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wendynerdwrites · 1 year ago

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Chapter 6 of Dalish Ambition is coming soon. I had holidays, computer issues, and a bunch of personal stuff. Since I hate making people wait this long, here is the first part of the chapter. I find Vivienne intensely interesting. So here is her POV when she joins the Inquisition.

Art by @dr3adlady

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Vivienne:

Opportunities are not things the First Enchanter wastes. Indeed, she has made her fortunes from recognizing and seeing them for what they are and choosing the right ones.

When she was first presented at the court of Orlais, for instance, Bastien was far from the only noble eyeing her as a mistress. After all, she was young, beautiful, and, as a mage of the Circle, unlikely to give them any bastards they’d have to tend to. While she loves Bastien passionately and did then, she’d have chosen another if circumstances were different. He had the highest level of power and rank among her suitors, yes, but it went beyond that. He did not expect her to be a prized pet to entertain his guests and warm his bed. He was delighted by her ambitions and interests in politics. While other nobles fretted and feared supporting a mage becoming a powerful member of the court, Bastien delighted in it.

When she was offered the post of Imperial Court Enchantress, she realized that the position had been wasted. Her predecessors allowed themselves to become glorified jesters for comfort and security. She knew she could turn it into something great: and she did.

That filthy little woods witch may have come along and stolen her position out from under her, but Vivienne knows she can find a way back, and perhaps even higher than she was before. Truth is, she became too complacent in recent years. She’d allowed Fiona to become Grand Enchanter, for one. At the time, Vivienne saw the advantage of it. She wasn’t of sufficient rank yet to be elected herself, but if Fiona ascended, her spot as First Enchanter would be Vivienne’s for the taking. On top of that, it was a position that she could hold alongside the place she’d made at the Empress’s side. Despite her issues with Fiona, she felt it would do no good to be seen as quarreling with her superior at Montsimmard.

Now she knows she should have put Bastien’s resources at work and quietly undermined her. This whole “Rebellion” is a predictable disaster. Not just for her, but for all mages and the people of Thedas. If Vivienne had been Grand Enchanter when Kirkwall’s disaster happened, she’d have steered the Circles to deal with the problem in an effective manner that didn’t involve staining entire fields with blood. She’d have worked with the Templars she knew to weed out the corruption and abuse and established standardized rules for every Circle. She’d have made sure the filthy apostate Anders was executed in short order.

The problem wasn’t the Circles. The problem was that there weren’t properly enforced standards. But instead of fixing the issue, Fiona and her malcontents have torn everything down. And what has it led to? Certainly not more freedom or welfare for mages! More mages have been killed in the last three years than any similar period since the Third Blight. On top of that, all too predictably, they’re losing the war.

And what happens after? When they’ve lost. She’s had nightmares about it. Of her and her people being held down, the Rite forced upon them. Of children being made Tranquil when their magic manifests. There was some foul Templar lunatic in Kirkwall who proposed making all mages tranquil to Meredith and Justinia. Even Meredith rejected that proposal. And of course Justinia did.

But now? After years of mages running rampant and setting fires? Justinia is gone. Who knows what the next Divine will decide after all of the chaos and bloodshed.

Vivienne blames herself on some level. She got too complacent, too comfortable. She will not make that error again.

She’d counseled Celene to get Justinia to host the conclave. Justinia was wise, measured, good at getting people to trust her, and more ruthless than many gave her credit for. If anyone could resolve the issue, it was her.

Then the disaster happened. Unlike the Kirkwall one, this one was completely unpredictable.

And of course with every proper institution in complete disarray, there was no one addressing the hole currently in the sky properly.

Another potential threat to Thedas, and one that would further damage the safety and image of mages. After all, one does not tear a hole in the sky without magic. No doubt the rate of abomination has risen even further.

Which is why she started watching the Inquisition, the only group that seemed to care that the sky is ripping itself apart.

The problem is, they’re a ragtag group with few resources and weak connections who have much working against them. The Chantry’s denouncement. Their lack of coin, resources, and people. The lack of political support.

On top of that, their ace card, the person that can actually seal the rifts, the one now beng called ‘The Herald of Andraste’, is not only a Dalish elf, but an apostate.

The fact that she’s a mage could still be a great thing. If there’s anything the reputation of the mages need, it’s one of their own saving the world. But her apostasy causes problems. For all Vivienne knew, she could be a blood mage. Vivienne’s knowledge of the magical traditions of Dalish clans is limited, though not for lack of effort.

When she joined the Knight-Enchanters, she of course knew that the roots of their techniques were in Elven magic. She’d scoured every resource at her disposal to try and learn more. But even the mages she knew of Dalish origin didn’t know much: the whole reason they ended up in a Circle in the first place was because they were ousted from their clans as children when their magic manifested. They were never taught Dalish magic, and their “Keeper” and “Firsts” kept such arts to themselves.

She knows that the leaders of each of the clans, the Keeper, is always a mage, and that their heirs, the Firsts, are as well. But the Dalish are intensely secretive, especially towards any sort of organization associated with the Chantry. What reports and accounts she did find were often either contradictory or not particularly credible. It was hard to find a written account of Dalish elves that didn’t insist on some nonsense about drinking the blood of infants or sexual rituals.

The Dalish clearly had a system secure enough to make their mages reliable and trustworthy leaders to their people. For those allowed in the system anyway.

So, while it was more than possible that the Herald wasn’t an apostate in the worst sense, whatever magic she does practice would possibly be abominable to most of Thedas. And that could be a serious problem.

The fact that she’s a Dalish elf in general is a problem. How could someone sent by The Maker be a person who doesn’t even believe in the Maker? Vivienne may know little of Dalish magical traditions, but everyone knows the Dalish worship a pantheon of elven Gods. Being an elf is enough of a trial - all of them are subject to appalling bigotry outside proper Circles. But the Dalish ones are seen as nothing more than mad savages and heathens.

From what Vivienne herself has gleaned, the truth of that varies from clan to clan. One former Dalish she knew said her clan used to kill any human who came near on sight and abandoned her in the woods at age seven for being a mage. Another said his clan were merely cautious around humans and traded with any friendly visitor. When his magic manifested, his clan sent him directly to the Montsimmard Circle with an escort. His clan surrendered him on the condition that he be allowed to contact them on at least a weekly basis. Then there was the famed Clan Sabrae, who offered invaluable aid to the Hero of Ferelden and King Alistair during the Fifth Blight.

Not that these facts often register to the public at large. The Dalish are all the same sort of heathen monsters in the eyes of most.

A Dalish mage as a prophet and savior is a hard sell, pure and simple.

But the Inquisition and its Dalish mage were the only ones seemingly doing anything useful and the only ones with the right priorities. And, even better: before long it became clear that they were able to be quite effective with what limited resources they had.

So, when word came that the Inquisition and its Herald were visiting Val Royeaux to try and treat with the Chantry, Vivienne headed to the city herself to observe.

She did not make her presence known, of course. Vivienne knows better. If people saw her there, they’d start making bets on which faction she supported. And she could not have that. The combination of the rebellion, the loss of her position at court, and Bastien’s ill health have put her in too precarious a position for her to allow such speculation. No, she insists on controlling the narrative. No one will guess her position. She will decide and declare it.

So she dressed in regular nobility costuming, went under the name Madame la Croix, and watched the Inquisition encounter Mother Hevarra and Lord Seeker Lucius from a table at a cafe overlooking the Summer Bazaar.

Before the audience even concluded, she sent one of her apprentices down with an invitation to her upcoming salon.

It’s been a much easier decision than she anticipated. If the Inquisition seemed useless, she had another plan of course: mobilize the loyal mages to deal with the Breach themselves. But that would have been far more dangerous and possibly ineffective. After all, the only one with the gift to close rifts is the Inquisition’s Herald. Before her own mages might even be able to act, they’d have to find a way to recreate the Herald’s Mark themselves, something that might not even be possible.

Thank the Maker, she has been spared that struggle.

