#pre-battle of ostagar

[shannaraisles]

The Warden's Witch - @euryalex

For the delightful @euryalex, who requested a crossover of BG3 and Dragon Age, with her OC Tara and Wyll Ravengard dropped into the wild world of Thedas. Lots of fun to write, and there may be more to come!

The Warden’s Witch

The shade rose from the stones, claws already reaching for the Grey Warden. 

Wyll stumbled backward, sword still sheathed at his hip, shield raised only for protection. 

“Wait!”

The shade, perhaps surprised to be addressed when about to attack, hesitated, and Wyll sensed more curiosity than hostility for the briefest of moments. Time enough to make his plea.

“The Chasind say you can grant protections in exchange for a gift,” he said, hoping he was staring the thing in the eyes. “I’ve come to be that protection for someone.”

Gazarath paused in its slow advance, flame licking at the tips of those outstretched claws, but again, Wyll realised it was waiting for him to speak. He swallowed against the knot in his throat, forcing out the words that he knew he should not be speaking.

“I have a friend,” he began. “A very dear friend. When battle is joined, we Wardens will be in the vanguard to face this first push of the Blight, and it is unlikely any of us will survive. I beg your protection upon Alistair Theirin, unknown brother of the king, and my friend.”

It was not just any life he was asking for. Whether Alistair knew it or not, whether he wanted it or not, his life was about to change. Cailan was no fool; he must know of his bastard brother, and know that Alistair was the only heir he could possibly field at this point in his life. If Alistair died, the Calenhad line would die, and Orlais would be back to thoroughly subsume Ferelden once more. Wyll could not bear to see that happen, not when his family had bled so much to see the Orlesians pushed from the country in living memory. 

“And what do you offer in place of his life?”

The question seared into his mind, scorching words riddled with scorn for what this demon perceived as cowardice on his part. Wyll bristled against that ignorant assumption of his character, but forced the retort away. Antagonising this ... thing ... was not the way to go in order to get what he felt was needed. Instead, he just had to hope that his Chasind contact had been correct in her assertion as to the reason this shade still haunted this spot. 

“I have heard that you long for death,” he said, his tone wary, eyes watchful for any sign that the shade might take this as an invitation to attack. “I am not strong enough to give you such release myself, but I guarantee to you that I will draw out a party of Wardens with more than strength enough to do this deed.”

“Death ...”

He held his breath as the shade pondered his offer, hoping it would be enough. 

After all, the two recruits looked strong enough, even if Daveth couldn’t quite get his head around the fact that there would be a woman joining them when Duncan got back from Kinloch. They were be among those who were sent out to find him when he did not return. And Duncan himself had said he would send the recruits with Alistair out here to fetch the contents of the warded strongbox in the tower yonder, currently teeming with darkspawn. They would have to pass this way, and they would not be able to resist the urge to summon Gazarath without knowing what it was. Since it attacked everyone who wasn’t ready for it, Wyll saw no lie in what he was offering. 

WIthout warning, a sudden blast of energy erupted from the shade, his hand automatically gripping the hilt of his sword, the blade half-unsheathed before he realised it had been no attack. The shade merely stood before him, amid its cairn of stones, power now linking him and it. And there was a third thread he could sense, the blood link he shared with his fellow Wardens telling him that the recipient of that third thread was Alistair. 

“You will not return to your Wardens. You will be an exile, as I have been, until the day you die.”

Relief flooded him. Gazarath had taken the deal. Alistair was survive the coming battle. After that, it would be up to him, but Wyll had given his friend a chance he did not know was coming, and that was what truly mattered to him. He sheathed his sword, saluting the shade with a fist against his heart as the creature sank back into the stones to await its now inevitable end. 

“Well, now.”

Wyll jumped, spinning about to find a dark-haired, pale-skinned woman behind him, staff in one hand, dark eyes trained on his face. Witch. She smirked at the alarm on his face. 

“What do we have here?” she said, her cadence warm, if measured. “A lone Grey Warden, doing deals with the restless shade of a demon that once hounded a Chasind woman to her death out of possessive lust. How far the mighty do fall.”

“I am not here to answer to you, witch,” he said, with more bravado than he felt. He was alone in the Korcari Wilds, there were darkspawn uncomfortably close, and a Chasind witch stood between him and the path to the road. 

“No, you are here to bargain for the life of your friend,” she said, and he could have sworn he saw something more compelling than curiosity in her gaze. Was that ... envy, perhaps? Longing? “What is it about this friend that makes you so willing to throw away everything in order to keep him safe?”

He could not have said why, but in that moment, he felt no need to lie. Perhaps it was the danger of his situation; perhaps it was that she had done nothing to even threaten harm. Perhaps he just needed someone living to know, before he, too, succumbed to the blighted corruption and died doing what he had sworn to do. 

“He and I were Joined together,” he told her, this stranger in the wilds, a witch perhaps of legend. “We swore our vows together, drank the cup together. We trained together. He is the closest I have ever had to a true brother. He does not deserve to have his life end here and now because of the foolish ambitions of the king.”

“And you do?” Her brow rose, curious at his eagerness to throw away his life. 

“His life will be a great one, I am sure of it,” Wyll informed her. “My own worth is determined by how many darkspawn I will take with me to the grave.”

“Oh, I do not -”

But her rebuttal, however sincere it might have been, was broken by the sound genlocks charging from the trees, and from then on, instinct took over. Wyll found himself standing back to back with a witch, an apostate mage, trusting her to keep him alive as she trusted him to do the same, both of them united against the Blighted foe without the need for further words. Black blood was spilled, scorched, blasted into oblivion. In a matter of minutes, the Wilds were quiet once more, and Wyll stood, panting as he cleaned and sheathed his blade, his eyes checking over the woman who had just saved his life.

“Are you hurt?”

Her head snapped up from her own inspection, the surprise in her gaze more than enough to tell him that her own safety was a matter of second concern for those who usually surrounded her. 

“I ... I am unharmed,” she managed through her surprise, lowering her staff from its defensive position. She cleared her throat, tossing her head to send her hair rippling in a raven-black cascade down her back. “You are a worthy warrior. It would be a shame to have you die before your deal is completed. Your death nullifies the agreement, you understand?”

Wyll hesitated, glancing at the ash-covered stones.

“I ... No, I was not aware of that caveat,” he admitted, his lips daring to quirk just a little at the sound of her rather sweet laugh in response to his ignorance. “Then it appears I must stay alive until after the battle, even after Gazarath dies.”

“Out here, that will be a tall order for a man alone,” she mused, picking at some unseen splinter on her staff. “I think I will join you. It would be a shame to see your bargaining go to waste.”

