#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]

[mllemaenad]

This, however, is raging idiocy. I can feel Seanna vibrating with rage in the back of my brain. I do not know if the Warden is still alive because Bioware didn't import anything about her, but if she is that is the absolute last straw.

The stunningly short Fifth Blight. The Architect and the Awakened darkspawn (Ohhhhhhh. We are never going to get any payoff on that plot, are we? I'm going to need a minute to mourn for that one. It was fascinating.)! The emergence of Corypheus and the false Calling! The suggestion that the Black City might have been like that for longer than the Chantry claims. Evidence of Blight in the extremely ancient Primeval Thaig. Red lyrium in general. And smaller things: the purification of a Blighted eluvian; Isseya's cleansing of griffon eggs, allowing the species to re-emerge ...

Everything about the Blight has changed in the last few years. It is completely reasonable for the First Warden to demand evidence. He bloody should demand evidence. But what he's doing is throwing a temper tantrum. Wardens do not have the luxury of temper tantrums.

[crownomancer]

*emerges from a massive art slump just to take a crack at a Davrin armor design*

Spoilers under cut.

As someone who enjoys historical military uniform design, I still disliked how little Davrin’s armor did not match the Dragon Age vibe if you chose to keep the griffons with the Wardens.

Still, I saw what they were going for and so I tried to redesign it to keep their vision and to match it more to Thedas. So I chose to keep an armored chest piece, but the traditional military tailcoat I altered to fit the classic Warden vibe, turning it instead into a studded gambeson. I opted for pauldrons instead of epaulets, and gave them a “feather” design to match the griffons. I kept the armor pretty light still because the design is clearly intended to be ceremonial, not functional, just like a military dress uniform. Still, I wanted it at least somewhat functional because you never fucking know when the Darkspawn are just going to pop up on you.

Anyway, this was just a quick draw before bed and I’m saving my Davrin base so I can keep doing armor draws for him.

[nose235678]

Finished my first play through with my Crow!Rook!

I’m devastated! My Lavellan’s happy ending broke my heart and the Lucanis romance is wonderful!

But am I gonna take a break? No, not for a second!

Warden Var’fen “Rook” Thorne reporting for duty!

Her parents left her clan during the Fifth Blight, after they fought with the other Dalish in Denerim and King Alistair refused to honor his promise of land to the Elves. Offering their skills to the Grey Wardens as trackers in the Anderfels where she’d discover her magic and live as an apostate. Training to be a healer with Warden Mages until they invited her to join them on a trip to the newly emerged Kal-Sharok and stumbled into a nest of Darkspawn.

Barely managing to clear them out, but not before Var’fen was blighted and subsequently took the Joining at the age of 23. Suffering a rare side effect of the ritual that turned the sclera of her eyes black. Meeting Varric shortly thereafter and at 24, using a fake last name since joining the Wardens, they would make their move against the Dread Wolf.

Doing whatever it took to stop his ritual…

Her likes include:

*Cioccolata calda ☕️ (never had chocolate until Varric bought her a cup and was addicted ever since)

*Dogs 🐶 (left mabari, Josa behind with her family when she left to hunt Solas)

*Rocks 🪨 💎 (picks up a pebble or crystal wherever she goes. Most are just cool looking lumps of granite)

*Giving gifts to friends 🎁 (gifts may or may not be pebbles that “remind her of them” and no, she will never explain what she means)

*Harts 🦌(her parents raise them for mounts to herd halla. Brought them along from Ferelden to the Anderfels when they moved)

*Smoking Elfroot 🍃(helps with period pain; bad before, but the Joining made it worse)

Her dislikes include:

*The Chantry ���️(only got her vallaslin to keep Templars from dragging her off to a Circle)

*Dracolisks 🦎(saw one lick its own eye like a gecko once and never recovered. Scarred for life)

*Cooked vegetables 🥦 (if it’s slimy? She will die before eating it, but likes salads, carrots and has been yelled at more than once for shuffling around the pantry/kitchen, eating a whole bell pepper/cucumber/tomato, like a rabbit)

*Taxes 💵(self-explanatory)

Who she’ll romance:

This dapper gentleman, whom she met once before while recruiting conscripts in Nevarra City. Bumping into him on her way out of the city dungeon while he was leaving the morgue after corpse-whispering to help solve a murder. Never exchanged a word, but she remembered his polite apology (the first she’d ever received from a Shem) for nearly knocking her over and he remembered her eyes.

[kreept12]

Thoughts about the dwarves in DATV

Warnings : Spoilers for Lace Harding's quests

I just finished Harding's quests for the second time, and although I really liked them, I can't shake the feeling that the quest and lore feel disconnected from what we know about dwarves in the Dragon Age universe.

I really appreciate that Harding has to come to terms with the pain and anger over what happened to the Titans. However, I wish they had emphasized how much the dwarves are still struggling because of what happened to the Titans.