She watched the Herald speak, not only to the Mother and Lord Seeker, but to the crowd. And she performed beautifully. Her clan is clearly not one of the savage ones, for she spoke with patience, eloquence, and with an eye towards human sensibilities. She adorned herself not as an aspiring noble or a fierce warrior, but as a regular young woman. The people of Val Royeaux like elves to be humble. And while there was no meekness in the Herald, she made sure to insist that she doesn’t claim to be of the Maker, but simply an elf trying to help. She did so while calling out the embarrassing and pathetic conduct of her opponents, in some ways voicing the fears of the crowd around her.

By the time it was over, various city dwellers who had been shunning the Inquisition minutes prior were approaching them. They are desperate, and while Seeker Pentaghast seemed gruff and intimidating, the Dalish woman was welcoming and kind. She did not seem threatening at all.

Which, of course, makes her all the more effective an opponent.

Vivienne has no intention of being the Herald’s opponent. The woman is a delight.

Not that she intends for tonight to merely be an offering of services. Not at all.

First of all, she will be able to hasten things to get the Breach sealed. Those holes in the sky must be sealed with as much speed as possible. The more demons that are spit out, the more perverted magic is allowed to stick around, the more likely it is that they’ll all die horribly. And it will be because of magic.

She can offer the Inquisition much that it is lacking. And in return, she will be the first advocate for the Inquisition among the Orlesian nobility. And when the Inquisition saves the world, everyone will know her as the genius who saw the writing on the wall when the Chantry and even the palace floundered. People will see the loyal mages of Thedas as a vital part of the solution to all they fear. With her, the Inquisition will grow in influence, and her own clout will grow with it.

They’ll likely be able to get this rebellion under control once their power rises enough. And no doubt, the leader of the Loyal Mages will rise. Fiona the malcontent will be disgraced, and who should take her place then?

Vivienne sits at her dressing table and stares in the mirror. She hasn’t put her mask on yet. There are faint lines around her eyes. She minds them more than she really should, and more than she did before. What are wrinkles to all the chaos around her?

She’d started acquiring them a few years ago, when she was still Court Enchantresss, at the height of her influence, before the rebellion. Before Bastien’s gait and posture changed, when he could still outride men half his age. And when those wrinkles first started showing, Vivienne had actually been delighted. She felt it made her look more dignified and wise. Some liked to dismiss her as a pretty face despite her prodigious gifts. So embracing signs of age would be a statement of power for her. On top of that, she liked the idea of matching Bastien a little more.

But now, Bastien is wasting away. And she is weaker than ever.

Vivienne puts her mask on.

I am not weak, she reminds herself, I am merely at the beginning of my greatest challenge. I am still as strong, as beautiful, as talented, and more clever than I ever was. After all, tonight I won’t just start my newest rise, I’ve even found time to attend to another problem.

And that does make her smile a bit. Tonight, the Herald will not only ally with her, she’ll help Vivienne dispose of that waste of exsAlphonse.

It was Alphonse who created the faction to support Morrigan’s ascension. It was he who got that wild apostate her first invitation to court. It was he who formed a faction in favor of Morrigan becoming the new Court Enchantress. They undermined Vivienne at every turn, whispering that with the Mages in rebellion, she was the delusional adherent to a bygone, failed institution.

It was his revenge for the time Vivienne informed his aunt of his “hunting trips.” It was far from the only time he’d embarrassed the Viscomtesse, far from the only time he’d ended up being punished, and it was something his aunt would have discovered anyway. Still, the little shit became determined to destroy everything Vivienne worked for.

Now, it is time for her revenge.

It was fairly easy to arrange this. She’d started corresponding with Solange again, and brought up the Herald and the Inquisition. Lady Mont-de-Glace was neutral to positive in her opinion thus far. Vivienne merely altered one of her letters to read as if she thought the Herald was a heretic. Then she left said altered letter where Alphonse would find it.

The Marquis is on the brink of being completely disowned, so of course he immediately wrote to Vivienne asking to attend the salon that the Herald would attend. Alphonse is foolhardy, has all the subtlety of a terrified chicken, and is desperate to make some bold, heroic statement to get in his aunt’s good graces. He’s also dishonored and shamed, cast from the chevaliers. He wants to regain what he thinks of as honor. Now, all Vivienne has to do is wait.

There’s a knock on Vivienne’s door. Her lady’s maid enters. “Madame, the Herald has been spotted near the gate.”

Vivienne smiles and rises from her dressing table. She pauses before her full length mirror to smooth out her gown and make sure her hat is on straight. Everything shall be perfect.

She waits and observes from the upper hall. She cannot come out at once. She has to wait until the Marquis embarrasses himself. But she makes herself invisible and goes to the rail overlooking the entrance hall to watch as the Herald enters.

“Lady Lavellan, on behalf of the Inquisition.”

The elven woman enters, donning the same blue and white dress that she wore in Val Royeaux, though she has acquired a beautifully crafted silvery white jeweled belt. She looks less fine than the guests, but that’s a good thing. The nobility here find her a fascinating curiosity. All of her mystique could be blown if she was seen as trying to dress like them.

She chats with Baroness de Poir and Lord Devereaux when she enters. Vivienne arranged that too. Both are obsessed to the point of girlish enthusiasm about the Inquisition. Talking to them will undoubtedly make the Herald more comfortable, and it will piss Alphonse off more.

Right on time, the Marquis charges over. To her delight, he has brought his flashiest rapier - something NOT allowed in any proper party. That’s all the justification she needs to disgrace him, but he’ll go the extra mile to make sure that she will be justified to do whatever she wishes.

“The Inquisition! What a load of pig shit!” He announces, sneering. He crosses the marble floor as he continue to rant. “Washed-up Sisters and crazed Seekers! No one can take them seriously. Everyone knows it’s just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power!”

Vivienne will now enjoy destroying him even more.

The Herald reacts calmly. “That’s not true. I’m just searching for Divine Justinia’s killer.”

“Of course you are. I’m sure your army is out scouring the hills for her murderer as we speak.” Now he walks up to her, closing the distance between them by inches. Vivienne almost squeals. She drops her invisibility and goes to the top of the steps, marking sure her gown is smooth once more - must look perfect.

The Marquis continues. “If you were a woman of honor, you’d step outside and answer the charges.”

It’s when he reaches for the blade strapped to his back that she freezes him in place and descends.

“My dear Marquis. How unkind of you to use such language in my house… to my guests. You know such rudeness is… intolerable.”

He reached for his blade with an attempt to attack her guest unprovoked. Ettiquette practically demands his head. She, of course, must leave that to the discretion of the injured party, but she does get to play potential executioner. She walks up to him and unfreezes his mouth.

The panic erupts in both his eyes and his voice.

“Madame Vivienne! I humbly beg your pardon!”

It’s not my pardon you need to beg, you twit. She is adoring this. His life is in not only her hands, but at the mercy of a Dalish elf. For a scoundrel like him, that’s torture. And even if he lives, he knows life will not be kind to him. Even if his aunt loathes the Herald, she would not abide by this choice of venue and breach of etiquette. It’s a disgrace.

The last one.

“You should. Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?” She makes sure he can see the cold satisfaction in her eyes. Then she turns to the Herald.

“My lady, you are the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”

Lady Lavellan cocks her head and crosses her arms. “I think the Marquis has seen the error of his ways.”

Vivienne grips his jaw briefly before undoing her magic - slowly. “By the grace of Andraste, you have your life, my dear. Do be more careful with it.”

By that, she means never trouble her again. Judging by how Alphonse flees, he got that message.

Vivienne turns back to the Herald. She’s pleased the Herald spared him, and not just because Alphonse has a life of ruin and likely far more awful death waiting for him now. She’d predicted the Herald would do so, and she likes being right. This is a woman who understands that showing mercy at this point is good for her. Now, more nobles will speak of her employing Andraste’s mercy. How she will not even harm someone who threatened her.

