#emerging like darkspawn

[emmg]

I’ve never played Dragon Age before but I’m being won over by all the thirst posting lmao, what’s the best DA game to start with? Idk if there’s like an overarching narrative or if they’re self contained plots or whatever.

Omg I somehow missed this which is unacceptable given how much I love ya lol

YEEEES, WELCOME TO THE DRAGON AGE SICKO SIDE, MWHAHAHA

Okay, so if you're not totally allergic to old graphics I highly recommend starting with Dragon Age: Origins. It's an absolute masterpiece in storytelling, but also wildly politically, errr, incorrect lmfao. And with mods it looks amazing

You get to have a dog who can read. I'm not making this up. He understands human speech perfectly and only uses it to beg for treats. You can also ask him if he has something for you (like Scratch in bg3) and when he doesn't, the game makes you want to kill yourself because the camera pans down into the most SHAME ON YOU angle on him I've ever seen and he looks defeated. It's amazing lol

Your companions in Origins are straight up insane. A huge warrior who steals cookies from a child and calls him fat. A living construct who was once a dwarf but there was a situation and she spent 30 years inert being shat on by pigeons and now she's on a personal quest to brutally murder all of them.

Did I mention there's a bisexual assassin elf who spends most of the game complimenting the group's grandma's boobs? I’m not sure it’s a "good" plot point, but it sure is a plot point.

You get to be rescued from prison by any of your companions. If the dwarf and elf go, they lie that they are brothers and it somehow works. Or the companions can end up naked. It’s insane, it’s absolutely fucking insane

Or you can start with DA 2 and experience the joy that is Purple Hawke (aka choosing the sarcastic dialogue option.) I present to you some of the classic lines:

"So I should be looking out for a bunch of boneless women flopping through the street?"

"Let's be more specific. I don't do anything that involves children or animals."

"You should pay someone else. Like me. I like being paid."

"I'd like to know who this "Corypheus" is. With a name like that, he's bound to go "mwa-ha-ha" at some point. I just know it."

In DA 2, you get to run around for YEARS (yeah actual years) with your found family that sort of hates each other, everyone, or almost, is bisexual, someone is possessed, and everyone is horny.

Inquisition is a great starting point, though, if you don't want to go too far back. It’s friendly to new players and very patient with your questions about "What is a dragon?" and "Why does everyone hate elves?" It rehashes everything you need to know so you’re not like, "Wait, what’s a Blight again?" Plus, it directly ties into the new game, Veilguard, which is even friendlier since 10 years passed between the two games and it has no choice but to be.

But really, I feel like all of them are good are introducing/rehashing the lore

Also if you want to experience the most life-devastating romance with the elven embodiment of a poetic egg, Inquisition and Veilguard got you covered. @thessaralka wrote many treatises on it lmfao

Pick up the games ok pls ty byyye

[felassan]

Thoughts on the new images of the Lighthouse Part 2. DA:TV spoilers under cut.

[Link to Part 1]

I ran out of image allowance on the first post so I'm putting the rest here in this post.

I think maybe this is Davrin's room. on the righthand side, there are floor-to-ceiling windows (one part of them even has curtains) or even the whole wall cut away - this would be perfect for allowing Assan to fly out and fly in as he came and went. ^^ Corinne Busche said this about Davrin's room:

"When you see Davrin’s room, you’d certainly assume he’d be up watching the sunrise with that view. If only it weren’t in the fade"

with windows so big or a wall cutaway, you can see why Davrin's room is said to have an amazing view like this. :D

On the right hand side of the room is lots of things you'd need if you were into wood-carving/whittling, which is implied for Davrin by what he's doing in the Lighthouse group shot: stool, workbench/table with shelf space beneath, tools, a log of wood on the bench, what looks like a saw, piles of more logs, an axe to chop them with, a stump to split them on. on the workbench are some of his finished projects: a carved nug, a carved dragon, and there are other wooden carvings he's made elsewhere in the room. on the floor nearby it's scattered with I guess wood shavings/bits of broken wood from chopping wood.

Some more carvings Davrin has made - he makes so many :) here we have nugs and an adorable bear design. sidequest to help Davrin open an Etsy store.

Another standout thing about Davrin's room is all the monster stuff. of course, he's a monster hunter. Over the fireplace is the skull of a large creature. fixed to or hung from the ceiling are the bones that make up a large creature's spine (they remind me of dinosaur bones in museums). left of his armchair near a curtain is another big skull on the wall. there's a collection of horns hung from the ceiling and more smaller skulls on the wall behind that. other items along the monster-hunter theme are bits of bone(?) or horn(?) or something on his desk, annotated anatomical illustrations of different types of creatures (which ties into how he sees it as a specific skillset to hone, how he learns monsters' weaknesses to be able to exploit them etc), and the various glass containers - some of these look to contain monster parts (specimens or trophies?). Witcher vibes!

Nug diagram and a horn-like or tentacle-y specimen in the green jar.

Assan has been scratching the back of Davrin's chair like a cat hhh. can we gift them a griffon-sized scratching post pls? and next to Davrin's comfy chair by the fire is a rug or sheepskin kinda thing of some sort on the ground - for Assan to lie on when Davrin sits in the chair? ^^ how lovely. it looks like there's also a stick, bone or chew for him on the ground near that. maybe that's Davrin's outside coat draped over the top of the chair. and btew is the nug to the right of the fireplace a carved wood nug statue or a stuffed dead nug hh?

Halla statue? ^^

Right: Another halla statue? Center: Another? Left: Animal diagram with drawings of could be a halla (top) and a set of halla horns (the biggest horns in the center).

There's a halla statue in Bellara's room and one in Taash's room too, but if these things in Davrin's are all hallas, that's a lot of halla things in one. Coincidence, monster-hunting related (as they're animals), Dalish-related, or Ghil-related? it's been wondered if Davrin's vallaslin correspond to Ghilan'nain (which would add a layer to the story of 1. an elf encounters not just one of their gods but the one whose vallaslin theirs corresponds to, 2. a monster-hunter, as she's mother of monsters, and 3. a Grey Warden monster-hunter who just may have been killing the mutated darkspawn and mutated monsters emerging from Ghil's monster-pools lately).

I wonder if the silver chalices around the room are meant to evoke the Joining cup?

What are these green things at the window?

Davrin's room has some empty shelves. I noticed some empty shelves in Emmrich's room too. I'm assuming this is where companions will display the personalized gifts we can get to give them, like was mentioned in the second dev Q&A:

Corinne Busche: "Out in the world, and there in various locations, so you kinda stumble upon them, you can buy a gift that is very personal to any one of the companions, and then you go, you turn that into them, you give it to them, they have a nice acknowledgement. And then, the thing that’s just like so sweet about it, we’ve talked about how the companion rooms evolve over time, but if you go and get them one of these, like, very personalized gifts, they’ll display it in their room. Like it doesn’t go into some stats void. It’s actually on display."

(if so, I'm assuming there's such a place in each room not just their two ones; just, those places may be out of frame due to angle in the other images).

Outside of the room you can see more ruined ancient elven Fadey architecture.

Process of elimination leaves this as Lucanis' room. Lucanis?? 😭😭 in what looks like the kitchen storage room?? if you need a snack in the middle of the night do you either wake Lucanis up when you sneak in (he'd hear you with his senses) or encounter him still up because he can't sleep well that night in the corner with his demonic aura?

it's dark - check, dude who "hides in the dark". he doesn't appear to have many belongings or personal effects - check, dude who is practical and pragmatic. he's a lot less ostentatious than Illario.

there's food everywhere, including fresh produce and a returning Dragon Age classic, giant cheese wheels. :') likely there is more food in the sacks, baskets, crates/boxes and pots. sleeping here reminds me of what was said about Lucanis being one of the team cooks in the second dev Q&A:

John Epler: "Bellara and Lucanis actually end up being, essentially, the team cooks. Bellara, you know, spending a lot of time out in nature, learning a lot about, you know, different types of cooking, is really big on experimentation, she likes to, you know, try different things. Lucanis comes from the Crows, Lucanis is very big on the finer things, so between the two of them, there’s a point in the story where they basically decide, if we don’t do this, the entire team is going to starve, so let’s just call ourselves the cook, cooks, and make sure that nobody dies of food poisoning, so."

I wonder if the chests contain food, other supplies or Lucanis' belongings.

Another one of these things. There's one in Neve's room and Bellara's too. maybe there's one in each companion room and the other screenshots were just taken from an angle where they can't be seen? again I'm so curious what these are for (or maybe they're just decor).

[Link to Part 1]

[daitranscripts]

Solas Conversation: Investigate

Tell Me About Your Journeys

Solas Masterpost

Positive approval, Skyhold only

PC: I’d like to hear more about what you saw in your exploration of the Fade.

Solas: I would be happy to share it with you.

1 - Dialogue options:

General: Tell me about spirits. [2] +Solas slightly approves

General: Tell me about old ruins. [3] +Solas slightly approves

General: Tell me about old memories. [4] +Solas slightly approves

General: Goodbye.

2 - General: Tell me about spirits. PC: Tell me about a spirit you encountered.

Solas: I met a friendly spirit who observed the dreams of village girls as love first blossomed in their adolescence. With subtlety, she steered them all to village boys with gentle hearts who would return their love with gentle kindness. The Matchmaker, so I called her. That small village never knew its luck. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Solas: The Alamarri crossed the Frostback Mountains to escape a beast they called the shadow goddess in their stories. I met the spirit that they fled. She walks the Fade along the southern tundra, weeping, lonely, and forgotten. Great Ferelden formed because a lonely spirit drove her prey away. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Solas: I found an ancient spirit who had once been undisputed king of almost every land I had discovered. Like pride or rage, it was the Fade’s reflection of a feeling. When I asked which one it was, the spirit faltered. “They’ve forgotten,” said the spirit. “There remains no word for what I was.” [back to 1]

3 - General: Tell me about old ruins. PC: Tell me about the old ruins you explored.

Solas: I found the ruin of Barindur, a lost Tevinter city buried deep beneath a dead and barren wasteland. Volcanic ash had sealed it tight. In one dark moment, every living creature in the city seared and smothered. They were statues in the ashes, like a mold made to recall the lost. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Solas: I found an ancient dwarven thaig no longer sheltered by the stone. An earthquake had exposed it all to daylight. A thousand dwarven corpses lay, the victims of a darkspawn horde, their last stand marked by one great ring of armor. In the middle, one small body, clutching tightly to a small stuffed toy. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Solas: I found in the Korcari Wilds a humble cottage far removed from any of the simple Chasind tribesmen. The trees and weeds had not reclaimed the home nor did the Chasind dare to come and steal the trinkets still remaining. It was empty, long abandoned, but the world feared that she might return. [back to 1]

4 - General: Tell me about old memories. PC: Tell me about the old memories you found in the Fade.

Solas: I saw a savage human horde go marching toward the battlefront. They sang a soldier’s hymn to keep formation. The primal music shook the ground. These savage unwashed warriors carried harmonies no Chantry choir has mastered. Though their cause was all but hopeless, they sang songs that made the spirits weep. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Solas: I saw a dwarf emerge into the light of day and shield his eyes against the sun, the first time he had seen it. The tears were streaming from his eyes. I thought them from the blazing light until I saw the rock he held so tightly. Then he laid the rock down gently, and he left it as he walked away. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Solas: I saw a young Qunari working in a simple kitchen, baking bread as she was ordered every morning. In every loaf she broke the rules. She’d take a pinch of sugar and would fold it to the center, like a secret. And this act of small rebellion brought a shining smile across her face. [back to 1]

General: Goodbye. PC: We’ll talk later. Solas: Goodbye.

After exhausting all of Solas’s stories Solas: I think I have shared everything of note. I should spend some time encountering more stories.

[tethrras]

12. candles, for amos/alistair (or a pairing of your choosing, if you'd prefer!) 💚

micro prompts

-

"Amos."

No response.

"Aaaaaaayyy-moessssss."

Still no response.

"Moody!"

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"Ha!" Alistair tightened his arms around Amos's waist and pressed his mouth into the other man's shoulder so the next words were muffled against his skin. "Knew you weren't asleep."

"It's hard to sleep when you make so much noise."

"You're mean, you know that?"

Amos grumbled something unintelligible and pressed himself back into the warmth of Alistair's chest.

The Frostbacks were near inhospitable. Since the group had started their long trek to the village of Haven, the snow and cold wind had been relentless. Neither them nor their travelling companions spent time outside their tents after camp was made for the night, and spending hour after hour in such cramped quarters with another person was starting to drive Amos mad. He liked Alistair. That wasn't the question. The question was how he was supposed to get enough sleep when Alistair liked talking so much.

But he was warm and smelled good, and he did like talking to Amos despite Amos's aforementioned moodiness and standoffish demeanour, so he supposed there were worse people to be stuck in a tent with.

"Did you need something?" Amos asked finally. For all his faults, Alistair wouldn't wake Amos up from what he thought was a deep sleep unless it was important.

"Yes." Alistair pushed himself up on his bedroll, the sheets rustling as he did. "I need... uh... I forgot where the door to our tent is."

Amos turned to face him. "What?"

"It's so dark out. And... dark in."

"Alistair."

"Open your eyes!"

