#we just met imshael

[arainaizevran]

im already 62% through the masked empire ohhh i am speedrunning this shit

[5lazarus]

Work in Progress Wednesday

“Surely you don’t think the gods are coming back,” Imladris says, nonplussed. “I didn’t see Fen’Harel in the Fade.”

Briala says, “Isn’t that the story, that He trapped them in slumber, waiting in the Fade? Well, the barriers between the waking and the dreaming are broken now. The dead have been rising. Why not the gods?”

“Because the gods are dead,” Imladris says furiously. “If they ever existed. If they ever cared. I cannot imagine the degradation of our history, Briala, if the gods were real. Who would let this happen to us? They were legends, nothing more. Perhaps there was some historical antecedent, folk heroes who became cast as divine after—why are you here? If you wanted to argue theology, you could’ve just sent in an essay.”

“I have better things to do than write for your little magazine,” Briala says. “But you have made my point nicely. Something existed, to make the legend. The religion. And whatever was does not seem to have cared too much about what happened to their people.” She leans forward and fixes Imladris with a stare. Imladris tenses. “I believe the gods existed and I believe they were not kind. I have seen the ruins of Elvhenan, Immo’.” Imladris looks down. She hasn’t heard that name since Val Royeaux. “It was a caste-based slave society. I cannot believe the gods in charge of that were good to us. And if they are waking, as I believe there are—well.” Briala settles back in the rickety chair, which creaks dangerously but does not break. “That does not herald well.”

Imladris digests the pun. “Do you have any evidence?”

Briala says, “I met an ancient elf who called himself Slow Arrow in the old tongue, who told a the Forbidden One called Imshael ‘something big is coming’ to convince him to let myself and Mihris go. Something bigger than the Orlesian civil war. You’re not the only one who has been walking into legends, lethallin. The Forbidden One possessed Mihris. She saw something. And it is time to prepare.”

Imladris says, “For what?”

“The end of this world, of course. Do you think what’s coming is good? Is better than where we are now? I want the Dales, Imladris Ashallin. I want Elvhenan for our people. And I want it without the gods.” Briala gestures. “Lindiranae and the Emerald Knights thought the gods would save them, and we ended up little better than slaves again.”

Imladris, a bit shocked, laughs. “What are you asking of me? I can’t fight legends.”

“Except you are,” Briala says. “After you kill Corypheus, one would-be god, what’s a whole pantheon?” She rises and smirks down at her. Imladris, realizing she’s gaping, hurriedly fixes her face and glares. “Think about it. It would do us all some good, if you used your position for the people.” She picks up the tray still sitting on the table and offers it to Imladris. Mechanically she takes it. “You should eat before your food gets cold. When you’re in the Graves, do give Fairbanks my regards.”

Briala leaves quietly, head bowed and movements small and quick like a servant. Imladris hears the ugly sound of cutlery clattering against stoneware and looks down. She’s shaking so violently she is spilling her soup: a waste, she thinks, and mechanically begins to eat.

[elvhenfaer]

“Trying to get into my good graces in the game”

There is no try, actually. He’s just there, in your good graces. You meet Michel in Emprise du Lion and he’s like “I must kill Imshael to rectify a mistake 😢” and the Inquisitor is like “I’ll help. We kill demons. That’s our whole thing.” and if you talk to him EVEN ONCE afterward, he is recruited as an agent and that lil bitch just starts strutting around Skyhold. There’s ZERO dialogue option for you to be like “No, thanks. You’re just some guy I met that I don’t care about and don’t want around.”

And THEN you get a fancy little War Table Mission to get the old gang back together for a little racist revival party by reuniting him with Celene. Isn’t that just neat-fucking-o?

Remember that time when Michel de Chevin partook in the Academie des Chevaliers’ graduation ritual of getting drunk and riding into the slums to slaughter whatever elves they could find? The slums he grew up in as an elf-blooded boy?

Because DA:I doesn’t. :)

[arlathmyheart]

Inquisitor as a Spirit of Faith Meta - Also extra solavellan angst theory.

It is already pretty much widely accepted that solas is/may be a spirit of wisdom/ pride demon hence his name although we don’t understand the links to having a physical body especially an elf however Imshael a desire demon definitely looks human in dai. Flemeth and mythal as human etc.

As I have played more and more this idea won’t quit my brain that the inquisitor is somehow linked to a spirit of some kind. Probably a Faith spirit as wisdom, faith and compassion are often talked about and notably with ellipsis. It also kind of makes sense considering the conclave and their status as divine. Kind of like the opposite of the fear demon growing from the blight.

Okay so these are from various places.

Burdens of command quest:

Purpose: What of you I felt your coming, is there something alike in us?

I’ve only just met you> What does that matter? How can you not already see what I am? What a strange world this is where time blinds you.

THIS TIME COMMENT IS INTERESTING AS I SWEAR THERE WAS A COMMENT ABOUT RIFTS AND ALEXIUS TYING THE FADE AND TIME INTO KNOTS. I think it putting time in knots is mentioned by how Ameridan bound hakkon. Anyhow I don’t think we have seen the last of time magic by quite a bit. I will look into this more.

I think there must be?> I knew it! Make your armies ready, cleave to your loyal servants you will need them all.

I will find out the third option later and add it in.

Solas:

A solid form is both shackle and strength, it affects than more you can imagine.

A spirits natural state is peaceful semi existence. It is rare to be able to reflect reality.

I am not a spirit and sometimes it is hard to remember such simple truths.

We cannot change our nature by wishing. Will alone cannot overcome what you see. Few in this world can see me.

What were you like before the anchor, has it affected your mind, your morals, your... spirit?

If the Dalish can raise someone with a spirit like yours...

You are unique...

I look at you and I see what you truly are.

You have a rare and marvellous spirit... in another world-

Cole:

This place is wrong (the fade). I made myself forget when I made myself real.

Solas, spirit self seeing the soul.

You are too bright... the mark makes you more.

The weight of all on you, the hopes you carry, the fears you fight, you are theirs.

All new faded for her:

Solas tells us in his personal quest what happens when a spirit dies. That it is not the same for mortals. He also insists that spirits are people.

If the idea giving the spirit form is strong or the memory has shaped other spirits, it may some day rose again. (Albeit slightly changed, they would not be the friend I knew.)

Cole says things like they are not gone so long as you remember them. And that Solas carries necessary deaths. (Like people/spirits he wants to rise again aka wisdom/felassan) Also his fear is dying alone. If there is no one left to remember him?

I like to think this is all because for spirits or such the immortality is partly due to this kept memory and reincarnation. This also makes major sense and angst that his parting words to a romanced lavellan are: I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU.

I can’t help but think he dreams of reuniting with her if she is part spirit. Only heart breaking that in another world she would no longer be the same!

If there is more data similar to this I’d love to hear it. I think I’d noticed more but I can’t remember it right now. I’m not sure if there is race specific dialogue that alters this theory, please let me know!

[crackinglamb]

You Have Chosen Nydha To Be Your Companion!

Hopping off @little-lightning-lavellan's idea to take a DA:I OC and turn them into a companion, may I present Banal'ras Nydha (from Hope Is a Fragile Thing) and her wiki page.

General

Banal'ras Nydha looks human, although there is something that doesn't seem quite right about her. She has dark hair and skin and startlingly green eyes, and speaks with a low, raspy voice. It is often difficult to find her in a room. Nydha first appears, and is available to recruit, in the Temple of Sacred Ashes before attempting to close the Breach. She offers knowledge and combat tactics against demons. If dismissed, or never spoken to, she will then be spotted in Haven behind Solas's cabin. She will not be available to recruit at that time, although once the Inquisition is relocated to Skyhold, she will make an offer to travel with the Inquisitor. If dismissed again, she will become a non-interactive NPC in the Rotunda, usually found near the mural or atop the scaffolding. If she is never recruited, she will disappear from Skyhold after the final battle with Corypheus.

Nydha is not romanceable by any Inquisitor, but can engage in a relationship with Solas if a female Dalish Inquisitor has not done so. She is friendly and bonds well with most of the other party members, especially Cole, Dorian and, of course, Solas. She prefers diplomacy and tends towards mediation rather than confrontation. If a Dalish Inquisitor has romanced Solas, and has high approval, Nydha will offer comfort and sympathy upon termination of the relationship. If low approval, Nydha has nothing to say.

She has strong opinions on the plight of elves, slaves and mages. She is supportive of any measures that would improve the lives of them. Her early banter with Dorian revolves around debating Tevinter's practices and trying to get him to see a better way. She will also speak with Iron Bull about the shortcomings of the Qun, although never with the same level of disdain as Solas. While she never openly mocks the Chantry or Andrastianism, she isn't a strong supporter or believer and has no opinion on who becomes Divine.

Location

In Haven, Nydha can be found behind Solas's cabin, usually in the darkest corner. Once the Inquisition relocates to Skyhold, she can be found in either the Arcane Library or the Rotunda.

Approval

Nydha's approval level is based upon empathy. An Inquisitor who is helpful, respectful and curious will gain approval. Nydha has no opinion on quests such as Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts or the outcome of Here Lies the Abyss, but approves diplomatic resolutions to judgments. She will greatly approve allying with the Free Mages, and only slightly approve conscripting the Templars. Conscription of the Free Mages or allying with the Templars will result in full disapproval. She will greatly approve Iron Bull becoming Tal-Vashoth and keeping Cole as a spirit. Actions that are ruthless or cruel will lose approval.

A high approval Inquisitor will learn that Nydha was born in another world and 'crossed over' through the Veil when the Breach opened. She will tell the Inquisitor that her name was given to her as a gift from someone she met in the Fade. She does not, however, say that it is Solas (see below for unique Trespasser dialogue). She will say that her name means 'Shadow of Night', according to her translation. A Dalish Inquisitor can have special dialogue to recognize the name as being Elvish and can question how a human came to have it. Nydha will answer that it is because the native language of the Fade is Elvish, a remnant from when elves held all of Thedas before human arrival.

A low approval Inquisitor will not learn this part of her history and she will remain an enigma. If approval falls to zero, she will refuse to speak to the Inquisitor, although she does not leave and is still available as a companion.

Quests

Survivor In the Shadows – the quest for meeting Nydha initially at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It begins upon speaking with her, and ends with either recruitment or dismissal.

From the Ashes – only available after either In Hushed Whispers or Champions of the Just, but before completion of In Your Heart Shall Burn, Nydha will ask the Herald to accompany her back to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to search for her few belongings. The Herald will find a journal, a bundle of unusual clothes and a single unmarked vial. Nydha will approve completing this quest.

A Better Form – Nydha will ask for help in stabilizing her corporeal body if Dagna is brought into the Inquisition. Resolution of this quest will involve having Dagna create a unique amulet that will act as a permanent grounding source, rather like a lightning rod. Components for this amulet are: 1 blank rune stone, 1 wisp essence, and either 5 dawnstone or 5 volcanic aurum (both imbue constitution bonuses). It will act as an Amulet of Power, granting Nydha an extra skill point. This is the only time such an ability will be available to her. This will also allow her to wear other amulets throughout the remainder of the game. She, and Solas, will greatly approve completing this quest.

Twice-Born – available during the Jaws of Hakkon DLC. Nydha, if in the party, will ask to speak with the Augur of Stone-Bear Hold once relations with the hold have been established. If she is not among the Inquisitor's party, she will be found in the main scout camp near Professor Kenric. What the two speak about will be unknown, but at the end of the quest, Nydha will inform the Inquisitor that she has been given the legend-mark Twice-Born from the hold's 'gods'. Cole will greatly approve completing this quest, regardless of whether or not he is in the party.

