#urien deere

[fllagellant]

I FIGURED IT OUT . Urien is his white man name he was forced to use from the Alliance . his actual name is Pisaañdlii , Michif for Dandelion.

I am so smart

Dusting off my beloved ocs and get hit with the strongest desire to rename . Warg

[reikiajakoiranruohoja]

Veilguard spoilers

I am so happy Dragon Age gets its own Urien Rakarth and it is the at first seemingly nice Ghilan'nain. Not only does she fit the mad scientist trope but also the Not Deer trope. And I mean, what better way to depict the evil of the Evanuris than their resident mad scientist.

[askechourienblog]

Want to mak a fusion with one of me baby ? ~ I'm sure Rom would'nt say no~

Oh hello kame XD been a long time haha !

This is Urien and Rom fusion , they may look normal but there are stronger than you though , he has more floating shields on his sides

has a third blue eye ( blue eyes ) , markings , floating shields , and triangle design from urien ..

antler , clothing design , weapon choice , hair and fluffy arm from rommy boi .

Hope you like the design I might color them .

Oh and a little doodle about there personality

i have troubles of the antlers XD but I love them , I like deer's XD .

[crackspinewornpages]

A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court 21/46 -Mark Twain

16

Castles are not a nice place to stay (well yeah they were built for protection first) and you discredited a knight’s story ninety-seven percent, the sensible thing to do is find out as much about a castle before approaching. (could be the Spiral Castle) He sees a horseman advertising soap one of his ideas he implemented on how to introduce rudimentary cleanliness among the nobility that would trickle down. (people like to stay clean the nobility might not have taken daily showers but they did have soap) His next plan is education, then freedom and the Church would crumble, “It being my conviction that any Established Church is an established crime, an established slave-pen,”p.102 Due to his soap missionaries what started with two workers quickly grew to fifteen running twenty-four hours to Arthur and Launcelot’s complaining.

This knight La Cote told them this was Morgan le Fay’s castle who was King Arthur’s sister and wife of Urien. La Cote was depressed in hid failure in the campaign, he tried to wash a hermit who then died, but Hank assured him they’d have victory. They were let in the castle and Hank knew Morgan by her reputation not expecting anything pleasant, she was believed to be a sorceress and was full of malice. “All her history was black with crime; and among her crimes murder was common.”p.104 but she was young and beautiful. (what did you expect her to look like)

In the castle he met King Urien and his son Uwaine, who he was curious of from Sandy’s story. Morgan had them seated and asked Hank questions and Hank started to think the rumors were false, then a young page tripped and fell against her knee and she immediately stabbed him to death and he was quickly disposed of. Morgan acts like nothing happened and ordered Hank and Sandy to the dungeons when he accidentally mentions her brother, who she hates. (I just found the last season and that whole plotline of Merlin boring) Sandy asks if they want their own destruction since Hank is The Boss. Morgan says she foresaw him coming and wanted to surprise him to display his art like her guards bursting into fire.

17

The whole spectacle was halted when it was time for prayer service, “I will say this much for nobility: that, tyrannical, murderous, rapacious, and morally rotten as they were, they were deeply and enthusiastically religious.” p.107 (politicians really haven’t changed) The Church was so intrinsic with everyone’s lives he wondered what the country would be without it. (functioning) After prayers there was dinner in the banquet hall and the festivities and food lasted until morning. As the priest is about to give blessing an old woman declares the curse of blood on Morgan since she killed her grandson. Morgan orders her to the stake but Hank has Sandy warn them he’ll destroy the castle. Morgan orders it off and everyone else rushes out.

Morgan was so afraid Hank actually felt sorry for her, (she stabbed a kid to death a few hours ago let her squirm) so he had the band play, they did so badly he allowed her to hang them. (dude wtf) She relaxes from this and full of wine she began to talk and Hank had no choice but to stay and listen until he hears a shriek from beneath the castle that makes her smile. She takes him to the dungeons where prisoners are tortured and he tells her anonymous tips aren't enough to sentence but it’s useless to argue with her. She showed him the man being tortured on the rack and in horror he convinces her to let him speak to the prisoner alone.

Alone Hank releases the prisoner from the rack and puts him on a bed and his wife was relieved to care for him. The man knows Hank but still won’t speak his side and his wife begs Hank believing he’ll die. Hank says he won’t and she explodes in joy as her husband refused to talk unless promised that. He did kill the deer but to confess would bring him a quick death but everything would be taken from his family and Hank decides to take them both to the Factory.

18

Hank sent the couple home and wanted to rack the executioner not for doing his job but for making the woman watch. The priests herd and were happy to do it, but they weren’t all that bad, “episodes that showed not all priests were frauds and self-seekers, but that many, even the great majority,” - “and devoted to that alleviation of human troubles and sufferings.”p.115 They must have a religion but his idea was to have it in forty sects and functioning like the states do, “and an Established Church is only a political machine; it was better scattered but his opinion wasn’t worth more than the Pope’s or any other.”p.115

But Hank wouldn’t have the man racked up so put him as the leader of the band despite begging. Morgan was outraged by the result and he tried and failed to get her to see extenuating circumstances so she just sulked. “We have no thoughts of our own, no opinions of our own; they are transmitted to us, trained into us.”p.116 Morgan had good training for the time (like Elizabeth Bathory) but from a view centuries later it made her an ass. (no made her a psychopathic sadistic serial killer) It was still generous to pay for the boy she killed but Hank still thought of the grandmother, but he still complimented her for it and meant to hang her for it one day if he lived.