The death of the Titans led to the birth of the dwarves (which I'm still not entirely sure how, by the way), and the dwarves built a vast underground empire that thrived long ago. It all fell apart due to the darkspawn, who emerged from the Blight. This division left only Orzammar and Kal-Sharok, with Kal-Sharok being a recent addition. Orzammar's strict caste system, as presented in Origins, only serves to divide them further, especially in their relationships with surface dwellers. In Origins, we also learn that dwarves have a low fertility rate, contributing to their population decline, which is exacerbated by the internal divisions. To make matters worse, they are constantly under attack by the darkspawn—not just during the Blights like the rest of Thedas, but every day, dwarves die in the Deep Roads to prevent the darkspawn from reaching their cities. The dwarves are slowly dying out, much like their ancestors, the Titans. And this is all because of the Blight that Solas caused. Yet, none of this is ever addressed.

The first time I played, I didn’t connect with Harding’s anger much; the Titans felt distant, more like a concept than a reality. We never had clear information about the Titans' connection with the dwarves, and I felt like their fate was treated as something ancient that was done and over with, like the elves moving on after the creation of the Veil. But it still has an impact. Harding, or even Dwarf Rook, can’t speak to the fear of knowing your ancestors were exterminated, treated with such cruelty, and completely forgotten—and the terror that it might happen to you too. That the cycle could repeat. What will be left of the dwarves once they are all gone? Will their art, their fallen empire, and their culture be exploited, just as the dwarves mined the Titans' corpses? Shouldn't this fear fuel the already strict and conservative views of some of the counselors in Orzammar? If Harding's knowledge is discovered, the consequences could be huge!

In my two playthroughs as a dwarf Grey Warden, I was kind of sad about how little we could discuss our shared lineage with Harding. The group discussion when you discover Solas' regret about the Titans is the closest you get to voicing your own anger. You can even express sadness that you were "fighting against my own dreams." But you can never talk about what being a dwarf feels like for Rook—whether you’re from Orzammar or a surface dwarf. I understand that the faction choice assigns you a premade backstory, but this doesn’t really apply to the Grey Warden, since all we know is that you trained at Weisshaupt, with no details about your life before joining the Wardens. Heck, we can't even choose the casteless tattoo in character creation.

Dragon Age has been starving dwarf enthusiasts since Origins, and although I'm glad we got all this ancient lore about the origins of the dwarves, I can't shake the feeling that something is missing. I was so excited the first time I played Harding’s quest and discovered Kal-Sharok (whose existence really surprised me, as I completely forgot about that side quest in Inquisition). It was fascinating to see how their culture diverged from Orzammar, but we only get glimpses. Hopefully, we'll get more current-day information about dwarven civilization in the next game (especially with what happened in the South during Veilguard).

[thewardenisonthecase]

Moments in Between - Chapter 3

Lucanis Dellamorte x Grey Warden!Rook

Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Summary: Rook has a nightmare and Lucanis has a funeral to arrange.

A/N: I didn't like this chapter that much but it needed to get done. I'm still figuring out where this story is going. Also MAJOR SPOILERS FOR DATV AT THE END (its about one of the big reveals in the third act)!!!

Another night, another nightmare.

She was amongst them, one more darkspawn in the middle of the hoard. Her thoughts were not her own, as she heard the sweet calling of the archdemon, beckoning them to keep digging. 

Just keep digging. Digging. Find it. Find the source of the song. 

Come to me. 

The sound of metal against stone echoed in her head, each time louder and louder until the earth exploded, as a pair of giant wings emerged and the intense roaring of the Archdemon shook everything around her. 

Rook woke up in a cold sweat, her heart hammering in her chest, her mouth dry. Standing on shaky legs, she didn’t know what to do. 

Ever since her Joining, she too had struggled with nightmares, but none that ever felt this…real. And none that featured an archdemon. 

She could feel her feet taking her somewhere, her body moved even if her mind didn’t command it to. She stopped, not knowing where she was until a voice spoke her name. 

“Rook, are you alright? You look pale.” She heard someone speak, her mind still trying to catch on. The voice was familiar, but the sound of her own ragged breath muffled the next sentences. 

Next thing she knew, calloused hands with a gentle touch led her to a chair, helping her sit down. A water cup was put in her hands. Slowly, and with help, she brought it to her lips and drank almost everything. 

Rook closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she opened them, she was met with a certain crow crouching in front of her, his eyes filled with concern. 

“Lucanis.” She whispered, as her mind cleared, looking around the room. “Hi.” She saw his face relax a bit after she spoke. 

“What happened?” He asked, softly. He covered her hands, the ones holding the water, with his own. “You’re shaking and you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She gave him a small chuckle that sounded more like a gasp. “I…I had a nightmare. A very, very, bad one.”

Lucanis nodded and stood up. He thought for a moment and then said “If you want, I can make you something to eat.” 

“I…thank you.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before saying “Can you make that chocolate drink? The one from the café.” 

He gave her a small smile. “Of course.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him get to work, as she slowly gathered her thoughts. She had never dreamt with an archdemon before, but she remembered the warden commander telling her about it. 

“It’s intense, terrifying.” She remembered hearing the commander talk. “The nightmares are bad on their own, but during a Blight they’re worse. And when you see the archdemon…I was lucky to have Alistair with me.” 

She didn’t know how much time had passed but the smell of hot chocolate filled her nostrils, as her empty water cup was replaced. 

“Thank you, Lucanis.” He nodded and began to walk away, into the pantry. “Can I…ask you for a favor?” She said, unsure. 

“What is it?”

“Could you keep me company? Just for a while.” 

