#is saying this does not work. and she sided with the templars.

[potatoesandsunshine]

honestly the chantry is so funny. yeah god is real but he doesn't like you or you or you or even us. there is no promise of divine love or acceptance he will not care no matter what you do. don't even bother praying it's not gonna do anything. and that's your fault. that being said if you don't join our church we will kill you and sometimes we will kill you even if you do

[inquisitorismone]

ok so the point i was going to make re: the circle tower and ferelden geopolitics was that the fact that all of ferelden only having one single circle, is CRAZY. orlais, a country of similar size, has FOUR; each(!!) marcher city has their own. antiva and the anderfels also have 1 circle each and they are respectively #1 a nation the quarter of the size of ferelden and #2 a barren wasteland of a place. and this is pre-blight! and i can believe that ferelden has a lower population than orlais, but i struggle to accept that ferelden has a quarter the population that orlais does. even nevarra, by all accounts an old and dying state, has 2.

there are clearly templars stationed at many chantries throughout ferelden, but the idea that they could possibly find every single mage in the country and send them to the tower is preposterous. ferelden simply does not have the infrastructure for that, neither to spread out over the whole country to hunt apostates nor to contain them all in one place. (how many people can that tower handle???)

this suggests that ferelden is generally more lax about apostates than elsewhere, which is reinforced both in da2 and inquisition when we get word that alistair (in da2) offered refuge to escaped kirkwall mages in ferelden and that alistair and/or anora (in inquisition) allowed the mage rebellion quarter in redcliffe. you could argue that alistair's decision might have been influenced by the events of dao but anora is (i say this lovingly) a bit of a hardass! rather than being moved by mage assistance in dao i would suggest instead that she is reflecting a larger ferelden attitude towards mages, which is less harsh than orlesian or marcher attitudes

we know that mages in the circle can be called upon in times of war to assist their country's army (i think that was mentioned in dao but it's stated several times in the novels). something to consider, then, is that circles are not only for containing mages and protecting people from them; but they are also for the consolidation of magic as a military power. orlais and the marcher states are creating armies. ferelden, with its sort of implicit acknowledgement that the tower doesn't hold all the mages in the country, lacks that military resource. even in the stolen throne there's only one single mage working on the ferelden side in contrast to quite a few on the orlesian side

which is why it's #1 crazy that the fereldens successfully liberated themselves from orlais #2 crazy that they defeated the blight and, most importantly, it's why you should NEVER UNDERESTIMATE A DOG LORD!!!!!

[mothiir]

penance

the black templars discover human women. Nothing nsfw, only vaguely lewd, with canon typical violence and religious themes. Possibly will follow up with a smut if the spirit moves me

alternative summary: where is this strumpet so I might detest her with my own eyes

—

—

Isaiah takes his helm off to inhale the sweet scent of battlefield smoke. The sky is ruddy with dawn, and the last of the heretic cities is nothing more than smouldering rubble, the would-be rebels against the Emperor’s Will either dead or soon to be. Those too young, or too elderly, to have served a meaningful part in the uprising may yet find redemption as Chapter serfs or servitors — after all, there is little point to justice if there is no mercy to go alongside it. 

Sweat gilds his high cheekbones, and drips down his nape. Taking a moment away from his brothers to say his private prayer of thanks to the Emperor is one of the small ways Isaiah keeps his sanity during these long campaigns. He would fight and die beside his brethren with pride — and yet if he has to hear one more of Reuben’s jokes, he may consider —

No. No, none of that, not even in the privacy of his own head: he must be grateful, always. Mindful and grateful of the Emperor’s blessings. Reuben is a blessing. A hardship, yes, but so often blessings take the form of hardships; of lessons to learn. Reuben is an excellent soldier, and an exercise in patience. 

Perhaps it is the thought of Reuben’s damned puns that drives him further than usual, or the desire to admire the sight of a battle hard-fought. Either way, Isaiah ends up a good five hundred feet from camp before he quite realises it, crunching over charred bones and burned, unrecognisable standards.

Then: a sound. Thin, high, and vaguely organic. At once, he replaces his helmet, Captain Ezra’s words echoing in his memory: boy, there is no point prancing around like the main character in a holo — the enemy does not need to see your pretty face, and nor do I.

Anyway. The noise. His scanners alert him to a life form, hidden behind a pile of corpses. Humanoid. Rabbit-hearted, and trying very hard to remain unseen. 

He upholsters his bolter, and stalks forwards: a faceless, merciless instrument of the Emperor’s wrath. 

—

The clouds hang thick and red, like they have absorbed all the blood spilt today, and the heat is oppressive. A thunderstorm is coming; you taste it in the air. Soon, the rain will extinguish the last of the flaming rubble on this planet you once called home. It will fill the empty eye sockets of those who died for the delusions of your rulers. It will wash the land clean. 

And you doubt you will see it. 

As the Templar yanked you from the rubble, your shoulder had popped from its socket with a sick, wet crack; you had only kept yourself from crying out by biting into your tongue. Now your right arm hangs useless by your side, radiating bright veins of sheer agony. You daren’t make a move to cradle it, to ease your discomfort. 

“Your world is guilty of the crime of sedition,” intones the Templar, his voice as final as a tombstone falling into place. “Your leaders rebelled against the Divinity of the Emperor, and —“

”And I should die for it,” you manage, through lips gummed together with dried saliva and ash. “Because we let it happen.”

He pauses. The subtle tilt of his helm could be curiousity; could be an invitation to continue; could be nothing at all. But you are not dead. Not yet. Something in your chest is kindled, and you remember when you were little, at a school now nothing but ash, how your teacher would complain: that girl, she always has something to say.   

“We let it happen,” you continue, not sure if you are arguing for your life or begging for martyrdom. “We saw the upper echelons turn to Ch — the accursed powers.” Thou shalt not speak the name of the beast, you remember reading somewhere, lest thou invite it in to feast. “And we did not stop them. We worked away, heads bent and faces averted, and we obeyed orders, and the rot spread and ruined our world. I — I thank you, for your cleansing fire, for your — for His mercy. For bringing the Light of the Emperor to this place.”

You cannot curtesy, not in this shape, and so you drop straight to the ground, knees smacking into hard stone. You bare your nape, awaiting judgement, awaiting the blade, your heart singing against your ribs, that desperate song, that too-late plea: oh I want to live. Emperor above, let me live. 

—

“That is a woman,” says Reuben, like he has never seen one before. 

”Yes, Reuben, that is a woman.”

“In our dormitory.”

”Yes,” Isaiah says. ”She is in our dormitory.”

As this world lacks any proper infrastructure — due to the intensive bombing campaign needed to bring it back to the Emperor’s Grace — the Astartes have retired to their battle barge, as Marshal Ezra Rothenberg plans their next movements. 

Isaiah is honoured to consider himself part of the Edessan Crusade. There are more than two thousand of his brothers dedicated to the continued extirpation of Chaos from the Edessan system: a task that was predicted to take ten solar years, and yet is proceeding far ahead of schedule — due, in no small part, to the enthusiastic participation of the new recruits Guilliman so kindly provided them. If Guilliman hoped that the Primaris Marines would take the edge off the Black Templar’s well-known zealotry, he was swiftly disappointed. Within a few days of arriving, the only way to differentiate between the new recruits and their more seasoned brothers was size. 

Isaiah shares a barren dorm with Reuben, and three other brothers. They sleep on plain metal bunks, with a rough woollen blanket and a thin pillow. Other Chapters, Isiaiah has heard, are so decadent and spoiled as to have duvets — which are sacks of feathers — and sometimes even something called a mattress? Absurd. He pities his fellow Primaris Marines, shipped out to such degeneracy. He hopes that they can cultivate an appropriate sense of duty and decorum in the older generation. How can anyone value such petty things as comfort when the Emperor’s enemies still draw breath?

You are sitting on Isaiah’s bed, the blanket around your shoulders, your eyes wide. You have not spoken since he brought you here — barely whimpered when he popped your shoulder back into place. 

“…what is her purpose here?” Reuben says. He sits on his own bunk, opposite Isaiah, his afternoon reading (a hagiography of one of the more exciting saints) sprawled forgotten on his lap. 

“Chapter serf,” says Isaiah. 

“Do we need more serfs?”

”Yes. We do. The ones we have are — uh —very devout — “

The pair grimace. The fact that the serfs spend so long in prayer is to be admired, but it doesn’t often leave them much time to perform their duties. Isaiah is sick of doing his own mending because Serf Osric and Serf Jean are once more faint from fasting and all-night vigils to the glory of the Emperor. 

“Did the Marshal allocate her to you?”

Isaiah pulls an interesting series of expressions. ”Not…exactly,” he allows, unwilling to lie, and yet not wanting to admit the truth. “But he has been…busy, of late.”

”Yes. Busy. With crusading against the Emperor’s enemies.”

”Too busy to be concerned with this sort of thing,” Isaiah says, hesitantly, dangling the bait before Reuben, waiting for him to take it. Reuben leans forwards to better observe you. Isaiah feels a strange twist of pride when you don’t cringe from his regard, but meet his dark eyes with your own, your chin tipped up, your fingers curling into the blanket. Then you suddenly seem to remember who you are, and where you are, and drop your head in supplication. 

“Yes,” Reuben says, slowly. “Far too busy to be concerned with this. Don’t want to bother him.”

Isaiah utters a fervent prayer of thanks to the Emperor, feeling only a little guilty at thanking Him for his brother’s aid in deceiving their Marshal. But it wasn’t really deception, was it? They weren’t lying to him at all — they just weren’t telling him! Completely different. 

“Exactly! It’s beneath his concern.”

”She’s beneath his concern!”

In total accord, both Templars grin at each other, before hurriedly smoothing their faces into expressions of solemn piety. 

“Yes, brother. I am glad that the Emperor has seen fit to deliver unto us a — hang on, can you sew?” Reuben says, addressing you directly. You glance up at Isaiah, then stammer:

“Y-yes my lord —“

“Excellent.”

Reuben kicks up and off his bunk, rummages in the steel box that contains all his worldly possessions, then throws a wad of fabric at you. It unfurls into a dozen pairs of socks that look very much worse for wear.

“Start with those. Then my tunic needs restitching — the Emperor’s Most Holy Iconography is starting to get a bit tattered. Then —“

”Brother Reuben, you cannot hog the new serf —“

”I am offering her the chance to redeem the sins of her forefathers and mothers with holy labour.“

“Well, yes,” Isaiah protests. “But the holy labour cannot just be confined to your menial tasks—“

”Why — do you have menial tasks that need attending to?”

”Yes!” Isaiah says, thinking of his own increasing pile of ragged undergarments. “You can mend Brother Reuben’s socks, and then you must attend to my laundry —“

”And then she can mend my tunic —“

”No, then she must pray,” Isaiah says, belatedly remembering the importance of even the most lowly baselines in adding their voices to the Emperor’s endless praises. “And attend chapel —“

”Where Marshal Ezra may behold her?” Brother Reuben says. “The serf that we do not strictly speaking have, as she has not been allocated to us?”

