#fun fact the warden runs faster each time he hears you

[atomiccryptid]

█████'s Fun Guide to Surviving the Warden!

-1- Do not try to summon the Warden. If you make a noise brazenly, as a dare or to prove your merit and bravery, you will not live long. There is a thick line between a hero and a fool and intentionally stepping loudly into the Warden's territory is pushing you far past the blur.

-2- Try not to panic. The blindness is startling, but will pass. However, do not let your knowledge of the Warden lead you to be too careless. Yes, the Warden may be blind and navigate mostly by ear. But he can also smell you.

-3- Navigate while the blindness ebbs. While you cannot see, walk safely in one direction. While you can see, look around you for possible branches in your path. You are at the mercy of the Warden's heartbeat. If you can get away from the Warden, the blindess will fade.

-4- If you are in the wool-floored halls, run. Run away as fast as you can. You do not want the Warden to catch your scent. If you are on loud ground, back away slowly and carefully. Try to find a quiet floor. Once you find a path where you will not be heard, run. Stay away from skulk. You will not survive a fight with one Warden and you surely do not want him to know exactly where you are.

-5- Do not, under any circumstances, try to throw a snowball as a distraction. Yes, it makes a noise when it hits the ground. It also makes a noise as it leaves your hand, giving the Warden a straight shot to you. As long as he is calm, you can crouch away from him. If he is angry, you may not be able to outrun him.

-6- If you happen to experience the Warden running at you and you do not have a woolen pathway to run down, I suggest picking your gods to pray to wisely. The Warden has not been known to let those he is hunting leave.

-7- Remember to stay calm. Screaming is the worst possible thing you can do in this situation. Running carelessly is a close second. I wish you the best and remember. Respecting the Warden is the only way you will survive.

[true-blue-megamind]

FAN THEORY THURSDAY – Why Did Metroman Retire?

Happy Almost-Friday, everyone! And even though Minion threatens to smother everything he cooks in old Limburger cheese each time I say it: SPOILER WARNING!

Yes, I know, it’s three a.m. and it’s technically Friday, but I’m still calling this Thursday night, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Okay, let’s be honest, Metroman is a character who seems, on the surface, to require little explanation in the film Megamind. He’s only present in the beginning and end, and we spend half the movie believing he’s dead, and we learn that Metroman has done something almost unheard of among superheroes: he’s chosen to retire. The question is: why? There is a tendency to think that he's simply a spoiled rich boy who, (in his social life, at least,) does what he wants without regard for others, but is that really fair? Or could there be other possible reasons? Well, let’s take a look at a few fan theories that may explain why he chose to abandon heroism for a music career.

Metroman Didn’t Want to Be a Hero

Although he’s clearly based on—and perhaps even poking a little fun at—the Man of Steel, Metroman was no Superman. (I mean, okay, he was technically a super-man, since he had strength, speed, and powers far beyond what a human would possess.) Except, here’s the thing: he’s not a carbon copy of the Man of Steel; Metroman and Superman have completely different lives and personalities. This remains true despite the fact that they share a similar origin—that of being aliens from a dead planet—and identical powers—including laser-vision and flight. Even their code names are comparable. However, if we look deeper, it becomes obvious that Metroman and Superman are two very different characters.

Superman is all about being an upstanding hero. Although he can be annoyingly persnickety, and sometimes displays nearly oppressively unyielding strictures about right and wrong, one thing you can say about the Man of Steel is that he’s generally integral. He is exactly what his public image portrays him to be: a Good Guy through and through. The same isn’t true of Metroman, and in some ways that makes him a more complex and interesting character.

The childhoods of the two heroes are extremely different. As I’ve mentioned in Why Was Megamind Raised in Prison, when a boy, Metroman was a bully, not only making young Megamind an outsider and the object of everything from teasing to physical attacks, but also inspiring other students to do the same. Superman, on the other hand, far from being a bully was bullied by Pete Ross. Rather than using his powers against others, he was too responsible and good-hearted to use them even against Pete Ross. Metroman is adopted by super-wealthy parents, and is essentially a trust-fund baby, while Superman was adopted by a farm family. He grows up with a good work ethic and hometown values. Indeed, this economic discrepancy continues into adulthood. As far as we can tell, Metroman doesn’t need to work and has no job outside being a superhero. Superman, conversely, has to earn a living as a journalist. Finally, in the majority of comics, Superman avoids most public appearances, unless he feels they serve some beneficial social purpose. Indeed, he goes to great lengths to keep his identity a secret and avoid the public eye as much as possible. The first time we see Metroman in the film, however, he is basking in a crowd’s adoration at the dedication of a museum in his honor. Indeed, in the original script, then called Mastermind, Metroman’s real identity seems to be widely known. (In case you’re wondering, this is where the name Wayne Smith, commonly used in the fandom, originates from.) So, we see that these character are actually very different: one is a hero strictly for the greater good, and the other, while he certainly does a lot of good things, is also in it for the fame.

This may seem like I’m being harsh toward poor Wayne Smith, but his flaws do not, in fact, make him a bad person. The issue is that we’re comparing him to Superman who, while still certainly imperfect, is intended to be a better-than-average person in every way, including moral. Make no mistake, Metro City’s former hero isn’t any sort of villain; what he is is normal. If we’re honest, most of us would be pleased by wide-spread accolades and honors. He reacts to positive fame the same way nearly anyone would because, at his heart, he’s really just a typical guy. That is the material point: Wayne Smith really only wants to be an average citizen—a music star, perhaps, but still a relatively ordinary person. In that way, he and Megamind are alike: they both desire, more than nearly anything else, to be normal. The key difference is that Megamind’s sincere and driving concern for his city also makes him ideal for becoming a hero. (You can learn more about this particular fan theory in The Warden and in Megamind and Identity.)

So, why did Wayne Smith become a Defender in the first place, then? Again, I’ve briefly touched on this in previous posts, but it appears likely that Metroman was pushed into heroism just as much as Megamind was pushed into supervillainy. Because he was a bully with superpowers, it’s likely that adults around him realized something had to be done about Wayne. Otherwise he was a danger. So, they constructed an environment—the Li’l Gifted School—where he could be conditioned to seek the praise of others as well as to fight Megamind, who had been singled out as his future nemesis. (In fact, that conditioning is probably why he opted for a career that would put him on stage, aside from a probable love of music.)

Because the path chosen for Megamind involved more hardships and pain, it’s easy to forget that Metroman was in essentially the exact same plight. However, the fact remains that these were both children, and they were both being coerced into perceived destinies they didn’t want. Neither of them were given a choice and, in the end, both of them cast off the expectations pressed upon them to become the people they really wanted to be. The difference is that, because of our natural biases, Megamind’s rise to Defender of Metro City seems more noteworthy than Metroman’s step into Mr. Average Joe. The truth, however, is that both characters were basically doing the same thing: being true to themselves.

Metroman May Have Had Health Concerns

We know Megamind and Metroman are close to the same age—although the latter appears to be about a year rather than days old when he lands on Earth—but what that age is is open to supposition. We know, however, that they are almost certainly in their thirties, probably in their mid- to late-thirties. (Take a look at How Old is Megamind for more information about that.) However, we can see that Wayne is already going gray around the temples. Of course, some people’s genetics simply cause them to go gray earlier, and that’s certainly a possibility, but one fan theory suggest there may be more going on. The idea has been put forward that Wayne’s super-speed may be having an adverse effect on him, forcing his body to work overtime to keep up. The resulting physical stress could be making him age prematurely.

That’s not the only factor to consider. As hard as heroism may have been on his body, the effects on Metroman’s mind would have been even greater. Before the events in the movie, Metro City’s authorities—and, indeed, all its citizens—became too reliant upon their superhuman hero, and as a result that hero was run ragged. That isn’t a mere hypothesis. A scene that was storyboarded but never included in the final film makes Metroman’s plight perfectly clear. We see him being called from one end of the city to the other for everything from a massive explosion to an old lady needing help opening a jar. Keep in mind that, when hearing a cry for assistance, the hero would likely be unable to tell who truly needed him urgently and who was simply making unnecessary demands, thus he would have to rush to every call he heard. Even the city’s law enforcement seems to take him for granted, refusing to take criminals he just hand-delivered to jail because they’re on lunch break. The cumulative effect is that Metroman looks nearly frantic with stress.

This is important because, aside from the obvious mental and emotional concerns, this sort of stress accelerates aging as well. According to an article in the Huffington Post, when glycation and telomere shortening, as well as the over-oxidation, are caused by enduring heightened stress for prolonged periods of time, it can result not only in graying hair and premature wrinkles, but heart trouble as well. Even the memory can be affected, as one study by the University of Wisconsin found that stress can age a person’s brain up to four years faster than normal, and contribute to cognitive problems later in life. (The study was part of a presentation—you have no idea how badly I wanted to write that word in all-caps—and is thus currently unpublished, but information about it can be found in an article from Over Sixty.)