He stood there, thinking and for a moment, she thought she had overstepped, until he grabbed his cup of coffee and sat on the chair opposite to hers. The two drank in silence, until Rook asked “Do you also have bad dreams?” 

“Sometimes, although lack of sleep prevents them. Do you have them often?” 

“All the time. It comes with being a warden.” 

His head tilted to the side. “I don’t understand.” 

She sighed. “I guess most people don’t.” Rook leaned back on her chair, as she thought of a way to explain it. “Because of our connection to the blight, we often have dreams with them - the darkspawn, the taint. And if you’re unlucky enough, you’ll dream with the archdemon.” 

“And I’m guessing that was the cause of your nightmare.”

Rook nodded. “I had never dreamed of one before. They’re not really supposed to happen unless a Blight is going on, and even then, I’d thought we’d have more time before…”

“Before, what?” 

“Before an archdemon was uncovered.” She took another drink before asking “Do you know how they came to be?” When Lucanis shook his head, she explained “The darkspawn, they’re always digging, looking for the Old Gods trapped beneath the earth. They call them constantly until they get them out. The Old God is then corrupted by the taint and becomes the Archdemon. It’s how we know it's a true blight, if an archdemon is spotted, and usually, our dreams are the first indications we have.” 

“So what you’re saying is that our situation is worse than what it was?” 

“Exactly.” Rook rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know if there’s any connection between the Old Gods and the Evanuris but if they are controlling the blight and got a hold of one of these archdemons…I don’t even want to think of the chaos that would be.” 

“It is something to consider. Have you contacted the rest of your order yet?” 

“We, uhm…aren’t on the best of terms right now. But maybe Harding and I can come up with something.” She finished her drink by putting it on the table. “Thank you, Lucanis.” 

“Of course.” He smirked. “But you’ll be owing me a favor.” 

“I told you we would all be owing each other.”

She smiled one last time and made the lonely journey back to her room. There was another problem hanging in the back of her mind. 

If there truly was an archdemon and if this was truly a blight…then her end was nearer than she’d expected. 

. 

It did not take long for Lucanis to reclaim that favor, as the very next day, a letter from Teia arrived.

The walk to the Cantori Diamond had been silent, but Lucanis was glad. Since Teia had told him about the funeral, he hadn’t been in the most talkative mood.  

Still, he had asked Rook to come along, in case Spite got out of hand. 

But also…he needed someone that wasn’t so involved, so familiar to be there. 

Once they arrived at the casino, Teia and Viago greeted them. 

“Good, you’re here.” The Seventh Talon said. 

“Thank you for making the arrangements, Teia.” 

“For Caterina…how could I do otherwise. I’m so sorry, Lucanis, this must be such a blow.” She turned to Rook. “Thank you for coming with him. I need one Dellamorte to plan this. His cousin has been no help at all.”

“I’m sorry, Teia.” Illario said mournfully. “This is just…too much right now.” 

Besides him, Rook took a deep breath and said “If there’s anything I can do to help, just say the word.” 

That was the other reason why he had asked her to come along. After a year surrounded by Venatori, having someone so…nice around was a breath of fresh air. 

“You’re such a dear.” Teia smiled. “I hope these two are paying attention.” 

Lucanis noticed the familiar, charming tone Teia used when talking to Rook, and he shifted the weight from his feet, slightly uncomfortable at the notion. “Teia, don’t flirt with my…” he stopped himself. 

What were they? Teammates? Friends? 

“Colleague.” Was the word he settled on, hoping the others did not notice his hesitation.

“Jealous? Fine, to business, then.” Teia said. “There’s a lot to plan, but first, I need the ashes.” 

“Ashes?” Illario asked, causing Lucanis to frown. His cousin seemed too surprised, though he couldn’t blame him. With how fast things had been…

“Maker help us, yes, the ashes! Caterina’s ashes. From the cremation?”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. I’ll get them to you right away.” His cousin said. 

In Lucanis’s mind, he had tried to think of every scenario about how this all came to be but there was still too much confusion. Before Illario left, she asked “Illario…what happened?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Caterina. How..? How did the Venatori get to her? When? Where? In the estate? In the city?” He bombarded his cousin with questions. “How did they get past our people? What did they use? Poison? Blades? I need to know.” 

He needed to be prepared. They would come for him too - if he did not find them first. 

But it was still strange. How could the First Talon had fallen so easily?

“Cousin, stop. You can’t dwell on this. It’ll drive you mad.” 

“I am not dwelling. Zara killed the First Talon. I have to know how, if I’m going to stop her.” 

“I told you. I’m handling it.” 

Illario and his stubbornness. If he continued like this, he’d get himself killed and Lucanis…he would be the only one left. 

He couldn’t stand the thought. 

“Boys! Enough. We have other things to discuss.” Teia intervened. 

“My apologies, Andarateia. Continue without me. I’ll…get you the ashes.” His cousin said and left. 

Lucanis sighed. He was still as confused as before and Illario seemed to refuse to cooperate. He turned his head, seeing a frown on Rook’s face. 

“Something’s wrong with him. I don’t know what.” 

“When he’s not on the job, my cousin always has his head on the clouds.” 

“Still…”

“Illario can be a handful, but this…The only time I’ve seen him like this was when Lucanis died.” Teia looked at him. “You’re worrying, aren’t you? What will people say when they discover that “the Demon of Vyrantium” has a big, soft heart?” 

