#nevarra is insane

[nadasdirthalens]

Feeling really normal about them rn….

[potatoesandsunshine]

this new max trevelyan situation is sooooooooo. it is so. what if you were trapped in amber (stolen away to the circle) and remain a Pure & Good Soul in the eyes of your generation of the family because you weren't involved in the cutthroat succession fight they all had (because, again, you were trapped in the circle dealing with The Situation In There) and when you finally got out like half your cousins were dead and the other half were a little bit too devoted to the idea that a piece of their childhood remains Untainted in you so you kind of fell into this peacemaker role but right as you finally got everyone talking to each other again you became the center of a religious movement that clearly does not have your best interests at heart. so now those same cousins are sat around a table in a secret basement somewhere trying to decide if they can kidnap you out of it. like on one hand: bonding experience successful! on the other hand if you don't fold them into the inquisition somehow they will be crushed under the boot of it.

[vallaslins]

John Epler please explain to me how it doesn't matter who the Divine is for the Andrastian nations of the Anderfels, Nevarra, Antiva, and Rivain.

Also how does it not matter who killed the archdemon when their tomb is supposed to be at Weisshaupt?

If the Inquisitor is present and their romance is going to be mentioned, how does it not matter if they broke up or if their love interest is dead?

How does it not matter who drank from the Well when both the Inquisitor and Morrigan will be in the game?

How does it not matter if Kieran exists, much less has the old god soul? Morrigan just won't mention him at all and players will have to pretend he exists off-screen? Or is Bioware going to invalidate worldstates without Kieran since most players do the Dark Ritual?

I knew as soon as they said the decisions carrying over would be chosen during character creation that the number of decisions would be low. But only three and them all being Inquisition decisions and two of them being from Trespasser is insane.

[tench]

The more I think about the fact that king Markus of Nevarra is confirmed undead now and our party member is complicit in it, the more I feel like I'm going insane. And the game treats it as a throwaway joke!

Remember the times when it would have caused serious political consequences...

[sageadvice]

A Marriage of Inconvenience

by TheBetterAngelsOfOurNature on Ao3

Varric Tethras, Viscount of Kirkwall, has a pretty good handle on the whole running-a-city-state thing until Cassandra shows up. He'd be exasperated as hell except that she keeps dragging him along. Hey, it gets him out of the office. Things are tense up North, especially with Starkhaven slobbering over Kirkwall like a gurgut over a wounded bogfisher. Then, Nevarra needs an ally in the Free Marches and Cassandra is her country's best hope. Now, the holier-than-thou, self-important, Choir Boy who invaded Kirkwall is out to marry Cassandra. He's tall and human and Chantry-loving and recites poetry and Varric's got a nug's chance at supper, but who gives a shit?

If Sebastian wants his city or his Seeker, he'll have to step over Varric's grave.

…

Hi! In case anyone (like me) is still in mourning, please read this fic by my best friend, TheBetterAngelsOfOurNature about happier post-inquisition times for our beloved heroes. It is, specifically, about Varric and Cassandra, but all the characters are included in some way and it’s so insanely, stupidly well-written and amazing that my brain melts when I read it and I’ve got it memorized by now. Also: I don’t care what BioWare says, this is canon forever and I will live with my fingers in my ears if anyone tries to tell me otherwise.

If you don’t read it, do you not like joy? Do you not like romance? Do you not like hope and levity? Do yourself favor. No! Do Varric a favor—read this and let him live on in your mind as this version of himself, the way the Maker intended.

A new chapter just dropped 😊

[daitranscripts]

Cassandra Conversation: Specialization

Reaver

Cassandra Masterpost

Cassandra: Be careful, Inquisitor. Dragon blood can change you in ways you will not expect.

PC: How do you know that?

Cassandra: Dragon hunters were once revered in Nevarra, and the Pentaghasts were the most famous. Many of my family became Reavers, harnessing the power of dragon’s blood against their quarry. But each one went terribly insane in the end. Eventually it was forbidden.