Note: This quest is not dependent upon approval, but is the only time she will speak with a zeroed out Inquisitor, should that level of low approval be reached.

Ability Tree/Specialization

Nydha is technically a rogue, and can utilize either a bow or double daggers. She has an autolevel preference for the Subterfuge tree, and has an additional, unique starting skill in Fade Cloak. This does not require further leveling to be active. It is the only skill that cannot be deactivated from her skillset.

She can specialize in either Tempest or Rift Mage, due to her nature as a being from the Fade. She is not otherwise a mage. Her decision on specialization can be influenced, as she will ask the Inquisitor's opinion. If no opinion is given, she will default to taking Tempest.

Combat comments

“Come get some!”

“Catch me if you can!”

(If specialized in Tempest) “Burn, baby, burn.”

(If specialized in Rift Mage) “Ooh, the stuff of nightmares.”

Kills an enemy

“Another one bites the dust.”

“Cool story, bro.”

“Then perish.”

Low Health

“This was not on my agenda today.”

“A little help?”

Low Health (Companions)

For all general companions: “I have your back.”

If in a romance with Solas: “Take a breather, fenorain.”

Fallen Companions

For all general companions: “I'll make them pay!”

If in a romance with Solas: “NO!”

Location Comments

Ferelden:

Hinterlands: “Why is it so big? Why is everything so big?”

Fallow Mire: “I have mud in unmentionable places. Can we go now?”

Storm Coast: “I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and sky.”

If companions question her: “It's just from a poem I once read.”

Orlais:

Exalted Plains: “So much death. Can't you feel it?”

Emerald Graves: “This forest is old. Very old.” [laughs] “I always wanted to say that in proper context.”

Emprise du Lion: “Stay away from the bloody lyrium. And wear a hat.”

At Suledin Keep after Imshael, if Solas is in the party: “Ir abelas, lethallin.” (If romanced) Ir abelas, fenorain.”

Solas's reply (only translated if the Inquisitor is Dalish): “Ma serannas. Ea lam'an.” (It is in the past)

At the Pools of the Sun, regarding the trio of dragons: “Can't we just leave them alone? They really won't hurt anyone if we keep our distance.”

Hissing Waste: “You know, if you ignore the endless vista of sand, it's really quite beautiful. In a bleak kind of way.”

Western Approach: “Hot. Hot and blighted. I need a drink.”

Forbidden Oasis, upon reaching the second camp: “That's it, I'm never leaving.”

Arbor Wilds: “Mind your footing. This place is full of secrets.”

In Val Royeaux: “Pretty place.”

Frostback Basin: “I could stay here forever. Even with the varmints.”

The Descent: “Nice and dark, just the way I like it.”

At the Wellspring: “Wow...that's amazing.”

Trespasser: “Now it all ends, my friend.”

If the Inquisitor questions the statement: “You'll see soon enough.”

Companion/Advisor comments

Varric – Gotta watch out for Spooky, there's something about her I can't put my finger on.

Cassandra – She is an able fighter, but I would not trust her out of my sight, which is far too often.

Solas – She is secretive by nature, but I would assure you that she means no harm.

Iron Bull – She's a tricky one. Good fighter, lotta secrets. Good at keeping them too. I don't think I've cracked a single one that she didn't tell me herself.

Dorian – She's fascinating. I am not at liberty to say why, of course, if you don't already know.

Cole – Bright as the sun and scattered as the stars. She wants to help, just like I do.

Vivienne – She seems capable enough, my dear. But I would not dare to trust her. She is an accomplished player of the Game, for all her smiles and good cheer.

Sera – She's as bad as Creepy, although she's better at jokes. She's better at hiding than I am!

Blackwall – She knows something. She knows too many somethings.

Josephine – She keeps to herself and has caused no diplomatic incidents. I wish I could say the same for some of the others gathered here.

Leliana – I find it curious that I cannot find any solid evidence of her existence before the Conclave, but that does not automatically mark her a spy. However, her nature makes me no more inclined to trust her. I would be wary of her.

Cullen – Who? Oh, the...shadowy...person. I hear she can handle herself. I can't say I've spoken with her, so I don't have an opinion.

Trespasser

There is a unique dialogue tree available to the Inquisitor while speaking with Solas if Nydha was recruited as a companion.

“Did you know about Nydha?”

“Yes, I am the one who gave her her name. I found her while I yet slept, and she became corporeal after the Breach.”

(First branch) “Is she one of your agents?”

“No. She has only ever been my friend.”

(Special, if not romanced) “Your friend? It seemed to be more than that.”

“In another world, perhaps.”

(Second branch) “Is she joining you?”

“No, I would not wish her on this path.”

(Third branch) “She knew this whole time. Why didn't she tell me?”

“She had her reasons for not telling you. (If high approval) I hope you will not hold them against her.”

Regardless of approval, Nydha disappears after the Exalted Council. She settles in the Frostback Basin among the Avvar. A high approval Inquisitor will receive correspondence from her from time to time, but she will refuse to come back to the 'civilized' nations of Thedas, preferring privacy and isolation.

Trivia

If in the party during Here Lies the Abyss, the Nightmare demon will speak to her in Elvish. Her reply is a scoff and nothing else.

Nydha can be a third option at the Vir'Abelasan if she is in the party. If she is chosen to drink from the Well, Abelas does not object, although he will still point out that she will be bound as they are. If Nydha drinks, she will summon Flemeth and work with the Inquisitor to tame the dragon for the final confrontation with Corypheus. If she is in the party during Trespasser, she will be able to provide the password to the spirit guards, preventing a fight.

If Morrigan is allowed to attack Abelas, she will attempt to defend him and will argue that the witch is not worthy of the knowledge she seeks if brutality is her only way to get it. If there is a peaceful alliance with the Sentinels and Morrigan is chosen to drink, Nydha will slightly disapprove but hold her tongue on the matter.

If the Inquisitor drank from the Well, and succeeds in finding enough clues to determine that Solas is Fen'Harel, Nydha will appear saddened when the Inquisitor rebuts to the Viddasala that they already know. She will state that this was what she'd been waiting for. The Inquisitor will have the option to accuse her of knowing the whole time. She will answer yes, but she won't explain.

If Nydha is never recruited, and remains an NPC in the Rotunda, one will hear her occasionally speak with Solas. These conversations range in topic from books they are reading to the mural. Never about Inquisition business. There is a slight chance to hear them speaking in Elvish, and their words are not translated, regardless of Inquisitor's race. Solas's replies appear to be noncommittal.

Nydha will remark upon the Inquisitor's romantic choices, usually with something supportive and a hope that they are happy together. She will also comment something generally pleasant about each companion if asked. The exception to this is if Iron Bull remains Ben-Hassrath. Nydha will caution the Inquisitor to be careful of telling him too much since his loyalty is now unknown.

It can be implied from various interactions and from high approval conversation that Nydha was in fact aware of everything that would happen during the course of the game. She never gives a reason for keeping her silence on matters pertaining to what foreknowledge she had, although any input given during the game events is sound and often given in such a way so as not to risk suspicion.

It can also be implied that regardless of what Solas says during Trespasser, Nydha has actually left the Inquisition to join his ranks, or at least does not stand opposed to him. This is not confirmed, however, and according to her epilogue card, she is enjoying a quiet life in the Frostback Basin with no intention of ever interfering with Thedosian politics or events again.

[worldevoured]

ANORA MAC TIR  B. 9:02 DRAGON || INQUISITOR

STATISTICS

FULL NAME Anora Mac Tir.

DATE OF BIRTH 9:02 Dragon.

PLACE OF BIRTH Gwaren.

RACE Human.

GENDER Cisgender woman.

PRONOUNS She/her/hers.

SEXUALITY Bisexual.

NATIONALITY Fereldan.

RELIGION Andrastean.

POSITIVE TRAITS Ambitious, intelligent, logical, serious.

NEGATIVE TRAITS Cold, deceitful, opportunistic, secretive.

PHOBIAS None.

MENTAL HEALTH Healthy.

AFFILIATION Fereldan Court ( formerly ), Inquisition.

TITLES Queen ( formerly ), Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor.

SKILLS & ABILITIES

CLASS Warrior.

SPECIALIZATION Templar.

WEAPON Greatsword.

DECISIONS

EXPLORING THEDAS Redcliffe — Inner Sanctum reached, Crossroads secured, gained cultists’ allegiance; Crestwood — Closed lake’s rift, captured Caer Bronach; Western Approach — Claimed Griffon Wing’s Keep; Hissing Wastes — Explored Dwarven ruins; Fallow Mire — troops rescued from the Avvar; Emerald Graves — Fairbanks revealed to be noble, Fairbanks defeated the Freeman; Emprise du Lion — Imshael killed, captured Suledin Keep.

THE WRATH OF HEAVEN Accepts being chosen by Andraste.

CHAMPIONS OF THE JUST Went to Theirinfal Redoubt, allied with templars; Ser Barris made Knight Commander.

IN YOUR HEART SHALL BURN Declared for faith.

HERE LIES THE ABYSS Grey Wardens banished, Warden Contact left in Fade.

WICKED EYES AND WICKED HEARTS Celene rules alone, Gaspard executed. Grand Duchess Florianne killed.

WHAT PRIDE HAD WROUGHT Skipped elven rituals and fought guards, Morrigan drank from the Well of Sorrows.

DOOM UPON ALL THE WORLD Cassandra made Divine.

JUDGMENTS AT SKYHOLD A hanging judge.

JAWS OF HAKKON Discovered and met Ameridan, did not share the truth about Ameridan, hunted down the Nox Morta, the dragon was slain.

COMPANIONS

Blackwall recruited and stayed, left prison as false Grey Warden;

Cassandra received and read Tome, rebuilt Seeker order;

Cole recruited and stayed, made more human;

Dorian recruited and stayed, met and did not reconcile with father;

Iron Bull recruited, Chargers not saved;

Sera recruited, killed Harmond on her own and left;

Solas freed his friend;

Varric tracked red lyrium source;

Vivienne recruited, given snowy wyvern heart;

Cullen encouraged to not use lyrium;

Josephine supported to do favors for the Du Paraquettes;

Leliana steeled.

CONNECTIONS

FAMILY Loghain ( father ), Celia ( mother, deceased ), Cailan ( husband, deceased ).

WANTED SHIPS Anora/Cailan, Anora/Fergus, Anora/Sebastian, Anora/Warden.

NOTES

ON MORALITY Anora is a phenomenal politician, but a questionable person in terms of her morality. I love her character and find her fascinating, but I won’t skim over that. Anora also is, objectively, not a particularly good queen during the Origins timeline – she does nothing to try and curb her father’s power, or Rendon Howe’s, and either doesn’t know that a foreign power is in Denerim and involved in an illegal slave trade, or doesn’t care. This will be addressed. 

I also think it’s important not to shy away from the fact that Anora is ambitious, and ruthless. Whether it’s because she believes that only she can rule Ferelden effectively or it’s because she just likes power, these are important parts of her character. I don’t think it’s fair to judge Anora harshly for the things we celebrate in male characters, but I don’t think it’s fair, either, to absolve her of her faults or even potential cruelty in an attempt to correct the misogyny in fandom.

It’s also important to acknowledge that Anora has canonically shown prejudice against elves, shown primarily through her indifference towards elves, even though she would likely deny any prejudice if asked. This is another thing I won’t ignore or skim over. Anora is not a feminist character.