Metroman Retired for the Good of Everybody

As you can see, in a strange way, having a super-powered Defender was actually crippling Metro City. In fact, it may be truly damaging to the local infrastructure and official organizations. Youtuber Olaf Scholtens, in his video Megamind: Power and Identity, uses the metaphor of an airplane manufacturer to explain what’s going on. (If you’ve read my own post Megamind and Identity, you’ve seen this before.) Engineers and factories put a lot of effort and expense into making certain aircraft are as safe as possible, but what would happen if they felt they could confidently assume a superhero would simply catch any plane that crashed, saving everyone on board? Safety standards would probably become far more lax, and people might be in far more danger as a result. Given the way that nearly everyone in Metro City seems to assume Metroman will always save the day, it’s possible that, within the urban area, the same thing could be happening with things like building code enforcement, large construction projects, and even public safety measures. Bridges might not be properly built, fire hazards might not be addressed, and, given the blasé attitudes of the cops in the storyboard, law enforcement officers might not even be bothering to keep an eye on things. By retiring, Metroman forced the city to become more self-sufficient again.

That, however, may not have been the only problem Metroman was trying to solve. Remember the whole discussion about the former Defender’s school boy bullying and the apparent conspiracy to turn one boy into a hero and the other into a supervillain? It’s possible Wayne may have felt remorse for the former and found out about the latter. Having battled Megamind so much in the past, he also may have realized that the blue man never actually hurt anyone, and in fact went out of his way to stage their confrontations in abandoned places. (Again, you can read more about that in both Megamind and Identity and The Warden.) It may be that Metroman real “brilliant plan” wasn’t simply to fake his death, but in doing so to prod Megamind into becoming a hero and thus accepted by society.

There is an alternative theory, put forward in a Reddit post, that Megamind and Metroman’s parents may have known one another, and may have sent both children to Earth with the intention of them becoming a dynamic duo, fighting evil together with Megamind as the brains and Metroman as the brawn. This could have been what Megamind’s father meant when he told his son: “You are destined for greatness.” While there is very little support for this in the movie, it would explain why, in the vast cosmos, both of the young survivors were sent not only to the same planet, but even to the same city.

Whatever the reason may have been, one thing is certain: there certainly is some evidence that Metroman intended his one-time nemesis to become a hero. One of his lines, after Roxanne and Megamind discover he’s still alive, supports this. You know the one. “If there’s bad, good will rise up against it. It’s taken me a long time to find my calling; now it’s time you find yours.” Then, of course, there is another line, when Music Man is watching his former enemy take the role of Defender of Metro City: “way to go, Little Buddy. I knew you had it in you.”

If Metroman really did purposefully help Megamind step into heroism, that could also explain why he didn’t stop Megamind from taking over the city—perhaps he trusted the blue man not to harm anyone and to eventually come to his senses—as well as why he refuses to overtly help defeat Titan. He does, however, clearly subtly assist Megamind, as the latter almost certainly went back to Wayne’s hideout to scan his appearance and voice into the holowatch. All of this together makes it seem quite plausible that Metroman not only wanted to retire, but also wanted the blue man to take his place.

Megamind and Metroman by White-Night-56 on Deviant Art

Maybe this means that, now that Megamind is the Defender of Metro City, he and Music Man occasionally get together to commiserate over the more difficult aspects of being a superhero and joke about the old days.

It’s also quite possible that all of these fan theories could be true. The film Megamind is, among other things, surprisingly subtle, complex, and subversive for an animated movie. Every time I dive deep into some aspect or other of the plot, I am once again impressed by the amount of thought and detail that went into this work. No wonder Megamind—and its characters—have so many dedicated fans.

[pogaytosalad]

Heres a wip of a sequel.

Dmviolence, by jade

Hello, if youre hearing this, it probably means im dead. Either that, or im alive and just got tired of keeping this hidden. You might remember my voice from a previous recording about a takeover in sector ⬽:➻, in which id helped prevent total annihilation of the sector. At the time i was unnamed, however now you may call me Kalton. After the takeover i resigned and moved to a job at a dmv. This planet was, for some reason, in one of the most tactically advantageous locations in the galaxy. And for some reason the higher ups dedicated the whole damn planet to dmvs. Dont ask why. Now, onto the story.

I woke up, and i put on my emerald green contact lenses. Just like any other day. I put on a basic white t-shirt and a leather bomber jacket along with a pair of jean shorts. If you cant tell by now, im gay.

I live in a small apartment. By small apartment i mean a bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen all crammed into 2 rooms. I hopped out the bedroom window onto my motorcycle. It was a diamond white motorcycle with deep red stripes along the sides and the handlebars. My pride and joy. I put on my jet black helmet and took off towards my job at the, you guessed it, dmv.

Chapter 2

I pulled up in the parking lot and took off my helmet, my blue hair a total rats nest. The doors were push doors, yet i somehow ALWAYS pulled first. I entered the dmv and went to my station. A few hours passed by and no one had come in yet, which was unusual. So naturally i decided to sit down on the floor, put in my earbuds, and enjoyed some heavy metal. A few more hours passed by, and usually by now i wouldve been yelled at by my boss. This struck me as odd so i stood up. I really wish i hadnt stood up. The place had been completely destroyed. There were drop pods crashed in through the roof and they all had the ERGON logo on them. Ergon was a multi trillion dollar pencil manufacturing company with its own military. They had previously tried to take over sector ⬽:➻ when i had been working there. I was not looking forwards to what was about to happen.

Quickly, i ducked back onto the floor before anyone saw me. There were 4 riot soldiers holding this building. This was gonna be fun. The riot soldiers are your stereotypical riot gear and police baton soldiers. But these guys had laser batons and the riot gear gave them heightened strength and speed. They also had some, dare I say, shitty energy pistols. I crawled over to one of the soldiers who wasnt being watched and broke their neck. Carefully I took the baton and the pistol. Slowly crawled my way back to my station and checked the shot count in the pistol. I had 6 shots, just enough to take care of the remaining three soldiers. I stood up quickly and shot each soldier twice in the head. First shot to open the riot helmet, second shot to kill. I vaulted over the counter and grabbed the three pistols. These things were so stupid. You couldnt even remove the clips. Once you ran out of shots, the pistol was useless. Nonetheless, i didnt have any choice. I had a laser baton and 18 total shots in 3 pistols.

Upon leaving the building, my motorcycle was one of the few things to survive. It had alot of scratches and damage, but it still worked. The helmet was shattered however. I mounted the motorcycle and took off towards the next closest dmv. Maybe id find some better gear there.

Chapter 3

Pulling up next to the second dmv i immediately noticed 3 things. 1: there was blood everywhere. 2: there were 25 soldiers here. And 3: they all had energy weapons. The reason these things are relevant is because energy weapons dont cause bloodshed. This was the result of something else. Something new i hadnt dealt with yet.

I drove up and ran over 5 of the soldiers. This was probably an incredibly bad idea, seeing as i had 18 shots, enough for 9 kills, and there were 20 soldiers left. Every single soldier turned to me and i, being the absolute genius that i am, welded the front of one of the pistols shut with the laser baton, shot it off, and threw it into thei crowd of soldiers. It exploded, releasing a shockwave of energy and disabling the soldiers. I then used the baton to cut through the riot gear and kill the soldiers. I felt like a badass. That is until a mechanical looking wolf jumped at me and started trying to rip my face off.

The wolf was a frostwolf, except it had been placed into a mechanical frame and its teeth and claws had been replaced with lasers. I tried to bash it off of me with the baton but it just bit it in two. This gave me just enough time to grab an energy pistol and shoot the wolf. It kept trying to kill me amd i wasted a whole clip on it until suddenly, the dog started to levitate in the air and got thrown aside into a wall. I got up and was instantly frozen in place. Thats when.. she walked up.

Chapter 4

The she i am reffering to is ebony. A goth/punk wannabe with light blue tear shaped eyes and black hair with purple streaks. Shes a bitch whos mind got too powerful and now she can move things without touching them. Shes been chasing me for months. Not in a murderous way. Shes just obsessed with me. Ive tried to tell her im gay but she wont listen. And now im at her mercy.

She walked up to me and kissed me on the cheek. I hated it. She looked as if she was contemplating whether or not to free me when a pod came down from the sky and crushed her. Thank god. But i honestly wouldve rathered suffered at her hand than deal with what i had to deal with next...

Out of the pod came the warden. The goddamn warden from sector ⬽:➻. Last id seen him hed been in the same situation as ebony. Crushed to death under a pod. But this time, instead of being on my side, he was here to kill me. He was huge. Like seriously huge. He was at least 8 feet tall and shaped like gaston. Whos gaston? Nobody knows these days. But its basically a way to say "extremely buff and wide". Back to the story. The warden wasnt looking very good, considering the rotten skin, obviously quickly patched together face, and muscles hanging loose out of his skin. His rotting ruined body was held together by an exoskeleton of chromium-tungsten alloy. Nothing i had was gonna cut through that. I was gonna have to get creative here..

