#or an ancient elf like whats his butt

[aroihkin]

Also, I took a full week off starting on Halloween, for Draaaagon Aaaage.

Y'all probably won't see much from me until I finish the game, I'm avoiding spoilers just like I did for Inquisition (and then foolishly made Alley my Inquisitor, and she digs competent, nerdy men, and I was in full RP mode so I went into SoLavellan blind).

I mean both she and I knew Solas was something by the end, but not what he turned out to be!

I might swing in once in a while to plaster up screenshots without really looking at my dash. I'll tag them accordingly tho.

[an-established-butt-dent]

To sleep, to dream, to forget

AO3

Author: DazeChroma (that is me)

Cover art: an-established-butt-dent (also me)

Fandom: Dragon Age, Pairing: Solas x Lavellan, Words: 4,841, Tags: Post Trespasser, Angst, Lavellan deals with the emotional aftermath.

Notes: see end for notes!

There are a million ways to say goodbye, but they have yet to learn of a way that is final. After the Crossroads, Allana leaves everything behind and travels. She is alone, but for a wolf that keeps visiting her dreams.

To sleep, to dream, to forget

Lavellan knew the wolf haunting her dreams.

Perhaps she should fear the shadow lurking on the edge of her peripheral vision, but this was the Fade and she was in control of her dreams. She wore an enchanted amulet, beautiful, with the added benefit of preventing others from intruding on her dreamscape. A parting gift from Dorian.

Even one as skilled and powerful as the Dreadwolf would not be able to reach her, unless she let him.

But that was precisely it. She would never admit it out loud, but somehow had yet to force his presence away. To banish him from her subconscious. Instead, she had left a window open at a crack. 

Maybe it was confusion after their confrontation in the Crossroads. Maybe it was her anger, demanding more explanations from him.

Maybe she missed him.

Solas.

Mentally she scolded herself. She shouldn't use that name. The quiet apostate she had come to know, come to love, was not the same man planning the downfall of the world. Her heart was broken and Solas was dead, as much as he could be for having never truly existed.

But the Dreadwolf, Fen'harel, lived.

Ancient trickster god indeed.

Sometimes she tried to think of the elf from her memories as someone different altogether. A quiet mage lost in dreams who perhaps had planned to return to her. To explain why he left without goodbye after Corypheus' defeat. To bring reason to the many questions left unanswered and wounds left unmended. 

The Solas in this imagined life might have helped her shed the Inquisitor’s cloak. Might have held her in comfort throughout the emotional aftermath. 

Somehow it made the feeling of betrayal slightly easier to bear.

'-What we had was real'

The words left a bitter taste in her mouth still. 

Perhaps it had all been real to him. But to her it was an illusion.  

The wolf in sheeps’ clothing had not been the lover in her arms. The Dread Wolf had not been her companion, her advisor, mentor, friend, Vhenan- 

Denial was not a good look on her, but it gave her peace and quiet. 

And this chasm in her chest, this aching void pumping blood through numb limbs… It propelled her  forward. Yet, she felt devoid of the passion and perseverance that moved her before. 

Well.

You can't break what's already broken. Can't lose what you don't have.

-

After the Inquisition disbanded, she had felt lost. Alone.

She needed time to process everything: the loss of her arm, the long years fighting to end Corypheus and then building the world back up again only to be followed by the upheaval of the exalted council, the pain in her chest. Again there was a moment where the world spun on its axis, throwing everything she knew off-balance. Again.

She had come undone, the only thing keeping her together was the feeling of Revas’ long strides over the open plains. 

Only a Dalish would pick that name for a hart, but he earned his name, spirited and wild as he was before he accepted Allana as his rider. He was her only companion.

Her eyes scanned the horizon, but there was no silhouette following her. No shadow in the waking world.

She stayed clear of civilization, only stopping for provisions. She kept to herself, used her voice so little she almost forgot what it sounded like. 

She traveled for weeks like this, a strong pace forward. Needing to get away. Always away. Every moment spent in one place too long and her chest would constrict, a panic building that could only be relieved by the comfort of changing landscapes.

'You lied to me!'

She wanted to escape. To forget. 

She wanted to be wild like her hart. Wanted to be free.

Revas: her freedom.

Revas, revas, revas!

-

She drifted weightlessly through the fade. Time seemed to stand still as she floated through the pleasant warmth of her early memories.

No terror haunted her. No fear demon pulled threads of horrible memories across her vision. Nothing clawed at her. She was safe.

Only one shadow she could not shake. 

She could admit it, now. When the storms of her doubts and fears had quieted down, and she was not drowning, on the brink of being pulled under-

No.

Not now.

She breathed in, and out. At peace, you're safe, she told herself.

The storm calmed down.

He never truly showed himself at first. But she expected him to know that she could sense him.

It had been him, chasing the despair demons away in the nights before she had Dorian’s amulet. She had seen the flash of teeth and six red eyes prowling on the edge of her peripheral vision. Hungry, angry, but not for her. A lonely howl, a loud screech and a wolf had dragged the dark shadows away until she was alone once again.

The terror had melted away with the echo of the wolf's cry.

Curious spirits were discouraged from approaching her afterwards, and she could finally breathe with relief, knowing to expect a night of rest without waking in cold sweat from nightmares.

She scoffed, wondering what keeper Deshanna would say if she knew the presence of the Dreadwolf gave her some measure of comfort.

She would probably call upon all the ancient gods for guidance. To protect her lonely runaway Da'len from the Dreadwolf’s treachery.

But he has your scent.

And you have his heart.

-

She was almost at the coast now, where she would book passage for a ship to Starkhaven. She planned to cross the waking sea at Jader and travel to Antiva after a short stop in Kirkwall. Other than that she hadn’t decided on her plans for the future.

She had set up camp at a clearing near an old ruin. Then, she took her time to make dinner, enjoying her quiet surroundings and knowing this might be her last night sleeping peacefully under the stars for the coming week.

Revas would surely not be happy on a ship.

She looked regretfully at her hart, wishing there was another way to cross safely, without needing a ship or an Eluvian.

As she only had access to one of those options, her choice was made swiftly.

She climbed into her sleeping roll, twisting and turning until she lay comfortably on her side. Listening to her hart grazing nearby, she drifted off to sleep.

-

He had become bolder after she started wearing the amulet. 

Perhaps he wondered how she had found peace in her dreams? Perhaps her aura, pleasantly free of fear and despair, had pulled him in?

Could he sense the enchantment? Could he see she now had more control over the Fade? 

He had tried to teach her many times, but never had she managed this level of lucidity.

Did he observe curiously what strings she pulled, and which memories she traversed?

She always made sure not to dive into memories of their time as lovers. Those memories were locked away deeply, only to be revealed during waking moments of weakness where she allowed herself the time to wallow in her misery.

A slight change in the air alerted her to his presence.

Soundlessly, a shadow big as a hill moved over the horizon until she made out the shape of four clawed paws slowly treading over the grass-covered plane.

He held his head close to the ground, curiously following the invisible line of energy that lingered in her wake. Tracing her scent which was as recognizable and personal as a fingerprint in the land of dreams. Wisps of black smoke trailed his fur, distorting the landscape.

Sensing her, he slowly lifted his massive head as six red glowing eyes fixed themselves on her.

His name was on the tip of her tongue. She quickly swallowed it down, her throat suddenly dry. This was the first time he didn’t disappear as soon as they made eye contact. She was rooted on the spot, not moving an inch, afraid that any change would break the spell. The sudden wave of longing that washed over her came as a surprise. The sharp ache that quickly followed didn’t. 

Then there was anger.

He took one more step towards her and tilted his head to the side, giving the impression of being unsure if he was looking at threat or prey.

Hoping she was neither, she stood still. She could feel her heart beating in her throat, uncomfortably aware of the tension building in the air. It was like the climate changed and became hotter, the air sticky and suffocating, shaped by the emotions of her inner turmoil.

He took a step toward her, and then she felt the Fade shift.

It was her own doing.

Suddenly she was alone again, overlooking the same mountains where Skyhold stood proudly in the distance. Her home.

She felt relieved that she could breathe again. The air was lighter, the sky brighter, although everything in the fade had a disorienting, ghostlike quality to it. Colors were more intense and subdued at the same time, clouded by a mist you could see only when you focused on it intensely.

Her racing pulse calmed down as she kept her attention on the familiar mountains. Two falcons slowly circled the sky, its colors giving the impression of a setting sun.

‘He is only a stranger. A stranger you once knew’, she told herself over and over.

Yet, he did not scare her. At least not for the reasons one should be afraid of a massive ghostly wolf-shadow trailing their subconscious.

Perhaps she should have confided in Lelliana, Cullen or Josephine about his presence in her dreams. But the Inquisition was no more, so sharing these developments felt... too personal, too intimate. She didn't want to think about it. Nor, for that matter, did she want anyone else to.

The Dreadwolf has your scent.

Why was he still keeping his tabs on her, even after their goodbyes? 

'I will never forget you.' 

No of course not, idiot, if he kept following her like this! 

She could feel her anger shaping the Fade around her, the soft, wispy clouds and sharp mountain peaks crumbling. She was taken to a place darker. Deep down, deep roads, stone, damp air, echoes of fighting. A darkspawns’ screech bounced around on the slick walls of the chasm. Still far in the distance but growing louder with each panicked breath she took. The high pitch surrounded her. Darkness enveloped her like a suffocating blanket. The screams of the dead in her memories ringing like white noise in her ear, drowning out her thoughts except; ’Can’t breath!’.

Panicked, she started to run.

Feet thump, thump, thumping on the slippery stones. The echoes grew louder, a horde of demon’s awakened by the steady rhythm of her long strides. She was a hunter being hunted. The echoes of the past not brought forth by demon’s of anger or fear, but by her own traumatized subconscious. Looking for a way out.

Abruptly she skipped to a halt. Reaching for the amulet. 

There were no demons. They can’t reach her. 

All of a sudden she could hear a voice breaking through the clouds of her panic.

“Allana, breathe like we practiced, you are in control.” a strange voice resonated from the walls, seeming to come from all sides at once and yet far away. A voice she could recognize everywhere.

The revelation shocked her, but grounded her mind. The demons were drawing near. Memories, which could do no more physical harm unless she let them. Remembering what part would come next she needed to end it here. Right now.

She closed her eyes, taking a breath. 

In through the nose-

-one, two, three, four. 

Hold for five seconds, let go for six.

She opened her eyes and was again back looking at the sharp outlines of the Frostback Mountains.

The image shifted and the air smelled of spring. Warmth.

Soft winds blowing across open planes. A body of water flowing like a silver snake across the landscape, casting crystallized reflections on billowing trees. A group white halla taking off, startled by her sudden appearance. She watched them for a moment as they darted across the grass in a dance; a playful homage to freedom. They slowly disappeared along the soft edges of her dream, carrying memories of her life with the Dalish. Of an old home, and a life before the world was ending.

Safe.

On the horizon she could just see the tilt of the head of a wolf, watching from afar. Waiting.

She remembered the voice.

She could not suppress the shiver running along her spine. She wondered what would happen if she called out to him. 

She never did.

-

She missed her friends. 

Somehow her shadow in the Fade made her feel more lonesome. 

It almost became a routine. Push and pull. Following and being followed. It was like a game. She realized with some humor the parallel between their dynamic during the early inquisition years and now. Some things never change.

She would like to talk about her confusing feelings with someone that would understand. But who would? Who could sympathize with a woman, the herald, falling for the affections of the enemy in disguise?

When would she be strong enough to break the chains of their entanglement?

Did she not deserve some peace and quiet? To find out who she was without the responsibilities and expectations resting on her shoulders? 

But her work was not over.

She had considered stepping away, and letting things unfold without interfering. But she couldn’t. Tired as she was, she didn't know how not to be Inquisitor Lavellan. 

All she needed now was a plan. 

How to stop your ex-lover from destroying the world? Your ex-lover, who was, by the way, also an ancient Elvhen God and probably the most powerful Mage to walk the planet?

That did not sound impossible at all.

Damn, she really just kept handing out new book ideas to Varric, didn't she? 

-

Whenever the desire to reach out came up, she swallowed it down.

She didn’t want comforting words from her friends, nor their pitied looks and gentle skirting around certain subjects. 

'Are you sure you're alright? If you need anyone to talk to...'

After the Exalted Council she had turned down all invitations to her friends’ new lives for the time being. She promised to visit once she was ready, and that was enough for them to accept her evasion. For now.

Except Dorian was not having any of it.

He had cornered her the day before she was scheduled to leave. She hadn't wanted a goodbye but he had convinced her he was planning no such thing. 

"Only a present for my dearest friend. Looking as glum as you do I would almost fear sadness is contagious," he had said with a pout.

She had fixed him with a glare, but there had been no true malice behind it. Dorian was perhaps the only one not treating her as if she was made from glass. She appreciated that about him.

"You know a present is not going to convince me to join you in Tevinter, darling dearest," she patted his cheek patronizingly, batting her eyelashes for extra effect.

"Of course not! I wouldn't dare to manipulate you with something so banal as a gift. Who do you think I am? I would at least try to seduce you with my good looks first." He gave her an exaggerated wink and she couldn't stop something that almost resembled an honest smile. She raised her eyebrows at his flirtations. He was laying it on a little bit thick, even for Dorian's standards.

Perhaps humor was the only thing guarding the show of real concern from his face.

"Without further ado, then. Come on, hands out." 

He revealed a small package wrapped in cloth and tied closed with a string of leather.

She hesitantly held out her hand as Dorian sandwiched it between his own, the package a comforting shape in the palm of her hand.

She stared at their joined hands for a moment, swallowing whatever words she would have used to deflect his show of care.

He squeezed her hand once and let go.

"It's not going to unwrap itself, Allana."

She sighed, glad that his sarcasm broke through the tender moment. He knew she appreciated his friendship. She is also aware he's worried about her, like they all are. She was just bad at accepting any kind of support, afraid that leveling the slightest bit of weight from her shoulders would cause it all to come crashing down, burying her fully. 

She needed to be Inquisitor for only one day longer, to keep up the pretense of strength and composure. She could deal with whatever might come crashing down after she left. But not now. Not yet.

"Yes, yes," she huffed at his impatience. Maker, give a girl a moment to compose herself!

She unwrapped the bundle and found an amulet, the telltale pulse of enchantment around it. She looked up at him, waiting for the explanation that would no doubt come.

"This will give us an opportunity to communicate directly, no matter how far away you are. I know you will be miserable without my voice pestering you over the coming months," He pulled out a similar-looking amulet from under his collar and tucked it back, giving her a gentle smile. 

She blinked at the wetness threatening to spill over.

He grasped her shoulders and gently pulled her into a hug. She was glad for the excuse to avert her eyes.

Dorian never mentioned her not-so-subtle lack of grip on her emotions. He knew when she needed the space.

He continued, "It also helps you block out unwanted attention in the fade. No terror demons will find you when you sleep at night and no other spirit will be able to communicate if you don't wish for it. It keeps you bound to your own head, in a sense." She was not sure how Dorian knew about the kind of attention she’s received in the fade, but she’s touched nonetheless. 