Amos did. He was surprised to find that there was little difference - in fact, if he was unable to feel his eyes opening and closing, he would've thought nothing was changing at all.

"I need you to light a candle for me," Alistair said, "so I can get up to pee."

Amos pushed himself up from the ground and rubbed his eyes. "Can you find a candle?"

"Of course!"

Sure enough, Alistair started feeling around the floor of the tent. He grazed Amos's foot at least three times.

"Do you need to pee, too?" Alistair asked while he searched. "We could go together."

"No, I don't."

"Okay, but... you could still come with me."

Amos smiled and was glad Alistair couldn't see it. "Don't tell me you're scared."

"I'm not scared. I can't sense any Darkspawn nearby - though would we even be able to sense them if they were frozen solid? Do you think the cold can kill Darkspawn? Aha, there's the candle!"

There was a moment of silence before Amos felt Alistair pushing it against Amos's knuckles. Amos took it with his other hand and lit the end of the candle with a small, flickering flame.

"Thanks." As the fire started to grow, so did the range of its light, and after a moment, Alistair's face emerged from the darkness. He looked so handsome and hopeful as he asked, "Are you sure you don't want to come pee with me?"

Was he sure? Amos didn't know. It was safer in numbers - plus, the tent would feel a lot colder without Alistair in it...

"Fine," he said. "I'll come."

"Hooray!" Alistair grinned and then stopped grinning just as fast. "Oh, do you know what the best part of having this candle is? Now, I can do this."

He leaned through the open space towards Amos and pressed his lips to the other man's. Long and slow and deep - that was how Alistair liked to kiss. Like a vow. Like he loved Amos more than Amos thought possible. When Amos pulled away, he blew the candle out before Alistair could open his eyes and see the flush on his face.

"Hey! What happened?"

"The flame went out," Amos lied. "I'll relight the candle in a second."

"Okay." It sounded like Alistair was frowning. "But don't wait too long, okay? I really do have to pee."

[littlelostmabari]

Happy October!

I'm not committing to #Veilguard30 (TY @pavus !!) but I wanted to start the month off right, so here's a drabble.

1. Joining

650 words

Rating: M (CW: blood. canonical character death. body horror.)

Detailed description of the Joining Ritual. If you don't know what that means, maybe skip this one :)

Years later, she doesn't remember much about the moment the cold metal reached her lips and she drank. One thing, though, would never leave her.

The taste was vile.

She expected it to be disgusting, the darkspawn blood drawn not two hours before from those she slayed with the others outside of the main camp. She'd been told to be quick — the blood clotted easily and her only chance would decay in moments. One of the others had been too slow, and they'd needed another hour of searching to ambush another roaming band.

She expected it to be thick. The sludge that she had revealed to her recruiter was dark and already a solid block inside of the glass vial. He had done something to it, added herbs or something that tasted a little like cough syrup, and now it flowed freely past her lips and across her tongue.

She expected it to smell of decay, but instead it smelt of iron. Of normal blood. Normal blood that had been mixed with that something like cough syrup so when it fell down her throat it coated everything, and landed in her stomach like a cold fist to her insides.

To be honest… she expected it to kill her. It would make sense, given that the last man to drink from the chalice was currently being pulled away by the younger recruiter. The elder had said his final rites before he even took a sip, and before she could blink he was writhing on the ground. Pink foam spilt from his mouth and his limbs seized. When he finally stopped moving, and his eyes focused on nothing in the far distance, and his lips and cheeks and forehead were curled into a permanent sign of fear, the elder had apologized to him and then ushered her forward.

There was no time for his death, because they had expected it.

So she had taken the chalice to her lips, and the elder said her last rites. The liquid, disgusting and thick, rolled over her lips and past her tongue and coated the inside of her cheeks and her teeth and fell down her throat to punch her in the stomach.

Then she knew what it felt like to die. Her limbs seized, her vision swam with images of blood and viscera and gore and the scream of a being so ancient it was hard to comprehend. The words struck her somewhere in her chest, or maybe struck out from somewhere deep in her heart, screaming at her to fall in line, to obey, to rid the world of the untainted and prepare the way for Urthemiel the Glorious.

The thickness of the taint was there after all, flowing through her veins and dragging her into the deepest recesses of the oncoming horde. It would be so easy to give in, to become, to descend, to devour.

Then, a face. Familiar. Gone. Dead. Why that face? Why was she here?

Blight. Taint. Horde.

She clawed back one breath, then two, and suddenly her lungs filled with the cold air of the forward camp. It was smoke and sweat and steel and life.

The coating in her mouth remained. The thickness lingered in her veins.

The younger soldier helped her sit up against the fading stone of the nearest wall, where blood had been spilt at a refusal just moments before. He offered her a canteen, and when she couldn't hold the rag he offered, he gently wiped at the edges of her eyes and the cracks on her lips.

"You're alive," he murmured. A glance to the left, at an arm that splayed out underneath crimson stained fabric. "I'm… I'm glad it wasn't you." He stood slowly, and helped her to her feet, a strong arm under her elbow as she quickly found her footing.

"You'll be alright in an hour or so," a lopsided grin emerging across his face. "Welcome to the Wardens."

[highwayphantoms]

happy friday!! for tabris & hawke, “You can go to sleep now. I will keep watch.”

thank you! :D I've spent a lot of time thinking about these two but so rarely writing any of it out, and this prompt works perfectly!

for @dadrunkwriting

Words: 821 Rating: T Warnings: Don't think too hard about what the Taint does to a person ;)

--

Hawke is late. Between the noise in her head and the ache in her bones, it is the one coherent thought she can cling to.

By all rights, she should be dead. Fully, truly dead, instead of being only mostly dead. She dimly remembers something Hawke had told her, months ago. A Warden, like her, still shambling along long after he should have been dead. A ghoul, now. Not a Warden.

Hawke is late. Two weeks, she’d said. Fourteen days, fourteen nights. Tabris has counted seventeen days, and the light that pours in through the cave’s mouth is still too bright for the sun to have set and begun the seventeenth night. Two weeks. If she was delayed, she’d send Anders.

There have been Grey Wardens nearby. Maybe darkspawn. It used to be hard to tell the difference; now it is impossible. But Anders does not travel with darkspawn, and he does not travel with Wardens. It is not Anders she has sensed in the area around her hiding spot, and so she has not dared to venture out. Not while Wardens-darkspawn are nearby.

Late. Late late late late late.

For a time she wonders if Hawke misjudged the Inquisition. Perhaps the Wardens have realized that the former Warden-Commander of Ferelden has not been working alone. Cannot work alone.

In seventeen days, the most she has accomplished has been stealing food from the village nearby. It’s easy, almost laughably so; the villagers are haunted by undead that emerge from the lake at night. Most of them cower inside their homes, leaving their sheds and farms undefended and unwatched. A loaf of bread here, vegetables there, perhaps a chicken or two when she’s well enough to take something that can run away from her.

She spends most of her time tucked away in the recesses of the cave that has become a home. Staring at the rock walls, listening to the bats and nugs that keep her company, picking at the sores in her skin. She does not sleep, not really.

If not for the rising and setting of the sun, she would be unable to keep track of time at all. As it is, she knows she loses minutes and hours. It is morning one moment, late afternoon the next. Whether that is sleep or the taint stealing away what’s left of her mind, she does not know.

Tabris knows she has company long before she can hear the voices over the music that echoes inside her skull. A Warden-darkspawn, but just one. Then: two voices. Familiar voices, bickering as only they can. She slowly uncurls herself and gets to her feet as a solid thud echoes from the mouth of the cave, followed promptly by an irritated curse from Hawke. Then: “Have you been sitting here in the dark this whole time?”

Her joints are stiff as boards and cause her to lurch as she moves out into the cavern between her hiding place and the entrance. Tabris hums faintly as she considers Hawke’s question, which takes her long enough that by the time she says, “Yes,” Hawke and Anders are standing on the other side of the cavern, a small flame hovering above Anders’ hand illuminating the space.

Hawke looks irritated. Anders looks concerned. Their dog lurks just behind them. This is not unusual. Hawke never knew Tabris as she was before the Taint took half her mind and warped her body. Anders… did. And the dog… the dog avoids her.

“You’re late,” Tabris says.

“Someone,” Anders replies, with a pointed glance at Hawke, “decided to take a qunari up on a bet and lost. Badly.”

Hawke grins. “Worth it.”

“I’m not patching you up next time.”

“Yes, you will.”

Anders shakes his head and turns his attention back to Tabris. “The Inquisitor stopped to seal the rift over the lake. She said she’ll try to meet us here tomorrow.”

She nods, though she remains apprehensive. Why Anders can’t play the part of Hawke’s Warden contact, she still does not understand. At this point, he knows as much as any of them do; the Orlesian Wardens are up to something, something Nate had refused to take part in, and as a result the Orlesian Warden-Commander has issued orders to bring to heel every Fereldan Warden. What they intend to do after that… a mystery.

But Tabris doesn’t really care about their intentions. They’re standing in the way.

She was not going to let the Taint take her.

“You look dead on your feet,” Hawke remarks. “Well, more dead than usual.”

“Hawke.”

“She’s right,” Tabris says, vaguely amused.

“Take your paranoid ass and go sleep,” Hawke says firmly. “We’ll keep watch.”

“If you insist.” She doubts she’ll get much rest. She hardly ever does, with or without companions. But Hawke is right, and even a half-dead Warden needs sleep sooner or later. She’ll try. It’s the best she can do.

[laurelsofhighever]

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Characters/pairings: Alistair x Cousland Chapter: 11/? Rating: M Warnings: Canon-typical violence Fic Summary: The story of the Fifth Blight, in a world where Alistair was raised to royalty instead of joining the Grey Wardens.

Read on AO3!

--

Two more days of uneventful travelling brought the little group to the outskirts of civilisation, chilled and soggy under the pall of wet snow that had closed over them the night before. They had sheltered, shivering, in an abandoned barn, one of many along the old, paved road they were following, which had been in poor repair even before rumours of war had channelled carts and animals and the refugees who drove them out of the southern hinterlands. Now, it was a struggle to trudge through the lines of muddy, iced-over puddles where the flagstones left gaps, breath coming in harsh clouds of white fog and cold-numbed fingers tucked as much as possible under the folds of the oilskin cloaks Flemeth had been able to spare them.

“Lothering,” Alistair huffed when they finally paused for breath on a bluff overlooking the village. Thin banners of smoke rose from the hunched cluster of buildings in the settlement proper, and from the damp campfires dotted between the mass of grubby tents that spilled out over the southern boundary like flotsam from a shipwreck.

“Pretty as a painting.” He shot a sidelong grin to Rosslyn on his left. “I almost didn’t think we’d make it.”

“It’s a real sight, isn’t it?”

The new, reedy voice came from just off the road, from a small campsite set far enough back into the bushes that any travellers heading north would miss it on the way past. The thin, gaunt man it belonged to stepped out onto the path in front of them. Four others emerged after him, in front and behind to block their path, all in similar states of beggary with weapons drawn. Rosslyn’s own hand reached for her sword at the same moment Alistair stepped closer to guard her flank. The shiver of air along her spine told her that Morrigan, too, readied for an attack. She hoped it would not come. Though her shoulder had knitted together far faster than should be expected even with the aid of magical healing, the dull twinges that flared with every movement warned of the permanent damage that could be done if she got into a fight before the muscles fully recovered.  

“Let us pass,” she commanded from beneath her hood. At her side, Cuno growled his own threat, the sound a low vibration against her leg.

“Ah, the pretty one is in charge, I see,” the stranger cried, as if delighted. He looked malnourished, his hollow cheeks exaggerated by the cracked, ill-fitting leather armour strapped about his shoulders, the sour odour of his unwashed body an offence even from ten paces’ distance. Everything from his stance to the flashy, overly stiff grip of his sword screamed his lack of skill, even without the coating of rust on his neglected blade that would have gotten any squire in Castle Cousland flogged.

One of the other bandits shifted on his feet when she didn’t respond. “Uh… these ones don’t look much like them others,” he ventured. “Maybe we should just let them pass?”

“Nonsense,” the leader snapped, and turned a greasy smile on Rosslyn. “We have rules, you know. There’s a toll. A simple ten silvers and you’re free to move on.”

“You’re not very well dressed for tollkeepers,” Alistair noted. “Better hope Bann Dunstan’s militia doesn’t catch you preying on those fleeing the darkspawn.”

The man laughed. “Bann Dunstan went north with Teyrn Loghain, and took all his soldiers with him. There’s only a few templars left at the chantry now – so we’re taking the initiative.”

“You are fools to get in our way,” Morrigan told him with a sneer.

“Loghain came through here?” Rosslyn pressed, before the bandits could test the claim.

The leader shrugged. “Day before yesterday, leading his whole army and saying the Grey Wardens betrayed the king and got him and themselves killed.”

“That’s not –”

“No other survivors?” she interrupted.

“A few,” he answered. “Band of Ash Warriors came through yesterday – stayed right out of their way, I can tell you. But you aren’t Ash Warriors.”

“No?” she asked lightly. “We came from the south, we’re armoured and armed better than you, and I can tell you exactly how far the darkspawn are behind us. Are you really going to risk yourselves on a losing battle here when you could be running?”

