#dragon age oc challenge

[telanadasvhenan]

A first rough draft of Lea’s starting Armour! This isn’t for sure his final design but these are some of my thoughts & notes on how his clan makes their armour! I read a fantastic post (I can’t find it now :[ ) on Dalish textures & clothing so I wanted to try and think more on why his armour looks the way it does. But this works for his first reference (^_^) I’m likely to redo it when l finally design his trespasser & da:tv looks

[persimminwrites]

always crazy to see three days of effort condensed into 60 seconds lmao but here is the timelapse for this piece!

[noahmoza]

2024 Art Summary!

Happy New Year ❤️

[fvngus]

Me the day I created Kiki. Meme under the cut

[doriansbutt]

this is the most in character Flynn has been so far

[nerrels]

13. A message between two companions about Rook

28. Propaganda for or against Rook

Thanks @queenmuzz for ask! :D Sorry it took forever for respond!

13. A message between two companions about Rook

Virida Aldwir:

You noticed letter on Neve’s desk. It seems written in Bellara’s handwriting:

Hey, Neve!

Remember how I was upset after losing my toolset on last mission in Arlathan ruins?

I found them! Well, not actually me. Virida did it.

Today, when I came back to my room, my lost equipment was on the table with silly note next to it!

I want to properly thank Virida for spending her free time just to find it.

How do you think, what would be the best? Nice meal or maybe something useful? Like new sketchbook? Or maybe something for her blades?

Small note was attached to letter. Written by Virida:

“Be careful next time!”

There’s doodle of proudly halla with toolset in her mouth graciously running away from horde of darkspawns.

28. Propaganda for or against Rook

Virida Aldwir:

You find damaged poster of Venatori propaganda:

Be not fooled by their lies!

Kill the the leader of resistance! Bring her head and our gods will generously reward you for your service.

There’s stylized portrait of viciously looking Virida with two swords

Rook Codex Writing Prompts - link

[paigebstorey]

Upcoming Prompt Challenges?

So, I only very recently discovered that Witchtember was a thing, and I wanted to make sure that I was aware of what all the prompt challenges for October are.

Here are the ones I am aware of so far:

Dragon Age-tober (actually called DA-tober; also, I have not played the game)

Digitaltober (as in Digital Circus — FYI, I personally, have not seen the show)

Inktober

Monstober

OC-Tober

Pretty Boytober

Spooktober

Whumptober

Witchtober

Am I missing any? Please let me know.

[exalted-dawn]

RULES: post a 24-hour poll containing two truths and one lie about your OC. Have your followers try to guess which is the lie. I was tagged by @dreadfutures

Find The Lie: Talenna Ethera

Art by @alienturnip

Tagging forward to (optional!) @oxygenforthewicked | @pickelda | @theluckywizard | @kiastirling | @breninarthur

@ammoniteflesh | @thebookworm0001 | @ammocharis | @alienturnip | @nananarc

[what-bot]

I decided to do a quick Blorbos of the Year board. You may notice some patterns.

(The two dudes in the middle right are my OCs who have each been intermittent blorbos since their creation but they couldn’t be on the whole chart now could they)

[megthemariner]

First Line Challenge

Rules: post the first line of your wip, the first line you worked on today, or any other "first line!"

Thanks for the tag, @crabs-with-sticks! Your make-meg-post-her-writing agenda is succeeding lol

This is the first line of ch. 1 of Lost & Found:

At first he thinks she must be fearless, with the way she throws herself headfirst into every situation, combat or otherwise.

Tagging @rosieofcorona @rowanisawriter @cursedhaglette I love reading everything you all write <3

[suranastair]

@14dayscirclemages

This is Part 1 of a writing challenge for my Dragon Age Origins OC Selph Surana.

Tumblr Links: | 1 | 2 |

~ Prompt 1: Upbringing ~

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62724109/chapters/160576507

Rating: Teen & Mature

Warnings/Tags: Bullying, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Servitude, Good ol' Racism against elves/mages in Thedas.