Lucanis huffed and ignored what she said, opting to focus on Illario. “He’s been careless at times, but never when his own life was on the line. Zara took down the First Talon. Anyone could be next. And my cousin doesn’t want to think about it.” 

Teia stopped to think and replied “You have a point. It’s not like him to ignore a knife coming in his direction.” 

The three stayed there, in silence. Rook was right - there was something wrong with his cousin, but he couldn’t tell. He sighed, mentally, not sure of what to do. 

Lucanis shook his head. He had come here for a reason, and that reason was not worrying about Illario. “What do you need from me for the funeral?” 

“Come. I’ll get us drinks, and we can make arrangements.” Teia led them further inside the casino. 

They didn’t take long. Mostly, they asked what flowers they should use and where to place them, which people could be invited to the wake, if they should bring a Mother. 

All sorts of things that made Lucanis wonder how it must have been like for his family when they thought he was dead. If they had done all of this. 

The only time I’ve seen him like this was when Lucanis died.

And now he might as well be the reason why his cousin would get himself killed.

Before they left, Lucanis spoke with Teia. “Our house owes you for handling all this.” 

“Caterina was family. Can you imagine what she'd say if she saw us all like this?”  

His face lightened. “She’d be furious. Especially at Illario. As usual.”

Rook, who had stayed mostly quiet until now, spoke “How did you manage to stay on her good side?” 

Lucanis laughed. “What good side?” 

“To hear Caterina tell it, Lucanis can do no wrong.” Teia added.

“It’s easy to look good standing next to my cousin.” 

Rook smirked. “You’re not so bad, give yourself some credit.” 

Lucanis looked away, remembering the previous night. He then saw Teia’s eyes narrow, a small rise in one of her brows, before he cleared his throat. 

Teia straightened her face and said “I’ll have my people keep an eye on him for you.” 

“Thank you, Teia.” 

“Go on. I’ll let you know if something comes up.” 

They said their goodbyes and left. 

They were in the middle of the Crossroads, getting close to the Lighthouse eluvian when Rook stopped and asked “Are you ok?” 

Lucanis blinked, confused. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean…I don’t know what if feels like, but losing your grandma must be hard, right? I just wanted to check in.” 

“If you’re wondering if I can still do my job-”

“It’s not about that.” She shook her head. “I’m asking as a friend. I mean, I hope we are friends, but I just…” She sighed “Varric recently told me that it’s important to check in on your friends, especially when you’re on a mission as big as killing elven gods. So…that’s what I’m doing.” 

Lucanis stood still. He wasn’t used to this sort of caring, much less from someone he knew for such a short period of time, but he could see that Rook was genuine. 

“I-thank you, Rook. I will be fine.” He said, hoping. “And yes…I think we can be friends.” 

“Good.” She nodded and they kept on walking to the Lighthouse. 

But a sudden question formed on the back of Lucanis’s head. 

If Varric was dead, how had Rook talked to him?

[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.

[dicethrow]

@deathswcrn | liked for a starter

Desperate to understand what the Blight was doing to him—why it whispered to him, why it pulled him in a direction he couldn’t comprehend—Gale finally gave in and followed the lure. The path led him to the Hossberg Wetlands. From his readings, it was meant to be a fertile place, teeming with crops and wildflowers. Yet all he found was waterlogged soil and the decaying remains of what had once been farmland.

He kicked a pebble, watching it bounce across the ruined earth before splashing into a murky puddle. Just then, the clash of metal on stone pierced the still air, followed by the unmistakable screech of darkspawn.

Gale knew he shouldn’t play the hero. But this was farmland—logic dictated there might be some poor farmer caught up in the chaos. Without hesitation, he crested the hill, only to see a well-armed woman cutting down darkspawn after darkspawn. Yet they kept coming, crawling from a foul, blighted sac that seeped corruption into the earth.

Without thinking, he ran to her aid. Flexing his fingers to loosen them, he summoned a bolt of fire and hurled it toward the sac. It burst with a sickening squelch, splattering filth in all directions. No more darkspawn emerged, but the ones already present turned their attention to him. One lunged, and Gale’s hand shot out reflexively. Flames consumed the creature mid-leap, and he stumbled back, catching his breath.

"Friends of yours?" he quipped, drawing a small, straight sword. A flickering orb of fire hovered in his off-hand, ready to strike.

[headachecat]

The Hours Found – Chapter IV

——— An anthology of hours in Lucanis and Rook’s relationship unseen in the game, but very much needed.

—

Timing: After 'Isle Of Gods' quest.

She wasn’t there.

One moment, he’d been looking at her – her eyes filled with tears, her lips curved in a painful smile as she sank to her knees, the dagger clutched tightly in her hand. He tore his gaze from her for only a second, just long enough to take in Ghilan'nain’s contorted, lifeless body and to survey the battlefield, making sure it was finally over. Just to be certain. But then he heard it – a voice cutting through the stillness, the familiar Nevarran lilt wrapped around his name as Rook screamed for him. When he looked back, she was gone. Lucanis ran to where she’d been just a heartbeat before, his eyes scanning the blood-stained ground, his hands reaching out desperately as if he could somehow find her. Confusion blurred his vision, disbelief clawing at his thoughts as he searched for some sign, some trace. The sound of Taash’s battle axe striking stone rang out nearby, the metallic echo slicing into his mind and blending with his thoughts until they spiralled into a cacophony of panic.