“I’m delighted you could attend this little gathering,” Vivienne says, utterly sincere, “I’ve so wanted to meet you.”

She gestures to Lady Lavellan to join her in a quiet spot away from the other guests. They stand by a window overlooking the chateau’s hedge maze. From this vantage point, one can see the extravagant gilded fountain at the center. The entire chateau screams wealth, but the maze screams it the loudest.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle and Enchantress to the Imperial court.”

The elf glances back toward the entry hall. She bobs a curtsey. “Charmed, Lady Vivienne.”

Oh, she’s adorable. Her manners are actually quite exemplary, but she displays them without the same old haughtiness that Vivienne is used to.

“Ah, but I didn’t invite you to the chateau for pleasantries.”

The Herald seems to take this to heart, as she asks, “Is that Marquis going to pose a problem?”

Vivienne suppresses a smile. A good opportunity for her to display her political acumen, and some of her worth. “His aunt is the Viscomtesse of Mont-de-Glace. Not a powerful family, but well-respected. And very devout. Alphonse will be disowned for this. It’s not the first time he’s brought his aunt disgrace, but I’m sure it will be the last. And after such a public humiliation, I expect he’ll run off to the Dales to join the empress’s war effort. Either to make a good end or to win back a modicum of self respect.”

“I see. I thank you for your defense. To be honest, I was surprised by your invitation. I would have never expected to be so well received by a woman of your stature.”

I’m sure, Darling. It’s something the elf will no doubt remember and continue to appreciate. “But of course, my dear. As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it is only right that I lend my assistance to your cause.”

The Herald receives this information with careful deliberation. “You say you lead the last loyal mages of Thedas. Loyal to whom?”

She expected this question, and practiced her answer. She is an apostate, after all. “To the people of Thedas, of course. We have not forgotten the commandment, as some have, that magic exists to serve man. I support any effort to restore such order.”

Vivienne hoped that it would be left at that, but the woman is shrewd. “So you’re in favor of returning mages to the Circle, then?”

But she has an answer prepared for that, too. “Where else can mages safely learn to master their talents? We need an institution to protect and nurture magic. Maker knows, magic will find neither on its own.”

She does not press further. Instead, she asks about the Chantry. “Are you devout? What’s your opinion of the Chantry?”

An institution that is in dire need of being saved, and keeps turning up its nose at chances for salvation. She is careful with her answer. Dalish elves have little love for the Chantry for obvious reasons. “I was a great admirer of the late Divine Justinia V. The Chantry, at its best, unites the disparate cultures of Thedas and looks after its most vulnerable.” Vivienne pauses for a moment, trying to reel in the disappointment in her voice, “but had she lived, Justinia could have accomplished so much.”

Lady Lavellan nods solemnly. “Well, since I’ll be asked: What exactly can you do for the Inquisition?”

Vivienne doesn’t get offended. Indeed, she likes the opportunity to list her talents and accomplishments. “I am well-versed in the politics of the Orlesian Empire. I know every member of the Imperial Court personally. I have all of the resources remaining to the Circle at my disposal. And I’m a mage of no small talent. Will that do?”

“Does that mean you’ll be aiding the Inquisition from the Imperial palace?”

She has no interest in returning to court now and watching that woods witch swan about court with her title. But she doesn’t say that. “Ordinarily, I would be happy to serve as a liaison to the court, but these are not ordinary times. The veil has been ripped apart, and there is a hole in the sky. It is now the duty of every mage to work toward sealing the Breach, and so I would join the Inquisition on the field of battle.”

The Herald smiles. “The Inquisition will be happy to have you, Lady Vivienne.”

#dragon age inquisition #vivienne de fer #dalish ambition #solavellan

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nirikeehan · 2 years ago

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wip whenever!

I got tagged by @convenientcoma for wip whenever and this is probably for the best, because I'm still in the middle of exchangetown and next week I will need to finish up stuff I still can't share.

Right now I have a few rando fics I started as like warmup exercises (partially because I think that might be a good idea for me to start doing since going into writing cold can sometimes be daunting. and partially because I'm at like critical mass of outstanding DADWC prompts lol).

So here's something from an as of yet untitled fic set in Cullen's early days in Kirkwall, which was when I like to imagine he and Samson were hanging out the most. Here they are, on assignment together, something that has never happened before.

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“This is the first time I’ve been given anything bigger than a routine patrol,” Cullen commented, to see if this also struck Samson as strange.

His friend shrugged. “Congratulations?”

“And don’t you usually do night shifts?”

“You complainin’?” Samson scratched at a sideburn with the knuckle of his gauntlet.

“Of course not,” Cullen said quickly. “It’s just that… well.” The knights in the barracks gossiped, and when one was often the subject of such talk, his ears became quite attuned to the sound. It was well known that Cullen was considered damaged goods, sent away from the Ferelden Circle with the stench of betrayal clinging to him. And Raleigh Samson was considered trouble for a number of reasons — chief among them refusing to abide by the rules set by Knight-Commander Meredith.

Cullen looked around; the docks were deserted aside from themselves. Even so, he lowered his voice. “I’m surprised anyone in a position of authority would pair us together. For anything.”

Samson broke into a slow smirk. “Feels curious, don’t it?” He leaned against the white stone wall, waiting for the ferryman to return to row them over to Kirkwall proper. “Bloke making the schedule owed me a favor, is all.”

Cullen blinked. “What sort of favor?”

“Does it matter? You’re welcome, by the way. Or were you eager to do another dead-hour patrol with Ser Alrik?”

Cullen was not. Truth be told, Alrik made him nervous. The older knight liked to fill the silences with his own voice, and he was the sort of Templar whose ideas about safety and security straddled the lunatic fringe. Cullen could be nodding along in agreement one moment, only to lose the thread of Alrik’s argument the next, and with a jolt realize Alrik had veered into the delicate territory of Tranquility and Annulments with all the grace of a shipwreck.

“Even so,” Cullen pressed on, “why would you want to work with me?”

Samson shot him a look. He had deep set grey eyes that had a darting quality to them, like he was constantly assessing his surroundings — for what, Cullen could not be sure. He found Samson’s expressions difficult to read; this one seemed a cross between disgust and pity. “You have this shit of an opinion of yourself back in Ferelden, kid?”

Cullen opened his mouth and then closed it without answering. He turned away, hunching his shoulders, and tried to focus on the cool wind blowing off the harbor.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Samson muttered.

Cullen did not answer. Like most times his past emerged in conversation, he felt the words dry up in his throat, becoming embedded in his chest.

“Sure, sure, whatever.” Samson strolled past him as the ferryman pulled into the dock. “Stay mysterious, I don’t care.”

Sardonic tone aside, Cullen knew this to be true. Samson was one of the few knights who bothered with him at all, who surely knew the tales that accompanied him to Kirkwall, and yet hadn’t passed judgment for it. If anything, his ostracism seemed to earn respect in Samson’s eyes.

---

Tagging, if interested:

#cullen rutherford #raleigh samson #cullen & samson hours #wip wednesday #wip whenever #in the immortal words of eddie izzard: could be a whole series... with a lot of complaints #buddy cop dramedy of cullen and samson as the two outcasts in the kirkwall templars i'm just SAYIN #i love the idea ok

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guildtree · 1 year ago

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Got myself geared up for Tyria Pride! Down 300 gold and up one Commander Dorito!

The plan is to do the 24th on Laurel here, who's all dressed up in aromantic colors. I sadly had to remove her beloved Lunatic Templar breastplate, as the red hue was mucking up the colors :(

And then we'll do the 25th on Nora in asexual colors!

I am not a volunteer or anything, but I will be popping up a tag to join the rainbow and then fumbling around trying to figure out how to use it! Yaaay!

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #tyria pride 2023 #screenshots #charr #oc: laurel #oc: nora #also i am on NA forgot that oops

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boise-douglas · 5 months ago

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The people who are replying with so much Cullen hate fundamentally don’t understand his character. Cullen is introduced in the same game that Alistair is, I doubt they were trying to make an Alistair 2.0 when they already had one.