Ah. Yes. He had forgotten about that.

”She must pray while she works,” Isiaih amends. “And abase herself before the Emperor’s mercy.”

”Yes. But pray quietly.”

”Do you know the appropriate psalms to recite while conducting your redemptive labour?” Isaiah says. You chew your lip.

“The correct litanies while uh…mending the socks of the Emperor’s chosen may have not been included in my education,” you say. Isaiah sighs. Truly, you came from a blighted world. 

“You will learn them,” he says. “The Emperor will guide your tongue. If you fail to learn them then it is a sign that you have not received His Grace, and in that case fear not — we will deliver unto you the Emperor’s Mercy.”

“She will learn them,” Brother Reuben says, with a fervent and touching belief in humanity’s dedication to the Emperor.

 Or, perhaps, a fervent desire to have socks without holes in them. 

—

And so it goes. The Emperor sees fit to decree that the brothers that share Reuben and Isaiah’s quarters remain on the planet to build a chapter monastery there, taking advantage of the natural resources that are now free for use. No new brothers are installed in the dormitory — a great shame, of course, but it does have the benefit of ensuring that Brother Reuben and Isiaiah do not have to face awkward questions about your presence. 

Isiaiah has never been in close contact with baseline humans before, save the serfs aboard the fleet, and he knows that it is his duty to ensure that you are free of Chaos’s taint, and suitably devoted to the God Emperor. As such, he ensures that you have the appropriate reading material, and tests you to ensure that you can recite the benedictions. The first time you stumbled over an incorrect word, he had sighed deeply and sorrowfully, reaching for his bolter. Brother Reuben had dragged him to the side and explained — in hurried whispers — that humans do not have the same eidetic memory as Astartes, and the misstep was not indicative of a lapse in faith but simply a sign of your humanity. 

Fascinating. 

There are other baseline issues that surprise both brothers. They sleep perfectly well on their hard metal bed frames, and their serfs often deliberately braid thistles into their blankets in order to better scourge their flesh for the sin of being mortal. You, however, suffer greatly for the first few days. You end up with deep purple shadows beneath your eyes, and you wince when performing even the simplest of tasks. 

“I am sorry my lords,” you stammer, when Isaiah confronts you on your constant yawning. “It is just — I am cursed to be a woman, and thus I do not have the fortitude that you have, and my body is frail and weak and cannot find rest in the blessed conditions that you enjoy.”

Reuben magnanimously permits you the use of a blanket and two of the pillows left by his brothers. Isaiah thinks that pandering to your body’s frailty could well be slowing your path to redemption, but he bows to his brother’s greater knowledge. 

He is perturbed by how much you rest — as much as six hours a night, if you are permitted to sleep continuously. Once again, Reuben explains that this is normal for the baselines. Besides, if Isaiah wants devout serfs, he is more than welcome to once more entrust his care to Osric and Jean. 

Isaiah stops questioning your rest hours swiftly. He does not want to go back to the days of having to convince a flagellant to polish his pauldrons. Without the brothers seeking them out, the old serfs seem happy to spend most of their time in the chapel, or wandering the halls while caning themselves and loudly declaring the Emperor’s benevolence to all. 

Yes, Isaiah wants to say, we know He is very benevolent and very merciful. He also wants you to do your damn jobs. 

The first real challenge occurs ten days into your time aboard the barge. You drop to your knees before Isaiah, assuming the penitential crouch you always take on when you address either of them. The sight of you prostrate at his feet — spine a neat curve, head bowed, hands clasped — always makes Isaiah’s stomach warm and twist. He enjoys seeing you so keen to atone, so eager to please the Emperor, and to receive  His mercy. 

“My lords, I humbly beg your permission to take a moment to clean myself — I have not managed to do so since leaving my accursed planet, and I fear that I dishonour your presence by performing my duties while unwashed.”

”You have washed yourself,” Isaiah says, frowning. He’s seen you wipe your face and underarms with a wet rag, and you wash your hands every time you go to the bathroom (a sensitive experience for all concerned, given that one of them has to escort you to the nearest convenience, and the other has to stand watch to ensure no one sees you).

”Yes, but — a shower, my lords, that is what I am asking for.”

Isaiah sniffs the air thoughtfully. True, you do smell a little sourer than you did previously, but he has lived with far more odiferous people; Brother Reuben during his ‘bathing too frequently is decadent and an offence to the Emperor’ phase for one.

(That particular penitence had been ended when Marshal Ezra had thrown Reuben bodily into the icy plunge pool and announced to all that the Emperor suffered enough on His golden throne — the Templars did not need to add their stench to the tribulations He endured.)

”Humans require more maintenance than Astartes,” Reuben allows. “It cannot hurt to permit her to bathe.”

Still, they do not want to risk taking you to one of the communal showers, nor do they want to send you off to the serf quarters. Several of their brothers are already suspicious of their suddenly-improved attire, and the last thing either of them want is to face questions about your presence — or, worse still, a request to share. So Isaiah fetches a large copper tub used by the medicae for those too unwell to stand upright to bathe, and fills it with water, and Brother Reuben donates one of his scraps of yellow soap. 

“Th-thank you my lords,” you say, from your usual prostrate position; then you stand, a little unsure, eyeing them almost expectantly. The tub is set in the middle of the dormitory; Reuben is reading one of his favourite scriptures, while Isiaiah tends to his bolter. ”Uh — is it okay if I —“

You gesture at your smock. Isiaiah blinks at you. 

“Are you asking permission to bathe? I have said that you may — do not waste my time with needless questions.”

He turns back to his bolter, wiping the sacred oils onto the stock, murmuring the appropriate incantations to appease the machine spirit within. A flurry of fabric; a splash; a pained squeal. 

“This water is ice,” you yell, and Isaiah, startled, looks up. 

His hand remains looped around the bolter, polishing up and down, up and down — but he finds he cannot tear his gaze from you. The water comes up to your waist, but the rest of you is bare, your flesh goosepimpled from the cold, your arms clutching your torso. Your elbows press under your breasts, pushing them up, where they glisten under the harsh dorm lighting. As you shiver, one nipple flashes.

Brother Reuben stares as well. 

“Emperor preserve me,” he mutters, and Isaiah comes to his senses, turning his eyes aside. 

“Woman!” he says, sounding only a little strangled. “Cover yourself!”

Another splash. When Isaiah peeks up — just to check that you have ceased to offend the Emperor with your naked bosom — he is gratified to see that you are neck deep in water.

”S-sorry my lords,” you say, teeth chattering.

”You are a Chapter Serf of the Black Templars,” Isiaha says hotly, his grasp tightening on the bolter, his strokes growing surer and stronger, seeking solace in the familiar rhythm. “You must act in a way that is fitting for your station! Do not flaunt yourself so! You must conduct yourself with - with decorum, and modesty. Be demure! Mindful!”

Isaiah, a little breathless after his holy vitriol, looks to Brother Reuben for moral support. Reuben is looking fixedly at his book. 

“I saw nothing,” says the other Templar. “I am blind to that which does not beatify the Emperor Himself. The nudity of a serf has no bearing on my day’s prayer. It is as insignificant as the passage of a beetle along the floor.”

”Is that why you are reading your scripture upside down?”

Reuben does not look up, even as he turns the book the right way around. 

“Brother Isaiah, if you polish that gun any harder it is liable to blast a hole in the wall.”

”It is not loaded, Brother Reuben,” Isaiah snaps. “I am conducting my daily worship to the Machine Spirit.”

”Is that what you call it?” Reuben mutters, and Isaiah elects to ignore him. 

—

“Where did you obtain the uniform for her?” Isaiah says, the next day, his voice hushed. It is just after morning prayer-drills, and the pair are walking back to their dormitory to change, before their lunchtime prayer-drills.

”I — just from the other serf’s laundry,” says Reuben, casting a quick look around. The halls of the battle barge are more akin to that of a cathedral than a space-ship, with huge domed ceilings, and statues placed at regular intervals in well-lit alcoves. Isaiah normally takes great comfort in the stern regard of his immortalised forebears, but for some reason today he feels their gaze like a brand, like he is a neophyte and they are watching him commit some secret and terrible sin. 

“They do not fit her,” Isaiah says. Reuben frowns. 

“What do you mean?”

”I mean — “ Isaiah pauses for a moment, struggling to find the words. Emperor grant him Reuben’s lack of observational skills — truly, his brother is a sterling example of blind faith. “I mean…this morning. When she bent over to pick up the scripture. Her skirt. It — moved in a way that displayed her rump in a way that is most unbecoming to a serf.”

Reuben exhales, his jaw ticking minutely. “Oh? I did not notice. I do not make a habit of looking at the serf’s rear end.”

”I was not looking at her rear end!” Isaiah whisper-shouts. “It was…just there. Wiggling.”

”Wiggling?”

”Yes, wiggling.”

”Is our serf distracting you from your duties, Brother Isaiah?” Reuben says, in a tone of concern so genuine it feels like mockery. 

“No! I just — it would bring shame upon our crusade if our serfs are not modestly attired.”

”I quite agree. However, I would argue that our serf is very well attired. Covered up almost to the throat.”

”Almost,” Isaiah says. “When she bends over to wash her face in the morning, if you stand at the incorrect place in the dormitory, and you have the misfortune to be looking for a book on the other side of the room, and then you find yourself looking downwards at the incorrect moment so you may observe the flagstones, you will be cursed with a view straight down her sleeping smock — and you will see both her breasts, exposed quite fully! It is revolting. A blight upon the Emperor.”

”How hideous! We must of course remedy this at once.”

”At once.”

”However,” says Reuben, as they round a corner, approaching their dormitory. “In order for me to avoid benighting mine eyes with such a distasteful view, I would much appreciate it if next time the serf washes her face you were to demonstrate the precise angle that I should avoid standing at. For I only wish to see what is pure and just in the eyes of the Emperor, and in order to do so we must have a full understanding of where to avoid looking.”

Isaiah pauses for a moment. After all, is it not his duty to guide his brothers when they seek to avoid sin? “Yes,” he says. “I will ensure that I show you most where you must not stand, and where to avoid casting your eyes. And — if I may make a suggestion?”

”Of course, brother Isaiah.”

”Perhaps it is not the uniform. Perhaps it is the way the serf has learned to stand and bend. Coming as she does from such a depraved world, riddled with heresy, it is natural that she does not know the right and proper way for a servant of the Emperor to move. Perhaps we should ask her to bend over a few times for us, and thus we can best advise her on how to avoid unnecessary…wiggling.”

Reuben grins at the thought of guiding a sinner onto the path of the righteous. “Yes, brother Isaiah. I do believe we should.”

[teecupangel]

What if Desmond was reborn as Shay’s son and the same age as Connor

We have this idea where Desmond is reborn as Shay’s son but, in that one, we made Desmond the same age as Arno for that sweet, sweet angst.

For this one, we need to talk about the timeline for a bit.

Ratonhnhaké:ton is born in 1756 and Shay put his lot with the Templars the same year.