1 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: They went mad? [2]

General: That sounds horrible. [3]

General: I rather enjoy the forbidden. [4]

General: I’ll be fine. [5]

2 - Investigate: They went mad? PC: They all went mad? Cassandra: It was their own doing, I understand. Greed drove them to use more and more. The blood… deformed them. Caused growths, scales, things of that nature. They became enraged by little things. In time, that rage swallowed them. They committed murders, killed entire families, unspeakable things. Tales from hundreds of years ago, of course. Likely exaggerated… but perhaps not entirely. [back to 1]

3 - General: That sounds horrible. PC: I don’t like the sound of that. [6]

4 - General: I rather enjoy the forbidden. PC: I like dabbling in the forbidden from time to time. [6]

5 - General: I’ll be fine. PC: Don’t worry about me. [6]

6 - Scene continues.

Cassandra (high approval): If anyone is a match for dragon’s blood, it is you. I only suggest caution. Cassandra (low approval): It seems reckless to me, but do as you wish. I simply suggest caution.

[jukkariart]

DA4 - Rook/ OC - Alectris

You know what, I'm gonna be a bit insane on here. Tagging as spoiler, just in case, but it's mostly just info dump on a character that's probably not even gonna be Rook really but a separate OC.

I thought her up initially last year and now with all the DATV things coming up she's been taking up most of my brainpower.

Details under the cut, ask me anything I guess?

Name: Alectris (possibly will stick with Mercar, it's a good surname me thinks)

Nickname: Tris

Age: 29

Nationality: Tevinter

Family: Comes from a Laetan family

Long standing mage family but with no confirmed links with the ancient dreamers, so they never made it to Altus status

5th child

Her siblings are all older than she is, 2 sisters and 2 brothers

Looks: Rather tall at 178 cm Alectris is average build, yet quite physically strong for a mage. With slightly off torso to arms and legs proportions, people sometimes compare her to a young foal. She has fair skin with freckles, which are most common on her face and shoulders, but can be found on her whole body. 

Her shoulder length dark brown hair usually in a semi up-do to keep them from falling over her eyes. She has brown-amber eyes.

Skills:

(Based on the mage skill tree and whatever the heck i want) Primarily a spell blade, front line combatant using sword and casting shields.

Skilled elemental mage, primarily focused on lightning magic with fire to fill in the mix.

Crap at hexes and couldn't heal a paper cut if her life depended on it.

Personality

Alectris is rough around the edges. Witty and sharp, she prefers to deflect personal questions with sarcasm instead of addressing her feelings head on, very much unlike her approach to pretty much anything else in her life. She's resilient and focused when needed, but needs a goal to channel her energy into or she becomes restless and apathetic. Pragmatic and self-sufficient she tends to prefer simple solutions that she can count on herself to complete.

In the field she tends to favor group effort, after years of military service, she has learned the value of a good team that she can rely on. A front line fighter she specializes in close combat and shields to keep her team out of harm.

Background

Alectris has managed to fumble through most of her early life with a mix of bad luck and surprising resilience.

The youngest child in the family, she didn't produce any magic until the "ripe old" age of 11, making it the latest in the recent family memory.

She's been taught at home since then with barely any breaks to catch-up to her peers and when deemed satisfactory she has joined the circle of magi in Vyrantium by the age of 15, where she's remained for the next 4 years with mixed results. While determined and sharp, she's excelled in evocation magic, but fell short in most other fields like hexes and healing, making her a rather uninteresting protege. As she was aging out of the circle slowly without the scientific inclination her family has decided to push her towards military service. If she could not support the family's good standing by her apprenticeship she could at least show their devotion to Tevinter at the border.

After signing up she's done her first 4 years by various imperial borders, spending most of her time by Nevarra and Anderfels. Faced with either returning to the capital and her parents who would see her join the nobility on the salons or signing up for another military contract she chose the latter, this time initially stationed by the Free Marches she ended up sent to Seheron where she's spent nearly 2 years, fighting for Tevinter.

By the end of the second year there was not much left in her to give thus, ultimately she's been discharged at 27 and sent back to her family in Minrathous, where shortly after her return they've made sure to parade her around as a proof of their devotion to the country. Having already lost nearly third of her life for the service, Alectris fails to blend in with the socialite, who are either too arrogant or too stupid for her tastes, while they in turn see her as someone too brutish for their refined sensibilities.