His eyes narrowed, uncertain if he should trust her.

“And what is your price for this ... assistance?”

Her lips twisted into a dark smile that seemed more practised than true. 

“That, we can discuss once we are away from here,” she said, gesturing to the battlefield around them. “The Chasind will soon come out of their camps to paw over these bodies, and my si- someone will be soon at the tower nearby. They may attempt to prevent us.”

Wyll’s head tilted as he considered her for a long moment. There was something there, something in the way she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes, in the shift of her feet and the set of her shoulders ... she was running from something. She hadn’t intended to come across him, but their meeting gave her additional protection she had not expected to find. What could a witch of the wilds be running from?

In truth, what did it matter? She had saved his life, as he had saved hers, and both proven they could fight well together. He only needed to live at most a few days, and Alistair’s continued breath would be guaranteed. If he could deliver her from her pursuers in that time, all well and good.

“Very well,” he agreed, holding out a hand to her. “A witch and a Warden, it shall be. Wyll Ravengard, at your service.”

Long, slender fingers slid into the grasp of his gauntlet, squeezing just firmly enough that he felt it through the shake. Those deep, dark eyes flickered to his, limned with a strange sort of innocence he had not expected to find out here in this desolate place. 

“Tara,” she said in return. “My name is Tara.”

“Well, then, Tara .. shall we be going?” He flashed her a cocky grin, settling his shield on his back once more, hooked firmly over the travel pack he had snuck from the camp earlier in the day. 

“After you, Warden Ravengard,” he said, gesturing with a magnanimous sweep of her free hand. “I am your witch.”

As he turned to lead the way back to the path and turn their steps to the north, away from Ostagar and the Wilds, he couldn’t help a faint flicker of warm interest in his chest at those sweet, wicked little words.

My witch. Wouldn’t that be something?

[vigilskeep]

Wait, what briefing?

christ

[felassan]

Spacelab9 have revealed more details about the upcoming Dragon Age Vinyl box set. (It's a 70 track collection which will include songs from DA:O, DAII, DA:I, DLC and also some DA:I bard songs.)

I found this new info blurb about the cover art really interesting 👁️ (emphasis mine):

Deluxe package features all-original artwork by Dragon Age Concept Director Ramil Sunga and Lead UX Artist Danny Richardson, created exclusively for this album set. The beautifully detailed artwork presents a pictorial timeline following the lore of the Dragon Age series, beginning at the dawn of the Golden City, throughout the City's Fall and culminating in its re-emergence as the Black City, seat of the Old Gods. [source]

hello??? (the announcement blogpost for the vinyl contained the flavor text "From the land of Thedas, at the dawn of the Golden City".)

they also announced that the pre-sale for the box set was scheduled to begin April 27th (can't see it atm unless I'm missing it, maybe it's not yet started?) and that on the BioWare Gear Store it will begin on May 10th. each outlet will offer their own exclusive color variant of the vinyl.

lastly they also posted the full track listing (emphasis mine):

"DISC 1 SIDE A [DRAGON AGE ORIGINS]

1. DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS (2:49) 2. ELVES AT THE MERCY OF MAN (1:21) 3. RUINS OF OSTAGAR (1:18) 4. THE COMMON DWARF (1:24) 5. THE PARTY CAMP (0:44) 6. THE DALISH (1:18) 7. DARKSPAWN IN THE WILDS (1:13) 8. HUMAN NOBILITY (1:21) 9. URN OF SACRED ASHES (1:01) 10. JOIN THE GREY WARDENS (1:53) 11. BATTLE THE DARKSPAWN HORDES (1:05) 12. MAGES IN THEIR CHANTRY (2:01) 13. LELIANNA'S SONG (2:33)

DISC 1 SIDE B [DRAGON AGE ORIGINS]

1. THE CHANTRY'S HUBRIS (3:16) 2. THE NATURE OF THE BEAST (1:30) 3. TAVERN BRAWL (1:15) 4. THE DALISH ELVES ENCAMPMENT (1:18) 5. FERELDEN AT WAR (2:57) 6. KING EDRIN (1:32) 7. CHALLENGE AN ARCH DEMON (3:12) 8. THE CORONATION (1:03) 9. I AM THE ONE (HIGH FANTASY VERSION) (4:02)

DISC 2 SIDE A [DRAGON AGE II]

1. DRAGON AGE II MAIN THEME (2:03) 2. HAWKE FAMILY THEME (2:00) 3. QUNARI ON THE RISE (2:04) 4. LOVE SCENE (1:39) 5. VISCOUNT (1:29) 6. TAVERN MUSIC (2:11) 7. KIRKWALL ARRIVAL (5:13) 8. ROGUE HEART (3:12)

DISC 2 SIDE B [DRAGON AGE II]

1. JOURNEY TO DEEP FEAR (2:55) 2. MAGE PRIDE (4:03) 3. KIRKWALL TOWN ACT 2 EXPLORATION (2:05) 4. DARK DAWN (3:22) 5. FENRIS THEME (2:30) 6. NIGHT ATTACK AND VICTORY (1:56) 7. DESTINY OF LOVE (3:25)

DISC 3 SIDE A [DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION]

1. DRAGON AGE INQUISITION THEME (2:52) 2. THE WRATH OF HEAVEN (5:25) 3. ESCAPE FROM THE FADE (1:14) 4. CALLING THE INQUISITION (1:59) 5. IN HUSHED WHISPERS (4:49) 6. THE WESTERN APPROACH (2:07) 7. JOURNEY TO SKYHOLD (1:48)

DISC 3 SIDE B [DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION]

1. THE DAWN WILL COME (1:58) 2. ORLAIS THEME (2:44) 3. THE SCAR (0:56) 4. SIEGE OF ADAMANT (1:14) 5. WICKED EYES AND WICKED HEARTS (3:35) 6. THEDAS LOVE THEME (1:59) 7. CHAMPIONS OF THE JUST (3:55) 8. SACRIFICE (1:01) 9. RETURN TO SKYHOLD (2:13) 10. EPILOGUE (1:10)

DISC 4 SIDE A (BONUS DLC TRACKS)

1. I AM THE ONE (DARK FANTASY VERSION) [DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS] (4:10) 2. MAIN THEME [DAI DESCENT DLC] (2:58) 3. AFTERMATH [DAI DESCENT DLC] (1:29) 4. DARK SOLAS THEME [DAI TRESPASSER DLC] (3:01) 5. QUNARI ATMOSPHERE [DAI TRESPASSER DLC] (2:41) 6. LOST ELF THEME [DAI TRESPASSER DLC] (3:58) 7. D'READ KODA (1:08) [HIDDEN TRACK]

DISC 4 SIDE B (DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION - THE BARD SONGS)

1. ENCHANTERS (3:23) 2. GREY WARDEN (2:12) 3. I AM THE ONE (1:58) 4. ONCE WE WERE (2:10) 5. RISE (1:26) 6. SERA (1:45) 7. FALL OF THE MAGISTER (3:01) 8. SCOUT LACE HARDING (2:08) 9. THE SLIGHTEST ONES (2:28)" [source]

👁️ Hidden track - "D'Read Koda"? ^^ Koda like a coda? (of interest here is that the recent Mass Effect vinyl collection contained some previously unreleased and some rearranged/remastered music.)

