knights abandoning their positions, witnessing part of the Order throw its honour to the mud was a big shock for him. When the announcment of the Conclave reached Ostwick, it shined like a beacon of hope for Antony; he had been stewing in Ostwick's Circle for months, bothered by the lack of responce from the Chantry in a time of great need and feeling his faith being shaken. When it was decided that his sister, Lycoris, would accompany their oldest brother, Valentin, to the Conclave, he stubbornly insisted for the first time in his life to join the select troop that would guard the First Enchanter through his journey to Haven.

[carterashofficial]

3, 14, 15, 25, and 27 for Alda and cullen! (or anyone you'd like!) :)

OF COURSE ALDA AND CULLEN (since I’m in the middle of a deep fascination with Dragon Age this is perfect)

3. When they are having a fight, what is it about and how do they deal with it?

At first, before they’re a couple (and even before romantic feels), Alda and Cullen butt heads over Mages and Templars. He isn’t happy that she gave the Mages the run of Haven, making them allies and not conscripts. He knows that there’s little he can do to change that, though. 

When they are a couple, their disagreements are few and far between, usually over personal things like whether or not they should invite their families to visit Skyhold (after Corypheous the Angry Geode is defeated); different ways to handle pompous nobles, military matters; etc… Usually they compromise or let the one with more experience choose the path of action.

There is one war-table operation neither will concede to the other on. It’s the option to send Inquisition scouts to help Chantry Sisters who’re administering to wounded Inquisition soldiers and need help getting to Skyhold (or something like that). The scouts are going after Red Templars. Cullen doesn’t want to pull the scouts away from the Templars; they could hurt more people if they aren’t stopped. Alda wants to send the scouts to help the soldiers; shouldn’t they be loyal to their men? Those soldiers need to know the Inquisition has their back. 

It leads to them deciding to not discuss said mission but then they’re both slightly frustrated with the other until they talk it out. Cullen fears for innocents getting hurt by the Templars and Alda won’t leave soldiers behind, she won’t abandon them. They both see the other has valid points. Alda, being the Inquisitor, sends the scouts to get the soldiers. Cullen doesn’t approve, but he understands.

The biggest fight they ever had was over the rules of chess because each of them had identical rule books, only with one rule different from the other. Leliana had to send for a third rule book to get them to play chess and blow off steam.

4. Is their anything they associate with each other?

Alda associates the stench of wet fur with him, courtesy of his furs he wears (and also the Mabari doggo he rescues and doesn’t train to get off their couch). There are other, more pleasant, things too. The soft clicks of chess pieces being set down on a board, soap from a bath, the special oil he uses to keep his sword sharp and polished.

Cullen’s first time meeting Alda, she stank of elfroot and other healing herbs. She’s always dusty, dirty, sweaty from travels when she returns to Skyhold, but her fancy floral soap is intoxicating and every time he smells roses, she jumps to mind. And a thick wool scarf makes him recall the one she tied around his neck one winter before he had to head out in the snow to take the Mabari out.

15. How do they think each other sees the other, and is this different from their own view of themselves?

oooh, this is a tough question; and if anything; Alda would think that Cullen sees her as an exception to other Mages; and example to lead them by. Cullen hopes Alda sees him as competent and strong; not the pained mess he was when the lyrium withdrawal was at it’s worst.

In truth, Alda sees Cullen as a man who’s seen the worst humanity has to offer and he’s still standing. Parts of him might’ve shattered, but he’s still strong. He still possesses hope, honor, and compassion. Cullen sees Alda as a woman who doesn’t want to be the so-called ‘Chosen One’ but takes the mantle and leads with grace and a sharp mind.

Their actual views aren’t that different. 

25. Share any headcanons about their relationship.

WELL MY FRIEND THERE ARE A LOT

there is a slight rivalry between Blackwall and Cullen over Alda because both of them admire her

they are known to use dry wit and jibes over the war table, for example, Alda: “Cullen, I must say admit that I overheard you and Varric talking, and I agree with Varric. You do look far to serious.” Cullen has his own remarks to spark playful outrage, one of which is “perhaps we should ask Lady Trevelyan about the subject. The Free Marches are known for their… old-fashioned tastes.”