About 2 years pass by the time Solas' ritual happens and Tris feels disconnected from both her fellow soldiers by the nature of her background and the higher society by the lack of shared experiences. At this juncture she finds herself drawn to both Lucerni in the magisterium and the Shadow Dragons as a means of carving out some space for herself in the world that does not seem to be used to people in her position.

Trivia:

Morning person (extremely morning person, usually one to be up first)

Loves storms and rain

Loves the sea

Loves watching the sunrise

Has a lot of physical ticks (taps fingers on the table, taps heel on the floor, bites nails)

She plays piano (always wanted to play violin, but her eldest brother was made to learn it first and why would you have multiple children playing the same instrument?)

Loves fruits, sour the most

Dislikes sweets

Loves herbology, alchemy and poisons studies, she can craft basic potions if needed, but best keep her out of any laboratory (or kitchen, this lady doesn't know how to cook)

[cybershock24601]

Ur cooking with the mourn watch rook posts tbh, it bums me out so bad that it's the least popular origin because the idea of finding a baby IN A CRYPT is so wild and has so much going for it. My rook is a sweet little fella who loves chocolate and is nice to everyone but was raised by skeletons and says the weirdest morbid shit without a second thought

the crypt baby aspect was exactly why I chose the mourn watch origin. it's just too perfect and every single mourn watch dialogue I've gotten since has been great. the fact that you can't be weirder is such a let down but understandable because the dialogue has to fit for every origin and my personal Rook cope is that Rook is just trying to be so Normal at all times and then just says some insane out of pocket stuff anyways (i love you purple rook options) but at least they weren't talking about corpses and spirits so Rook counts that as a success. Rook used Varric and Harding as her measuring stick for what's normal outside of Nevarra and that's resulted in a very sarcastic but overly nice personality. every conversation Rook is asking herself "what would varric/harding say?" and it gets her pretty mixed results

[marshmallsy]

man you know the obsession is getting bad when you start creating tevinter/antiva/nevarra/etc. fashion inspo boards so you have good references to design insane outfits for fanart purposes

[auricfog]

🖊️ 💤 🍎 💘 for your current fave? oxox

doing this for jen AND aldonza just because........ i can and jen never stops being my fave. thank you sophie 🥰

jen

🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos?

She has a cluster of flowers on her left thigh that she got on a dare in college. It's in just the right spot that you wouldn't be able to see it without her being undressed (scandalous, I know 😔) and so it's not common knowledge that she has one. I don't think she'd ever get any more, but I also don't think she'd be entirely against it either depending on the idea.

💤 answered here!

🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

She was born in Richmond, Virginia, but had been living in Roseville, Florida for a good eight-ish years (i think. idk math i'm dyslexic as hale) when the Entity snatched her up. She does end up moving back there to be with her adoptive parents, Rosemary and John, in my little escape verse! She really needed her mom and dad when everything was done and over with. That said, her feelings on the city as a whole are a little complicated simply because she associates it with her childhood traumas.

💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

Without a doubt, it'd be Kit (@carrionsflower) 🩷!! Her closest friend... her something more. Their bond is insane and she finds a comfort in him that she's never found in anybody else.

aldonza

🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos?

She doesn't have any and I don't think she'd want one either.

💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your oc a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits?

She sleeps like a rock. Not a damned thing can stir her once she's out. However, she's grown accustomed to the luxuries of being the mistress to one of the most powerful men in Nevarra and needs a soft mattress, silk sheets, and a massive amount of fluffy pillows to even fall asleep first. Good luck to her trying to camp.

🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

She was born in the Tellari swamps of Antiva and raised in Seleny, but has been living in Nevarra City for forty-one years. She openly hates it! Antiva is where her heart belongs and Fritz passing was a wonderful excuse for her to make plans to return home.

💘 answered here!

[lesbiansforboromir]

The existence of the Circullum AND the inworld confirmation that it APPARENTLY does work as intended, (Neb's ''soul'' seemed to not only recognise Miriam but also have a pretty complete understanding of the situation it had been summoned into), creates absolutely insane questions and implications around the canon workings of death and the afterlife in Dragon Age. It would also make the entire country of Nevarra so giddy with excitement they'd pass out en masse.