But from the first interaction with Cullen at the circle in Fereldan, Alistair specifically says ‘oh poor guy, he is hatred of mages has overtaken him.’ It’s a direct acknowledgment that they are different, that Cullen has gone through different circumstances than Alistair and responded differently. Alisitair is a product of neglect and abuse, Cullen is a product of propaganda and fear mongering and addiction.

Cullen had a great childhood and grew up surrounded by templars who seemed like valiant heroes in their shiny armors. (The wording in this post makes it sound like he was abusive towards his older sister when they actually have a great relationship.) Obviously a young boy with nothing to his name would want to aspire to be like them. Imagine you grew up poor and were surrounded by soldiers in dress uniform who regaled stories of heroics to you all day. You’d want to be like them too. He steadfastly wants to be a Templar, throughout all the horrors of it, because it’s what’s been fed to him as a glorious profession. He hasn’t traveled or been around mages enough to understand the abusive dynamics at play here yet.

Also, he doesn’t just hate the mages out of nowhere. He has a pretty traumatic experience at the circle in fereldan with the desire and sloth demons. He’s the last of his group to remain sane and is trapped in a prison being mentally tortured for what is probably days in the game. How could that not manifest into resentment.

He then is sent to Kirkwall, away from family members or any support system besides the templars and the chantry, where he is directly under a fanatic. Yes he follows her willingly, because what else would he reasonably do? I’m not excusing his actions by any means, I’m just saying that someone who is so heavily indoctrinated, so heavily scared and resentful of mages, and so utterly alone would not realistically say “let me remove myself emotionally from this and look critically at the situation.”

As for the retcon point, no you can’t really condemn cullen because he admits he was wrong. He feels extreme guilt towards it. If you console him and say it was alright, he forcibly says no, it wasn’t alright. I killed innocent people and followed a lunatic. The other games he simply is not a companion like Alistair is, so you can’t get on him as intimately as you can Alistair. Not to say Inquisition is particularly good at allowing disagreements with people (especially as a dalish elf hoo boy).

The example the OP used for dialogue is also not a good example. Imagine someone saying “Oh you were in a prison once, right?” and you respond “Yes and I bet you wish I was still locked up there too huh” like what?? You can’t confront Cullen about his past directly yet (an oversight for inquisition for sure) but you’re obviously not really trying to argue with him or confront him now, the dialogue option is pretty cut and dry ‘asshole’ response. Cullen doesn’t directly respond to what you say because who would? He just says “I’m sorry, it was a bad choice of conversation.” All the other normal dialogue options he expresses that it must have been hard to live there or that it must be refreshing to be somewhere else.

Also, Cullen is undergoing withdrawal from lyrium and trying to command the inquisition without falling to lyrium madness. He’s not funny because the guy is in agony (though he is pretty funny if he walks in on you and Iron Bull, and obviously has some sense of humor if he hangs out with Dorian). And as a separate point, you can’t fault the guy for being devote to his faith. He believes as strongly as Lelianna or Cassandra, but as a soldier he didn’t have the same perception of the chantry as they did.

Lastly, I feel like inquisition tried to show that Cullen has progressed and grown past his mindset in multiple ways. He plays chess with Dorian and if you romance him as a mage you can have multiple conversations about his thoughts on your magic. They don’t ignore his old mindset (in the beginning at haven he talks about the mages there and that he has been keeping a close eye on them and he doesn’t trust them), but they do let him move on from his past. It’s a realistic portrayal of how someone responds to years of propaganda and trauma.

Alistair vs. Cullen

It really annoys me when people act like Alistair and Cullen are the same character, when they are very different.

Alistair grew up with child neglect. When visiting Denerim, Eamon kept him in the kennels. At Redcliffe, he slept in the stables on a pile of hay. Alistair also recounts a time when he was locked in the dungeons for a day before someone came to get him out. And of course he also talks about how Isolde despised him, and “made sure the castle wasn't a home.” But is still convinced that Eamon is a good person and he deserved all that. Cullen had a very fortunate upbringing with a loving family who supported him and what he wanted in life.

Alistair never wanted to be a Templar; he was forced into joining the Order by Eamon. He is vocal about how much he despised this, and considers Duncan recruiting him for the Wardens as “saving” him from them. The only thing he says he enjoyed about Templar training was the educational component, which he did not receive previously. Alistair was a poor recruit because he frankly did not want to be there, and therefore did not take it very seriously. He saw practices like the Harrowing as horrifying, and deepened his dislike of being a Templar further. And as time goes on, he becomes even less of a supporter of the Order; he outright says Meredith is the biggest threat to Kirkwall in Dragon Age II, if made king of Ferelden. It was always Cullen’s dream to be a Templar, and would even force his younger sister to “play the apostate” for his “training” before being recruited. Cullen was an enthusiastic recruit who considered Templar training “all that he had imagined”, and “did not hesitate” in taking his vows. Even the Harrowing did not waver his devotion to the Order, which by Dragon Age II becomes downright fanatical and tyrannical, practically worshipping Meredith. (Though this was later attempted to be retconned in Dragon Age: Inquisition… just as poorly as all the other retcons in that game, taking the path of “just pretend he never said and did all those things!”)

There is a lot of dialogue from Alistair about how much he dislikes the Chantry. Cullen, on the other hand, is extremely faithful and the only criticism he ever has about the Chantry is that they don’t treat the Templars well enough.

Alistair has a good sense of humour—in fact, it’s one of his biggest coping mechanisms. Cullen wouldn’t know a joke if it hit him in the face.

The player can disagree with Alistair on every turn. He is presented as sometimes being right, and sometimes being wrong, like most people. (Side note: more than that, you can be downright verbally, emotionally, and physically abusive to Alistair. Holy shit, I didn’t even realize how bad it can get until reading through the dialogue in the toolset, because I’ve never picked those options in game. I was honest to god flabbergasted and very uncomfortable through much of it.) The player rarely has the chance to even mildly disagree with Cullen. On the rare occasion you do, the dialogue is painted as if the player is being an unreasonable asshole, and he never even addresses what they say. (Example.)

The only reason I think people are capable of mistaking them for another is because fandom likes to donate Alistair’s personality onto Cullen. That and the the ever-frequent whitewashing of Alistair doesn’t help matters. But I’m not even a Cullen fan and I think it’s a disservice to both of them to act like they’re just Alistair and Alistair 2.0, honestly.

#sorry for the rang im just a cert cullen lover #and everyone is just ignoring character development and hating #people hate to see actual problematic horrible people work towards redemption #cullen is a case study on indoctrination and propaganda #alistair is a case study on neglect and abuse (and classism)#dragon age characters do not have the omnipresence that the player does #nor the rationality

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dragonagebanter · 2 years ago

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Morrigan: So I take it you did not enjoy your templar training? Alistair: That's directed at me, I take it? Morrigan: Do you see any others about who have failed at their religious instruction? Alistair: I didn't fail. I was recruited into the Grey Wardens. Morrigan: And if you had not been recruited? What would have happened, instead? Alistair: I would have turned into a drooling lunatic, slaughtered the grand cleric and run through the streets of Denerim in my small clothes, I guess. Morrigan: Your self-awareness does you credit. Alistair: I thought you'd like that.

#alistair theirin #morrigan #alistair and morrigan #dragon age origins #dao

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shellderbeast · 3 years ago

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TLRH Extract - Missing Eyes

Post Black Templars VoxCast interaction between Dorn and Boy.

Extract from Chapter 30: The End of the Road

-----------------------------------

Terra, the Imperial Palace, Kitchens, Making Repairs

-----------------------------------

“Oww, th-that stings…”

“The stinging sensation is the antiseptic cleaning the wound. Do you know what it’s purpose is?”

“To…clean?”

“Surprisingly, no. The stinging sensation is actually the receptors in your body responding to the cleaning agents.”

“O-Oh…that…doesn’t make it sting less though…”

“I know. But sometimes, being told information helps to keep one’s mind off the painful act that is being performed.”