Leliana is secretly very invested in getting them together and plays matchmaker and is responsible for various instances, including:

“The Inquisitor and Commander were accidentally locked in the wine cellar somehow”

“The Inquisitor and Commander were locked in the stables together”

“The Inquisitor and Commander went on a mission but were shorted a bedroll”

“The Inquisitor and Commander both had separate accidents where perfume/cologne were spilled on them before a meeting.’

Alda turns the Lucky Coin into a pendant and wears it around her neck. When she’s nervous over Cullen, she plays with it and sometimes it’s pressed to her lips in a clenched fist. Cullen doesn’t know she’s turned it into a necklace until they sleep together, and she takes off her tunic and there’s the coin, hanging around her neck.

When Sera put an entire beehive in Cullen’s training dummy, he got stung on the back of the neck and Alda insisted on checking it, even after he saw a healer. “You’re lucky it isn’t swelling and too painful,” she says. Cullen looks at her in confusion because the average bee sting shouldn’t. As it turns out, Alda is allergic to bee stings.

Alda as an enormous fear of deepstalkers, thanks to some getting into the Ostwitck Circle when she was about nine and chasing after her when she snuck to the kitchens for hot chocolate. She was found the next morning locked in the pantry and sobbing. In Skyhold, some deepstalkers get into the dungeons and the whole of Skyhold is treated to seeing Alda run screaming with blind fear out of the dungeons before she blasts the dungeon door with enough lightning to petrify it. Cullen teases her lightly about it a few days later.

Sera tried to convince Cullen that women love dirty talking to ‘get in the mood’ so Cullen tried to ask Varric for one of his romance books to teach himself how to talk dirty. The end result was Varric laughing for hours at Cullen taking that suggestion from Sera and telling the poor Commander than Alda is not one of those ladies.

they are both cuddlers in bed; Cullen sleeping on his belly, arm outstretched and draped possessively over Alda, one ankle hooked around one of her feet. She’s got one of her arms over his, sleeping on her side and facing him.

Each of them have little memento boxes filled with things that remind them of the other. A lock of Alda’s hair, tied in a bright ribbon, the end of a broken pommel of a sword he’d once used, initials C.S.R. carved into it.

There’s always a chess game going on in their room; sometimes it takes weeks for them to finish it, sometimes they’re done within an hour.

Cullen rarely travels to go on missions but he goes to South Fereldan to the Fallow Mire to help rescue the soldiers that’ve been taken hostage. As they approach a village on the way there, children come running towards them and offer the Herald of Andraste flower crowns and smiles. Alda wears the crowns, and those that don’t fit her head get braided into her horse’s mane. She gives on to Cullen and he’s too enthralled with how pretty she looks to say no.

A rumor goes around Skyhold that Alda and Dorian are an item and Dorian cackles at it because Alda isn’t his type and Alda has to admit she’s seeing someone

Alda and Cullen keep their relationship hidden so well that any rumor about them is as believed as rumors of her and Dorian or Cullen and Cassandra (that is to say, no one believes any rumors but some are favorites). Only Leliana knows the truth (and Alda and Cullen, naturally). Alda’s parents keep trying to play matchmaker for her and Cullen’s mother and sisters write the occasional letter on how lovely some ladies in the Inquisition must be; are any special to him? And of course, Josie s constantly getting marriage proposals for the two of them in the mail.

27. What makes you excited about their relationship?

literally everything because of the angst and devotion and affection they have for the other

[noblesorrow-archive2]

Ostwick

Ostwick is one of the coastal city-states in the free marches. As it is normal for free-marchers, Ostwickans speak the Trade Tongue and follow the Chantry. Since the sudden arrival in from Qunari and subsequent invasion the Storm Age, the once peaceful and calm Ostwickans grew more and more wary of such surprises. Now, it is normal for parents to teach their children basic techniques with a martial weapon since tender ages. The weapons each family teaches depends on what their predecessors first used to defend themselves against the horned people and many are just what the peaceful Ostwickans had with them at the time. Sharpened tools like chisels or oversized blunt tools like hammers. It is not uncommon for an Ostwickan smith to be proficient with a warhammer.