[heroesvow]

me knowing we're gonna be able to explore tevinter, weisshaupt, antiva, rivain, nevarra for the first time and also the main villains as far as we know are the ELVEN GODS. being a lore freak is really paying off i am insane rn

here is hoping a future title finally confirms andraste was a blood mage!!

[mydragonsareageing]

if it turns out that nevarra IS, in fact, balkan/byzantine for realsies I will jump for joy and kick my heels in glee. I will start frothing at the mouth like a rabid racoon and start going insane and I will be fkn unstoppable. I will be absolutely unbearable about this.

[mercurialmalcontent]

I WANT MOAR: Rasputin and his zombies, please :D

(From this ask meme!)

"More double-dipping?!" I ask in faux-outrage, because you know that Rasputin is my other beloved baby ♥

So Aud knows this but I don't think anyone else reading this would -- He was originally a character created for an RP that never ended up happening, so I repurposed him for the other NaNo project I started in 2005 before I realized that trying to write two at once was an exercise in insanity. I got to it in 2006 and wrote it as a serial web novel, Zombies In The Spring, which started out as fantasy comedy and ended up a sprawling, unfocused mess that weighed in at almost 150k words.

But I still loved my weird little necromancer and his weird little necromancer family (they're all very Addams Family inspired) and I wrote and roleplayed them with Aud and developed them. Over time I split off a biiiiig chunk of the worldbuilding for the backstory of Absolution, then warmed up to the idea of moving Rasputin and his city away from a gaslamp fantasy world and into the modern/near future solarpunk fantasy world Absolution exists in. And then I was at loose ends without a story for him, but after a lot of thinking and borrowing a flavor idea from @bleaksqueak, I came up with a more focused and less... cartoonish job for him than creating flesh golems for manual labor, worked out a sketch of his culture (partially inspired by DA's Nevarra, but "What if a death-focused culture was presented as joyful and caring, not grim and icky"), and from that realized that his whole thing of ethical reanimation could lend itself to him having to solve a murder mystery.

It's still cooking -- one major component I'm missing is the who and why of the murderer, which is kind of important!

[nirikeehan]

Thalia & her beloved cousin Pravin! Whumptober, 'don't move'

All right it's December but it's always Whumptober in my heart

I didn't quiiiite get to "don't move" but I feel like I got the spirit

Once more we return to Barovia for Curse of Strahd au! Thalia is on a journey with Blackwall, Pravin and @theluckywizard's Hawke to meet this guy they call Strahd von Zarovich. What could go wrong!??!?

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1647

---

The illustrious Fidencio Frye, celebrated bard and performer, stage name of one Pravin Talavera, third cousin and advisor to the Lady Inquisitor Thalia Trevelyan, has had quite enough of this fuckery, thank you very much. 

Go to Nevarra, she said. Look for Barovia, she said. It’ll be an adventure, she said. Well, Pravin remembers why he doesn’t like adventures of this sort — the traipsing around in the woods sort, ignoring the distant howls of what sound like very hungry wolves sort. Give him the city life and courtly intrigue. Do not give him dismal muddy trails and the never ending fog and a place from which the locals claim they can never escape. 

He thinks all this with the raw cold seeping into his arms as he leans against the stonework bridge over an immense falls. The road from Barovia village to Castle Ravenloft takes its bloody time. Since they left that unnerving gallows crossroads, they have wound their way across the precipice of a mountain and emerged at some sort of natural rock formation traversed by a massive stone bridge. Pravin squints over the edge — roaring water plunges easily a thousand feet into a lake below. The jutting mountains give way to a narrow valley down there, and if Pravin squints, he can see past the rolling mist to a scene that might be considered picturesque. If the damn sun would ever come out. 

He sighs, glancing over at his cousin. Thalia has taken this resting point as an opportunity to inspect the bridge’s stonework. The traitor Thom Rainier hovers a little too close to her as she studies the giant, moss-covered gargoyles standing sentinel at the bridge’s entrance. The Champion of Kirkwall perches on the edge a few feet away from Pravin, dangling long legs over the precipice and humming to himself as if he wasn’t one slip away from plunging to his death. Sanguine is one way to describe Hawke, an infuriatingly handsome man with spectacular sideburns and mischievous blue eyes. But for Pravin, honed by a life of caution and discretion required of a bard, Hawke flirts a little too closely with recklessness. She can be a thrilling mistress, but spend too much time with her, and you’ll soon find you’re courting insanity. And the insane rarely live long in his line of work. 