[source]

[galedekarios]

i love all the da4 content you've been posting!! i recently got into the da series (in the middle of my first origins run) and wanted to see if you had any thoughts on dao/da2 were (if you played them at all) :-)

i'm so sorry it took some time to get to your message!

i wanted to thank you so much for sending it to me, tho. i see you in my notes often and you leave the nicest tags. (':

i actually do have a soft spot for dragon age as a series. baldur's gate 2 and its expansion throne of bhaal were my first video games. i played it very often and for a very long time. then i sort of fell out of love with video games for a long time because i couldn't find anything else like it.

completely by accident, years later, i found out about dragon age: origins and it drew me back in completely. the atmosphere, the storytelling, the characters, the music - it was so amazing. even the graphics back then were something that absolutely awed me because i want from this:

to suddenly this:

da2 and dai were the first games where i actively went through the pre-release hype and playing them on release day and actively involving myself in the fandom.

i love each of the three games for different reasons, but i do love them. i do have my favourite with inquisition, tho i do realise it's an unpopular opinion.

i'm trying to be spoiler-free because i don't know how far you've played at this point or how much you know. (':

i do love dao for its dark and gritty atmosphere. there are so many moments i remember very distinctly. the battle of ostagar, the first time discovering the broodmother and the lead up to it, fighting the archdemon, among many others. sadly, i never connected a lot with the companions, tho i do think they are well written, with morrigan, loghain and sten being stand-outs to me.

i love da2 for the companions and the smaller scale setting. i loved seeing how kirkwall changed over the years and i loved seeing how all of the companion were intrinsically entangled with and changed by the city. again, there are so many memorable moments here. the death of the hawke sibling, the mission to the deep roads, the ending. the companions' stories. fenris's backstory, isabela's betrayal, sebastian's family.

however, with da2 i was never able to create a hawke that i liked. i also didn't enjoy the fandom too much bc a lot of da2 fans were super critical and obnoxious in their distaste for dai, which i've already said happened to be my personal favourite.

inquisition is my absolute favourite though. i was able to create an inquisitor that i really liked, i loved many of the companions (vivienne, solas, cole, blackwall and cassandra come to mind), the different environments were really fun to explore to me, and i absolutely loved the chosen one trope in this case because the game turns it on its head.

anyhow, sorry for the long answer. i hope you are having fun with the series and i'm happy you're here for the da4 content too!

[shouldaspunastory]

Thank you @wolfs-dawn! @dadrunkwriting

Cadence Tabris (DA:O, Ostagar pre-battle, 472 words)

---------

It figures, Cadence thinks grimly as they listen to Duncan describes the ritual through which they will become wardens. If they happen to survive what drinking the blood of those vile creatures will do to them. When first they'd left the Alienage they'd thought perhaps... But it doesn't matter now. It was foolish to have thought a life of service to anything might be a pathway to freedom. Though, hopefully, their departure from the Alienage will at least spare the others from any wrath or retribution for Vaughn. Cadence knew their luck would run out eventually, they just hadn't counted on it being so soon.

They glance at Alistair where he stands illuminated by torchlight. The first person beside Shianni they have ever been able to share their pronouns. A life in the Alienage hasn't exactly made them trustful of many men, but Alistair didn't ask any questions. Took them at their word and not only used but made sure to subtly correct Cadence's fellow prospective wardens when they spoke about them. It might have been nice to have had more time, to get to know him better, even under such terrible circumstances, Cadence thinks recalling the warden's joke about the Darkspawn and Blight bringing people together.

Cadence watches as Daveth begins to spasm, choking for air before collapsing to the ground and feels their fists clench, their jaw setting with a click. Where Jory is fearful, Cadence feels anger. Daveth would have been an excellent warden. Where Jory seemed concerned with honor and the prestige of the order, Daveth spoke of sacrifice, of others before himself. As Duncan's blade plunges through Jory to protect the secrets of the Gray Wardens Cadence's eyes are drawn once more to Alistair. Is this the way of every joining, they think, searching his face for his thoughts on these events. Is this why the Warden's numbers are now so few? Cadence may not have warmed as much to Jory as Alistair or Daveth, but this whole affair seems so wasteful. If by some miracle they survive this ordeal, Cadence would like a word with someone about that.

Duncan approaches with the goblet reminding them of their commitment, but it's unnecessary. When they give their word, they keep it. If this is the price for their safe exodus from the Denerim, at least this death will come swifter than at the hands of the city guard, tortured and rotting away in a damp and sunless cell. Cadence accepts the goblet and drinks the foul contents, bracing themselves for what's to come. What follows next happens quickly, and in a haze, visions of a corrupted dragon, before their body and mind seem to reinorient and Cadence finds themselves blinking up at Duncan and Alistair. So, they think, slowly rising to their feet, live to die another day.

[luminous-jinx]

Currently working on a Solas × Original Female Character story where the OC does become the Inquisitor later on, but she knew Solas before everything happened... but what happened between them in the before??

I'm also working on an Albert Wesker × Original Female Character story that is pre-RE5. OC is mute and mainly communicates via sign language, but that doesn't stop Wesker from being able to understand her - he's a man of many talents, knowing sign language is one of them. OC isn't part of the RE world, something happened, and now she's found herself at the mercy of Wesker.

I'm thinking on ideas for other stories as well, one involving two OC characters that are supernatural reincarnations that find themselves in the world of Dragon age right before the Temple of Ashes explodes and another story involving three sisters that have become their D&D characters thrusted into Dragon Age, right before the Battle of Ostagar.

I'm hoping to post the first parts of the first two stories sometime in the next week or so, hopefully...

Being new to posting stuff, I'm hoping that they are enjoyable.

[breninarthur]

I tried to save a draft of this to edit on desktop, and tumblr decided to completely erase it from existence instead!

For @dadrunkwriting, @syrupwit sent me the prompt "Clover (safety, protection from evil)" from the Plantober 2022 list, for Kallian/Alistair or Kallian & Duncan.

So here's both!

In which Kallian lies dying in a field somewhere.

1,054 words. Positive ending.