The Chantry assisted Ostwick with both shelter for the terrorized people and with armed forces, the templars. Since then, templars have a respectable, influential position in Ostwick. One that comes with responsibilities grown from the Qunari induced paranoia. It is custom in Ostwick for Templars to provide martial training to people who wish to defend themselves. Being a Templar in Ostwick is a position of respect, people often go to the templars seeking fame or respect from their peers. Children love stories of how the great templars defended them from the horned heathens with great lines in front of local chantries and it is frequent to find them playing with wooden shields and swords while using mock Templar tabards to fight pretend qunari, other children with fake horns made from sticks and some rope.

While nobles defended themselves better, it is common for nobles that are not in probable line of succession to enlist themselves in the templars or go to clergy. The Ostwick Council, after the qunari invasion, ordered a dual layered wall to be erected around Ostwick and are now famous for it. Tal Vashot trying to make a living in Ostwick have trouble finding legal work as they are frequently accused for crimes they didn't commit while performing their duties. The legal powers in Ostwick, the guard, do not make a real effort to find a real culprit, even if the story provided by those involved has inconsistencies. The populace is usually happy with a Qunari conviction. It is common knowledge that some of the more fervent Qunari haters commit crimes on purpose just to convict the grey people. One of the only places Tal Vashot are treated like equals is in the Ostwick circle, since mages are ostracized normally, horned or otherwise. Mages in the circle are mostly Aequitarian, having no strong beliefs about mage freedom or leashing.

Much like the other two major Free March city-states, Ostwick does not count on a king to rule it, but instead a Teyrn. The title comes from when Maferath's son, Evrion, came to the Free Marches after it was conquered from the Tevinter Imperium. An alamarri tribe member, whose name has been lost to time but nickname remains, the Ox, united the tribes surrounding the area and formed the city Ostwaeck in the Black Age (4:46), later renamed to Ostwick. He united them with the help of the Chantry in exchange for a contribution to the exalted march against the Imperium and its Imperial Chantry. The valorous deeds of the Ox and his tribesmen in the exalted marches are frequently the subject of tales and art pieces in Ostwick. Descendants of generals in his army constitute now the Noble families that participate in Ostwick's Council. Notable families include the Trevelyan House, that served under the Ox as one their prominent tacticians.

While the Ox’s appearance has been lost to history, he is depicted in statues scattered through Ostwick wearing a horned helmet and using his signature dwarven warhammer, Lumina, which was said to emit blue light. This blue light was said to come from an enchantment in the warhammer and to better depict it, Ostwick sculptors embed lyrium into their sculptures to represent it. The irony of the similarity between the horned statues of the Ox and the Qunari invaders is not lost on Ostwick's minstrels.

Sculpting is one of the most famous trades Ostwick is known for, followed by their surface Bronto cheese. More than one famous sculptor came from Ostwick's famous Sculptor's Hall, including Hainor Drell, whose depiction of Andraste and the Ox kneeling before her stands tall in Ostwick's main square in upper town, right in front of the Teyrn's palace. Hainor's works are highly sought for among Orlais and Tevinter nobility. The Sculptor's Hall has close ties to the Ostwick Circle since Tranquil assistants are required to perform lyrium folding into the sculptures.

Due to the martial training the Qunari invasion induced, small time crime has all but disappeared, as no small time thief wants to risk being stabbed or bludgeoned by an angry owner. Organized crime however, is still present. A smuggling ring named 'the Artisans' thrives in the city harbor, which despite their name, do not produce any works of art, in fact, they make them disappear from Ostwickan homes to sell it to foreign collectors.

[bloodandwinemuses]

FANTASY (MAIN & SUMMARY): 

A father and confidant once, Nolan wanted nothing more than normalcy. A nice job, a loving wife, a living child. Magic and beings of supernatural origins fascinated him on a theoretical level only. After all, he was the son of two determined researchers set out to discover new creatures thought extinct. Many believed them to be fanatics, readily sucking in myths and tales with no realistic roots to speak of. And truthfully, Nolan conceded, too. Until there were two losses: his son and parents. As life would have it, he had none of what he wanted. Afterwards, there was an ending: an amicable divorce. No ire, no nothing. The goal, then, was to regain something. His parent’s wish, slightly bent to a much more efficacious, long lasting result. The bestiary which they had almost religiously studied for so many decades was severely outdated. Possibly, one might ponder, the lack of knowledge had shoved death a little too close to Nolan’s parents. That, at last, became his one ambition, the voyage he would dedicate his life to. Nowadays, Nolan’s a wanderer, a rover traveling from town to town, country to country so long as his finances allow for it.