“Uh… you don’t seem to realise –”

She feinted forward. He flinched, and she tilted a cold smile at him.

“Alright!” he huffed, throwing up his hands. “We’re just trying to get by, before the darkspawn get us all.”

“Then go,” she suggested. “And hope they don’t catch up.”

He risked a glance sideways at the campsite, one hand rising in a hopeless gesture that faltered with the deliberate step she took towards him, his eyes glued to the inch of white steel drawn from her scabbard.

“Those things don’t belong to you,” she reminded him.

“Yes, right.” He swallowed. “Of course. Come on, gents – it’s slim pickings here anyway.”

She kept her gaze on him as he stumbled backwards, tense in case of a double-cross, though she had spent enough time among her father’s hounds to know a beaten dog when she saw one. The patter of the rain fell heavily in the mud as he retreated with the rest of his miserable band slinking at his heels, reluctant, but not one daring enough to attack alone.

They would not remain cowed for long.

As soon as the last man retreated into the cover of the trees, Rosslyn turned and leapt the ditch between the road and the bandits’ makeshift camp, hissing a curse as her boot slipped on the landing and wrenched her shoulder.

“Uh… what are you doing?” Alistair asked, coming closer.

“Outfitting,” she replied. “Before they come back.”

“If they do, I say teach them a lesson,” Morrigan scoffed. She had stayed on the road, vigilant as a wolf with the distant scent of deer on the wind.

“The best way to win a fight is to not fight in the first place.” Busy hunting through the meagre spoils the bandits had managed to scrounge together, the adage came to Rosslyn’s lips almost without thinking. It crowded with others in her head, the stories retold by the hearth on winter nights that spoke not of the glory of battle but of the hardships that went between, nights of cold and hunger where morale wavered like a candle flame by an open window. There had been days, her father said, where the Orlesians had forced them to choose between the tired army and starving civilians.

Behind her, Cuno whined. A small animal, perhaps a yearling lamb, lay poorly spitted over the fire, its flesh half-cooked and the tips of its shanks beginning to burn. Drops of fat hissed as they surrendered to the flames. In the few days of travel from Flemet’s hut, the dog’s share of their meagre rations had been smaller than she would have liked, stretched as far as possible with grains but limited by all the things he couldn’t eat.

“Such a good boy,” she crooned, leaving off her inspection of a tatty bedroll to cut away one of the haunches for him. The heat of the bone warmed her numb fingers through the thick leather of her gauntlets, gone again the instant she wiped the juices away on the inside of her cloak.

“Are we taking this stuff, then?” Alistair tried. “You know it was stolen.”

“We’re taking what we can carry, what we need,” she corrected, without looking at him. “I don’t like it either, but you heard what he said about Loghain just as well as I did – we need all the advantages we can get.”

Morrigan delicately flicked a cleaning rag away from the rim of an engraved silver bowl so she could inspect it. “If the former owners of these items were foolish enough to allow themselves to be robbed, ‘tis no concern of ours.”

“The people who passed through here were desperate,” he insisted. “They had nothing else.”

“Neither do we,” Rosslyn reminded him, and sighed. “We can pass word in the village once we get there – maybe someone will come for what’s left.”

A long moment passed as he wrestled with his conscience, as the snow thickened overhead and Cuno crunched down the bones of his impromptu meal, until necessity overcame nobility and with a snarl at nothing in particular he tramped over to the bandits’ tent to dismantle it. Even through the thick layers of armour and cloak, the tension in his shoulders screamed loud enough that Rosslyn had to grit her teeth and turn away. She swiped a bag of dried provisions and a coinpurse from the bottom of an unlocked chest, and an extra cloak and bedroll that she hoped weren’t infested with lice, before hunting around for something that might serve to wrap the rest of the meat.

Further into the trees, they found a pair of tacked-up horses tied to the branch of a bare oak. One was of much finer quality than the other, with the tall, strong-boned confirmation of a knight’s charger, but both had been neglected, left to stand with no sign of fodder in a slurry of mud up to the fetlock.

“Ah, I see we are to rescue every pathetic creature that wanders across our path,” Morrigan commented as Rosslyn ran her hands over the destrier’s legs to check for swelling.

She shot a glare over her uninjured shoulder. “Would you prefer to carry the tent?”

--

With their baggage now strapped to the horses, the last stretch of the journey took less than an hour. By the time they reached the outskirts of Lothering, the blizzard had eased and a glance of pale sunlight managed to slip past the bars of cloud. The squalor it illuminated rose bile in the back of Rosslyn’s throat as surely as the smell. Families huddled beneath scavenged yards of cloth trying to stay dry as the few campfires still burning billowed acrid curls of smoke, their meagre possessions kept within sight and easy reach.

“I wonder, Alistair,” Morrigan commented as they passed through the gauntlet of wan, wary stares, “why do none of them recognise you? You passed through Lothering on the journey south, did you not?”

“I was considerably better dressed then,” he pointed out, but pulled the hood of his cloak lower over his forehead nonetheless. “It’s probably for the best that we’re not recognised, if what that bandit said about Loghain is true. It does make you wonder what all these people are waiting for, though. They have to know the darkspawn aren’t that far away.”

Morrigan clicked her tongue. “‘Tis not our concern if they wish to sit like rams waiting for the wolf.”

They trudged further in silence, until the cobbles of the road once more emerged from beneath the quagmire of the squatters’ field. In the distance, the tower of the village chantry rose above the lines of shingle roofs, its pennants flashing with gold-embroidered sunbursts. If any organised retreat existed, the templars would have charge of it, though to judge from the blasphemous ravings of the merchant they passed arguing with a lay sister, their grasp on order was tenuous at best.

“Please, sers – have you seen my mother?”

Rosslyn stopped cold. A small boy, older than Oren but not by much, and with lighter hair, huddled under the eaves of an empty doorstep, clutching a scrawny, point-eared mongrel about the neck. His clothes were thin and ragged at the hems, smeared with the dirt that also smudged its way across his cheek.

“Your mother?” she repeated, fighting back the shake of double vision.

“She’s really tall, and she has red hair,” the boy said hopefully. “Some mean men with swords came and Mother told me to run to the village as fast as I could, so I did. She said she’d be right behind me, but I’ve been waiting and waiting and I can’t find her.”

“Do you know where your father is?”

The boy’s gaze turned briefly to Alistair before settling on the dirt. “He went with William to the neighbours’ yesterday, but he didn’t come back.”

“‘Tis likely your parents are dead,” Morrigan told him, without sympathy. “Waiting for them here is pointless.”

“That’s not true!” The boy wiped his nose on his sleeve. “She said she’d come.” But his lip trembled, and he drew his arms tighter around the dog.

“Here,” Rosslyn interrupted, reaching to her side before the tears could truly come. “Get yourself something to eat, then go to the chantry. It’ll likely be the first place your mother will look for you.”

With a hearty sniff, the boy peered dubiously at the offering before lighting up in glee, his worry forgotten. “A whole silver!” He made to grab for it, then remembered his manners. “Thank you – you’re a really nice lady, kind of like mother.”

“Go on,” she commanded with a rough jerk of her head, and watched him disappear through the crowd.

“Poor thing,” Alistair muttered. He rounded on Morrigan. “Did you have to do that?”

“I only spoke the truth,” she retorted.

“And what good did it do?” Rosslyn demanded.

“What good is a silver to someone who will likely soon be prey to the darkspawn?”

In terms of cold practicality, the point was well barbed; it fired clean and struck true, even if the silver for the boy’s meal had come from an already-stolen purse. Rosslyn’s hands curled into fists nonetheless, the image before her eyes smeared not with mud from the gutter, but with blood.

“You don’t know that,” she growled.

“Denial will not –”

“I won’t argue this.” She drew in a steadying breath and clucked at the horses to walk on. “We should get to the chantry.”

Morrigan scowled at her. Alistair, too, held a wary edge in his posture, as if daring himself to ask whether she was alright, but she ignored them both to push on through the crowd of people milling about without much seeming purpose at all. Most wore the simply stitched clothes of farmholders, bundled up against the cold in cloaks of thick wool. A few, wealthier, had rabbit or squirrel trim about the collar, but none could be considered truly rich in their dress, and like the refugees beyond the village boundary they all kept close watch of their belongings, heads bowed like workhorses at the plough as they hurried about their business. Clearly, any with the means to leave had already made their escape.

Further on, a crowd had gathered in the lee of the chantry wall, their number shifting uneasily as a wiry man in the leather tunic and cross-tied cloak of a Chasind trader gesticulated at them from atop an overturned crate. His hair was lank and matted, his hose stained with mud to the thigh, and wild exhaustion creased the sun-darkened skin around his eyes.

“The legions of evil are on your doorstep!” he cried. “They will feast upon our hearts!”

“At last, someone who seems to understand the situation,” Morrigan noted dryly.

“There! One of their minions is already amongst us!”

Several faces turned in the direction of his point, and murmured amongst themselves as their eyes landed on Rosslyn, trying to guide her horse to the quieter side of the road. Travel-worn she might be, and scowling like a thundercloud, but a disappointing comparison to the monsters that haunted the dark edges of their bedtime stories.

“Prettiest darkspawn I ever saw,” someone laughed. “If they’re all like that, maybe I should join up.”

“This woman bears their evil stench!” the man insisted, spit flying from his lips. “Can you not see the vile blackness that fills her? The darkspawn will cover the world like a plague of locusts, and she is but the beginning! There is nowhere to run – better to slit your children’s throats now than let them suffer at darkspawn hands!”

Rosslyn stopped. Her lip twisted in a moment of indecision before she dropped the leading rein and started into the crowd with Cuno at her heels. Above, a bank of cloud shifted again and covered the sun, so that as she advanced, with onlookers scrabbling out of her way and drawn in her wake to see what would happen next, the sky darkened and the little warmth left bled from the air.

“I am not your enemy,” she declared, when she finally stood before her accuser.

“You are but the first of those who will destroy us!”

“What’s going on here?”

The Wilder shrank from the bite of the new voice, from the two soldiers in Gwaren Black fighting through the ranks of people, shoving with the hafts of their polearms when someone was too slow to move.

“You again!” spat the taller one, who had a sergeant’s band around his upper arm. “We’ve warned you. Move along, and stop causing trouble.”

“You would punish me, but not this thing of evil?” the wilder demanded. “Look on her! See the corruption thick in her veins.”

The soldiers were already looking, eyes half-lidded in affected disdain as they measured her. She stood, half a head taller than either of them, and glared coolly back.

“You’re well-armed, traveller,” the sergeant said. “Come from the south, did you?”

“Most recently,” she allowed.

The man scratched his chin. “No sigil, and no company. No mercs that I saw at Ostagar, and an honest soldier would wear a liege lord’s colours. Corrupted, you say?” he added, turning to the Wilder. “That sounds like a Grey Warden to me. I think we’ve just been blessed.”

“In what manner?” Rosslyn asked. These were not desperate farmers driven to banditry; all reports said Loghain trained his soldiers hard, ever fearful of a new invasion from Orlais, and they would not tuck their tails like scolded mongrels if she merely bared her teeth. She stood relaxed, drawn up to her full height despite the pain it brought to her shoulder.

“There’s a bounty out for traitors,” he leered.

As his hand shifted for a firmer grip on his polearm, his gaze slid to a point to Rosslyn’s left and widened in disbelief. A red-haired woman in the dawn-coloured cloth of a lay sister slipped into the open space the crowd had drawn around the confrontation, her graceful fingers splayed palm to palm in the sign of the sunburst as she placed herself gently as a feather between the soldiers and their hoped-for prize.

“Surely there is no need for trouble, gentlemen,” she said, her voice low and melodic, lilting with the precise inflections of court Orlesian. “No doubt this is but another poor soul seeking refuge.”

The sergeant gestured with his weapon. “Stay out of our way, sister, or you’ll get the same, chanter’s robes or no. The Wardens killed the king, or haven’t you heard?”

The crowd tensed. Rosslyn didn’t move. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Alistair hanging in the first line of onlookers, his stance and sword ready to aid her should any real fighting erupt, though he kept his hood low over his face, hunched to disguise his height. She could worry about his silence later, but for now she was glad neither Morrigan nor the horses were with him.

“It is no excuse for ambushing –”

“Loghain is the one who betrayed the king!” she called out over the Chantry sister’s misgivings, a clarion note on the dull air as she circled to once again stand before her opponent. “When the moment came for his support in the battle, he turned and fled, and left King Cailan and the Wardens to be overwhelmed. Their sacrifice is the only reason the darkspawn are not already swarming at your door.”

“Lies!” the sergeant spat. “This isn’t even a true Blight!”

“When the moment came,” she repeated, in a voice like winter, “he chose cowardice over loyalty.”

The insult struck. With a bellow like a bull the sergeant charged, polearm lowered to skewer her. She was ready. Whistling two quick notes, she stepped into the attack and drew her sword to parry the blow, the movement a graceful arc into his guard that slammed down into a pommel strike against his neck that sent him to the floor. His companion yelled a protest, but before he could intervene, Cuno’s massive jaws clamped around his arm. Surprise broke off into screams as he was borne to the ground and shaken like a dust rag. There was crack of bone.

“Alright!” the sergeant cried, as the crowd swayed, sickened by the sound. “Alright! You’ve won – we surrender!”