❀ ❀ ❀

As Kallian lay coughing up blood in a field of weeds and wildflowers, all she could think about was how differently she'd expected her death to go.

The clanging of metal on corrupted metal still rang in her ears, but distant, as though in a faraway theatre she couldn't get into. She could hear the darkspawn's freakish war cries. She could hear her friends, but they were speaking some language she'd never learned.

Kallian thought she would go out in a blaze of glory. Loghain would cut her head off in front of jeering noblemen. The Archdemon would swallow her whole in its great maw. She would push someone out of the way at a crucial moment, and a horde of demons would rip her apart; the battle be remembered forever.

But this was no grand fight. There were no armies, no innocents to save. They had been attacked on the way to Denerim, taken by surprise, and Kallian had been stabbed unceremoniously.

Of all people, she thought of Nelaros. Did it mean something that she was dying in the same way, run through with a sword? She wondered if death had moved this slowly for him too.

Kallian heard a bark, and she almost laughed. She loved dogs. They were never officially allowed pets in the alienage, but that never stopped her from naming all the strays. It was nice that one had come to see her off.

There was a whine, much closer and clearer than anything else, and through the numbing pain, the blood, the tears; Kallian knew him.

"Ci–" she tried, but her voice was a sickening gurgle, and it hurt too much to try.

There was a puff of wind, and she forced her head to turn. Ciarth had plonked down next to her, whimpering as he looked at her with sad brown eyes. He'd placed a gentle paw on her arm. She wished she could feel it.

She wanted to say something, to tell him it was okay, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she dragged an armoured hand to scratch weakly at his cheek, and gave him a bloodstained smile.

As she did so, she noticed that between them; there was clover.

❀ ❀ ❀

"So, you can just... eat everything you find, basically?" Kallian asked, only half sarcastic as she frowned at the dandelions Duncan held.

He sighed.

"No. Remember what I told you about deathroot," he said with all the airs of a long-suffering teacher.

"Only the flowers!" Daveth piped up triumphantly.

"Never the flowers. Only the leaves," Kallian corrected, and waited for approval.

"Yes. And field mushrooms?" Duncan pressed with a raised eyebrow.

"Not the ones that smell funny," Kallian and Daveth intoned together.

A corner of his mouth twitched. It wasn't a smile exactly, but it was the closest they'd gotten from the Warden so far on their journey to Ostagar. She'd take it.

"What about this?" Kallian asked, pointing at the patches of emerald green that grew around them here and there.

Duncan followed her gaze, and bent to pick one of the little plants.

"Clover," he said, twirling it in his fingers. "Good to eat."

"That's it?" she prodded. Usually there was a cautionary tale, preparation details, or at least a pre-emptive apology for the taste.

"Yes," he said, before pausing. "In Rivain, some believe it protects you from evil."

He stared at it for a moment longer, seemingly lost in a memory. Kallian and Daveth traded a look. This was probably the most personal thing Duncan would ever say to them, which was saying something, really.

"We should get moving," Duncan suddenly continued, as though nothing had happened, tucking the clover into a pouch on his waist. Without waiting, he turned, and kept walking.

The recruits hesitated. Looked at each other again. And hastily plucked their own clover.

❀ ❀ ❀

Didn't do much good for them, Kallian thought, stirring another coughing laugh. Ciarth whined again.

Something was different. Stomping boots weren't so far away. Her blood felt it coming.

Suddenly or slowly, she didn't know anymore; Kallian was helpless at the feet of a hurlock. She couldn't move, and even if she could she suddenly felt as though there was no point. It was too late for her now.

She dimly registered the fact that Ciarth hadn't moved either. Strange. He normally gave his all to protect her, to protect any of them. So why had he come here just to watch her when their friends were still fighting?

Panic set in. She turned towards him again, looking for blood. Where was Wynne? Kallian couldn't reach her poultices. The hurlock would kill him right after her.

No, no, no.

The mabari had been through so much. A dead owner, the taint, the whole fucking Blight. And she'd put him there. Ciarth could have had a nice little retirement somewhere. Kate and Bevin's cuddly bodyguard. Roaming free with the Dalish. A study buddy for Dagna. Anywhere but here.

The darkspawn lifted its sword in slow motion.

She was going to die.

Just as the monster was about to plunge its blade into her heart, it disappeared from view.

Alistair had charged into it, shield-first, knocking it clean off its feet. With his show of strength, more darkspawn gathered, but Alistair was singularly focused on keeping them away. He barged and slashed, spun and shoved and kicked, stabbed and pummeled and protected. As usual, he was a force to be reckoned with.

Twelve hours or five minutes, it took however long it took. When he was done, he dropped to his knees next to her. He screamed something, and pressed his hands into her wound.

Kallian saw red robes in her narrowing peripheral vision, and leather too.

Clover. Fat lot of good that had ever done anyone.

No, she thought, as another pair of hands replaced Alistair's, bare and ice cold. She looked to Alistair, who hadn't moved too far away, trying to smile at her through his tears.

The familiar buzzing of Wynne's magic sung in her skin, and Morrigan's green light shone near Ciarth.

Alistair stroked her hair. He was speaking, but his words were still fuzzy. She laughed anyway, because he'd probably said something silly.

His autumn brown eyes were the last thing she saw before she passed out.

I've got my own clover.

[bumblewarden]

I want so bad to do an Oops All Origins for the worldstate of Mr Novhen Tabris, but it may end up just him, Amell, Brosca, and maybe Cousland

I've already sacrificed Aeducan for the drama. He and Brosca have too strong of a conflict between them, and i thought it'd be the most fun to make them mutually exclusive companions. If you try to keep them both in the party for long enough, eventually they fight and only the survivor will stay with you. Brosca, in this case. Yes, this had just happened to me in Baldur's Gate right before i came up with this. Xzar and Montaron had it coming. Why do you ask?