"Thank you, Dorian," Ellana mumbles into the fabric of his tunic. "Don't expect me to talk every day though."

"No need, darling. It just makes me happy to know you ignoring me is a conscious choice, and doesn’t mean you are lying in a ditch somewhere."

She snorts, a very undignified sound. "After all I've been through, that ditch doesn't know what's coming for them."

"As long as that fighter spirit never leaves you, my friend," She chuckles wordlessly into his shoulder. She doesn't feel much like a fighter at the moment, although her rogue skills are a second instinct. 

She is tired. But she’s looking for something more comfortable than a ditch just yet.

"Thank you, Dorian."

"Don't get all emotional on me, darling."

She will miss him, but she has to go.

-

The nightmares that had plagued her for weeks vanished after she started to wear the amulet. It was truly Dorian to know the source of the bags under her eyes without her needing to say a word. 

'Bad night?' was all he had to ask, and the look she gave him was enough to know.

Years ago, about a month after he had joined the Inquisition, it had only taken one evening of getting drunk together in a cozy corner of the library to share all the secrets that haunted them at night. While the candles burned low, she learned how their experience of the future at Redcliffe had left a deep impression on them both. The red, terrible future of Corypheus’ would-be victory. Thankfully it was not a future she would have to experience again. That was at least one thing she got right.

He was her closest friend after that evening, their shared pain forming a bond like no other. Ha! Who would have thought. A Tevinter Magister and a Dalish elf? Well, she was never fond of living an ordinary life anyway. It takes one to know one.

The only thing haunting her now was a nightmare of her own creation. Made of pain, self loathing and longing, twisting uncomfortably in the hollow of her chest.

That is one thing the amulet will not help her with: the ghost of a broken heart.

She had yet to find a way to live with it, but time heals all wounds. Or so they say.

But then, why, after revealing his plans, did he tell her that he would like to be proven wrong once again? Why taunt her into resuming their game of evade and catch?

Except if you're called Fen'Harel. Too pridefull to accept your failure, somehow incapable of letting go of your evil plans to restore the glory of the ancient Elvhes and simultaneously doom the lives of all other living beings and the world as we know it.

Damn it all and damn his insufferable pride.

For someone refusing to call himself a god, he sure does like to play with the faiths of mortals.

And why did she believe the sincerity in his eyes when he said it? The pain in the tilt of his brow and the clench of his jaw, the way his voice broke when he said goodbye?

He had called her Vhenan, and walked away. Did she imagine the tremble in his hands, just before he stepped through the Eluvian?

Why had he kept himself hidden from her, lied to her, for years?

What makes a cause worth it, if you have to destroy so much on the way?

Why, Solas?

No, not Solas. Not anymore.

Fen'Harel.

-

She is going after him.

There must be a reason he can’t let her go. If he haunts her dreams, does that mean he still thinks of her when he’s awake?  It must mean that there is something still there, pulling her to him. Perhaps only a side effect of the magic from the anchor, but could it be something more?

He said once things were easier for him in the fade. All she knows right now is that he tried to reach out to her in a dream before she boarded the ship.

He even spoke her name when she got lost in a nightmare. He helped her escape her darkest thoughts. Why?

But was it really him in the dreams? Was this wolf form his true identity? Why doesn’t he show the face that she had come to know? Are the greys of his eyes even his true color? Or are they red and multiplied by three? 

In the dream she stepped away out of fear and that fear fuelled her subconscious mind. Afraid of confrontation. Scared to find a fresh tear in her threadbare composure, with the wounds still raw from his betrayal and abandonment.

To fall apart before him while she had slowly tried to mend the pieces back together, that was not something she was ready for.

She wasn’t strong enough.

How much has he kept hidden from her and how much of what he shared had been real?

Ugh, now there’s a terrifying thought.

Is it possible that he can be at more places at the same time. Dreaming while awake?

Being an immensely powerful immortal mage and all, she really has no exact idea of the extent of his power.

She looked out over the open expanse of the sea. Rippling waves and cutting winds shaping the world around her like a smudged painting of greys and muted pthalo greens. The salt had chapped her lips, and the strands of hair that had escaped her braid whip her face and wipe at her tears like feathered fingers.

She hadn't seen him in her dreams for the last three days, since setting sail on the open ocean. What did it mean? Did he ignore her perhaps?  Were there not enough spirits to whisper of her location? 

She was not going to admit to missing her grey shadow welcoming her to sleep for the last couple of months. 

Somehow being by herself for a few days, truly by herself, made it easier to recover her focus. She was not going to run away anymore. She could not abandon the world she once vowed to save. 

She made him doubt his perspective once before. She can do it again.

Right?

She is Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan, first of her clan. She has been many things in her short life; Herald, Dalish, knife-ear, a beacon of hope. Lover, friend, enemy. An anchor to the world behind the veil. 

She had united nations and destroyed treacherous plots. She had traveled through time and back again. She had fought nightmares, ancient darkspawn, dragons and demons. She has walked physically through the Fade, damn it!

She had fallen in love with a god. Had been betrayed by her lover. He saved her life and then took her arm.

She had promised she would not give up on him. He had said he would never forget her.

None of those experiences managed to destroy her, although they came close a few times. None of those titles made her forget who she was and what she believed in, and they will not be her undoing now. 

She was Elana Lavellan. They say heroes are not destined for a long life, but could she linger long enough to beat the Dreadwolf at his own game?

Did she even have a chance? Or would she end up petrified, a grey and decaying sculpture in the garden of his pride? Would they sing songs of the Dreadwolf’s lover? Would they say that if you listen closely to her chest you can still hear the beating of his heart?

The only reason she was still alive is because he willed it. 

That didn’t really sound like the equal and emancipated relationship she envisioned when she dreamed of the future long ago, now does it?

But the look in his eyes. The pain she glimpsed when he left her in crestwood. And then, the times where his body betrayed what the heart wanted. He had tried to hide it, but there was no doubt in her mind that he had desired her. The desperation in his kiss on the balcony at Skyhold. 'Ar lath ma', whispered like a confession, 'vhenan' a prayer on his lips. And then in the crossroads the gentleness in the movement of gold-plated fingers, grazing her ear and softening the pulsating pain of the anchor ripping her apart. His lips pressing to hers like it was the sweetest honeyed lie he told her yet. Like it wasn’t a goodbye. 

She is going to chase that last sliver of hope. It is all she has.

She must create a thread, to pull him from his web of plotting and lies. There must be some way to keep his focus on the value of this world. To show him it was worth saving. An anchor of some kind.

The journey at sea would take one more day at most. The best course of action would be to visit the alienage of Kirkwall. She had heard of the elves leaving the city, answering a call. She must be able to uncover one of his agent’s to dig for more information. Could she disguise herself? Without her arm she would always stand out like a sore thumb. Everybody knew the stories of the knife eared Inquisitor and her stolen arm. The Dreadwolf’s agent must know of her importance in the game. Knowing that she had been close to their leader once, she could turn out to be a potential weakness.

Okay, so first she would find a smith and fabricate herself an arm substitute. Oh how she missed Dagna. The dwarven woman must have had a million ideas for hidden daggers in a fake arm! She could meet with Varric in secret, and use his contacts in the city. She hadn’t planned to stay in Kirkwall for more than a day, but she’s sure her friend wouldn’t mind the surprise. He shouldn’t have given her the city's key if he hadn’t anticipated her showing up unannounced.

Okay, step one, disguise her arm. Step two, disguise her identity. Step tree: find more information.

What is Fen’Harel gathering the Elves for? Promises of a better world? Are they joining of their free will or is it some kind of death cult compulsion? No he wouldn't go that far… or would he? She has to find out. The more gaps in her knowledge about him, the wilder her imagination is going to get.

The ocean calms her mind. The harsh winds wipe away the doubt and leave her mind clear and focused.

She has a purpose, a plan. 

On the horizon she can slowly spot the soft outlines of Starkhaven forming in the distance. They are nearing land.

The wolf hunts alone, but she is lonely too.

And she is coming for him.

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

Notes:

My second try at writing a Solavellan piece, but the first one I ever uploaded on AO3! Hope you liked it. :)

Big thanks to my sister @colorandvigor for being my beta and having an amazing grasp of gramar. Note, english is not my first language.

x

[daitranscripts]

Sera Romance: What Pride Had Wrought

Elfy Shite

Sera Masterpost Related Quest: What Pride Had Wrought

Before heading to the Arbor Wilds Sera: Marching the Lot of us right up an ancient elf hole? Can’t wait to see more… woods.

The PC opens the door to Sera’s room in the Herald’s Rest.

Choice dependent dialogue:

PC drank [1]

Morrigan drank, asked Abelas about ancient elves [2]

Morrigan drank, did not ask Abelas about elves [3]

1 - PC drank Sera: Oh, hi, yeah? Listen, stand there. Right there.

She draws her bow and points an arrow at the PC

Sera: Now, about Mythal.

Dialogue options:

Anxious: Put that away! [4]

Angry: I just wanted to talk! [5]

Confused: What should my reaction be? [6]

4 - Anxious: Put that away! PC: Sera, whatever’s wrong, we can talk about it! Sera: Oh, for… ! Don’t piss yourself, I just wanted to make sure it was you in there! [7]

5 - Angry: I just wanted to talk! PC: Don’t aim that in my face, Sera! What is wrong with you! Sera: What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? If that is you. [7]

6 - Confused: What should my reaction be? PC: Sera, I don’t know what reaction you want, but can this be it so we can be done? a: All right, so maybe it’s still you. Someone needed to do something. [7]

7 - Scene continues.

Sera puts her bow away.

Sera: I mean, you went wading into a “Well of Sorrows.” Who hears that and thinks, “Well, dunk a butt, let’s have a go!”

Sera (asked about ancient elves): Even mad old Abelas said elves destroyed themselves. The only believable bit in a sea of clear demon bait. Sera (did not ask about ancient elves): I mean, that whole place, clearly demon bait. Top to bottom.

Sera: It makes messing with their relics real stupid. So! Test done, you’re still you. We can leave these lies behind. [12]

2 - Morrigan drank, asked Abelas about ancient elves Sera: (Stifled laugh.) I’m sorry. Oh, wait, no, I’m not. It’s just the funniest, innit? That creaky old Abelas in Mythal saying the elves weren’t destroyed by Tevinter?

General: A painful admission for him. [8]

General: You’re gloating? [9]

General: What’s so funny about it? [10]

8 - General: A painful admission for him. PC: An admission that did not come easy. Sera: Course it didn’t, because that’s elfy elves’ thing, being the sore losers of history. I never hear the end of it. [11]

9 - General: You’re gloating? PC: That’s some “long dead” you’re gloating over. Sera: Pfft, about time I got mine back. Elfy elves have shoved “victim” in my face a million times. [11]

10 - General: What’s so funny about it? PC: If that’s a joke, I don’t get it. Sera: Everyone is always, “Oh, poor elves, victims of this and whatever.” But the empire ate itself. Love it. [11]

11 - Scene continues.

Sera (Dalish PC): We’re not “proper” if we aren’t sad about the grand history “stolen” from us. Turns out we’re no better than anyone else. Sera (non-Dalish PC): Like being sad makes them better than me. Turns out, they’re not victims. They’re the same as everyone else: arseholes.

Sera: Plus, a big, old temple full of demon-worshipping lies. Grand, that. [12]

3 - Morrigan drank, did not ask Abelas about elves Sera: Oh, hi, you! Strange days, right? Weird elves and Morrigan going wading. Better her than you. Glad to be back where things make sense after the demon-worshipping lies of Mythal. When do we go after What’s-his-lumps? [12]

12 - Dialogue options:

Investigate (PC drank): This threat was a test? [13]

General: You think Mythal was all lies? [14]

General: This was about demon worship? [15]

General: What do you mean? [16]

13 - Investigate: This threat was a test? PC: How was aiming an arrow at my face a test? Sera: I heard once that if you’re possessed, the demon will defend itself against attack. Sounds stupid to say it out loud. I don’t know. I don’t know demons. At least if it’s true, the arrow’s right there. I’m sorry, yeah? Morrigan’s probably got better ways, but who can trust her?

Dialogue options:

Special: Never again, you hear me? [17] -Sera slightly disapproves

[Back to 12]

17 - Special: Never again, you hear me? PC: You never do that to me again. Sera: Fine, all right. Sorry I don’t know how to deal with rubbish no one was meant to. [back to 12]

14 - General: You think Mythal was all lies? PC: You seem pretty certain. You don’t believe anything from Mythal? Sera: Course not. What, I should believe all that stuff “because elves”?

15 - General: This was about demon worship? PC: So your main takeaway is that elves worshipped demons? Sera: Well, they never call them that, yeah? But that’s what it had to be.

16 - General: What do you mean? PC: Why are you dismissing what happened in Mythal? Sera: Of course. None of it holds up.

18 - Scene continues.

Sera: I mean, it was impressive and all. Makes the Dalish look like tits for living in the woods. But so what? There can’t be a bunch of gods and the Maker. Don’t matter how much or little you believe, those don’t fit. So call me stupid, but I believe the stuff not made up by dead people who failed. Mythal is a ruin full of demons. I mean, it just makes sense, right?

Choice dependent dialogue:

Non-Dalish PC [19] Dalish PC [20]

19 - Non-Dalish PC Dialogue options:

General: But what if even some is true? PC: There’s so much history there. What if some of it is true? -Sera slightly disapproves ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

General: I believe it was all true. PC: The evidence is hard to ignore. I believe it. -Sera slightly disapproves ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

General: I agree it was all lies. [31] +Sera greatly approves

Sera: No, now you’re stupid. You can’t think that, because it’s stupid.

PC: But everything we saw?

Sera: Why believe it? Because Abelas looked weird? If that’s all it takes, Coryphy-shitheel is full of lumpy truth.

Sera: You’re not even an elf. Why are you being so damned elfy? I mean, I’ve dated some right tits, but you’re the Herald of Andraste! You keep saying this, you’ll sound like an idiot.

Dialogue options:

General: Will this affect us? [21] General: So, are you mad or what? [22] General: I don’t like your tone. [23]

21 - General: Will this affect us? PC: You’re upset. Will this come between us? Sera: Pfft! If I gave up on everybody who believed stupid stuff.

22 - General: So, are you mad or what? PC: Is this a fight? Because you’re calling me a lot of names. Sera: It’s not a fight. You can believe whatever stupid stuff you want.

23 - General: I don’t like your tone. PC: I don’t appreciate that. What if this is important to me? Sera: You can think whatever you want.

24 - Scene continues.

Sera: I mean, I can like you as an idiot, but maybe the Inquisition expects more? Maybe keep quiet? Sera: I mean, Qunari probably have weird horn gods, but you’ll keep quiet while leading the Inquisition, right? Sera: I mean, dwarves kiss rocks or something, but you’ll keep quiet while leading the Inquisition, right?