SHIPPING Because of Anora’s role, direct or otherwise, in the capture and sale of elves as Tevinter slaves, I am very uncomfortable shipping Anora with elves.

CANON COMPLIANCE

WORLDSTATE After she is overthrown by Alistair and the Warden, Anora is imprisoned, until she is exiled. Anora leaves for the Free Marches, where she is taken in by friends of the family ( by default, the Trevelyans ); while there, she enjoys some of the social privileges of nobility, alongside the shame of being removed from her throne. She swears to retake her country, certain that only she can lead with the strength and power that Ferelden needs. When her hosts are invited to take part in the Conclave, Anora attends with them, hoping to impress upon the Divine the need to remove Alistair from Ferelden’s throne in the wake of the violence and turmoil wracking the nation. She is the sole survivor from the explosion. She believes herself to be chosen by Andraste, fashioning herself almost as a second coming. For this main verse, Alistair must be king.

QUEEN OF FERELDEN I will also happily write Anora having remained the Queen of Ferelden; however, this verse will only be available on request, and will require some plotting. My main verse for Anora involves her becoming Inquisitor.

ON CAILAN The idea that Cailan would secretly arrange for a marriage with the leader of a foreign nation, particularly of a nation that once colonized Fereldan, and cast aside a well-beloved queen who is also the daughter of a national hero, and could and would do this without anyone being the wiser, just doesn’t work for me, so I ignore it. It wasn’t in the game, and I don’t super trust Gaider anyway, so I’m happy to assume it isn’t there.

PLEASE READ!

It’s totally okay if this isn’t your scene! I won’t be offended if you’re not interested in my portrayal of Anora, and I encourage you to blacklist her tags if you don’t like what I’m doing with her. I also encourage anyone who wants to have a discussion on this topic to reach out to me; I love talking about my inspiration for Anora, how I develop her, and the historical analysis and theory I use for the character’s backbone. To me, the most interesting things about Anora are her many faults, and how she weaponizes the very things for which people dismiss her, especially her womanhood. That means examining, as honestly and critically as I can, the manner by which Anora takes part in oppressing the elves of Ferelden, all of which is supported by canon material. I have studied medieval and early modern queenship extensively, and am drawing from not only canon, but from the historical influences from which canon drew. Please be an adult about this; nonstop vagueing and accusing me of misogyny when I point out Anora’s canonical racism isn’t the gotcha anyone thinks it is. 

[teyrnacousland]

As much as I support all the arguments about spirits and possession I get this feeling that people here... focus so much on how abominations are not as much a danger as Chantry paints them to be that they end up whitewashing spirits. In terms of morals, I mean. This weird attitude that demons only do "bad" things because it is expected and that only desperate mages end up being manipulated. I say that as someone who is anti-chantry and considers Avaar spirit practices a great solution.

This is a good point, and I think I’m guilty of this sometimes too. I do think spirits and demons are less black and white than we’re told, but I will admit there are bad demons. Imshael, for example, is probably just Like That, and it has nothing to do with what’s expected of him. 

I think part of it is just we know so little about spirits and demons. What exactly is the difference between spirits and demons? What exactly changes in them when they change from one to the other? Why are they changed physically when their purpose is denied (according to Solas)/when they let themselves be perverted by their desires (according to Justice)? We also have no idea how much of it is expectations. Because at least some of it is, according to Solas. But we have no way of knowing to what extent that is. It could be rare, or it could be the case for literally every demon we’ve ever met, since the Chantry influences everyone’s expectations and that in turn could influence everyone in the Fade. We just don’t know enough to say.

I do, however, believe that desperate mages are at the very least the vast majority of abominations. I stand by that one. Most abominations we encounter in the entire series are mages who are desperate and distressed, and often backed into a corner. Mages, especially Circle mages, have come into contact with demons before. Every Harrowed mage has experience resisting at least one demon. And even beyond that, the Veil is thin in the Circles, and demons are attracted to mages, so some of them probably have even more experience. Mages know how to resist demons. The only times they really fall victim to them is when they let it happen, either because they’re too distressed to stop and think about consequences, or when they believe it’s worth the risk. Only desperate people are willing to risk so much with so little chance of reward. 

And you brought up the Avvar, which is good because they’re the only ones who seem to really know what they’re doing when it comes to spirits. The Avvar don’t seem to have any issue with demons and abominations at all. But why is that? I’d guess this is either because there are just less “evil” demons around them because they understand spirits better (which would mean the expectations thing is really a big deal), or just that they’re not in such terrible situations, and if they are ever desperate and need supernatural help they have spirits ready to help them, so they don’t need to turn to demons. a

[pikapeppa]

Cullen/Lavellan modern AU: New Start

@schoute and I did another fic/art trade and BOTH OF US ARE SCREAMING AND WE ARE NOT OKAY ❤️❤️❤️

As my part of the trade, I wrote three more chapters of Luck and the Law: the Origin Story™ of our modern AU Piper Lavellan and Cullen’s relationship! They are up on AO3 here!

In the meantime, here is the second chapter, in which Piper makes her way to Kirkwall after having her heart broken in Ansburg.

*********************

Piper hefted her backpack higher onto her shoulder as she trudged toward the pub. Three buses and two days of travel had finally brought her to Kirkwall.

It was past dinnertime and past dark, and Piper was exhausted. All she’d eaten in the past two days was the leftovers that her boss had insisted she take from the restaurant when she’d gone in to plead for her last paycheque, but the leftovers were long gone by last night, and Piper was so hungry it felt like her stomach was sticking to her spine. She hadn’t had a cigarette since the night Peronn had stolen her money, and her head was a constant throbbing ache. Peronn was the one who’d started her smoking, and the thought of a cigarette touching her lips made her want to retch, but the withdrawal wasn’t making her abstinence any easier.

She covered her mouth to hide a yawn as she locked her bike up near the pub. Really, she shouldn’t be going to a pub at all; her first concern should be finding a place to stay. But she was at a loss as to where exactly to go. She only had a few hundred bucks to her name, and she’d have to stretch that for at least a few days in Kirkwall until she found a job. The cheapest hostel in this city was a place called Imshael’s Haven in a part of the city called Darktown, but it had a one-star rating on Google, and multiple people had left reviews saying their shit had been stolen while staying there. There were a couple of other hostels in a slightly more expensive neighbourhood called Lowtown, but Piper balked at the thought of losing half of her remaining funds for a few nights in a bed.

But what was her alternative? In the past, she’d happily crashed on the couch of anyone who’d offered. But that was before her so-called friends had beaten her up and taken all her money after making her think she was one of them - that she was a member of the group, and that she was loved…

She shunted the thought of Peronn’s baby blue eyes to the back of her mind and pushed back her hood as she neared the pub. The Hanged Man, it was called; she’d heard a few people talking about this place as she’d gotten off the bus, and they said it had a good reputation for cheap but tasty appetizers. If Piper was totally honest, she would love a drink too, but it was probably a bad idea. She should be saving her money, and the last thing she needed in her pitifully empty stomach was booze.

Especially given what had happened the last time she’d gotten drunk.

Peronn’s smiling face intruded into her thoughts once more: his handsome, vile, lying face. Piper shivered and hunched her shoulders, then pushed open the door to the Hanged Man.

A lively wave of conversation met her ears, carried by the gritty sound of a grunge rock song that Piper vaguely remembered from the 90s. The pub was dark and cozy, with a low ceiling and red walls decorated with mug shots of famous criminals from all around Thedas. The bar was along the left-hand wall, manned by a pretty woman around Piper’s age with short dark hair, and at the back of the pub, there was a small stage with a karaoke machine.

Karaoke? Piper thought with a flash of amusement. No one had mentioned that. Not that she would ever do karaoke - she couldn’t sing to save her life - but it was funny that they offered it here.

She made her to way to the bar, then leaned against it to wait for the bartender’s attention. A minute later, the bartender sashayed over with a smile.

“Hey there,” the bartender said. “You look like you need a drink.” Her grin was wide and cheeky, but to Piper’s pleasant surprise, the bartender’s gaze didn’t linger too long on Piper’s obvious facial wounds.

Despite her exhaustion, Piper found herself smiling in response. She scoffed and slumped her elbows on the bar. “What gives you that idea?” she drawled. She fully expected the bartender to comment on her face; the livid scabs and bruises were the most noticeable thing about her face right now, after all.

But the bartender surprised her again by not mentioning her face at all. Instead, she jerked her head at the speaker in the corner. “This song,” she said. “It makes me want to drink. I fucking hate it.”

Piper listened a bit more carefully, then snorted a laugh. “You’re right. I hate this song too. I could do with something more upbeat.”

“Right?” the bartender said enthusiastically. “Something fun to dance to.” She shimmied her shoulders a bit.

“Yeah!” Piper laughed. “Something like-”

She broke off as the next song started. A slow grin lifted her wounded lips as she recognized the distinctive 80s tones, and she and the bartender made eye contact.

“Fuck yeah, the Safety Dance!” they said at the same time.

Piper gaped at the bartender, who stared back at her with wide eyes, and then they both burst into laughter. Piper laughed and laughed until her diaphragm started to hurt. The bartender’s bubbly energy was infectious, and the past two days had been so awful that Piper felt like she hadn’t smiled in ages, and it just felt so good to find something funny again, even if it was the stupidest thing in the world.

She finally wiped her eyes, and the bartender chuckled as she held out her hand. “I’m Rynne,” she said. “But you can call me Hawke. Everyone does.”

Piper shook her hand. “I’m Piper,” she said.

Hawke grinned, then released her hand. “What can I get for you, Piper?”

“Um, I heard you guys have food,” Piper said. “Do I order at the bar, or…?”

Hawke nodded. “Yeah, or you can take a seat at a table and a waitress will come help you out. Whatever you like.”

Piper hesitated. She could go sit at a table; it would probably be more comfortable than sitting at the bar, and her back was still hurting from the shitty bus seats. But Hawke’s face was so open and friendly, and as pitiful as it sounded, Piper could use a friendly face after the terrible few days she’d just had.

She shifted onto one of the bar stools. “I, uh, I’ll sit here, if that’s okay…?”

“Of course!” Hawke said. “I’ll never say no to a pretty girl sitting at my bar.” She winked at Piper and handed her a menu. “You can help me pick what song should play next. I mean, I only get a little bit of choice - the boss usually picks a playlist and we stick with that, but I’m allowed to choose two songs per hour.” She chuckled as she pulled out two shot glasses and placed them on the bar. “I usually make sure I pick songs that will bug the shit out of him.” She turned around and pulled a bottle of tequila from the lower shelf behind the bar.

Piper smirked as Hawke poured the shots. “I bet your boss loves you for that.”

“Oh, he does,” Hawke assured her cheerfully. “Everyone loves me. I’m fantastic, can’t you tell?” Then she pushed one shot glass in Piper’s direction.

“Cheers,” Hawke said. “It’s on me.”

Piper’s eyes widened. “Oh, no,” she protested. “No, that’s way too nice, you don’t have to-”

Hawke waved her hand dismissively. “Go on,” she coaxed, “go ahead. Consider it a ‘welcome to Kirkwall’ shot.”

Piper released a soft exhale, then gave Hawke a rueful smile. “All right. Thanks a lot,” she said softly. She lifted the shot and clinked her tiny glass against Hawke’s before swallowing it down.

The cheap tequila was a harsh but pleasant burn as it made its way down her throat. She hissed in a breath through her teeth, then looked at Hawke. “How’d you know I just got here?” she asked.