Doing his best not to squirm from the stinging in his right eye, Boy asked instead, “Th-That makes senses… Can you…keep talking then? Please Dadorable?”

There was barely a moments pause and those large hands, one of calloused flesh and the other of delicate mechanical construction, never faltered as he replied gravely, “I shall do this.”

As he carefully described the key principles for building foundations and the difference between a concrete base and a beam type foundation, Boy found his woozy brain drifting with those rumbling tones. The stinging in his eye became less and less as the giant man delicately cleaned the last of the cup shards from his eye.

He was vaguely aware of the nice Hospitaller ladies from the Adeptus Sororitas that gathered around him, along with some Tech-Priests that didn’t look like that Death one at least.

The last thing he heard was that Dadorable was telling him his family would be informed and that he was to, ‘sleep it off’ before the darkness claimed both of his eyes.

Rogal Dorn watched with a critical gaze as the Hospitaller medicae team sedated Boy and began working on replacing his damaged eye with a cybernetic augment instead. Upon cleaning the eye, he had realised how deep the damage had been, and immediately called for the team to attend.

With his more delicate task fulfilled, he quietly shifted back into his Centurion armour, not wanting to leave it exposed around the Mechanicus and their wandering mechadendrites for too long.

He only allowed them to perform their sacred rituals of maintenance under his watchful eyes, and at this moment, the majority of his attention was on the small, but brave young boy that was lying in a room adjacent to the palace kitchens.

After the horrendous VoxCast session that his Father had conducted, he had simply gathered Boy up in his arms and walked out of the room without saying anything to him or the now calmer Custodians. Given how his Father had repeatedly shown that he was fully aware of his actions, Rogal had decided that seeing to the needs of a courageous child were a higher priority than dealing with his obstinate Father.

Despite how his absolute lunatic of a son had somewhat redeemed himself by the end of the session, he found his feet were still quivering somewhat. It had been immensely stressful, even if he did not outwardly display it, and his thoughts churned with emotions that he would have preferred not to deal with.

But emotions were illogical, and it did little good simply desiring not to have them.

Handing his helmet to a serf, he returned to his vigil of watching over Boy, contemplating what his next logical actions would be…and how he would go about managing the more difficult issues.

Like returning to his sons once more…

-----------------------------------

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33330481/chapters/82771282

#Rogal Dorn #Boy #TTS #if the emperor had a text to speech device #Lord Adorable #warhammer 40k

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ethan-acfan · 10 months ago

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Wanted to go more in-depth with this idea, but this also takes place in my au where a bunch of desmonds ancestors follow him around in spirit form. So, since I want this to take place in ac2, currently, Altair, malik, and ezio are following desmond around with occasional glimpses of bayek and Aya

I sat at my desk working while Altair and malik spoke to ezio behind me. I still had no clue why or how these guys were here, but if I mentioned it, I would have to admit that they have been following me since abstergo and Lucy probably wouldn't like that I hadn't said anything about them.

I looked over my shoulder and glanced around the room, Rebecca was installing an update to the animus, Shaun was looking through books, and Lucy was.... Lucy looked really frustrated.

She was furiously typing on her computer. She looked like she was about to break it.

"Lucy, are you alright?" I asked, which caught Altair and Ezio's attention.

"Yes, just....I have the location of a Templar hideout, but I can't do anything about it." Lucy responded while hanging her head.

I got up and walked over to her, looking at her screen. Ezio followed, curious about what she was looking at.

I looked at the page. At the top, it had a location written in bold letters. It seemed to be on the outskirts of the city just a couple miles out from....

"This is the location?" I asked while pointing at the address.

She nodded. "It's only 30 minutes out, but I can't do anything, but wait."

I stood. "Give me 5 minutes. I need to make a call." I said while walking towards the door.

"Wait, desmond, you can't leave. It's too dangerous." Lucy called out

"I never said I was leaving." I said as I walked into the hallway.

After I made sure they wouldn't be able to hear me, I pulled out my phone. Before I could even dial a number, Altair and Malik appeared in front of me, crossing their arms.

"What are you doing?" Malik questioned.

I grinned. "I'm calling in a favor." I said while holding up my phone.

"And who are you calling?" Altair asked.

"Some friends." I said while dialing the number and pressing the call button before they could question me more.

I held the phone up to my ear.

"Who is it?" Said a gruff voice from the other end of the phone.

"Hey, it's the bartender from bad weather. I need to ask a favor."

After I finished my call, Altair stared at me. "Do you really think they will do it."

"Of course, these guys always keep their promises," I said while grinning at them

I made my way back to the others. Lucy looked at me before asking, "Who did you call?"

"Can't say just know that they will handle it." I said while sitting back down in my chair.

I spun my chair around to face them. They all were exchanging worried looks.

Rebecca spoke first. "What do you mean they will handle it?"

I grinned. "You'll know what I mean soon."

"Why do you have to be so ominous." Lucy asked, exasperated.

I shrugged before turning to Rebecca. "Is the update done yet?"

"Ya, I just had to patch a few things. Shuan was complaining about the database, so I made a few adjustments."

"The system was horrible! It would take me 20 minutes just to add information!" Shaun cried out.

"Are you sure it wasn't just a user error?" Rebecca asked teasingly.

"Are you sure it wasn't a manufacturer problem?" Shaun retorted.

"Guys, can we please focus." Lucy asked.

I stood up, stretching my arms before walking over to the animus and sitting down. Altair gave me a sad smile before turning to Malik.

I felt my vision blur as I went into the animus.

(2 days later)

I groaned as I rolled over. It was far too early to be awake. Ezio laughed at me, and I wanted to throw a pillow at him, but I knew it would be useless. It would also make me look like a lunatic.

I rolled out of bed, and Lucy smiled at me, handing me a coffee.

"Thanks." I said as I sipped the coffee.

"I should be the one thanking you." She said while turning back to her screen.

I raised an eyebrow.

"The Templar hideout was found completely deserted, and all of their gear and supplies was left neatly by the door with a note."

"What did the note say?" I asked

"All it said was,"You owe us a drink."

I grinned. "Well, I guess when this is all over, I owe some friends a drink."

She raised an eyebrow. "How did you do this?"

"Trade secret." I said while walking over to my chair and sitting down.

Malik smiled at me while shaking his head. "You're worse than Altair."

I tried not to laugh at altair hitting Malik's arm. Which was really difficult.

I glanced at the door, and for a moment, I could have sworn I saw someone standing in the door frame, but when I blinked, they disappeared.

I hope it's not another ancestor. I thought to myself while turning to my computer.

I swear I planned for bayek to show up more, just I didn't really feel like it. Anyway, I took like 10 minutes to write this, so plz ignore any grammar mistakes or if this is really bad

Ok, I have heard so many stories of bartenders serving gang members/dangerous people and even being able to ask these people for favors. Now, just imagine desmond has had one of these experiences and has yet to call in his favor.

Like, imagine after the solar flare Rebecca complaining about not being able to do anything about a growing Templar hideout, and desmond is just like, "give me 5 minutes I need to make a call."

Within the next few days, suddenly, the hideout is completely gone, and Rebecca is like, "desmond, what the hell did you do?" And desmond is just like "I called in a favor."

And offers no further explanation.

#assassin's creed #desmond miles #i need feral desmond #bartender desmond with connections #rebecca crane #concerned Rebecca crane #silly desmond #altair #ezio auditore #malik al sayf

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dismalzelenka · 3 years ago

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Happy holidays!! For Anders/Justice, might I offer the prompt "Are you holding back? Don't." <3

happy new year @dadrunkwriting. if you see me egregiously mixing up verb tenses, no you don't. >:]

The first time Hawke mentions he and Justice should try learning how to work together, he all but rolls his eyes. "We've tried," he says snippily. "It doesn't work. We're too tangled together."

She'd just shrugged. "Never took you for a quitter," she'd said breezily, and then she'd left him alone in the clinic to his frustrated, turbulent thoughts.