He had enough of the castle and wanted to leave but his conscious wouldn’t let him and he had to do something before he left. The king was useless now and only Morgan had power, so he lied about inspecting the country’s jails to see her prisoners. She consented and the guards showed him the cells, a newlywed couple was there for nine years and neither knows if the other is alive. Hank released them to their friends and if the lord had a problem with it, he would make sure he didn’t. Forty-seven prisoners were freed, he only left one because he destroyed a public well and would allow Morgan to hang him. (again dude the fuck) Most of them were only there out of spite, one from a remark, “He said he believed that if you were to strip the nation naked and send a stranger through the crowd, he couldn’t tell the king from a quack doctor,”p.122 (that’s true today try and tell the difference from a CEO and Starbucks employee) he sent him to the Factory.

Another was here for twenty-two years, leaving behind a wife and five children. With only a slit for a window to watch the comings and goings of the town and five funeral processions and tortured wondering if he only had a wife or child left. Hank took him to his home and none of his family were dead. Morgan had tortured him with dread for years, just for saying she had red hair, according to social status, her hair is auburn. (in the illustration her hair is straight up pumpkin orange) Five others were there for so long their offenses forgotten, even their names, one thing known was none of them had seen the sun in thirty-five years. The king and queen had inherited them never thought to free them. (as you can see from this chapter law and prisons haven’t changed much either)

19

The next morning, he and Sandy were on the road again, her jaws were finally getting tired but she continued Sir Marhaus’s story. Marhaus rode with the damsel when they came to the court of a duke and in the morning the duke and his six sons fought Marhaus until the duke yielded. It was the duke and his six sones they saw on the rode a few days ago and they were sent to Arthur’s court like Marhaus said they would. Hank declares knight-errantry worse than pork, (I have the same low opinions on the meat) if the market breaks, pork’s left and someone benefits, but what does a knight leave besides corpses. He plans to bring a good reputation to Arthur’s court and in his talks finally stops Sandy’s mouth when he asks her age.

20

They travel miles to see another knight advertising tooth paste, Sir Madok, he wasn’t in a good mood as he was in a feud with the stove-polish (still working on the stoves) Sir Ossaise because of a tournament. Madok refused to rest until he’d settles it as Ossaise told him there were some people a ways off, Montaine went and found the people had no teeth.  

Further on their travels Hank and Sandy found another prisoner reuniting with his family after fifty years. Hank found it curious enough to note they weren't angry at their sufferings. “Their entire being was reduced to a monotonous dead level of patience, resignation, dumb uncomplaining acceptance of whatever might befall them in this life.”p.130 Hank wished he took another rode as it brought up the fact people didn’t achieve freedom from talks, to succeed must be in blood. “If history teaches anything, it teaches that. What this folk needed, then, was a Reign of Terror and a guillotine,”p.130 (well my generation is already shouting eat the rich and bring back the guillotine)

Two days later they neared the ogre castle and Hank remembered the purpose of the quest. They creeped in the bushes as Sandy pointed out a pigsty and she believes it’s an enchantment to him, he knew it would waste time to argue so he played along.  He had Sandy stay in the bushes and talked to the swine herds and bought all the pigs for sixteen pennies, just in time as the Church would’ve come by soon for taxes and taken them all. Last year he and his wife watched as they left the baby with nothing to feed it. Hank had similar happen in his time period’s church, “which was supposed by many to have changed its nature when it changed its disguise.”p.133 He had the men go and Sandy came who embraced the pigs with joy embarrassing him and they drove the pigs ten troublesome miles to a castle which of course housed them.

NEXT

[mannazandwyrd]

Huge thanks to my friend @lokasae for grabbing this from their university library (posting with permission)(the Evans citation is in the first part of the notes):

G 458 = J Lloyd Jones. *Geirfa Barddoniaeth Gymraeg* (Caerdydd 1931-)

(The original ms has dots to mark line breaks in the poem and no punctuation, hence the translators arguing about sentence structure as well as word meaning.)

So to sum up, “yanyant.Aceilon” in the original manuscript is being transcribed “y anyant ac eilon” and translated to “in poets/bards/minstrels with deer/stags”… but also, if (big if) Aceilon is a mythic name, could be Taliesin saying “great is his(Urien’s) delight in his bard Aceilon” which would be entirely consistent with both the poet’s allusion-heavy style and how Taliesin boasts about what a great poet he is all the dang time.