This means Desmond has to be conceived in 1755 before Shay leaves for Lisbon. Specifically: Desmond must be conceived months before November 1 1755. (If you want, we can put it his birth date as March 13 then Desmond would have to be considered around June 1755)

He returns to the homestead late 1755 to early 1756 and there was a lot of snow during the cutscenes during that time so we can say Winter Months (December ~ February)

Why is this important?

Because we have a prime ‘candidate’ for Desmond’s mother:

Hope Jensen.

Hope would definitely hide the fact that she’s pregnant and would never say that Shay was the father.

Perhaps it was simply a night of passion that they never talked about.

Maybe there was a sliver of ‘something more’ but it was postponed when Shay sailed to Lisbon.

Regardless, Hope would still join the hunt for Shay and she would watch as he ‘dies’ after failing to persuade him into returning the manuscript (maybe even hint on her current ‘situation’)

After that, she would never tell anyone who the father of her son was.

Desmond would be born in one of her gang’s hideout.

He would stay with her while she worked for the Brotherhood and he would know she’s an Assassin early on. Her gang would serve as both his bodyguards and his nannies when she’s away.

He would be 1 year and 8 months old when his mother died while he was taken away by her most trusted gang members, running away when she noticed Shay spying on them while she was talking to Liam. Desmond was nearby and was taken away while Hope slowly filled the warehouse with poisonous gas.

Desmond would then watch the fall of the Brotherhood and his mother’s gang as Shay hunted them down.

By the time Desmond is four years old, the only living gang members that he knows of are the ones who took care of him.

To him, Shay Cormac is the man who betrayed the Brotherhood and joined the Templars to hunt them all down.

The man who killed Desmond’s mother.

And now we have the setup for Desmond’s revenge plot (with a twist).

So, in this one, Desmond comes to Achilles around the same time Ratonhnhaké:ton does. Maybe he timed it that way, maybe it was fate. An important thing to note is that he has been making a name of himself by rebuilding his mother’s gang.

Of course, it’s less of a gang and more of a Brotherhood by its own rights. They stick to the shadows and follow the Creed and its tenets.

People see him as a genius youngster.

The ones who raised him after Hope died believed that he’s a prodigy like his late mother.

So he didn’t come to Achilles to ask for him to train him, he came there to learn about Shay Cormac and if he knows his current location.

This is where our plot can diverse into specific plot points:

(1) Desmond learns Shay is his father but Shay remains oblivious.

(2) Shay learns Desmond is his son but Desmond doesn’t know about this.

(3) They learn of their connection with one another in different ways.

For Desmond, either one of the people who raised him (maybe the ‘nanny’) knew the truth, maybe she was a servant of the Jensen family who came to care for Desmond, or Hope left a letter for Desmond to read when he was older if she died to one of the people who cared for him beforehand.

For Shay, it could be the good old ‘Hope Jensen had a son’, ‘said son is around this age’, Shay remembers they had sex around that time, and did the math himself. Or the Templars learned of the connection and informed Shay.

This would change how tragic this becomes, especially on Shay’s side.

Desmond’s side though?

He already had a bad father as Desmond Miles. His father being the one to kill his mother? Yeah, that just another nail in the coffin he would be carving for Shay Cormac, to be honest.

Shay though? If he learned that Desmond is his son, he would absolutely try to connect with him.

He would be the reason why Shay would return to the colonies during AC3.

So if you want Shay to be part of AC3 then Shay must know that Desmond is his son.

Or…

He learned that Hope Jensen’s son has been wrecking havoc with Haytham Kenway’s son and felt that it was his duty to ‘finish’ what he started.

.

Whatever situation they have, Desmond would be loyal to the Brotherhood. Not Achilles’ Brotherhood but the one he made himself. He’d support Ratonhnhaké:ton on his missions while suggesting Ratonhnhaké:ton join them.

Haytham would even comment on how their relationship is a bit similar to Haytham’s relationship with Shay but with the ‘roles’ reversed.

Desmond would clarify that he sees Ratonhnhaké:ton as an equal.

Desmond and Ratonhnhaké:ton would also bond over having bad fathers (although Ratonhnhaké:ton would remind Desmond that Shay Cormac doesn’t even know that he has a son so it was less ‘bad father’ and more like ‘bad Assassin’). In the end, Desmond would never betray Ratonhnhaké:ton and he has no memories of Shay being anything ‘good’ to him. Being his mother’s killer definitely soured their entire relationship before it even started.

So… it’s not going to have a happy ending.

.

.

.

Or, you know, Desmond’s mother could be some random woman Shay slept with and he found out about him after betraying the Brotherhood. He raised him away from his Templar business and Desmond becomes an Assassin anyway because of Ratonhnhaké:ton. This one’s angst would be the hesitation of fighting his father.

Pick your poison. XD

[thekingofwinterblog]

How to fix Halamshiral as a Zone

Inquisition is a flawed game.

I don't think there's anyone who is going to argue otherwise.

The only question is wheter you place it higher or lower than DA2.

One of the things I think it does better than DA2, is that it managed to give every place a soul, an identity of it's own, and at least a distinct, if not always amazing storyline.

The emerald graves doesnt have a very interesting plot, but it has some spectacular side quests, and atmosphere, inculding a haunted mansion, which might be my favorite possession based quest in all of DA because it shows much better than others just how dangerous untrained mages actually are to those around them.

The storm coast tells a story of what was once an important dwarven port, and shows how it fell and was repurposed over time.

The Hinterlands shows the aftereffects of the templar mage war, as well as solas stupid plan to give cory his orb, and the mage rebellion and an actually decent time travel story.

I could go on, but the point is, I usually have at least aomething nice to say about every single region.

All except one.

Halamshiral.

Halamshiral was the single worst part of all of Dragon Age Inquisition for me, and every single time I boot up this game, it's always the last thing i do before the temple of sacred ashes, despite how bizarre the game flows as a result.

And the reason is because i hate everything about it.

I hate it's unique attempt at side quests, i hate the characters involved, i hate the Orlesians who inhabit it, and i hate how this section tries to copy what worked so amazingly well with Orzammar and Denerim during the landsmeet section, and fails every single shot it lines up.

The ONLY good thing i have to say about this, is that it's at the very least relatively short.

So here's today's question. How to fix Halamshiral?

Let's begin with the three main players.

Celene, Gasparde, and Briala.

The big problem with every single option, is that they all suck.

Celene and Gasparde are both fucking awful people without any redeeming qualities, they have no charisma, and there is no prospect of the Empire reforming itself under either of them, the way Orzammar would under Bhelen.

Meanwhile, Briala is much, much better, but the problem is that we know exactly what is going to happen here if you support her.

Maybe today elves will have it better, but tomorrow, when Gasparde is gone, or celene turns on elves again as she always does all the progress will be repealed, and reversed, along with a few purged alienages.

Its an old story that's been told before in Dragon age.

In short, there is no reason at all to care about this overall plot. None whatsoever.

There were so many reasons to care about both Orzammar and Denerim in the same situation, and every single character involved had so much more charisma than either of these would be monarchs.

So let's fix that.

Starting with Celene, take the idea of her wanting to reform the empire, and actually take it to the next level.

Celene is genuine in wanting to reform the empire, and has already taken grand, successful steps to make the entire thing much better for everyone, even elves, giving them and serfs more rights, outlawing the practice of chevaliers having a tradition of killing unarmed city elves to graduate.

But the catch is, while she is genuinely making progress, she is doing so within the confines of the great game.

Celene has nonintention of changing the great game, no plans of wanting to remove this thing that holds Orlais back more than any other, this center stone of their nobility and it's culture.

Meanwhile, Gasparde is a different kind of reformer, one that takes the ideas he had of him claiming to hate the game, and actually doing something with it.

He is far less progressive, has no love for elves, is far more warlike than Celene ever was... But unlike Celene, his ideas of reform isn't going to act within the grand game.

He's going to break it.

Unlike canon gasparde, this gasparde is hated by every single noble family in the entire empire. His only support, and it's a strong one, is the army. The parts of the army that supports Gasparde, and they are a huge part, are loyal to him personally to the hilt.

And he hates them back. He hates the game, he hates the way it cripples the empire, and he wants to change things. Like Celene he plans to break the serfs free of their chains, for the good of the nation and it's power and economy if not for any progressive reasons.

And he'a going to start with Halamshiral.

For this Gasparde isn't merely positioning men to stage a coup... He's planning to kill EVERY SINGLE NOBLE in Halamshiral. Evety man, every woman, every child there.

He's going to reform this empire by wiping out it's cancerous nobility in one fell swoop, and install himself as supreme dictator to see his reforms through, and wiping out the entire Orlesian nobility that might have opposed him, french revolution style.

And thus the Inquisitor has a dilemma.

Unlike Orzammar, where only one side was a reformer, both of these Orlesians are... But you have to choose one.

Do you choose Celene? The more progressive candidate, who wants a more peaceful Orlais going forward? But who is not willing to get ridd of the grand game to do so, thus making it a permanent risk that all her reforms will be undone...

Or will you support Gasparde, and by doing so be complicit in destroying the entire nobility of Orlais, many of whom are not guilty of the shit that Celene and Gasparde here both hate so much? Gasparde is far less likely to create a peaceful Orlais going forward... But he will have obliterated the Grand Game for good and all, a prize that might be worth this Red Wedding style bloodbath.

Meanwhile there is Briala, the elven spy who has enough influence to allow, or prevent Gasparde's plans from going through.

Here there should be another moral dilemma, quite different from the base game.

Do you convince her to aid Gasparde, in exchange for the Elves getting a duchy of their own in Halamshiral? Do you then back her up with Inquisition forces and support, forcing Him to publicly announce her as such, and trust his own, twisted version of honor to actually stick to it going forward(Something he ultimately does), or do you throw her to the Wolves the moment things get rough?

Or alternatively, do you convince her to side with Celene, and bury the hatchet? And if so, on what terms? And similarly, if she actually wants to get something out of this, you actually need to back her up... Something you may, or may not choose to do.

And voila, here you have an actual story of intrigue, massive, lasting political changes as a result of the Herald's actions, and morally grey on grey choices.

Everything that Denerim and Orzammar had in spades.

Now moving on from the plot to the actual place.

Halamshiral has no soul.

It's a french villa on a mountaintop. Whoop de freaking do.

It has no interesting murals, unique art only found there, interesting geography, or anything really to make it stand out.

Compare it to Denerim and Orzammar, and the way they fleshed out the entire city's levels of power and criminal underworlds, and you see the difference.

Denerim is a very realistic, squat, squalid medieval city, with it's buildings built on top of every single bit of available space.

Orzammar is a full on high fantasy dwarf city lit up by a lake of lava.

Halamshiral is a villa presented as a city.

How do you fix that?

There is an artist here on Tumblr who pretty much showcased what Halamshiral could have been, if they had taken the idea of the Dalish(who were the original owners) taking inspiration from native americans(amongst others), and use that to build a truly spectacular city, which has long ago been paved over, but the structure is still there.

Make it a city on the water, like the aztex capital of Tenochtitlan, a marvel of canals and stone.