Word Count: 1,639

Summary: After some confrontation, Selph finds solace in her favorite spot by the river. Something else may have found her as well...

It hadn’t rained in a fortnight, and the river was low that evening. As a result, Selph sat lower on her usual bank to dangle her feet in the lazy flowing stream. The cold was a stark contrast to the hot and darkening welt around her eye. A part of her wished she could dunk her head beneath the water, but then she’d smell like fish. Well, even more like fish.

She gnawed at the swollen part of her lower lip, tasting the blood and making the wound she sustained worse. Returning to the village now would be for the best, but either way she would get the switch. After all, she did humiliate the mayor’s daughter and her friends.

“She had it coming,” Selph told herself, flipping some of the water up with a foot. “Frost can happen whenever. It’s random, stupid! It’s not my fault the crops died! It’s…not my fault…”

Pulling herself into a ball, Selph began to cry, letting the earth around her encase her in a pseudo embrace. She missed her papae—her father. More and more as of late. Terrible dreams were keeping her up at night, dreams that woke her from the deepest confines of sleep. Sometimes, she felt like she wouldn’t wake, feared it.

But she didn’t want to trouble Eira with this nightmare talk. It would only bring trouble, and her stepmother had enough to worry about now that she was raising Selph alone. A human, let alone a servant, raising an orphaned elf was already problematic.

Even still, Eira loved Selph, deeply and wholly. Just like she had loved Selph’s father. He left his clan to be with her, had brought Selph with him. Selph had been young, too young to remember much of their departure out of the northern outskirts of the Brecilian Forest. The memory was a thickened haze for her now.

What she did know, what she held onto, was that her father loved her. Always. He had cared for her alone and through the grief he carried of the loss of his vhenan—Selph’s birth mother. Eira made him smile, made him sing like he used to around the bonfires with the clan. To Selph, Eira was a walking miracle.

And then he died.

Selph pulled herself into a tighter ball, desperately trying to push down the resurfacing memories and emotions that came with them. The earth around her seemed to shift, cradle her further as she was attempting to do to herself.

No. Not the earth. It was a…presence? It was warm, like a blanket fresh from a sunny day’s laundry line. A soothing balm of whispers reached her ears, nothing coherent, but comforting all the same. Selph was suddenly drowsy; her eye throbbed less, her skinned knees didn’t burn, and she stopped chewing on her lip as the freckled scrunch of her nose and brows untensed. Soon, she found herself laying on the scratchy grass of the bank. A prickly feeling transformed into one of utmost comfort, and her consciousness slipped into slumber.

The sun began to set, and the nightmares eluded Selph. Only upon hearing her name cut through the cooing voices did she stir.

Eira rounded one of the trees to Selph’s spot. Her large brown eyes were always calm, always kind. The pull of her mouth into a thin line conveyed otherwise. “Thought I’d find you here.”

Selph yawned and stretched, feeling lightweight and refreshed. Eira came into view as her vision adjusted, as did the rest of her forested surroundings. The sun had dipped behind mountain peaks in the far distance—a sign to Selph that she had stayed out too long.

“What time is it?” Selph rubbed crust from her emerald eyes, dirt from her bangs, and started a quick and loose braid of her lengthy hair. She scrambled up to complete the brush-off of her person.

“Late,” Eira said, stepping forward to help Selph get any missed spots off her oversized smock and breeches. “We’ve got barn duty.”

Selph turned toward her guardian with a smile, realizing then that her blackened eye was now in full view. As was her swollen lip and suspicious grass stains on her knees hiding the scrapes she got when she was shoved to the ground.

Eira wasn’t angry. In fact, the façade of anger she wanted to portray fell from her expression, promptly replaced with one of sympathy. “Halwen told me what happened.”

With a frown, Selph crossed her arms. “Did she? Or did she spin you a story again, gossip gab that she is?”