He's not a quitter. He's not. It's not quitting to avoid attempting the impossible.

The second time she mentions it, it's after a particularly harrowing trip down the Wounded Coast that ended with four dead Templars and quite a bit of collateral damage. Hawke has a fresh scar across her shoulder that definitely isn't going away anytime soon, because she'd clumsily dressed the wound herself and hidden it for an entire day. "Didn't want you to blame yourself," she'd said simply when he finally noticed the bloodstain on her shirt was, in fact, getting larger and definitely made of her blood. "Although if you guys worked together more, you might have figured out it was me sooner."

She had him there.

So here he is now, locked in the lowest level of her expansive cellar, eyeing a row of training dummies with a growing sense of trepidation in his gut. Hawke watches him shrewdly from the corner, armored up and ready for a fight at his insistence in case things go horribly wrong.

This feels like a monumentally bad idea.

He stands there for a moment rooting around for Justice in his head and feels like an absolute idiot. He doesn't know how to pull him forward on command. He's never quite figured out how to call Justice forward, and quite frankly, he doesn't even know if it's possible.

Hawke slams the side of her staff into his stomach without a shred of warning. The impact throws him onto his arse, and he stares at the ceiling in stunned confusion as he gasps air back into his lungs.

"Come on, Justice," she calls out as Anders struggles to his feet. "This will be easier if you cooperate."

"Hawke, don't," he wheezes. "It isn't going to work. We'll have to find some other way--"

Another blow lands on the side of his leg. "Hawke!" he protests. "Stop! It isn't working, and you're just going to provoke him!"

"Good. It's time we had a talk."

She's gone completely mad. He's beginning to think she hit her head on the coast.

The staff swings towards him a third time, and to his horror, he feels himself fading to the background, limbs moving at the behest of someone who definitely isn't him. He catches the staff with his hand, his grip infused with unearthly strength. "Hawke, cease this madness," he booms, except it isn't him, and the voice that falls from his lips fills the cellar with its ringing.

Her lips curl into a smile. "There you are," she says. He doesn't let go of the staff, and neither does she. "Do you have an aversion to coming when you're called?"

Justice scowls, and quite frankly, Anders can't blame him. "I am not a hound at your behest," he snarls. "This activity is demeaning and has no point."

"No, I think it does, actually," Hawke says. Completely undeterred, the lunatic. She wrenches the staff away from their hand and leans on it casually as she braces it on the floor. "I think you're a danger to yourself because the two of you refuse to help one another. Do you disagree?"

"I am helping him. We are one. I protect him."

"Yes, we know." Hawke flaps her hands dismissively, and Anders cringes in the pocket of his mind where he's now trapped, an observer in his own body, vibrating with anxiety at the exchange he's watching unfold before him. "You protect him by striking his enemies down the way a wildfire devours everything in its path. He's terrified of you, did you know that? He never knows when you're going to turn on the people he loves. Is that justice? Or is it blind retribution?"

Justice lunges at her, and she sidesteps him easily. "You might be a spirit, Justice, but you have a mortal's temper now, and if you don't learn to control it, Anders is going to get hurt, and it will be your fault. Is that really what you want?"

"I would never hurt Anders," Justice snarls. "We are one. I care for him."

"You're already hurting him." He hurls a bolt of magic at her, but she deflects it easily with her staff. Something behind him splinters into pieces, but he can't turn his head to see what he's destroyed. "You, yanking control away from him like this? It hurts him. Can't you feel it, the way he cowers in fear while you use his body against his wishes?"

"You speak as though I am a demon."

"Then stop acting like one."

Anders feels their blood run cold. He braces himself for ... well, he's not sure what he's bracing himself for exactly, but a statement like that cannot end well. He feels himself clawing at the walls of his mind, trying to wrestle his control back before something terrible happens, but to his surprise he feels the resistance weaken. Justice pauses for a moment, and then recedes back just a little. Not enough to allow Anders full control, but enough that when Anders opens his mouth to speak, his lips finally respond. "Hawke, what are you doing?"

"Trying to get you two to talk things out before you get yourselves killed." She leans casually on her staff and eyes them with those piercing hazel eyes he can't ever seem to read. "Seems like you're both paying attention now, so listen to me very carefully. I'm going to throw some weak energy bolts at you, and I would very much like it if you cooperated instead of fighting one another over who throws it back. Nod if you agree."

Anders nods tentatively and finds, to his surprise, that Justice nods in tandem. "We are in agreement," Justice says.

"Good." Hawke steps back into her stance and gathers energy to her fingertips before slinging it at them with a lopsided grin.

For a moment, Anders loses himself in the terror of not being able to move his limbs on his own, but he hears Justice in his mind, gruff but without malice.

I have you.

Anders cedes control willingly then. If Justice is controlling his limbs, he's better able to concentrate on directing their magic, and--

Oh.

He mentally reaches out for his magic -- their magic -- and finds an endless pool of mana, still and cool and ready beneath his fingertips. He broadcasts his intent to Justice with images: footwork and energy flow mapped out in his mind, a familiar dance he attempts to share.

Justice responds instantly. It's an odd sensation, feeling piloted rather than moving on his own, but he focuses on channeling magic instead, and the surge of mana that flows from their fingertips is more focused, more brilliant than it's ever been. The energy bolt hits Hawke in the chest and knocks her backwards against a support column, and Anders feels Justice recoil in horror.

They've taken two steps forward when Hawke pulls herself to her feet, panting with exertion as she offers them a cheerful thumbs up. "That's more like it!" she crows. "Are you still holding back?"

Anders stares at her. They stare at her. "Of course we are," he says, except he's not entirely sure whose voice shapes the words that fall from their lips. It's disorienting, but it's not unpleasant, and he finds the tingling warmth he can feel beneath his skin is oddly soothing when it's consensual.

Hawke laughs, her voice melodic and merry like bells as she throws her head back with mirth. "Don't," she says. Her eyes twinkle in challenge. "I want to see what you two can really do."

#da drunk writing circle #hawke #anders #justice #justhanders #sort of #well pre justhanders i guess #i know you requested justice and anders but this idea got away from me and hawke is such a good catalyst lmfao #diz writes

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barkspawns-mama · 3 years ago

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Morrigan: So I take it you did not enjoy your templar training?

Alistair: That's directed at me, I take it?

Morrigan: Do you see any others about who have failed at their religious instruction?

Alistair: I didn't fail. I was recruited into the Grey Wardens.

Morrigan: And if you had not been recruited? What would have happened, instead?

Alistair: I would have turned into a drooling lunatic, slaughtered the grand cleric and run through the streets of Denerim in my small clothes, I guess.

Morrigan: Your self-awareness does you credit.

Alistair: I thought you'd like that.

#dragon age #dao alistair #alistair theirin #morrigan

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aricazorel · 3 years ago

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tagged by @noire-pandora Thank you! I'm a day late but better late then never...

This WIP is from a future chapter of "Say You Won't Let Go" featuring Cullen Rutherford and Elowyn Treymane. Taking place after the battle in the Arbor Wilds, Samson has been brought back to Skyhold while the Inquisition continues to look for Corypheus. Wyn goes to check on Cullen hoping to assure herself that the presence of the Elder One's General is not adversely affecting the Commander.

Read it from the beginning here on AO3

~ ~ ~

Cullen glanced up from his desk prepared to tell the next person who interrupted his task to sod off. As the door opened, his annoyance drained away. A small smile tugged at his lips. “Maker, I’m glad you stopped by.”

Elowyn closed the door behind her as she cocked her head. “Oh, really? I thought I might be interrupting big, important Commander business.”

“Actually, you are, but I can forgive you this time for the indiscretion,” the former templar smirked as he rounded the desk to meet her half way.

She blinked in fake offense. “Indiscretion? I had no idea that my mere presence in your office was such a scandalous affair. Shall we notify the nobility so they can pass judgement over me? Perhaps you’d be offered a better choice in women.”