Pravin straightens, adjusts his half-cape and hat, and turns to Hawke, his voice carefully lowered. “Might I ask — what did you mean earlier? When you mentioned your time with Lady Thalia in the Fade.” The comment has been bothering him for many miles, as well as the anxious expression on Thalia’s face as she studied those blank tombstones at the crossroads. 

“Oh.” A dismissive wave from the Champion. “The Nightmare demon we encountered tried to prey on our psyches. We found a graveyard there, with many of our names stamped in it. Along with what I assume were deep, terrible insecurities — worst fears, that sort of thing.” 

Thalia refused to speak much of her time in the Fade, and for that Pravin is grateful. Everything he hears about it is ghastly. Dread crawls up his spine. “You assume? Why is that?” 

“Well, my name certainly wasn’t there. Nor was the Inquisitor’s. And I’m too polite to inquire about the rest.” Hawke nimbly stands and hops down to the floor of the bridge. “I’d toss a copper over for good luck, but given our present circumstances, we should probably pool our resources.” 

“Hang on,” Pravin interjects, “whose names were there? Was— was I—” He shudders to think that his own might have been among them, on display for Thalia, Hawke, Stroud and her field team.

“No.” Hawke flashes him a rakish grin. “Your secrets are safe, it seems.” 

Pravin breathes a sigh of relief. Hawke jerks a thumb in the direction of the gargoyles. “Warden Blackwall, on the other hand—”

“You mean Thom Rainier.” 

“Potato, po-tah-to.” 

Pravin scoffs. “It is hardly a matter of pronunciation.” 

Hawke eyes him, then bends down to pick up the scabbard he discarded when deciding to tempt fate with the bridge. “If you’re going to be petty, maybe I shan’t tell you.” 

Pravin crosses his arms. “Well, it can’t have been ‘execution.’”

“Maybe you should ask him yourself.” Hawke’s look is entirely too smug as he clips the sword belt around his waist. 

“He won’t talk to me. Hasn’t for months.” Not since the night they’d spent together at the safe house in Orlais, when Pravin forced him to shave his bread. The beard is back with a vengeance, but Rainier’s hatred for him still runs deep. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.” As much as Pravin wants to know what scares Rainier the most, it’s all inconsequential in the grand scheme of the predicament in which they’ve found themselves. It’s probably having a small dick. 

Hawke picks up his pack and waves to Thalia and Rainier, who have given up their architectural scrutiny and are crossing the bridge to join them. “Think we ought to get a move on. I’m eager to see this vampire’s castle up close and personal.”

Pravin has a sudden pang of apprehension. He surges forward, grabbing Hawke by the arm. “Do you truly think this is a good idea?”

“Of course I do.” Hawke’s smile is all charm. “The world is awash in small time tyrants. If this one has lured us here, I’d like to look him in the eyes and see what I’m up against.” 

“Right.” Pravin scowls. This is why he’s built for subterfuge. On an ideal day, the lord of the land would have no idea he exists. The thought of walking up to one and showing all their cards unnerves him. But Hawke and Thalia seem so confident, and Rainier will do whatever the lady says, so he’s outnumbered. If he hadn’t wanted to leave Thalia, he would have opted to go with Warden-Commander Kallian and her retinue.

The path plunges into the forest once more, and another hour or so passes in tense near-silence. Every so often the rolling fog clears, and a dark, towering silhouette looms above them to the east. Nestled in the side of a mountain, Castle Ravenloft looks as foreboding as it did when they first spied it from the gates of Barovia. Pravin swallows his nerves and focuses on the reassuring weight of his stiletto strapped to his thigh. 

At last, the road forks again. The left path winds further through the trees, but the right path widens, the loamy ground giving way to spots of worn cobblestones. The mist parts, revealing a large black carriage standing in the middle of the crossroads, facing down the right-leaning path. It is drawn by two large black horses, their breaths puffing in the raw air, but there is no driver. 