Also, “Ac eilon” = “with deer/stag”. Which, if (big if) the name Aceilon reflected his properties, would align with Loki-as-hunter or possibly Loki-with-antlers (a horned god, or more likely a shamanic figure using a horned headdress, which is consistent with Taliesin’s shamanic depictions of bards and poets as channellers of divine truth).

Another friend has Marged Haycock’s translation coming through interlibrary loan. Her line-by-line analysis may be identical to Ifoe’s for this part of Yspiel Taliesin.

To prove that’s what Taliesin (or the court poet performing/writing in his guise/persona) is saying we’d need other extant evidence of a mythic bard-deity Aceilon though. I will follow up on what we might look for in a separate post.

I found something interesting night before last:

What is Aceilon, the possible lost name of Loki, doing in a 14th century Middle Welsh manuscript of a 6th-ish century praise poem? What’s my dang pendulum-dowsing UPG that I attempted linguistic analysis of doing in actual ink on vellum?

To figure that out I needed to dig a tiny bit. This is Yspeil Taliesin, leaves 62-63 or poem XXXVII in Llyfr Taliesin, which you can view digitally at the National Library of Wales’ website (link below). It’s one of several praise poems to Urien of Rheged, part of the earliest group of works in the collection, based on historical and linguistic evidence - scholars seem to think they were composed in Old Welsh or Common Brittonic and transmitted orally for awhile before scribes began copying and recopying it, with updates to language and accumulated transcription errors prior to the version that survived. It may have been composed by a historical poet Taliesin (who was later mythologized) or by a court bard using Taliesin as a persona. Lewis and Williams (2019) call this poem “a difficult text”, and note in their book introduction that allusions to mythology, historical events, and places can be very difficult for modern translators because so much early medieval information has been lost.

Here’s a terrible translation using Google Translate set to modern Welsh-to-English to help us pull the right part of the poem. Green highlights are untranslatable words.

By the time of Evans (1910), despite the wonky OCR in the first pic and my viewing it as a single word, Aceilon is being transcribed with a space in it, as ‘Ac eilon’ (ac meaning with). It was likely also treated this way for the public domain translation by Skene (1858) that’s available on the web. It isn’t considered up to scholarly standards, but here’s the same section:

Here is the same passage cited by Stookes (1954):

Here’s the same bit in Lewis & Williams’ (2019) translation:

I’ve not got my grubby paws on the recommended line-by-line analysis by Haycock (2007) yet, which may yield more insight. But it looks as though translators, not seeing Aceilon as a familiar word, divided it then pulled in the bard/poet/musician meaning, which traces to that proto-Indo-European root word that also survives in Gaelic ‘ceilidh’. There’s a lot of diversity in the translations, so it’s likely still being debated.

It might be that, if it’s indeed a single word here, Aceilon was being used as an allusion to a mythical court poet (Loki and Bragi both possibly being bards in Odin’s court).

References:

J. G. Evans (1910) text of the Book of Taliesin

National Library of Wales’s digital images of Peniarth MS 2 (Llyfr Taliesin)

W.F. Skene (1858) translation via Ancient Texts

S. Stookes ‘Before the Conquest’ Music & Letters, Vol. 35, No. 4 (Oct., 1954), pp. 287-293

Gwyneth Lewis and Rowan Williams (2019). The Book of Taliesin: Poems of Warfare and Praise in an Enchanted Britain. London: Penguin Classics - available on Kindle.

Wikipedia’s “Book of Taliesin” article

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 2

The winter of 9:31 Dragon draws to a bitter close. Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir, hero of the people, has revealed a string of secret letters between King Cailan and Empress Celene of Orlais. The specifics are unclear, but suspicion of Orlesians run deep, and there are always those willing to take advantage of political scandal. Declaring the king unfit to rule, Loghain has retreated to his southern stronghold in Gwaren, with Queen Anora by his side. Fear and greed threaten to tear Ferelden apart. In Denerim, Cailan busies himself with maps and battle plans, hoping to stem the tide of blood before it can start. In the Arling of Edgehall, King Maric’s bastard son fights against the rebels flocking to the traitor’s banner, determined to free himself from the shadow of his royal blood. And in Highever, Rosslyn Cousland, bitter at being left behind, watches as her father and brother ride to war, unaware of the betrayal lurking in the smile of their closest friend.

Words: 2561 Chapter Rating: Everyone CW: None Chapter summary: Cailan receives word of Loghain’s activities, and plans a counter-attack. Chapter pairings: CailanxAnora, sort of Banner art by me :) Chapter 1 on AO3 This chapter on AO3

Fourteenth day of Wintermarch, 9:32 Dragon

A sheen of ice crusted on the boots of the messenger striding from the servants’ wing of the palace to the long gallery that served as King Cailan’s war room. The trail of slushy puddles left in her wake attested to the ferocity of the blizzard outside, but though the stone walls beat back the wind, nothing could stop the ravenous cold of midwinter from seeping through the cracks, and the messenger’s blazon stayed hidden beneath layers of thick bear fur.

“Oi!”

The clack of crossed polearms halted the messenger in her tracks, one hand jerked to the weatherproofed satchel at her hip in an instinctive move to keep it safe. The two men flanking the door eyed her with ill-disguised disdain.