The warden had 2 weapons, both of them were his fists. Huge gauntlets that were each about the size of a cow. Definitely bigger than his previous set. They were a golden green metal i couldnt identify. But i didnt want to get hit with one to try and find out. I ran. I ran as fast i could run into the dmv and hid. I could hear the wardens footsteps. It was as if a small earthquake happened each time he took a step.

I peeked over the desk i was hiding behind and saw him punch through the 2 desks opposite to me. It took no effort and i couldve sworn i saw him smile. Obviously i didnt. Cause he didnt have a mouth anymore. But if he did, he definitely wouldve smiled. I took a shot to get his attention and ran off towards the wall. The warden was definitely faster than i expected.

Luckily i managed to dodge the blow by a centimeter. The metal smelled of decaying flesh and popcorn. The wardens blow punched a huge hole in the wall. I hope you see where im going with this.

I ran off to another wall and we repeated this same process a number of times until the building was barely still up. I ran out the doors and threw the baton at the last of the supports, cutting through it and causing the building to collapse in on the warden. He wasnt getting out of that. I decided to search the rubble to see if i could find anything worth taking. I found a new baton, a flame rifle and a few more energy pistols.

The flame rifle was a very interesting design. The sides were painted jet black with flame decals scattered about. You could feel the heat on the inside and it made the gun warm to the touch. Comfortable to hold. Other than that though, it looked like an old fashioned 8.59mm sniper rifle. It had 4 shots remaining, so id have to use it sparingly.

I grabbed some scrap materials out of the rubble to make a holster for it and put it on my back.

The energy pistols just dangled from a keychain. The baton was simply turned off and placed through a hole in the back pockets of my shorts. I ran to my motorcycle and drove off, i needed to find out more. I had questions, and i had a sneaking suspicion that i knew where to find the answers.

I drove off again, i was dirty and there was blood on me and my bike. I probably looked like a serial killer. But i knew that if anyone was still alive, itd be jayden. They were.. well. They were a vampire. They lived in a swampland area and wore sparkly rainbow shirts and a huge sunhat. The sunhat allowed them to go outside in the sun, and they only drank coconut water. They also had a crazy amount of weaponry and used to work at ergon, before being fired for stealing weaponry. By the way, if you havent noticed by now, im using they/them to refer to jayden. Jayden doesnt have a gender. Jayden.. is kind of my crush. It probably has something to do with the fact that theyre the only person on this planet who talks to me. Other than ebony.. but ebony is... not my type i guess. Anyways, back to jayden. Jayden was on the roof of their swamp shack drinking coconut water out of a wine glass. I yelled up at them and they fell off the roof onto my back. I guess i cushioned their fall. Jayden immediately said "What do you need dear" without waiting for me to stand up, and shattered the wine glass. I informed them of the situation and asked the questions i had. Things like "what are the ergon soldiers defences like on their ships" and "how did they reanimate the warden" they had answers.

Jayden told me about the new security measures that had been put in place since id last been on an ergon ship. There was now a code for each teleportation pod and the gaurds had doubled. As for the warden, it turns out jayden was actually the first test run in reanimation sciences, and couldnt answer me because they had been unconcious in a lab when the warden was reanimated. That explained the vampire undead thing. Jayden invited me into the shack where they pulled a nail out of the floorboards and it turned into a ramp to the basement. Down in the basement? Thats where jayden kept their weapons they stole. And boy oh boy were there some interesting ones.

One that immediately caught my attention was the big rocket launcher. It had 3 barrels and each was a different colour, indicating a different effect. One was red, one was yellow, and one was green. The red barrel fired a normal explosive rocket, the yellow barrel fired an electromagnetic pulse rocket, and the green barrel fired an acidic explosive. And the launcher shrunk down to the size of an energy pistol when a button was pressed. It gathered up dirt and dust and garbage around it from the back to quickly convert into ammo but the only downside is that it would be difficult to use more than once in an area.

Jayden picked out an old shotgun. At first i didnt understand why, but then they loaded the clip. The clip was a huge drum that loaded in the bottom of the barrel. The drum was see through and inside you could see sawblades lined up side by side. When they pumped the shotgun a blade got lifted into a slot between the 2 shotgun barrels and started glowing red. When the trigger was pulled, the blade spun at high speeds and fired out of the slot, spinning along the ground like a wheel. It could cut through anything a baton could cut through and seemed to almost follow its target. The gun itself looked like an DP-12, except behind the pump, a large clear drum full of sawblades was in place. The blade sat between the barrels in place of the iron sights and got heated up by an electrical circut.

I also took a laser sword instead of my baton, it was just like the one that [3825968] had, except this one was about an inch longer. The final weapon i took was an acid thrower. It was basically just a watergun with acid in it. Ive always been partial to acidic weapons. If youve heard my other story, youd know why..

Jayden also took a submachine gun that fired freezing rounds. The rounds were essentially glorified waterballoons with liquid nitrogen in them. Though the rounds were bullet sized, enough shots from it would certainly freeze you in place. The freeze gun was about the size of the average human head, and was painted navy blue with blue saphire stripes placed along it. We both left the shack, me with my sword and jayden with a wine glass. We were ready to kick ass and put a stop to this.

We left and immediately both got flung into some trees. Guess who it was. It was ebony. Her body had been found and reanimated. I was starting to see a pattern. And now we had to fight the telekinetic who could kill us with a wave of her hand.

She was levitating. Her eyes were glowing red and her hair was floating in the air. She had a smile of someone about to rip your arms off and beat you with them. I tried to take a shot at her but my hand got knocked aside by an invisible force. So i tried the next best thing. Seduction. Fake seduction. Hopefully the whole dying and coming back from the dead thing didnt make her stop being weirdly obsessed with me.

While i faked surrender and complimented ebony and attempted to seduce her, jayden took aim of their ice gun and shot a burst at ebonys right arm. The arm froze in place and shattered. Hopefully that would lower the strength of her telekinetic abilities. It did. But only by about half. Which meant jayden got thrown into the air as i tried to discreetly unholster my acid gun. It wasnt discreet enough and the gun was knocked from my hand.

The gun flew forwards and the impact of hitting the ground set it off for a second, just enough to spray an acidic burn through her arm. Incapacitating her. Jayden ended up sneaking up behind her and impaling her through the skull with the shattered end of their wine glass. Finally ebony was dead for good.

The acid gun was busted, so we had to leave it behind. We got onto my motorcycle and took off towards my apartment building. We would need food if we were going to be traveling. An apartment complex would probably be full of foods, and alot of dead people who wouldnt care if we took some stuff.

[sulevinblade]

DA Question

Tagged by: nobody, I just wanted to play

Tagging: @gremlinquisitor​ because I haven’t seen you do it yet

01) Favorite game of the series?

Inquisition, hands down. 

02) How did you discover Dragon Age?

Fun story, I first played Origins somewhere between seven and nine years and never got my Brosca out of Orzammar. It was on PC and I just couldn’t get used to the controls. Then I made a friend who is a hardcore Bioware fan. Xe got me invested in Mass Effect first and I marathoned all three games (almost, I haven’t actually finished me3) then got stubborn and refused to play Dragon Age, but xe sent me Origins and I had no reason not to at that point. I still held out till this past summer, but once I started I never looked back.

03) How many times you’ve played the games?

I’m on my second Origins playthough, DA2 only once so far, and uhhhh technically I’ve only finished DAI once but I have three other playthroughs I intend to see through to the end.

04) Favorite race to play as?

I love dwarves, oh my god. There was never a question that my first Warden would be a dwarf, and I only waited as long as I did for a dwarf in Inquisition because I don’t like the Cadash origin. Bring back my Orzammar dwarves!

05) Favorite class?

Warrior, always. I have a couple of mages and enjoy them, but I am a warrior player at heart always, my first protag will always be a warrior, and I tend to love warrior characters too.

06) Do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time? 

So far in Origins, my choices have been largely the same, though I think I’ll try to save Conner this time. I have a Hawke right now who I’m trying to play as red but it’s SO HARD, I just like being nice to people and making friends! So far many of my Inquisition choices have been the same, except for romances, but Varevas is going to drink from the Well where Ghilanel let Morrigan do it, Astoria’s going to conscript the templars where both of them recruited the mages, Varevas will disband the Inquisition while Ghilanel kept it going, there are a lot of changes coming when I get time to play through stuff.

07) Go-to adventuring group? 

Origins is always Alistair, Zevran, and Wynne, no matter how hard I try to make myself mix it up. I was warned about DA2 so I changed it up for maximum friendship but if I had my way, it would’ve been Jonah, Aveline, Anders, and Fenris or Varric. Three guards and a healer meant leaving a lot of chests unopened so I tried to bring Varric along when I could. Ghilanel’s go to was Solas, Dorian, and Varric, and so far Varevas’ has been Dorian, Sera, and either Bull or Blackwall.

08) Which of your characters did you put the most thought into? 