Rosslyn, her sword laid like a whisper against his neck, whistled once. In an instant her dog let go and backed off, though his thunderous growls still reverberated through the space, and left no doubt about his intentions should anyone else dare to attack his mistress. A few lost snowflakes drifted down against the stones.  

“They have learned their lesson now, I think,” the Chantry sister said, calmly, as if the soldiers had lost a chess match and weren’t both lying in the dirt, the one cringing against a white steel blade and the other cradling his bloodied, broken arm. “We can all stop fighting now.”

“Can we?” Rosslyn asked of the sergeant.

Eyes wide, he nodded. “Maker bless you for your mercy, ser!”

“My mercy,” she repeated. “There’s precious little of it. I want you to be of use to me.”

“Anything – anything!”

“You’re going to take a message to Loghain,” she said.

“Uh, what –” He swallowed. “What do you want to tell him?”

She glanced up and met Alistair’s eyes, the lines of his mouth pinched in worry as he slowly shook his head to urge her to caution. For a moment, her jaw clenched around the desire to rebel, to issue a challenge like those her ancestors had laid down before their enemies, a bright, shining pennant to unfurl across a battlefield, a streak of midnight intent, but the urge bled from her as she once again felt the ugly itch of the whispers in the back of her mind. Loghain possessed an army, and in sacrificing the Wardens had excused it the obligation of stopping the Blight; for now, Alistair’s survival, and her own identity, were the only tactical advantages they had.

“Tell him there are those who know what he did,” she growled. “And that we will see justice done for it.”

She took her blade away, and kicked him for good measure as he scrambled to his feet His lackey stumbled after, cowering away as she flexed out the rush of the battle-blood that made her fingers shake. She would pay for that burst of action later. All eyes were fixed on her, or on Cuno nosing up under her hand for a scratch behind the ear. Even the Chantry sister, who seemed far less bothered by the violence than should be expected, watched with curiosity to see what would happen next.

Her father would have known what to say; he would have chided her for shrinking back from her duty.

“I am a Grey Warden,” she told the gathered crowd. “Listen to me – the darkspawn are coming. King Cailan bought you time, but it is falling away and they cannot be stopped. They do not reason. If you do not leave, you will die.”

“Coward’s talk!” someone shouted.

“We’ll show ‘em if they dare creep out of the Wilds!”

“Maybe the Wardens killed the king and you’re trying to cover it up!”

The Chantry sister raised her hands. “Good people, please –”

“If it is so safe here, then why did the bann flee north?”

The voice did not come from one of the villagers, but from Morrigan. Her disdain rang so clear that it might have been amplified by magic, and it blunted the anger of the crowd into a low, uncertain buzz that faded entirely into silence as the lay sister once more stepped forward to address them.

“Please, do not despair,” she said. “The Maker sent this Grey Warden as a warning, to help us in our hour of need.”

“Do you think we should tell her who actually sent us?” Alistair muttered in Rosslyn’s ear as he sidled up to her.

“It would be interesting to see how things could get worse,” she muttered back.

“You handled those soldiers pretty well – I’d almost forgotten how scary you were in the lists.”

Disbelieving, she glanced at him and found nothing but sincerity in his shrouded features, a soft trust that stung not least because part of her wanted to throw back his hood and show him to the people in all disregard for sense. Such a move would certainly make them listen, but if Loghain had truly put out a bounty for captured Grey Wardens, how much more would he be willing to pay for Cailan’s only heir? Perhaps, at least until they met with Arl Eamon, it would be safer to pretend he was another Grey Warden instead, to shield him with her own status as much as it was her duty as a Cousland to shield him with her body.

As she mulled this over, the crowd succumbed to the lack of fresh entertainment and let itself be chivvied back about its business, clearing the path to Morrigan and the main doors of the chantry that had been their first destination. The lay sister remained, a demure smile upon her face as she waited for them to notice her.

“Thank you for intervening, Sister,” Alistair said. “We’re glad the crowd decided to listen to you.”

“I couldn’t just sit by and not help,” came the reply. “Though from your display of skill I see my aid was not required.”

“A welcome attempt nonetheless,” Rosslyn told her.

The woman smiled and dipped into a curtsey. “Then I am glad. Perhaps, if you wish it, I can offer further assistance by escorting you to the chantry?”

[mysterious-cuchulainn-x]

We Will Hold the... Charge?

I've spent a fairly, perhaps unreasonably, long time being deeply perplexed by the Battle of Ostagar. The human forces are both on the defensive and defensively positioned, while the darkspawn are obviously on the attack, yet dialogue consistently treats preparation for the battle as preparation for an attack on the darkspawn—even though it is the human forces who are camped in a clear location, and the darkspawn who can emerge from the wilds to battle at will.

Stating the obvious, maybe, but I'm also excited to have finally figured myself back around where things make sense:

The Battle of Ostagar is not the first battle of the Blight.

Duncan and Cailan both refer to previous "skirmishes" against the darkspawn. It appears at first that these may be fights against scouting bands in the Wilds, but Cailan specifically mentions participating in several victories—the teams in the Wilds have had a much harder time. Rather, the darkspawn must have emerged from the Wilds previously, lacking the numbers they have built up by the final engagement, and failed to break through the human defenses.

(This adds additional flavor to the fearful soldier in the cutscene—it's not the sight of darkspawn at a great distance that's so intimidating, but how damned many there were.)

2. Duncan's return changes Cailan's calculations.

The king is in high spirits when Duncan returns with The Warden, eagerly anticipating a heroic charge against the darkspawn. Part of this is immature hero worship and glory-seeking, but there are also widespread indications of fatigue, mounting casualties, and growing morale problems; "holding the line" with no end in sight isn't going to work for much longer.

So: the royal army may have been positioned defensively during his absence, but with Warden-Commander Duncan at the king's side, it is time to seize the day (and his army's flagging morale) and cast down the darkspawn once and for all!

(Loghain, as Rendon Howe's patron, etc., etc., has his own reasons to abide by this reversal; Cailan explicitly refers to the battle plan as Loghain's strategy.)

3. Duncan urges patience and asks after the archdemon.

Duncan questions Loghain's plan twice: urging Cailan to wait for Arl Eamon—not knowing he has, most likely, already been poisoned—or for more Grey Wardens, and then asking what contingencies exist if the archdemon appears. Both approaches aim, unsuccessfully, to alter the strategy's implementation to make it effective: delaying a decisive engagement is bad strategy against the horde, but the only way to ensure the army's survival until the archdemon actually appears.

But neither Cailan nor Loghain knows (nor would Loghain likely believe Duncan) about the archdemon, so from the non-Warden/generally ignorant viewpoint the best option—with morale declining and the horde growing every day—is to counterattack and force a decisive battle. They can choose this battle because the darkspawn attack the human defensive positions semi-regularly; it is merely a question of picking the attack to counter.

TLDR: No, CuChu, the army did take advantage of their positioning. They just stopped doing that, for reasons unique to each decision-maker, right on time for it to be the worst possible decision.

Of course, Cailan's charge is still a foolhardy and unnecessary risk, but it's something he could coherently insist on in contrast to the previous battle plan, and which Loghain has every reason to agree to.

[transandersrights]

I have an adorable prompt for you today! Anders and Ser Pounce-a-Lot and the quote “Thanks. For a while I felt human again.”

Can be real short or however long you like. Feels like something cozy/fluffy

(I take prompts! See info here)

I don't think I've ever written Pounce before so this was a fun new thing!! It's not SUPER fluffy but they're both gonna be totally fine I promise. So here: ~600 words of Anders & Pounce for @dadrunkwriting :)

Anders didn’t know how long he’d been walking. You’d think, with his particular history, that he’d have some kind of skill in judging the passage of time without the sun to match it. Turns out he wasn’t.

Really, he was surprised he was still alive. Normally when you fell off a bit of the Deep Roads, that was it. The end. No chance of emerging again, because you were probably off any of your maps and definitely getting closer to where Darkspawn would be there, ready to pounce.

Maybe his squad had already given up. It would be reasonable, if they hadn’t managed to work out where exactly he fell to or how to get down safely. He’d moved on, they would have had to move on, and now they were separate.

He was running out of water; soon, he’d start running out of food, and then he’d be done for. Still…

Pounce, trotting steadily ahead of him, meowed and came to a stop. Not from danger — Anders couldn’t sense a damn thing, and he’d definitely be able to if Darkspawn were approaching. He just… didn’t want to walk anymore?

“You wanna stop, buddy?”

Pounce meowed again.

“Alright. We can stop for a bit.” Five minutes wouldn’t make a difference to whether he made it out before he ran out of water. Ditching Pounce when he got it into his head he needed to stop would, obviously, but that was a cruelty he wouldn’t entertain.

“What’s up?”

Pounce meowed again, determinedly rubbing his body against Anders’ legs.

“Oh, alright.” Anders shifted his pack around and let himself drop to the floor, his tired legs thanking him and protesting at the change in position immediately. Just as instantly, Pounce lived up to his name and made Anders’ lap his prey, curling into a near-perfect circle the moment he settled down. “You’re so demanding.”

A quieter meow this time. Pounce was probably tired at this point — maybe he’d stopped to sleep.

“I can put you in my pack, you know,” Anders said. There was plenty of space for that now, with his rations dwindling. He liked to think he was getting closer to the surface — the road had certainly been moving what felt like upwards — but who knew? Pounce almost certainly didn’t.

This time, a meow of protest, followed by Pounce nestling even deeper.

“You want attention, do you?” His response, of course, was less a noise and more a vibration as Pounce communicated his approval. “You know, I think you’re smarter and better at understanding people than any smelly mabari. You’re a good boy, Pounce.”

As he spoke, he moved to card his fingers through Pounce’s fur. He was a little grimy, having long since accepted the impossibility of safely grooming himself when coated with the persistent grease and Maker-knows-what of the Deep Roads. Even with the slightly wrong feeling, it was good. He felt a bit better.

Pounce really was the only thing that made this all bearable, sometimes. Anders hated the Deep Roads, but Pounce didn’t seem to care. He thrived everywhere — a particularly admirable trait Anders wished he could live up to even a little.

Pounce’s next insistent meow interrupted his thoughts, and Anders laughed. “Yes, alright.” This time, he moved to scritch Pounce behind the ears. He let out a little mrrp sound, leaning in. “Thanks. For a while there, I felt human again.”

The tunnels of the Deep Roads stretched out ahead and behind, the darkness ever-encroaching. But here, in their private little corner, there was a small (and distinctly fluffy) light.

[deadlymaelstrom]

Message from the Front: The Tide Turns

Rook,

Word has reached me of your battle in Hossberg. Taking down an Archdemon at Weisshaupt was no small feat. And now, coupled with your victory over both Ghilan'nain's blighted dragons? Fewer than two dozen people in all of Thedas could boast such an accomplishment. News of your victory―of the Wardens' victory―has had no small impact on morale. Darkspawn swarm in numbers never seen in living memory, but there is a sense of hope, of optimism, among those who added their banners to our cause.

Not all have chosen to ally openly and directly with us. The Venatori and the Orlesian royal armies clash daily in Orlais. Val Royeaux is now under the control of the rebels, and from there the Venatori launch attacks as far east as Kirkwall. Yet Orlais still refuses to join with us. We've sent several companies to assist, but while the Orlesian troops don't attack them, they refuse to coordinate attacks. Paranoia, perhaps, from the past wars between Ferelden and Orlais. Still, the situation is dire, and I only hope they recognize it before it's too late.

Whatever ill luck may come our way from Orlais, fortune smiles upon us in the east. Whatever you're doing up north, it's drawn some of the Antaam off from their assault on our trade routes. Reports have also begun to emerge of attacks on the Antaam. The work of the Felicima Armada, apparently―I owe Isabela my gratitude. The relief from the Antaam's piracy is welcome.

Nevertheless, I can't help feeling like this is the calm before the storm on all fronts, and the worst is yet to come.

Yours, The Inquisitor

[jimothy-g-brooks]

Terata the Invaders, the Barons Of Darkness

((Greek for "Monster", τέρατα térata)) (Sg. Teras)

Whenever a horror fails to take place, when some supernatural tragic hypothetical teeters on the edge of being real and instead topples into the abyss of never happening, the Darkness rumbles with disappointment. In the Dark World, the ground may shake and a fissure opens up so that the vast Ultimate Darkness sighs in regret before closing back up again. This is especially likely to happen when a mortal perishes without hope and fails to rise again as a Cataphractoi, or when a Noble who has lost all Belief simply perishes in her sleep rather than Dethroning in an act of eternal sorrow. In a place of close correspondence to where the incident didn’t happen, a hole in the ground briefly opens and, sometimes, something falls inside.

Darkspawn that find themselves in the Dark World become frozen by a setting inhospitable even to its supposed natives, things of pure malice unable to survive in a place of ultimate evil. Only when a Tainted Place forms over in a corresponding area of the real world may they begin to stir to life, for when Darkness creeps into reality, Light shines down into the Pit and awful things begin to hunger. Otherwise, few things can move freely through the wasteland save the Dethroned and the Queen Of Storms, so when a hole in the ground opens up, most creatures are helpless but to be sucked in. Normally, the fate of these things is utter annihilation as they are recycled back into Darkness but, on occasion, something crawls out.