“I have an urgent message for His Majesty,” she barked through her scarf. “Let me through immediately.”

“The King’s in council,” one of the guards huffed. “Nobody’s allowed in.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

Before either of them could move, she ducked below their weapons and threw her weight against the door. It gave with a yawn of cold-bitten hinges and swung freely until, groaning, the weight of the oak dragged the outer edge down to rest against the floor. The messenger paid it no mind, intent instead on the group of nobles at the far end of the room. An elderly mabari lifted its head from its paws, growling, but its teeth were worn down and the cold worsened the swelling in its joints. It posed no threat, at least compared to the members of the royal guard lurking in the shadowed recesses of the hall, their hands all but fastened to their sword hilts in readiness to defend their charge.

“Your Majesty,” she intoned, dropping to one knee before the gathering. The scrutiny of so many arls and banns itched at her skin worse than the blood was slowly returning to her frozen extremities. They flanked the king, their scowls looming above thick, rich pelts, their hands tight around the hilts of their swords, sombre with the prospect of war. Next to the stoic Leonas Bryland and the steel of Bann Elara, one face was most noticeable by its absence – the reason for the meeting.

King Cailan slipped to the front of the group, an easy smile on his face that jarred with the atmosphere in the room. “At ease, ser,” he directed. “What news do you bring?” His eyes held the eager light of a hound that’s scented a deer. He did not see the woman standing before him, but the chance she might offer for action.

Ever since Loghain had stormed out of the First Day Landsmeet, the court had been in uproar. The accusations he levelled at Cailan – that he was conspiring with empress Celene, that he planned to divorce Queen Anora in favour of a younger woman who might give him an heir, that he would sell the hard-won freedoms of his people for foreign comforts – had stirred old fears among those who remembered the occupation, and the unrest had rippled outwards in the fortnight since. In peacetime, nobody had questioned the King’s abilities or his right to rule, but Loghain was a respected general, and had become a shrewd politician in the years since River Dane. His impassioned words had plucked at all the right strings to draw out murmurs that questioned Cailan’s competency. After all, everyone knew Anora was the real power behind the throne. Maric’s son or not, an untested king was a liability to nobles who had already lost everything to the Orlesians once before.

“I am sent from Edgehall, Your Majesty,” the messenger said. “The fighting there grows worse. The attacks are open, and Arl Fergus is… concerned by the presence of chevaliers within Fereldan territory.” She unstoppered her letter case with a faint pop, relieved to find that the missive within had survived the journey unscathed.

“I authorised the chevaliers into Gherlen’s Pass because the bandits were targeting Orlesian citizens,” Cailan replied in a wounded tone as he took the paper from her.

“Arl Fergus understands, Your Majesty, but the lands around Edgehall saw the worst of the Occupation. He believes that the growing numbers of bandits in the area are a result of people taking up arms against the Orlesian forces specifically.”

Arl Urien cleared his throat when the King’s frown deepened. “What says the letter, Your Majesty?”

“Attacks are coming daily, and Arl Fergus has heard of a large band heading for Ridderby.” Cailan swallowed. The edges of the paper crinkled in his fingers. “The soldiers are marching under the golden Drake of Gwaren.”

Cries of protest erupted around the war table. Voices lanced across each other, and the echoes took flight like startled pigeons until Arl Eamon, the only person not to raise his voice, banged his gauntleted fist on the table and called for order.

“He dares,” snarled Bann Elara. “The man goes too far.”

“Peace,” Eamon snapped, his attention not on Elara but on Cailan’s furrowed brow and hunched shoulders. “We will deal with this. First, it would be prudent to let go the one who brought us this news – give her a chance to warm up.” This last was said with a smile, but his eyes remained calculating as they fixed on the messenger. He didn’t want her to overhear what came next.

Dropping her gaze, the messenger bowed and stepped as smartly out of the room as her half-thawed limbs would allow, grateful for the excuse to remove herself from the room. She had heard stories of what agitated nobles did to those who brought them bad news, and though she doubted Cailan capable of such malice, high-born men were not like ordinary people. Besides, she had spotted Scytha in one of the lower corridors on her way into the main floor of the palace keep – if she hurried she might be able to convince the woman to part with a dram or two of the Blackrock whiskey left over from the King’s birthday.

With the messenger gone, the nobles once more focussed their attention around the war table. Cailan stood over the maps and the dropped letter, his weight pressed through his knuckles and his mouth pulled down at the corners as Bryland and the others drew closer, alert and ready to carry out whatever task the king commanded of them. Outside, the gale howled on, louder now for the expectant silence hanging within.