Ghilanel has the most time and creativity invested in her at this point. I didn’t put much thought into any of them going in beyond appearance and who I wanted to romance (though Ghilanel was originally going to be a Cullen or Blackwall romance, fucking egg ruins everything) but Ghilanel grew and grew as I played and thought about her. Leohta, Jonah, and Varevas all have a lot to offer, but in terms of being developed and able to support a story of their own, it’s definitely Ghil.

09) Favorite romance?

Dorian, oh man. I just swoon, he’s perfect.

10) Have you read any of the comics/books?

I’ve read almost all of the comics (I’m halfway through Knight Errant) and I have many of the books but haven’t actually started any of them yet.

11) If you read them, which was your favorite book?

I enjoyed Magekiller a LOT!

12) Favorite DLCs?

Descent. The Wellspring is possibly the most beautiful environment in any of the games, I almost cried when my party got there, and everything leading up to that was also visually stunning as well as exactly the kind of lore I live for. It also features my beautiful wife Valta and her perfect husband Renn which is just a bonus. I will say, though, Jaws of Hakkon could easily surpass it if they’d like, put out a novelization of Ameridan’s Inquisition. Trespasser was incredible too but sadly I was spoiled and that took a lot of the fun out of the end of it.

13) Things that annoy you.

Little things like not being able to swim and not hearing banter when you’re on a mount. Bigger things like the fact that in order to make an informed decision about Orlais (as a player) you have to have read an entire other novel because the game doesn’t give you the information you need, even if it’s also not necessarily things your character would know. All the sort of stock things, like Cassandra not being bi (among other characters but she’s the one that makes me the most angry), Bioware whitewashing their own characters, no dwarf romances. Not even touching on fandom stuff.

14) Orlais or Ferelden?

Ferelden always.

15) Templars or mages?

Templars, to be contrary (by which I mean I have Opinions about this and while in general I side with mages in all things, I still say Templars).

16) If you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one?

I only really have one complete world state right now, with Leohta romancing Alistair and putting Anora alone on the throne, and Jonah romancing Anders and running away with him at the end of the game, but within that Ghilanel is the Inquisitor with Varevas as her clan’s First who survives the Conclave with her; Astoria as a rebel mage who joins up before even considering going to Redcliffe because her nephew is the Inquisitor; and Leohta attending the Conclave undercover as a Carta member and trying to maintain that cover after Haven.

17) What did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc)

Leohta and Jonah both named their mabaris Leon, and Buian named hers Taz.

18) Have you installed any mods?

PS player, no mods here

19) Did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden? 

It beat the alternative. Die in the Deep Roads now, or die in the Deep Roads later. Leohta chose later. 

20) Hawke’s personality? 

Blue as the summer sky over Lothering, Jonah is a pure child.

21) Did you make matching armor for your companions in Inquisition?

Only for their love interests; Ghilanel and Solas were all green and gold until the breakup, then she dyed her armour deep red. Varevas and Dorian are white and red. Leohta’s all warden armour, just like Alistair. Astoria would match Bull if Bull wore more clothing...

22) If your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change?

Leohta would’ve been more careful with Zevran’s heart to avoid having to dump him right before the final battle.

Jonah would’ve investigated the alleged serial killings sooner, to possibly save his mother.

Ghilanel would’ve worked harder to make something of herself before the Inquisition knowing she’d need it later.

Varevas would’ve... I dunno. Probably flirted harder with Cullen, he’s hilarious when he’s all out of sorts over it.

23) Do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?

I’m sure I do but I can’t think of any just now, which is odd.

24) Who did you leave in the Fade?

JONAH BABY I’M SORRY I DIDN’T KNOW so from now on it’s gonna be Stroud

25) Favorite mount? 

Ghilanel liked the Royal Sixteen and Varevas loves his Dalish All-bred but in general I don’t bother with them, I like the banter more than getting around faster.

[wxldchxld]

🌁+ Beck drags Ros outside to play with her in fox form look how much fun she's having Ros play with her!

Three weeks. Three weeks nursing a spell that would bring a good snow to London. It wasn’t the type of magic she could channel herself. It took Beck, both of her dogs, and the begrudging assistance of Ros’ cat Vlad sitting around the circle for hours each night after Ros had gone to sleep. It was harmless work, without any fear of backfiring spells or expending personal energy, but tedious.

She waited for days by windows, eagerly squinting into the distance for the blanket of clouds that was approaching on the horizon. It was to be a slow build, traveling south from Scotland so that the city people would have some time to prepare. Morning air and evening skies went from crisp to cutting cold, but Beck didn’t mind. She liked to stand outside and let the frost nip at her cheeks and remind her of the many winters she’d spent fending for herself; alone in an Alaskan safe house on the edge of nowhere. 

Beck was awake when the first flake fell against the window sill. There was barely any light to see by; a sliver of sun peaked over the horizon to cast a spotlight on the magical winter scene unfolding on the quiet London street. She curled herself up on the back of the couch next to the window—occasionally reacting out her hand to touch the frosted pane. Vlad joined her, not two feet away, flicking his eyes and his tail back and forth with incredibly contempt as if to say ‘THIS is what we did all that work for?’

The snow fell continuously. It didn’t stop. It didn’t slow. The pace was furious and the flakes were fat. By seven am there was a perfect blanket of snow, at least six inches sprawled out over the normally bustling city. The storm gradually receded into light flurries falling from the sky and the clouds parted enough for the sun to shine down on the ivory plain and make it sparkle. Scientists would call it something wordy and accurate like ‘the refraction of light through the water crystals’ but Beck knew it for what it was. She saw the world through witches’ eyes and to her kind the first snow was an incredible magical experience.

She couldn’t take it any longer. She needed to be out there. She needed to feel it. But there was also the profound need to share that feeling. 

Her feet were paws before they even touched the ground. From down her long red nose the world around her appeared enormous and out of proportion now. She was Jack in the Giant’s house at the top of the beanstalk. She scaled the mountainous, sloped back of the couch and zipped through a forest of dining room chairs, rounding one corner, then the next, then bolting up the staircase at breakneck speed. The faster she went the faster she wanted to go, the stronger her excitment became. She couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to. 

The door to Ros’ room flew open with a bit of magic and the little fox zoomed into the room as no more than a blur. She jumped, flying up onto the bed, and found herself still unable to stop. So she darted to the head of the bed, then sprinted back towards the door in a mad man’s running fit.

‘Ros!’ She called, turning around in the hallway only centimeters before her little black nose collided with the wall. Back into the room, up onto the bed, wheeling around in a wild circle. ‘Ros!’

Beck was gone before she could see the agent abruptly stir to life and reach for her gun in nervous anticipation. She did, however, hear the slightly panicked voice asking her what in the hell was going on. The third time when she returned, hopping onto the bed, she managed to stop herself. She lowered down onto her haunches and left her rear in the air; her puffed tail swung back and forth behind her to further betray her excitement.

‘Ros it’s snowing!’ She said, barely audible in Ros’ head due to the ecstatic yips she was making. ‘Get up! Get up and come see the snow with me! Please! Please!’

Then she was gone again.

When she made her way back down the stairs, Vlad was lying in wait just out of sight, and as she zipped out into the hall, he pounced on her rear. The two stumbled, rolling and tumbling into the dining room, and then took off in a chase. For two laps around the dining room table, under and then back over the couch in the living room, and three laps around the kitchen island the cat pursued her. When he finally caught her, they both batted at one another harmlessly until Vlad took notice of Ros coming down the stairs and abandoned their game in exchange for yowling for food.

‘I made coffee!’ She proclaimed, hopping so high into the air that she cleared the top of the counter and could see the coffee pot herself. Ros wasn’t paying attention, she was looking out the window with her brows knit tightly together and a frown on her face. When Beck hopped again, Ros caught her at the peak of her jump and pulled her tightly against her chest so that Beck was forced to be still.

“What is happening?” She asked. Her tone betrayed her level of shock. 

‘Snow! Snow is here!’

“It never snows like this. Not here.” Ros protested. There was some accusation in her tone that Beck didn’t care for, despite the fact that this was indeed her fault.

‘Oh come on Ros please. Please let’s just go out in the snow.’ She wriggled in an attempt to get down, and with a sigh of discontent, Ros gently placed her back on the floor. She got her coffee, turned on the television, and fed Vlad. When Beck pleaded with her again to come outside Ros started talking about boring things like getting to work and what a hassle this was going to be for the division as she set out her breakfast. Dejected, Beck let her ears sink from their excited, perky position on her head, and left the grumpy agent to her food.

She opened the front door herself. Her dogs were both waiting with wagging tails and anxious panting that brightened her mood considerably. The three of them bounded out into the backyard at full speed into the still falling snow. By now the snow was half way up to her shoulder, and she was a whole eighteen inches tall in her fox form. It was too fresh to be properly packed, and she was forced to either plow through the snow or hop along.