Surana and Mahariel might be next to get booted. Surana has already suffered from too many applicants to make herself stand out, but the reason they're both on the chopping block is that Novhen needs to feel isolated. After 20+ years in Denerim's alienage where he could only rely on other elves, he's now being ping ponged wildly between the wilderness and (usually non-elven) courts with his predominantly human party whose only other elf was hired to assassinate him. Even if he and Zevran have different relationships to being an elf (although there's definitely a degree to which Zevran is downplaying whatever relationship he does feel), it was absolutely a factor in Novhen's romancing him. For that part of the story to remain untouched, Novhen needs to feel isolated, and in general, his loneliness gives more to his story than it takes

Cousland is a maybe. I have a vague personality for her. Main issue with her is i don't like playing warriors but want her to be one. Second issue is Nathaniel needs Novhen to be Howe's killer, but it's too important for Cousland's story for her to not kill him. Novhen rightfully wants revenge for the purge, but it's her central arc. I have a comic draft where Novhen incapacitates him but lets her get the final blow. That would be the best compromise arc-wise, but then fucking Nathaniel (Disclaimer: love that guy) has to go and fuck it all up. It's just hard to make it narratively satisfying to keep them both on board. If i do kick her out, i'm thinking of having her show up in the dungeons somewhere

Yes, Ghilana exists, but a drawback of using many smaller fics without orbiting any central longfic is that it becomes difficult to include any OC whose not already based in one of the PC origins. Still, pre-quest, Ghilana is going to identify as Qunari before elven by a mile. Might also make him a later addition to help balance it out

That's not to say all my excluded Wardens will be totally shunted to the void. Aeducan gets a couple Deep Roads scenes during Paragon of Her Kind before Brosca on-screen murders him (good for her). Surana might briefly appear during Broken Circle or the Battles of Ostagar or Denerim, and she grew up with Novhen prior to her encirclement. The party might meet Clan Sabrae after Nature of the Beast, and Novhen would respect it if Mahariel wishes to die in the arms of their clan. If Cousland gets kicked next, i might have her and/or a male Cousland appear in the cells of the arl's estate of Fort Drakon after surviving the attack on their family's castle. I don't know if a non-Warden Cousland retains their status to vote in the Landsmeet on behalf of their family, but they can at least speak against Howe and Loghain

[hawkepockets]

Melantho questions! Was Melantho interested in/involved with Tamlen pre-mirror? What's Melatho's opinions on humans vs elves (and dwarves if applicable). Opinions on magic/mages/spirits/demons? I'm interested in learning these things as the story goes on but I'm wondering if you know anything upfront/that you want to share upfront.

ahh you read my mind, the first two were exactly what i was thinking about for her!! & #3 is a great question 🫶

☝️ yes, mela & tamlen were involved! they were each other’s best friends, worst puppy crushes, and first time. it was a match the clan really approved of too, and although their elders never deliberately put pressure on them to wed, mel & tamlen still felt it.

but as a couple, they didn’t quite work. tamlen would do anything for melantho. he was too pliable & sweet to keep a pilot flame of attraction lit between them. add in merrill, and now you’re cooking.

having her girl rival on one arm and her boy protector on the other kept mela challenged and interested. it wasn’t a mature, sexual poly relationship yet—they were all too young, and mostly just teased each other with kisses and fell asleep in a pile like kittens, but they might have been if not for the mirror.

marethari did not encourage all three of them bonding. merrill was her First, tamlen was paivel’s favorite student of lore, and melantho was ilen’s apprentice. if the trio were to follow in their mentors’ footsteps as adults, clan sabrae would have a keeper, hahren, and master craftsman that were romantically & sexually bonded, taking each others’ sides against the rest of the clan or turning on each other in the case of marriage troubles… an unpleasant & unstable concentration of power. no, far better to keep ambitious, magical merrill out of it. a future hahren & apprentice craftsman being sweet on each other was not much threat to anybody.

but if merrill had been there when the eluvian was found, maybe the girls could have held tamlen back from touching it—or maybe there just would have been that much more hunger and curiosity in the room, and one more body tainted by the mirror.

✌️ melantho HATES humans. i’ve seen some criticism of clan sabrae, and marethari & ashalle in particular (bc of their close involvement with mahariel but also, if we’re tbh, their being women) for withholding the truth about what happened to mahariel’s parents until they were grown, and i agree that was hurtful & contrived for shock value… but it did make me ask myself what if they’d been right to keep it secret?

so melantho was told, very young, that her parents had run afoul of the shemlen & been killed in a random, common act of human violence, and that wrenched, tore, and twisted at her from when she was a child. it changed the shape of her heart. and while everyone in sabrae has a healthy wariness/resentment of humans, mela’s intensity about it is alarming and out of line. it comes over her like a fever sometimes, killing her lively personality, lighting up her eyes, and making her hiss and spit at anyone who so much as sighs out loud about the clan needing to relocate so much. even her little sister leidy avoids her when she’s in that temper.

tamlen & melantho killed all three men who found the eluvian ruins, and duncan really did need to drag her kicking and screaming to ostagar. she’s mean and impertinent, assuming the worst of every shem she meets there right up to their king. and the night of her joining, before the battle, alistair caught her in the act of poisoning the soldiers’ cookpot with what was left of the darkspawn blood, and had to restrain her from setting loghain’s tent on fire… which he might soon come to regret.

she hasn’t met a dwarf yet, but all she’s heard about them, as inventors of enchanted items & berserker rage, makes them sound very impressive and strange.

✌️☝️ melantho knows magic is dangerous, but had never heard about the chantry’s dogma about it before meeting alistair & the tranquil at ostagar, and it completely takes her aback. she thinks of demons and possessed people like rabid animals—sick predators, something you come across on rare, unlucky occasions in the wilds, something to be mercy killed from a distance if possible but not approached. sure they’re frightening. no need to get idealogical about it. and she associates them with locations haunted by elven tragedies, not with mages.

merrill, leidy, and marethari are mages, and they’re precious to the clan, and to her. even fearmongering about blood magic and darkspawn magisters makes little impression on mel. her mages know what they’re doing, and it’s not the business of an ordinary hunter/crafter to judge their choice of spells. as for blackening the seat of the maker, creating darkspawn, locking each other up in towers and branding each other’s foreheads… well that all just seems like shemlen acting badly.

she may get more invested later ;-)

[azarland]

fuck it i’m making azriel a reaver / berserker instead of a champion / reaver

[ghostwise]

aloe, elfroot, and the flood. 2k words, pre-relationship zevran x mahariel

The Western forests of Ferelden were not like the forests he’d grown up with. Comprised of grassy lowlands parceled out by shemlen nobles, the Bannorn was opposite the Brecilian in every sense: domesticated and unfamiliar and no safer for the absence of possessed trees and haunted vales.

It was foreign to him.

Which was how he’d wound up here: miserably lost, resting on a fallen log while his legs ached. He’d been walking for hours.

There’d been a time, growing up, when these restless moods would take hold of him. He’d come to recognize their arrival by the pressure in his chest and the urge to cry at nothing. These moods needed to be quickly subdued or they’d stick like burrs—so he would run.

He would leave the safety of camp and flee into the woods, and keep going until the feeling passed. And it worked, most of the time.

Ah, but they’d never lasted so long before, had they? And Tamlen had always been there to catch up with him. To walk back together.

The thought brought another surge of hurt.