“I never thought Loghain would be capable of this,” Cailan eventually bit out. He lifted his head to meet the expectant looks of his advisors, and the low candlelight left shadows in the fatigued hollows of his eyes. “These bandits are attacking villages now, in his name. People are getting hurt. We must ride out at once before this insanity spreads and the peace my father worked so hard for is entirely shattered. You there!” he called to the closest of the royal guard. “Fetch my masters of horse, arms, and kennels, and tell them to prepare for a war march.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Wait.” It was Eamon who spoke. He had laid a hand on his nephew’s arm, an action that in one less forgiving than Cailan might have earned a harsh rebuke. “Consider carefully, Your Majesty. It is the middle of winter. No matter how well prepared, soldiers cannot march clear across a country in a blizzard. A third would be lost to the cold before the battlefield was ever reached, and Loghain knows this. Whether the bandits are acting under his express orders or simply by his leave, his intent is clearly to draw you out beyond the safety of Denerim.”

Cailan frowned and straightened. “Uncle, are you suggesting that I sit here cosily in my castle while madmen set Ridderby aflame just because some of its citizens have ties to Orlais? I wonder, then, between Loghain and I, which of us the people will think more dishonourable.��

“You must of course do all in your power to help the folk in Edgehall and the surrounding lands,” the grizzled Bann Elara interjected with a cool nod of her head. “Nobody is suggesting otherwise. However, my lord Eamon makes a good point. Loghain is a seasoned commander – there is not one of us here who has not seen or at least heard tales of the great victories he won beside your father – and this is no doubt his first move of many. To cry forth with your army for a ragtag group of bandits would be disproportionate; it would stink of insecurity and would only lend legitimacy to the traitor’s claims against you.”

“Loghain himself isn’t in the west,” added Arl Leonas. “No doubt he’s still in Gwaren, stirring up his banns against you, Your Majesty. Most of them are men he put in power with his own hands, so they will answer, especially once he licks them with that silver tongue of his. If you leave Denerim, he will no doubt use the opportunity to wrest control of the city and have you declared unfit to rule.”

The implications of that suggestion settled about the company like the snow outside. Given the lack of an official heir, such a move could spark even greater chaos than was already tightening its grip on Ferelden. Anora was well-positioned and well-liked, and had gained much sympathy since her father’s outburst of accusations at the Landsmeet, making her a perfect puppet for anyone seeking to control the throne.

And Loghain was a masterful puppeteer. With Denerim under his thumb, he could persuade any wavering banns over to his side. All the respect Cailan had inherited with the Theirin bloodline would be made worthless by the perception of his weakness and willingness to side with Ferelden’s oldest enemy. Loghain’s path to power would by no means be complete as long as old families like the Couslands and the Guerrins still involved themselves, but it would be made far easier. Impulsive he might be, but Cailan had been schooled enough in politics to notice when he was cornered.

“In that case, I propose a new strategy.” Stray papers fluttered to the floor as the king cleared the topography of the large map spread across the war table. “Uncle, can I count on Redcliffe?”

“You have but to direct me,” came the steady response.

Cailan forestalled Eamon with a hand. “You I need here. What would I do without you to keep my head out of the clouds, eh?” He cleared his throat. “We’ll send out ravens immediately to your seneschal and to Uncle Teagan at Rainesfere – he can muster the western Bannorn and use them and Redcliffe’s soldiers to deal with the problems around Edgehall.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Eamon replied with a gracious smile. In moments like these, it was possible to see the qualities of both the young king’s parents shining through – Cailan shared a boisterous thirst for adventure with his father, but his wits were as sharp as Queen Rowan’s had ever been.

“With any luck, we can put this rebellion down before it’s even begun.” The king pouted. “Even if that means I don’t get to see a battle, I suppose.”

The arls fell into contemplative silence as they studied the maps, each with their own private thoughts about Cailan’s plans, each guarded in their worries for the future and what might become of their lands. Above the crack of the fire and the snores of the dog dreaming under the table, the storm wound its way into the gap in conversation like a crone worrying at an old tooth. Eventually, Bann Sighard of Dragon’s Peak cleared his throat, the first utterance he had made since the beginning of the council.

“What about the rest of us, Your Majesty? Are we to fight Loghain?”

Roused from his musing, Cailan straightened, a new, martial gleam shining from his eyes as he gazed at them each in turn. His plan was daring, and would require enough flexibility to allow his loyal forces to counteract any moves Loghain might make, but as he drew his fingers over the map in battle lines and troop movements, he found his confidence growing as approval warmed the faces around him. Perhaps this conflict would be like something from the old tales – perhaps in his quest to unite Ferelden, King Calenhad himself had once stood in council like this one, sketching paths for his retainers to follow on the field.

It was almost enough to quash the hot jolt of guilt that settled somewhere behind his navel as his thoughts drifted to Anora, caught in the middle between father and husband, her loyalties shredded by necessity into two camps. Cailan only hoped that after the dust finally settled and she returned to Denerim, he would be able to explain everything.

He was so caught up in his worry that he was startled when Leonas Bryland requested an end to the meeting. The hour-candle in the centre of the table had burned down past the midnight mark, and even the blizzard outside seemed to drowse, so with a distracted nod Cailan gave them permission to depart.

“Wait, Uncle,” he sighed. “I know it’s late but there’s one more thing.”

“Your Majesty?”