Make it this Venezia like city, with canals everywhere you look, and the entire city running on water. A marvel of Dalish city building, where they took something as simple as a couple of islands in a lake, and built the most beautiful city in the world.

And rather than just limit you to the palace, instead let you actually explore this city.

Expand the entire event from one night, to a week.

Let the Herald explore the city, meet the players, interact with the nobles, become friends with a few like you could with Ferelden's bans, which in turn makes the possibility of sacrificing them for the greater good hit so much harder.

Let you choose what fancy stuff to wear to the balls and meetings, rather than have this stupid motto of forcing you to wear one, pre determined outfit like this game had for some reason.

Let you discover the places where what little Elven Architecture and art still remains can be found, and talk with the elves who still live here, the descendants after the first elves the Orlesians enslaved.

Make the plotting of Gasparde and the positioning of troops be gradual, not instantly discovered and twarted.

And at the end, if you choose to back Gasparde, you mirror that scene from Dragon Age 2, where the Templars sail across the bay, and you either step aside and witness the bloodbath you just allowed to happen, or you fight them and be recognized by the nobility(most of which are horrible, horrible people) as a hero who just saved the day.

Have the venatori plot be to kill both Gasparde and Celene, rather than their involvement mostly be about handing the player the the easy knife for the knot of which monarch to pick without having to get your hands dirty.

Also have the entire group be gathered for once. Every inner member of the Inquisition just like at Denerim.

Each of whom have their own thoughts on the events.

Who supports who? What is the right thing to do? What is better for the inquisition? Are you staining your honor beyond repair if you back Gasparde? Does the Inquisitor maybe have a breakdown after witnessing what they just allowed to happen and they walk through the gardens or rooms filled with corpses? Maybe have the scene at the end with the love interest be about a moment of them truly comforting their lover in the aftermath of it all, understanding(or not) that as boss, it's your job to have to make the tough decisions. And now you have to live with them.

Or if you wanna go the other way, this could be one of the breaking points like Origins had. If you support Gasparde, Blackwall choses to tell you to get bent, and that he will die as benefits a knight. Defending the week, and calling you out on how you are just as bad as he ever was, a child killer who's going to run away from responsibility, to pretend you are some better person than what you actually are. You're a murder. Just like he was. You are just as responsible for the blood that's flowing as he was with that carriage back in the day.

It would have been a far more impressive reveal moment for his crimes, that's for sure.

Cole probably would be the one who would be second most upset, but wheter he leaves or ultimately stays should probably be depended on your other choices and your relationship with him prior to this, probably have his personal quest be the determinating factor of what he chooses to do.

And i could go on, but point is, this would be a return to Origins choices actually mattering. There were choices that could make or break a characters bond with you. Shale would not budge regarding Caridin, Leliana and wynne would stand against you if you choose to defile the urn, Sevran would choose to betray you for his old friend if he didn't like you enough, and of course the age old choices at the end of act 3 in da2, where you have to pick between templars and Mages, as well as anders fate, and chances are regardless of what you do, at least 1 person ends up dead.

If anyone reading this has any suggestions for how to further improve this storyline, feel free to share, but regardless, i think we can all agree that this is a vast improvement of what we actually got.

[howtotrainabraincell]

Imagine: Revelations Ezio falling in love with a young scholar and apprentice of Leonardo Da Vinci - Part 1

She had moved from England to Florence be with her mother’s side of the family, seeing as the Italian city was more open to women pursuing her interests.

Before that she had been in France and there, she met Leonardo Da Vinci. She began working with him and they got along wonderfully, when Leo heard about her plans to move to Florence, he entrusted the care of several of his artworks to her so they could be transported back to his hometown. To his original studio where she’ll run it for him and take in fellow artists.

They write back and forth for several years before the events of Revelations and the young woman convinces Da Vinci to share his work with all those he can. By opening up studios in well to do cities besides Florence and Paris. Such as Constantinople and Rome.

Da Vinci is impressed by her commitment, so he agrees to it. She goes to Constantinople and one of her trusted fellow artists takes over the one in Florence.

When she arrives in Constantinople, she’s nervous because she does not speak the language, but excited to get started. She gets lost on her way to the studio and while she doesn’t mind bc the city is beautiful; she realizes that she needs help.

Before she can ask for help a certain well known and beloved Turkish assassin sees her and offers his help. You guessed it! Yusuf Tazim. He escorts her to the studio, and they chat about pretty much anything and everything bc she was far off, and they instantly get along.

A note to the lovely readers: She already knows about the assassin’s bc she’s seen devices that Leo was working on for Ezio. Not to mention that when she was younger her father spoke of a man who saved his life in Florence. Giovanni Auditore. As a rich English nobleman her father & Ezio’s father met, when he was attacked by Templars hoping to scare/threaten him into financially supporting them. It didn’t work and the two became good friends. Her father was even there when Giovanni married Maria. Ever since, her father has always spoken highly of the Auditore family, even years later after returning to England.

Also note: She is a late baby born to her parents in her father’s early 50’s & her mother’s early 40’s. She was born in 1490 making her 21 (almost 22 - she hasn’t had her birthday yet) and Ezio 53.

Ezio sees her for the first time at the docks when he arrives in the Turkish city. She’s standing beside Yusuf coaching him on his Italian bc this man told her about his “Ezio de lalala” joke and she’s terrified it’ll get him sliced and diced LOL. Ezio immediately wonders who she is, drawn to her wit and the fact that she tried to encourage Yusuf to be respectful during their first interaction, not to mention her reaction when Yusuf got nervous and winged it...which means he accidentally reverted back to "Ezio de lalala" lol.

The woman shook her head as she face palmed, before patting the man on the shoulder and backing away from him. "Requiescat In Pace Yusuf."

The Turkish assassin laughed nervously before his head swiveled to watch her back up from him. "(name) where are you going?"

She held her hands up "I'm not trying to see you die Mr. De Lalala!"

"I got nervous!"

"Well, you certainly have reason to be now look at his hand!"

Ezio froze as the pair turned their eyes to him, before realizing that his fingers were meeting his thumb in a gesture all too familiar to him. He slowly raised his hand and sighed taking a step forward, "Da Firenze."

"Ah. Apologies Mentor."

She smiled as Ezio chuckled. "See! Easy." then her smile dropped. "Now I'm going to run before he slices you."

Yusuf laughed as his friend retreated from himself and the Mentor, "(name) he took the joke!"

She called out over her shoulder, not stopping in pursuit of distancing herself from them. "And in another minute, he'll take your young life!"

Needless to say, Ezio is very amused by her humor and also how adorably she ran away. After speaking with Yusuf, he finds out that she'll be around often because she also helps the doctor for the assassin's - working on the side as his apprentice.

He won't deny that he also finds her very beautiful - even more so with the few flecks of paint he noticed on her hands (the man's fond of artists hello to his best friend? Also not following cannon that Leo passed away in 1519 @ 67, he's still alive). Knowing that he'll have another chance to see her again fills him with excitement and also nerves, as it's been a little bit since he's been around such an interesting and beautiful woman.

Ezio certainly looks forward to his next encounter with her....

[egrets-not-regrets]

Guesthouse of the (Lost) Astartes: To Render Aid (3)

Erriox and Lenora provide aid to a lost chaos space marine and his young bonded human.

Dialogue spoken in the Gothic language are bolded and italicized.

Author's Note: This is part 3 in a multi-part story: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.

It is not the end yet. 😅 We get to meet some more characters though!

This story focuses on the relationship of a chaos space marine who is intensely bonded to his human and touches upon the issue with Black Templars bonding with humans.

Also, Erriox is a responsible space marine and does responsible things. And no, he definitely does not do it for his bonded human's approval.

Thank you @squishyowl for making the fic dividers! Also thanks @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Sirass.

Tagged:

@kit-williams, @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @shadowfirecat, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan,

@sleepyfan-blog, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @bispecsual

Tunes from the radio played quietly in the truck while Lenora drove through the snowy landscape. Her eyes scanned for signs of their bonded Astartes occasionally. They should be halfway there, she thought, judging from the familiar landmarks they passed by. Once they hit the S-curve in the road, the next turn at the intersection would be a clear shot straight to the base. And that was a well-built road too.

“Do you think my mom would still want me back?” Ben asked, forlorn and unsure.

Lenora eyed her passenger strangely, “Now why would you think that?”

“She stopped showing up a month ago. It’s like she disappeared!”

Ben continued, “I don’t know how to contact her. My friends tried to help me find her online, but someone snitched to my dad.” He ended with a growl.

“Ben, do not believe for a second that your mom doesn’t want you!” Lenora replied, feeling a wave of protectiveness well up inside, “She tried to meet you before, right?”

“Yeah…” Ben nodded, his voice quiet, “She used to wait for me after school before my dad came to pick me up.”

“Did she say where she was living?” Lenora pressed on.

“She said something about outside the Fortress? Something about where the kingfisher lives?”

Where the kingfisher lives? Huh… Lenora thought, trying to piece together the clues. She knew several locations where kingfishers nested outside of Steelix Fortress, but those are still multiple areas to narrow down. Maybe Ben’s mom meant that figuratively…

A knock on her window drew her attention. She looked and breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar figure running next to them. Erriox signalled for her to keep going. She smiled and nodded, putting her foot to the pedal to speed up.

*********

Elsewhere, the snowstorm died down as Malaran ran westward from the trail end. It wasn’t long before he heard the familiar heavy footfalls of another Astartes following him. He knew it was the Black Templar. At least this meant their plan had worked for now. He easily crossed the trenches following the Iron Warrior’s instructions and pressed on. It was tempting to turn around and fight the Black Templar, but his need to reunite with his bonded youngling weighed heavier on his mind. Malaran chuckled when he heard a stumble and fall behind him.

He was about to turn to follow the southwest road when he dodged to one side, a bolter shot just grazing his armour. Malaran turned around, firing back at the offending Astartes.

“Return the boy, chaos scum!” Came the Black Templar’s voice.

The Black Legionnaire snorted as he hurled the bundle he held at the other space marine. The templar rushed forward to catch the bundle only to watch the backpack and heat packs fall to the ground as the cape unravelled in the air. He roared, unsheathing his power sword, “You… and the Iron traitor! Where did you hide the boy?!”

“You don’t deserve to know, corpse worshipper!” Malaran bellowed as he clashed with the Templar, his chain axe revving. He couldn’t resist the Khornate pull for an exhilarating battle. His blood sang savagery and bloodthirst into his ears. It was a good night for a fight.

***********

It was uneventful as Erriox followed Lenora’s truck for the first hour or so. On the one hand, he was thankful that it had been uneventful as Lenora and Ben were able to safely drive through the snowstorm, but now that the storm died down… it was too quiet.

Erriox knew that something went awry. His feeling was only confirmed when heard the footsteps of the Black Templar running toward them. He quickly turned and ran towards the other Astartes to cut him off. Alarms raised in his head when he saw the raised bolter. Erriox fired a shot, hitting the Templar’s gun, throwing off his aim and drawing his attention to him instead.