Dialogue options:

Flirt: Let’s both shut up. You first. (Continue the relationship) [25] +Sera greatly approves

Too far, Sera. We’re done. (End the relationship.) [26] -Sera greatly disapproves

25 - Flirt: Let’s both shut up. You first. PC: Right, you want me to be quiet, set an example. Shut it. Sera: Pfft. Charmer. Come on, let’s get ready for Lumpy. And by “Lumpy” I mean Coryphishit, not your bits, because that would be gross. Lumpy bits. So yeah… I’m done. Food? Scene ends.

26 - Too far, Sera. We’re done. PC: That’s what you think of me? Sera: What? You don’t know everything. PC: I expect support. I expect better. I think we’re done. Sera: We’re… ? But I didn’t… ? Right, fine. You know what, you know so much? Go know it yourself. I don’t need this. And I don’t need you either. Fuck. Scene ends.

20 - Dalish PC Dialogue options:

Dalish: You’re insulting our heritage PC: That’s the legacy of our people you’re insulting! -Sera disapproves ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

General: But what if even some is true? PC: There’s so much history there. What if some of it is true? -Sera slightly disapproves ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

General: I believe it was all true. PC: The evidence is hard to ignore. I believe it. -Sera slightly disapproves ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

General: I agree it was all lies. [31] +Sera greatly approves

Sera: Frig. You’re going elfy.

PC: What?

Sera: It’s when fairy stories make your ears droop for “lost glory,” but “glory” squats in the woods and smells like halla arse.

Sera: I knew it was coming, knew I shouldn’t start to like you. I said it, right? This doesn’t fit. It can’t fit. I’m not elfy. So say you’re kidding, and we can go back to our weird-enough normal? Please, [Honey Tongue/Buckles/Tadwinks/Shiny/’Teetness/Inky]?

27 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: Why is this too much for you? [28]

Flirt: For you, anything. (Agree with Sera. Relationship continues.) [29] +Sera greatly approves (after investigate) +Sera approves (did not investigate)

I’m an elf. I can’t look away. (Disagree with Sera. Relationship ends.) [30] -Sera greatly disapproves

28 - Investigate: Why is this too much for you? PC: You’ll really end our relationship over what I think of some ruins? Sera: Maybe I don’t believe much or understand it, but some people think too much and can bend anything to fit anything. Some things just don’t fit. Yes, you can explain it, and no, I won’t get it. But I don’t care. Some things don’t fit. So take it back. Just say you’d rather look ahead. That’s all. [back to 27]

29 - Flirt: For you, anything. PC: You’re right. A temple full of nonsense. You and I, we don’t need it. Sera: Frigging right, we don’t. Confusing bunch of… You know what we need? How about we go someplace alive and live? Can’t find that in a hole in the ground. Scene ends.

30 - I’m an elf. I can’t look away. PC: I’m sorry, Sera, but I believe this is important for our fellow elves. Sera: And say the other bit. PC: What? Sera: “You’d get it if you were smarter. If you understood what it ‘meant to be elven.’” Take your elves. I’m just people. Tell me when we’re kicking Coryphy’s arse. The rest, we don’t do anymore. Fuck. Scene ends.

31 - General: I agree it was all lies. PC: I’m with you, everything in that temple was highly suspect. Sera: Oh, good. I was worried you were going elfy on me. Come on, let’s get ready for Lumpy. And by “Lumpy,” I mean Coryphishit, not your bits, because that would be gross. Lumpy bits. So, yeah… I’m done. Food? Scene ends.

[snappydragonsclaw]

"spyro the purple dragon.sounds familiar right? our favorite butt-kicking dragon is back. this loveable dragon was found as an egg by the one and only master eon. the portal master raised spyro for greatness and believed him to be a gift from the ancients themselves due to his breed. legends say that purple dragons have the ability to harness all the elements. but not without it's problems. from the constant praise from master eon and skylanders alike spyro grew prideful and even borderline arrogant. spyro likes to show off and has a concerning disregard for fire safety and he somewhat has a bad influence on incoming cadets such as trigger happy and food fight who both adopted carefree habits but more on them later. spyro's best friends stealth elf,eruptor and gill grunt sigh as he shows off. spyro however will one day need to learn how to be a hero and not a show off and that day might be arriving quicker than he realizes."

"no spyro did not spend to much time in hot topic that is dark spyro. spyro's evil twin that was once a split personality. so just think of everything that is bad about spyro but multiply that time five and then you got dark spyro. trust me if thought spyro was no good for the cadets than you haven't seen dark spyro. he would lead a rebellion if he could. dark spyro is snarky and manipulative he doesn't care who he hurts just as long as he gets what he wants."

alright so spyro and dark spyro. alright so i added gill grunt. it legit made no sense that he wasn't in the show and no he did not do what he did for flashwing. this version of him has more morals than THAT.

[longer-than-i-should-admit]

I LITERALLY HAD THIS THOUGHT THE OTHER DAY

I was thinking more along the lines of another ancient elf happening to wake up around the time of Inquisition starting, not necessarily the Inquisitor, but it's such an interesting concept bc what if they were loyal to the Evanuris? What if they knew Solas before? What if they only knew of the Dread Wolf as a figurehead and didn't know him personally? What if they had worked with him or battled against him?

I had wondered about them being a slave he freed, so maybe he wore that wolf outfit like in that one fresco and they didn't see his face, but maybe they recognize his voice when he speaks but it's only deja vu/oddly familiar since maybe their mind is still foggy after a several millennia long nap lol

But the thought of them never admitting it to each other since they don't want anyone else to know but they suspect each other super heavily so they're constantly playing this verbal game of "let's see who slips up first" (probably usually Solas since his ego butts in so often lol let's be real) while the others are just like "???"

I'm just saying how funny would it have been if the Inquisitor had also been an ancient elf.

Like Solas peacocking around and being mysterious and the Inquisitor the entire time giving him the side eye like "this guy is so full of shit"

They're both dancing around each other like Sherlock and Moriarty trying to get the upper hand. Playing 5D chess.

Meanwhile everyone else is just trying to survive the Hinterlands

[caranelguild]

While still in Traskyelin, our group of adventurers takes on a new aspect. When a monk of her order approaches her with a tale of woe, Sekos accompanies them to help out however she can. Hardric, meanwhile, relieved to be back on the solid earth, finds himself moved by the plight of the refugees in the city; he chooses to remain. At a local pub processing these departures, the remaining members of the Samar Five are overheard by a silver-haired wood elf looking for an adventuresome purpose. He introduces himself as Quagoon and when made aware of the quest is eager to assist.

The next morning, the Celer Gontalus takes off from the city harbour with a hero’s goodbye. Her altered crew flies south, electing to head straight for Walbutte, and after two uneventful days approach its red desert. A threatening electrical storm and cruel turbulence closer to the ground force our adventurers to land their craft, nestling its keel in what looks like a deep, dry creekbed.

On first watch, Quagoon is granted a beautiful display of a desert aurora, filling the sky after the passing of the thunderstorm. Vola notices some movement in the creekbed below the Gontalus during her watch, and Krieg notices a haze building up to the south, obscuring the buttes, during his.

On Damaia’s watch, this haze resolves into a proper sandstorm, but she battens down the hatches and watches it pass safely.

In the morning, our party discovers that the creekbed in which their ship is sat is actually the path of some sort of sand worm: their termite-like tracks are visible in the hard bottom, which had been invisible in the darkness of the storm last evening.

The crew gets the Gontalus into the air and they quickly approach the buttes, where they search for signs of the ancient Walbutrin civilization. Finding the sandblasted ruins of a village atop an immense butte, Quagoon is let down to secure a length of rope from above while the others land the ship safely at the monument’s base and begin climbing - choosing to ignore a small cave at its base in favour of reuniting with their companion.

The 150 foot climb passes without event and the party begins searching the foundations of the ancient village for passage into the butte. Using his magic weapon, Quagoon is able to “gust” sand away from the floors of these exposed ruins, and in this way eventually discovers what is clearly a main gate: a large trapdoor that had once been ornately carved. Krieg reaches out with his trained senses and can tell that this is desecrated ground - which aligns with the history they know of it.

He studies its frame, looking for traps, and finds that its ring-handle can be turned in two ways. If turned to the left, it will trigger a mechanism that Quagoon notices. Not confident in their choice, Vola rests a shield against her knees as she bends over to turn the handle to the right and lift - sure enough, a long blade pops out of the door as it rises and scrapes against her protection. She lets the door back down and the blade returns to its slot, then turns the handle to the left and heaves open the door while a sheet metal stairway clatters into place, leading down to a large entrance hall.

This hall has two doors on either flank and a large double door with beautiful metalwork covering its seams at its end. A top corner of one of the doors on the right of the hall has been broken in, and Vola thrusts her torch within, revealing a passage half-collapsed.

Quagoon meanwhile tries the main doors and finds that they open easily outwards - until the crunch against dust or rubble and come to a stop, leaving only a gap of about a foot. The air from above the butte whistles into the entrance hall and is sucked through this opening, and for a moment Quagoon feels as if the wind is physically grabbing the front of him and drawing him forward. He finds himself suddenly thrown into an old memory, of fleeing from his woodland home as a refugee. Then he regains control of himself and steps away from the doorway, telling the others to avoid it.

The wind moans through the door’s opening.

The party goes to the unbroken door on the right side of the hall and Vola kicks it in just as Quagoon and Damaia notice the symbols on its ring, probably a sort of combination lock.

A passage lined with petrified wood beams and urns full of ancient soil opens before them, and the wind precedes them in. They head down the corridor and come upon a sort of balcony stretching left and right. Their torch does not illumine the enormous hollow space beyond the remains of the balcony’s railing, so they conjure more light and see that there is a massive columnar structure in the center of the butte - likely where that central door would lead. Along the “walls” of the hollowed mountain are further structures, dotted with the apertures of doors and windows.

To their right, they spot evidence of a bridge, and their lights illuminate on other levels narrow walkways traversing the hollow space in various stages of wholeness: some fully planked with petrified wood, others sparsely, others only the supporting rails of metal - many of these bridges spanning the gap from the wall to the central structure. The balcony on which they walk meets the butte wall, so they travel that direction, but soon come upon a place where the floor has worn away, leaving a gap of around ten feet.

They make precautions, but ultimately jump the gap without trouble, and when they come upon the wall elect to travel to their left along the gently down-sloping path instead of through a gaping tunnel to their right.

Behind them, Quagoon thinks he hears the sound of a scuffed footstep - unique among the sounds of whistling and moaning wind otherwise heard.

Soon, they come upon their first “building” inset into the wall of the butte - nothing more than a facade from the road, a door and a window of grainy glass - seemingly melted from the sandstone itself. Vola shatters this with her hammer and a blast of necrotic air catches her full in the face, howling out of the opening. For the briefest moment, our party can see dozens upon dozens of bodies hanging from ordered hooks upon the room’s ceiling before they dissolve into flakes of dust that lazily coil about the floor and curl out of the window, leaving only the vicious hooks behind.

Damaia is curious, and is the first to enter. She finds the air within thick with immemorial death, and she draws up a fabric mask. Vola follows.

The chamber is a simple room. A desk sits facing the door, behind which rest a collection of tall urns. Damaia searches these and finds a collection of unrecognizable tools. Quagoon takes one that vaguely resembles a saw.

They leave the room behind and, at a fork, elect to take the path continuing to wind downwards. They pass another building facade and Vola can’t resist breaking its window. For a moment, she thinks she sees a monster within - a long-necked, lumpy being with no discernible head - but quickly realizes that it is a piece of sculpture, made of the same rough organic glass as the windows.

The party moves on and ignores the next few facades until they arrive at a bridge that seems intact, oriented to take them to the hollow butte’s central structure. They set off upon this narrow walkway, avoiding the occasional gap in its boards, until they come to a gap they cannot ignore - a thirty-foot gap that is only spanned by the inch-thick parallel supports.

There’s no turning back for our adventurers, so they begin to delicately cross this perilous stretch. The metal is cold and smooth, and a wind begins to stir - a wind that suddenly sends Damaia tumbling into the void!

But the group had roped together, and Vola braces, catching the falling tiefling before she’s dropped more than twenty feet. Despite Krieg’s suggestion that Vola swing Damaia like a pendulum to launch her at the bridge planks at the far side of the gap, Vola chooses to pull the wizard up hand over hand. But this pursuit is soon interrupted by the wind, which grows to a dangerous strength and threatens to topple Vola.

When Quagoon, safely on the planks with Krieg, sends a psychic blade into the wind around the two still in the middle of the gap, he feels resistance - suggesting the wind to be an actual malignant force.

Vola leaves Damaia dangling below her and creeps careful along the rails until she, too, is upon the intact part of the bridge, where she finishes pulling Damaia up.

[babybluesquid]

Consequences of Karrnath Session 2

Every Boy Needs a Bone Guardian!

Our Players this week:

Dagne, Vengeance Paladin, an undead soldier with the curious property of acting like a living person. Trusts nobody and acts as the leader.

Vaeren, Swarmkeeper Ranger, a Deathguard sent to investigate Dagne’s nature. They’re the quiet one who helps keep everyone in line.

Syv, Glamour Bard, a traveling performer turned traveling adventurer. Personas are Eshi, a sea elf, and Star, a shifter.

The party continues to follow the monster’s trail deeper into the Ice Wood. Interestingly, the tracks begin to double back on themselves, becoming a bit of a mess. Vaeren comments on this to the others, and Dagne suggests that the creature is intelligent enough to know it’s being followed and obscure its trail. Fortunately, Vaeren is able to easily navigate through the mess. The party soon enters a much colder area. The snow is old and the trees are ancient. Large chunks of ice stick up out of the ground. They guess it’s a Risian manifest zone.

In the distance, barely perceptible, Vaeren hears something, footsteps. Either multiple people or… it’s coming closer. The party hurries up a hill to have some defensible ground in case it’s what they suspect. It is. Suddenly, the monster, four skeleton wolves, and four skeletons come into view from behind trees and ice spikes. As described, the monster is made of many skeletons, fused together. Some human, some animal, a fastieth skull at the front center of the thing. It says something in an unknown, strange tongue and scuttles forward on various hands and legs. Soon, the hill is surrounded by monster and skeletal minions.

Seeking to control the situation, Vaeren suggests they loose a hail of thorns, but it would hit Dagne. They tell them not to worry about it, after the rest, they’ll be able to take it. The attack destroys five of the skeletal minions with radiant damage. Syv slings an insult at the monster to no effect, “what kind of cowardly monster needs minions to back it up” while Dagne kills two of said minions. Syv illuminates the monster and two more minions with purple faerie fire. The monster strikes Syv, nearly knocking them out in one blow, then scuttles up to Dagne, deftly avoiding any opportunity for attack. Dagne cracks it with a powerful smite using the hammer end of their poleaxe, crushing the fastieth skull completely. The bits of bone remain animated, hanging in the air in the rough shape of the skull. On the backswing, Dagne destroys another skeletal minion with the butt of their weapon. In retaliation, the monster slashes all its horrible limbs at Dagne. They go down.