‘Lace!’ they roared, their voice edged with fear. Lucanis felt it too, a shared dread, the sense of something precious slipping away beyond reach. Around them, the sounds of battle had begun to fade; he could hear the distant footsteps of his companions drawing near.  An eerie, hollow peace settled over them, heavy and stifling, pressing down on his shoulders like a weight he couldn’t bear.

‘I’m here!’ he heard Harding’s exhausted voice behind him. Lucanis barely registered her words as he scrambled, still reeling, but then she emerged, struggling to free herself from underneath the thick, blighted veins draped over the ground. He looked over his shoulder, noticing her standing by the corpse of the fallen goddess, her eyes drawn to something half-hidden in the twisted tendrils by her feet. Reaching down, she lifted it with a gasp, her voice breaking. ‘Rook–‘

He spun around to face her fully, and his eyes dropped to her hands. There, clasped between her fingers, gleamed the unmistakable deep emerald green of Rook’s blade. He had just given it to her days prior, and she loved it so, carrying it everywhere by her side. His heart sank. He failed. He promised to kill the gods to protect her, and yet here he was, standing alone, with nothing but her weapon left in her place. It almost felt like that day in Treviso, when he first bought it. Just a thought instead of her presence. Spite stirred within him in anger, a surge of rage he could barely contain. Lucanis looked around, catching Taash’s expression, a mix of relief and concern easing the tension in their face as their heavy breaths began to slow. It was suddenly so empty around them. There were no darkspawn left to kill, no wounded allies left to tend to. Just silence. He watched as the rest of their companions pushed through the dense, dark tendrils blocking the entrance, emerging one by one, weary and battered, but alive.

He took in the sight of them – the few who remained. Neve’s once-white robes were charred and singed from the fire attacks she’d endured, the edges smudged with ash. Emmrich’s gaze swept over the scene, his usual lightheartedness replaced by a rare and quiet sorrow. Harding stood silently, her head bowed, her shoulders heavy with regret, as Taash knelt beside her. They met his gaze with a look of quiet understanding. They appeared to walked through the Void itself, their exhausted eyes searching the desolate ground around them. But there was nothing left to find anymore. There was no more Bellara, no more Davrin, no more Ghilan’nain, and no more Rook. Just the unimaginable loss, heavy and final, settling around them like the sea after a storm.

Neve approached Lucanis, pulling off her headpiece in a gesture of respect as she stepped closer. ‘What happened here?’ she asked gently, her voice kind but probing, trying to draw him back to the present. When he didn’t respond, his gaze still lost in the distance, she pressed again further. ‘Lucanis, I need you to focus. What happened? Where is Davrin? Where’s Rook?’

Over her shoulder, Emmrich’s green magic flickered faintly in the distance. The mage examined the scene with a practiced eye, a low hum of understanding escaping his throat as he finally spoke. ‘The Veil is exceptionally thin here,’ he murmured, ‘I presume that would be because of the lyrium dagger, but it is warped in a rather peculiar way.’ His fingers twitched, and the faint swirls of magical energy shimmered back to his hands. 

Neve’s brow furrowed as she turned her attention to Ghilan’nain’s body, observing it from a safe distance. Her gaze swept across each of her companions in turn, her straightened posture reinforcing her focus.

‘Who’s got the dagger?’ she asked, her voice tight as her finger pointed toward the corpse’s chest. Lucanis barely had time to process her words before a chill wind swept through, biting against his skin. The air thickened with a strange, electric charge that seemed to pulse around them. A familiar itch appearing behind his eyes, making him pull back, his hand instinctively reaching for Neve’s arm, pulling her back with him. Spite materialised beside him, his dark wings open, feathers stretched wide.

‘Fen’Harel,’ the demon hissed, his voice tense as he bent his knees, leaning forward like a protective mabari. The Veil in front of them began to ripple, shifting as if stirred by an unseen force. Cyan sparks crackled and danced, splitting the air in jagged lines that quickly widened into a rapidly growing scar. Harding’s eyes widened, as she glimpsed at them from the other side of the tear. Her hand stretched out towards Lucanis in a silent offering. The Crow reached down to the dagger strapped to his belt, his fingers spinning it instinctively as he steadied his stance. ‘Keep cool, Lucanis,’ Neve warned, edged with caution. The hum of the Fade slipped through the glowing rift. The air filled with an otherworldly resonance that seemed to drown out all else. As the light flared, a figure materialised within, standing tall and composed, a glowing, ornate dagger in hand. The blinding glow soon faded, and the man standing before them turned to seal the rift behind him with a graceful, almost effortless motion. Lucanis heard a deep breath, a hint of relief leaking through it. He took in the figure – a tall elf with an unmistakable presence, eyes sharp and knowing, expression cold and calculated. He soon locked eyes with the Dread Wolf himself. A rush of anger ran down his neck, propelling his hands to tighten the grip on his weapon. Harding, still stunned by the sight, took a slow step forward, her gaze fixed on Solas. She glanced at Lucanis, as if trying to predict his next move, before gathering her strength.