Rarely, more rarely, something will spontaneously crawl out of the depths of the Dark World, or descend from its starless night like a fallen angel from an inverted heaven or march from some shadowy hinterlands hitherto unknown. Terata of this sort are even more alien than the creatures that were, presumably, once human or mortal beasts, and have come here from somewhere beyond earthly horror. It’s not impossible that something called them here but it was not in response to any tragedy-that-wasn’t, rather these are unpredicted invaders upon a world of sanity, warlords of Darkness against all that is Light.

And still there are more way a Teras may form: A Darkspawn may live and experience an unusually long life and by sheer dint of accumulated age grow into something more awful. A Darkened with an unusual accumulation of Umbrae and perhaps other mutating powers finally loses the last of their Integrity and spontaneously becomes something more than a mere Darkspawn. A horde of Darkspawn fall upon one another in fratricidal violence and the melting goo of the dead accumulates upon the sole survivor. Any number of explanations and, again, the Withering increases the chances of it taking.

Traits

Terata possess Inner Night as the Dethroned do and may purchase them at the same rate as Nobles do Inner Light, thereby affecting how the Invaders collect Shadows or resist supernatural effects. This is also the same as those who have undergone the Withering and this is not entirely a coincidence. The rare Darkspawn that has Withered and later was swallowed up by the Dark World has a greater chance of emerging again as a Terata. They lose access to the merit, being that is innate to the template, but those who were Withered to begin with tend to be more thoughtful examples of their breed.

In addition to Caligines and Umbrae, Terata may gain the Hexes and Chains of the Dethroned, plus Dread Powers as well. To utilize the Dethroned powers they have acquired, Terata may use Shadows in place of Clouds. Many of the powers of the Dethroned are recontextualized and renamed as appropriate, especially in the sense that the Invaders are not remorseful fallen angels but beasts of glorious damnation. A Teras awakens to this world with the First Chain innately, and it is called the Fortress Of Contempt. An Invader does not automatically gain the other Chains as they gain Inner Night, and instead they must be learned separately, but appropriate dots of Inner Night are prerequisite.

Variations

Withered Invaders, Maramenoi Terata, often the ones who had undergone the Withering when they were swallowed by the Dark World, make-up half-ish of Dark Barony. Still monstrous in appearance, they tend to be more human shaped, normally favor Caligines and Hexes and will often utilize minions and misdirection to destroy the Lighttouched. They will continue to embody the dark philosophy that Withered them as a mere Darkspawn long ago. They are also called the Deluded.

Monstrous Invaders, Anoita Terata, the result of normal Darkspawn that managed to crawl their way out of the Dark World’s depths and are roughly half of their numbers. They tend to be the most bestial in appearance, often favoring Umbrae and Dread Powers and normally utilizing upfront wave tactics to ambush the Lighttouched at the head of a Darkspawn army. They are brutal sadists that have absolutely no care for how things are done, as long the Lighttouched die screaming. They are also called the Brutes.

Obsessed Invaders, Emmonika Terata, is an additional sub-variation that may be added to either of the above two. They have a focus on the non-event that lead to their creations, their plans and targets will often include things associated or peripheral to that thing and they will have powers and forms that ape and mock the horrible entity that never was.

Eldritch Invaders, Exogiinous Terata, were never human or any mortal creature of Earth, possibly impossible creations of destructive Darkness or entities of alien origin. Their appearances tend towards the bizarre, they often favor Hexes and Dread Powers and will act on alien whimsies to see that the world the Lighttouched protects is swallowed by Darkness. They are lonesome, loathsome creatures that either eschew companionship or limit it to a custom made cadre of elite minions. They are also called Freaks.

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard | High-Level Combat Parts 1-4 writeup

This post also contains transcriptions of the text that was in the video.

This was a four-part video series which has also been edited into a single standalone video for convenience. The video features an elven Warrior Rook from the Grey Warden background and who has taken the Champion spec.

Story/plot, flavor stuff, and other cool stuff

The footage in the new gameplay video was edited to avoid major spoilers, but there is still new story information in there.

Weisshaupt Fortress, the headquarters of the Grey Warden order located in the Anderfels, is under attack and under siege from the Blighted elven god Ghilan'nain, her Archdemon, and darkspawn. The darkspawn are following Ghilan'nain's orders. Rook and the Veilguard must stop her. They set off to find their allies in Weisshaupt and soon meet resistance from the darkspawn. Lots of sacs of Blight corruption are growing on the buildings that make up the fortress. Blight sacs (or something that looks like them. the lil parachute things) fall on the fortress too like missiles. Ghil's face watches the siege from the stormy sky.

This quest is called "The Siege of Weisshaupt". The fact that Weisshaupt would come under attack from the weird darkspawn and a dragon in DA:TV actually first emerged as a detail during a leak a few years ago. Stages and objectives in this questline include "Get to the War Room (Move along the wall)", "Find the dragon trap (Move along the wall)", "Find the dragon trap (Defeat the darkspawn)" and "Get to the Library (Defeat the darkspawn)". I'd guess that said dragon trap in this instance is for Ghil's Archdemon, though it makes sense why the Wardens would even have such a thing as a dragon trap seeing as the Archdemons, when they rise, are in dragon form. Could it be anything like the setup that had confined Ataashi in Trespasser? Also, lore says that Weisshaupt is home to an extensive library.

As this is high-level combat gameplay, the implication could potentially be that this storybeat occurs during the mid-to-late game?

It seems that at times certain companions are required to be taken along on certain quests (iirc this was previously reported in an article somewhere too). For example, Davrin is required during The Siege of Weisshaupt, as it is a Grey Warden quest and he is the Grey Warden companion.

I think Warden Rook's surname is Thorne (Grey Warden symbol in the image). The Rook in the video has the first name "Esha".

Solas' Lyrium dagger isn't only a story thing/magic maguffin artifact that can tear the Veil. When Rook gets it, it appears to have a function/use in gameplay as well. Rook can attach 3 runes to it in different slots. These runes have various functions and effects e.g. Scorch.

The companions are described like this:

Bellara - "Veil Jumper"

Davrin - "Grey Warden"

Emmrich - "Mourn Watcher"

Harding - "Inquisition Agent" (Agent of the remnants?)

Lucanis - "Antivan Crow"

Neve - "Shadow Dragon"

Taash - "Lord of Fortune"

We see additional descriptions for some of them:

Davrin - "Sword-and-board monster hunter commands a griffon"

Lucanis - "Swift and precise assassin with a demonic aura"

Emmrich - "Nevarran professor of death summons spirits"

Harding - "Potion-slinging scout's arrows shock and shred"

(I love these lil descriptions btw, the way they're written is like poetry)

Along with his demonic aura, Lucanis (called "The Demon" per TN) has an ability called Abominate. Implications.. intriguing :D

Lucanis' abilities tend towards crowd control. Davrin can call Assan to attack in battle. He flies down like a meteor or comet and it's so cool. :)

The video includes a bit of flavor text for Grey Wardens from an ability description and a specialization description:

Ultimate Ability [of Grey Warden Rook, presumably] – Warden’s Fire Unleash a barrage of strikes with the burning strength that resides within every Grey Warden. [this does fire damage] Specialization – Champion The pinnacle of Grey Warden combat prowess. The Champion is a born leader who rallies their allies, turns their fervor into flame, and wields a shield as a deadly weapon.

(^ The fire damage and fire motif contained in the above makes sense as darkspawn are vulnerable to elemental fire damage. also, I think when Rook uses Warden's Fire, they blow a horn 'Gondor calls for aid' style, which is super cool.)

The video includes new lore in the form of item descriptions for various gear pieces. Each item appears to be associated with one of the factions, as it has that faction's sigil on its info box.

These guys are darkspawn ghouls. One type is called a Greater Ghoul. (Does that imply the existence of "Lesser Ghouls" or just "Ghouls"?) These are melee mobs. Another darkspawn enemy type is Greater Hurlock Spiker. Those are ranged mobs that throw the spikes from their backs. There are also regular Greater Hurlocks (I think those are these guys) and Greater Hurlock Blighters. The Blighters seem to have sacs of red Blight corruption on their backs, and you can see them throwing globs of this around, thereby spreading the Blight like their name suggests. it seems like these globs explode after impact like grenades or bombs. of course, all darkspawn spread Blight, but that's like an evolution of spreading.

The video features new music.

Enemies can be Sparta-kicked off ledges. Throw your shield like Captain America! (or at least its energy-shadow thing) This Rook has an ability called Titan Stomp.

Lucanis sometimes leaps around in a dramatic burst of crow feathers, kinda flying (it feels like) down from above like a bird of prey.

Thoughts, speculation

Gameplay looks super cool and fun oh shit!

If the plotbeats described above (Ghil, Archdemon, Weisshaupt siege etc) aren't considered by BioWare to be "major spoilers", it makes me wonder about the plotbeats and twists they aren't revealing that would be. yknow?

If Ghilan'nain has an Archdemon, might Elgar'nan also? We've seen different concept art pieces and scenes with two dragons in them, and we have long speculated about a 'Double Blight' of some kind. Two Elven Gods have risen; handily, prior to DA:TV beginning, two Old Gods/Archdemons remained (Razikale and Lusacan). In DA:TV teaser murals and art pieces, the concentric circles motif still had the two 'lit' hemispheres around the outside. If they both have one, which Old God is paired with which Evanuris? BUT. Saying that. alternate theory. how do we even know that her Archdemon is a real Archdemon? Corypheus in DA:I used red lyrium to transform a High dragon into an imitation of an archdemon, his red lyrium dragon. Thedosians initially presumed that this was a real Archdemon. if Cory can do it, why not Ghil and Elgar'nan? Ghil at least has clearly been messing with red lyrium given the red lyrium darkspawn.

I hope we get to visit Weisshaupt at some point before the siege takes place, I'd like to see it as it was and explore it a bit before that happens. 🥺 Weisshaupt in the game looks so like previous concept arts we saw of it (one, two), it's so cool to see all the art pieces come to game-life as assets in-game. also I love all the lil griffon assets around Weisshaupt, like the sleepy statue. and could this scene be the Weisshaupt War Room?

On Ghil's face in the storm: on DA Day 2023 BioWare said:

"To the far west, three Grey Wardens patrol the Anderfels. Tremors have been causing disturbances of late. Their cause is unknown. Upon the distant horizon, a storm of ominous intent brews and darkens the skies."

they were being literal ig about the storm of ominous intent darkening the skies! and then I guess the storm in this concept art of Weisshaupt is the Ghilstorm.

Why would Ghil attack Weisshaupt with darkspawn? I'm sure there's more to it underneath the surface, but from what we know so far, the elven gods are "corrupt"/"Blighted" and are "hellbent on Blighting the world". and if you want to spread a Blight, it makes sense that you would target.. the HQ of the world's main and only defense against the Blight. it's also not a surprise that she is doing so (I don't mean this in a disparaging way. I just mean 'stories put out clues and foreshadowing for the next plotbeats, and if you were following the clues as intended' etc) - we knew that the Anderfels had been experiencing unknown tremors lately and that a storm of ominous intent was brewing there. also, the new darkspawn are mutated and in TN the Wardens discovered in Hormak that Ghil had/has twelve (now eleven) secret underground monster pools in the Deep Roads that mutate darkspawn. lyrium was also involved in that instance, albeit yellow-green.

Ghil's attack on Weisshaupt also explains why in the Thedas Calls teaser trailer, it sounded like Weisshaupt was under attack and under imminent threat. (Ctrl+F "Weisshaupt" in this post for more on that). For example, the line "Grey Wardens don’t hide in our castle. I won’t ask good soldiers to turn tail and run." - this sounds like a dialogue line spoken by a senior Warden specifically during the Seige of Weisshaupt.

It also explains why in this Thedas Calls shot of Weisshaupt, Weisshaupt looks afflicted by red lyrium, there's a dark ominous storm vibe, and things look ruined/threatened. and it explains screenshots and scenes like this and why in the character reveal trailer Davrin was fighting red lyrium darkspawn in a Blighted dark area with griffon assets. (read the "Davrin" section here for more)

"They set off to find their allies in Weisshaupt and soon meet resistance from the darkspawn" - could this be Evka and Antoine? :)

I don't think we see any or many Wardens around in the sections of this quest that we see in this video. I definitely saw at least one dead one. what has befallen them? I hope some of them are surviving somewhere inside the fortress ;-; and where is the First Warden in all this? also, this must be awful for Davrin to see :< A Grey Warden witnessing the attack of your order's heart.

Fighting a darkspawn siege on the walls and roof of a famous fortress is giving me Battle of Denerim, Fort Drakon-DA:O-style vibes and memories. it's perfect :)

With Lucanis' demonic aura and Abominate ability, it's probably time to revisit the idea that there's something inchresting/spirit-demonny going on there. I'm curious to see the take on it this time around and how it differs to e.g. Wynne, Anders.

I love the way hair and capes flip around and move in battle!

^ Ghil's Archdemon, or "Archdemon"? At this point it also looks like.. sacs of Blighted corruption (or something) are falling from the sky down onto Weisshaupt/being launched at Weisshaupt by the darkspawn/Ghil as part of the seige!! jesus!!