Months had passed and he still missed Tamlen sharply, urgently, as if he’d just lost him. He could barely remember the funeral, feverish with Blight as he had been. He longed to see him, ached for his steady comfort and friendly advice. He would know what to do. He always knew what to do.

But now Tamlen was dead. And those days were gone. And no one had told him how quick and violent their end would be.

Hamal forced a slow breath through his lungs.

Paralyzed by his own thoughts, he sat and waited in the shade.

 .

He’d expected Morrigan to find him, as she had that first night after Ostagar.

Freshly reeling from battle, he’d made a final desperate bid to return to his clan. At the time he’d imagined it was still possible to catch up to them—a foolish thought, he now realized—and she’d all but dragged him back to Alistair, where the young man’s wounded gaze had convinced him to stay.

(Ironically, she’d earned some of his trust back then. He appreciated her lack of pretense.)

It wasn’t Morrigan who found him, though.

Hamal kept his eyes fixed on an empty patch of grass, pretending not to notice. Even when the man moved toward him, he had reason enough to believe he wasn’t in danger; after all, Zevran had been given plenty of opportunities to kill him over the past few weeks. If he’d wanted to, he would’ve done so already.

Probably.

“Warden Mahariel!” Zevran greeted him cheerfully. “What a remarkable coincidence meeting you here!”

Hearing his words, Hamal raised a brow and looked up at him.

In the short time he’d known him, Hamal had formed a vague impression of Zevran in his mind. The man was a walking contradiction; a performer with rehearsed lines—but when no audience was watching he was quiet and subdued as a shade. He’d acclimated to their travels quickly and without complaint, all but vanishing into the daily routine, much like he’d always been there.

Suspicious. Deliberate. Brave. Hamal knew that the only reason he had spotted him was because the man had allowed it. That was only fair; after all, the only reason Zevran had found him was because he’d allowed himself to be found.

A fact he was already regretting. Zevran’s opening words felt hollow; his smile just another performance Hamal wasn’t interested in.

But if the other man was affected by his stubborn silence, he did not show it. In fact, he was encouraged, somehow, to come sit beside him—an act which startled him so much he nearly jumped in his seat.

Zevran froze for an instant, and then edged away, taking care to sit as far from him as possible.

“You are very sunburnt,” Zevran observed after a moment.

Hamal carefully touched his face. His skin was hot and painful. He hadn’t noticed until now.

Zevran hoisted a rucksack over his shoulder, dropping it onto the ground between them.

“No worries,” he said, pulling the drawstring to open it. “I’ve come prepared.”

He quickly produced a small jar of aloe and elfroot paste. His bag seemed to contain more; bandages, poultices, rations, blankets, all sorts of purposeful items. Creators! Had he expected to find him half-dead? The thought was overwhelming.

Hamal held up a hand as Zevran moved towards him.

“No-”

Again, Zevran paused. Setting the jar between them, he closed the pack and returned to his seat, from which he regarded him in silence.

“Sorry, I’m—I wasn’t expecting company,” Hamal explained.

Indeed, the word had come out sharp, a knee-jerk reaction. It was embarrassingly sincere. No, don’t touch me. No, don’t come near.

With a deep breath, he resigned himself and picked up the jar.

“Thank you.”

Zevran nodded. “You are very welcome.”

It struck Hamal that this was the first conversation they’d had alone since the day of the ambush—a piss-poor conversation so far, he had to admit. Far too aware of Zevran’s brown eyes taking him in, Hamal began applying the paste to his burns. He worked methodically, covering his cheekbones and forehead, his ears and even the part in his hair.

The scent reminded him of Ashalle. He remembered her dabbing the very same concoction on him as a child.

“That’s better, I imagine,” Zevran said gently, once Hamal had replaced the lid on the jar. “If I may ask… why did you come here?”

Hamal looked at him.

“You left without warning,” Zevran continued. “No food, no supplies, you are not even armed. This region, I understand, is embroiled in a civil war, not to mention a Blight. You are a man alone, and a Dalish elf at that. Forgive me,” he said very firmly, “Forgive me, but it is inviting all sorts of trouble, no?”

“It wasn’t my intention,” Hamal said, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to argue. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Was not feeling well?” Zevran asked.

“I felt…” Hamal let out a sigh, finding it impossible to explain. “I don’t know. I felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. I was crawling out of my skin. I just wanted to be alone. So…”

“You left,” Zevran said.

Hamal bent forward, hugging his knees, messy braids hanging low. After a moment he risked a glance at Zevran. The man was quiet, looking at him with both concern and curiosity. All around them, the sinking sun cast long and moody shadows, tinted deep blue.

“You came after me?” Hamal asked.

“I did not come here to make you do anything against your will,” Zevran said softly.

“What if I do not wish to go back?” Hamal asked. “What if I ask you to leave?”

“Then I suppose it’s just a question of what I should tell the others.” Zevran looked away. “But it’ll have to be good; both to ensure that no one comes looking for you, and to clear me of any suspicion.”

Hamal let out a laugh at that—short, bitter, but a laugh all the same.  He had not expected such a practical response. The sound surprised him as much as it did Zevran.

“No need,” Hamal said finally. “We should go back.”

“If you say so,” Zevran said with a smile. “May I suggest that we eat first? I am famished.”

Wrapped parcels of bread and jam appeared from his pack. Cheese and smoked fish, too, all wrapped in a plain cloth.

Hamal waited for Zevran to take a bite of everything—which he did openly, his every move obvious, as if reading his mind. Still unconvinced, Hamal picked up a portion of bread and held it out to him. Zevran took it from him slowly, and ate it with a knowing smile.

Alright.

Avoiding his eyes, Hamal took the next bite for himself.

Strange, that he would come to share a meal with a man who had just weeks ago tried to kill him. Life meandered through such lonely paths. But the food was welcome nourishment, and the fact that Zevran pursued no further conversation was also appreciated.

 .

He felt marginally better once they set off.

He had food in his belly and the sun had vanished below the horizon. To his surprise, Zevran had brought his bow and arrows along, and he felt far more secure with them in hand.

“Ah, thank you,” he said, accepting them with only a tinge of guilt. “Ma serannas.”

“¿De que?” Zevran replied.

Hamal looked at him, perplexed.

“You’re welcome,” Zevran clarified. “You share so much of your own tongue with us, I thought I’d return the favor.”

Hamal nodded, accepting the explanation.

“Besides,” Zevran continued with an indulgent smile, “it comforts me to speak it, though no one understands it here but me. I suppose it reminds me that my home is still out there: Over the mountains and past the sea, full of beautiful flowers and bothersome Antivans just like myself.”

“You miss it?” Hamal asked. He rubbed at his ears, annoyed at how the sunburn poultice had dried—green and chalky. He imagined he looked like a statue, all covered in moss.