*************

Lenora pressed her truck to speed forward, trying hard to ignore the sounds of the gunfire and Ben’s whimpers. Then it went quiet. Fear gripped her heart, what if Erriox… Ben looked at the side view mirror and yelled, startling Lenora out of her thoughts, “It’s the asshole!”

At any other time, Lenora would have laughed at that sudden statement. She glanced at her rear view mirror and felt the cold rush of dread down her spine. It was the Black Templar. Despite what looked like obvious injuries, he was gaining on them. Fast.

The S-curve was coming up soon.

With a surprising burst of speed, the Black Templar pounced on them. Ben screamed.

“Hang on!” Lenora shouted as she accelerated and steered into the sharp turn, swinging the truck end just out of the templar’s reach, drifting the curve of the road, and counter steering the other way to straighten out the truck again.

Erriox’s hearts nearly froze at the sight of the truck careening out of control on the snow-covered road before correcting its course. He raced towards the templar again, seeing his arm about to throw his combat blade, tackling him just in time to throw off its trajectory.

“Dagger!” Ben screamed as he saw the glint of the weapon leaving the templar’s hand.

“Head down!” she yelled back.

Can’t worry about that now! Lenora thought, gritting her teeth as she desperately focused on making it through the next turn at high speed. Both her and Ben screamed as the blade thunked into the truck, embedding deep into the truck chassis.

The Iron Warrior saw red, how dare this Imperial Fist knock-off try to kill his bonded! He stabbed his chain sword into the templar’s body, hearing the satisfying grunt of pain as his blade cracked through the armour bit into flesh. The power sword flashed as the Black Templar swung down. Erriox dodged, but not before the sword left a deep score in his pauldron. Both Astartes stood and charged at each other again, their blades clashing.

“Iron traitor! You and your brother will pay for your sins! He was not yours to take!” The Black Templar accusation was laden with ire and venom,

“It was none of our business until they made it so! This would not have happened if you treated the boy better!” Erriox reproached him.

“This one is mine!” The Black Templar suddenly turned as Malaran’s roaring dark form came swinging down with his axe, crashing against the power sword.

**********

“It’s Orca!” Ben exclaimed, his excitement soon waning to worry as he noticed the slightly unbalanced movements of his bonded Astartes.

Lenora glanced at the rearview mirror at the three battling titans as the truck sped forward. It was easy to forget how dangerous space marines actually were with how gently Erriox treated her in the time they’ve been together. Moments like these served a stark reminder at how vulnerable humans were compared to the Astartes. Like great predators in a sea of fish. She shivered, her hands white-knuckling onto the steering wheel. Hopefully the Black Templar was the only one they had to worry about.

“Will they be ok?” Ben’s worried voice piped up.

Lenora gave him a strained smile, “They will be.” They have to be, she prayed to whatever gods that were out there.

It was tense and silent as they turned onto the road leading to Steelix Fortress.

“One day, I’m going to be strong like Orca. Then I can help him fight the bad guys too.” Ben vowed, his voice quiet and resolute.

Lenora laughed uneasily at his naive declaration, “Well, focus on getting stronger first.”

**********

They soon arrived at the fortress gates, smoothly proceeding through to the vehicle bay.

Lenora parked and shut off the truck. Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, she slumped into her seat, letting out a breath of relief. Soreness slowly creeping up her arms after gripping the steering wheel too tightly for so long.

“Ms. Lenora?” Ben asked timidly.

She hummed in question, not bothering to correct him.

“Sorry for giving you guys so much trouble.” His voice was morose and full of regret.

Lenora chuckled and reached over to give the boy a reassuring hug, “Don’t feel bad now, we’re here right? We’re safe here and you’re going to see your mom, and Orca and Erriox are on their way. Everything will be okay.” Ben hugged her back.

“Besides, that was a good test for this truck and my driving skills.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “It was pretty fun drifting around those curves like that.”

Ben laughed, feeling more at ease, “Yeah, that was like the Fast and the Furious movie!”

A knock at her window startled her. Laughing at her own reaction, Lenora turned to see the face of Sirass peering in. They both hopped out of her truck and she turned to greet the Iron Warrior.

“Hello, Sirass! It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” He gently clapped against her shoulder in greeting, “Erriox is still out there?”

She patted his armoured gauntlet affectionately, but her eyes couldn’t meet his gaze, “He and Malaran were still fighting the Black Templar when we left.”

“Brother Alcyon is on his way to meet them.” He replied, easing her worries. She smiled wanly at him, “That’s good. Give him my thanks.”

Sirass went and pulled out the combat knife embedded in the truck chassis, “I’ll hand this over to Erriox once he arrives and see to patching this hole before you leave.”

“Thank you, Sirass. It is much appreciated.” Lenora replied gratefully as she left her truck key on the dash before closing the door.

“I’m ready, Ms. Lenora.” Ben chirped.

The boy smelt familiar, Sirass noted “So you’re Amelia’s son. Ben, correct?”

Ben nodded, reaching a hand to him, “Yes, sir.”

The Astartes chuckled and gently shook his hand, “I am Brother Sirass and I will be guiding you to the medical wing.”

As they walked to the medical wing, Sirass idly asked Lenora, “Did Erriox tell you about the cookies?”

She laughed, “No, he didn’t! Other issues were more pressing at the time. Did you like them?”

He grinned, “They were very good. He said you will bring more next time.”

“Which ones did you like?” She asked.

“The ones with the chocolate pieces on them.”

The oatmeal chocolate chip cookies… never could go wrong with that recipe, she thought. Lenora smiled at him, “I will bring more of those cookies next time. Good thing you told me.”

Sirass dropped them off at the doors of the medical wing, waving goodbye before parting. Lenora and Ben went inside, making their way to where there was a young man in scrubs manning the administrative desk. He looked up, recognizing Lenora.

“Hey! Long time no see!”

“Hey Eric! It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

Eric waved his hand nonchalantly, “You know, the usual. Always learning. Coffee’s my savior.” Lenora laughed.

Standing up, the medical technician finally got a good look at Ben, who’s hair just crested the top of the desk and had been silent up until now, “Hey! You’re Amelia’s son! You are so much taller than I expected. She talks a lot about you, you know!” He cheerfully greeted him, “Apothecary Osteron is expecting you guys. Room One, if you please. Lenora, you can go with him.”

“Thanks Eric.” Lenora nodded as she directed Ben to the appointed room.

Apothecary Osteron was an imposing Astartes, what with the various medical implements attached to the mechanical arms on his armour and all; that and being one of the few marines that towered a foot above most Astartes at the base. For an Iron Warrior apothecary though, he had surprisingly good bedside manners with baseline humans. Thus, treating humans at the base tended to fall on him.

Ben shuffled in closely behind Lenora, using her body as a shield of sorts.

“Lenora.” His sonorous voice greeted her.

She dipped her head respectfully, smiling, “Apothecary Osteron, it’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you in good health. I see you brought the boy.” He looked over at Lenora at Ben peeking out from behind her.

She nudged the teen, encouraging him to move out into the open, “Hey, it’s alright. Apothecary Osteron is a lovely man, he’s the doctor that takes care of the humans at the base. Don’t be scared.”

Osteron chuckled. He recognized Ben’s scent, “He certainly is Amelia’s boy. She was such a shy thing when we first met too.”

Lenora grinned wryly, “To be fair, you are rather intimidating at first meeting.” The apothecary laughed at that.

“You know my mom?” Ben asked curiously.

“Indeed, youngling. She works with Eric here.” Osteron answered patiently, “Get on the bed, and I will check you over. Erriox said you caught hypothermia?”

Ben shrugged, “Lenora said I had frostnip.”

Lenora answered Osteron, her voice clinical, “Ben was cold and barely awake when he got to us, so we suspected hypothermia. Thankfully, he seems to have recovered once we warmed him up. I checked on his digits thinking there may be frostbite, but it only looks like frostnip instead. We thought it would be better for a doctor to check him over just in case.”

The apothecary nodded, scanning Ben for other injuries once he did his initial check, “The ends of toes are still red, but it is on its way to recovery. The boy is slightly dehydrated as well, but is otherwise fine, he just needs good meals and rest.”

Osteron addressed Ben, “Your toes will be sore for a few days, but as long as you get rest and sufficient food and water, you will be fine. If you feel your toes swelling or you start to feel ill, make sure to come back here, alright?”

The teen nodded, “Okay.”

Satisfied, Osteron patted his head and led them out the examination room, “Good lad. You can wait in the hall for your mother to arrive. If you need anything, just ask Eric.”

Lenora paused as she remembered something, “Osteron, do you know who Amelia is bonded to? Erriox didn’t mention it before we left. I only know that he is one of the chaos Iron Warriors.”

“Brother Alcyon is her bonded.”

She hummed thoughtfully as Osteron left them with Eric.

“My mom! She’s here, right?” Ben asked, his voice hopeful and excited.

The teen deflated at Eric’s answer, “Sorry, Ben. She’s not here yet, but she’s on her way.”

Lenora gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, “Hey now, you’ve come so far. You only need to be patient and wait a little longer. Your mum’s coming, and Malaran is on his way. Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll join you soon.” Pouting, Ben went and slouched onto one of the Astartes-sized chairs, looking comically small.

Lenora covered her smile at the cuteness. The medical tech gave her a clipboard with some forms to fill out, with a chuckle, “Cute kid. Here's some forms. Just fill out what you can and the rest we can hand it over to Amelia to finish. I’ll have you know, she works with me in the medical ward here. Lovely woman. She misses him. A lot.”

Lenora smiled sadly, glancing at the teen before grabbing a pen from the container, “He missed her very much too.”

“You were thinking about something earlier.” Eric asked thoughtfully, “Something about Brother Alcyon?”

“Yeah, something about his name sounds familiar, but I’m sure I’ve never heard his name outside today.” She replied then shrugged, waving the clipboard of forms, “I’ll hand it back once I’m done.” returning to sit next to Ben.

“You hungry?” Lenora asked the boy.

Ben blushed when his stomach growled, “Yeah, kinda.”

“No worries, you’ve only drank hot chocolate all day, but hadn’t eaten anything yet. Take a look inside your backpack, there should be food and water in there.”

Ben did as she instructed, “Woah! You didn’t have to put so much stuff in there!” he exclaimed. He pulled out a peanut butter and jam sandwich and a bottle of water.

Lenora laughed quietly, “I don’t know where you and Malaran planned to go after. Having some extra food and water is always good just in case of emergencies. Don’t worry about it, I have enough at home.”

She urged him, “Eat up and make sure you drink some water too. You only had hot chocolate the entire day.” Ben didn’t argue and started on his sandwich.

Lenora looked through the intake forms, filling out the blank fields where she could. She paused when she got to the address field, “Hey Ben, where did your mum say she lived again?”

“Somewhere outside the Fortress.”

“And… where the kingfisher lived?” Lenora recalled. Ben hummed an affirmative, mouth full of sandwich. It was then it clicked in her mind. She grinned, “I think I know who the kingfisher is.”

Ben swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, finally satisfied, “Who?” he whispered.

“Alcyon, your mum’s Astartes.” she replied, her voice, equally as hushed.