Some random other posts of things like stuff I noticed: Davrin and Lucanis height comparison (who knows if it's to scale on that screen though), Summon Baby Button, Davrin and Lucanis icons, Lucanis' smirk, Davrin picture compilation, Emmrich and Harding on the party screen, darkspawn advance, useable trebuchet/dead Warden/giant ominous tube, aeries?/griffon lamp/+2 Heartwood

Item description lore

Each item appears to be associated with a faction, as it has that faction's sigil on its info box. For example, the Golden Casque helm is a Lord of Fortune item.

GEAR WIELDED BY ROOK "Golden Casque – rare heavy helm – [Lords of Fortune] Tall and plumed, this fine helmet is the color of gold – but much harder to dent. The Iron Cast – rare heavy armor ��� [Mourn Watch] This armor’s vividly sculpted musculature is a testament to Nevarra’s unrivalled knowledge of anatomy. Necropolis Defender – rare targe [a targe is a type of shield historically used by Scottish Highlanders] – [Mourn Watch] The elite guards who stand watch at the gates of the Grand Necropolis use these shields to guard against both the living and the dead. Spellbound Longsword – rare longsword – [Shadow Dragons] This enchanted longsword is bound with burning magic. Andraste’s Will – unique ring – [Shadow Dragons] Andraste was tied to a stake and burned while her earthly husband turned his armies aside and did nothing, for his heart had been devoured. Amaranthine Loop – uncommon ring – [Antivan Crows] Favored by Crows, the uniform rows of stones add balance and precision to every blow. Also some elegance. Heart of Andraste – uncommon amulet – [Lords of Fortune] A charm given to newly anointed Fathers of the Imperial Chantry, the cracked stone serves as a reminder of Andraste’s mortal heart." Rook was also wielding a big hammer and wearing a belt, the icon did not pass over their infoboxes during the video. GEAR WIELDED BY DAVRIN "Blight Killer – rare longsword – [Grey Wardens] An intimidating, one-of-a-kind sword cut from solid obsidian. It is perfectly balanced. Reforged Bulwark – uncommon heater (shield) – [Grey Wardens] Reclaimed from the ruins of an old Warden stronghold, this shield honors the sacrifices of Wardens past while defending their future." Davrin was also wielding his iconic/default armor and what looked like a dagger or shortsword. The icon did not pass over their infoboxes during the video.

Part 1

Text notes in this part:

"Combat Part 1: Prepare For Battle This is an introduction to high-level combat. Footage has been edited for brevity and to avoid major spoilers. Weisshaupt Fortress is under attack from Ghilan’nain and her Archdemon. Rook and the Veilguard must stop her. Let’s get your warrior ready for battle. Abilities & Runes -  Assign abilities and an ultimate attack before jumping into battle. - Equip runes to enhance your power set and access unique abilities when activated. - Choose runes that boost a Warrior’s damage and help with crowd control. Skill Tree - Each combat class has an array of specializations to choose from. - Your Rook has chosen the Champion branch, which favors strong defensive skills. - Utilizing passive abilities like Heavy Armor Mastery will help boost defense if you are equipped with all heavy armor. - You’re going to be battling darkspawn, who are vulnerable to fire. Fiery Resolve will grant us “Flaming Weapons” for a duration when we parry an enemy attack. - We’ll be doing a deep dive on progression systems in the future. Inventory - For this build, you’ll want a full set of heavy armor to activate our Heavy Armor Mastery passive. - Rook is primarily using a Sword & Shield since it allows you to be more defensive. - If you prefer a more aggressive playstyle, two-handed weapons deal more damage, but have fewer defensive options. - The Spellbound Longsword deals high Stagger and can trigger powerful takedowns. - We’ll cover Stagger in Part of this series. - Rook has a fire-based, darkspawn-killer build. - This ring grants a bonus to the max number of burning stacks, which results in more damage over time. - This is just one type of build. Other examples include customizing to emphasize your Shield Toss or Takedowns. - Personalize yours to fit your preferred playstyle. - Selected companions can aid Rook by equipping complementary gear and passives. - This is a Grey Warden mission, so you should bring Davrin into battle with you. [Character selection screen] - In addition to Davrin, you decide to take Lucanis into battle based on his crowd control abilities."

This is what the character screen looks like. There are 'pages' for Map, Character, Companions, Skills and Library. (Library is for the codexes basically).

Gear-wise Rook can equip two different weapons (in this case they have a sword+shield and also a hammer in the 2h slot), helmet, an armor, and what looks like 1 belt/accessory, 1 necklace/accessory and 2 rings. Helmet has a 'hide helmet' toggle. Additionally, the Lyrium dagger has slots for 3 runes. There are also slots at the bottom for 3 abilities and 1 Ultimate Attack (I think). I think the Ultimate ability is based on Rook's background.

There looks like there's 3 different types of things we gather, plus another submenu if you press triangle to see the resources (heartwood etc). The one on the right looks like gold/coin. I wonder what the other two are?

This is what the equivalent pane for Davrin looks like in the Companions menu. Companions have less customizable gear slots than Rook.

This looks like the relationship meter. In this save, Davrin seems to be at relationship level 4 with Rook, a stage which is called "Comrade in Arms".

This is what the 'choose your team'/'gather your party' screen looks like. The companions' cards are these art pieces. At this point in this save, Neve is the only one with the Veilguard sigil above her card. Michael Gamble tweeted that this means "she is a hero of the Veilguard." [source] Maybe this means that her 'loyalty mission', or this game's equivalent thereof, has been completed so that Neve has been able to fully commit to the Veilguard?

Part 2

Text notes in this part:

“Combat Part 2: The Basics Now that Rook, Davrin & Lucanis have the right gear and skills, the team sets off to find their allies. Soon, they are met with resistance by the darkspawn, blighted creatures following Ghilan’nain’s orders. Assess The Battlefield - First, learn the enemy types to strategically exploit their weaknesses. Darkspawn are vulnerable to fire. - You will also see that they are resistant to Necrosis. - Enemies have a multitude of damage vulnerabilities and resistances. - Abilities which exploit weaknesses have a green outline. - Rook encounters a swarm of darkspawn ghouls who favor overwhelming melee. - The ghouls are joined by Hurlock spikers, ranged combatants who are also vulnerable to fire. - Time a Shield Block to parry an incoming attack, which provides an opportunity for a high-damage counterattack. - With this successful parry, the Fiery Resolve passive skill activates Flaming Weapons. Melee attacks will now do fire damage instead of physical. - Use the Kick ability to deal massive damage and knock enemies off ledges. - Shield Throw is an effective ranged attack that can destroy obstacles and quickly close the gap between you and an enemy. - Health pots are available throughout the world. Grab them to prepare for what’s ahead. - Use the Ability Wheel to pause the action, cast abilities, and direct your companions. - Some enemies have tougher additional protection that needs to be removed. A yellow bar indicates Armor Barrier. - Armor is resistant to most attacks. Heavy attacks are the most effective against it. - Here, the darkspawn horde begins to overwhelm. - You can cast Spectral Bulwark, which damages enemies who land melee hits. - This allows you to fearlessly get into the thick of battle. - Enemies have a lavender stagger bar that builds when you land hits. - While an enemy is Staggered, they take bonus damage, and you can deliver a powerful takedown."

Part 3

Text notes in this part:

“Combat Part 3: Buffs, Debuffs, & Crowd Control You’ve mastered your core abilities. Now it’s time to face down a variety of enemies, all at once. Spacing Strategy - This Rook is a Warrior, specializing in the Champion branch, which favors a defensive style of fighting. - Warriors are front-line fighters capable of devastating, up-close attacks. - Rook and their companions can also deploy different tools, such as area-of-effect attacks to uniquely manage various enemies. Buffs & Debuffs - Additionally, activate companion buffs and debuffs to apply status effects. - One example of a buff is Lucanis’ Adrenaline Rush ability which enhances Rook’s damage stats. - Davrin has Heroic Strike, which applies the overwhelmed debuff. This causes the target to take additional Stagger. Crowd Control - This build activates the Shield Volley Passive, which ricochets your shield 3 times if you hit it with a heavy attack. - Rook is getting attacked on all sides, so you command Lucanis to use Abominate to knock enemies down. Fighting At A Distance - Use abilities, like Davrin’s Death From Above, to deal damage from afar. - Or use your Grappling Spear to pull them close.”

Part 4

Text notes in this part:

“Combat Part 4: Primers, Detonators, & Ultimates As your fight progresses, use primers, detonators, and ultimates with strategic timing to turn the tide of battle. Primers & Detonators - Rook can create incredibly damaging combo detonations with the help of their companions. - Assess the situation, and determine which primers and detonators work best against each enemy type. - Command Davrin to Taunt to gather nearby enemies. - Activate the Crystallize rune to freeze the gathered group in place. - Lucanis can use Eviscerate to detonate the combo and strike the whole group. Ultimate Attacks - As the battle progresses, Rook can unleash a destructive ultimate attack. - Now that you’ve mastered these combat strategies and tactics, let’s see them all in action."

Abilities, passives etc

For these I focused mostly on the move’s name + its description. In some cases there's sort of two as there's the one from the Ability Wheel and the one from the Skill Tree.

ROOK Driving Kick – Focus all your strength and determination into one mighty kick. / Deals a very high amount of Stagger. Grappling Spear – Harpoon your targets with a strong throw and drag them in for a closer encounter. / Pulls your target towards you. Press [button] or [button] to perform a follow-up attack Spectral Bulwark – Hone your guard and protect yourself from enemies foolish enough to attack. Enemies who hit you with a melee attack take damage and very high […]. / While active, enemies who hit you with a melee attack take damage and very high Stagger. [Ultimate] Warden’s Fire – Unleash a barrage of strikes with the burning strength that resides within every Grey Warden. Applies Burning to enemies [Specialization] Champion – The pinnacle of Grey Warden combat prowess. The Champion is a born leader who rallies their allies, turns their fervor into flame, and wields a shield as a deadly weapon. [Greater Passive] Heavy Armor Mastery - +Defense while wearing a heavy helm and armor. You are now less likely to be disrupted when getting hit. [Greater Passive] Fiery Resolve – Gain Flaming Weapons on Perfect Defense. Flaming Weapons lasts 50% longer. Titan Stomp – Deals very high Stagger to nearby enemies. LUCANIS Adrenaline Rush – Grants enhanced damage Abominate – Deals high Barrier damage and applies Knocked down to enemies in the area Eviscerate – At half health of less, this deals bonus damage, increasing in effectiveness the closer the target is to death DAVRIN Death From Above – Deals high Stagger [summons Assan to attack] Heroic Strike – Deals high Stagger Battle Cry – Applies Taunted to enemies in the area

There were also names and info popups of different runes, e.g. Mend.

[source]

[daitranscripts]

The Descent Pt. 7

Bastion of the Pure

The Descent Masterpost First: Storm Coast Fissure Previous: Forgotten Caverns

The party emerges into a huge cavern glowing with lyrium.

Party comments:

Dorian: Look at that. Like stars at night.

Varric: (Chuckles.) I just became the most popular dwarf in the Merchant’s Guild.

Sera: That is too much of… that stuff.

Cole: It’s singing. A they that’s an it that’s asleep, but still making music.

Solas: It is beautiful.

Valta: All these lyrium veins. And they’re completely untapped.

PC: The Sha-Brytol must mine lyrium somewhere—their weapons and armor are laced with it.

Valta: Unless they’ve found another way to harness it.

They fight more Sha-Brytol as well as some other creatures.

Valta: These creatures aren’t deepstalkers. What do they eat to survive?

Cassandra: Us, if we are not careful.

PC (if Cassandra isn’t in party): Probably best not to think about that too much.

They continue into the lyrium caves.

Valta: I see no evidence of darkspawn here.

Blackwall: Maybe they know better than to come down this far.

PC: Let’s just be grateful.

Valta: But there must be a reason they avoid this place…

They continue until they find a blockade of sorts.

Valta: They built this to stop us. There must be some way to get through.

The PC places one of the earthshaker weapons they’ve picked up, and it breaks through the wall with an explosion.

Valta: This weapon of theirs cut through the barrier, but was destroyed in the effort.

PC: Let’s keep gathering their weapons. There may be more barriers ahead.

They continue.

PC: You said we’re beneath the Deep Roads. Do you think anyone besides the Sha-Brytol has traveled down here?

Valta: We are very likely the first to travel this far.

There’s a huge quake.

Valta: That was the most powerful tremor yet.

PC: Did you hear the same rhythm?

Valta: It’s getting faster. Harsh. Like… something breathing.

They fight more Sha-Brytol.

Valta: We’re both children of the Stone. Please—stop!

The defeat the Sha-Brytol and destroy the wall behind them.

Valta: I hate destroying these weapons. They’re artifacts. We could learn from them.

PC: We have no choice. It’s the only way through the barriers.

They destroy another barrier.

Valta: We’re getting quite good at this.

If Cole is in party Cole: It sings softly under the silence. The Stone took him back. He's home again. Valta: Somehow that brings me comfort.

If Cole is not in party Valta: Nothing like these dwarves is mentioned anywhere in the Memories. If I had been prepared… Renn might still be alive.