Kneeling down to meet her stepdaughter’s height, her loose bob of dark curls shifting, Eira tapped her forehead to Selph’s. “She spun me a story, obviously.”

Selph tried to hide her relieved smile, reaching out to hug Eira tightly. Eira picked her up and spun her around, and Selph let out a weak giggle before planting back to the ground.

Eira then grasped Selph’s hands, her eyes welling with tears. “I promise you, Selph, we’ll be able to leave this place soon. But until then—”

“I know.” Selph cut her off with a sudden huff.” But I didn’t kill the crops! Adelaide and her goons are idiots! From a family of idiots! Frosts happen, right? I’ve read a buncha books on it! And we’re in a part of Ferelden that gets cold! I mean, colder than most of Ferelden, but still!”

“Selph—”

“I didn’t do it! I’m not cursed!” She paused to take a breath. “I’m not a cursed knife-ear…”

Eira pulled her into another hug. “No. You’re not. Not at all. You’re a blessing, the biggest blessing I could have asked for along with you father, Maker rest him.” Her last words were choked.

Selph never knew her mamae. She died giving birth to her. But Eira was everything she could have wanted in a mother and more. She taught Selph to read and write, her falling into hard times and becoming a servant a betrayal to her educated background. Her roots were from Rivain, but her immediate family was from the Free Marches. All Selph knew at the time was that she left them behind in pursuit of better opportunities in Ferelden. Eira did her best with what she could, even if Selph didn’t fully believe it at times. Selph would look back on all Eira did—all she tried to do—with affection and amity.

However, at present, she wept in Eira’s arms in anger and sorrow only she felt she could understand. Emotions came back in a flood, as did the gentle blanket of warmth. It now surrounded her and Eira both, became a calming presence once again to the anguished girl.

With a big sniffle, Selph then inquired about it to Eira. The woman looked around, a breeze lifting some leaves around them before falling back to the ground. For a split second, her eyes glazed and hardened. Selph didn’t see.

“No, but I believe you,” Eira said, “and I think the pressure of another harrowing day of dealing with a bunch of spoiled brats is taking its toll.” She dropped her tone to a whisper toward the end, the fear of her status always at the forefront of her actions.

“Right…” Disappointment coated her words.

“Let’s get you back home, yeah? We’ll feed the livestock and join Halwen in the kitchen. Together.”

Selph scrunched her brows. “But I’m supposed to be on net duty with Eliot this eve.��� She grumbled, kicking a stone after pulling on her shoes. “Stupid smelly fish.”

Eira couldn’t help but let out a belly laugh at that. “You told me you enjoyed net duty with old man Eliot!”

“When I can bathe after! Adelaide said she was gonna tell her dad to take my bath privileges away. Then I’d be a cursed and smelly knife-ear.”

“I see.” Eira frowned at the repeated pejorative. “Then I shall just have to relinquish my bathing privileges as well!” She placed her hands on her hips, lifting her chin to the tinted orange sky. “And then I’ll get Halwen to relinquish hers, and so on and so forth, until the whole village is rank with our rebellion!”

Selph blew a flippant raspberry. “Halwen will stop bathing when a pig sits on the Sunburst Throne.”

Eira laughed once again. “Too true, my child. Too true. Anyway, let’s get you home. A cool cloth for that eye and some elfroot rub for your lip and knees will do you good. Then we’ll get to our evening chores, get you a hot meal, and get you to your bed just in time to read a few chapters of your book, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Selph felt tears well in her eyes again, repeating, “Yeah.”

Selph took Eira’s hand, but not before glancing at her reflection in the stream. Selph stopped breathing. Next to her and Eira was a pale, human-like figure. Their features were barely visible in the sun’s setting light, but there was clearly a third person with them.

Eyes widening, Selph felt the start of a yelp bubble up from her chest. It was quashed when the figure slowly gifted her a wave. The calming, warm sensation returned to envelop her with the gesture, and Selph found herself smiling and waving back.

“Selph?” Eira tugged on the young girl’s hand. “Sweetheart?”