The boy pursed his lips in confusion, “I don’t get it.”

Lenora chuckled, “Alcyon is the latin species name for the Belted Kingfisher. Though the word can just mean kingfisher in general.” She pulled up the belted kingfisher entry in one of her bird identification apps on her phone, “See?”

“Oh…” Ben took her phone, looking at the picture of the blue and white bird with fascination, then swiped to another bird, “Can I look through this?” He asked.

“Of course.” Lenora said warmly, showing Ben how to back out to the main list of bird species for him to browse. She went to return the forms to Eric while the boy was occupied.

“Where’s Erriox? He’s usually attached to you by the hip.” Eric asked.

Lenora laughed, “Oh come on! No he isn’t.”

The tech snorted, “Well, every time I see you, you’re always together.”

“We make that much of an impression, huh? Maybe it’s only when you see us.” She teased him, her voice then lowered with concern, “He’s out dealing with a Black Templar with Ben’s Astartes. I am worried that they’re not back yet, to be honest.”

Eric hummed thoughtfully, “They’re big tough boys. I’m sure they’ll be okay.”

Lenora gave him a smile, still worried, “I hope so.”

She returned to Ben’s side. The teen handed the phone back to her, “Is there something for fish and marine animals?” He asked.

“I’m not sure, I never used it so never looked for that kind of app.” Lenora replied, “I’m sure there should be something available out there. I can ask my friends if they know.”

“Your friends are marine biologists?” Ben’s voice was full of awe.

“Well… no, but they do know marine biologists.” Lenora laughed.

“Then what do you do?” He asked her.

She smiled, “I’m a wildlife biologist.”

“Like you work with tigers and bears?” Erriox was not far off…, she laughed to herself.

“I work with birds mostly and sometimes reptiles and amphibians, but we also have wildlife cameras to catch some of the bigger animals. Would you like to see?”

“Yeah!” Ben leaned against her as she swiped through the gallery of wildlife camera photos. He’s pretty clever, Lenora thought, listening to him point out the animals in the pictures.

He suddenly laughed, “Who is that?!”

Lenora looked at the image of a jovial Space Wolf grinning at the camera. She giggled, “Sometimes we get space marines passing through. Some of them like to have some fun, when they don’t destroy the camera.”

“Ben?” Both their heads turned at the sound of the voice.

“Mom!”

[vigilskeep]

Out of curiosity, what direction would you have taken Cullen's character in Inquisition? Or would you have included him at all? :3

oh man well

first of all i’m not sure i’m the best person to answer the question because i am profoundly uninterested in cullen. even in dao, his most cohesive appearance by a mile, where he features in my favourite origin, he um... he sure is there! he serves his narrative purpose! i don’t know what else to say

more in the spirit of actually answering your question, i think dragon age inquisition is as fundamentally incapable of making good use of cullen as a game that would make cullen part of its main squad inherently must be. dragon age inquisition is not capable of breaking down what is wrong with the templars, which is why you get... i don’t know why people call it a redemption arc even in quotation marks. he just shows up. he still supports the templars, and would rather you go to them, who shouted you down in the street, than the mages, who by all appearances straight up invite you over. he has not had to face the consequences of his work in the templar order or his treatment of mages; for all intents and purposes, from his perspective, all he did wrong was not notice that his knight-commander was an anomaly who was crazy. he is fundamentally the exact same guy who told me to my face mages were not people, except he’s polite about it now, because this is dragon age inquisition and we all just need to shut up and come together to defeat the Real Problems. it is completely canonically possible for him to have taken part in two circle annulments, one of which he personally instigated. dragon age inquisition does not care!

so to take cullen in a decent direction for his character—if you insisted on bothering to include him in yet another game at all—you would have to be writing him in a different game than the one where the hero has no choice but to lead an organisation with cassandra and cullen at their side, where every challenge to that organisation’s divine purpose is laughed off. (meanwhile one seemingly humble elven apostate, who actually has entirely other concerns, is the only compulsory mage. no rebel aligned mages are even optional companions in the game.)

i am interested in what it would theoretically take to write a compelling ex templar character. my own inquisitor is an ex templar! dragon age is a series designed to challenge your ideas of what backgrounds allies can come from, and designed to throw in your face that, for better or worse, good or evil, everyone on every side is also a person who believes they have their own reasons to do what they do. but if you wanted the ex templar character to be cullen, you have to challenge the foundations of his beliefs as a templar. you have to make him... actually regret being a templar? criticise the templars for anything other than imperfect service to the chantry and impolite wording of their deadly prejudices? you might even want to consider centring his personal quest on, hey, the terrible things he’s done and believed, not on the harm to the poor little stoic self-sacrificing templars

sorry this is coming across a little aggressive. you see why i’m the wrong person for the job. i don’t like cullen and he was an antagonistic force in the previous two games who my characters felt personally threatened by. i don’t see why i have to swallow that he’s one of the good guys now without him facing a single consequence, much like cassandra, who was introduced interrogating my friend. (but hey, this religious army has good intentions!) and i certainly don’t see why you would not only do all that but make him the face of a ludicrously flat, wish fulfillment romance only available for women of the conventionally attractive races (available for circle mages! with a throwaway line about how she’s not like the other girls to address it!) to get straight married and settle down with a dog and a picket fence. (i’m not saying there is no place for wish fulfillment romances whose only stumbling block is cutesy awkwardness. but that’s not what dragon age is for! where’s the teeth! it’s representative of a wider tone change in dai that i deeply dislike and if i get onto it i’m going to make this post so long. and with this man?)

idk i think cullen should have been the rogue templar breaking rules to hunt wardens in awakening and sigrun should’ve got to cut his head off. the end. that’s my ideal. sorry again

[crossdressingdeath]

Oh. Right. I'd forgotten about that fun little conversation where Cullen tells Cassandra to nominate a new commander and she refuses. And there's no opportunity to say "No, you don't get to make that call, you will nominate a new commander, that is an order". Genuinely, for all that Quiz is supposedly the most powerful person in Thedas it really does feel like they're trapped under the advisors' and Cassandra's control! This is my organization, Cullen is my commander (against my will, but even so); why the fuck does Cassandra get the final say on whether or not Meredith's right-hand-man currently going through withdrawal stays as commander?! Shouldn't that be the decision of... oh, I don't know, the Inquisitor?!

For once in his entire fucking life Cullen is putting someone else above himself. He looks at himself and his situation and says "No, this is not a position I should be in, it's not good for me or the Inquisition", and Bioware chooses this occasion to not let the player side with their special, special boy? The one time he's actually right? He's going through withdrawal. For five whole seconds it seems to actually be affecting him. He's not in any state to be leading armies and he knows it. And beyond that I reiterate my usual point of Meredith's second-in-command, leader of her death squads already being quite possibly the worst possible choice for a prominent member of the Inquisition if they want to appear even neutral in the mage/Templar conflict, which as a peacekeeping force they really should. He shouldn't be commander, and now he doesn't want to be commander, and if you like him it's also clear that it's getting increasingly unhealthy for him to be commander, so why can't Quiz just tell Cassandra that she doesn't get to just decide that their commander should be a high-ranking Templar going through withdrawal?! She should not have that power! She isn't even one of the Inquisitor's official advisors or seconds-in-command, much less the one in charge! It's not good for Cullen to be in such a high-stress position, it's not good for the Inquisition to have one of the leaders of the atrocities in Kirkwall in such a prominent role, and if your Inquisitor is a mage (or an elf, given the whole thing about Templars being sent in to harass and sometimes slaughter the Dalish for the local lord/the Chantry) it's not good for them to be forced to work so closely with someone who was part of the group largely responsible for oppressing them and who still clearly shares the beliefs of that group! He shouldn't be the commander for so many reasons, and many Inquisitors have good reason not to want him as the commander, so why does Cassandra get to unilaterally decide that he stays?

[queen-scribbles]

1, 2, 4 & 12 for the Veilguard ask!

1.What was the first Dragon Age game you played?

Oh, I've been in this dumpster since DA:O. :P Watched the trailers and interviews and everything leading up to release and everything.

2. Which Dragon Age game is your favorite so far?

Can I count Awakening as a separate game from DA:O to say that? Or is that cheating bc it's an expansion? Bc that's my favorite.

4. What does your worldstate look like going into DAV?

Let's see here....

Canon is Warden Rahna Tabris, dual wielding rogue(duelist, ranger, shadow). She romanced Alistair, sided with the mages, defeated/banished the desire demon to free Connor, made peace between Dalish & Werewolves(/humans, bc the curse broke), destroyed the Anvil, and made Bhelen king. Worked her way up to getting kicked out of Herran and Wade's shop with various dragon armors. Let Anora keep the throne, turned down Morrigan's ritual aaaaand Alistair sacrificed himself killing the Archdemon. :) In Awakening, she recruited everybody, upgraded the Vigil so she protected Amaranthine and it was fine, killed the Architect.

Astrid Hawke, blue mage, Force magic specialization, Warden Carver, max friendship with everyone except Merrill and Sebastian. Rivalmance with Sebastian bc she thinks he can do more good ruling a city than sequestering in a church(it's HARD to rival Sebastian as a goody-two-shoes, y'all). Executed Anders bc she did not spend seven years as a living example that mages can be normal productive non-dangerous members of society just for him to quite literally blow it up in her face. :))) Sided with the Templars bc I wanted her to be Vicountess/Princess intending to do damage control, quickly realized that was maybe an oopsie bc of how far gone Meredith was but TOO LATE NOW. :)

Tighe Lavellan, mage, Necromancer, romanced Cassandra and besties with Sera and Cole. Did IHW and recruited the mages as allies, saved Celene and forced her/Gaspard/Briala into a YOU WORK FOR ME BITCHES truce >:3(everyone underestimates him bc he's a goofball. they should stop doing that. he's very. very smart) Hawke stayed in the Fade during HLtA(I still cry about this occasionally btw, but it's insanely in character for Astrid so I can't bring myself to change it), he allied with the Wardens. Only killed a few of the dragons, the ones that seemed a more pressing danger to the area. Softened Leliana became Divine. I'm 97% sure he went into the Exalted Council planning to disband the Inquisition but changed his mind and kept it when he found out about the qunari and Solas bc he feels like Thedas still needs them, they just need to be careful who they trust.

(If I missed anything anyone wants to know, just ask. there's a lot of little details I probably didn't think of xD)

12. What's one thing you're hoping we DON'T see in this next game?

Well, one of them I already know is there, soooo the seemingly endless spawning waves of enemies out of nowhere ala DA2 were a huge pain(the only part in DA:I that sort of did that was the Exalted Plains with the waves of undead on the fortifications) and I'd like to not have anything like that.

DA4 asks

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

Here we are, at last, chapter 11! Now going forward, I will try my very best not to leave you guys hanging for another five months. To make up for it, I included a little something extra for you over on the ao3 side. I hope you like it 💕💕

////

Transfigurations 12:1

"O Maker, hear my cry:

Guide me through the blackest nights.

Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked.

Make me to rest in the warmest places."