Hawke shrugged as she briskly placed their glasses into the sink. “The backpack, the post-travel slumped posture, take your pick,” she said. “We also don’t see many Dalish elves here.” She cocked her head to the side. “Actually, I can’t think of any aside from my friend Merrill. She’s doing a kind of Dalish cultural exchange thing, though, and she’s going to the university part-time.” Her thoughtful gaze settled on Piper’s face. “I don’t get the sense that that’s why you’re here.”

Piper shrugged casually and dropped her eyes to the menu. “Nah, not me. I’m just travelling, you know, making my way across Thedas, seeing all the sights. You don’t see a whole lot when you just stick with your clan.” She kept her voice light and tried to pretend she was just a normal traveller who wasn’t standing on the precipice of total poverty.

“Sounds amazing,” Hawke said brightly. “Where were you last? Markham?”

“No, I came from, uh. From Ansburg,” Piper said. She swallowed hard and flipped to the second page of the menu.

“Ansburg!” Hawke laughed. She seemed oblivious to Piper’s growing distress, for which Piper was thankful. “I heard that place is a shithole this time of year.”

Piper looked up with a sudden grin. “I was told the exact same thing about Kirkwall before I came here!” she exclaimed.

They both burst into laughter again, and Hawke playfully flicked Piper’s menu. “Kirkwall is way better than Ansburg. You’ll see if you decide to stay a while! Now hang tight for a minute,” she said, and she nodded to the middle of the bar, where a couple of customers were waiting. “I have to go and, you know, do my job for a second.”

Piper snorted with amusement. “Sure,” she said, and Hawke bustled away.

A few minutes later, Hawke returned and took Piper’s food order with brisk efficiency. The cheerful bartender drifted back and forth between Piper and the other patrons who stepped up to the bar, flirting and making conversation as she filled their orders and made change and swiped credit cards, and in between their friendly bouts of chat, Piper watched Hawke working with a wistful kind of envy.

I wish I could be a bartender, Piper thought suddenly. Maybe Hawke was just making it look easy, and it was probably a shitty job on busy nights, but it seemed like so much fun: chatting with people, pouring drinks and listening to music, and just helping people have a good time after a long day of work. Piper had never really thought about bartending before. She supposed it was partly that she’d never stayed in one place long enough to do it. But it wasn’t like she was qualified, either. She’d never tended bar before.

At one point, while Piper was eating her sweet potato fries and Hawke was packing the dishwasher, Piper asked about her name. “So why do people call you ‘Hawk’?” she said. “Are you a birdwatcher?”

Hawke threw her head back and laughed. “No, you dumbass, it’s my last name,” she chortled. “But I should tell my brother you asked that. Then maybe he won’t be so pissy about not being the one that people call ‘Hawke’ around here.”

Piper smirked and raised one eyebrow. “What have you got against birdwatching?”  

“Nothing,” Hawke said innocently. “Actually, I should start telling people we’re a family of birdwatchers. It would be a nicer thing to be known for than ‘the family with the sick father’.” She shot Piper a rueful smirk as she swiftly put the wineglasses away.

Piper frowned. “‘Sick father’? Your dad is sick?”

“Yeah,” Hawke said. “He’s got cancer. Don’t worry about it,” she added, waving her hand casually before Piper could speak. “It’s… I mean, it’s not fine, but it’s… it is what it is. He’s getting treatment to make him more comfortable, so that’s good. My mom and brother aren’t dealing with it so well, but I mean, you can’t blame them, can you? It’s fucking cancer, after all.” She chuckled and gave Piper another rueful little smile. “Family, huh?”

Hawke’s smile was warm, but her eyes were sad, and a sudden, sharp pang of longing for her own late father speared Piper in the chest. She swallowed hard. “Yeah,” she said huskily. She took a hasty gulp of her water, then lowered her glass and returned to wolfing down her fries.

Hawke was quiet as she continued her tidying. When the dishwasher was empty, she leaned her elbows on the bar. “So. Now that we’ve got some food in you and you’ve heard my little sob story, are you going to tell me how you got those bruises?”

Piper lifted her eyes back to Hawke’s face. Her expression was still open and friendly, and very slightly expectant.

Piper swallowed her mouthful of sweet potato and smirked. “Bar fight,” she cheerfully lied. “You should see the other guy. Actually, best that you can’t. The sight of him would make you barf.”

Hawke grinned. “You know, I could almost believe it. I bet you’re a scrappy little thing when you’re cornered, aren’t you?”

Piper grinned. “Well shit, you already know me so well and I just got here.”

Hawke playfully fanned herself. “Why, thank you. Getting inside pretty Dalish girls’ heads is my special skill. Among other places.” She wiggled her eyebrows lasciviously.

Piper scoffed in amusement and threw a fry at her. Hawke snickered, then started wiping down the bar while Piper returned to her food, but Piper had lost a little bit of her appetite.

She knew Hawke didn’t believe her, and she was grateful that the friendly bartender wasn’t pushing any further. As the days since the Peronn incident had gone by, Piper had stopped feeling sorry for herself, and was starting to feel increasingly stupid instead.

It was just so fucking embarrassing. How naive did you have to be to withdraw thirty grand in cash from the bank, then go drinking? If it hadn’t been Peronn and Maara and Duncan who stole her money, it would have been someone else; Piper was convinced of this. Peronn was a liar and an asshole, sure, but Piper was an idiot - a stupid Dalish bumpkin, just as Maara had said - and she was just as much to blame.

Given how foolish she’d been, she didn’t really want to talk about what had happened. Besides, if she told someone what had happened, it would mean admitting how naive she’d been, and that would make it all the easier for her to be taken advantage of again.

And Piper never wanted to be betrayed like that again.

Hawke eventually floated back to the bar and refilled Piper’s water. “Listen,” she said, “I’m not going to pry, even though I’m dying for details. Just tell me this: should we go to the police? I’m friends with the police captain and her husband, and my brother is-”

Piper scoffed and waved her hand. “No no, of course not. I told you, it was a bar fight…”

She trailed off as Hawke gave her a skeptical look, then slumped on her stool and sighed. “I got beaten up in Ansburg,” she said. “So the Kirkwall police couldn’t do anything anyway.” She poked a cold fry in her garlic aioli and refused to look at Hawke.

Hawke was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Did you know the people who did it?”

Piper shrugged listlessly. “Sort of.” Not as well as I thought I did, obviously, she thought, with a pang of resentment at herself.

Hawke drummed her fingers on the bar, then reached over and plucked a sweet potato fry from Piper’s plate. “If you wanted to try and press charges, there’s this lawyer who helps people out. I don’t know him, but he’s kind of the notorious good guy in Kirkwall. Works for a big fancy firm during the day, helps out the little people who can’t afford a lawyer in his off time.” She shrugged and munched on the fry. “We could see if he could help you out.”

Piper wrinkled her nose. “You can’t be serious.”

Hawke swallowed her mouthful of sweet potato and raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

It was Piper’s turn to give Hawke a skeptical look. “Come on. A lawyer who just goes around helping people for no money? Nobody is that nice.”

After the words left her mouth, she belatedly realized how bitter she sounded, and she bit her tongue. But Hawke only laughed. “You know what, I thought the same thing. But I actually know someone that this goody-good lawyer helped. This kid Emile, who works at the best coffeeshop in town. His dad tried to get him imprisoned for possession of elfroot, and this Rutherford guy worked it out so he only got community service instead of jail time.”

Piper frowned, momentarily distracted. “Wait. Elfroot is illegal in Kirkwall?”

Hawke rolled her eyes. “Yeah. This city is so backwards in some ways. But my point is that this Cullen Rutherford guy is for real. He’s like Batman or something, but without the violence.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Or the mask and costume.” She waved her hand impatiently. “Whatever. What I’m trying to say is, maybe if you contact him about these assholes who beat you up…”

Piper shook her head. “No no, don’t worry about it. It was - I shouldn’t have - honestly, I just want to put it behind me.” She tried for a casual smile, though the topic of conversation was making her feel agitated. “It was basically a bar fight. I was asking for it, seriously. Don’t worry about it.” She bit another cold fry. “Besides,” she added around her mouthful of food, “I’ll get some badass scars from these hits. People will think I’m a pirate or something.”

Hawke’s narrow-eyed frown transformed into a smile, and she chuckled. “That is true. You’ll have some very sexy scars. I’m almost jealous.”

Piper relaxed as Hawke latched onto her attempt at levity. Then a man’s voice broke into their conversation.

“Hawke, bad news.” A dwarf in business-casual clothes - with the shirt amusingly half-unbuttoned - approached Hawke with a frown. “Sabine just gave notice. She’ll be gone in two weeks.”

“Ah shit,” Hawke sighed. Then she shrugged. “It was just a matter of time. Her kid is such a fucking brat.” Then she turned to Piper. “Hey, are you looking for a job?”

Piper raised her eyebrows in surprise, and the dwarf cleared his throat loudly. “Hawke, remind me again. Who’s the person in charge of hiring here?”

Hawke turned a sunny smile on the dwarf. “Oh Varric, I’m just screening candidates for you. You should be thanking me!”

Varric - who was clearly Hawke’s boss - sighed and shook his head, then made eye contact with Piper. His eyebrows rose as his gaze drifted over her battered face. “You all right, kid?”

Piper sighed internally, but gave Varric a devil-may-care grin and leaned her elbows on the bar. “I’m great. You should see the other guy.”

“She’s very scrappy,” Hawke added cheerfully, and Piper shot her a quick grateful glance.

Varric smirked. “A rowdy one, are you?” He gave Piper an appraising look, then shrugged affably. “Well, feel free to apply for the position. This place really needs a second full-time bartender.” He tipped her a quick salute, then sauntered away.

Piper opened her mouth to protest - she wasn’t a bartender, she couldn’t apply - but Hawke punched her arm playfully. “You’d better apply!” she said. “Sabine was good, but she was boring. I feel like you and I would have a shit ton of fun behind the bar.”

Piper eyed Hawke’s smiling face. Hawke was being so nice, and she seemed to really give a shit about what had happened to Piper, and it was all so… suspicious.

Piper ducked her head and tugged on a strand of her wavy silver hair. “Why are you trying to help me out?” she asked. “You don’t even know me. I could really have beat someone up, for all you know.”

Hawke shrugged and leaned her elbows on the bar. “I don’t know. You just seem like you could use the do-over.” She shrugged. “Shitty things happen to good people sometimes, and it sucks,” she said matter-of-factly. “Doesn’t mean everything has to be shitty forever, right? Or else what’s the point of living?”

Piper stared at her dumbly. Hawke was so… optimistic. And it wasn’t like Hawke’s life was great either, if her dad had cancer. Piper wistfully remembered feeling that optimistic. A mere three days ago, she’d been so hopeful, so happy, thinking her dreams were coming true…

Her chest hurt. Her throat felt swollen. She swallowed hard, then laughed half-heartedly. “I guess.”

“Good,” Hawke said brightly. “Then you’ll apply for the job?”

Piper laughed again, then shrugged helplessly. “I don’t… I’m not a bartender, I’ve never tended bar before.”

“Neither did I before I started working here,” Hawke reasoned. “You’ll pick it up in no time, I promise.”

Piper gazed at Hawke’s hopeful face, then finally laughed and shrugged. “Ah, what the hell. Sure, I’ll apply.”