“I do,” Zevran admitted. “I miss the warmth. Ferelden is much too cold for my sensibilities.”

“It is summer-time,” Hamal said after a moment’s thought.

“So people keep telling me!” Zevran let out an exaggerated sigh. “Believe it or not, this is like winter in Antiva. Particularly near the coast—that’s where I’m from, you see,” he said with a smile. “Antiva City. Crowded, humid, and not a speck of frost in sight. Ah, it is a glittering gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City…”

His voice took on a wistful edge, trailing off into memory.

The moment was so genuine that Hamal stopped mid-stride to look at him, knowing that Zevran was picturing vivid sights of home deep in his mind’s eye; looking with the heart at something other than the trees.

Then the look ended and those brown eyes snapped to him—wary and alert. Perhaps it had not been his intention to wander.

“Are you from anywhere comparable?” Zevran asked, changing the subject with a flourishing wave.

Hamal shook his head. “My people have no cities left,” he said.

“Yes, of course,” Zevran said. “The wandering life of the Dalish. Well then, if no hometown; what is your clan’s name?”

The question brought another sharp stab of loss. It left him a bit breathless before he could answer.

“Sabrae,” he said softly.

“What is it like?” Zevran pressed. “Where do you travel? How many people?”

Hamal frowned.

Though it seemed Zevran was trying to make conversation, perhaps even comfort him by giving him a chance to talk about his home, the deep shadow of suspicion quickly crept in.

“I don’t feel comfortable telling you.”

“Apologies.” Zevran inclined his head, holding a hand to his chest—an apologetic gesture that was almost a bow. “I overstepped. However, it does sound grand. Truly! I am jealous-”

“Fuck’s sake,” Hamal said before he could stop himself. From one moment to the next, he’d swung from deep sadness, to anger.

Zevran looked at him, surprised.

“Don’t do that,” Hamal told him, walking up beside him.  “Don’t… apologize, or bow, or tiptoe. And especially do not be jealous of me. You do not know me.”

He waited another moment, before faltering under Zevran’s troubled stare and walking away.

“Well,” Zevran called after him. “That matter can be remedied.”

He kept walking. What was he thinking, asking all sorts of questions without knowing a single thing about him?

Hamal thought about it, and had just decided he did not feel bad about snapping at Zevran, when an unfamiliar sound boomed across the valley.

They both looked around for the source of the noise.

“What is that?” Hamal asked.

The sound grew and strengthened into a roar that filled the air. To his ears, it sounded almost like a distant rockslide, but that didn’t seem right either…

“We need to find higher ground,” Zevran said suddenly. “Quickly.”

Without waiting he turned and headed for the nearest hill. Hamal followed him, his already frayed nerves flooding his system with adrenaline, putting words out of his reach.

Even once they’d climbed high enough to see the flooding, he could think of nothing to say.

The sight was peculiar to him. Were it not for the full moon, they wouldn’t have been able to see the floodwaters at all.

Water poured out into the valley. He had no idea where so much water had come from, or if they were in danger, or what had occurred. The water was distant enough to be no immediate threat to them, but it stretched out in the direction they had been heading, and seemed to be rising.

“A dam burst…” Zevran said, then he made a sharp intake of breath. “There is a village there! I am sure of it. I passed near it while looking for you.”

Hamal sank to his knees. Zevran’s words gripped him with a cold horror before he even realized he was on the ground.

The night filled to the brim with the sound of rushing water and the distant cry of birds fleeing to the starry skies. Beside him, Zevran’s breathing, quick and shallow.

All he could think was all those people, all those people—and a resurgence of his own grief, and Zevran’s lack of home—and the vague, yet certain, sense that it was not just his world that had become undone, but the entire world at large that was coming to an end.

[shannaraisles]

March Madness - Day 3

Playful

“There now, Ser Jory, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Alistair was saying as he lead the group of soon-to-be Wardens back through the stockade and into the royal camp.

“We could have been killed,” Jory objected, earning himself a derisory look from Daveth, who seemed to have got over his terror of a pair of women in the wilds admirably fast.

Dermot walked behind them, lost in thought. There had been something in the way the old woman looked at him; a kind of respect, almost pitying, as though she knew something of his future that he could not possibly imagine at this point in time. And the younger, Morrigan ... He swallowed, feeling his ears burning. He hadn’t ever met a lady who wore so little with so much confidence before. He hadn’t known where to look, and he was sure she had been laughing at him. Still, it was unlikely he was ever going to see either of them again, so perhaps lingering on those memories served nothing.

“Dermot!”

His head snapped up at the sound of that familiar voice, ignoring the suddenly on-guard attitude of his companions to let out a relieved whoop of his own and bolt forward, barrelling into the speedily advancing form of his little brother with a heavy thump. The two of them shared a laugh laced with relief and sadness, gripping tight for a long moment before stepping back. One look was all it took for Bryland to know that Elinar had not been wrong in her assessment of the situation.

“Trust you to go for the chance to be a hero,” the younger man declared, chuckling as he prodded his elder brother’s side. “Elly’s green with envy.”

Dermot’s smile - so rare most times - had blossomed on seeing his little brother safe and well, on being certain that the two people he loved most in all the world were currently alive and hale, and would be looking out for one another in the days and weeks to come.

“Well, I couldn’t let you take all the glory, could I?” he countered, squeezing Bryland’s shoulder a little harder than was entirely necessary.

There were so many words to say, so many condolences and heartaches and pains, and yet neither one of them would acknowledge that. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. If this was to be another parting, it would be done with warmth and smiles, and the hope that there would be a reunion in the times to come.

“What glory?” Bryland complained lightly. “Look at me - I’m sitting here in safety because apparently I’m not sensible enough to be trusted on a scouting mission.”

“He’s not wrong,” Dermot said, the tease coming easily to his lips even as his smile faded from his face once more. That wasn’t to say his eyes weren’t smiling, though - his close siblings knew his expressions better than anyone.

Bryland snorted with laughter, slapping his brother’s arm once again.

“I’ll get you for that one,” he threatened, grinning as Dermot rolled his eyes.

“I’d like to see you try,” the elder countered, almost cheerful despite everything that had brought them here. “It’s not just me anymore, you know.”

“I’d heard.” Bryland glanced over Dermot’s shoulder, to where Alistair, Jory, and Daveth were watching this exchange with discernible surprise. He nudged his brother. “So you’re going to be ... warden off evil, huh?”

Dermot closed his eyes, his lips twitching at the sound of Alistair’s sudden bark of laughter in response to Bryland’s truly terrible pun. He patted his little brother companionably.

“Say that again, and I’ll put you in your ... grey-ve.”