Vaeren places a hunter’s mark and shoots at the monster while Syv hurriedly heals Dagne. Gravely injured, the monster scuttles and then runs, seeking to escape. As it goes, Syv insults it “imagine running ya pussy bitch,” and the vicious mockery finally hurts it. As it flees, Vaeren continuously looses arrows, the ghosts from their spirit idols assisting by dragging it backwards. Finally, they land a critical hit on the center of the monster’s magic, and it crumbles to a pile of bones and dust. A black energy coalesces around it, then suddenly shoots off into the woods. Amidst the rubble, Dagne finds a human skull with the symbol of Mabar imprinted magically into the forehead. They put it in their bag as proof that the monster is dead.

In order to ensure that, though, they follow the path the black energy took when it went off. They soon find a clearing in the woods where a great number of trees and small animals have died. The place looks drained, like powerful Mabaran necromancy took place there. In the center of the miniature devastation stands a short stout figure, facing away from the party. Dagne hails them. They turn around, and the whole party notices angry black lines covering one hand and side of his face. He’s an adolescent dwarf who looks tired, hungry, and terrified. A recently dead squirrel hangs onto his arm, staring at the party with glassy eyes.

Dagne takes the difficult job of talking to the boy. They manage to convince him the party isn’t after him, showing the skull of the monster as proof. The boy, introducing himself as Hynek Mazal, says it was created when a bear attacked him, animating from various bones in a nearby graveyard in order to protect him. Same with the skeletons they’ve been encountering. The monster, the bone guardian, has been bringing him food and speaking to him in a language he doesn’t understand. He isn’t particularly bothered that the party killed the bone guardian, just tired and sad about the whole ordeal. Dagne asks if he knew that his creations have killed people. He didn’t, but he’s clearly disturbed by it. He reveals that when his mark manifested, he accidentally killed someone and was driven from his home in Coldport. His mark is not under control. Dagne tells him that there’s a suspicious agent of some crown after him, and offers to take him back to Burnfrost and find somewhere for him to go.

In order to disguise him, Dagne takes off their helmet and cowl, handing the deep hood over to him. Syv offers him some cloth to wrap around his hand. Hynek, seeing Dagne’s skull and identification plate, wonders aloud, “how is one of them showing compassion?” “I’m built different,” Dagne responds with a shrug.

On the way back to Burnfrost, the party encounters yet another person in the woods. A dwarf lady who introduces herself as Rita of Atur, agent of the Ministry of Dead. She has a job offer for Hynek. Dagne is instantly suspicious, questioning her motive and legitimacy. She produces papers notarized by House Sivis, proving her identity and mission. Still, Dagne isn’t satisfied, insisting on returning to Burnfrost with Hynek to confirm with Viscount Costas ir’Vaneris. When the party arrives, it’s late at night and the Viscount is already in bed, and so they rest. In the morning, Hynek and Rita have vanished, Dagne’s cowl left outside the door of their guest room. Discouraged, they go to breakfast, putting the skull from the monster down on the table with a loud thud. The Viscount hands Dagne a House Kundarak check for 650 galifars as the rest of the party eats eggs, toast, pan fried ham, and potato cubes. They eat nothing and don’t take their helmet off.

The Bone Beast of Burnfrost adventure is done. The party takes 2 XP.

With mixed feelings over the conclusion of their job, the party heads over to the Gold Dragon Inn. Dagne orders a bottle of Emberwheat Ale to split with the group. They sit in a private booth in the back, Dagne’s sitting with their back facing the rest of the inn, cowl pulled low to hide their skeletal features. Vaeren and Eshi each drink one cup, Dagne has six, though alcohol is only half as effective for them. It’s spicy, much like the Emberwheat bread. Presently, someone comes into the inn and begins talking to the proprietor, Darik. He shows him a sheet of paper and asks if Darik has seen the woman pictured, saying that even though House Ghallanda legally provides refuge, inter-house agreements require Darik to tell him. Dagne’s interest peaks when the stranger says that the fugitive is a Red Watcher, wanted for assassination. They put their helmet on and walk over to talk to the bounty hunter.

His name is Minroy d’Tharashk and he’s after a human woman named Inesa Yanova. She’d been a student at Rekkanmark who had gotten in with perfect scores on her entrance exams, but then she killed the professor of necromancy and fled. Minroy is currently hottest on her heels, and she’s probably in Burnfrost now or just left. Perhaps due to the alcohol, perhaps for personal reasons, Dagne offers to help without taking share of the bounty. They return to the group and they agree to help as well, since Dagne is the de facto leader.

They search around town, chatting with each other as they go. Vaeren brings out a ghost, an old wizard who has been around for 1533 years, died at 502. Dagne asks if he remembers everything, and he questions why they don’t retain their memories. They then ask if he knows that they are, since he was there when they were transformed from an Odakyr Rites undead to something else. The wizard claims not to know.

In searching, they finally turn up a lead. General Store, the warforged owner of the General Store, reveals he saw a woman matching Inesa’s description with Donata, the town witch. The party hurries to Donata’s house, but it’s empty. They ask around and hear that Donata is in the woods. Soon, Vaeren finds the trail, two sets of footprints, presumed to be Inesa and Donata, and they make quick pursuit. Instead, they find Minroy alone pursuing one set of footprints in the woods, having already pieced together what the party spent hours learning.

With nothing else to do but talk, the party makes conversation with Minroy. He speaks of the wide world, from his home in the Marches, to Droaam, to Cyre before The Mourning, to Sharn, the greatest city in the world. “Greater than Korth?” Dagne asks him. “Sharn is three Korths stacked on top of each other,” he replies. Eshi relates, recalling how they got hopelessly lost the one time they visited. Minroy tells the party of how he went to the upper wards for a job. Conversation drifts to Thrane, Aundair, and warforged. “There weren’t any warforged in my company,” Dagne remarks, “I barely know anything about them.” “Those of us who know them know that they’re people, just like you and me. I have a warforged friend named Seven in Korth. He’s a good fellow. You should try to meet him next time you visit.” Minroy tells them.

The party follows the footprints deeper into the woods, once again on a trail, hoping it’ll lead to Inesa instead of being a false lead.

——————

Highlights:

Dagne is built different.

Vaeren talks to the spirit idols and consults their wisdom.

Syv fights in their true form.

Hynek is probably gonna come back to bite us. :(

Minroy is the best. <3

Session 3.

[riacte]

#op your tags are fucking fire i love the idea of the hermits in a dunmeshi au. taking notes#do you have thougjts on their races/classes

HAIIIII i was gonna tell you i'm lai-mar but apparently you found out already so YIPPEEE LAIMARRRRRR

ren - i mean it would make sense for him to be a kobold / beastkin. it's also funny if he's fussy bc he's royalty but he also eats the weirdest shit. this man cannot fight to save his life. magic user who keeps on getting possessed but somehow coming out of it fine. probably knows ancient magic which comes as a contrast to his silly teehee :3 demeanor. obsessed with eating weird things.

false - definitely a fighter / archer. maybe a tallmen / half foot hybrid bc she has good reflexes and senses (idk what this does to her lifespan). can't do magic to save her life sorry.

martyn - elf who just graduated or whatever and is a little snobby and annoying. insists on "no romance on the job" but he's the one who sees ren as his succubus so who's being the clown now (ren's succubus is not martyn. sad). he never learned magic formally and is like "fuck it we ball" every single time and bullshits some spell (it works) and cleo is horrified.

cleo - gnome who always argues with martyn about magic and everything basically. master at resurrection / healing. lives in the dungeon like senshi, choosing to join parties every now and then.

stress - dwarf! :3 the brawn and the tank. acts cheerful while she's slaughtering everyone. "HI MY LUVS! <3" she declares as she emerges completely soaked with blood holding a monster's head

iskall - dwarf who's childhood besties with stress. they always party together. like always. another warrior and tank type. butts heads with false for the title of best warrior. "someone will die" "OF FUN" that's iskall and stress.

anyways. i will be taking this into a very predictable route. ren becomes king or whatever and pardons his fav war criminal falsie. you just know his succubus is false smiling or something. false going "ren why did you go through the trouble of reviving me with ancient magic when you knew i'd wanted to scam you for money" and he's like "🥺 because you're still my friend" and she's like 🥺🥺🥺 you literally have no sense of self preservation 🥺🥺🥺

so hey guys i finished dungeon meshi yesterday and i'm still thinking about it

[writing-fanics]

𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖞 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖑𝖑 [ 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖕𝖍𝖊𝖚𝖘 𝖝 𝖋!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 ]

[ Chapter Six: Slannen of Pim ]

pretty long chapter here

previous chapter > next chapter

[Y/n] looked down at the magic mirror map in her hands, "Still can't believe I'm listening to the directions of a cat." She says and starts talking to herself as she walked through the forest of pim.

"I wonder what this King of Dreams looks like?" She wonders then looks up seeing a raven flying above her. "Never seen a raven in these parts." She says, looking up as the bird flies above her.

Then she hears rustling causing her to jump, "What was that?" She says looking toward the source of the sound. "Somebody help me!" a voice shouted followed by the voice of someone else laughing. (man laughs)

"Wait a minute." [y/n] says finding the source of the screams, "Sing soprano, little man!" a man shouts [y/n] and runs faster towards the cries for help.

a man holding a slingshot with a knife throws it at the elf on the spinning device, "Missed!" he says in announcement. [Y/n] walks up to them in shock, "What do you think you're doing to that poor elf?" she looks at them and they turned to look at her, "Oh. Who's this who thinks she's so tough?" the man says looking at her.

"Look, l think it's only fair to warn you that l'm practiced in the ancient art... of origami." She says, and the other guy looks at her, "Paper folding?" He says confused.

"l was hoping you wouldn't know what that was." [y/n] mumbles under her breath, "Don't let him scare you, sweetheart! Kick his butt!" the elf shouted, causing her to kick the man in the butt.

"Don't let her do that." the other one shouted.

"Now rabbit punch." the elf shouted, causing her to punch the man in the face. "Combo. Kneel. Front-step kick. Dragon-roundhouse kick." the elf shouts causing her to fight the bandits.

"This chick is nuts!" they shout. "Let's get outta here." they run off/ [y/n] runs over to the elf on the wheel, "l think l'm gonna puke." the elf groans, "Let me help you with that." She says, using the knife to cut him down.

"l am gonna need so much therapy after this." He says, looking at her as she cuts him down. He falls face forward on his face, "Are you OK?" She asks looking down at him, "No, l am not OK!" He asks sitting up, "l think l broke something, or dislocated it, or..." he says as he places his hand on his nose followed by a loud crunch.

"No, just a crick. Slannen of Pim." He says standing up and holding out his hand, "Y/n of Frell. Nice to meet you." She says looking at him, "Well, if you're OK, then l have to be going, but good luck." She says walking off and he follows after her, "You're going? You can't walk in this wood on your own. How about a bite to eat?" He asks looking at her, "That's very sweet, but l'm on a tight schedule." She says to him smiling.

"Fine. Message received, Miss ''l Think l'm All That'' He says to her and she sighs, "That's not what l meant at all." [Y/n] says, looking at him, and the two start bickering.

"l extend the hand of friendship..." He says. the two started to talk over each other, "I am on a tight schedule." She says to him, "Were l not..." He says, "Everybody's busy..." He shouts.

"l would love to have dinner with you." She says finally, "Great! l've got a coupon." He says, and they make their way toward the elves.

They hide behind some foliage to avoid the sight of the eleves, "Slannen." She whispers looking at him, "lf this is where you live, why are we sneaking around?" She asks.

"lf they spot you, you'll be sorry. You know how all elves are forced to sing and dance?" He says to her, "Yeah. So?" She asks, then an elf notices them from the rafters, "Visitors!" The elf shouts.

'Places, everyone.'

'One, two, three, four!'

"Run for it!" Slannen shouts, and [y/n] follows suit as the elves begin singing.

'Let us entertain you, let us make you smile'

'Let us give you a few tricks, some old and then some new tricks'

The two start running around trying to get to the restaurant.

'We're very versatile'

'And if you're real good we'll make you feel good'

'We want your spirits high'

"Where are we going?" She asks, as they run around. "l said get lost!" He shouted, at the other elves. As the ran towards the restaurant.

'We'll have a real good time'

"Leave us alone!" He shouted. Slannes and [Y/n] sat down at a table, "Peace and quiet at last." He says and [y/n] smiles. Until elves walk over towards the table and start singing.

'Jeremiah was a bullfrog'

'He was a good friend of mine'

"Hit the road." Slanned shouted at them and they took that as an introduction to start singing again,

'Hit the road, Jack, and don't you...'

"Get outta here!" Slannen shouted at them. "Yes. Why don't you like music?" She asks looking at Slannen, "That's right. Because elves are supposed to be so happy and joyful all the time." He says looking at her, "Singing and dancing for the man." He says looking at her.

"l don't wanna be an entertainer." He says to her, "l wanna be a..." He stops deciding not wanting to say anything, "What?" She asks curiously, "Nothing." He says looking away. "What were you gonna say?" She asks once again.

" lt's silly." He says.

"Please tell me." She asks looking at him and Slannen sighs, "l wanna be a lawyer." He says and she looks at him. "Why can't you be a lawyer?" She asks looking at him, "Hello?" He says pointing at his ears, "Elf." He says.

"l forgot. The elfin restrictions Sir Edgar passed." She says.

"No elf shall be engaged in any occupation other than singing, juggling, and or tomfoolery."

"They're never gonna let me go to law school." He says sadly and she looks at him, "l'm never gonna get my day in court, never gonna stand in front of the judge and say" He says to her,

''You're out of order! Permission to approach the bench?'' He says. ''l object!'' No, l object." He shouts enthusiastically. "The thought of it is making me go crazy."

'Crazy'

'l'm crazy for feeling so lonely'

Hattie and Olive were going through [Y/n]'s things. Mandy walks into the room holding a letter, "What are you doing with Y/n's things?" Mandy asks looking at them, "Just a little tidying up." Dame Olga says then notices the letter.

"What's that?" Dame Olga asks, holding out her hand. "What? Nothing. lt's personal." Mandy says hiding it behind her back. Dame Olga then reaches behind her back and takes it.

"A letter for Y/n?" Dame Olga says, looking at it curiously. "The prince's coronation ball. He's invited that insolent little snip?" She says in disgust. She then turns towards her daughters, "Girls, go and dust off your ball gowns and pack your bags." She says, looking at them.

"l think l may have found you another chance at your future husband." She says showing them the invitation letter, Hattie looks at it in awe. Mandy knowingly covers her ears and walks out of the room. As Hattie starts hyperventilating, "Yes!" Hattie screams in excitement then faints.

"So this can really show me anything anywhere in the kingdom?" Slannen asks looking down at the magic mirror map, "Somewhat, it only seems to be showing me though where I need to go." She says, looking at him.

Slannen then looks up and notices that soldiers were, "Come on." He says, "What?" She exclaims as they hide behind a barrel. She notices the soldiers gather up the elves, "What's going on?" She asks.