‘Solas!’ Harding’s voice rang out, easing the rising tension, drawing the elf’s attention away from Lucanis. Solas’s gaze softened as he registered her voice, turning to face her properly.

‘Scout Harding,’ he exhaled. His hands lowered slightly, though his grip on the dagger remained firm, fingers curling tighter around the golden handle ‘It has been a while.’

Lucanis observed Solas with intense focus, his eyes tracking every movement as the elf subtly  manoeuvred further away from the group, positioning himself strategically to the side. The Crow understood the instinct – the elf wanted to see all of them, with no backs turned to any possible threat.  Despite the calm, controlled exterior he maintained, a flicker of unease peaked through.

‘Where’s Rook?’ Harding’s voice resonated again, filled with pain, anger, and everything in-between. ’What did you do?’

Solas lowered his gaze, his eyes half-shut as he carefully weighed his words. The silence stretched between them like a fragile thread. When he finally looked up again, his expression had hardened, a silent determination settling over his features. ‘Your leader is alive. We have merely exchanged places. The prison I built would not accept anyone but her in my place. It had to be done. You must understand, no mortal can win this war. It is my burden to bear.”

Harding’s breath hitched, her face contorting with disbelief as his words sank in. A burst of anger erupted from her, the fury she’d been holding back for so long now spilling out. ‘You tricked us! Again!’ she yelled, her voice cracking with the force of her emotions. Her eyes shimmered with tears, but she fought to hold them back, her hands trembling at her sides. ‘I thought you a friend and you keep betraying my trust over and over again. Rook’s trust’ she took a sharp breath, her chest rising and falling intently. ‘She understood your nature, your pride! She thought you could be reasoned with, given enough time. She defended you,’ Harding paused, before spitting out the last words as if it burned her to even think them up. ’Just like Inquisitor did.’  

Solas closed his eyes, his gaze drifting away from Harding, as if her words had physically struck him. There was a fleeting moment – an echo of something lost – that passed across his features before he masked it with indifference. Neve cleared her throat. She took a step closer, her movements deliberate, as if she was approaching a wild animal that could strike at any moment. Her hands reached out, palms open, gaze fixed. ‘You’re remembered as the god of lies, deception, and trickery. Is that what you always were, or is that what Mythal made you?’ her question hung in the air, heavy with the layers of history that neither of them could escape. Neve’s eyes flickered for a brief moment, as she recalled the shattered soul of a goddess they left at the Lighthouse. They hadn’t thought it would matter at the time, not with Fen’Harel seemingly trapped in the Fade for what they believed would be eternity. How wrong they were. Taash scoffed, their eyes narrowing with disdain as they knelt to retrieve their axe.

‘If the shoe fits,’ they muttered, spitting onto the ground. Neve disregarded that comment, taking another step towards Solas. Lucanis stood silently, his body tense, his hand clenched on a blade. His emotions hit with the force of ocean waves, crashing against his mind, ready to tear down his boundaries, to uproot his values, to break everything he thought he was before.

‘You were torn from the Fade against your will. You were forced to fight an endless war. You can amend your wrongs. You can change who they think you are’ Neve continued, her words challenging. Solas looked at her discreetly, the movement subtle but noticeable. He seemed to measure her every step, and mirrored her actions, stepping back in response. It was a delicate dance between them.

‘I intend to,’ he replied, his voice certain and loud. ‘We shall take down Elgar’nan under my command. I know his mind, his goals, his motivations. I have fought it before for centuries, and I shall win again,’ he paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the group, his next words carrying a heavy finality. ‘I ask that you follow me, and complete your quest.’

‘I’d take a Fereldan rat as a leader over you anytime,’ Taash sneered again, their voice dripping with disdain as they stepped forward, the great axe swaying by their side, ready for a fight. Solas raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, retaining a calm expression, seemingly indifferent, despite the clear provocation. He tilted his chin up, perceiving the Qunari quietly. ‘Rook did not have what it takes to defeat the ancient gods,’ Solas said, his voice cold and devoid of any emotion as he continued. ‘She even failed to stop me. She would have led you to certain death.’ The words hit like a sharp blade, and Lucanis, who had been trapped in his thoughts, suddenly snapped out of his stupor. The elf’s casual use of the past tense caught him off guard. It felt like a finality, as if Rook was already lost to them, her existence now reduced to nothing more than a failed attempt in Solas’ eyes. Spite surged within Lucanis, wild and uncontrollable, an undercurrent of rage breaking through. The resentment, the grief, the raw hatred that had been bubbling just beneath the surface now exploded in a rush, flooding his thoughts. ‘I will not make that mistake,” Solas spoke again. ‘This is Rook’s failure. Rook’s regret. The prison took her, as it is of her own making. Do not get that wrong.’ ‘Mierda. I will kill you for this!’ Lucanis shouted, fury roaring through him. His dagger flashed in the faint light as he hurled himself forward, every muscle in his body coiling with the need for vengeance. Spite’s wings erupted from his back with a deafening snap, propelling him into a wild, unrestrained flight. The distance between him and Solas shrank in mere seconds. But the elf was quick. With a swift movement, Solas dodged to the side, raising his hand. The ground beneath them seemed to stir, as dormant tendrils shot up like serpents from the earth, coiling around Lucanis’ arms with unrelenting force. They tightened with a bone-crushing grip, throwing him to the ground. Lucanis hit the stone with a thud, his breath knocked from his lungs. His wrists and ankles were ensnared in the hold, leaving him immobile, unable to fight back. A strained groan escaped him as he struggled, but the tendrils only tightened further, their grip like iron shackles. Spite’s wings lashed out in desperation, cutting through the moist, blighted air with vicious strokes, unable to break free. Solas approached slowly. His gaze was focused, studying Lucanis with curiosity. The elf’s eyes glimmered with an unsettling soft glow, as he let out a knowing hum. Lucanis felt a sudden, gut-wrenching pull, an invisible force drawing Spite from his body. ‘The assassin with a spirit of Spite in his mind. I have heard about you,’ Solas said with certainty. His eyes were fixed not on Lucanis, but on the demon himself, as though he could see Spite as clear as day. The sensation was unbearable, wrong. It was as if someone was trying to peel away the very layers of his soul. ‘The magic that binds you is most regrettable. I could be of help.’