Pravin stutters to a halt; his gut clenches. “We have company,” he mutters, scanning the tree line for likely cover. 

Rainier pushes to the front of the line, sparing a quick glance at Thalia. “Get behind me.” He draws his sword, and Hawke is at Rainier’s side, doing the same.

Pravin inches to where Thalia stands, her hand on the staff strapped to her back. Her face is scrunched with determination, not fear, which makes Pravin feel even worse. “You don’t have to be the hero here,” he murmurs to her. “You’ve done that enough for one lifetime already.”

Thalia glances at him with her guileless blue eyes, and he can tell he’s wounded her. “I didn’t flinch when facing Corypheus. I have no intention of doing so now.” 

She moves past him, trailing Rainier and Hawke, leaving Pravin’s stomach twisted in knots in her wake. “Right.” He sighs and turns with a dramatic flourish, fingers twitching toward the hilt of his stiletto and having every squelch his nice boots make in the mud. 

The two warriors approach the carriage, Thalia at their heels. Pravin keeps at a distance, eyes scanning the woods on either side of the path. Ambush, his mind screams, although he can see no sign amidst the trees to back up this supposition. 

“Hello there,” Hawke calls jovially, his wave with his free hand at odds with the bared steel in the other. “We’re humble travelers from faraway lands, and we are hoping that you might be able to—”

There is no answer, but his call dies when the carriage door slowly creaks open. All four of them freeze. Pravin holds his breath, ignoring the urge to run. Waiting. 

Inside, the carriage is empty. A shiver snakes down Pravin’s spine. 

“Maker’s balls,” Rainier mutters.

“It must be magic,” Thalia says, too brightly. She looks at the others, almost excited. “This vampire could also be a powerful mage.” 

“Oh boy,” Pravin says sarcastically. 

Thalia cocks her head. “Do you think we ought to get in?”

“No,” says Pravin, at the same moment Hawke says, “Yes.” Rainier scowls, but says nothing. 

“Come now,” Hawke asks, clapping Pravin — too hard — on the shoulder. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” 

“I left it back at the tavern in Barovia village,” Pravin rejoins. “When the locals said these roads can kill us.”

“Yet we sent the Warden-Commander and the others bravely on ahead, and haven’t found signs that they’ve met an untimely demise.” 

“Yet.” Pravin glances up the road. On the high mountain, the castle silhouette looms. A chill hits him with a gust of wind.

He turns back, and Thalia is already climbing inside. “Thalia, please, for the love of the Maker, don’t—”

“It’s quite warm in here, actually,” Thalia says, sitting on a plush red velvet cushion. “And dry.” She sticks her head out and smiles. “Perhaps this Lord von Zarovich will be as reasonable as he is gracious.” 

“Maybe,” Pravin mutters, as Hawke and Rainier clamber in after her. He sighs, ignoring every instinct screaming inside him, and follows. 

[monstrousfemin1ne]

talissa isn’t strictly andrastian so much as she believes in multiple things: the maker, the gods of elven pantheon, the myth-legends of nevarra. growing up around the dead and tending to funeral rites, you experience so many different beliefs and backgrounds, they influence your own. you try them on like different shirts, finding which one fits best, but rather than as a singleminded worship, it’s honoring the knowledge of the world’s history. gods are important to their people, give them comfort and structure, and that’s what wins out for her. the gods create their people as much as their people create them.

drucilla is more spiritual than religious. her hatred for the circle dampened any interest in religion, and her adoptive mother was a rivaini seer, who, despite teen drucilla’s issues, came into her life at the right time and offered her a connection to more tangible, earthly things that made her feel comforted over a maker she couldn’t see. drucilla, similarly to talissa, holds on to the connections her loved ones had to these outlets. guinevere is andrastian and her faith is one of the few things she’s retained over the years, but it fluctuates with time. she’s not so arrogant to liken herself to andraste, but she does find comfort in the fact that andraste was a mortal woman like herself who faced insane challenges. the matter of, andraste not surviving those challenges is something she turns around in her head a lot. is there a people worth becoming a martyr for?