"Edgar's soldiers rounding up elfin singers to perform at the coronation." He says and [y/n] watches sadly, "Get in. And you." The soldiers say to the elves.

"Slannen, you've gotta go to Lamia and petition the prince." She says looking at him, "For what?" He asks, looking at her, "To go to law school. You gotta stop this." She says, as the carriage is pulled away.

'The sun will shine'

"You want me to go to Lamia on my own?" He asks looking at her, "Well, where I'm going it seems to be on the way." She says looking at him. "The prince will never grant an audience with an elf. They think we're a joke." He says to her.

"l have met Prince Charmont, and l think he might be different than his uncle." She says, to him and he looks at her raising an eyebrow, "Why? Cos he's a hunk?" He says and [y/n] scoffs, "No." She says seriously.

"What is he, about six foot?" He asks, "About." She says agreeingly, "Yeah, l hate the guy already. l'm not wasting my time." He says as he leaves the hiding spot.

Taking a moment, "Count me in." He says, looking at her and handing her the magic mirror map. A smile grew across her lips.

taglist open

@sugar-cube-person @intothesoul

[rosella-writes]

For the DADWC: Mage vs. mage sparring!

OH YOU GAVE ME A BRILLIANT IDEA MY DEAR

the spark: Morrigan polishes her craft while at Skyhold. Solas spies something familiar in her style.

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

Since her earliest days with Kieran as an infant, Morrigan has risen with the sun.

Tarasyl'an Te'las hummed with old magic beneath her feet, more wakeful now than at any other time of day. She moved through its gardens, tracing her hands over its dewy leaves and through the branches of its bushes, welcoming the touch of it on her bare arms. Almost without thinking, she unslung her handmade staff from her back — it too seemed to vibrate with whatever pulsed through the air and ground in this place.

The gardens were empty — while safe in this half-conscious state between wakefulness and dreams, Morrigan decided with a brisk nod. She sank into the first of many forms, knees bent, staff outstretched. Her body complained — knees clicking, hips twisting — but she pushed through it, her mother's words ringing through her skull.

To train the body along with the mind is to know victory, she had said. And it had been too long since she had followed the rote steps she had been taught.

Her muscles remembered, even if her mind did not. She floated through each step, only half-remembering, and allowed the creature that was her body to guide her through every swiping blow, every practiced step of her feet, every motion of her hands. Her grip remained loose on her staff — do not clutch it so, girl, or it will be wrenched from you — and she held it loosely between her thumb and two middle fingers on each hand. It spun, familiar and free, between her hands.

Until it met another with a crack.

Morrigan jumped, stunned from her fugue state, and narrowed her eyes in irritation at the man that had interrupted her.

"I presume you have a reason for disturbing me, elf," she spat.

The Inquisition's Fade expert's jaw tightened, the sharp planes of his face seeming sharper in the early morning light. He swirled his own staff — a plain one, with not a single decoration or gem — around the end of hers and stepped away. He planted the butt of his weapon in the grass.

"Your form," he said curtly. "It is an old one. I have not seen it practiced in the waking world."

Morrigan snorted. "There is much you do not know, for all your time spent dreaming. While you rested your head, I traveled the wilds and learned my own way."

The man — Solas, she remembered — cocked his head and regarded her as if she were a specimen in a jar. "And yet every step you took mirrored an ancient one, plucked as if from the mind of my people. Surely you did not find this routine on your own."

She began to circle him, her staff still held loosely enough in her hand that she could strike forward like a snake should she wish. "I had a mother," she finally said, "and she had a particular method of instruction. I would recommend you find where she found it from her own mouth, but I shall not introduce you."

Solas remained very still, his back very straight. He looked brittle in his seething anger — she briefly wondered if he would shatter if struck. She gestured minutely with her staff as an invitation.

"It has been some time since I sparred with another," she said, lifting her lip in a sneer. "Perhaps you would care to... correct my mistakes that have crept into my form over the years? The last time I raised my weapon against another for mere practice was against a Chantry-trained old bat, after all."

Solas stood stock still, a tendon working in his neck and jaw. Finally, after the span of three breaths, he nodded and relaxed the slope of his shoulders — his staff lifted to meet hers, and he dropped into an exact mirror of the form she assumed.

"Let us see what you know," he said, his voice as low and as cold as a buried tomb.

Morrigan let a slow, eager smile spread across her face — then, with a curt nod, she lunged.

[lillotte17]

Take me back to the night we met

When the night was full of terrors

And your eyes were filled with tears

When you had not touched me yet

Oh, take me back to the night we met

~ Lord Huron

I always wondered a bit what was going through Solas’ head when he first sees the person who ended up with the anchor. He’s got to be in a state of panic. His Big Plan to unlock his orb and kill Corypheus literally just blew up in his face, and now there’s a crazy god-monster on the loose. ...Again. 

The first and best option would be, of course, to take the anchor from this random mortal and use it to achieve his own ends. But, like with Corypheus when Haven burns, he must realize fairly quickly that there is no way to simply take the anchor from them and transfer it to himself. At least not with the power currently at his disposal. 

To me, the most practical choice after this realization would be to kill them. Or ‘let’ the anchor kill them. I can’t imagine that it didn’t cross his mind. They are a completely unknown variable. He does not know for certain that they will be capable of sealing the rifts, and even if they are, he knows nothing about their personality, or their beliefs. This person has stumbled onto one of the strongest magical tools currently active in Thedas, and they could use it to tear the world in half if they felt like it. 

It is a HUGE gamble! Especially when he could just let Corypheus tear the Veil down, and step in when all the magic floods back into the world to kick butt with his ancient elf buddies. It would probably be very messy, but absolutely doable.

But he stops, and looks at the suffering around him. The war and the chaos and the death. The pain on the face of the poor fool who ended up with his magic stuck in their hand. 

And he thinks, “No. Not like this.”

And he saves them.

And while I don’t see him as the ‘love at first sight’ type, I like to think he might have gone a little soft the first time he saw Lavellan in that cell. A lost elf crying in the dark.    

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Mario Kart Double Dash

(Story Post)

Theo and Henderson were both at the former's apartment watching TV when his phone went off. Unfortunately, he'd left it on the kitchen counter and it wasn't easy to move from the couch now that he was 16 weeks pregnant with alien quadruplets. “I got it,” Henderson said getting up to swipe the phone and handed it to Theo. “Merci,” Theo said as he took it and checked the caller ID. He was surprised to see it was Korsy. He answered it. “Hello?” “Theo, you home?” “Yeah.” “Okay, I'm coming up.” “Do you need me to open the balcony door?” “No, I'll take the elevator,” Korsy said. “Just buzz me in?” “Yeah, for sure.”

A few minutes later Korsy was knocking on the door. Henderson let him in. Korsy's usual smirking nature had dissolved into a more frantic and nervous demeanour. He waved to Theo on the couch. “Hey, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?” “No. Would it matter?” Theo sighed. “Are you alright, man?” Henderson asked putting a hand on Korsy's shoulder. “You look pale.” “No, I'm fine…” Korsy said, scratching the back of his head. No one was convinced. “Theo, how have you been?” Theo shrugged. “No more morning sickness. Not in a while, anyway…” “Well, that's good!” Korsy said. He patted Henderson's back. “And I imagine you're taking good care of him?” “Doing my best.” He closed the door behind Korsy. “Are you hungry?” “No, no,” Korsy said. “Have you eaten recently?” Henderson added. “Do you have allergies or dietary restrictions?” “I, uh, no, not really and no,” Korsy said. “But I'm not hungry, it's okay.” “Alright.” Henderson went into the kitchen anyway and started heating up a bowl of stew. “Come sit,” Theo said. “Talk to me.” Korsy went over and sat down, although he still didn't seem particularly relaxed. “You need to tell me what's up,” Theo said. “You are clearly upset about something.” “Yeah, well, I, uh…” Korsy took a deep breath. “Um, I have a friend I've been, you know, getting benefits from and we're not serious or anything, but uh…” Henderson came back and placed the bowl of stew in Korsy's hands before going and sitting down himself. “Eat.” “Oh, uh. Thanks.” “Don't mention it.” Korsy took a moment to try some of the broth. “This is very good.” “My mother sent it over,” Henderson said. “Tell her she's an incredible chef,” Korsy said. “I will. Now, please continue. What's this about a friend with benefits?” “Right…” Korsy scratched the back of his neck. “We didn't know it was possible, but I might've…gotten him pregnant.” Theo's eyes widened. “Oh my god, really?” “How would you believe it wasn't possible?” Henderson asked. “Is he trans?” “No, he's cis. That's why we didn't think it could happen,” Korsy said. “How did it happen, then?” Theo asked. “Or ‘maybe’ happen.” “It's kinda weird and complicated,” Korsy explained. “But he accidentally ate something he shouldn't have and it gave him a womb and now he doesn't want to talk to me and I don't know what to do.” “Um, what in the world did he eat?” Henderson asked. “Alien made stuff,” Korsy said. “You don't have to worry about it. APID has it now. Probably will study it then destroy it.” “Okay, as long as it's not like some weird new mango or something,” Theo said. “Although, do they have to destroy it?” Henderson said. “I bet some transwomen would love that. Even some cis gay couples trying to have kids.” “Well, they are studying it,” Korsy said. “Too untested and unregulated as it is right now.” “Yeah, that's fair,” Henderson said. “Well, you don't know yet for sure if he's pregnant, right?” Theo said. “It could just be a close call.” “That's what we're hoping,” Korsy said. “But, I just… I don't want this to ruin what we have going on. At first it was just sex, but I feel like we're becoming good friends, like you and me.” “I've met you like three times,” Theo said. “That's a lot for me, to be honest,” Korsy said. “I'm away so much, if I want to make friends, it has to be quick.” “Also fair,” Henderson said. “Well, if you're going to be my friend, you have to understand that you don't leave my house hungry.” “This isn't your house,” Theo argued. “Wherever I am is home,” Henderson stated. “You certainly act like it…” Theo said. “Oh hush, you love that I feed you,” Henderson said, patting Theo’s belly. “Your mom feeds me,” Theo argued as well. “That's only sometimes. I cook for you.” Henderson turned back to their guest. “Korsy, don't you wrap it up?” “I do when there's, you know, a vagina involved. Or if they're not tellurian,” Korsy said. “Otherwise, it's whatever they want. Elves don't get STIs.” Henderson looked to Theo again. “Can you confirm?” “Confirm what?” Theo huffed. “I don't know if elves get STIs!” “No, you two almost boned,” Henderson said. “Did he wrap it up for you?” Theo blushed. “Oh. Uh, yes he did. Can we not talk about that? That was so embarrassing…” “What? It's nothing to be embarrassed about,” Henderson said. “You seduced an elf.” “Hardly, he seduced me,” Theo said. “I am certainly attracted to you,” Korsy admitted. Theo pulled a blanket over his head. “Seriously, this is too much…” “Elves certainly seem to like you as much as you like them,” Korsy said. “Considering how many you keep in company.” Henderson frowned, eyeing Korsy. “You're not still on about me being an elf?” “You're still denying it?” Korsy inquired. “I'm not an elf!” Henderson exclaimed. “The thing is, you are though,” Korsy stated. Henderson threw up his hands. “Fine, prove it then.” “Okay.” Korsy put the bowl of stew on the table, a smug grin crossing his face. “Have you ever been sick?” Henderson shrugged. “No.” “Are your ears very sensitive to touch?” Korsy asked. “Aren’t they all?” “Do you have a hard time growing body hair?” Henderson smirked. “No.” Korsy waved a hand. “That's neither here nor there… You're part human anyway.” “I'm all human,” Henderson stated. “Do you resonate with any one or more elements of nature?” Korsy continued. “For example, animals, water, ores, gemstones, fire, wind, the moon, the sun, the stars, etc.” “Define resonate,” Theo piped in. “Is it like a glow or something?” “No, it's like… Well, for me, I have a good bond with magical animals,” Korsy said. “Anyway, it's hard to explain. It's a really strong pull towards those kinds of things. And them to you.” “I can't think of anything like that,” Henderson said. “What about people?” Theo asked. “Henderson's really good at attracting a crowd. People always want to hear his stories and hang out with him at work and stuff.” “That's called being an extrovert,” Henderson stated rolling his eyes. “I mean some magical creatures have a way with people, but mostly demons and sirens,” Korsy said. “Demons are real?!” Theo gasped. “Oh, yeah. But don't worry about them. You're not surprised about the sirens, though?” “He met a mermaid already,” Henderson said. “At that pregnancy group.” “No, he's my case worker,” Theo said. “Oh, right! Fay!” Korsy recalled. “Yeah, Fay's cool.” “We are way off topic,” Theo re-centred. “Right.” Korsy stood up and held his hands out, palms up. “All these questions don't really matter as much as the physical. Stand up, Mr Neil. Lift your arms.” “This is stupid,” Henderson said but Theo nudged him and he got up reluctantly. “Hurry up.” “I said lift your arms,” Korsy said. “Also, it's easier with your shirt off.” “You're lucky you're cute...” Henderson stripped down to his waist and put his arms up. “What, might I ask, are you looking for?” “Elf mark,” Korsy said. “Don't worry, There's only three possible ones below the belt and they're very unlikely considering already what we know about you, so I'll only look for those ones if I don't find any other one.” “Well, you won’t so I might as well undo my drawstrings…” Henderson stated. “Also, I have a lot of ‘marks'. Even if you think you found something, it's probably my condition.” “Elf marks are very specific. It’s not gonna look like a skin condition.” Korsy took out his phone to cross reference a photo he had from a book he wasn't allowed to read, let alone photograph. He checked under Henderson's armpits first. “Not an aquatic elf...” He turned out both of Henderson’s palms. “Not wood or wild.” “How many are there?” Theo asked. “Uh, several,” Korsy said. “About nine, I think?” He went behind Henderson and sighed. “Darn, not Avariel. That would've been unlikely, but so cool...” “What are Avariel?” Henderson asked. “Winged elves,” Theo said excitedly, pulling himself up off the couch so he could look too. “You do know your stuff,” Korsy said. “Anyway, they're long gone.” Korsy pushed forward Henderson's ears to check behind them. “Not Star or Lythari.” “What's left?” Theo asked. “Just Drow, Sun and Moon,” Korsy said. “I don't think he'd be drow, but we'll check anyway. Pants off.” “Are you serious?” Henderson huffed. “You can keep your panties on,” Korsy shrugged. “Just need a look at the inner thigh and then your butt.” “Let me guess, Moon is on the butt?” Henderson sighed. “…Listen, I don't make this stuff up. It's ancient,” Korsy said. “I can assure you, there's nothing there,” Henderson stated. “How often do you look at your butt?” Korsy asked. “Probably a lot,” Theo said. “He has a nice butt.” “I have a nice butt,” Henderson concurred. “Well, we can check the Sun first if you want,” Korsy said. “Not much hope for that one though, but we'll see.” “Where's that one?” Theo asked. “Sole of the foot,” Korsy said. “My feet are completely vitiligo at this point,” Henderson said. “Even if there was something there, it'd be gone.” “Humour me,” Korsy said. Henderson grimaced, but he sat down and put his foot up on the coffee table. “You better not have a foot fetish or something.” “I'm just taking a look, I'm not taking pictures,” Korsy said. “You didn't say ‘no'.” “I don't have a foot fetish,” Korsy stated. “Frankly, it's the last place I want to look. I'm a butt guy.” He went around the coffee table and picked up Henderson's foot before putting it down. “Hm. Other one.” Henderson switched feet, and then Korsy's eyes lit up. He picked up the other man's foot and wiped at it with his thumb, checking in case what he was seeing was dirt. “What?” Henderson groaned in annoyance. “Ha, you're walking on sunshine, baby!” Korsy said in delight. “You have to be kidding...” Henderson pulled his foot back so he could get up and try to look at his sole. Right on his heel, he saw the little circle of spots with little dots around the outside, mimicking solar flares. “What the hell...” Theo spread his arms. “Oh my god, you're a Sun Elf!” Henderson exhaled in frustration and put his foot down. “I...ugh, this is dumb...” “Sun elves are pretty incredible, I'm not gonna lie,” Korsy said. “I didn't suspect them, but it wasn't impossible. The whole extrovert thing makes sense though. They're very civil and good with magic.” “Are you happy now?” Henderson snapped. “You figured it out. Now what? Do you like me more knowing I'm an elf?” “Whoa, man. Chill,” Korsy said. “It's not like that at all. Just wanted to help you discover something new about yourself. Don't you want to know your background?” “No! I knew my background!” Henderson exclaimed. “I was proud to be what I was! What I knew! People have always tried to tell me that being who and what I am was bad, secondary, unimportant. They wanted me to be something else! But I made myself love me and my skin! I love my black heritage! I don't need to be anything else! Do you understand that?” “I'm not trying to take any of that away from you,” Korsy said. “But, I'm sorry, man, I... I don't know, I thought you'd want to know.” “I've said I didn't want to know,” Henderson reminded. “I don't need you to think for me.” “I'm sorry. I thought...” Korsy didn't know what else to say. “Did you, though? Did you really think?” Henderson asked. “I only let you do this because you're going through some shit right now and you needed a distraction. But this is too far.” Korsy crossed his arms. “Look, man. I said I'm sorry. I don't know what else to tell you. I don't appreciate you insulting me." “Oh, fuck off, honestly,” Henderson said. “I'm done with this.” “You agreed to do this.” “I didn't think you'd actually find anything!” Henderson spat. He went to the door and started pulling on his shoes. “What, you're just leaving?” Theo asked, waddling over. “I'm sorry, Theo. I just gotta go,” Henderson said. “No, this is my fault.” Theo apologised. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have encouraged him...” “It's fine, okay?” Henderson said opening the door. “I still... I need to breathe.” “Okay...” “I will call you.” “Okay.” Korsy went to follow Henderson. “Listen, let's just talk about this.” “No. Stay here,” Henderson said, stopping him with his hand. “You and Theo can geek out about elf shit and whatever. I gotta go.” “Alright, dude...” Korsy sighed. “I am sorry. Really.” Henderson backed out and just shut the door. “Shit...” Korsy groaned and went back to the couch. He covered his face. “Fucking hell... Am I just pushing away everyone today?” “It's okay... Henderson will calm down,” Theo said, coming back and sitting down. “I think it's just a lot for him to take in... And you didn't push your friend away. Everyone needs time.” Korsy took his hands away and his eyes were tearing up. “I just... I don't want people to be miserable. Not because of me.” “No one wants that, but honestly, they won't be,” Theo said. “I mean, I've been pretty fucking miserable lately, but I do think I’ll get through this... You'll get through this and so will they. And let me handle Henderson.” “Yeah... I'm really sorry I dropped in out of nowhere and dropped all this drama on you,” Korsy said. “I know you've got a lot going on.” “I've pretty much just accepted this stuff, so there's not actually much for me to do, except just keep sitting on my ass...” Theo said. “In a few weeks, I'm supposed to start growing again though. Not looking forward to that.” “Well, you've got good care and I think you're gonna get through it,” Korsy said. “I appreciate that.” Theo patted Korsy's knee. “And don't apologise for looking for help. What's worrying you most about this situation, though?” Korsy took a deep breath. “My friend... He says he doesn't want to be pregnant, and he bought a pill for it... But, I don’t know, I'm worried he'll change his mind? And I can't...I can't be a dad...” “Boy, do I feel that...” Theo said, rubbing his stomach. “But, I mean, I don't know your friend, but if you feel like he feels the same way, then I don't think you should worry about it.” “Yeah, I trust him,” Korsy said. “It's all I can do... And we're not a couple, and he has a pretty small apartment and he seems more work driven than anything, so I think we're okay, but it's just that little chance that's scaring me.” “Well, you said he might not be pregnant at all,” Theo said. “So, it's like there's three ways it could go, and the majority is in favour of no baby.” “Yeah, you're right...” Korsy closed his eyes for a moment. “You're right. Thanks.” “Listen, feel free to stay over if you want,” Theo said. “There's more food, and we could watch more Mando. To keep your head off of things.” “Yeah, if it's alright... If Henderson comes back though, he probably won't want to see me.” “Don't worry about Henderson. You know, we could play Mario Kart first.” “Yeah, so you can challenge my win streak?” “Last time was a fluke.” “Sure. You're on.”