‘Fuck you,’ Spite hissed at Solas, just as he got pulled back all of a sudden, disappearing within his host’s mind.

Lucanis felt a strange, subtle shift in the tension that had been constricting his limbs. The tendrils loosened just enough to give him a brief sense of freedom, a small opening. It was a fleeting relief, but it didn’t last long. Solas’s eyes flickered, and the light illuminating them had faded, as he regarded Lucanis now.

'I could feel Rook’s love for you,’ Solas continued, his voice dropping to a quieter, more personal tone. Despite the others standing behind him, their presence seemingly insignificant now, he spoke as if the weight of his words was meant only for Lucanis. His gaze searched Lucanis’s face, as if trying to read something unsaid, something buried deep within. ‘I can see your bond in your actions. I expected no less.’ The silence hung between them for a moment, as the words seemed to settle. Solas’ expression was unreadable, but there was a softness to his voice when he spoke again. ‘I know you will grant me no forgiveness for what I have done to the one you love. I would not have given it myself in your place. But do know this: I know your pain. I would not have wished it on my worst enemy, and yet I do not consider you one.’ There was a brief hesitation, a small, almost imperceptible shift in Solas' demeanour. It was as though he was gathering the courage to reveal something he had kept hidden so deep within, it was unreachable at this point. He stepped closer to Lucanis with a pained expression. The Crow held up the intense eye contact between them, twisting his head upwards.

‘You should know,’ Solas murmured, his voice laden with sorrow, ‘in her mind, she called you vhenan. It is a great honour. I apologise for being the force that tore you apart.’

Lucanis’ brows furrowed, his heart pounding in his chest as he wrestled with the words Solas offered to him. Vhenan. He had heard the term before, but its true meaning escaped him, its weight unclear in the moment. Solas’ expression appeared so genuine, the sadness in his voice undeniable, but it only served to deepen the confusion Lucanis found himself in. There was something in the elf's words that stirred a longing within him – to  reach out, to understand. But there was a fine line between empathy and pity, and he couldn’t shake off the feeling of hatred guiding his thoughts. His voice left his throat jagged, sharp, and threatening. 'You don’t get share my grief. She promised she’ll be back. She always is.’ Solas let out a saddened sigh of amusement, his eyes lingering on Lucanis for a moment longer before he spoke. ‘There is no way out of the prison,’ he said bitterly. ‘I was not able to leave it without blood magic myself. It is guarded by your regrets, your thoughts, your mistakes. It warps one’s mind, subdues them, enslaves them. Whatever it takes to keep you within.’ 

Lucanis shook his head. ‘She’s better than you. She understands that regrets are a part of us,’ he said, his voice steady, though tinged with sorrow. ‘But they do not hold power over us. They don’t get to decide our future.’ his words were sharp, each one spoken with the weight of experience, of years spent fighting against the chains of his own guilt. Solas turned away slowly. There was something about the way his shoulders tensed that made it clear he was done explaining himself, as though the conversation had already concluded in his mind. He began to move faster, his footsteps purposeful, as he searched to make an exit. ‘You may not believe me when I say it. But I truly wish you were right,’ he said, his hand brushing the hilt of the lyrium dagger at his belt. With a swift, practiced motion, he drew it and opened another rift, the edges glowing with a spiritual light. He paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder at the group, his expression unreadable. ‘I understand you do not wish to listen to me now. But I will gladly accept your help once you offer it in the future.’ 

Just as he said the last word, he air was pierced by a war cry, sharp and full of fury. Taash was already in motion, their massive form lunging forward as they swung their great axe with the force of a tempest. The weapon flew through the air, its edge gleaming in the dim light, aimed directly at Solas. The rift flickered, shimmering as the elf began to disappear into it. The axe found its mark just a split second too late. The weapon tore the atmosphere, its momentum sending it spiralling toward the retreating figure, as he was already vanishing into the portal, the rift closing behind him with a soft, almost unnoticeable hum.

‘Vashedan,’ Taash cursed, the word heavy with disgust, their chest sinking as they exhaled a deep sigh of frustration. The portal shimmered and vanished, leaving nothing but the echo of the missed blow. The great axe hammered itself into a wooden beam just a couple feet in front of Lucanis. The sharp, metallic zing of the impact echoed among the stone walls. The tendrils lost their hold, dropping limp onto the ground like discarded vines.