Cullen knew his face must have clouded over before he could reign in his emotions. He watched as she cringed, realizing exactly what her words would have sounded like to him. He reached for her, pulling her to him by the wrists. “Do not say such things. I meant only to tease you. I most definitely will take any opportunity to see you…But I want no one else…”

“I know that, Cullen,” she replied anger evident in her voice. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Hey,” he said as he leaned down to look her in the eye. “I know you didn’t. It is just…The task you interrupted is the…I am finalizing the official charges against Samson.”

He watched as she glanced around him to his desk. Her own expression became dark. “He is going to be punished, right?”

“Of course,” Cullen replied automatically looking away from her to the bookshelf. He took a breath as he added slowly, “I am not sure—The Inquisitor has several options available to him. We discussed them during our War Council yesterday. I might have put forth death as one but that would be too kind. Leliana and Josephine offered their own ideas but ultimately the decision is up to Trevelyan.”

A tap on his chest plate brought his attention back to her. Grey eyes peered up at him with an unspoken question, one he knew she had been reluctant to ask since she had learned of Samson’s arrival at Skyhold. He pursued his lips. If he didn’t answer her, she would begin to worry and became irritable and then call him an arse biscuit. She probably would call him an arse biscuit no matter what his response was.

Exhaling sharply, he said, “I am going to be taking Josephine’s place at the judgement…And no, I have not gone to see him. What would be the point?”

“None, I suppose,” she noted as she made a face. “He’s an arse biscuit and not the good kind. He betrayed the Templar Order and those he claimed to give purpose. If you want closure where he’s concerned, I doubt a visit to his bloody cell would do it. He’s too much of a self-centered lunatic to offer such a thing. He still believes following a darkspawn Tevinter magister is a good idea. How can you get any sort of closure from such a fucking blighted ass?”

Ever impressed with his love’s capacity for colorful language, he couldn’t help a smile. “You have described my thoughts exactly.”

She looked up at him skeptically. “You curse in your head? I don’t think so, Rutherford.”

“There is a difference between vocalizing one’s thoughts unfiltered and using restraint,” he noted with a smirk. He knew he would pay later for the comment, but her retorts were always amusing to watch.

She backed away from him, crossing her arms as she did so. Her expression was one of annoyance. He couldn’t tell if it were real or a feign. “You think I am uncapable of restraining what comes out of my mouth?”

“A great deal of the time, yes,” he replied honestly. If he said anything else, what she did to him later would be worse if he attempted to spare her feelings.

“Ass,” she mumbled as she looked at his desk. He knew she was worried about the presence of Samson at Skyhold and the impending judgement. Worried about how that would affect him.

He took her in his arms. “That is arse biscuit if you please and I believe I am your arse biscuit.”

“Cullen,” she said warily.

He kissed the crown of her head. “I will be fine. This is just one more step to ending Corypheus. I will see this through until the end.”

#wip whenever #dragon age #cullen rutherford #elowyn treymane #cullen rutherford x fem oc #read on ao3

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deeply-concerned · 1 month ago

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Damn I really wanted to see a proper Mages - Templars fight too. The cutscenes so far have been lack-luster but you bring up a very good point about human nature and it is one of the reasons why I really like the concept of the Circles in Thedas.

I am new to DA so I don't know much about previous arguments but personally, one of the major themes I noticed in DA is corruption goes hand in hand with power. Even if its wielders have good intentions, they could still pave the road to hell. Large authority organizations in DA no matter how good or noble their initial founding ideals are, they still fall due to corruption, temptation or desperation. The Grey Wardens, the Templars, the Inquisition, Orlais or Ferelden's bureaucracy... And not to mention the invidiuals like Solas, Cullen, Anders... They committed atrocities in the name of goodness and some wake up from the illusions while others still fall blindly. And it looped back to the Circle concept soooo good.

At the end of time humanity is complex. We will never have a society that is utterly good or utterly evil because that is just not in our nature. Many mages in the game expressed different views to the nature of mage, magic, possession and freedom and it was so freaking realistic. There is a Solas's (the most pro mage freedom guy) dialogue in which he said if a mage got possessed he would kill them and I found it so stupidly funny like, sure buddy I know you can but not everyone is as powerful as you. I like him but he is so blinded because of his power. What a farmer gonna do, throw a forkstick at abominations.

Now about the Templars being incompetent pussies, I truly think we as the players are missing perspectives. Lore wise they are renounced to have the best military training that is capable of going toe on toe with other nations' best military operations. I don't deny there are corruptions and weaklings in the ranks but since their main job is to keep an eye on mages who could wreck havoc easily with just thoughts and contain them securely, it's not a farfetched assumption that they have to be capable if they don't want to risk their life.

I don't understand why you said the Templar has to throw rocks if the mages are out of their proximity though. There are Templar Archers too and they mostly fight in teams with a Defender/Guard and Knight/Attacker. That's an effective small team formation. And it's not like the mages are that powerful. Their magic has limits and they are just flesh and bones too. Yeah you can shoot fireballs from your palm and freeze earth, cool now take these poison arrows to your jugular or just a good old blunt trauma force to your ribcages. And I doubt the rebel mages eat roots lol, they escaped with a bunch of resources and have money to hire mercenaries/sell swords to protect them (an effective strategy too). Not to mention the rebel mages that are actively fighting are not your average Joe. They are rabid just as the rogue Templar. There are dialogues and NPCs in game pointed out that the more peaceful mages went to Redcliff, the weaker ones wanted to stay out and while the Templars had their orders, many of them wanted to stay out of the war or figure others options too.

In DAI it's stated very clearly that the Templars actively fight with mages in Hinterland have lost their marbles. They are no more than mad dogs, attacking civilians without reason and with the demon corruption, red lyrium consumption that had been going on for a while you could understand partially why. Not to mention psychological things like Stanford Prison Experiment or some of the Templar are bad in the first place and just wanted to kill or be a religious fanatic. The rebel mages are lunatics drunk on newfound freedom plus the explosion in Conclave that escalated everything to the max. Not to mention it wiped out many of the Templar elites forces too.

Bah, I am rambling but in short I still think while there are corruption and extremists, the Templars is an effective organisation and ideal that have lost their way and need a rebuild (and not all Circles are bad, many of them have been said to run honourably). The concept of Circle is necessary and realistic too, based on a very humane reaction to such a dangerous element like magic. I like what Vivienne said about rebuilding Circle and Templar Orders. There needed to be more mages in charge with actual influence so the stigmas around magic could be lessened and bring more balance to the power scale between Templar and mages. And Templars and mages should be allowed to socialize with the other faction. The rule that prohibited them to do so is stupid and only brought out more misunderstanding hostility.

and the fucking mage circles of Dragon Age are a thing so convoluted, Gaider must've given himself hernia when he gave up with that idea.

Listen. Containing even regular, unarmed people who aren't locked in cells and can roam the place, and who outnumber you, is difficult. Especially when all you have is blades whilst your wards have innate weapon, magic, that can cook you to death on the spot long before you even see where your magical assailant even is.

The mage never even has to enter a templar's anti-magic radius. More than that, the templar has to first deploy the anti-magic radius. And idk why people are acting like when you nullify a mage's magic, they become helpless. What the hell is stopping a bunch of muted mages from mobbing each templar? Sure, there would be injuries. But like Spartacus gave a fuck. Spartacus had a goal, and by gods was he going to do what he had to do or die trying.

'b b but brainwashing and social engineering...' Mate. If that shit ever worked, every religious millionaire would be a poor man by will. As it stands, 'you can say 'money bad, millionaires bad' all you want to them, but the fact is, when you have the power that wealth offers you, there is no reason to give it away. You might even acknowledge that you're a monster, that money makes you a bad person, but in the end it just doesn't matter, you are not really beholden to the same social rules as a pauper, because you can simply buy and intimidate your way out of it all.

Bioware here really trying to make me believe that a guy who can instakill a person by simply thinking really hard wouldn't find ways to hoard lyrium until he has enough to leisurely walk through a mage tower, burning templars to death before they can even get anywhere close to magic canceling radius.