[daitranscripts]

Sera Cutscene: What Pride Had Wrought

Elfy Shite

Sera Masterpost Related Quest: What Pride Had Wrought

Before heading to the Arbor Wilds Sera: Marching the Lot of us right up an ancient elf hole? Can’t wait to see more… woods.

The PC opens the door to Sera’s room in the Herald’s Rest.

Choice dependent dialogue:

PC drank [1]

Morrigan drank, asked Abelas about ancient elves [2]

Morrigan drank, did not ask Abelas about elves [3]

1 - PC drank Sera: Oh, hi, yeah? Listen, stand there. Right there.

She draws her bow and points an arrow at the PC

Sera: Now, about Mythal.

Dialogue options:

Anxious: Put that away! [4]

Angry: I just wanted to talk! [5]

Confused: What should my reaction be? [6]

4 - Anxious: Put that away! PC: Sera, whatever’s wrong, we can talk about it! Sera: Oh, for… ! Don’t piss yourself, I just wanted to make sure it was you in there! [7]

5 - Angry: I just wanted to talk! PC: Don’t aim that in my face, Sera! What is wrong with you! Sera: What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? If that is you. [7]

6 - Confused: What should my reaction be? PC: Sera, I don’t know what reaction you want, but can this be it so we can be done? a: All right, so maybe it’s still you. Someone needed to do something. [7]

7 - Scene continues.

Sera puts her bow away.

Sera: I mean, you went wading into a “Well of Sorrows.” Who hears that and thinks, “Well, dunk a butt, let’s have a go!”

Sera (asked about ancient elves): Even mad old Abelas said elves destroyed themselves. The only believable bit in a sea of clear demon bait. Sera (did not ask about ancient elves): I mean, that whole place, clearly demon bait. Top to bottom.

Sera: It makes messing with their relics real stupid. So! Test done, you’re still you. We can leave these lies behind. [12]

2 - Morrigan drank, asked Abelas about ancient elves Sera: (Stifled laugh.) I’m sorry. Oh, wait, no, I’m not. It’s just the funniest, innit? That creaky old Abelas in Mythal saying the elves weren’t destroyed by Tevinter?

General: A painful admission for him. [8]

General: You’re gloating? [9]

General: What’s so funny about it? [10]

8 - General: A painful admission for him. PC: An admission that did not come easy. Sera: Course it didn’t, because that’s elfy elves’ thing, being the sore losers of history. I never hear the end of it. [11]

9 - General: You’re gloating? PC: That’s some “long dead” you’re gloating over. Sera: Pfft, about time I got mine back. Elfy elves have shoved “victim” in my face a million times. [11]

10 - General: What’s so funny about it? PC: If that’s a joke, I don’t get it. Sera: Everyone is always, “Oh, poor elves, victims of this and whatever.” But the empire ate itself. Love it. [11]

11 - Scene continues.

Sera (Dalish PC): We’re not “proper” if we aren’t sad about the grand history “stolen” from us. Turns out we’re no better than anyone else. Sera (non-Dalish PC): Like being sad makes them better than me. Turns out, they’re not victims. They’re the same as everyone else: arseholes.

Sera: Plus, a big, old temple full of demon-worshipping lies. Grand, that. [12]

3 - Morrigan drank, did not ask Abelas about elves Sera: Oh, hi, you! Strange days, right? Weird elves and Morrigan going wading. Better her than you. Glad to be back where things make sense after the demon-worshipping lies of Mythal. When do we go after What’s-his-lumps? [12]

12 - Dialogue options:

Investigate (PC drank): This threat was a test? [13]

General: You think Mythal was all lies? [14]

General: This was about demon worship? [15]

General: What do you mean? [16]

13 - Investigate: This threat was a test? PC: How was aiming an arrow at my face a test? Sera: I heard once that if you’re possessed, the demon will defend itself against attack. Sounds stupid to say it out loud. I don’t know. I don’t know demons. At least if it’s true, the arrow’s right there. I’m sorry, yeah? Morrigan’s probably got better ways, but who can trust her?

Dialogue options:

Special: Never again, you hear me? [17] -Sera slightly disapproves

[Back to 12]

17 - Special: Never again, you hear me? PC: You never do that to me again. Sera: Fine, all right. Sorry I don’t know how to deal with rubbish no one was meant to. [back to 12]

14 - General: You think Mythal was all lies? PC: You seem pretty certain. You don’t believe anything from Mythal? Sera: Course not. What, I should believe all that stuff “because elves”? [18]

15 - General: This was about demon worship? PC: So your main takeaway is that elves worshipped demons? Sera: Well, they never call them that, yeah? But that’s what it had to be. [18]

16 - General: What do you mean? PC: Why are you dismissing what happened in Mythal? Sera: Of course. None of it holds up. [18]

18 - Scene continues.

Sera: I mean, it was impressive and all. Makes the Dalish look like tits for living in the woods. But so what? There can’t be a bunch of gods and the Maker. Don’t matter how much or little you believe, those don’t fit. So call me stupid, but I believe the stuff not made up by dead people who failed. Mythal is a ruin full of demons. I mean, it just makes sense, right?

Dialogue options:

Dalish: You’re insulting our heritage [19] -Sera disapproves

General: But what if even some is true? [20] -Sera slightly disapproves

General: I believe it was all true. [21] -Sera slightly disapproves

General: I agree it was all lies. [22] +Sera greatly approves

19 - Dalish: You’re insulting our heritage PC: That’s the legacy of our people you’re insulting! Sera: And? PC: And I’m Dalish and might take exception?

20 - General: But what if even some is true? PC: There’s so much history there. What if some of it is true? Sera: No, now you’re stupid. You can’t think that, because it’s stupid. PC: But everything we saw?

21 - General: I believe it was all true. PC: The evidence is hard to ignore. I believe it. Sera: No, now you’re stupid. You can’t think that, because it’s stupid. PC: But everything we saw?

23 - Scene continues.

Sera: Why believe it? Because Abelas looked weird? If that’s all it takes, Coryphy-shitheel is full of lumpy truth.

Sera: I get it, you’re an elf. Be all elfy. But this… Sera: You’re not even an elf. Why are you being so damned elfy?

Sera: You’re the frigging Herald of Andraste! Every time you open your mouth, you’ll sound like an idiot.

Dialogue options:

General: But it’s important. [24] -Sera greatly disapproves

General (claimed not-chosen): I’ve said I’m not her Herald. [25] -Sera disapproves

General (Andrastian PC): It wouldn’t be the first time. [26] +Sera approves

General: That hasn’t stopped you. [27] +Sera approves

24 - General: But it’s important. PC: People need to understand what this could mean. Sera: No, they don’t. A thousand miles away, all they’ll hear is you won. They won’t care what you mutter to yourself. And neither do I. So there you go. Scene ends. ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ 25 - General: I’ve said I’m not her Herald. PC: It’s not as if it matters what I believe. I’ve already denied being the Herald. Sera: Not for me to say, yeah? Just saying. Anyways, believe what you want. So long as we kill Coryphifish. Whatever. Scene ends. ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ 26 - General: It wouldn’t be the first time. PC: The Inquisition is probably used to me sounding like an idiot. Sera: Not for me to say, yeah? Just saying. Anyway, believe what you want. So long as we kill Coryphifish. Whatever. Scene ends. ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ 27 - General: That hasn’t stopped you. PC: Well, it works for you, so I’m in good company. Sera: Words are dumb. Haven’t had an argument yet I can’t end with arrows. Let me know when you want me to “discuss it” with Coryphy-shit. Scene ends.

22 - General: I agree it was all lies. PC: I’m with you, everything in that temple was highly suspect. Sera: Of course it was. You couldn’t be Herald and think otherwise, yeah? I mean, that would just be daft. So, main takeaway: we got really weird power, and we can throw it at Coryphy-whatever. Fighting shite with shite. It’s like poetry or something. I don’t know. Get a bard on that. We should go slap hands in the tavern. Scene ends.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

King Runaan of the Moonshadow Elves, pt 3

Ethari

Angst Rating: 6/10

Ethari isn’t an assassin, but he’s married to one, and to the king of the Moonshadows. He’s deeply in love, and a very good and loyal Moonshadow elf. It’s only natural that he shift his focus to keep the man he loves—and his king—alive on missions!

He loves making jewelry, and from Ethari’s birthday ficlet, Runaan actively brings him pretty stones so he can do that. But almost everything else we’ve seen him make has been for Runaan, or for the assassins he leads. Runaan definitely gets cool gadgets, though. 

The shadowhawk delivers messages swiftly in times of crisis.

The heartbloom flowers keep tabs on life signs. 

Runaan’s bowblade is the ultimate gift for a king. 

And Rayla’s butterfly blades are equally impressive for his chosen heir.

Ethari wasn’t just working his butt off to keep his husband alive. He was working to keep his king alive while he performs his dark duty as king and head assassin of the Moonshadow elves and upholder of the ancient promise.

And then he failed.

He’s not just suffering shock and grief. His eyes are wide open. He’s in horror. Everything he had, all his best tech ideas and all the love that drove him day and night, was not enough to save his king and his husband. The king is dead, long live the king.

Maybe there’s more to Ethari not pulling out Runaan’s lotus than we think. Mourning period for a king, maybe. Or subtly preventing a shift in power before he’s ready? Ethari is a craftsman, not an assassin. I don’t think he can be king of the Moonshadows. So maybe he’s stalling. For himself? For Rayla? Maybe the scheming for the right to wear the royal armpaint symbols has already begun. Does Runaan have siblings? Many of the other royals do!

Devon and Iain said in the Deluxe Elf Interview that Ethari could be trying to persuade the Silvergrove council to unghost Rayla for years. That makes a lot more sense when you realize that Ethari, a soft non-assassin, would basically be asking forgiveness from the king’s entire clan for a kingkiller who caused their liege’s death.