Hawke snapped her fingers happily. “I knew you’d come to your senses,” she said. She reeled off Varric’s email so Piper could send him her resumé, then gestured at Piper’s empty plate. “You done with-”

“Thanks, Hawke,” Piper blurted. “I, uh… just… you know. Thanks.” She rubbed her nose awkwardly to try and ward off the stinging of her eyes.

Hawke smiled slowly at her, then waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t seen my bar dancing. And believe me, I love dancing on the bar.”

“So do I!” Piper said in surprise. “Like that routine in-”

“Coyote Ugly?” Hawke finished excitedly, and Piper beamed at her, and then they both burst out laughing again.

Hawke delicately wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye. “Damn, I’m glad you left Ansburg. Why’d you decide to come to Kirkwall, anyway?”

“Oh,” Piper hiccuped. “Uh, I saw a poster for some band I’ve never heard of, doing a show here tomorrow night, so I thought I’d come check it out.”

Hawke nodded. “New band, new place, new start?”

Piper smiled. “Exactly.”

Hawke smiled approvingly. “What’s the name of the band?”

“Blightfall.”

“Oh!” Hawke straightened. “We’re going to that show - me and my friends, Merrill and Anders. I know the lead guitarist, so we’ll get to stand right at the front. Want to come with us?”

Piper stared at her in surprise. “How do you know everyone?” she asked incredulously.

Hawke snorted a laugh. “What do you mean?”

Piper shrugged. “First it’s the police captain, then this Batman-lawyer guy-”

“No no, I don’t know him, I just know about him,” Hawke interrupted.

Piper shook her head impatiently. “And now it’s a member of this band I wanted to see tomorrow. You know everyone!”

Hawke lifted her shoulders and batted her eyelashes flirtatiously. “What can I say, I’ve got a magnetic charm. Everyone flocks to me.”

Piper snickered.  “You’re so full of shit.”

Hawke threw her head back and laughed. “And you know me so well already,” she quipped. She tilted her head quizzically. “So, how about it, Pipes? Want to come to Blightfall with us tomorrow?”

Piper eyed her cautiously. An invitation to a show with a new group of people - people she didn’t know and had no reason to trust, and who could so easily betray her…

But it was just a concert. Going to a concert with a new acquaintance didn’t make her stupid or naive.

Did it?

Piper took a deep breath. New beginnings, she told herself. I have to start somewhere. It was as Hawke said, after all: if she couldn’t move past the shitty things that Peronn had done, what was the point?

She forcefully shoved the thought of Peronn aside and lifted her gaze to Hawke. “Sure,” she said. “Sounds like fun.”

Read more on Piper and Cullen on AO3!

[wyrdsistersofthedas]

"Forbidden" Lore, “Forgotten” Questions, Part 1

Thesis: The Forbidden Ones and the Forgotten Ones are two distinct groups with different goals and means of pursuing them in ancient Elvhenan.  Although their paths may well have crossed with dramatic consequences, careful readings of the source materials suggest that ancient elves, especially the Evanuris, considered them to be different in purpose and nature.

Premise: The Forbidden Ones are spirits/demons who can take on physical, tangible forms, but who’ve never forgot that they are spirits/demons or chose to present themselves as mortal beings.  They may try “blend in” with the various cultures in Thedas in order to “feed”, but they always knew that they were beings from the Fade.  

Conjecture: The Forgotten Ones were elves who knew that the Evanuris were not gods, but mages whose great power came from the hearts of Titans.  This knowledge led the Forgotten Ones to “dwell” in the Abyss searching for power that would make them the equals of the elvhen gods even while denying their divinity.  Fearing that the elven people would learn the truth and that their power would be undermined, the Evanuris called the Forgotten Ones “dark gods” to explain their power, but eventually waged a war against them that threatened to destroy Elvhenan.  

That’s a lot to parse, but that’s what makes it fun!  This will probably end up being two posts since I can be relied on to overthink the shit out of all this!

“Forbidden” Knowledge

The nature of the Forbidden Ones isn’t really much of a question at this point, given that we have met three of them, but it is worth examining who they are in order to compare and contrast that information with what we know about the Forgotten Ones.  Plus, I get to talk about Imshael.

Michel looked at the man, and at the circle of stones.  “You’re a demon.”

“Spirit,” the man said, smiling broadly.  “Please, call me Imshael.”

....”I’ve heard of things like you,” Michel said, trying to remember the old stories.  “You’re a desire demon.”

“Choice. Spirit.”  Imshael’s smile never wavered.  “Do I look like a desire demon?  Do you want me to strip down and put on something filmy and sheer?”  At Michel’s glare, the demon sighed.  “There are all kinds of spirits, boy.  Spirits of love, and honor, and valor, and justice...”  He waved a hand absently, turning to pace along the edge of the circle.  “And yes, also rage, and hunger, and pride.  We all carry some connection to this world to bring us through the Veil.”  (The Masked Empire, pgs. 225-226) 

Delightful, isn’t he?  The few scenes he’s in are some of the most...flavorful in The Masked Empire.  They are also very informative.  They give us insights into to why even powerful beings, like the Evanuris, thought that Imshael, Gaxkang, Xebenkeck, and the Formless One were dangerous.   Here’s a list of what we’ve seen all or some of them do:

The Forbidden Ones not only fed on complex mortal emotions/behaviors, but they are capable of arranging situations that test the limits of the people they encounter.

They also have knowledge beyond the reach of the average spirit/demon, which they likely gained in part due to their great age, but also because they have abilities no other spirits seem to have mastered (Except perhaps the Evanuris, if Decima’s theory about the origin of the elves proves true).  Some of their “forbidden” knowledge likely includes:

They totally have dirt on the Evanuris.  They appear to have been allies at one time and there’s nothing like former “friends” to know what was going on behind the scenes.

Being so long lived, it is possible that they have knowledge of other major players in Thedas history, especially since Gaxkang and Xebenkeck seem to have been summoned across the Veil hundreds of years ago, possibly in Tevinter and Kirkwall respectively. (Am I the only one who thinks that Tarohne’s declarations about the Maker being a hoax and being Andraste deluded might be linked to Xebenkeck?  Probably.)

The “secrets” of blood magic

Knowledge of the inner workings of the eluvian network and the ability to manipulate eluvians to some degree

How to “cultivate” red lyrium as well as how to “cure” someone infected with it

Knowledge about the Titans and their abilities since they seem to have abandoned their elven allies to “flee where the Earth could not reach”

Their accumulated knowledge has led to them being sought out by various groups and individuals through the ages in order to learn what the Forbidden Ones know, which allows them to them be summoned across the Veil at various times in Thedas’ past.

Their only loyalty seems to be to themselves (although they seem to have some comradery with each other given that Imshael calls out to Gaxkang and Xebenkeck when his ass is being handed to him in battle).

Although they have a preferred manner of fulling their purpose/feeding, they may be able to transform themselves into various types of demons to fight more effectively

They can take on a physical, tangible form without it “sticking” to their spirit essence (unlike Cole)

Let’s focus on this last detail for just a minute longer.  Imshael forms, reforms, and shucks off his body several times over the course of a few days in the Masked Empire, adapting his ‘essence’ to whatever his current situation calls for with no seeming cost to him mentally or physically. Examples:

While he is trapped in the elgan’arla he has shape, but no substance:

The demon left no prints in the grass where he walked.  His black coat was finely tailored, and the buckles of his black boots glittered. (The Masked Empire, pg. 225)

Once the elgan’arla is destroyed, he has shape and substance:

And with a tiny roll of thunder, the light faded, and Imshael stood up.   The grass were he had knelt showed footprints.  (The Masked Empire, pg. 259)

In pure spirit form, he has no shape or substance:

Celene looked at Mihris in disgust.  “Possessed by a demon?”

“Spirit,” Mihris corrected, and then caught herself and chuckled.  When she spoke again, her voice had deepened to that of the man who’d stood in the circle.  “Ah, pity.  You’re a bit more cunning than you look.”.....

Then light flared around Mihris, and she fell to her knees, her staff flickering back to icy white.  For a moment, a smoky shape flickered around Mihris, a haze that clung to her body, and then it was shooting across the room through one of the mirrors on the wall.  (The Masked Empire, pg. 355)

Imshael flicks from a visible, but not tangible, human like form to a corporeal being back to a nebulous spirit as if it was nothing.  And it is likely that all the Forbidden Ones could do the same in the days of Arlathan, given the warning found in the Vir Dirthara.  This is no small feat!  Even special spirits like Cole, Justice, and Wynne’s spirit of Faith can’t do this with such ease.  

These abilities would undoubtedly cause people, even elves living in a pre-Veil Thedas, to be afraid or at least extremely wary.   Felessan, an ancient elf with considerable magical abilities who was a close companion of Fen’Harel, recognizes Imshael immediately and Imshael likewise knows Felassan.  They even seem friendly to a point, but Felessan tells Empress Celene what he believes will happen to their merry band if they antagonize Imshael too much:

“Go after him.  See how that works out for you.”  At Celene’s glare, he sighed.  “If we harassed him, he would see which of us made the most noise when our skin was ripped off.” (The Masked Empire, pg. 260)

Considering Imshael was going off at that very moment to massacre an entire Dalish clan just because they had summoned and annoyed him, Felessan wasn’t exaggerating.  If the other Forbidden Ones had the same abilities, they would have been special snowflakes indeed!

Forbidden Truth?

But for all of this power and knowledge, the Forbidden Ones never do one important thing: They never claim to be gods.  The openly declare themselves to be spirits. Take this passage from World of Thedas 2 in which Imshael...plays with his food while explaining why he thinks “demon” is an unfair word:

Lots of fascinating details in this piece, but some stand out parts for the lore in this meta:  

In Inquisition, The Masked Empire, and this short story, Imshael is obsessive about people getting his purpose and nature right.  Call him a demon and he will always respond that he is a spirit.  It is also worth noting that he refers to himself as “one of the Forbidden Ones.”  Imshael revels in that title, in fact.  If someone were to call him a “Forgotten One” he would almost undoubtedly correct them.  And no one who has met Imshael is going to forget him or get that detail wrong.

In fact no one in Thedas’ long history says that the Forbidden Ones are the Forgotten Ones, save one poor bastard about to head off to his untimely death in Kirkwall.  And even then, Brother Kerowen wasn’t sure what all of the information he and the other members of the Band of Three had uncovered meant.  So he is hardly a reliable source.  We need more codices to figure this out; the older (in Thedas time), the better.

“The first of the magus cast themselves deep in the Fade in search of answers and power, always power. They found the forbidden ones – Xebenkeck, Imshael, Gaxkang the Unbound, and The Formless One. Many conversations were had and much of the fabric of the world revealed. And thus the magic of blood was born.” ―Unknown mage

There is some disagreement in Thedas about the source of blood magic.  This codex claims it was the Forbidden Ones who first taught it, and this certainly would have made them all the more alluring to pre-Tevinter mages.  Others say it was the Old God Dumat and still others say it was elves from Elvhenan who taught humans blood magic.  

Point is, mortals know they can learn blood magic from demons like the Forbidden Ones (“Spi...” Shut it, Imshael!), but they may not have been only source of this information, and if there is one thing people like to do it is conflate similar things together to make them easy to understand.  The Forbidden Ones get associated with blood magic and may have been mixed up with the Old Gods who may also have been lumped in with the Forgotten Ones and thus connected to the Elven Pantheon.  Andrastians would look at the elven gods, Forgotten Ones, Titans, etc. and believe they were all demons.  Think Sera when she encounters anything not Andrastian and you have the right idea.   