The king hesitated, his earlier enthusiasm overshadowed by a need to choose his words carefully. He fiddled with the embroidered cuff of his shirt, frowning when he found a loose thread. “It’s about my brother.”

Eamon blinked, quick to cover his surprise. “Your brother? I don’t -”

“Alistair,” Cailan clarified. “My father told me everything. He’s in Rainesfere now, isn’t he?”

“I believe Teagan has taken him on as his second,” the arl replied, a little stiffly. “He… objected when it was suggested the boy be given over to the Templars.”

“He has some martial training?”

“I believe so, Your Majesty.”

“Good.” Cailan’s mouth stretched into a familiar lop-sided grin. “I’ll let Teagan know I expect him to go to Edgehall. He can make use of himself on the battlefield, as a Theirin should.”

“It was made clear when King Maric brought Alistair to Redcliffe that he was to remain unacknowledged,” Eamon remarked with a frown. “For his own good if nothing else.”

“You worry too much, Uncle,” Cailan replied, clapping the older man on the shoulder. “Times have changed, and it’s always good to find new family when the old finds newer pastures.” An image of Anora’s soft, warm smile surfaced in his mind and smothered his moment of levity. He cleared his throat. “Besides, I never had a brother. I just hope he doesn’t win too many accolades before you let me lead a charge out of Denerim’s gates. I am still the king, after all.”

With a last chuckle, he whistled to his dog and walked with his uncle through the deserted passages until they reached the corridor separating the royal wing from the guest rooms of the palace. Eamon had a warm bed to go to, after all, and the pliant body of a wife waiting, as long as being disturbed at such an unmannerly hour didn’t make her too cross. The thought needled him more than was gracious, but he set it aside and bid his uncle a fond goodnight and turned away to his own dark rooms.

Likes and reblogs are always appreciated :)

[fllagellant]

pictured Left, Urien Deere working in the Alliance Vancouver Sciences Base. Tasked with working on Eezo and attempting to see if any form of beta decay can lead to another stable element. Any discoveries he makes is claimed by the Alliance and he cannot take any credit. 2178

//

pictured Right, Urien “Shepard” Deere returning to the Sciences Base after successfully beating the Reaper Invasion, continuing his work on Eezo and related elements. He is an independent man, no longer held back by the Alliance or being forced to do what they wished. 2188

[fllagellant]

an In-Between state of mind.

[fllagellant]

“Live tonight on the Alliance Sports Network, the Match of a Lifetime! Tune in at 9:30 P.M, Central Presidium Time! Or get last minute tickets for Kaidan Alenko, The Blue Shock, Versus Urien Deere, Frankenstein’s Demolisher! Who’s gonna cry ‘I Quit’ First? Find out Tonight!”

[fllagellant]

49 and 43 for cycii and urien :D

:D!!!

43. Which version of the Normandy do they like best? For Urien, I feel like he's very much a 'I like the classics' kind of man. The original SR1 felt like it was built with closeness in mind, and it wasn't hard to navigate and talk to everyone quickly. It was also the first ship he'd ever served on by choice, not being forced into the assignment by the alliance. It was his first attempt at freedom- or, as free as he could get- and it was a success! The SR2, both when it was owned by Cerberus and when it was recaptured by the Alliance, lost that connection. Both times, he wasn't given a choice of "Which ship will I command?" it was handed to him, without the option to say no. It also lost that sense of closeness the original had. Even after the retrofits, it didn't feel like the Normandy he chose. It didn't help that both added a lot of extra hunting to try and locate people he wanted/needed to talk to. It's embarrassing getting lost on the ship you command. For Cycii, he leans towards the SR2 while it was owned by Cerberus. He hates Cerberus as much as he hates the Alliance, but the SR2 helped him, strangely. The SR1 felt...off. He couldn't name why, but he never liked being on it for too long. He sorta thinks it was because of the silence of the ship, also the limited spaces for people to be. This limiting of space also applied to the SR2 while it was under the Alliance brand. They removed certain areas and crammed things into smaller spaces. The openness of the Cerberus design is something he preferred. He needs places he can go and just be alone, or removed from others without having to go to his quarters. He also admits that a majority of his growth as a person and his healing happened while on the Cerberus owned SR2. Strange, considering that he does view his work with Cerberus the worst part of his life. He had a lot of emotional connection to the Armoury, specifically. So having that gone definitely was a kick in the teeth when he was reinstated

49. What is Shepard’s happy ending? What’s the dream that keeps em going Urien!!! Wants!!! To!!! Go!!! Back!!! To!!! Earth!!! He wants to see Manitoba, he wants to see The Rocky Mountains, he wants to see Niagara Falls! He forever loathes the Alliance for taking him away from home and raising him off Earth, he was supposed to learn and grow in the fields of Manitoba. His childhood snack should have been pemmican, not MREs. There were so many things he was robbed of and so many things he wishes to give to himself. He lives for him, for the child in him. The child that spoke Michif to the Alliance Representatives and Sargents when they would question him. The child that used his rare free time on the extranet watching recordings of Powwows on Earth. The child that still counts the days until he's home. The child that stares out ships windows, watching, waiting. Waiting for Earth to come back into view and see Turtle Island again. Waiting for him to come home too. He dreams of the reunion. Cycii has a hard time picturing the future. He can only answer in vague statements when asked things like "Where do you see yourself in five years?" Not from a lack of wanting to see the future, it just seems impossible to picture himself in it. Things get blurry when he tries to think about the next week. For a long time, this issue made it hard for him to think of an ending, a dream, a finale. Even after healing himself, even after settling into a relationship, the future seemed so impossible to picture. So, he made it easy. His happy ending is greeting the next day. And the day after that. He just needs to live on, to welcome the new days and accept the past days. That's all he works for. And it pushes him forward. Everyday he makes it to his ending, and everyday he works toward it again.