And lo, all the people did say, Oof.

Rayla’s observation in Ethari’s birthday fic that Runaan’s bruises and scrapes from training make his husband sad hits a little differently now. Runaan has to lead. He has to stay in tiptop shape for everyone’s sake. If he should fall, Rayla would inherit the throne, and he’s not ready to put that on her shoulders yet. (Remember what happened to Kasef, who inherited before he was ready?) His family needs him, and his people need him. Like Thor, Runaan has no plans to die today. 

But his training is harsh because he pushes himself to be the best for everyone else’s sake. He gets hurt sometimes. And Ethari has to patch him up. Seeing the physical toll of Runaan’s dedication makes Ethari not-so-secretly sad indeed.

One thing I didn’t mention in the first section: the Moon staff. Runaan wears it on his skin now, as if he’s standing under its shadow. It strikes me as very ominous. But does he actually have the Moon staff shoved in his closet behind the winter coats or something? Or did something happen to it 300 years ago, when Aaravos was imprisoned?

If Runaan doesn’t actually have a Moon staff right now, it sure is convenient that he’s married to a Master Craftsman who’s good with enchantments. Perhaps Ethari can craft him one. @random-fandom-ramble​ has a delightful Artificer Ethari headcanon, and I’m absolutely jonesing for Ethari to make something truly astonishing. Like a Moon primal stone for his husband’s staff of office.

Or for his daughter’s.

part 4

[ten0rreaper]

Here’s my entry to the @pnatsecretsanta for 2020! @quarktrinity, I hope you enjoy! It’ll be crossposted to ao3, link will be in a reblog. Thank you for your patience!

Isabel: hey so

Isabel: when are u going to get here

Max: wat?

Max: its xmas ev

Isabel: you really need to get a new phone

Isabel: and remember? youre supposed to come to my place tonight, wait it out

Isabel: max?

Isabel: if you were spacing out again im going to kill you

Isabel: you WERE doing the face again now that i think about it

Max: u guys ned 2 mak imprtnt info cler. Y i spcd

Isabel: you need to listen! this time mr spender remembered to tell u and everything. youre not allowed to be mad at us this time

Isabel: in short, get ur butt over here before midnight. sneak out if u need to, thats what isaac does

Isabel: in long, if u dont santas gonna kill u

----

“Let me get this straight.” 11:30 P.M. December 24th, 20XX. Max sat in Ed’s room on a chair hastily drawn up, with a jacket pulled hastily over his pajamas and hat still jammed on his head, massaging his temples. “Santa’s real, he’s a spirit, and he hates all spectrals and is coming to kill us?”

“That’s a bit of an oversimplification, but yeah,” Isaac said, and Max shot him a glare. He could hear that smugness. “So like, there’s a lot of spirits that kinda grow from ideas humans have, right? I don’t know what’s up with Scrapdragon, but like, Muse came from the ideas around ancient Greek muses, like his name. They can be really off base but still have the same ideas- like Lucifer, Mr. Spender’s spirit, is just some lightbulb guy, but Lucifer does mean light and stuff, so they can just be along those lines. But like, a LOT of kids believe in Santa and think about him a lot, so there’ve been a few spirits that manifested around the idea of a guy who can get anywhere to deliver presents to good kids and punishments to bad ones, especially with stories like Krampus too.”

“But most spirits can’t interact with humans, so this guy mostly goes around to other spirits and ghosts and stuff,” Isabel said, distracted by her attempts to spin her umbrella like a top. “So he likes spirits a lot. And we kick a lot of spirit butt,” she punctuated this with a particular spirited spin of the umbrella, “so he hates us and comes to try to kill us every year. And because he can teleport, he can get inside the barrier. So gramps makes us all stay with him until sunrise every year so that all the adults can fight off santa and his reindeer so we don’t get put in a sack and teleported somewhere.”

Max groans and tries to fall backwards in his chair, but the chair doesn’t budge. “Your paint really isn’t good for drama,” Max informed Ed.

“Don’t be so dramatic then,” Ed snickered. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Says you, You just stay at home all night. I have to sneak out! My dad’ll kill me if he finds out!”

“I just put a pillow in my blankets and it’s fine,” Isaac says with a shrug. “If your dad looks harder than that, we probably have a tool lying around that can wipe memories or something.”

“I don’t want to mind wipe my dad,” Max grumbled, but resigned himself to slumping grumpily in his chair to watch Ed play some punching game or whatever. Bad enough that his own baseball bat might want to eat him, and he was trapped in this town with no way out- now Christmas hated him too. 

Isaac caught his eye and smiled sympathetically. “You get used to it,” he whispered.

“I thought I was used to it a month ago.”

Max jumped as a knock on the door sounded, glaring at Isabel’s laughter. The door opened without waiting for a response. Mr. Spender poked his head in through the door with a goofy grin. “Alright, kids! You all ready for this year’s Christmas night?”

Ed didn’t even look away from his video game, waving lazily. “We could use some snacks. That’d be nice.”

“Yeah, where are the snacks, old man? You want us to starve?” Isabel waved her umbrella at him like a grumpy old woman might a cane.

“You’re well fed enough already. I made sure of that.” It spoke wonders to how used to this existence Max had become that Mr. Spender knocking politely had scared him, but Isabel’s grandpa floating through the wall didn’t. The man’s bulk and imperious gaze still caused him some anxiety, though, and he had to consciously remind himself that he’s a punk, he’s cool, and he doesn’t respect anyone’s authority, even a scary ghost’s. Yeah, totally. 

The atmosphere of the room quickly shifted, and Isabel’s eyes dropped. “Yeah, I was just joking. Sorry, Grandpa.”

“Joke or not, this night is too much effort to make light of. My students and I are putting ourselves at risk for you,” Mr. Guerra said, looming over the room, “so only vocalize a need if you need it.”

Isabel glowered at the carpet. “Alright, Grandpa…”

“So. I will ask again. Are you all prepared? Midnight strikes soon.”

“We are, sir,” Isaac said. Max fought not to pull a face at Isaac’s please pay attention to me, authority figure tone, but for once it was helpful, so whatever. He could let it slide. 

Mr. Guerra eyed Isaac. “...good. We’ll get you once the sun begins to rise.” And with that, he turned away and slid down through the floor. Max could already hear him barking at the pupils below.

Mr. Spender grimaced. “Well… good! Everything’s all set then.”

Isabel grumbled, picking at the carpet.

“...trust me,” Mr. Spender said, forcing audibly fake cheer into his voice, “This isn’t a hassle at all. You guys getting stuffed into a sack- now, that would be quite the kerfuffle!”

They all stared as Mr. Spender slowly deflated. “...sure,” Max said. “Uh, we’ll be good, stay up here, it’s fine.”

“Great.” Mr. Spender nodded, stared awkwardly for a moment, and stepped out the door. “Well, Merry Christmas, children!” He shut the door behind him. Max listened with the others as his footsteps hurried down the hall to the stairwell.

Silence reigned for a few minutes, a distinctly uncomfortable experience for Max. It was almost impossible not to ramble, and he was reaching his breaking point and about to open the floodgates of inane and overly verbose chatter when Ed, thankfully, took point.

“That sucked,” he said simply, and Isabel groaned and fell back.

“I hate when he does that!” Isabel laid her umbrella by her side and waved her hands in the air exasperatedly. “It’s like he has no in between and I’m always either The Best And He’s So Disappointed In Me For Not Being Perfect or A Helpless Kid He Needs To Do Everything For! He always gets like this tonight!”

Ed paused his game, and reached around to pat her on the knee. “I mean, we could prove him wrong. We beat up spirits all the time, how hard could this be?”

“Okay, hold up, hand on,” Max said. “No? I- this is a terrible idea, you just got finished telling me about how if I wasn’t here I’d be killed by Santa, and now you want to go out there and fight Santa?”

“Well, not Santa,” Ed said. “Duh. He mostly just sends his reindeer to do everything and hangs out on rooftops.”

“And no offence Max, but uh…” Isaac scratched the back of his head.

“You’d totally get killed if you were on your own.” Isabel flipped herself upright. “All you got is that dinky bat, and magnet powers. You can’t even do a spec shot, dude, you’d get thrown in a sack in no time. We’d be fine.”

Max crossed his arms. “Alright, screw you too.”

“But other than that… that sounds like it could be pretty fun.” Isabel grinned. “Show the old man and his big dumb deer who’s boss. Maybe then he’ll stop coming to Mayview every year.”

“That would be pretty nice actually.” Isaac was clearly thinking hard- he had his broody face on. “I would like to stop having to sneak out every year. Sooner or later my parents will notice.”

Max shuddered. “Actually, yeah, Isaac has a point. I don’t want to die to Rudolph or anything, but if we keep having to do this, I’ll die to my dad, which is way worse honestly.”

“Your dad’s a teddy bear,” Isabel said, and rolled her eyes. “Stop complaining.”

“You haven’t seen him when I fail a test!”

“So are we going or what?” Isabel was already pulling her jacket back on, tucking her umbrella firmly under her arm. Ed bounced on the balls of his feet with a grin, already eyeing up the window and painting himself a rope. 

Max looked at Isaac, who shrugged and got to his feet. Max sighed, and stood up, regretfully leaving his scooter on the floor. “Yeah, alright. We’re going.”

Well, Max was regretting this. He was regretting this so much. He tromped through the snowy woods, eternally grateful for his boots. “Why in the world do we have to fight the spirits of Christmas in the woods? Why can’t we do it in town, or like, on the road at least? The roads we salted. The roads wouldn’t be as cold.”

“Cuz we’d get caught, dummy,” Isabel snorted. Or maybe it was a sniffle. “Either someone from the dojo would hear us and yell at us and get in the way before we can prove anything, or someone in town would yell at us and call the cops or something.”

“Maybe having people nearby to help isn’t a bad thing? You can’t just say that after saying that I’m the most likely person to die!”

“You came out here anyway,” Isaac pointed out, and looked all too unaffected by Max’s glare.

“I hate you. I hate you with everything in my being you- you chump elf.”

Isabel laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, this place looks pretty good, huh?” She stopped, looking around the snowy clearing they’d come into and turning in place. She nodded, satisfied. “There’s room to fight here, and we could come up with some pretty solid traps. Isaac wouldn’t have to worry too much about blasting a bunch of trees.”

“Looks pretty good!” Ed pulled off a mitten with his teeth and dug his paint brush out of his pocket. “What’re you thinkin, Izzy? Tripwire? Net?”

“Let’s go net,” Isaac said. “They can fly.”

“Plus, last time you tripped Isaac, remember?” Isabel elbowed Ed in the side. “Max and I are pretty fast, but Isaac needs some help.”

“Please. I can jump higher than your house is tall.”

“But you still fell just flat on your face,” she cooed. Isaac grumbled, cursing her just loud enough for Isabel to overhear, but she just batted her eyes and paid him no mind. “Okay, so,” she said, looking up at the sky through the hole in the canopy, “we probably only have a few more minutes before one of the reindeer finds us-”

And that’s when a dark shape, faster than cheetah and twice as forceful, barrelled into Max.  And off he went, hanging by the hood of his jacket on a wicked sharp antler prong, into the sky and away to the sound of jingling bells.

----

Things were quiet this year, Richard reflected. It was honestly a relief- maybe the spirit had finally given up. Probably too much to hope for, but, Christmas miracles and all. In any case, there seemed to be plenty of time to get the kids some mugs of hot cocoa and cookies to wait out the night with.

“Need any help balancing those?” Day asked, and Richard felt his mood become momentarily strained.

“Actually, that would be nice, if you think you could.” The tray of mugs and cookies he was balancing was quite the challenge, after all. Day reached up and somehow grabbed the plates of cookies perfectly- Spender could swear he saw her eyes flash for a moment, smart woman- and left him to balance the four mugs. A much easier task now.

“I really thought things would be more eventful, with how much Francisco was fussing over it, but everything’s pretty quiet, isn’t it?” Day smiled and followed Richard’s footsteps to the stairs.

“Well, usually there’s more cause for it, but the spirits seem to be laying low this year. Not an unwelcome reprieve in the slightest, but I do worry about Max… if this isn’t the new status quo, I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

“He’s a- well, he seems like a really smart kid,” Day reassured him. “I think he’ll make sure to be careful next year too!”

“I hope so. He does seem resourceful, but… he can be reckless.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she said, before stopping with a small frown on her face. “They’re being pretty quiet…”

Spender listened for a moment himself. “Hm, they are… mayhaps they went to bed early?”

“That doesn’t sound like them.”

“No,” he said, dread creeping into his heart. “It doesn’t.”

He set the tray of cookies on the floor. He approached Ed’s room. He knocked.

He opened the door.

Richard’s lips thinned into a grim line as he surveyed the dark room. “They’re gone.”

------

Max screamed for his life as he was lifted faster than he could process into the sky. It was a clear, starry night, and they all looked like streaks as his captor circled through the sky, closer and closer to the top of the dome before colliding headfirst into it. Max didn’t have any more air in his lungs to scream as he was jostled loose and began to fall down, down- only to be caught again, this time like a sack of potatoes on the spirit’s back. He was overwhelmed by the sound of silver bells as he caught his breath, eyes screwed tightly shut.

Eventually, his lungs rallied to his call, and he was able to take in an unpleasant few gulps of animal-scented air. Max cracked his eyes open a peek- and immediately shut them again. Too high. He was way, way too high up. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest, and the wind burned his face and the tips of his ears.

Hold on.

“My hat,” he wheezed reaching one hand up to grope the top of his head. “My hat’s gone!”

“Soon that will be of no matter.”

Max screamed- even he was getting fed up with his own screams at this point, but instinct didn’t seem to be on the same page.

“Quiet,” the rumbling voice said, and the spirit turned to look at Max. “Your sounds irritate me.”

The spirit that held Max on its back was by far the biggest deer of any Max had ever seen. It was shaggy and majestic, even as its fur was electric yellow, and its huge rack of knife-like antlers shivered as if they were made of candle flame. Its many eyes blinked, and it beared serrated teeth- a stark contrast to the many silver bells that seemed a part of its pelt. Max looked away, avoiding its cruel gaze, to see three pairs of legs, hooves thundering over empty air. And below him, seven more enormous shapes were blazing their way towards the distant forest clearing, led by an eerie red light. “Oh no, oooooh no, no no no no no no…”

“But yes, child. At last you have been retrieved, and soon your friends will be as well. Then, you can all face your punishment.” The spirit laughed cruelly. “I am Dasher, and I was simply the herald.”

“So you’re just, you’re just Dasher? Like from the poem? One of those things down there is…” Jeez, this was surreal. “...Donner? And, Vixen?”

“Many tremble in fear before those names. It would do you right to show some respect.”

“What? No, nobody does! You guys are like, goofy little stop motion dolls, man, how’d you guys end up looking like this?”

“Our powers are untold by your human poems-”

“Aren’t you guys based on the poems?!”

Dasher snorted and tossed his head in anger. “That is an egregious oversimplification-”

“I thought your name was Dasher, not Dictionary.”