Jupiter ran behind her, nipping at her tail, and they stumbled around and wrestled for a few minutes before they took to both ambushing Warden, who had been oh so excited to come outside, only to stand on the porch and keep watch. They pulled at his ears and tail until he got fed up with them both and gave a warning snap.

She was on the railing, with a coat full of ivory snowflakes, and chomping on a clump of ice when she heard the click of the doorknob and the crunch of snow underfoot behind her. Ros’ hand felt strange on her coat and she wriggled about until she discovered why; a layer of thick leather covering each of the agent’s hands. Ros wasn’t stroking her affectionately, rather dusting the small heap of snow that had settled on her back since she’d begun working on the block of ice still captured beneath her claws. It was a losing battle; with every swipe of Ros’ hand, another host of snowflakes landed on her fur once more.

‘Ros!’ She proclaimed, as if this were the very first time she’d seen her this morning and hadn’t been tearing around the house like a hellion only minutes before. The little red fox rubbed her muzzle into the snow and huffed. ‘Do you want to play in the snow? We could make snow angels, or snow men, or snow foxes–here!’

She pounced down onto the ground and went into another low bow. She scurried left, then right, then back to the center. ‘Come on! See if you can hit me. Hit me with a snowball! I bet I’m faster.’

“Don’t be ludicrous.” The agent replied, rolling her eyes as Beck darted away from her. “We’re going to be late enough as it is with the roads like this.”

Beck had taken to using a combination of magic, muzzle, and paws, to craft her own ball of snow. ‘No one is dumb enough to drive in this. Not even terrorists.’

“Beck I’m freezing come back in the–don’t you dare.” Ros had raised up a finger as the fox began to close her muzzle around the ball of snow as if she might hurl it. “I will make a coat out of you, I swear it.”

The enormous white ball of tightly packed snow flung from Beck’s muzzle, but she’d had to spin to pick up enough momentum to chuck it. So while she had been attempting to fluster Ros by throwing it against the side of the house, now it was flying right towards her. She wasn’t sure if she should run for cover or laugh until her tail fell off. 

Before Ros could move out of the way, Warden’s enormous body reared up from the porch and with one snap of his hulking jaws the snowball disappeared. He landed with a grunt, looked back at Ros, and then flopped back down into the snow as if he’d just run a marathon. 

‘That wasn’t intentional!’ But there was laughter bubbling through her plea for mercy. Laughter that was met with Ros’ frosty glare of exasperation. Unconcerned by the loathsome expression Beck hopped from the ground to a step, to a railing not far from where Ros was standing in a fairly impressive display of athleticism. She regarded the agent’s surly demeanor with the same happy-go-lucky enthusiasm that she always did.

“If I throw a snowball at you will you come back into the house?” She asked, imploring Beck with her eyes. 

'Six snowballs!’ The fox bartered, hopping in the air and seamlessly landing on the railing once more. 

“One.” Ros asserted, and Beck couldn’t decide if she was fighting off a smile or trying not to grimace. 

‘Ten!’ The fox argued, then bolted back off around the yard. She tore left and right and wove through the bushes. 

“Remind me not to involve you in any hostage negotiations.” Ros called after her, only slightly raising her voice. Beck wasn’t paying attention; she was too caught up in how beautiful the snow was as it flew around her. She was half way back to the porch when she saw the snowball. It was half the size of her face and even though she violently dug her back paws into the ground and tried to turn, it hit her square on the muzzle. But not before she heard Ros call out her name in warning. It was too late. The little fox went rolling like a cartoon character down a hill, and was only stopped by a heap of snow that had gathered along the garden wall.

“Beck.” She heard Ros call. Then she said something else. Something about her going too fast but Beck scarcely heard it. She laid sprawled onto her side, panting and letting out audible laughter. Or as close to it as she could get to it in her current form. Peels of squeaking laughter stole her breath away, and she rolled in the cold snow and reveled in the dizziness in her head. 

‘You---you hit me---right in the face!’ She yipped. Ros was beside her now, her hand was inches from Beck’s side when the fox bolted upright and scurried back. ‘Do it again!’

Beck slapped a spray of snow towards Ros with her tail and took off running again.

Over the course of the next half an hour she managed to goad Ros into throwing two more snowballs in her general direction, none of which being ask accurately aimed as the first, but astoundingly one did manage to hit her and the other only just missed. When she finally stopped her legs felt like jelly and she was madly panting for air. At which point Ros insisted she was freezing and Beck trotted into the house after her.

[a-gay-bloodmage]

—Where’s the dress?—

For @zevranology‘s #Zevwarden week

Pairing: Zevran x Male Amell Warden ((Side of platonic Leliana x Warden))

Pairing Type: M/M

Words: 3,880

Warnings: Blood Magic/Mind manipulation, Cross-Dressing, use of OC’s name

Shoutout to my proof-reader and tired friend @winchesterhorizon for helping!

“What do you mean? How is it now that you’re not fit to do anything?” Zevran was watching his Warden slowly lose his mind. They’d been assigned a job from the dear old Arl of Redcliffe to infiltrate a party, and steal some very important documents. Something to do with nobles, torture, Loghain, and Howe.

Very fun things.

Although, if he were to ask his Warden, nothing was fun about any of this, and running errands for the Arl is as bad as the rack. Although, moods tended to go south fast when one of two people needed for the job was currently lying on a bed of furs with her leg crushed. Leliana had been quite unfortunate in their last encounter with the Darkspawn, and had gotten one of her lovely legs caught under a fallen ogre.

Now that wasn’t fun at all.

“Dear,” Zevran said, placing his hand on his Warden’s shoulder, directing him to a log by the firepit to sit down. “Just breathe, we’ll figure something out!” He was smiling a very fake smile. “Since when have we ever failed a mission simply because one of us wasn’t up to the job?”

“If you’re referencing the time our lovely Alistair got food poisoning and we had to take Shale to run errands for the Chantry, I will tell you now, that was different!” The Warden, a mage named Redren, wasn’t often the most pleasant person. He had a fairly short temper most of the time, and despite his soft face and frail-looking body, he was Hell on Earth when he was angry.

“If I may,” Leliana piped up, “it might be best to replace me with Morrigan, as, well, she’s the only other young lady we have. Sorry Wynne.”

“No need to apologize, I am aware I’m aged,” Wynne commented.

“As I told you,” Morrigan snarled. “I have no interest going to this party for such trivial things. If ‘tis truly so important, can we not just break in and take these papers? There is no need for polite society in war.” Zevran would’ve been inclined to agree, but he of all people knew that sometimes, playing to ‘polite society’ was the only way to get a job done efficiently. If torturers could be counted as members of a polite society.

“Lovely Morrigan,” Zevran said, sitting down on the log next to Redren, keeping his hand on the fuming mage. “This is an operation of stealth, and all we need to do is figure a way out of this current crisis. I am sure we will come up with something, as I cannot recall an incident where we did not.”

“Zevran,” Redren sighed, sounding calmer, but defeated. “Leliana said, very clearly in her note that she was a member of the noble Sarina family, and that she was a ‘fair-skinned, red-haired maiden,’ and that she was to be accompanied by her elven servant. And last I checked, we have no other fair-skinned, red-haired maiden on hand!” Redren was back to fuming, and knowing him, Zevran knew it wasn’t really because of how this mission was likely going to be a bust, but more of the fact that he blamed himself for not protecting Leliana in battle as well as he thought he could’ve. But in truth, accidents did sometimes happen, and nothing could be changed now, so it only made matters worse to dwell on unchangeable things. As he sat thinking of what to say, he couldn’t help but notice he was sitting next to another fair-skinned, red-haired person. An idea sprung forth, and he couldn’t help the snort that broke the relative silence of the morning.

“Something funny, Zevran?” Redren asked, not exactly happily.

“Not funny per se, but rather, well, interesting.” He explained. “I have an idea, but I’m not too sure you’ll be very fond of it.”

“If it helps fix this mess, I’m willing to do damn near anything! So spit it out.”

Zevran was holding onto hope that the Warden’s feelings for him would help him listen. He and Redren had been together for a while, both of them truly smitten with each other. He only hoped that his love was still there as strong as before, since their relationship had hit a bad bump a month back.

“I propose that we work with what we do have,” he started. “We may only have one fair-skinned, red-haired maiden, but we also have a fair-skinned, red-haired man.”

“You’re joking.” Redren said, both as a statement and a question. “You have to be joking.”

“I am afraid I am not, my dearest Warden,” Zevran replied. “But unless anybody else comes up with a better plan, mine is all we have.”

Redren just buried his head in his hands. Zevran wasn’t the best at comforting men right before they lost a good chunk of their remaining masculinity, so he decided to just pat his Warden on the back.

He heaved a heavy sigh before he spoke. “Where’s the dress?”

..