Bryland let out a guffaw of laughter, delighted to be teased back by his usually quiet and stern elder sibling. Dermot found himself smiling again, dismissing the ache that wanted to be shared. Now was not the time. Let Bryland remember him smiling and making terrible jokes. It was better than remembering him in sorrow.

[vigilskeep]

harker do you have any idea when the fifth blight starts and ends? like it’s in 9:31 or smth but like… what month?

okay, so, forewarning, the dates we know are a bit of a mess.

we know for sure that the fifth blight starts and the battle of ostagar takes place in 9:30 dragon, and that the blight ends in 9:31 dragon.

we also know that by the end of the six months between dao and awakening, it’s still 9:31, and i actually just found out that we have a very precise date: if you execute nathaniel, there’s apparently a line of formal sentencing which states it is “the seventeenth of ferventis”. ferventis/justinian is june. the weather is a bit cheerless for june, but i suppose the climate is still recovering from the blight and the locations are, like, the storm coast and the blackmarsh. the wending wood is june-ish enough. if we agree that the archdemon is slain six months prior as the game states, but it must have been in 9:31, then the fifth blight ended and the archdemon was slain in wintermarch/veremensis, which is january. what a hideous time of year for medieval warfare.

in the dwarf noble origin, a codex entry featuring the journal entries of trian aeducan (who dies during the origin, pre-ostagar), has dates through ferventis, going right up to the events of the origin. which would place the fifth blight as the 6-7 months from june/justinian 9:30 to january/wintermarch 9:31. is that fairly reasonable? seems fairly reasonable to me

the reasons you might take that with a grain of salt are firstly that wynne has dialogue during the game referencing it being “almost a year” since a mage warden left the tower, although i think we can discard this because it can literally trigger at any point in the game once she’s recruited, making it sometimes baffling. secondly, a complete dwarven pregnancy takes place between the dwarven origins and a dwarf warden’s return to orzammar (brosca’s nephew, or potentially a male aeducan’s son), not to mention oghren manages to have a child in the six months between dao and awakening. they clearly handwaved this a bit, and i think it’s fair to brush it aside with small hc timeline edits if you have a dwarf warden, or the suggestion that dwarves have shorter pregnancies than humans, which is a nice bit of fantasy variation to throw in there

but shoutout to the implication that doing orzammar last is most amenable to canon and that the warden had to cross gherlen’s pass to orzammar and back in the thick of a fereldan winter, because that’s horrific

[felassan]

A few more snippets of interest and insight from Mark Darrah, from an older Mark Darrah on Games YouTube video where he was livestreaming playing Dragon Age: Origins some months ago -

[when Cailan and Duncan die] Chat asked "Is there a lot of storyboarding for cutscenes like this?". Mark said "BioWare does a lot more storyboarding now than they used to. There would have been a storyboard for this though".

[source]

Other snippets of interest:

[when Daveth and Jory are standing there in underwear before they die, so their gear could be sold] "I think it was a big improvement in technology when we realized we could leave clothes on people when you took their armor off"

"I'm used to the game I'm playing autosaving on every area transition, I'm spoiled by modern game design. DA:O doesn't have this. It also doesn't have auto-rotating save slots, which feels awful"

Chat asked "In the Russian localization Morrigan speaks literally in verse, in a kind of Shakespearean manner. Is that what was intended in the original?" Mark replied "I don't think the verse was on purpose no"

"The Battle of Ostagar cinematic cutscene took a long time to create." "Pretty sure it is pre-rendered because there is no way this is running on a PC [?] at the time, but I can't remember for sure"

[source]

(pls note that in places there is a bit of paraphrasing of the info, the best source is always the primary source with full quotes in their original context)

[ninapedia]

woof this project took longer than intended but here is my number one Canon Hero of Ferelden - Viera Surana - in all various stages and looks throughout the Dragon Age series. some notes under the cut.

Origin - Post Harrowing but Pre-Recruitment. In the time line I’ve built out she would have about a week form her Harrowing to leaving the Circle. Not much would change pre-Harrowing, only her robes would be a little less fancy. Taffeta fabric was the big inspo for this one.

Blight - Post Joining and Ostagar to about Pre-Orzammar. Biggest changes are her hair cut and stave upgrade. Pretty standard Warden Mage armor. I forwent the high collar cause I thought it looked goofy with the food.

Landsmeet - Also the armor she has by the time the Battle Of Denerim rolls around. Lots of changes to accommodate her new more hands-on fighting style (Arcane Warrior + Shapeshifter). She’s acting as Warden-Commander here for political points. Zev pierced her ears.

Awakening - Specifically as Arlessa of Amaranthine. More noble than warrior here even though she’s still a Warden first. Velvet was the big fabric inspo for her dress. The boots are Antivan.

DAII - Joining Zev’s Crusade post-Witch Hunt according to his Codex Entry in DAII. Idk if she’s fall under his moniker of the Black Shadow or hold onto her own as the Dark Wolf.

Pre-Inquisition - Before they run off to search for the Cure, I like to think Viera and Zevran get to spend some time in domestic bliss in Rivain. The ‘belt’ around her waist is the fabric from her Warden Cloak, repurposed and the necklaces are the same ones she’d be wearing as an Arlessa: a dalish piece carved from bone passed down from her mother, and half of a Dragon’s Tooth, given to her by Sten.

Halamsharal - IDK if Viera would ever wind up there, maybe Celene invites her once Leliana becomes Divine to impress her or something IDK. I just wanted to draw Viera in a fun dress. Velvet roses + mask, as a rabbit because Political Statement of elves being called rabbits, and then the beaded ‘blood’ directly inspired by The Blonds and Alexander McQueen.

Inquisition - AKA Search for the Cure. A lot of the outfit is just re-used pieces from the other ones. Like the leggings from her DAII look, heavily modified dress/blouse from the Pre-Inquisition look and the baby k’tan/wrap/sarong from the came Grey Warden cloak that became her belt in that Pre-Inquisition look. The ‘leather’ on her corset and hooded/caplet thing are all phoenix scales (like, based off the DAI color/crafting system). Also... baby Elial.

Post-Trespassers - Cured from the Calling and finally ready to live the rest of her life with Zevran and their daughter. Lots of re-used pieces on this one as well: boots, pants and accessories. Phoenix scales for her bracers and corset. Also toddler Elial.

I probably won’t do this for any of my other characters because it took too longer but i may do simpler ones.

[notebooks-and-laptops]

Rec'ing this mod! I just tried it and it's AMAZING, especially for Alistair!romancers. Includes a full new scene where Alistair crawls through his own blood to your dying body. Its...a lot but its VERY good. It doesn't feel out of place at all!