Emmrich appeared at Lucanis’ side almost instantly, his hands moving gently over his arms, checking the tender, scratched skin where the blight had him bound.The mage shook his head with a disapproving murmur under his breath, as he made sure no further wounds were inflicted. His touch was precise, almost clinical, yet there was a kindness to it that set Lucanis at ease.

‘Thank you, professor,’ Lucanis said softly, turning his face toward him. Emmrich smiled, the expression reassuring despite exhaustion settling into his features. The rest of their companions gradually made their way to them, settling on the surrounding steps. Harding placed herself next to Lucanis, Rook’s emerald blade cradled tenderly against her chest as though it might slip away and disappear. The faint gleam of the weapon’s edge seemed dimmer now, as if reflecting their shared pain. 

Neve let out a long, weary sigh, resting her elbows on her knees and staring vacantly ahead at nothing in particular. Her fingers absently traced the worn fabric of her gloves, the motion almost meditative, calming, constant. Taash grunted with effort as they pulled their axe free from the wood, the weapon now resting heavily in their arms. The companions shared a long silence together, the events of the terrible day finally catching up to their consciousness. It sank into their bones, pinning their bodies to the cold ground as though they might never rise again. They were victorious, and yet it felt like failure.

‘So, what’s next?’ Taash knelt down, their axe resting at their side, a look of determination appearing in their expression like a shield against the creeping despair. Harding took a deep, steadying breath before turning her gaze to Lucanis. He met her eyes, and for a moment, his heart clenched. The usual twinkle, that spark of unyielding hope she always carried, was gone – or at least dimmed. Maker, he prayed it wasn’t gone for good. ‘We survive,’ Harding said at last, her voice firm, her tone more command than suggestion. She nodded slightly, as if solidifying her own resolve, her fingers tracing the handle of the dagger in her grasp. Slowly, deliberately, she spun it around and laid it out, offering it to Lucanis. ‘Today, we mourn our dead. We pay our respects,’ she continued, her voice softening. ‘But we don’t give up on the ones we lost. We’ll find them. Whatever it takes.’

Her words bound them together like a vow. Lucanis reached out, his fingers brushing against the blade. The lyrium veins shimmered faintly at his touch, sparking softly and sending a familiar tingle through his fingertips. He smiled, a quiet, bittersweet expression that betrayed more pain than he wished to show. As he gazed down at the weapons, memories of Rook filled his mind, unbidden and vivid. He could almost hear her laughter, sharp and bright like the edge of her weapon. The ache in his chest deepened, and he clenched the hilt of her dagger as though holding it might somehow bring her back. She had been a constant – a force of nature, a ray of sunshine he could anchor himself to when his mind betrayed him. 

He remembered seeing her in his thoughts, a vision etched into his memory as vividly as if it had happened moments ago. She had come for him when he’d been lost, trapped in a prison of despair and self-doubt. In his mind, she appeared as though she were a spirit of light, ascending into the darkness that surrounded him. Her features were illuminated by a soft glow, her hair floating weightlessly as if she were underwater, the locks brushing gently against her cheek in a way that drove him insane. Her voice carried itself calmly across the void, soothing the chaos within him. Every word was deliberate, each one wrapping around his fears and regrets like a protective barrier.

‘You start small. Figure out a goal you can agree on, then make it happen,’ she said, her tone filled with love. As she reached out to touch his hand, he had hesitated for a moment before grasping it, holding it gently as though it might break under his fingers. He remembered the texture of her skin, the way his thumb had traced her palm as if trying to memorise a path he would follow for the years to come. That was the first time he felt his heart stir. He could not imagine going on without the comfort of her presence. Her touch felt like a tether to hope, her words a balm for wounds he hadn’t even known were there. Her eyes – always full of light and joy – had become a beacon in the darkness. He would kill the gods to keep her close. Losing Rook wasn’t an option. Not for him. Not ever.

Without hesitation, he reached behind Harding, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a gentle hug. She stiffened at first, but then melted away, her body leaning into his. He closed his eyes, his chin resting lightly against her head as he felt her start to tremble. The first sob was barely audible, but soon her quiet cries broke the stillness. Her pain, so carefully hidden moments ago, now washed over her like a high tide, and he held her tighter. The battlefield around them lay cold, quiet, and dead, except for the occasional whisper of the wind threading through the scene. The stone walls that had once stood tall in the ancient times were now draped with the mutilated remains of the fallen darkspawn. Corpses hung grotesquely from the cut up tendrils, their bodies twisted in unnatural shapes, victims of the blighted horrors that had surged upon them. The stillness was deafening, broken only by the occasional creak of rotten wood or the faint drip of blood.

Ghilan’nain’s body lay at the centre. Her twisted form became unsettling monument to the battle’s grim conclusion. She was no longer a goddess, no longer the myth of legends – merely a broken shell. Her death felt like a promise of a resolution. Emmrich moved closer to his friends, his presence calm and steady. He placed his hands gently on their shoulders, a gesture of quiet support and empathy. No words passed between them; none were needed. 

The silence they shared was overwhelming, yet comforting. And so they stayed, entwined in shared sorrow, the carnage around them both an ending and a beginning, a reminder of what they had survived and a prophecy of what they still had to face.

[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]

[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?”

[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.