In summary, Nolan is always on the lookout for mutually beneficial relationships. Anyone willing to acquire rare scripts, rolls, or even potions ingredients work rather well as far as interactions go — especially other, non-human creatures. Like in his witcher verse, Nolan isn’t opposed to taking care of monster-related problems for his contacts, albeit Nolan will agree to do so reluctantly and never on the spot. Unlike witchers, he has neither undergone mutations, nor is he able to utilize simple yet effective combat magic. As such, he is heavily dependent on outside sources and relationships in business related matters.

PIRATE VERSE :

The product of generations of seasoned seamen in the merchant service, all Nolan had ever known in the same manner pious, virtuous men sought solace in prayer, was the sea. His boyhood, therefore, was spread out over years on board. The seaport in Bristol was his home, his childhood landscape - and the women left behind soon forgotten, for they would not live long. In a moment’s notice, it was just the two of them, father and son, sailing for their trade. In cloth and tobacco, they found their earnings - until even their skills as navigators and traders alike couldn’t prevent the capture of their ship by pirates. She was armed with forty-six guns and the crew relatively overwhelming at seventy men. To them, they were booty.

When Nolan’s father defied and refused to hand over their cargo,the captain, a tall, sunburnt personage with a wolfish, devious smile yet deceivingly dissolute appearance cut his throat - Nolan right at his side. His son, however, would demurely take the offer and voluntarily joined the crew. Quickly, it would seem, Nathaniel Flynn, his now alias, though referred to only as Nate, rose up in the ranks, popular amongst his fellow men. Though not necessarily a man of letters and not blessed with a liberal education, Nolan was a quick learner, articulate, and most importantly skilled as a navigator. Up he rose, claiming the title of quartermaster merely two years after he had joined the captain who had murdered his father in cold blood. Henceforth, those years were a ploy, till he, too, seized an opportunity to remove an unpopular captain to become captain himself. His predecessor, alas, had continually failed, neglected his promises to the crew, thereby keeping their purses, bellies empty whereas, on a calculated whim, Nolan had ensured just that months prior.

Why, however, did he take to piracy? Why did a man who was going to be a father take upon a career that would likely end with a noose around his neck? The answer, as ever, was simple. It was easy to provide, and it was swift. His trade and resources as a merchant, meanwhile, had slowly begun to dwindle - no chance to provide for his soon to be family. At sea, there was a side of his carefully kept under wraps on land, the side heavily armed, uncouth, and depicting the same cruelty with which his father had been killed - a reality no man, no father should ever let to the surface. Nolan, too, was lured by plunder and an easy life; a life that kept him grounded in fast-paced admiration by crew as well as his involvement with wealthy landowners who were to benefit from his exploits. And if he could amass gold within his numbered lifetime for his family, then Nolan would willingly await the trial just around the next bend. Should harm befall his wife and son, he knew his trusted friend, aristocrat, a man of letters, a personage of liberal education and good nature, would protect them in his name.

WITCHER (FANTASY/GAME-BASED/TINY BIT BOOK-BASED 

[only The Last Wish & currently reading Time of Contempt]

After a whole pack of creatures had ravaged the village Nolan had always called home and slaughtered his parents, only he managed to survive. Barely, as one might add, for two wayward witchers saved him from suffering the same fate in the nick of time. With no parents or home left, the boy begged to go wherever the path would lead them. Albeit reluctantly, they agreed. Once in Nilfgaard, he underwent extensive training early on, instructed by firm and relentless teachers. Having survived the rituals of the school of the viper, as was their wont, Nolan readily and quickly honed his skills. Bound to instructors and old witchers in a winding string of gratitude and solidarity, Nolan was soon exposed to ruthless mental conditioning as well. Barely a man, he nonetheless did not wield, eager to achieve. Every time Nolan showed a most curious resilience that was futher honed during his training, and tested again and again when subjected to alchemical procedures and instructed to consume mutagenic compounds. Despite the low survival rate of witchers, he survived.

Nolan proved a survivalist years later when the school was disbanded after an incident that remains in the shadows of history, brothers and teachers now scattered all across.