Redren was thankfully only an inch taller than Leliana, standing at 5'9" over her 5'8". Zevran couldn’t exactly hear what was going on in Leliana’s tent, but based on the sudden squeal of Maker, woman! That’s bloody tight! it was safe to assume that Leliana had just yanked the laces on the corset. Zevran, on the other hand, was easily putting on his dress clothes, which were a lovely deep red, with gold, black, and white. Not to mention, actually comfortable. He assumed Redren wasn’t as happy with his outfit. He left his tent, and sat by the fire, where Alistair was sitting with Oghren and Morrigan. Wynne was taking a nap, and Shale was on patrol with Sten and Dog, Redren’s mabari.

“He sounds like he’s having a lot of fun in there, eh?” Oghren laughed, just as another yell was heard, this time something about a brassiere and Andraste’s flaming breasts. “But I suppose being dressed up and touched all over by a woman as beautiful as that one is comes at a price, huh? Lucky him!”

“Oghren,” Alistair whispered, not so quietly. “He’s gay, remember?”

“Ancestors, yeah.” He paused, thinking. “So he’s doing all this for free? That kid’s a sodding soldier!”

Zevran couldn’t help but laugh at their conversation. Overhearing dialogues from confused heterosexual men was always fun. Just as he opened his mouth to make a dirty comment about just what they were missing out on, they all jumped as Redren squealed again. This time, they very clearly heard Leliana yelling back.

“How long has it been since you brushed your hair?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you even own a hairbrush?!”

“Why would I?!”

“Because your hair’s longer than mine, and I just hit a knot the size of a curled up mouse in this rat’s nest!”

All three of the men by the fire snickered at the exchange. As soft as his face was, Redren was certainly no dainty lady. Even Morrigan looked amused, likely due to the pain their Warden was suffering though, the sadist.

It was about midday, which gave Zevran and Redren about three more hours before they had to head out. They’d be walking to the traitorous noble’s manor, about five miles north. A good two hour walk if they stoped for a quick break halfway. If Leliana had her way, however, Redren would be in that tent for another three years getting his hair brushed.

While Redren was busy getting non-consensualy and mildly violently pampered, Zevran was sharpening two of his smaller daggers. He knew that if things got ugly, he’d need to pull them out quickly, so he decided to store them on the inside of his trousers, hooked onto his belt. Whether or not it was agreed on, Zevran’d have to play bodyguard for Redren tonight, as the mage was not only in a less than combat-ready outfit, but he wouldn’t have his staff. As a weapon of both increased magical power and blunt force, Redren would be basically naked without his precious stick. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the kind of nakedness that Zevran enjoyed. Of course, Redren could still use magic without his staff, but it wasn’t as strong as it would be otherwise.

Then again, that statement wasn’t entirely false. To his knowledge, at least.

Zevran remembered reading something a while back, when he was training to take out a group of Blood Mages that had been ruining someone’s plans of political corruption. The research had said that Blood Mages had no need of staffs when performing Blood Magic, and that a simple drop of a victim’s blood was enough to manipulate the target. Blood Mages were the most dangerous of all magic users, and Redren happened to be such a mage.

There were many aspects of magic Zevran didn’t understand. Many aspects. He’d never had any practical need for such knowledge in life. So when he realized that the Grey Warden was a mage, he’d been more excited than before. He took the offer faster than he would have otherwise. What better way to die then at the hands of an unknown enemy with unknown powers? Of course, things hadn’t gone as according to plan, but even as he traveled alongside his Warden, there’d always been a slight air of mystery around him. Magic was a big part of Dalish culture, of course, so it had fascinated him growing up, like every other aspect of the wild elves. Eventually, some of the mysteries of Redren were solved, like what sounds he made when Zevran got just the right angle, or what he looked like after a couple hours of frenzied lovemaking. Those were especially fun to discover.

What wasn’t so fun was learning the man he’d shared his bed with, his secrets with, was a practitioner of the most forbidden magic of all. It’d only been about a month since they found out, and yet it was still so hushed, so taboo, nobody really spoke of it. Of course, they all had at the beginning, leading to a lot of crying, confessions of murder bordering on slaughter, and the newfound knowledge that many Blood Mages never chose to be they way that they were, and that sometimes, a mage is simply born a blood mage. That had been a very strange couple of hours.

“Zevran!” He heard Alistair yell, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was painfully aware of how comfortable he was getting in their little camp, frustrated how his mind wandered sometimes. An assassin’s mind shouldn’t ever wander, but then again, he wasn’t an assassin anymore, and– doing it again!

“Yes, Alistair?” Zevran asked, setting his razor-sharp blades to the side.

“Are you really comfortable with this whole thing?” Alistair’s voice was hushed, and Zevran noticed it was only him and Alistair by the fire. The others must’ve left a while ago.

“'Thing’ is a very broad term, so I ask you elaborate.”

“This whole, you know,” he gestured to Leliana’s tent. “Not just the, well, the making a man dress like a woman, but the whole, traveling alone with him.” Zevran could tell easily that Alistair was nervous.

“Well, if anything, I find the idea of dressing up a handsome man into a beautiful woman quite fun, as it’s certainly a good mix of my tastes!” He laughed. “But as for traveling alone with him, why do you talk like something bad will happen? I’m quite confident in both our abilities to handle ourselves.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about!” Alistair’s voice was a bit shaky. “His abilities, aren’t you nervous being alone with him? Maker knows I’d be,” he whispered.

“Alistair,” Zevran sighed. “I trust him. It may sound crazy, but I have faith he can control his powers. I understand that sometimes, he’s not the most level-headed person, but I don’t believe he’s unable to control his magic. You can’t deny he did very well before we knew.” His voice was a bit harsh, as he was trying to calm two people at once. Zevran hated how apprehensive he was at the idea of being alone with Redren, something he never truly worried about before. He’d known the man for about six months, but only recently had he been, apprehensive. Redren had been nervous as well, hardly acting like he used to. If anything, Zevran thought, the only one who he truly acts the same around is Leliana. She was upset, sure, but for some reason, they always got along so well… He tried not to think about it.

“Alright!” A sing-song voice announced. Zevran turned to look at Leliana, who hobbled out of the tent on a makeshift crutch. “I present to you, the lovely young lady that shall be taking my place tonight!”

As the Warden walked out of the tent, Zevran actually felt his jaw drop. That did not look like his Warden.

Redren’s long ginger hair was brushed, trimmed at the ends, even, his bangs finally falling evenly, covering his fairly unattractive black eyebrows. His waist was cinched, and the dark, blood red dress filled out for the curves he didn’t have. Zevran even noticed that Leliana had likely stuffed one of her own brassieres to give him a noticeable bust.

“Would you all kindly stop staring?” He grumbled, his voice the same, despite the rouge on his lips and cheeks. His bright eyes had dark shadow on them as well, making their green colour that much more vibrant.

“Maker,” Alistair said in an exhale. “Is it a compliment to say that I find you attractive as a woman?” Redren’s eyes widened a bit at that, probably not expecting Alistair to acknowledge that he actually looked good out loud.

“Uh, sure?” He shrugged. “I don’t exactly feel like a lady, but hopefully this’ll fool them long enough.”

“I have found a problem,” Morrigan piped up from a couple feet away from the fire. “We did not inform our lovely targets that their maiden was mute. As ladylike as you appear, your voice, well, 'tis still that of a man.”

“Oh, that’s simple enough.” Redren smiled rolling his eyes. He cleared his throat, and spoke, several octaves higher. “It’s not too hard for me to do a woman’s voice. I just sound like a have a little bit of a cold!”

“You,” Oghren mumbled. “Are too full of surprises for me, woman. I’m taking a nap.” The dwarf waddled off back to his tent, muttering something about women, liars, and never again.

“Well,” Zevran started, still in slight shock. “May I say you look lovely? My compliments to Miss Leliana, too, of course, I never thought any mortal could brush that hair!”

“It was a struggle, that’s for sure!” She laughed. “Now, I think it’s time for you two to head out. Don’t want to be late!” She gave Redren a kiss on the cheek as she cupped her hand around the other side of his face. “Have fun and don’t get killed!” Her smile was bright, but Zevran could see in her eyes that she was worried.

..

When they were about ten minutes down the winding forest road, Zevran finally spoke up.

“I really do mean it, you look very nice.” Zevran could hardly take his eyes off of Redren’s painted lips.

“Thanks,” Redren said with a shrug. “It’s just that, this is a bit weird. I’m not exactly a girl, so it’s really strange to be complimented like I am one.”

“Understandable,” Zevran nodded. “But for what it’s worth, you look nice in your everyday dress, too!”

“Robe, Zevran.” Redren chuckled. “Not a dress.”

“Fine. Would you prefer I say I find you stunning with no pants on?”

“Oh, now you’re teasing!” Redren lightly elbowed Zevran in the shoulder, making the elf laugh.

They both fell quiet, walking down the forest path.

Redren cleared his throat quietly, pausing before he said anything.

“And, I, I think you look good in that.” Zevran was a bit taken aback at Redren’s shyness. Just a month ago, there wouldn’t have been any hint of hesitancy in his voice.

“Thank you,” Zevran smiled. “And may I ask a favor of you?” Redren paused in his walking for a moment, turning to look at Zevran.