“I’m glad I get to come here when I want,” Selph said with genuine excitement, ignoring Eira’s open concern before finally snapping back to the present. “Sorry! Let’s go!”

The young elf then bounded off ahead of Eira, her energy renewed. Once again, Selph didn’t see her stepmother’s eyes glaze and harden. Even if she had, it was impossible for Eira to convey only what she had felt: the icy chill of a bad feeling creeping up her spine.

[midmorninggrey]

Cal Notes (Act 2 & 3)

A Brief Word on Cal's Magic and Health Cal is an unusually gifted force mage. This talent can be beautiful; he can feel all the threads of energy keeping a bird on a branch, and all the threads waiting to pull the bird into flight. However, if he magnifies energy beyond its natural limits, his magic becomes a weapon of war. This power does not come without a cost. Manipulating energy threads often comes with the risk of rebounding force on Cal's body. The most common damage caused by this reflected energy are small fractures in his extremities, particularly his fingers and toes. Even with treatment, these force fractures never completely mend, and without regular healing spells, they will begin to slowly break again. The continued trauma eventually led to the amputation of three of his fingers and two of his toes. After years of fighting Darkspawn, Cal also began to experience occasional episodes of dizziness and loss of coordination. During his last months serving as a Grey Warden in Ferelden and his first year in Kirkwall, Cal spent an enormous amount of magical energy keeping his body able to fight. This was unsustainable, and Cal's ability to heal himself eventually became significantly less effective and his symptoms returned. Regular visits to Anders help with his mobility and pain, although his symptoms can have unpredictable flare-ups or remissions.

[persimminwrites]

process for this! bottom right panel is still my favorite i just love her profile <3333

[teine-mallaichte]

First Line Challenge

Tagged by @glowing-blue-feathermage

Varric’s grin grew wider, his hands gesturing with exaggerated flair. “Of course! I have many contacts. You should know that by now.” He paused, before adding, “But don’t worry, you’ll like this one."

Rook!Storm is getting so close to the start to Veilguard now!!! He's an hour away from the opening scene 😅

tagging! as much as I love being tagged in these things I do feel awkward tagging others 😅 so no pressure: @lottiesnotebook @kiastirling-fanfic @miladydewintcr

[hellomehlo]

getting trashed with Bull because WE SLEW A HIGH DRAGON 🤩

[ghostwise]

may writing challenge day 1, 316 words letter intercepted out of dalish territories, 9:31 Dragon

Dear Alistair,

(Or Warden Commander Theirin, I should say.)

I’ve settled down somewhat in Var’myathan, enough to finally sit and calmly pen these words to a friend. Things are not really well here, but I will not bore you with details that have no doubt reached your ears already. Nothing grows here, and Darkspawn stragglers still roam these Blighted lands, aimlessly. You cut off the head and the muscles keep twitching, but I know you Wardens are on the task. That so many youth from the Alienage and from the clans took up the Joining despite all risk speaks to yours and Hamal’s impact. It brings one comfort.

Much is happening ‘politically’, but I never had the disposition for that sort of thing. Can’t stomach hearing of it, I end up too frustrated or worried. The Dalish have our work cut out for us. But we will do what needs be done, as we always have. We aim to establish a university. Imagine.

Myself, I am ‘hanging in there’ as you might say.

Could I visit sometime? Hamal and Zevran are gone and left no address. You know how it is. And though I hoped otherwise, Clan Sabrae declined the invitation to join our efforts here. In fact, many clans are opting out. There is so much bustle now, and we are to begin to live again, as if those awful things did not happen.

Are you doing well? Have you heard from the others? Send my regards to Jowan, and any who may receive them.

My present address is enclosed. If and when I depart, I will leave word, so do write back despite length of time.

Your friend,

Mathuin

The enclosed letter was intercepted en route to Vigil's Keep ser. If the Warden Commander fosters close connections with the Dalish it might very well sway public opinion, especially in Amaranthine. Could be of use.