A life on the path, years spent accustomed to hostile whispers and accusative whispers about his fellow brothers, Nolan traveled from city to city, accepting contract after contract. Once a moralistic, good young fellow, he wouldn’t quarrel about the coin too much. Until his amicable nature in spite of a witcher’s infamy nearly had him killed. Wounded after a fight with a royal griffin who had plagued the farmers, he dared demand a little more for his efforts than what they had agreed upon. It was a royal griffin, after all, and as such warranted more coin.

His next memory remained foggy until this day, for he only remembered the blue eyes of a slender woman and the black tufts of hair of a boy. Her name was Dana, though she would scarcely ever reveal more in her lifetime.  She had found him bleeding out on a haystack behind the barns, and taken him in at her boy’s pleas.

Before long, Dana had changed his course, taken him away from a life on the path and given him a home and a family. But there was unrest in her veins, for she longed to update her bestiary and scrolls of rare herbs. A dangerous trajectory, surely, and yet Nolan offered to go with her. Love, as poets said, led to great folly.

The land was slick with blood and strife, for the years of the witch hunt were in full bloom and were just reaching its peak when the pair fell in the arms of witch hunters on horseback. These witch hunters would be Dana’s death sentence. They beheaded her  with a sword, zoned in on her like some beast. They claimed her son, too.  

Nolan did not sheathe his steel sword until every last of them had fallen.

Nowadays, one might encounter the scholar witcher in a tavern engrossed by some light reading. A researcher he had become, with only the occasional contract to complete should the financial need arise (and said need arose plenty) for he had his eyes on realizing her goal.

DRAGON AGE 

[All games but games only]

The house of Trevelyan has carried ample weight for centuries reaching back as far as […]. Somewhere set in […] it was their rich ancestry which  has ensured and strengthened their noble line for many years to come. Every member, even their youngest, are raised to memorize their history by heart, for it is pledge and proof simultaneously to commoners whispering too boldly behind their backs – the gossiping crowd predominantly being rivaling novelty.

Most praised for their summer balls, political prowess, and piety while feared for their strong connections to the chantry and the Templar order alike, only few have dared denounce a family whose whispers can reach even  king Markus’s  ears in times of crisis.

Much to their discreetly voiced displeasure upon their rank within Ostwick, a Trevelyan elder has always been instilled with an unquenchable demand for improved status among nobility. This house, for all its blood-stained history and might, has never turned down an alliance to advance their goals. A promise kept, however, is likely never going to become a sacred motto upon which their cold crest yet lingers.

Having grown up around opportunistic minds and prayer seeking hearts, Nolan knew from the very beginning none of his siblings were going to live through their boyhoods peacefully. Once taken from their weak grasps, each was carried off to different courts in Thedas, instructed from an early age to form connections beyond their distinguished ties. From advantageous marriages to courtships, his older siblings haven’t sullied their name; but contributed to Trevelyan infamy instead.

Nolan, though of noble blood, struggled to please insatiable parents whose roots have always inevitably, irrevocably been shielded by flame. In awe of the Maker, the tiniest blasphemous bluster from his lips was punished harshly – oftentimes with less philanthropic methods.

Unlike his siblings, Nolan lacked inherent grace for diplomacy, finding his political mind to be wanting also. At court, he would disgrace them in barely a month’s while and so they invoked their secondary plan, a trajectory laid out for a child whose tactless mouth would never cease to wreak havoc upon them all. In spite of his temper, he was to become a Templar. And truly, his parents sent him off wearing relieved smiles on tired features. Henceforth, the boy should be their nuisance.

Life at the circle

His adolescent years from then onwards never belonged to him. The Templar order is a bastion of order and tradition under which Nolan had never imagined to prevail. Reciting the chant of light while candles were burning down to their last flicker had his focus wavering to and fro ancient rolls in the mage’s library — documents Templar eyes weren’t meant to see. And yet, throughout his training figures of authority instilled in him principles, all of which Nolan devoured like fine wine as if he had never tasted so great an honor as to belong to something.  Eager to become a model student, the lad had swiftly charmed teachers and older Templars alike; they were shepherds to him heralding fate and structure in a world gone mad; they had become a family looking out for impressionable youths so as to guide them towards their full potential.

When first he was stationed to serve at the circle of Ostwick after his training had been completed, Nolan felt humbled by his new sense of purpose. Known for its sedate policies, the mages were largely content to live and let live. Surely, a handful of them would extend to him reproachful glances over their shoulders, venomous smiles; a message to signal they knew where armored shadows loomed day and night.