“Sure,” he responded, still hesitant.

Zevran reached out to grab Redren’s gloved hand with his own. He intertwined their fingers, soft brown leather rubbing against black cloth. Zevran noticed the softening of Redren’s posture, his shoulders less tense than before.

“Let’s get back to walking, now, no?”

Redren responded with a shy smile, something Zevran would never tell him looked absolutely adorable on his current feminine face.

..

If anything in the world was obvious, it was that there were certain groups of people Redren hated. Zevran watched him with amusement, entertained at how the Warden could curl his lip into a disgusted snarl as soon as a noble woman blinked, but revert back to a sickly sweet smile as soon as a lady turned around. Zevran knew some of the nobility could be oblivious to their surroundings, having been raised in palaces their whole lives. That’s not to say they were easy targets, however, their personal armies of guards made sure of that. Watching Redren actually speak with the noble ladies was certainly a slight.

“Oh, did you hear of the mess that Circle on Calenhad got into? Demons! Honestly, they should’ve just let those abominations burn!” Zevran watched Redren with careful eyes, seriously afraid his temper would get the best of him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Redren replied, his false voice dripping with poisonous sweetness, “I happen to think mages are quite useful!” Zevran was interested to see where this was going. “I mean, without them, we’d have to deal with the Templars ourselves!” The noble woman he was talking to burst out in laughter, nasally with the distinct hint of inbreeding.

“Ha! Certainly! I can’t imagine the horror of more of those men without those magic freaks to play with! Did I mention that once…” she launched into a lengthy story that involved a Knight Commander, Lyrium, and group sex, and Zevran could see Redren’s eyes slowly glaze over as he nodded his head smiling.

Eventually, the woman shut up, wandering over to an elven servant to grab more wine and bother someone else. He couldn’t help but watch her walk away, her hips full, having never once faced going hungry in her life.

“Okay, it’s nine o'clock,” Redren whispered to Zevran. “Just follow me, I’ll persuade her.” With those words, they began to work their way to their target, the Lady Redthorn. She was wealthy, powerful and beautiful, but unlike the other brainless women she entertained, she was known to be as sharp as an assassin’s blade. Zevran didn’t like these sorts of targets, and since they were out in the open, slitting her throat quick wasn’t an option. Unfortunately for him, Zevran wasn’t given any sort of instruction other than trust me, something that wasn’t as easily to do now as before. As his mind was racing with plans, he didn’t get time to think before Redren spoke.

“Lady Redthorn?” He began, his voice sweet, but lower than before. “As much as I appreciate the décor, I’m afraid I wish to speak to you-” he placed a gloved hand on her shoulder as he whispered. “- in private.”

“Oh?” She purred, a thin black eyebrow raised. “And what may this be about?”

For as prudish as he acted sometimes, Zevran couldn’t help but feel complete surprise as he watched Redren play something eerily similar to a seducer.

“I wouldn’t wish to speak to you in private if I could simply say it in the open, yes?” His grip on her shoulder tightened, his eyes growing slightly colder. “And I truly do wish you do as I desire, my lady.” The noble woman nodded, and Zevran noticed how she swallowed hard.

“Of course. My room?”

“That would be wonderful,” Redren grinned, his smile dark. Zevran had to truly will his feet to follow, as despite being beautifully and daintily dressed, the man was still a Blood Mage, and very, very terrifying.

As they walked down the darkened corridors, Zevran noticed Redren slipping a needle out of his long sleeve, the candlelight glinting off the smooth silver surface. Zevran saw Redren’s smile widen as he quickly plunged the needle into Lady Redthorn’s neck, pulling it back out in less than a second.

“What was-”

“Hush,” Redren whispered, placing a gloved finger to her lips. “Now,” he said, pulling a glove off by his teeth, “I’m going to ask you,” he put his finger to the tiny hole on the back of her neck, smearing blood onto his skin, “to cooperate with-” he ran his tongue along the blood-tainted finger, “- me.”

“No!” She whispered, her voice shaking. “I refu-” the word died in her throat.

“Now, if you’d be so kind,” Redren said, his voice dropping back to normal. “I’d like to see those papers of yours talking about how your precious family is conspiring with Loghain and Howe, and torturing innocents that stand up to you, okay?”

A whisper of yessir was hardly heard over the blood rushing in Zevran’s ears.

So this is blood magic, he thought, following Redren and Lady Redthorn nearly mindlessly. Everyone was right, this is terrifying!

He hardly realized they were at the Lady Redthorn’s chambers until she numbly swung the door open. She walked over to a desk, unlocking a drawer with a key hidden underneath a paperweight. Pulling out the papers, she handed them to Redren, and Zevran could see how glazed over and bloodshot her eyes were.

“Thank you,” he heard Redren whisper as he put his hands on either side of her face, giving her two quick pats. “Now, if anybody asks why we left early, it’s because I wasn’t feeling well. You won’t remember anything about what I did to you, understood?”

Yessir.

“Good girl. Now, why don’t you get some sleep?” At his words, Lady Redthorn fell backward onto her bed, long black hair sprawled around her like a pool of inky blood.

Redren turned to Zevran, letting out a heavy breath. He closed his eyes for one, two, three seconds, before opening them and staring into Zevran’s.

“That was,” Zevran paused, noticing how Redren hung onto every word, searching for approval. “Quite impressive.” Redren broke into a wide, dorky smile, leaning forward to give Zevran a sloppy kiss, the first one he’d given the elf in a month. The rouge on his lips smeared across both their faces, and despite the lingering terror he felt, the sight of his Warden’s smile pushed it deep inside. He could tell that Redren was ecstatic, positively glowing in the slightest praise.

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” Zevran laughed, taking Redren’s now bare hand.

“Good idea!”

And as they ran along the winding forest path, Redren holding Zevran in one hand and his shoes in another, Zevran couldn’t help but realize that it didn’t matter what his Warden was, what magic he practiced, or what he wore.

He loved his Warden.

[anotherramblingfangirl]

The fine art of reverse assassination

“The night wasn't particularly unusual for Zevran. In fact, it was frankly dull, with his dear grey warden having gone out with some of the team "muscle" for some task and him being left behind at camp with nothing to do but make sure his aim with his knives didn't get rusty.

Then he heard the screaming.”

My entry for day 5 @zevranology’s ZevWarden week: Character development.

Notes: This takes place while they're on route to the Landsmeet, Arl Eamaon having gone ahead to make preparations for when they do arrive.

SFW but there is descriptions of poison and past deaths. 

Also this turned out longer than intended.

AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11656236

*Thwack*  *Thwack*  *Thwack*

Get up, go over to the tree, collect the knives and then repeat.

*Thwack*  *Thwack*  *Thwack*

Zevran sighed. It wasn't that the knives weren't hitting the target, his aim was just as sharp as always, serving as testament that his being in-between jobs, so to speak, hadn't caused his assassination skills to go rusty.

Normally, that would be enough to occupy and even entertain him, keep him mind on track, practicing how to efficiently murder.

But it simple wasn't working tonight.

He was bored.

He was bored and his mind refused to remain on task.

In fact, it kept drifting again and again to matters such as the upcoming Landsemeet, and the likelihood that there would surely be many assassins present.

He'd been to such political events himself before, and was well aware that such occasions had an undeniable allure for a humble Crow such as himself. So full of opportunities to take advantage of, in order to make someone disappear.

But this time, he wasn't going to be there for a target. In fact, this time, he and the rest of the group were in all likelihood going to be the prime targets

And he...he didn't like that feeling. No, he didn't like it at all.

So he really shouldn't be letting his mind wander. He had to be ready, prepared for what was to come. Some assassins would likely not wait for them to reach Denerim, they were a relatively small group traversing down an isolated route, after all, an ambush could occur any moment.

So of course, his dear warden had chosen now to go off on some task or other, with the team muscle.

He had muscle. Certainly, he might not have those many shoulders like their rugged Templar fellow, or be made of solid rock like their glittering golem, but he was very lean and possessed a great level of dexterity that would have made him most useful on the quest.

And indeed, he made that quite clear to their leader before they departed.

But alas, no. He was to stay here and watch the camp while they went and got to have all the fun.

And on top of that, the hound had been instructed to make sure he did not try to follow regardless, a task which the four-legged fellow seemed quite committed to following through. He'd almost be impressed with the dedication, were it not him it was inconveniencing.

That was morning.

It was now quite late and they still had not returned.

Usually, by this time, he and the Warden would be in their tent by now, having another sort of fun.

But still, no sign of their return.

Not a single peep.

He tried to tell himself he wasn't concerned. The Warden was more than capable of looking after themself, their first meeting alone being proof enough of that.

All would be fine.

They'd be back soon enough.

So, for now, he would keep trying to drown out his thoughts with the sound of metal embedding in wood.

*Thwack* *Thwack* *Thwack*

And then the mabari started barking, howling in the most distraught manner before bounding off after something.

His knife that time missed widely as he wondered what the ears of his furry friend had picked up on to set him off like that.