Dialogue options:

General: Don't blame yourself. [1]

General: They were ready for us. [2]

General: We keep moving or we all die. [3]

1 - General: Don't blame yourself. PC: It's easy to blame ourselves when we lose a friend, Valta, but it's not your fault. I was so focused on the Titan, I didn't consider what else could be down here. [4]

2 - General: They were ready for us. PC: With those weapons and armor, few would have had a chance. We need to stop the earthquakes before we lose anyone else. Renn will not die in vain. [4]

3 - General: We keep moving or we all die. PC: None of us will make it out of here if we don't keep moving. You're right. My apologies. [4]

4 - Scene continues.

The come across a massive barrier with endless swarms of Sha-Brytol.

Valta: We’ll need more than one weapon to cut through this. Can you hold them off while I work?

As the PC fights.

Valta: There’s no end to them!

Eventually the barrier is destroyed.

Valta: That’s it! We’re through!

They continue through a doorway and make camp.

Valta: The attacks are getting worse.

PC: We must be getting close to whatever they’re protecting.

PC (dwarf PC): Does that say “the pure”?

Valta: “Only the pure may pass. All others will be punished.” Assuming the Sha-Brytol are the pure…

PC: We’re the “others” who aren’t allowed to pass.

Valta: Could the earthquakes be the punishment?

5 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: Punishment for mining lyrium? [6]

Investigate: Why are the Sha-Brytol “pure”? [7]

General: More reason to stop them. [8]

General: This is bigger than quakes. [9]

General: Our objective is the same. [10]

6 - Investigate: Punishment for mining lyrium? PC: You found Paragon Garal’s book near a damaged lyrium mine. And the new earthquakes destroyed your mine. Valta: But why would they want to destroy the lyrium mines?

7 - Investigate: Why are the Sha-Brytol “pure”? PC: I wonder what makes the warriors “pure.” Varric: You spend long enough this far down, reason might not be your strong suit. Valta: They do wear sealed armor—to protect themselves from “impurities”?

8 - General: More reason to stop them. Inquisitor: If the tremors are deliberate, it could be disastrous for Orzammar’s lyrium mines. Valta: The Sha-Brytol were dwarves once. Something turned them against us.

9 - General: This is bigger than quakes. Inquisitor: Titans, the Sha-Brytol—this could be more than anything we expected. Valta: For all the Shaperate’s knowledge, I know so little.

10 - General: Our objective is the same. PC: Punishment or not, we need to stop the earthquakes.

11 - Scene continues.

Valta: This reads like a final warning. We must be nearing the source.

Next: The Wellspring

[supoctosss]

31 Days of Dragon Age

days 2-6 bs i've been in a car/dealing with a family emergency but finally have a chance to sit and write.

Based off this post

Oct 02- Favorite Origins romance= If you've seen my past posts the answer is obviously Zev, I love his love story so much and I ADORE the "I can't let myself fall for you" trope. He was my first romance and my headstrong Tabris that hates injustice and finds a little too much fun in killing people slowly falling for Zevran even though she's probably gonna die and she just wanted a few fun nights is my roman empire.

Oct 03- Favorite Origins companion= Zevran, if it wasn't obvious. He's so sweet and I love his character development and the whole him volunteering to go after the Grey Wardens bc he knew it was a suicide mission is NOT talked about enough

Oct 04-Favorite Location= Denerim, I will always be a sucker for cities in video games, plus every quest there is amazing

Oct 05- Favorite Origins Quest- Broodmother, easily. It's a pain to get to, but the storyline shock and horror is so worth it, also I love Branka and the Anvil bc it's really fun like playing as a character who dreamed of joining the Grey Wardens and do whatever to stop darkspawn, and being faced with the choice to kill dwarves and make golems. Or as a dwarf who'd do anything to reclaim the old Thaigs.

Oct 06- Favorite Origins NPC= Probably Tabris' family, one I feel like they are one of the more fleshed out families, plus I just love Soris and Shianni, there are also so many funny headcannons you can have with Cyrion.

[tired-truffle]

Yet Broken Still You Breathe

An AlistairxOC Fic

Chapter Word Count: 3.2k

Part 19/50

“No one will know the violence it took to become this gentle.” - Unknown

Masterlist

Darcy knew nothing of mercy. He was perhaps the most ruthless tyrant this world had ever known. He hadn’t so much as given Gwen a second to protest his orders, a smirk plastered to his face. In his mind, he was likely doing her a favour by pairing her up with Alistair to complete a request from a local Dalish elf, but Gwen would have preferred to face an entire horde of Darkspawn on her own than spend a moment alone with the nosey Grey Warden.

Gwen's morning had been emotionally draining enough as it was, especially after her encounter with Wynne. She had no desire to open up the conversation that Alistair had been eager to have since yesterday. Alistair, on the other hand, appeared thrilled when Darcy told him that Gwen would be accompanying him, though he tried to play it off as excitement to interact with a Halla once he saw Gwen’s dour look. 

With a cheeky grin and a wave, Darcy bid them good luck before joining the rest of the party on their journey to investigate the werewolves. Smug bastard.

“Have you ever seen a Halla before?” Alistair’s attempt at making small talk was undercut by the dark cloud that followed Gwen around. Sometime in their exploration of the Dalish camp the day before, Alistair had run into an elf in need of assistance with her Halla’s strange and aggressive behaviour.

“Have you not?” Gwen asked, her tone more biting than she’d meant it to be, but she did not correct herself.

“There aren’t many Halla in Redcliffe or in the Chantry, this was the first one I’d ever seen,” he admitted, unperturbed and enthusiastic as always despite her mood, “I was hoping you could help me figure it out, you’ve spent some time in the wilds, right?”

Gwen didn’t remember telling him that and she narrowed her eyes at him. He put his hands up in mock surrender, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, alright, no pushing into your past today, oh-prickly-one.”

Gwen resented that title and decided to quickly change the subject to avoid snapping at him. She may be a monster but she wasn’t a complete asshole. “Traded off ‘Guard Gwen’ duty with Leliana this morning, did you?”

As Gwen had emerged from her tent that morning, she’d caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. A blur of something fiery red flashed by, disappearing behind the trunk of a tall tree. She couldn't shake off the feeling that someone had been watching her all morning, especially during breakfast when she noticed Leliana, keeping a keen eye on her every move.

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck as a blush rose up his neck, he laughed nervously. “What? Me, on guard duty? The Knight-Captain was always admonishing me for napping on the job, but what can I say? Standing around for hours on end was dreadfully boring. How is anyone meant to stay awake the entire time?”

Gwen shot him a deadpan glare, her eyes devoid of any emotion, conveying that she was not in the mood for any nonsense. Alistair sighed, immediately caving. “Okay, you caught us, but can you really blame us after that conversation last night?”

“I thought you both wanted to trust me, that you thought I wasn’t dangerous,” Gwen grumbled, her arms folded across her chest. She wasn’t sure why she was so upset about this, it was a good thing they could see the danger she posed, it would keep them safer. But that petulant, selfish part of her had been so pleased to hear them talk about her as though she possessed some goodness, something worth knowing, and she was having a hard time parting with it.

Alistair furrowed his brow, “What are you talking about?” He grabbed her arm, pulling her to a halt and turning her to face him, though she kept herself squared partially away, unwilling to get too close to him. “I’m not worried about you hurting someone, I’m worried about someone hurting you.”

Gwen blinked dumbly, “Oh.”

“Oh indeed,” Alistair said with a lopsided grin that set her heart racing, “Sten and Morrigan were out of line, and I know Darcy trusts Zevran, but I don’t, his morals are all over the place. Any of them could try to hurt you and both Leliana and I agreed to keep an extra eye out for you. Because we care about you. Because we are friends.”

Gwen looked at her feet, suddenly very interested in the way she’d laced up her shoes, “I don’t need protection,” she mumbled halfheartedly, “I can take care of myself.”

“I know, but you’re getting it anyway, until we’re sure they won’t decide to go against Darcy’s command, I’m not going to risk it.”

Gwen’s stomach filled with butterflies, to have someone care so deeply about her safety… It was nice, though she’d admit that over her dead body. Which given her prognosis of death anytime within the next ten years, could be coming up soon.

“It could be worse, Leliana wanted to demand you share her tent, but I didn’t think you’d go for that.”

Gwen chuckled, lifting her head and taking the full brunt of Alistair’s smile upon her weak heart, “You thought right.”

“Occasionally I do that.” Alistair let go of her arm, “So how about we go help a lady with her Halla to pass the time?”

“If it dies do you think we could eat it?” Gwen asked, resuming their walk.

Alistair shot her a horrified look, “It’s her pet.”

Gwen chuckled, “I’m kidding,” she lied, and Alistair bought it, relief flooding his face in an over-exaggerated way that made Gwen suppress another laugh laugh. Food was food as far as she was concerned.

Faint rays of golden light filtered through the canopy, casting a warm glow on the far end of the Dalish Camp. A herd of majestic Halla grazed peacefully on the rich green grass, their white coats gleaming under the gentle sun. Their elegant silver horns spiralled high and proud, almost as if they were reaching for the sky itself. Gwen couldn't help but stare in awe at these magnificent creatures, knowing that she had only encountered them a handful of times in the wilds after she… left the orphanage.

Memories flooded back to her, memories of running for days on end, her body battered and bruised, her deformed face exposed for all to see. Her feet had been torn to shreds from lack of proper footwear and her shabby dress hung in tatters after catching on branches and thorns, hands torn to shreds from hours spent digging. She’d barely felt any of it, terror and sorrow filling her veins like lead and replacing all other sensations. Pain didn’t matter, the only that mattered was that Lucy was gone and it was all her fault, it was all-

Every step she took, every breath she drew, was plagued by this crushing guilt.

As she’d collapsed to her knees, every ounce of strength drained from her body. Her sobs echoed through the forest, raw and desperate, as if a spirit was wrenching them out of her throat. At that moment, when she thought she couldn't take anymore, a magnificent Halla appeared before her. Its elegant hooves glided softly against the leaf-strewn ground as it approached, its presence stealing the air from her lungs and causing her body to go still. The beast's warm breath caressed her wet cheeks as it sniffed at her, its powerful frame towering over her small form. She remained motionless, knowing from Lucy's books that these creatures were not aggressive towards humans. But animals were known to get aggressive around monsters, fearing for their lives. She couldn't blame them - after all, she was scared of herself too.

To her surprise, the majestic creature lowered its head in a gesture of submission, resting its smooth forehead against her own. Gwen's breath caught in her throat, the first time she had taken a full, deep breath in what felt like days. The Halla emanated a calming aura that seeped into her body like a balm of cool water on a scorching summer day. They stood there, breathing in sync for what felt like hours, until Gwen's foggy mind cleared and her lungs stopped screaming at her to rest.

Finally, the Halla backed away, its graceful body dipping forward in a bow. Gwen returned the gesture with a nod, unsure of how else to respond to such a magnificent creature. It seemed to be enough, and without another sound or movement, the Halla bounded off into the thick forest, disappearing from sight.

Gwen was left alone once again, but now with the ability to think straighter than before.

It probably smelled Lucy’s blood on me, it must have covered up my tainted blood, she had told herself. And now, in the present with Alistair and Elora - the Hallas’ handler - that thought would be put to the test.

Elora was a graceful and willowy elf, her lithe figure moving with fluidity and ease as she tended to the animals on the farm. Her long, pale blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, a practical choice when working with creatures that may try to nibble on it. The sun had kissed her skin with a warm tan, adding a golden glow to her already radiant appearance. She welcomed Gwen with hopeful eyes, clearly excited by Alistair's endorsement of her skills. Elora then proceeded to explain the situation once more; one of their prized Halla had been acting strangely since the recent werewolf attack on their camp. Elora feared it may have been bitten and would eventually succumb to its injuries. However, the animal remained agitated and wouldn't allow anyone near it. Elora believed it associated her with the traumatic event, as she had been the one guiding the animals to safety during the attack. Desperate for help, she pleaded for someone to try and calm the distressed creature down and was grateful that they had answered the call.

“I don’t know much about Halla,” Gwen warned, “I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this.”

“That is alright, it means so much to me that you would be willing to try,” Elora said with blinding earnestness.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Gwen,” Alistair chided playfully, “you’re plenty calming when you try to be.”

Gwen narrowed her eyes and shot him a fierce glare, but his grin only widened in response. It seemed her once-effective glares were now powerless against him. She turned her attention to the magnificent Halla, its powerful hooves striking the ground in frustration. Its coat gleamed in the sunlight, a mesmerizing blend of gold and silver that seemed to shimmer with every movement. It would be a shame if they had to kill it, but it would also be doing it a disservice to let it suffer needlessly.

Gwen gracefully lowered herself onto one knee, her palms facing upwards in a gesture of submission. She cast her gaze down, not daring to meet the piercing eyes of the creature before her. Her body remained still, a statue frozen in time, as she held her breath and waited for any sign of movement. Behind her, Alistair and Elora held their breaths in anticipation. The Halla let out a snort, its hooves pawing at the ground with restless energy. Its powerful sense of smell worked overtime as it deliberated whether Gwen posed a threat or not. Inwardly, Gwen willed herself to remain calm and composed, knowing that any hint of fear would only make matters worse. The tension was thick in the air, like a heavy fog that threatened to suffocate them all.