During those years leading up to the conclave, Nolan found a friend in the unlikeliest specimen: a mage, and not a loyalist as it would soon turn out. One night while he was wandering the corridors, plagued by midnight terrors, he spotted a figure sifting about in the library by dim haloes of candle light. A male mage barely a few heads shorter than he, cradling a book in pale hands — another stigma born out of their confinement. He knew. Approaching him silently, his hands moved away from his sheathed sword to indicate no harm was to befall the lad if no spell would be cast on him.  The mage, at last, glimpsed past book corners and stared, blankly, at the towering figure nearby. A gruff voice, then, bounced off silent walls, inquiring if he knew jack shite about herbalism. Nolan, feeling sheepish, shook his head no.

By the name of Ewan, a Templar had therewith found a mage teacher.

The Conclave

At Divine Justinia’s behest, all mages and Templars were to attend the conclave. Indeed, scarcely a soul failed to heed her call for peace between these more than estranged fractions. Ostwick, however, was one of the last to join fellow circles on their travels. Their soil stayed spotless; but this was not so for long. In secret those rebels had been gathering for months, slipping past Templar scrutiny aided by blood magic and advanced illusion spells to send them into slumbers. The cry for freedom, for independence had tempted their blood to boil, having molded obedience into all-encompassing rebellions. No more, so it would seem, was their motto, their creed which they clung to like mothers to their babes.  In the end, many a loyalist mage lost their life in the months leading up to Justinia’s bid until, alas, Ostwick’s floors had also been bloodied and stained, the taint of murder having sunken into castle walls. A senior enchanter, likewise, was strangled by one of her lambs through magical abilities she had thought to novices.  

Still having strong ties to the chantry, Nolan was the first candidate called upon to take the voyage to attend the conclave in company of a senior Templar as custom imposed. Only the night prior, a mage who had long since earned the title friend stepped into his room and pleaded to him, pleaded for flight in lieu of duty. As if on impulse, Nolan refused without kindness and gestured to the door as though they had never spoken as brothers did.

Ewan’s plea along with his panic had swayed him, though, conspiring him to choose a friend offering him freedom and identity over a family in gilded cages. For all his fond memories, for all those praise hymns earned, it had been his parents who had forced a child to become a servant of fate — not because they believed in their son, but because they feared still his deficiencies might ruin their legacy.  Ewan, meanwhile, was a true friend, a shelter of sorts, a mirror reflecting flaws, a chance for growth, for life.

He took it, that night, took it and turned his back.

He hasn’t looked back since.

Nowadays (After/during DA:I)

Appearances can be deceiving as even a peasant should know. If ever one spots a merchant caravan traveling throughout city, a towering figure standing next to a bloke rumored to be an assassin, the general consensus is, indeed, to avert one’s gaze and to lose any memory of their presence altogether. For where these two roam, trouble is afoot. Their names aren’t known, nor their outlawed status in Antiva in most of Thedas.

And yet still, their reputation bears not only the fruit of fear, but of efficacious infamy also. Fast lyrium smugglers, they claim to be, and have proven aplenty. Albeit not the only item these two willingly smuggle for coins, it’s their specialty. In scarcely a few years’ time, they have amassed a frightful list of contacts all across the lands, and know just whom to contact in the underworld to double their pay.  The giant, as he is called, often offers his sword, whether to slay beasts or men. The scarred one, meanwhile, is content to tend to wounds inflicted by the war. Hiding, more frequently than he would like, his magical aptitude.

As rumors would have it, they are lawless bandits without honor. This is not so if one fancies to follow their steps for longer than just noon. The scarred one and the giant alike have been seen twice and thrice feeding orphans or sneaking inside alienages to heal those too poor to afford proper care.

Bandits, they are. And yet also healers, herbalists, smiths, smugglers and brothers fighting to maintain their freedom.

Note: this verse can be adapted to fit into the events of DA:I so that these two could be active members or agents of the Inquisition depending on whether or not your Inquisitor believes their talents could be utilized.

Verses under construction: 

Tattoo shop verse (Normal) 

Crime Verse

AUs: 

Bounty Hunter verse with @secondhandmckie

Literally whatever else you peeps are up for.