The potential nuances and subtle differences between these different groups would be lost on most Chantry scholars who would assume they were all are demons.  It stands to reason that the Band of Three could be thinking along those lines as well. I hope, however, that Vahnel (the Dalish apostate in the group) put up a good argument to the contrary!  Dalish lore has a lot of nuance that suggests these groups were not all just demons. I’m starting to agree with Imshael that demons get blamed for everything and that just isn’t always the case in Thedas.  

(BTW - I personally suspect that the Forbidden Ones, the Old Gods, and elves from Elvhenan all played a role in teaching humanity blood magic.  There undoubtedly was enough shit hitting the fan in the 2000 years between the creation of the Veil and the fall of Arlathan to cause more than a few to turn to want to learn blood magic.  The Chant of Light has some very telling passages that make it seem like lots of people at different times turned to blood magic as a source of power.  I’ll be writing about those passages in Threnodies in one of the asks that lead to this post.  Stay tuned!)

Another interesting detail from Imshael’s story from above is his casual mentions of the Maker. Notice his flippant attitude when he talks to his prisoner about their faith.  He is totally toying with his captive, invoking the Maker in a way that, on the surface, sounds like it could be comforting (demon believing in the Maker and all), but it comes across as mocking and faith shaking.  Not what his prisoner needs right before deciding what choice to follow.  There are not many more world shaking things than for a person of faith to have that belief undermined in a moment of crisis.  Xebenkeck may also have been undermining people’s faith in the Maker.  Seems like a theme with them, although I can’t be sure without more info about Gaxkang and the Formless One.  

Why this may be important, however, is whether or not they pulled this same cynical line with the Evanuris.  Imagine being the Evanuris and having, potentially, four extremely powerful demons suggesting to your worshipers that you may not be divine.  That could get sticky really quick and might provide another way of looking at the public service announcement they posted in the Vir Dirthara.   

Think about it.  The Vir Dirthara is basically the public library of Elvhenan and the Evanuris posted this message there prominently enough that it catches the eye of the Inquisitor some 8,000-ish years later!  And it is such Evanuris propaganda! 

Sure, the Forbidden Ones probably did drop their bodies and hauled ass to the deepest, Fade-iest parts of Fade when the going got tough against the Titans (probably, since they went where “the Earth could not reach” and they were “Forbidden from the Earth that is our right”), but this declaration also has the added bonuses of getting rid of some pesky spirits who had been allies of the Elven gods for who knows how long.  Allies who may well have known that the Evanuris were more akin to the elves worshiping them than not.  

By making Imshael and company the Forbidden Ones, the Evanuris were banishing potential threats to their rule while making their followers more dependant on their gods for “protection”.  Perhaps this suspicion was also part of what twisted the Forbidden Ones from their purpose, “perverting” them as Solas would say, and made them appear more demon-y than they may have been before.  Pure speculation, of course, but fun speculation!  

The Forbidden Ones’ banishment from the lands of the Evanuris may also have had the ironic side effect of making them damn near immortal...even for beings that are already basically immortal!  If our lore mining and speculations in the Death in the Fade meta is valid, then it is possible that the Forbidden Ones will be back some day.  If enough humans, elves, qunari, etc. know who the Forbidden Ones are and actively seek them out, then they may reform or be reinvented by other spirits.  (Read that meta if you want to know how it may work.)  

Who knows how many people in Thedas still know who the Forbidden Ones are.  And who knows how many Fell Grimoires still exist to ensure their story endures.  The Evanuris may have given the Forgotten Ones such infamy that they will endure as long as future generations of desperate or despotic Thedosians seek them out in the deepest parts of the Fade.   (“Nothing like labeling something as “Forbidden” to make it all the more irresistible, eh.”)

One final note before we wrap this thing up.  Demons generally don’t do a good job of disguising their nature in the unchanging, physical world.  They can’t.  Their fixation on whatever feeling draws them across the Veil and the difficulty average spirits would have maintaining their forms in the unchanging world means that they typically have to rely on tricks, illusions, or possessing people to hide that they are spirits.  And yet someone as marginally schooled in arcane lore as Michel de Chevin recognized Imshael as a demon (“For the last time: Choice.  Spirit!’) within moments of their meeting, likely because of his Chantry upbringing along with stories from his elven mother.  

If Michel can’t be fooled, how in the Void are elves, especially ancient elves who lived side by side with spirits, going to mistake the Forgotten Ones for gods on par with the Evanuris if they really are spirits like the Forbidden Ones?  (“There, Imshael, are ya happy?!”)  It seems unlikely that they would!  

The Forgotten Ones are something else.

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

And yup!  I need to break this post in half, dear followers.  Y’all deserve a break.  Worried about missing Part 2 since we have anything BUT a regular posting schedule here at the Wyrd Sisters?  Please follow us and get our notifications.  You won’t be spammed.  We promise!

Thanks for reading!

-MM

PS - $5 says that Solas was carefully hiding his “true” nature from Imshael in this scene.  If Imshael recognized Felessan after thousands of years, he surely would have known who the Dread Wolf was.  I wonder if Solas’ line here is also a subtle dig at Imshael and company abandoning the Evanuris during a crisis.  I’ve never allowed Imshael to walk away from this encounter, but if I ever do, it will be because I want to see if Solas does about our Choice Spirit.   PSS - 

“They felt no need to rush when life was endless. They worshiped their gods for months at a time. Decisions came after decades of debate, and an introduction could last for years. From time to time, our ancestors would drift into centuries-long slumber, but this was not death, for we know they wandered the Fade in dreams.” (Codex Entry: Arlathan, Part One)

I can just imagine Imshael reading this codex in a monotone with a “blah, blah, blah...boring!” at the end.  Banishment was probably the best thing the Evanuris could have done for the Forbidden Ones, and Imshael in particular.  The elves who sought him out after the ban would have been motivated to make their choices far more efficiently than was the elvhen norm.  Shit.  I need to go read some Imshael fanfiction now.  

“Forbidden” Thoughts (Part ½)

“Forbidden” Lore, “Forgotten” Questions (Part 1)

“Forbidden” Lore, “Forgotten” Questions (Part 2)

[willbeshot]

NAME: Reaver VARRIC’S NICKNAME: Up to any Varric that I interact with! AGE: 286 during the main game, 289 during trespasser - though he isn’t present for this RACE: Human CLASS: Rogue SPECIALIZATION: Primarily archery ( uses a crossbow ), but can dual wield just as easily 

RECRUITMENT QUEST:

Reaver is first encountered at the winter palace in randomized locations during the “Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts” quest where he is an optional person to speak with. If the inquisitor manages to find him and speak with him, he will state that he finds the ordeal between Celene and Gaspard to be rather boring, that he truly doesn’t care who comes into power as his place on the court has been solidified, and that he finds the inquisitor and their work to be interestingly entertaining. After all of his dialogue options have been exhausted, he will say that he has “business” to and seemingly disappear once you leave the area you found him in. 

Upon returning to Skyhold, the inquisitor will find that their quarters have been broken into. Nothing will be stolen, but a letter addressed to them accompanied by a single red rose will be found on their bed. The letter will read as such:

“My dearest inquisitor, I did so enjoy our little chat at the empress’ soiree-- A shame we could not converse longer. My work can just be so time consuming. I’m sure that you of all people understand that. Unfortunately, I am not writing this letter to merely spew pleasantries. No, I’m afraid that one of your own has proven that their loyalties lie elsewhere and not strictly with you. I would have taken action against them myself, but I doubt you would want someone not affiliated with you handling your own personal business.  By the time you read this, I will have already found myself in the bustling city of Val Royeaux--  Should you wish to investigate this matter further, you may seek me out there. --And before I forget, your guards are terrible. I managed to sneak all the way into your private chambers and not a single one of them noticed me! You should perhaps do something about that. Yours, Reaver.”

If the inquisitor did not speak to him at the winter palace, the initial part of his letter will read differently; basically saying that he was busy with political matters all night and that he feels terrible for missing out on an opportunity to talk with them.

Heading to Val Royeaux, the inquisitor will be met by a servant of Reaver’s stating that Reaver had instructed that he wait for them, and that he was to lead them to the mansion in which Reaver is currently staying in. On their way to the mansion, the inquisitor and their companions will be attacked by a group of soldiers wearing inquisition armor. In the middle of this fight, Reaver will make an appearance and jump to their aid. Once the fight is over, Reaver will invite them inside in order to speak with them privately. There, he will say that he had heard what appeared to be an inquisition spy speaking with someone from Tevinter, and that from what he overheard, the details that were being shared were seemingly details that would likely need to be kept private. If the inquisitor does not follow this lead, Reaver will not be recruited. If they choose to follow up on this information, they will be sent to Emprise du Lion. There, they will confront this supposed traitor. When being confronted, the traitor will attempt to flee, but Reaver will shoot an arrow through their lower leg and this will cause them to fall. There, the inquisitor has the option to take them back to skyhold for judgement or to kill them on the spot. Once an option has been chosen, Reaver will say that he has found that working alongside the inquisitor is incredibly exciting and that he would love to accompany them further. This will ultimately lead to the inquisitor deciding whether or not to recruit him.

If the traitor was taken back to skyhold and Reaver has been recruited, a “sit in judgement” will ensue. The traitor will confess to his crimes, but say that he had been paid to do what he did. The inquisitor may either conscript the traitor to the wardens ( if they have not been banished ), lock him up in prison, or have him executed. Sparing the traitor will receive medium disapproval, but executing him will result in heavy approval.

PERSONAL QUEST + TAROT CARDS:

Intially, upon recruiting him, Reaver’s card is the seven of coins reversed. This symbolizes Voided ambition, vanity, cupidity, exaction, usury. It may also signify the possession of skill, in the sense of the ingenious mind turned to cunning and intrigue.

Once his approval has been maxed and the inquisitor has switched him out of their party, they will find that they will be unable to have him join up with them once more. If they are away from Skyhold, returning there will cause them to learn why that is.

Reaver has betrayed them.

The inquisitor will be met by an injured soldier who will say that as soon as the inquisitor and their companions left, Reaver had promptly made his way to where the spies typically were and had not only slaughtered most of the ones that he saw ( though several managed to escape and likely ran off to tell Leliana ), but had also seemingly taken various documents upon doing so. As he was leaving, two soldiers attempted attempted to stop him, but the first had his throat slit, and the second - the one relaying the information - had been stabbed in the shoulder; so they ultimately failed to stop him from fleeing. From there, the soldier isn’t sure where he went, but is sure that he left Skyhold. After relaying that information, the soldier will collapse and ultimately die on the spot.

With Skyhold now in utter chaos, the inquisitor will meet with a furious Leliana before ultimately continuing on with their investigation of Reaver’s mess. If the inquisitor insists that she sends more of her people after him, Reaver will eventually kill those which she had sent and leave their bodies scattered around in various locations outside of Skyhold. This will also make it more difficult to keep Leliana unhardened. Once a plan of action regarding the spies has been chosen, the investigation will continue and several important details will be brought to light:

The traitor from his recruitment quest was one of his own men. Reaver had implanted him within the inquisitions ranks back at Haven and once he had been properly integrated into them, had managed to strike from within. This was how he was able to gain the inquisitor’s trust and ultimately convince them to let him join. If you spared the “traitor”,  the traitor himself will tell you this. Reaver had been smuggling out lyrium and mages/templars since he joined. It was a slow process, as taking out too much lyrium or too many mages/templars would be noticed rather quickly, but over time he had managed to steal a great deal of resources. No one was going to notice a few people go missing here and there, and the missing lyrium was typically thought to be lost during transportation to Skyhold. Reaver is an agent of Corypheus. He had been supplying Corypheus with lyrium and bodies even before the conclave. 