Now that you've made the decision to try negotiating with the rebels, things begin moving at a rapid pace.  Josephine starts working her magic, sending messenger hawks with one hand and penning orders with the other.  Dora focuses her efforts on arranging troops throughout the Hinterlands, guarding the roads and protecting the refugees in case the Templars try to attack.  Mother Superion sends Scout Harding back to work with her best spies to infiltrate Redcliffe and gather intel before your arrival.

Within Haven's walls, the people aren't resting either.  Construction on the siege weapons continues from dawn until dusk, and an ever-growing number of soldiers train in shifts out in the cold.

Lilith doesn't try to ambush you with training again.  In fact, she seems to be avoiding you, leaving the position of instructor open to Beatrice once again.  She doesn't try to hit you with sticks, but she does gently reassert the Seeker’s point about your fitness level.

"We'll start simple," she says, greeting you in a set of warm fatigues rather than her usual robes.  Fortunately, unlike Lilith, she does you the basic courtesy of letting the sun rise before waking you.  Unfortunately, “simple” turns out to mean jogging laps around the frozen lake, which nearly does you in before you've even begun.

[demigoddessqueens]

assassins’ amoures

Fluff alphabet here for my favorite Assassins (and some Templars) to commemorate the 15th year and for Flufftober

Based off their names

E,Z,I,O

Ezio likes to be the equal one in a relationship, although in some more “spicy situations”, I can see him as a soft dom type. You bring out the better qualities of him, even light-hearted teasing aside. Keeping him focused and building him up keeps Ezio going. Even to the ends of the earth, he’ll do what he can to keep you safe and loved. When he’s in love, oh good luck to any trying to grab his attention. Thoughts are of you, with that blushed far off look, even Claudia and Leonardo are teasing him.

A,R,N,O

This boy?? This boi! This boyo is so in love he smiles non stop. Always day dreaming of you, reading pieces of poetry or romance literature that reminds him of you. Favorite nicknames are “my love, darling, heart/mon coeur” or personalized ones solely for you. He is every romantic cliche ever and then some! Adorkably a badass! When he’s not being an Assassin, he’s off in the gardens or taking strolls, and you’re always by his side. Arms linked.

S,H,A,Y 🚢 🌊

On the seas, Shay likes to sit out and spend time with you on the deck. On land, maybe a romantic walk at night. Given how this man left the Colonial Assassins and knew the Templars, there are most definitely secrets that can cause a rift but he claims to do so to protect you. That being said, he’s your hype man! Always guiding you and building you up, since he didn’t have a lot of that from someone he genuinely loves. When he’s away missing you, oh he’s an emotional wreck. Not showing it outwardly, but it’s a storm cloud inside him.

B,A,Y,E,K

Seeing you shoot off an arrow, the sun gleaming in your eyes and hair, you have never looked more ethereal than in this moment. Your strength and focus never fail to amaze Bayek. He sees you as his equal in all matters, though his kisses say otherwise. Passionate and all consuming of your being. Yet even such a focused man is keen to matters of the heart, and his calls for you when he finds the Order and is taken away for his work.

H,A,Y,T,M

A traditional man of sorts, Haytham likes to you spoil you in such ways. Fine clothes and some jewelry, along with long walks in town squares to show you off (in his own way). Being the significant other of the leader of Templars means you are privy to secrets, but Haytham has his reasons (at least he likes to think so). Aside from that, he adores your wit and humor and when away, likes to imagine the fun banter you two would have. He would absolutely be the type to want to marry you, falling into a peaceful domestic routine of sorts.

A,M,U,N,E,T (Aya)

Before and after becoming a Hidden One, Aya admired your presence. You were there for her through the worst of times and when she founded the Assassin’s with Bayek. Being her spouse, co-founder, fellow partner in crime means you have a leader of a wife who also enjoys a good time. She adores you, and you her, calling each other “my love” or “goddess”. Traveling together adds a sense of thrill and excitement in new places, although if you’re ever homesick, Aya/Amunet wants you to share that with her.

E,D,W,A,R

Life on the high seas can be rambunctious but Edward can count on your leadership. Sometimes. When you’re not getting into the crew’s shenanigans. Your fun-serious side, with a dash of ruthlessness, is one of the many becoming qualities he admires in you. When you’re not cracking jokes or death defying stunts/schemes, Kenway does have a softer side to him. Going out of his way to talk to you, or when you sees you off in a distance, daydreams how you’re buying his favorite rum for him as a gift or protecting him. Do you think of him as much as he does you? Or do you remember the time he covered you with a blanket one cold night?

J,A,C,O,B

You had been best friends with Jacob, but even the laughs and glances couldn’t fill the you-shaped hole in his heart. When you finally got together, there was never a shortage of admiration on his part about all that he admires about you, including your fun side. That being said, he’s a passionate man who is not shy about making it known how he feels about you, despite Evie’s teasing, and if a Rook tries to get chummy with you they find out real fast! Maybe laying it on a bit thick with the compliments but you know he’s genuine. He likes to scale the rooftops with you to get the best views, especially at sunset. If you ever have nightmares/panic attacks, Jacob knows what that feels like and he’s more than willing to help you through it.

C,O,N,R

Connor didn’t expect to fall in love after trying to rebuild, but you were a welcomed exception in his life. When he first started catching feelings, he thought it was subtle until your eyes met his and he turned away with a blush creeping on his cheeks. He may not be the most traditional romantic but once you realize what he’s doing, you’re touched by how sweet he is. Once you’re together, Connor’s little nicknames for you are along the lines of “love, dove” or maybe something floral. If you ever have nightmares/panic attacks, that soothing voice calms you down as he holds you close.

E,V,I

Unlike her twin, Evie likes to think she was refined and focused until she met you. Then her more carefree, free-spirited fluoridated when she spent more time with you. Jacob likes to tease that you’re a “bad influence”. She sees you as her equal in every way and comes to realize that even in the most trying times, she can let her walls down for you. She values you, in all ways a loving significant other can: your opinions, your ideas, your wants.

K,A,S,N,D,R

Kassandra is a woman who’s naturally curious and takes an interest your activities/hobbies, be it pottery or sword sparring. Her kisses are heated, gripping to you as if you’re her tether. She imagines a simple life with you at times, living out the rest of your years by the beach. If there’s anything you have set your sights on, your Amazonian love is in your corner 1000%. Romance is not her strongest suit, but you know she tries and that’s all that matters. I don’t know Ancient Greek dialect, but I’d imagine nicknames would be something like “sweetie” or “darling”.

A,L,E,X,I,O,S

Alexios did not expect to have a family again (Kassandra and his mother), let alone the heart of you. He respects and values you as his equal, and all that you do. He enjoys hunting, sailing and some sparring with you, and encourages you if you want to improve yourself. After settling down, your presence inspires him to be more at peace. He doesn’t have to be closed off or hesitant or the simplest actions. When he confessed, Alexios gripped tightly onto you, pouring every ounce of his soul into words. You gladly accept, and soon are pulled close to him in the tightest hug and sweetest kiss. After that, you could be doing the most mundane thing and Alexios looks at you as if you’re Queen of Olympus itself.

E,I,V,O,R

Eivor admires you, loves you, their beloved and equal in every way. An inspiration to fight to see tomorrow with you. Not “showy” with their emotions, or the most blatantly romantic, Eivor still has those moments where they want to be near you at every moment. Making sure you’re well fed, taken care of, or warm during the harsh winters. You’re a much valued and loved person in Eivor’s life, someone worth protecting amidst this dangerous lifestyle.

A,L,T,I,R

Though he won’t outright admit it, Altair admires your skill as a fellow assassin in training (mostly as an excuse to be near you). As long as Maria and Malik don’t rib him that the arrogant “novice” has finally been bested. If anything, it indirectly inspires him to do better/push himself to which you tease him relentlessly, but he’ll gladly take it since it’s you. When he finally confessed to you, the tense pause almost killed him (fearing you’d say no) only to return your hug ten fold in an iron grip. Cupping the back of your head. In the younger years, you two daredevils were always seeking out the highs of being an Assassin but mellow out with age. Still, that romance never dies with affectionate banter and nicknames, and gentle touches.

A,V,E,L,I,N

Aveline enjoys shopping with you or even taking (much needed) long walks with you. She sees you as her equal, and values your opinion, be it for both Assassin and other non-related matters. She’s faced betrayal and heartache but you’re an inspiration that there’s always a better tomorrow, no matter how small some victories may be. You confessed to her one night, and it was one of the happiest moments in Aveline’s life, the day you called her “my rose”. One of the loveliest, genuine aspects of her life, Aveline treasures her life with you.

[himluv]

DA Review Series: Knight Errant

<<< Previous Review: Last Flight

Title: Knight Errant Author/Illustrator: Nunzio DeFilippis + Christina Weir/ Fernando Heinz Furukawa Publication Year: 2017 In-World Year: ~9:44 Dragon Verdict: I found this graphic novel to have a tighter plot and sharper writing than Magekiller. It also featured enough familiar faces to keep me very much invested.

Knight Errant follows wandering knight of Ferelden, Ser Aaron Hawthorne, and his elven squire Vaea. The duo travel across Southern Thedas telling tales of adventure and noble deeds, all in an effort to promote Ferelden and keep the peace. Or, at least, that's what Ser Aaron does. Vaea has something of a five-fingered side gig.

It's her penchant for flawless thievery that's caught the Inquisition's eye, and while visiting the new Viscount of Kirkwall, Charter approaches Vaea with a job. Break into the dungeons in Starkhaven's castle and free the two Inquisition agents being held there.

Vaea says no, that she doesn't do causes. But while she's been double-crossing Templars and dodging Charter, Varric has worked his magic on Ser Aaron. The Viscount offers the knight and squire an invitation to Starkhaven for Prince Vael's birthday, and Ser Aaron cannot refuse the chance to regale the Prince with his stories.

So, Vaea takes Charter's job after all, freeing Tessa Forsythia and Marius from the Prince's dungeon. But, the job's not done. Tessa and Marius were in Starkhaven to steal a journal from Sebastian, a job they obviously failed at.

Against her better judgement, Vaea takes it upon herself to complete the mission. But there's more than one thief in Starkhaven, and a Magister in Tevinter as their sights set on that journal. Vaea and Aaron must work together to not only steal the journal before the Tevinter agent, but also to pin the theft on him and avoid suspicion.

Overall, this was a very fun story set after Trespasser. There isn't much lore here, though. We know that red lyrium is still a factor and that someone in Tevinter wants to know more about it. We see Tessa and Marius again, which was nice. And of course I loved seeing Varric and Sebastian.

But the standout for me here was Vaea and Ser Aaron. I found their relationship very sweet, almost tender. I know they appear in later comics, though I don't quite recall the specifics. But, I look forward to seeing them again!