The spirit cried out in frustration, and Max felt something in him settle a bit better. Poking things with words, he could do that. Just don’t look down. “So, uh,” he began, shifting a bit so it was less like he was thrown over Dasher and more like he was riding him, “why am I not in a sack yet?”

“Our pilot is attending to his annual business in Mayview,” Dasher growled. “It is we who have the ability to fight and fly- so it is we who collect naughty children. Once your compatriots have been obtained, then we may return to our stations.”

“Wow,” Max drawled. “I can’t believe Santa needs his reindeer to deal with three preteens.”

“You do have a teenager within your ranks. That does provide some extra challenge.”

“Whoa, wait, really?”

“Yes. He cannot fully be counted as a child by our pilot any longer- he has aged enough to become a teenager. It is not he that we seek.”

“Wow, that’s weirdly arbitrary and nitpicky.” Max was so going to tease Isaac about this later. If he didn’t, well, get thrown into a sack and… baked into a pie? Eaten alive? Thrown into a dungeon? Whatever. Try to be positive.

“If you take issue, you may air your complaints to our pilot.”

“Taking it straight to the manager, alright.” Max stared at his hands, balled in bright yellow fur, and took a deep breath as he relaxed them. He wasn’t going to fall, he was certain Dasher wouldn’t allow him, channel a Karen- and he released the fur, balancing on the spirit’s back with only his legs. Before he could lose his nerve, he swung his backpack off his shoulder and grabbed his bat. Okay, weapon acquired. Just… what to do with it.

Dasher huffed. “Puny weapon. Even with the power of an enslaved spirit, you cannot defeat me. Especially not with a spirit as weak as that one.”

“Ugh, not you too,” Max grumbled. At least this thing wasn’t getting aggressive. “I’m kinda tired of being called the weak one, it’s getting old.”

“It would have been better, then, if you had kept your power to yourself, and not bothered the true denizens of this world, as the other child does.”

“Other child-? You know what, I don’t know what you’re talking about and I do not care. Now let me think.” Max re-gripped Dasher tightly, this time grabbing the reigns, and looked around. Man, of course Max got magnet powers in the place where there’s no tall buildings anywhere- it would be great if they could pass by a skyscraper or two for Max to attach himself to. But alas… then, his eyes caught a gleam, a dark silhouette against the colorful lights of Mayview. 

A transmission tower in the woods. And they were heading right for it. Max shrugged his backpack back on to his shoulder and gripped his bat as tight as he could.

“Thinking will get you nowhere, child.”

“Yeah, but it’ll keep me quiet,” Max mumbled.

“True,” Dasher said. And started to turn back towards the clearing.

“No!” Max yelped, holding his bat out desperately- he knew the tower was too distant still, but he put all his will into the bat, trying to extend its power as far as he can-

Dasher lurched beneath him with a confused cry, the bells jangled, and Max’s focus was broken with a shout. Immediately, Dasher steadied beneath him.

“Child, if you do that again I will throw you off into the ground-”

“What- I don’t even know what I did-” Max’s breath caught as he realized what happened. The bells. They were metal, and he had what was definitely a terrible idea. But it was his only idea.

Quickly, before Dasher could retaliate, Max activated his bat. Dasher howled with rage as all the bells in his body strained in the direction of the magnetic center, and Max laughed with panic. 

“RELEASE ME AT ONCE-”

“No,” Max said, filled with thrill and panic, and directed Dasher back towards the clearing. The spirit barrelled towards it at supernatural speeds, a furious scream echoing through the night as he crashed into the snow like a comet. Max tumbled off of the spirit’s back, and the bat’s angle changed wildly, forcing Dasher in mad circles.

The other seven deer spirits, crowded in the woods, were as thrown into chaos as Isabel, Ed, and Isaac were, but Ed recovered fastest. “Max!” He crowed, head popping out of the snow. “You’re alive!”

“Somehow!” Max laughed, voice squeaky with panic. “For now!” In the corner of his eye, he noticed another spirit- a large one that was on fucking fire, so must be either Comet or Blitzen- and quickly swung his bat around to point at it. Dasher was forced to charge full speed into the other spirit, which dissolved into a wisp with a cry of shock.

Isabel whooped. “I can’t believe it! Magnet powers are good for something!”

“Serves you right!” He felt about to shake apart, and still dizzy from the crash, but spinning Dasher around like a top was easy enough- and the other jingling spirits were drawn in too. It was a glorious explosion of color, sound, and christmas spirits as one by one they melted each other away into whisps. Finally, only Dasher stood in the snow, puffing furious, cloudy breaths into the air.

“You will pay,” Dasher hissed. “Naughty children. You will not escape your punishment, this I swear to you.”

“Whatever you say, bub,” Ed chirped, and raised his scythe above his head.

“Wait!”

Max and the others turned back to look just in time to watch an arrow streak through the night and imbed itself in Dasher’s forehead. “No, no,” he groaned, watching Isabel’s face light up with glee.

Agent Day and Mr. Spender ran into the clearing, both panting and exhausted. “Thank goodness we found you,” Agent Day breathed, hands on her knees. “We were so worried that you were taken…”

“But I saw Dasher fall from the sky!” Spender’s chest heaved, and he swayed with effort, but he somehow managed to stay upright. “I’m so glad you’re all alright, even Dasher alone is quite the challenge to combat…”

“Nah, we got all of them.” Isabel grinned and punched her palm. “Max was able to yank ‘em around by the bells with his bat, and he got em all to poof each other. It was really easy to hit ‘em when they were all clumped up, too.”

“You- you really beat them all? Where are their tools?!”

“Right here, Mr. Spender!” Isaac called, arms full of a few rocks and sticks. “They’re, uh, not much to look at, but…”

“Amazing! Wonderful job, all of you- these will be great for the club’s stores!”

“But you shouldn’t have snuck out. We were so worried about you, and you’re glad we found you! Your grandfather is worried sick!” Agent Day wrung her hands together, cane stuck in the snow.

“Yes, he’s… not happy,” Spender admitted. “But, surely he’ll be proud when he finds out what you’ve accomplished?”

“Probably not,” Isabel sighed, sticking her hands in her pockets.

“...probably not.” Spender came over to put a hand on her shoulder. “But, for what it’s worth, I am.” Isabel looked up at him, then threw her arms around him. Spender smiled softly and hugged her in return.

“This is great,” Max groaned. “But I’m being crushed by a flippin’ reindeer, so can I get some help?”

Oblivious to Max’s irritation, Dasher continued licking Max’s hair life the reindeer he resembled. “You’re not so bad, I suppose. Resourceful child.”

“It always happens to me.”

“The arrow will at least last the night,” Agent Day said thoughtfully. “It should be safe for you to go home, in that case- you too, I think, Isaac! Since all the others are gone, after all… Maybe Dasher can take you home!”

“Nooooo!”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Ms. Day,” Spender said. “You could perhaps take Isaac and Ed back to the dojo, and I can take Isaac back to his home…?”

“Yes sir!” Day smiled. “Merry Christmas, Max, Isaac,” she said. “I hope you get back undetected.”

“Thank you, Ms. Day,” Isaac said. “You too.”

“You guys suck,” Max grumbled.

----

It took a bit for Max to wrangle Dasher into taking him home, but under Day’s spell, the spirit was a fairly easygoing ride. As Max climbed back in through his window to his undisturbed bed, he heard the spirit settle on the roof to keep watch for the sunrise. And, taking comfort in not being discovered and in the knowledge that next year, when he’s a teen, he won’t have to worry about any of this, Max changed back into his pajamas, settled into bed, and slipped into a deep sleep.

[writerman]

Prompt, if you wish?: Bard finding out about Thranduil’s scar.

I was going to do this yesterday but I fell asleep at 1pm and woke up at midnight last night so... this is a breakfast time reply.

Thank you for your prompt! 

Note to self: try and make these things shorter so you don’t get invested in the story Leo and end up wanting to make it a multichapter fic!!

-------

"My lord, a-are you sure you wish to do this? The mortal king may not react well."

Bard had only caught part of the conversation as he was led into Thranduil's study but did not hear the king's response.

When Thranduil and his advisor entered the room Bard turned to greet them with a smile but only Thranduil returned it.

The advisor did not so much as look at Bard, his attention fixed on his king as he trailed behind him trying to keep his expression neutral.

"And in any case, Galion, the thoughts of mortal men have not concerned you before why would it do so now?" A silky tone was a dangerous one and Bard had heard such being used before.

Thankfully he had never been on the receiving end of such refined ire but he'd seen how well that had ended for the recipient when he had witnessed it for himself as an innocent bystander.

“Be that as it may, my lord, I do not worry for myself but rather,” Galion paused, his hazel eyes slid to where Bard stood but his words were directed to Thranduil, “You.” It seemed the wrong thing to say as Thranduil’s eye twitched ever so slightly as tried to restrain any sort of negative facial expression.

There was a tense moment wherein silence ruled the room and Bard had to admit to himself the whole exchange was very uncomfortable and overall rude. The elves spoke about him as though he was not present and had Bard been anyone else that slight would have cost them dearly.

Thankfully, Bard had endured worse and he was sure Thranduil would explain himself once Galion was safely dismissed to run errands at the other side of the palace.

It was better for him that way.

“That will be all, Galion.” The dismissal was firm but still, the butler had to bite back his response lest it is seen as arguing with the king. Bard knew they argued often, they were close, closer than most royals would be with their staff and they often butt heads over small things that would be forgotten the next day.

This was nothing new but Thranduil had to keep up appearances regardless of who the visitor was, and so, Galion merely nodded and turned on his heel to leave.

Another moment of silence before Thranduil let out a sigh as he watched Galion’s retreating back right up until the door shut behind him. When he did look to his visitor, Bard was gifted with a rather wicked smile.

“I do so enjoy the moments wherein he truly believes he is in trouble.” Wicked words to match that grin and Bard breaks out into peals of laughter, he was soon joined by Thranduil laughing along also. “He will likely try to apologise this evening and all will be well.”

“It does seem like he was trying to ensure your wellbeing more than anything, is there a reason that made you so angry?” It was better to be bold than to meander around a question with Thranduil, he was as fast as a viper and did not suffer those that tarried in their words.

His question sobered Thranduil to a degree and the smile was lost to a stormy demeanour as he is reminded of just what it had been they were arguing about.

Another heaving sigh from the king and Bard moved around to Thranduil’s side. Pulling the elf into an embrace was all he could offer at the moment and thankfully Thranduil was easily drawn in and offered up no resistance.

“Something you want to tell me?” When they parted from the embrace Thranduil looked no less angry but it was clear he was inside his own head and the emotions displayed were not for Bard.

“Hmm, it is not like Galion to have me second guess myself, but in this case perhaps his words were wiser than I initially gave credit for.” It didn’t answer Bard’s question at all but it was a start.

When it was clear Thranduil would offer little else in the way of information Bard moved back around the desk that had originally separated them and took his seat. Upon seeing this Thranduil did the same all the while his eyes were focussed on Bard quite clearly trying to gauge a reaction to something he was still unaware of.

To fill the time Bard reached out to the pitcher set upon a tray with two chalices and poured them both a drink. It had been there when he entered the room so he was surprised that, when he took a sip of the wine, it was still cool.

Thranduil was still as a statue when Bard sat back in his seat, the piercing blue of his eyes still on him to the point that it became quite unnerving. A shiver was subdued as Bard busied himself with his drink again.

In a bid to urge the elf to move or speak, Bard set his own drink down, leaned over the table and with his fingertips slid the other chalice across the table toward Thranduil.

This movement finally prompted Thranduil to relax and he reached out for the drinking vessel bringing it to his lips quickly to drink long and deep.

When he set the chalice down he seemed to have regained something of himself and had the decency to look almost apologetic.

“Bard, my love…” Impossibly soft and yet filled with pain Thranduil addressed him, and before Bard could respond he spoke again, “You know I am an ancient thing compared to you, and this is not a slight against you but I feel you need to be reminded of who and what I am.”

It did not sound good, whatever Thranduil felt he had to reveal, for who the pain was for did not matter as it would likely affect them both. Bard squirmed in his seat and passed it off as getting comfortable, as though he was not terrified that there was a possibility that what would come next had the potential to break his heart.

That was always the fear in the back of his mind.

“We elves, as you know, live impossibly long lives. Our stories span the pages of books so old that they were written years before even your great-great-grandfather was born. We have seen great pain and loss in wars that you believed to be only myth and we bear the scars of those battles also.” As he said this the air around him seemed to ripple and to Bard’s horror, the skin on the left side of Thranduil’s face faded away revealing a scar they seemed new and unhealed raw and red.

The angry wound and the white eye that moved uselessly in the socket was nothing Bard had ever seen before. He stared in silence as fresh blood welled up before spilling down his jaw to his neck and staining the pale blue fabric of the tunic the elf wore.

A hiss of pain brought Bard back and he swallowed the horror as he leapt from his seat.

The sudden movement from Bard, utterly misconstrued as fear, hurt Thranduil down to his very soul, more so than any ancient and magical wound could, the onset of betrayal winding its way around his heart and lungs before he could rationalise Bard’s movements.

But when a cool hand was pressed to the right side of his face the feelings all but vanished, and when Bard came into view looking scared he knew he could not regret his decision to show this part of him.

“Do you need me to call Galion?” Bard’s words were thick in his mouth, his tongue dry as anxiety rose in his chest at the sight of Thranduil in pain. “What is this, what happened?” No reply came as Thranduil replaced the glamour and dabbed at the blood on his neck in a bid to clean himself up.

Seeing the elf struggle, Bard plucked the handkerchief Thranduil had pulled from his pocket and wiped away the blood, all the while his clicked his tongue at the stain left behind on Thranduil’s tunic knowing full well he would never see the elf wear it again.

“Old wounds from old magic, Bard. It is something I will always live with but tell me, does this change how you feel for me?” Thranduil croaked, his eyes on Bard, all the while still reeling from the pain that the glamour slowly numbed from the outside in.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t love you because you have a face men and women would die fighting for. I love you because you are honest and continue to prove that almost daily, not only that but you’re caring and protective… I mean I do also love you because you’re handsome too but that is just a small part of it.” Bard finished with a smile and he laughed when Thranduil only ‘hmm’d’ at his words before pulling him down into a kiss.

“I suppose I can believe you,” Thranduil began once they had parted from their kiss, “But you understand why Galion was so concerned earlier now?”

He did understand, completely and utterly but it did sting that the elf had thought there was a possibility that Bard would reject Thranduil upon seeing the wound on his face. Then again, he had every right to worry for his king so all in all Bard wouldn’t hold it against him.

“I understand, so don’t be too hard on him when you see him next, all right?”

“Let me have my fun, Bard. He already believes he is in trouble with his king, I might see how deep he digs himself into a hole before I reveal he has nothing to fear from me or yourself.”

Thranduil was terrible, but he was Bard’s favourite kind of terrible.

 “For an ancient being, you can be childish when you want to be.”

“Oh, I know.”