He will also leave a letter accompanied by a black rose this time in the same place he left his initial one. The note will state that while he had enjoyed himself and that running around with the inquisitor had proven to be fun for a while, he was now bored and had claimed everything that both he and Corypheus wanted; which meant that he was now going to leave. He would then state not to try to find him unless they wished to die, and that their guards were still lacking in skill.

From here, the inquisitor will track him down to the exhalted plains and be forced to face him in combat. Once captured, a “sit in judgement” will become availible. Due to his immortality given to him by Imshael, a fact which will now be known, death will not be an option for him. The inquisitor may either lock him away in prison or hand him over to Leliana to do what she pleases with him. However, no matter the option, REAVER WILL ALWAYS ESCAPE A SECOND TIME. And unfortunately, he will not be caught again and will ultimately flee to Tevinter.

After this quest is done, Reaver’s tarot becomes the seven of swords. Indicating deception and betrayal.

LOCATION IN SKYHOLD: He can be found either with Vivienne, Dorian, or in the garden.

APPROVAL: Reaver will ultimately approve of the inquisitor being greedy and aggressive. He will also approve if the inquisitor states that keeping circles in place is a good idea. DISAPPROVAL: Reaver won’t like if the inquisitor is too passive, or too focused on being good. He doesn’t care about the needs and rights of others, so focusing too heavily on that will cause him to disapprove.

[bunabi]

I honestly love Merrill. Unlike the Egg she wants very explicitly to help her people in the present. I can't see her being interested in wiping out everything and completely starting over. She spends years carefully trying to piece together elven history and restoring lost technology. But she's rebuilding for the sake of modern elves, not ancient ones. She's a mortal woman doing everything she can with what she has, and that's what makes her and Velanna so much more compelling than Solas.

e x a c t l y

I’d even go so far as to say Merrill and Velanna have a more sympathetic journey as far as exploring their relationship with their culture than Solas ever will at this rate. I’ll have to throw my girl Briala in there because Weekes did her dirty too.

Because after decades of admiring the Dalish and being proud of the strong heritage linked with them Weekes not only severed it, but also turned her against them, which resulted in the mess with Clan Virnehn being killed and Mihris being possessed by Imshael.

There was an opportunity for Briala to learn from them, ally with them, and for that to make her stronger after years of diminishing that side of her identity while working the palace, but it was traded for a reveal that they were really ungrateful jerks all along and her ancestors were “no better than Tevinter :(”.

Deadass if I ever met Weekes, if I ever had a platform to ask one question, it would be why he went this route twice and why he felt it was better than either character claiming and appreciating their people.

I’d also ask about the timing he chooses to reveal the falsely-rose-tinted past of Arlathan. Yeah yeah Solas choked last-minute or whatever backstory, but why choose that moment for Lavellan to learn about vallaslin being slave markings. Why break Briala’s spirit just when her dreams of finding the Dalish were realized.

Defying the expectations of your characters makes for interesting scenes, but when pride in a lost past is all your character has to move them forward its just punching down at that point. And having them divorce from their people that easily, that quickly, is completely unrealistic. “We try to preserve  our culture and this is what we keep; remnants of a time we were no better than Tevinter” my entire ass. I should denote I don’t hate the man, I don’t know Patrick Weekes, he’s not even the one to fully blame for the direction DA is taking on this subject, but his handling of this specific topic has been incredulous at best aaaaand I don’t enjoy it.

This got long-winded....I’m so sorry...in short Merrill and Velanna are great in my opinion, imo, for me and myself*. 

[maxx-the-queer]

I just woke up, here's more trans allies who hate transphobes and would kick their asses, in Dragon Age:

Bodahn and Sandal

WYNNE

Orana

Jowan

Arl Eamon

Your Trainer

The Knight Enchanter Instructor

Keeper Marethari

Istimaethorial

Imshael the "Choice Spirit"

The big old Druffalo from the Hinterlands quest

All of Flemeth's daughters

Gamlen Amell

Bhelen Aeducan

Leandra Hawke

Gorim Saelac

Grand Enchanter Fiona

Lord Seeker Lucius

Helissma the Tranquil

All of Kinloch Hold's mages AND templars (because they may have problems with each other, but hating transphobes unites them)

Briala

Warden-Commander Clarel

Alistair again, but he's King this time

Stroud

The Viddasala

Ben-Hassrath spies too

Every unnamed NPC

The entirety of Stone-bear Hold

Svarah Sunhair

Storvacker

Every DA:4 character we haven't met yet.

And of course, Dorian Pavus ✨️

This is yet another reminder that transphobia has no place in Dragon Age 💖

Since there seems to be some transphobia lurking around in DA tags on tumblr rn, I'm going to list characters who are trans allies and would kick the shit out of transphobes:

The Iron Fucking Bull. It'd be on sight, lemme tell you.

Dorian Pavus

Varric Tethras

The Warden.

Fenris

Anders

Isabela

Cassandra

Leliana

ALISTAIR

Carver and Bethany Hawke

Zevran

Lord Woolsley, that special ram from that one quest in Redcliffe

The Warden and Hawke's Mabari

Probably Corypheus himself

Even crusty dusty Solas

All of the Chargers. All of them.

Maevaris Tilani

Krem Aclassi

Maryden the Bard

The Iron Bull, again

Josephine

Hawke

Cullen

Merrill

Flemeth

Flemeth again, but in dragon form

The Fereldan Frostback

Brother Genitivi

Loghain probably too, why not

Sera. Sera. SERA.

DORIAN PAVUS

Blackwall

Morrigan

The Nightmare Demon from the Fade

Oghren

Sten

The fucking Hinterland Bears

Felix Alexius

The Arishok

Justice

Master Dennett

Anora

The entirety of Clan Lavellan

The Valo-Kas Mercenary Company

Sebastian Vael

Shale

The Archdemon

Madame de Fer, aka Vivienne the fucking badass

Aveline

Donnic

Malcolm Hawke

Abelas

The ghost of Mythal

Bianca Davri

COLE. COLE WOULD ANNIHILATE TRANSPHOBES--

The Requisition Officers

All of the Inquisitor from all of the backgrounds

Dorian, for a third time, Fucking Pavus.

In short: Transphobia has no place in the Dragon Age universe

[5lazarus]

The Old Gods of Serault

Wanderingly aimlessly through life after death, Felassan is offered a series of bad choices. Imshael guides his way through. A @black-emporium-exchange gift for RosellaWrites. Read the other works in the AO3 Collection here! Read the story on Archive of Our Own here.

Death, Fen’Harel has always said, is but the next adventure, which is the wonderful sort of thing immortals say but do not truly mean. Felassan, being dead, is mostly bored. There is not much to do when you are sundered from your body. Felassan drifts across Thedas and wonders: why the fuck did the Forbidden Ones lose a whole war for this. He sorely misses his physical form.

In the Crossroads he attempts to get Briala’s attention from his place stuck between Fade and Waking Plain, but alas! The People are sundered from their own senses since Fen’Harel raised the Veil. She does not notice him. He amuses himself for about a week, following her around. Then she picks up a new lover, this time thank Mythal not a human, and he decides it’s time to leave her alone.

In the Dales he runs into Mihris. She spits on him and shoots him with lightning, which hurts, and laughs when he screams. He can taste the ozone in the air as she readies another thunderbolt, which would surely shatter the last remnants of his spirit-consciousness. For all that he misses his body, he likes being around to watch things happening.

Felassan thinks fast, and then moans loudly. “Oh!” he cries. “Do that again.”

Mihris lowers her staff. “By the Dread Wolf, you like that?”

Felassan moans to hide the laugh building in his throat. “I just want to feel alive again!” It comes out more plaintive than pleading, but it does its job. In disgust Mihris leaves him, and prays that the Dread Wolf takes him.

“Been there, done that,” Felassan says to her back. “Nothing to write home about.” That is, of course, a lie, but a dead man has his pride. Besides, having no flesh, he is no longer concerned with the demands of the flesh. He sighs, considering what joys he has lost, and moves on.

In Serault he has more fun. The Veil is thin there, so it is easier to interfere with daily life, and Felassan has always enjoyed being a public menace. He whispers revolution in the very exciting dreams of the Well-Read Pig-Farmer. He makes the shadows dance in the Serault glass the Scornful Sorceress attempts to unlock. She has the taint of Mythal in her, he notices: poor soul. However much she plays at making eluvians, she will never have control over where they take her.

In the workshop, Felassan remarks, “Don’t worry, da’len. The Dread Wolf will set you free, and you’ll live to complain about it.” She does not even look up. Mortals are so very dull sometimes. The interest lies, of course, in how they grow and change, over countless generations. Felassan hadn’t been as interested in the petty wars of the dwarves and men as Fen’Harel had been, and it is funny in a deadly sort of way that this is the hill he chose to die on. He looks at the Scornful Sorceress and murmurs, “Come on. Be a little more fun.”

She gets herself banished from Serault but runs off with the glassworks anyway, and Felassan laughs the whole while, following her trail into the Applewood. The Tirashan has always been weird. The apples guarding the outskirts are new, and not nearly as intoxicating as the ones Sylaise’s people cultivated, but still Felassan trails a hand through the leaves and the giddy red fruit. He can almost taste them. He cannot, of course, so he sits down next to Mythal’s odd daughter and watches her chomp down on apple after apple with vicarious enjoyment.

“Oh, you’re going to make yourself so sick,” he says, amused. “Too much knowledge, da’len. You can’t binge it like that.”

The Fade-memories of the Applewood take her at once, and she shrieks as she begins to hallucinate through all the different hunts. Felassan watches for a bit. The memories leave her sensible enough to drink and shit, and once she begins to recover, he wanders deeper into the woods. Fade-touched fruit has always been used for initiates; the Scornful Sorceress seems to be tripping over rituals that will always overwhelm her. It is a shame that the preparation has been lost. It means the knowledge is gone, too.

Deeper in the woods the Veil thins, and Felassan begins to feel skin again. The leaf litter of the forest is springy under his feet. He draws in an impossible breath. The air tastes hungry, sucking greedily at his lungs. He flickers, aching, and then shakes his hands out. There is another person’s will at work here, threatening his thoughtform.

“Hey,” he calls into the deepening woods. “Who’s there?”

Imshael comes sauntering out of the twilight. He wears the body of the Seneschal of Serault: hair close-shaven, face unremarkably middle-aged, the frame fleshy but not in the way. Felassan groans. He likes Imshael, he really does, he’s always enjoyed partying with the Forbidden Ones—but it’s better when sacrifice is codified. This age ignores all their laws, and Imshael is happy to exploit those loopholes.

Imshael cocks the body’s eyebrow and says, “Dread Wolf got your tongue?”

Felassan says gloomily, “A fucking lightning strike.” He does not tell him that Fen’Harel is still too weak to banish and disintegrate spirits in the Fade. He likes Imshael, he really does. He’s always enjoyed how the disembodied spirit manages to claw his way through history, better than the rest of them from Arlathan, really. He respects the impulse for chaos—but the wanton destruction, the entrain-arrangement, and general lack of empathy? If Fen’Harel deems it necessary to disintegrate the will that is Imshael, Felassan will not complain.