[teecupangel]

We have put Desmond in a lot of situations, but seeing the recent ask about Ratonhnhaké:ton becoming a Templar got me thinking: What if after a few years on the run, Desmond gets discovered by Abstergo early? But instead of kidnapping him, they set up a scenario, where Desmond gets offered a job by them and he accepts. Eventually they convert him to the Templar mindset(wanting order isn't a bad thing, right?) and maybe a cell of assassins find out about Desmond working at Abstergo and rush to try and kill him. This, alongside his shitty upbringing, gets Desmond to finally fully throw himself into becoming a Templar(he was reluctant before, Templars are the bad guy, that' what his father slways said... right?). He could even train with Daniel and become an assassin hunter. :D

Everyone knew who Desmond Miles was.

It was hard not to considering he was William Miles’ son.

But no one would ever dare say that to his face.

William Miles was a forbidden topic in the presence of Desmond Miles.

Vidic ordered it himself.

Daniel hated him before he even met him.

He only heard the gist of it from Vidic.

A sixteen year old runaway who didn’t even know just how dangerous the real world was, found by Abstergo because he caught a fever that left him bedridden and sent to the nearest free clinic which was, fortunately for Vidic, under Abstergo control.

And now he was finally meeting Desmond Miles, 6 years later, to be his instructor.

6 years was a long time to indoctrinate someone but Desmond Miles was supposed to be a skittish boy so Vidic made him his pet project.

A son.

He called him.

How laughable.

Daniel knew how that play goes, having been the focus of it before.

But unlike Desmond Miles-

No.

Desmond Vidic.

The name made Daniel want to vomit.

Unlike that idiot, Daniel had no choice.

The trigger they place on him made him kill the last mentor. He was the Brotherhood’s number one target.

And Daniel’s sanity could only be preserved by the Animus under Abstergo.

He had no choice and he didn’t give care.

Dr. Sung always furrowed her brows whenever he said that.

Was it the truth?

Was Daniel lying to himself?

Who knows?

Who cares?

What he does know is that he hates Vidic’s adopted son.

He had the choice.

He’s just stupid enough to fall for the indoctrination.

No.

He was weak.

William Miles and his lovely (his neck throbbed at the reminder of that bitch managing to graze the side of his neck, that sniper rifle only missing its mark thanks to Daniel’s quick reflexes and Eagle Vision) wife had made him weak.

And now he was to become like Daniel.

An Assassin turned Assassin Hunter.

He sees him before he even got to the meeting room they were supposed to meet.

A nice suit that hugged his form, most definitely tailored and expensive.

He could afford it.

Daniel saw in his files that he had a salary larger than a supposed assistant for someone like Vidic should have.

Another way to keep him in their grasp, he supposed.

Money.

Connection.

… Family.

Vidic really went all out.

Why wouldn’t he?

Desmond was the perfect Animus candidate. The scion of the Ibn-La'Ahad and the Auditore. What mysteries they could uncover from the memories of his ancestors.

Vidic was bidding his time though.

He still had other Animus subjects to torture and Desmond was better off hunting what remains of the Brotherhood in the meantime.

“Daniel Cross?”

Daniel’s feet stopped before he knew it.

Their eyes met as Desmond slowly turned to face him.

His lips curved into a polite smile.

The kind of smile the receptionist always gave whenever she had to talk to someone.

But his eyes.

Those were the eyes of someone who had killed before.

For a moment, Daniel thought that Vidic had ordered him to kill someone.

But no.

Vidic was more meticulous than that.

He must have orchestrated the situation in which Desmond would have no choice but to kill someone.

And then he would come in moment’s later, pretending he had rushed to the scene as soon as he heard, perhaps even bring a few men with him in an attempt to make Desmond believe he had tried to save him.

Yes.

That was more like Vidic.

Daniel hated the fact that he wanted Vidic’s acknowledgment even after knowing the man that he was.

And here was the boy who held Vidic’s ‘fatherly affection’.

Would he break if Daniel was to tell him Vidic orchestrated it?

Or would he not believe it and try to kill Daniel?

Daniel won’t tell him though.

Because that would only disappoint Vidic.

So he took a step towards the young man.

“Call me ‘mentor’.” He ordered.

Something appeared in Desmond’s eyes but it was snuffed out before Daniel could see what it was.

Annoyance?

Amusement?

He couldn’t be sure.

Desmond’s (fakefakefakehehatesitfakefakefake) polite smile stayed as he replied.

“Sure. If you’re into that kind of roleplay.”

Daniel’s lips twitched as he remembered.

The annoying thing about Vidic’s adopted son was that…

He was a brat.

(this can totally be the ‘prologue’ to this idea if you want to add time travel to it)

[pondering-gales-left-orb]

.

Look im Not really gonna write an essay on Why anders was right specifically but all im gonna say is its very telling to me that almost all the people who think he is right and justified are people who went through war and revolutions of thier own and the people who keep harping on and on about peaceful solution are mostly those who didn't

Maybe this is too controversial to say but its very telling that the same people after seeing the atrocities comitted by the templars and the chantry standing by them (inaction about oppression is acting in favor of the opressor) and think oh but cant we talk it out? Yes lets talk to the templars and ask them to stop brutally abusing the the mages literally tranquilizing them like animals lets ask them to give up the very thing that makes them powerful lets ask them nicely to stop the very thing they invented so they can use them not only for unlimited power but also sexual abuse totally lets sit down with them that makes sense! NOT (also not to mention that Anders HAS SPENT YEARS talking and sending letters and meeting with people and non if it worked)

If Anders and justice/vengeance didn't do what they did someone else would have this civil war was gonna happen anyway regardless of who blew up this is what they tell you from the start! but he killed people inside the chantry the sisters!!! you say to me! all the mages that were wrongfully tortured and killed by templars and the chantry do thier lives matter less? so Its okay to kill mages but you draw the line at the religious abusive authority....okay keep telling on yourself

If the chantry was still an influencing factor in the war the mages would have lost and been fully enslaved point blank period. Yall forget the ability of religion to make people turn off thier brain once it takes sides people of kirkwall would have watched a mage get unfairly publicly abused and publicly killed and wouldn't bat an eye because the chantry didn't even move a finger for them. Hell andraste herself was about to wage a war before she died to free the mage slavers slaves like did you think she was gonna march in with an army and then talk over diner with the salvers? Bffr

Also considering that King Alistair does the same exact thing and gives the mages thier freedom anyway and thats fine but when it comes to the kirkwall mages its all "but who will stop them from becoming bloodmages but who will keep them in check" like king Alistair said the mages can self regulate themselves they just needed the freedom and space to do so, blood mages exsisted when they were under a tight watch of the templars anyway that alone should tell you the templars are a useless lot.

Well i guess i did write an essay lol anyway im not really interested in debating people about this so if you were gonna try to "call me out" or "prove me wrong" save your energy.

[carnalapples]

How about "Own, Growls, Hymn" for DADWC? :3

Happy Friday!! For you and @demarogue for @dadrunkwriting, I have some (faint) Morrigan/Amell:

“What do you require of me?” Morrigan stands to her full height and Amell thinks, briefly, that this was a mistake. 

"I wanted to ask you a question."

“Speak it.”

Somewhere behind them, he hears the low growls of what he thinks are wolves but is too skittish to ask, and he can’t stop his eyes from flicking toward the noise. Something plays across Morrigan’s face then, her lips curving up in a wry smile.

“There is nothing you can do about them,” she says.

“I’m just not used to it.” Like he is not used to armor instead of robes, or to the open air and the itchy grass, or the way he is addressed as Warden above all else.

“Still?”

“I was in the tower for eighteen years, and out here for just these months. You’re clever enough to do the math.”

“And I thought you were a quick learner.”

“Did you?” Her eyes narrow at that, at the earnestness he fails to cut out of his voice.

“You cannot tell me you miss that place,” she rejoins, as if it is a fact that he cannot refute. Does he miss it? He does not know.

He knows that each night, he lies in his bedroll and he tries not to dream. Sometimes he will turn over well-worn sections of the Chant in his mind, as if he can ward off a demon with words alone, with the pretense of holiness that he has always been denied. Worse than dreaming, really, is the fantasy. Sometimes he will wonder what it would be like if he had been allowed to stay, but mostly he wonders what his life would be like if he never had magic at all, if he didn’t have to live with the curse of it. 

He thinks maybe he would be okay, giving it up. But then he cranes his neck to the side, and down by the fire lies Morrigan, who has never seen her magic as a shameful thing.

“You do not miss your own home at all?”

“It is not my place to miss it. Flemeth told me I must go, and now I am here.” She adjusts her robes tighter around her. “I do not believe your prison can be called a home.”

“It was my home,” he says. “Are you cold?”

“What?” She blinks at him briefly before pulling her thoughts back together, the barest hint of a frown on her mouth. “I am fine.”

“Take my cloak," he offers quickly, too quickly.

"I do not need your cloak."

"Consider it a solution to a problem, then."

"And if there is no problem at all?"

"Consider it a gift." He's already unbuttoned it, the fabric hanging limply around his shoulders.

“You are sentimental.” The way she says it does not sound like a compliment. 

“Is there a problem with that?”

“Sentiment is a weakness. Although not as much as love.” At his silence, she cocks her head. “A Warden like you still believes in love?”

“I would whether I were a Warden or not.”

“They fed you many stories in your Circle, then.” Another one of her pronouncements, and even when he disagrees, which is often, he finds himself coming back here like a stray dog, to the fire that makes him sweat in his armor and her sharp tongue which does nothing to help.

“They fed us well,” he agrees. “Though stories do not do much for the stomach.”

And then she laughs, and he is reminded why he comes back. When Morrigan laughs… it’s like the hymns the sisters would sing in the Circle chapel.

He’d work nights in the chapel because it was slightly better than in the kitchens. One gave you extra food, and the other let you sit down. He’d light the candles, organize the books, and let the sisters’ and the templars’ hushed murmurs wash over him. And Amell had always carried it inside of him, the knowledge that the prayers were really meant for others. They could carry the prayer and the lightness of being, and he would carry the power, the magic, the sin that was his to bear.

But the song belonged to anyone that could hear it. It was not the peaceful melody of Transfigurations that brought him peace, but Threnodies, the harsh slant of the words on his ears. There was a beauty in there, a raw truth. 

Sometimes Cullen would be in there, too, and even now the thought of him stirs something fond before he remembers. He only ever lets himself think of one image now: the candlelight would catch on his face, on his eyelashes, pale golden as he looked over at him. And sometimes he would smile back, and Cullen would flush just a little before he turned back to his prayer, and Amell never knew if he was imagining the smile on his face or not.

Morrigan’s lashes are dark by firelight, dark shadows deepening her face. Cutting her sharper, more severe. She slips the cloak off his shoulders, his skin prickling as her hands brush it. "You had a question, I believe.”

He always walks away from talks like these feeling like it’s his fault, somehow. For believing in things he shouldn't, for not being bold enough. He is tempted to tell her about it, but he cannot figure out how to articulate it. That her laugh is like a hymn is too trite for such a clever girl as her, and she has likely never heard Threnodies and it would all be different through her ears.

"I think I have my answer," he says softly, and at that, she raises her brows, just a bit. Imperceptible if he weren't looking. And for him, raised on fleeting touches and the reading of meaning where there is none, it is enough.