[fllagellant]

7, 13, 41, 48 from the second batch for Sephtis and Urien pleaseeee <3

JAY YOU STRAIGHT UP POUNCED ON ME TYSM 7. What’s Shepard’s favorite way to let loose? Sephtis has two ways they go about it. One, which is the preferred way, is karaoke. There's a few karaoke bars in the Wards that they prefer to visit, usually because they're smaller. They get a room, order a few drinks, and just let it out. They aren't embarrassed by their voice or how they sing, but they prefer this to be a solitary event. It's just a space for them, letting them feel and open up and live a bit more freely. It helps them return to the work they have to do a bit lighter. The second way is sudden, spontaneous spring cleaning. If they feel too crowded, too compressed, they make quick work of their quarters or their apartment. Moving things, breaking things, putting some things on display and hiding other things. They usually end up in a very similar room to the one they started in, but it's the proof they control the area that feels freeing. They can do whatever they want, it's their space. Urien is already pretty loose, but he does have a few things that really allow him to let go. Things like arcades or laser tag are the most readily available ways he has to let loose. He likes fighting games, depositing five credits to see how far he can advance in Space Mortal Kombat. It's rewarding, mashing buttons and watching the enemy's health bar drop. Laser tag is fun because it's not the same as fighting on the field. You can make mistakes, you can laugh, you can mess around. If you misjudge a shot, or get cornered, or laugh too loud, it doesn't mean anything. It's not going to damage you, it's supposed to happen. It's just a game. Another way, which he only indulges in on rare occasions during long shore leaves, is rage rooms. He gives up handfuls of credits to have time to break and destroy. He prefers to use a crowbar, an actual physical weapon over an omnitool. He likes being able to break things, to shatter and crush. It's a way that he can let everything out and feel catharsis afterwards. 13. What kind of roommate would Shepard be? Sephtis is quiet, withdrawn, yet extremely caring. They stay out of others way, seeming to stay in their room all the time. But, they don't. The fridge gets restocked often, the dishes always get done. The laundry gets brought back clean, they don't fold it for free though. They keep the spaces clean, claiming small areas for their decorations. Soapstone cravings and a textile on one wall. There's proof that they live there, but they rarely are seen. They want the place to be open and liveable, while still being present in some way. They wouldn't be completely removed, offering council and aid if needed. They'd listen, if asked, about woes and problems or gossip. Someone to talk to, who would listen without judgement. And would offer aid only if requested. Urien is one hell of a roommate. Loud, bumbling, and exciting. He hangs around people, always trying to be in the same room. He likes having background noise, so he usually has music or a TV program playing in the background. He loves collecting trinkets, a large variety  of them, so he has a lot of little things on display around the space. It's a bright, colourful place to live. He regularly invites others over, always checking in just in case before confirming. He likes fun, he likes noise, he likes excitement. He's fairly on top of chores and important things, like groceries and bills. He likes working with people, so he does try to line up doing chores at the same time. He tries to set up game nights or movie night with his roommates. Even if his tastes are a bit underground, to say the least. 41. They’ve been caught in the rain! How does Shepard react? Sephtis loves rain. It doesn't matter what they're doing or where they're going. They'll try to stand out in the rain, walk in it, and enjoy it. They don't care how wet it'll make them. Rain and snow are so important to them. Like a true connection to the Earth, to life in general, and its cycles. Being caught in it in its purest form. They don't mind the chill from getting wet, they don't mind having their hair dripping wet. It's comforting. Urien is fine with light rain. Thunderstorms scare him, so he'd hate to be caught in one. He doesn't mind getting damp, even though he knows it causes his hair to frizz when it dries. Heavier rain isn't his friend. He always seems to get ill after being caught in anything more than a light drizzle. So, he usually tries to duck into a store or some enclosed area. If he can, he'll purchase an umbrella and try to high-tail it to where he needs to go. 48. What kind of a sleeper is Shepard? Sprawl out, hog the covers, octopus…. How many hours do they normally sleep? Sephtis doesn't move in their sleep, and sleeps in the fetal position. They prefer to lay on their left side, and don't care about blankets. They can sleep completely covered or completely exposed. They do need two pillows, laying on one or no pillow causes them neck pain in the morning. They sleep in shifts, one to two hours before waking up. This is from Alliance training and always needing to be ready to accept a job. Problem is, it takes them at least an hour to get back to sleep. So most of their night is spent awake after the first one to two hour sleep. They refuse to try and nap, being used to running on very little hours of sleep. Urien lays flat on his back, sprawled across the whole bed. He can't sleep flat like a board, didn't matter how hard the Alliance tried to drill the 'proper' sleeping position into him. He doesn't grab onto pillows or the covers, most times they end up sprawled around him. The one thing he latches onto is people. If someone is sharing the bed with him, he holds onto them and curls around them. Given his extra height and size, he ends up completely engulfing virtually most people if they share a bed with him. He has a very rigid sleep schedule. It's the one thing the Alliance successfully rooted in him. He can barely stay awake past eleven P.M. and he can't sleep in. Once it hits five A.M he's awake and he cannot fall back asleep. Naps are completely off the table.