And then his ears picked up on it too.

That was screaming.

Getting closer and closer, the source heading directly towards camp.

That was- no!

He was up in a flash and racing through the camp, rousing? yelling at the humans and dwarf about how something was wrong and that they had to prepare themselves now!

Braska! This is taking too long! He'd perhaps be better off just following the hound into the woods himself-

- It turned out there was no need. Just as Zev was about to go running into the woods, Alistair comes bursting out of it, screaming for Wynne.

"What's wrong Alistair?" The eldelrly mage asked, as Alistair grabbed and started pulling her off.

"Yes, what's he prattling on about now? T'would seem the man has finally lost it." Morrigan mused, but even she had joined the rest for her little camp and had a look of weariness about her.

A variation of "Where's the others?" was then asked again and again as Alistair again and again failed to calm down enough to say something more detailed than "something was wrong."

Zev and Morrigan were both perhaps a bit...harsher in their phrasing in most when they asked that question.

And then came the familiar sounds of a thudding golem, the mutterings of a qunari and the keening whimper of a distraught mabari.

"They just collapsed and started I-" Alistair put his head in his hands, voice catching for a moment. Faintly, just faintly he could be heard saying "Not again. I can't lose anyone again."

And, for once, the rest of the camp is silent, as the rest of the outgoing team returned.

With their dear leader slung over the shoulder of the golem, twitching, with some wetness dripping onto the golem from where they lay.

No.

"Something's wrong with it. It-"

The moment of silence abruptly shatters the second Shale starts speaking, turning instead into yells and thudding boots as they start moving towards Shale and the twitching figure that they carried.

Shale placed the warden down onto the ground with a level of care that would have been surprising had Zevran been paying any attention to that.

He was down on his knees besides his warden in an instant, examining them, his heart pounding faster and faster as he took in the symptoms.

Spasms.

Eyes glazed over, unseeing.

Their skin so hot it almost burned to touch.

Blood trickling from their nose and leaking from the sides of their mouth with each fresh wet wheeze, as they fought to be able to breathe.

This was...oh no...oh braska he needed to see the wound n-

"Out of the way!" Morrigan snapped as she barged in, knocking him out of the way, to kneel beside their downed warden, closely followed by Wynne.

"What happened?" She snapped at the golem and qunari, a sentiment quickly echoed more politely by Wynne, who was working on looking for the wound.

Zevran didn't need to ask. He'd seen this before.

"There was an ambush. They took a blow, but it was shallow enough that we thought nothing of it and continued on. But it seems that the blades of the assailants were-"  Sten started.

"Poisoned. This is poison. How long?" Zevran snapped. He needed to know how long this had been in their system.

Sten glared at the interruption, but it was nowhere near the usual level of intensity and disdain he had when interacting with the elf. "Hours. But the blood is recent."

"How many hours?" Not specific enough, nowhere near specific enough

"We need to get them to my tent. Morrigan, help me move them." Wynne spoke, trying to hoist up the Warden. Morrigan complied.

"Everyone else, out of the way, you'll do more harm than good hovering." She demanded to the crowd, quickly making haste with the other mage to the tent.

"Wait!" Zevran called, following after them

"Not now Zevran, stay put!" Wynne didn't even glance at him as she ducked into the tent.

Zevran, of course, ignored that instruction, ducking in after them.

"Morrigan pass me that elfroot we need to- Out Zevran!"

"Ah, but I wish to offer my assistance. I believe you'll find that I am an expert, so to speak, on matters of poison, after all." He fought to maintain a cool, blasé demeanour, but the smile was blatantly faked.

Wynne and Morrigan continued working for a moment, Morrigan genuinely ignoring the offer and scowling at him but Wynne...

"Alright. But don't think we won't be watching you."

That was all Zevran needed to hear, before he was again at his dear warden's side, examining the now exposed wound.

"What?! The assassin?! What's to say-"

"Do you have a better suggestion Morrigan? We can stabilise them with the healing magic but we'll need to know what the poison is and how to cure it if we want any hope of-"

Zevran tuned them out, trying not to let himself be insulted by Morrigan's distrust for him.

He had been in the presence of the Warden sleeping, had them alone with their back to him, dozens of times. All opportunities which he, as a trained assassin could have taken advantage of, should have taken advantage of.

In fact, he should be walking off right now, leaving them to their fate. He could claim credit, that this had been his dastardly plan all along and return home to Antiva.

All he had to do, was let them die.

Like he has so many others.

But he hadn't....He cou-

He was an assassin this should be easy, but he...

He...

...

The wound was no longer bleeding, nor did it seem to be leaking any pus, but the bulging veins nearby had taken on a putrid green colour.

He knew exactly what this was.

And it was nasty.

He quickly shared what it was with the women and the three worked together after that, for what could only have been minutes of hurried concoctions and cast spells but felt like days, weeks even.

Everything had to be so very precise in order for this to work, for this to save them and the fear of it going wrong was like a tangible weight pressing down on all of them.

He was to make the antidote while Morrigan and Wynne kept their leader alive long enough for him to do so.

...And kept them pinned down long enough for him to administer it.

And then it was done.

The blood stopped dripping and their shallow, rapid wheezing breathes, deepened and regained a steady rhythm.

They were going to live.

Wynne and Morrigan had put their foot down on his presence after that quite fiercely, saying that the warden needed some space to sleep.

And he reluctantly complied.

After all, what was he but a gentleman?

They would be fine. Antidotes weren't his usual forte but he was still skilled it. As skilled as he was handsome in fact, and he was very handsome.

They would be fine.

He'd seen them.

They had to be.

So now, he was back to doing the exact same thing as before: throwing knives and trying to keep his mind from wondering.

*Thwack* *Thwack* *Thwack*

Funnily enough, he still wasn't having much luck with that.

There was, however, one benefit to that particular failure to focus.

It meant he noticed the approach of the witch, well in advance.

"T'would seem that our leader wished to see you. I would not disappoint them, were I you." Morrigan spoke with her yellow eyes narrowed.

"Do I ever?" Zev didn't need to be prompted again.

He made his way towards the tent quickly, ignoring the slander about him disappointed the warden being spoken by the tailing witch behind him.

But when he actually got there, he paused, realising he had no idea what was going to be said.

"Well, get on with it then." It seemed that Morrigan was going to be waiting outside the tent, having appointed herself as a bodyguard of sorts.

Well no matter.

His Warden wanted to see him, so see him he shall.

And so he ducked in, almost tripping over the mabari sleeping at his warden's feet as he did so.

"Miss me?"

"Hi Zev." Came the reply. So they were able to speak again already. Sure, the voice was raspy, tired, but it was still there. That was definitely a good sign.

"Feeling any better?" He sat down besides them, putting on what he thought was his most charming smile.

That was quite the scare you gave us all.

A snort. "Feeling like shit, but alive shit. I heard you helped make sure of that."

"Oh, that I did. It was a more complex poison, I'll tell you that, but I'd see it used before." He said lightly.

Children huddled together as they were pricked with coated needles, not one peep made out of any of them. They all knew what happened if you showed pain."If you want to be a Crow, you need to be able to know your poisons. Identify and find a cure to this one and you pass your test, if not, then the poison will do our work for us" the Master has said. The weakest had nosebleeds within the hour.

"No match for my amazing talents. You were in quite safe hands, my dear."

"I know." A smile. "You're probably wondering why I set Morrigan after you."

"Surely because you missed my wonderous, charming presence, no?"

"That too, but I also wanted to say thanks. Thanks for helping to save my life. I appreciate it."

"You're most welcome my dear warden! But really, I had no choice! After all the effort I put into trying to assassinate you, for someone else to succeed instead? Now that would be an insult!"

A small, weak laugh at that. "Who would think if they saw us now that our first meeting was you trying to kill me?"  

"True, true." He quipped, his face briefly taking on an unreadable expression.

Who would indeed?

"But I must ask, that poison...slow to kill, it may be, but you usually start to feel it quite soon...or so I have heard...you did not notice?'

The Warden sighed. "I did. But I thought it was nothing important. I was injured, I was tired and I was hungry, it was all just getting to my head and making me feel worse than usual. We had a mission to complete so best to just keep walking and deal with it later." They paused, biting their lip in apparent thought. "Always been bad at self-care. Next time I get stabbed I promise to take it more seriously."

"Then that is all that I can ask."

They sit in silence for a bit after that, simply thinking and taking in each other's presence.

"Could you give me a hand?" The Warden asked, shuffling about in their bed roll.

"Hmm?"

"A hand up? Best let the rest of the camp know I'm not dead."

"Are you quite certain?" He asked, examining them. He would easily do it, but he just wanted to make sure first.

Then came that familiar, lovely, wicked grin. "Always."

And with that, two hands clasped firmly together.

They would both probably be at risk of being killed by Wynne for this: Warden breaking bedrest and Zev assisting in them doing so, but he was certain he could charm his way out of it.

"Then, lets."