The animal carefully trotted forward, sniffing warily as it went, before it stopped in front of her, its wet nose tickling her hairline as it inspected her. It brought her back to that moment in the woods all those years ago, she’d been so lost, so utterly and completely broken, unsure of why she was even trying to survive. And the Halla had appeared to save her, not physically as her wounds had stayed raw, but from the storm that had raged inside her. Now it was her turn to repay its kindness to another of its species.

The feel of soft fur against her forehead alerted her to the Halla’s decision. It had trusted her, and in a display of that trust, had bent down, its front legs bowed as it rested its head against hers. She slowly reached out, her hands meeting the course fur under its chin and petting it softly.

Distantly, she heard Elora scurry around them, examining the Halla and muttering to herself until she finally declared, “I’ve got it!”

The noise disturbed the Halla, who pulled back from Gwen’s grasp with a gruff whine, shaking its head as though it was trying to rid itself of flies. Elora winced at her mistake and the Halla released one more whinny before scampering off towards the rest of the herd.

Gwen sighed heavily, finding herself missing the animal more than she should for having just met it, and picked herself off the ground. Elora flounced into her field of vision, an excited squeal escaping her lips as she clasped Gwen’s hands in her own, “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I finally figured it out, and I couldn’t have done it without you, ma serannas, Gwen.”

“Uh, you’re welcome, I guess,” Gwen stuttered, her cheeks heating with embarrassment over the girl’s enthusiasm.

“What did I tell you,” Alistair said, coming to rest his arm around her shoulders and furthering the redness blossoming across her face, “Gwen’s a natural.”

Gwen ducked out of both their grasps, taking a large step back, her hands held up to ward them off, panicking slightly as to how much she would have liked to stay so close to Alistair, his arm around her, his chest pressed against her side, “It was nothing.”

“And modest too,” Alistair teased, before thankfully giving her a moment to cool off, “I am curious though, what was wrong with it?”

“Oh, right, of course!” Elora exclaimed, clasping her hands together, “She wasn’t injured so she will be fine, she was afraid for her sick mate, that’s all.”

Alistair furrowed his brow, “You can tell that just by looking at it?”

“It’s my job to read their body language, you get used to picking up subtle hints, she was acting out because she wanted the other Hallas to know not to mess with her mate. It’s hard to explain to a human, we Dalish have a special connection with them, even if they don’t always listen when we ask them to calm down.” Elora looked at Gwen with consideration, “Do you have some Dalish in your blood? You’re awfully good with Halla for someone not of our people.”

Gwen longed for a simpler family history, one free of the dark secrets that pulsed through her veins. She shrugged nonchalantly, but inside she was fighting the urge to fidget with the grass beneath her feet. She could feel Alistair's gaze on her, drawn in by the mere mention of a potential tidbit about her murky past. His eyes gleamed with curiosity and she couldn't help but wonder - for what felt like the millionth time - what he would think of her if he knew the truth.

“Either way,” Elora moved on, “I really can’t thank you enough for your kindness. If you ever need any help that we can provide, I will be the first to step up in support.” The elf bowed her head.

“Thanks,” Gwen said, her tone clipped as she tried her best to ignore the discomfort that came from being thanked so profusely.

“We should head back to camp, lots to do, more animals to calm and kittens to save from trees and all that,” Alistair joked, “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you around before we depart, we wish you the best of luck with your Halla, Elora.”

“Dareth Shiral, Alistair and Gwen,” Elora said as they parted, returning to her Halla with renewed vigour.

Only an hour had passed, and they were already finished with their daily task. Gwen couldn't deny that the unexpected break was a welcomed relief, but she couldn't shake the guilt of it being because of her loss of control from the day before. Still, she saw this as an opportunity to catch up on other tasks she had been meaning to accomplish. However, there was one thing she was dreading: alone time with Alistair. Last night, he had hinted at wanting to talk about something important, but he hadn't brought it up again since. Despite his upbeat demeanour and cheerful humming as they walked side by side, Gwen couldn't help but feel anxious for that other shoe to drop.

“How did you know to do that?” He asked as soon as Elora was out of earshot.

Gwen shrugged again, “It’s just the basics of interacting with prey animals, stay still and avert your gaze so they don’t see you as a threat and as long as they don’t see you as prey you’re probably safe.”

“Well, consider me amazed. If I’d come clunking along in my armour the Halla would have given me a haircut instead of a kiss and then how would anyone take me seriously if I had a strip missing down the middle of my head?” Picturing the look of dismay that would have crossed Alistair’s face had such a thing come to pass had Gwen giggling.

She wasn’t sure if she’d giggled since she was a child, and Alistair knew it too, it only spurred him on in his quest to make her laugh, “Have you ever thought about a career in animal wrangling?” He elbowed her side playfully and she swatted at his arm.

“What do you think I’m doing now?” She shot back, her eyes crinkled in mirth.

Alistair laughed, “You’ve been spending too much time around Morrigan, you went and spent all your daily allotment of kindness on the Halla and now there is none left for me, I see how it is.”

“You’ll live.”

“Ooh, the indifference of it all!” Alistair clutched at his heart as though she’d stabbed right through it, though he was betrayed by the smile plastered across his face. Gwen giggled again, Maker damn him.

“All jokes aside, I am being sincere. You and the Halla in all your majesty were a sight to behold. One day I’ll have to commission it as a painting.” Alistair's deep, soulful brown eyes held hers with an intensity that made her stomach do somersaults. She couldn't help but feel a heat rise to her cheeks, and she quickly averted her gaze, hoping to hide behind the curtain of her hair. But even as she looked away, she could feel his piercing gaze following her every move, keeping her captive in its powerful hold.

“You’ll hang it in your castle halls, your Highness?” Gwen refused to be the only one embarrassed. Sure enough, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Alistair with a blush to match her own.

“You don’t fight fair, but I appreciate it nonetheless. How about we call a truce until we return to camp?”

“What happens when we get to camp?”

He smirked that adorable, boyish smirk that tugged at her heart, “Then all bets are off.”

Next Chapter

A/N: Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think so far :) I only have 15 more chapters to draft before I have them all done, it's gonna be bittersweet, on one hand I love completing a fic, but then I always miss the characters so much!

I hope you enjoyed a little bit of fluff before the break! I will be away without internet for a week, but I will have the next chapter up hopefully by Sunday July 7th, if not it'll be the Monday :)

[littlelostmabari]

Day 16: Lowtown

I have a backlog, here's one that's out of order :)

Characters: Reader!gn!Surana, Alistair, Hawke, Anders, Varric, Aveline

Pairings: Reader!gn!Surana x Alistair, Hawke x Anders, previous Reader!gn!Surana x Anders if you squint

CW: Everything that comes with the end of Act 2 DA2. Kirkwall. Violence. :)

Word Count: 1.4k

The streets were filthy. How did people live like this?

"Well now I can't ever to take you to Darktown, love."

You turn your head over your shoulder at the sound of his voice.

"You had that look on your face, that 'the streets are filthy' and 'how could people live like this'?"

"How did you know?," you snorted, and Alistair grinned goofily back at you.

"You had the same look the first time you entered the Alienage in Denerim." He stepped forward to stand next to you, his eyes darting between yours as his smile shifted from goofy to genuine and soft. You brushed gauntleted fingers across the back of his closest hand, too nervous to take his hand even in the empty streets. It was enough to rocket a blush straight to the top of his cheeks.

"Oh, look at that, what were we talking about again?" Alistair took the lead with a hand to the back of his neck. "Darkspawn? Deadly flowers? Um… Nugs?" You giggled and followed him down the sandstone street.

The two of you were in Kirkwall to recruit for the Wardens, and the last three days had been a bust — the Wardens would take everyone who was willing, but the two men and one woman that had offered to follow you out of this rotting carcass of a city were rotten themselves. One refused to follow a Warden Commander who was a mage, the others unable to hold a sword or bow.

Your boat wouldn't leave Kirkwall for another day and a half, so now were you were wandering the streets of Lowtown and wishing for something to distract the both of you. Mostly from the situation with the Wardens and the lack thereof.

But also from the sway of Alistair's ass as he walked ten feet ahead of you, head on a swivel for threats in the nighttime air of Lowtown. It was that distraction that kept you from seeing the bulky shape emerge from the shadows of the side street. It barreled into and over you and sent you spilling against a series of crates.

"Katara Vashedan! Itwa-ost!"

"Ali!" you cry from the ground as you barely get an elbow underneath you. "Angry qunari! Help please!"

Hovering over you as he was, the enormous man did not expect a shield bash from the blistering rage that Alistair Theirin became when he and his were threatened. Suddenly your vision was filled with the blinding light of the Maker, as Alistair dropped a smite on the creature that had ambushed you. It accompanied a growling cry.

"Hands off the merchandise, asshole!"

Alistair guarded you as you rose to your feet and palmed your staff and summoned a lance of Fade energy. The gash in your side from landing against the crates would have to wait, as the qunari was also rising to his feet.

The man stood at least a foot taller than Alistair, who already had a solid six inches on you, but he had made a mistake targeting two of the best trained fighters in Kirkwall. You remarked to Alistair that it was a shame, that he had been a skilled warrior, even as he hit the ground with wounds that did not permit him to rise again.

You only had a moment to glance between yourselves as the sound of further fighting reached your ears. Your attack had not been an anomaly, and you quickly pulled the pouches at your belt open for quick access to lyrium and elfroot as another three of the hulking warriors ascended the low stairs into what would become your arena.

Alistair was your shield wall as you chucked lance after lance over his shoulders in a coordinated dance. The two of you had fought attached at the hip for years, and it showed. He effortlessly acquiesced to your orders as his commanding officer, and you supported him with periodic healing auras as the qunari bashed against his bulwark. He had not yet failed you, and he would not do so tonight.

His life for yours. Yours for his.

It would be this way forever, if you had anything to say about it.

Then a howling cry from the rooftop adjacent to the crowded corner of Lowtown that was quickly filling with qunari corpses. The flash of a greatsword did not meet your shield of fade energy, instead striking down the qunari rogue who had managed to sneak in behind you to strike with poisoned daggers. Black hair swung in the face of the newcomer, but that was the only quality you could distinguish before Alistair's wellbeing demanded your attention again.

"Do you know Sten?" Alistair taunted, his blade locked with the sword of a brutish warrior. "Because he calls the one back there 'kadan', and I'm pretty sure that means we're off limits." You snorted and sent a bolt of energy directly into Alistair's back to haste and strengthen him. Between the boost and the qunari man's clear confusion, Alistair was able to break the stalemate and push his enemy onto the back foot. Then, Alistair's sword met nothing but air as the man in front of him sank to the ground with a crossbow bolt sliced through one temple and out the other.

"Easy there, golden boy," another voice called out from the raised landing behind him. You could see a dwarf reloading an intricate crossbow and aiming it for another of the invaders infiltrating the battlefield from the docks side.

"Golden boy? GOLDEN BOY?" Alistair pulled his sword from the body of another warrior and squared up to the final wave of qunari. He muttered something about being "rude" under his breath, and you laughed aloud just in time to reach for another lance of Fade energy. The last of them fell to the combined power of the Wardens and these newcomers, who seemed to be accompanied by a woman of powerful build and shield even stronger than Alistair's and…

"Anders?" you whisper, fingertips going to your lips as Alistair fussed over the wound in your side. Alistair stilled, hands on your waist, and looked up into your tightly wound face before pulling back and donning the mask you would hate forever — that of the passive subordinate.

The other mage froze as he was named. He was attending to the dark-haired woman with the same attention that you had just pulled Alistair from. You didn't need to see his face to know it was him — the mannerisms, the voice that called out healing magic in the midst of the battle… and the taint within him. He turned his head to look over his shoulder and it confirmed your identification.

"Awwwwkwaaaard," hummed the dwarf, who was scanning the perimeter for any more threats. Anders cleared his throat and finished casting his magic, which slowly closed the wound on the warrior's side. When he finally turned, it was with his head held high.

"Warden-Commander." His address was formal, more formal than his goodbye had been.

"You're supposed to be dead," you hummed, stepping closer. Your staff held you up now, and Anders' eyes flickered down to the wound in your side. He raised his hand and eyebrow simultaneously, asking permission. You gave it, and the wound stitched itself together quickly and quietly.

"You're supposed to be dead, Anders," you repeated when you could stand on your own again. "You and Justice."

"The both of us are alive, Warden-Commander." His tone was so formal that whatever words you had meant to say died in your throat. To see a friend alive and well after so many years, a friend with whom you had shared so much Warden trauma —

"Hey, Blondie," the dwarf called out. "You want to kiss and make up later? We don't really have the time."

Both of you blanched at his comment and stepped back from each other, him into the dark-haired warrior who hefted the greatsword back onto their back with ease, you into Alistair whose arm moved easily up to your lower back to keep you upright. You exchanged glances with Anders, just as Alistair and the warrior did the same.

"He's right, Anders." You found your voice. "It seems you're needed elsewhere."

He simply nodded, wringing his hands around his staff. He lingered a moment longer, and then turned to follow the dwarf and the two warriors into the night.

"Come on, love," Alistair murmured in your ear. "We should see if that ship can leave a little earlier than scheduled."

You followed him into the night.