[fllagellant]

also 2, 13, 27, & 47 for urien please 👁️🤌

my big frankenboy... 8 foot legend 2. How does your Shepard feel about having a yeoman assigned to them in 2? And in 3?

Urien has... a lot of feelings about Kelly. None of them good. Since Cerberus fumbled his resurrection- no fault of Miranda, the sabotage of the station destroyed 'his' body and forced him into a back up that wasn't exactly made to live in- Kelly being ever present and forcefully cheery felt wrong. She tried to be a friend, a therapist, a co-worker, a diary, all at once. She would try and gossip with him, then would question him about his hallucinations and if he wants her to contact TIM to see if he'll send over meds he can be put on. She treated him like she had to be everything for him, like he had to relearn living. He was already struggling with dying and waking up in a body that semi-resembled who he is but still wasn't him, only to been constantly harassed by a yeoman who refused to understand him or his boundaries. He couldn't talk on any meaningful level with her, knowing TIM would get reports about what he would say and use it against him. She wasn't there to help him. She didn't treat him like a person. She saw him as a project. With Traynor, it was different. Very different. She saw him as a person. Yes, she did say "I thought the height thing was a rumour, Commander!" when she first saw him, but that wasn't a crime. Seeing any human that size was a shock, no matter what. But she didn't behave like she was always his friend. She wasn't reporting every little thing about him to someone else. They bonded naturally over chess, they talked like normal people. There was no forceful joy or trying to wring answers out of Urien, it was just learning each other as friends. She was also just more pleasant to be around, always throwing small-talk around when telling him about messages or telling him if someone wants to talk to him. They clicked, neither of them forced their way into the others life. She was invited up to his cabin for chess nights or just to talk, Kelly was never given that honour. Samantha Traynor is a friend. Kelly Chambers is a Cerberus Agent. And that how he'll always see it. 13. How does your Shep react to teasing/ribbing? Urien thrives on it. Genuinely. Even during ME2, when he was extremely fragile, having Zaeed poke fun at his shit aim made him feel alive. It fuels him, pushing him to do more. Being raised by Alliance Sergents and Soldiers, professionalism was crammed down his throat. Mouthing off became a crime, he couldn't jab at anyone unless he wanted to risk a punishment later. So those urges just build up inside of him. When he gets on the Normandy, he uses that advantage to start teasing everyone around him. It just how he talks, how he pushes people around him. He flirts by teasing, he insults by teasing, he makes friends by teasing. He loves hearing it from other people. From teasing about armour to ribbing about his gun mods. Poking fun at his fashion sense to making fun of his dancing. It just pushes him to do more, but not from anger or anything like that. It's the truest form of motivation for him. It's also the quickest way to become friends with him. He just loves it. 27. Do they have any pet peeves?

Unsolicited advice. This is another reason he dislikes Kelly. It's not like teasing, when you tease you don't tell people what to do, it's always weirdly serious and it feels like it's devaluing his own opinions. When someone, without asking if he wants help, starts to tell him what he needs to do and how to do it and where to go, he feels devalued. He feels disrespected. He had to deal with constant unsolicited criticism and advice growing up, no one taking into consideration how he might want to do something or what path he wanted to follow. He's an adult, he wants to be treated like one. He has his way of living, he isn't going to adapt to how someone wants to see him live. 47. Does Shepard practice any kind of self-care? He picked up baking in house arrest, following a strict recipe and having the same result every time was nice. It was a welcomed departure from the unknown, from having to make everything up on the spot and figure it out from there. It let him focus on something simple, let him work out the stress of the day through making the dough and then allowed him to relax with the fruits of his labour. He takes up painting postwar, sometimes it's portraits but its usually just him following his instincts. Whatever his heart says, he'll put on the canvas. He loves making abstract art, art that's from his feelings. It helps him process current and past events.

[fllagellant]

Was tagged by @spookyvalentine !! EEK TYSM !! I don’t know who to tag , so if you see this post , then pretend I tagged you if you want to do this too !!

Urien Deere

Shiloh Ryder - Shepard

Kimimela - Chetanzi Shepard

Keren Eros

Cycii Durand

Ahmet Yarran

Sephtis Shepard

Julius Ryder

Calliope Ryder