People with power and resource always rise to the top. Always. Tevinter is what realistically happens when you have a society of haves (mages) and have-nots (everybody else). History shows that the have-nots almost never rise up against the haves, at least not successfully, and before anybody brings up the French revolution... who the fuck do you think its leaders were? Who the fuck do you think funded it? Who the fuck do you think the revolution benefited the most, before it all went off the rails, as things tend to do, when you, again, give a monkey a stick and the monkey realises what he can really do with it?

God i fucking hate the dragon age oppressed mages and the stupid ass circles. I just hate it. Most blatant display of writers having been bullied nerdy kids in the past and trying to cope by acting like they only got bullied because they were too cool, because acknowledging the truth would mean realising that their pain was meaningless, and it was caused simply for shits and giggles. Having to admit that you had no power, you just had to sit there and take it, because you had no stick. You want you want your past hurt to have meaning, so you write a dumbass mage circle. Big shrug. Sure. You can do that. You can also shit your pants if you want, I ain't stopping ya. But I don't have to smell it and like it.

#long af post #dragon age rambling

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tarasylnin-lavellan · 4 years ago

Text

Of Freedom and Falling

Tarasyl'nin stood with her brother on the vast cliffs of the Storm coast, her face was drawn and tired. Great black eagles rode the air currents around them their sleek bodies gliding through the turbulent air with ease. Dorian scowled looking down at Tara, "darling you cannot be serious about this, I know that you have been trying to shapeshift for a while now, but this? this is insane even for us." Tara's brow furrowed in frustration "the spirit that I am bound to...it is unbending if it is to ever allow me to change my shape, it must be life or death. I must give it no choice, this is too important I cannot bend on this." Blue light coiled out from her in a clear protest but she gritted her teeth and it receded into her skin. Dorian sighed in resignation he knew the sound of his sisters stubborn pride, she would not stop. “Must you do this in such a dramatic way darling? I mean leaping from a cliff to win a battle of wills is worthy of the imperium.” Tara turned to him laughing softly, her features relaxing for a moment. Dorian marveled at how truly beautiful she was like that, without the strain of her mask, she seemed a whole different person. Her raven hair swirled around her in gusting wind “if I am to fly Isa’ma’lin I want to fly here in the heart of the storms.” Tara turned her eyes to the sky “I need this brother, I need to know that I am still free, that I am still me. I need one thing that this path cannot take from me.” Her eyes reflected the years of restriction, the strain that the responsibility that had been forced on her had created.

Dorian nodded knowing when he was outplayed, “well then we had best hope that this works, Cullen will kill me too if you dash yourself on the waves and I just watch.” Tara nodded somberly “it will work it has to, I have tried everything else that Lady Morrigan has suggested.” Dorian stepped back and gestured grandly at the edge, “your death or freedom await my lady.” Tara sprinted for the cliff fade stepping to gain speed and launched herself into the air, black curls whipping in the air. Justice bucked in anger and frustration, an old spirit that did not wish to change. Tara had done her duty, she had sealed the breach she had closed every rift, she would not be stopped now. SHIFT she roared in her mind, time slowed as the pair struggled for supremacy. She held on grimly DO IT OR WE BOTH DIE, she could not, would not let this go. She needed the sky she pushed her soul toward the shape of the eagles that soared around her. She demanded that this be her shape, she had asked Morrigan to teach her as a favor for allowing the human to take the well of sorrows. She held her resolve as the pair plummeted toward the crashing waves unbending unbreaking the decision had already been made. She would fly or she would fall, she would be free either way. At last she felt her power change and violet smoke curled around her body the spirit finally accepting the shape that she demanded.

Vast black wings stretched from her and her powerful talons scraped the waves water spraying away from her. She beat her wings in the air climbing straight for the clouds. She heard Dorian cheering in joy beneath her, I will allow this one shape the thought rose in Tara’s mind as she soared. Agreed Haren Tara couldn't care less this was the only thing she had ever truly demanded be given to her. The world beneath her was silenced and the quiet of the air surrounded her. She felt peace in her soul for the first time in memory, the peace of solitude, of freedom. She had struggled toward this goal for years, fighting within herself battling the static nature of the spirit that she was irrevocably bonded to.

But this was her line in the Sand, Tara would not be denied this she would join the sky or die trying. She turned gracefully banking toward the cliffs, she could see Cullen approaching Dorian, creators! her eyes were so keen. "Where is Tara?" Cullen looked around for her, he had decided to accompany them on this particular expedition wishing the break from his duties. Dorian smirked "oh she has a few projects up in the air..." Cullen squinted at him "what are you talking about?" Tara could see her lover looking around for her. A mischievous thought coiled through her, this was going to be fun. She dove down swooping toward Dorian letting out a screech to warn him.

Dorian nonchalantly held a gauntleted hand out, he had been trained to be a falconer in Tevinter. Cullen saw the massive eagle coming toward them and took a step back in alarm. Tara landed on Dorian's gauntlet a little awkwardly but managed to save it, she ruffled her feathers and looked at Dorian. Cullen looked in shock at the bird "MAKER BREATH!" Cullen watch the bird with alarmed eyes "how did you manage to tame a storm eagle Dorian!" Dorian guffawed turning to Tara with a raised eyebrow "you go for the dense ones don't you?" Tara clicked her beak and annoyance and thumped him with one of her wings. "Ouch you are truly a harpy now" Dorian laughed as the eagle glared at him in a very familiar way. Cullen's eyes turn to her, he looked closer the the eagle resting on Dorian's arm. The bird's feathers weren't quite right not the true pitch black of a storm eagle, but a black tinged with violet and her eyes they were pale purple? He felt disbelief flood him there was no way... "Tara?”

He felt foolish even saying it sure that this was one of the Tevinter’s jokes. Dorian turned his gaze at Cullen "ah the Templar gets there in the end I suppose." Tara leapt from Dorian's arm shifting back to her original form Violet smoke pooling around her. She was smiling a delighted grin, laughing out loud "you should have seen your face ma vhenan!" Cullen looked at her in shock he didn't think that she could do any other form of magic! "I thought that you said that the spirit wouldn't let you!" Cullen's words tripped over themselves as he stared at her. She was still grinning when she replied "She didn't at first, I gave her a choice let me shift or die." Dorian rolled his eyes "The lunatic launched herself off a cliff so that the spirit had to change or they would both perish." Cullen rounded on the younger man "and you just watched it!" Dorian scoffed "do you honestly believe that I could stop her, Tarasyl'nin Lavellan if she truly wished this?"

Tara scowled "I didn't ask anyone's permission to do this, I needed this." Cullen's eyes widening an alarm "Tara love you could have died! How could you-" " I did not die” she cut him off briskly “I have played by the rules for years, I have served those who would revile me. I need to know in my heart that I can get away...." Tears formed in her pale eyes and she looked away. "I have given up everything, my home, my people, my very sense of self... I cannot, I will not, lose my freedom, I will not be caged." Dorian went to her wrapping her in his arms, glaring accusingly at Cullen. Cullen swallowed heavily, skyhold and never been a prison to him, but he could see how his lover would see it that way. He strode to her side and Dorian backed away "I will leave you two to your discussion" he said briskly and strode away.

Cullen took her hands in his and breathed out slowly, “forgive me vhenan, you frightened me is all, I couldn't stand to lose you... please...don't do anything like this again.” Tara looked up at him tears in her eyes “I am sorry that I scared you ma’atish but I had run out of options, I couldn’t let this go.” He nodded knowing that she had been fighting for this for years. “Just please be careful my love, I need you, please don't leave me here alone.” Tara rested her head on his chest relaxing against him “I will stay vhenan, for you.”

#tarasylnin #lavellen #tara's backstory #cullavellan #cullen rutherford #dorian pavus #tara shapeshifting #dorian sassing cullen gives me life #dragon age inquisition #dragon age

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