Imshael says, “Tut, tut. Serves you right for believing the Old Wolf’s lies. This age is so much meaner than when we were young.” He stretches the body’s grin a little too wide for its face, pulling the edges of its mouth back as if he had stuck fishhooks in the corners. “I love it. People are so much more desperate than they were under Mythal’s justice. And there are so many new ways to entice them—not just the old ‘power, riches, virgins’ trick, I can offer them ‘lost knowledge.’ Like crop rotation.”

Felassan says, “You know about crop rotation?”

Imshael shrugs.

Felassan begins to laugh. Of course Imshael doesn’t know about crop rotation. Felassan doesn’t know anything about crop rotation. They’re spirits now, why the fuck would they know about crop rotation? He says, admiringly, “By the Dread Wolf, you are such a dick.”

Imshael says, “I don’t even need to try anymore. With your old master breaking out of the Fade, I just get to kick back, relax, and let the choosers come to me.” He forces the left eyelid of the corpse he inhabits to twitch a wink; the muscles pull at the distorted smile. Imshael lets the face relax. “Bodies—so many choices, so many little muscles to twitch! How did you handle it, having one all the time?”

Felassan says truthfully, “I didn’t think about it much.” He misses the choices he could make, to stretch his legs by the fire in the heady woods at night, to stick his fingers into loamy soil and smell the hungry earth, to edge his teeth along another person’s bottom lip. He places a finger where his lips once were, but of course he has no fingers anymore, just his own thoughtform.

“Careful,” Imshael says, dead eyes glinting. “Too much thought and you’ll break.”

Anxiety laces through him, because thought is all he has and thought keeps him whole, and in the worry he feels himself disintegrating in the old wood of the Tirashan. The scent of apples grows stronger, alcoholic, sick fermentation in blood that he no longer has—and then he remembers: Imshael is fucking with me. He wants to strike a deal. All that I have are my choices; Imshael shall not take those away. Flurrying into himself, Felassan stretches out his edges and feels the forest shift around him. The Tirashan is older than he is. The wood whispers: mine.

Felassan says, “Is that why you stuck yourself in that body? To keep the Tirashan from taking you? I quite like the Applewood, actually. Feels a bit like home.”

Imshael says, “Home that eats us alive, yes. Some of the old gods still linger, my friend.” There is a smile in his voice but he leaves the body alone. “Fen’Harel isn’t the only big thing coming. You can feel it, can’t you. That’s what drew you to the Applewood. What was once lost is no longer Forgotten.”

Felassan really has had enough of egregious poeticisms. He says, a bit testily, “What do you want, Imshael? Why are you here? Are you saying I was drawn here? Nothing compells me.”

Lacing roots ground him and the woods expand with one earthy exhale, and even Imshael’s body react electrically as the leaf litter wraps around its ankles. The Horned Knight eases out of the old tree.

Felassan breathes, “Daern’thal.”

The Horned Knight inclines his head and says, “One aspect.” The Forgotten Ones were driven to the edges of the map long before Fen’Harel raised the Veil and threw the world into catastrophe. This aspect of the old god, Daern’thal, has found refuge in the Applewood. Felassan is afraid. He would have been afraid even if he had a body, even if the Veil had not been raised. He never met the gods without Fen’Harel to protect him. Imshael is an interesting substitute.

Daern’thal has chosen the shape of a wooden man, echoing the humans who have driven his worshippers into the shadows of the glens. Halla horn bursts from his forehead. Rather than deal with the issue of mortal mucosity, the Forgotten One has placed eyes of fish scale and snakeskin into the indentation of his sockets. Thin bands of fungal mycelium bind his limbs together. Lust stirs in Felassan’s heart. He can make himself a body like that, if only he could learn how.

Imshael smiles.

One does not refuse an invitation from a god, even a Forgotten One. Felassan pushes against Imshael’s receptical’s shoulders, testing the electric nervous system of the dead flesh, but Imshael pushes against him.

“Only room for one,” he says flatly. “Unless?”

“Nah,” Felassan says. “I’m good here, thanks.” He follows the shambling corpse to the hall of the Horned Knight, a round tower in a narrow glen, dark and wet with green.

“Heartwood Court,” the Knight says, and bids them enter. The upper floors have partially collapsed into each other like dominos after they have been flicked, and Felassan stares nervously at stars glimmering between the leaves of the flowering roof. Of course, these mortal worries are beyond him. Wood and stone can do him no harm. At the center, indeed of the heart of the hall, grows a great tree, whose autumn-colored canopy provides some cover. Felassan sees a star twinkle, and then burn out: not enough.

The grass shines, dusted with shards of an old mirror. The Horned Knight has laid blankets of moss over toppled pillars, a facsimile of a great table. His servants gather, enthralled to his Will. Moss grows within their eyes and flowers bloom from their skin, patterned in the same tattooed ropes of the vallaslin.

Felassan touches the plush moss and is surprised when the moss pushes back. The Veil is thin here. He sits, suddenly ravenous. Daern’thal has hacked his way from the Void and back into the Waking World and made himself a body of earth and scale. If he can learn, he can stretch again. He can taste. He can bite. Imshael settles next to him, monstrously smug.

Felassan says, “You did this on purpose.”

“You’re welcome,” Imshael says. “Consider it a thank-you gift, for making sure I didn’t waste my time tormenting little Mihris. Here, it’s so much more fun. Subtler choices to make, with a much longer reach.” Their arms brush. Felassan starts at the touch.

He says, desire in his voice, “The Veil is very thin here.”

At the center of the great table the Horned Knight arranges himself, in a throne hewn of apple-wood. Glorious smells intoxicate the air: meat fresh-roasted over a well-loved fired, basted in its own blood. Saliva comes to Felassan’s mouth, and he swallows and licks his lips. Silent servants shuffle woodenly by the table, bearing a grotesque boar with its death scream still echoing in its mouth. Imshael reaches for the apple in its mouth and plucks it out. He offers it to Felassan.

Felassan says, “No. Not yet. No.”

Imshael smiles. “Not yet. But soon.” He lays it between Felassan’s hands, slowly gaining solidity. Felassan clenches his fists. Imshael is looking at him up from through his eyelashes. It would have a more charming effect if the body he occupies weren’t clearly dead.

There are rules of hospitality that must be followed. One does not eat before one’s host. Imshael wants him to; Imshael enjoys violation, the breaching of taboo. Felassan likes the bend and breach too, but it is easier to navigate in the Fade, where everything is up for debate. He watches his host. The Horned Knight burns with the old fire of the Forgotten Gods. The Veil warps around him, and the discordance of the waking and the dreaming syncopates into the beat of a living, muscled heart. Daern’thal figured it out. He lives, without a body, a thing of muscles and spells. He does not need to will every pump of blood. Imshael and Felassan gaze upon him with mutual lust.

“My guests,” he says. “Old countrymen from a country that exists only in our worst dream-rambles. Imshael Choice-Bringer I know has poached in my wood these two season. Small prey I grant him.”

Felassan sneaks a glance at Imshael. The corpse looks sour.

“Small prey,” Imshael rumbles. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

If Felassan had a consistent face, he would grin at that. He does like Imshael, after all. Who else would think to take on a remnant of a Forgotten One, in his own hall? What is he going to do, offer him a choice?

“And you, Slow Arrow, dropped from the Dread Wolf’s quiver, broken but undecayed. Piecemeal but awaiting restoration. Unbodied the both of you. Living not-death, I welcome you the same.”

Talk why do you do like that, Felassan thinks. Not even Solas got that bad. A flash of anger runs through him, and he is surprised to see his hands clench, and then they are gone. The moss lays undisturbed on the ruined pillar that is the table. He smells the dinner, he does not smell it. One does not need sensation for an appetite. He hungers. Imshael smiles.

Out of the corpse’s mouth Imshael says, “You’ve guarded the Tirashan well against the Evanuris and their lapdog. A shame this hall’s in ruins. What happened? Don’t you miss your temples?”

“The People worship us enough,” the Horned Knight says calmly. He carves a slice from the spit and places it on a golden plate. “Those the Evanuris would have seen erased have writ themselves large on the landscape. I am, in eternity, lord of these woods.” He has started speaking subject-verb-object again, Felassan notes. He is irritated. The Forgotten Ones were always easy to wind up. Then he realizes—

“What meat is that?” Felassan asks faintly. “Boar?” He hopes it is not halla; even the most degraded of their descendants still hold their kin sacred.

The Horned Knight’s fish scale eyes gleam in their own dark fire. He repeats, “The People worship us enough. They understand sacrifice, how to wear and tear ’til blood seeps into the Dreaming and yanks it awake.”

The Horned Knight passes the plate to Imshael, who passes it stiffly to Felassan. He catches it, flesh rapidly outlined, and places it onto the moss-tablecloth. A servant across the room smiles vacantly; the same moss that adorns the table covers her eyes. Onion flowers dot down her face in the slash of an X. Her skin is coated in red ochre. She does not taste of the Tirashan. She stinks, but not terribly, of Mythal. It is the Scornful Sorceress, Mythal’s troublesome little daughter. That means there is a limit to the Horned Knight’s reach; while he can eat and he can drink, he cannot smell. He does not know the presence of other gods.

Imshael and Felassan look at each other for a long moment. Wordlessly they agree, and let the girl be.

The Horned Knight cuts himself a prime slice and takes a bite. His teeth are the spiraling arms of living crinoids, tearing at the cooked flesh. His tongue is a flash of autumn leaf.

Imshael whispers, “Well? Aren’t you going to eat?”

Felassan whispers, “Aren’t you?”

“I don’t have a digestive system anymore.”

“Well, I’m dead. I don’t either.”

Imshael says, “Do you really think Daern’thal is living? Death eating death. How much of him is simply the Tirashan’s mycelium? Sacrifice won’t keep you whole for long.”

The dryad servants sway in time with the rustle of the leaf-wind. A woman with willow for hair pulls out a bone flute and begins to play. Richly the notes come like a sunset, winding around him like a drink. He is hungry for a body. Daern’thal has one. Perhaps he can share. It is about time he begins killing gods, rather than letting them kill him.

Imshael says, “Good choice.”

Felassan says fondly, “Get the fuck out of my thoughtform.”

The Forbidden One laughs, a rictus of death. The sacrifice steams on the plate over the altar. Neither of them eat. The servants are singing now, in the tree’s breath. First a rumble comes deep from their throats, then the rising chorus of sun and sugar, salt and carbon, bark and heart’s wood. They sway like young birches in the bite of winter’s breeze. He knows the steps and would dance it, if he had feet.

“Dead man’s shuffle?” Imshael offers.

Felassan says, “No.” He can do better than piggybacking off a decaying corpse, tricking mortals into giving up their form and discarding them as soon as they begin to rot. He watches the Horned Knight eat. It’s horrible, but it is living. He says, “I want that body.”

Imshael says, “Good choice.”

The Scornful Sorceress is not quite swaying in time with the others. The moss covering her eyes is thinner. A flower has fallen from the X-shaped vallaslin. Quick, Felassan thinks. Quick. Make your choice before it’s made for you. Don’t be like me.

The Horned Knight says, “My horn. Let us drink, and trade a story for a story, a boon for a boon.” The living wood comes forth bearing a lyrium-laced drinking horn in the shape of a silver halla, legs folded. Around the rim a scene is wrought, of a dying god clawing his way out of the Void to return to the Tirashan. The god becomes the wood, his body woven by the network of fungal decay that keeps the hivemind of the trees living and speaking. He says, “I was a spirit and I was a god and once I was a mere elf, running to the shelter of a Tirashan. The woods took me into their heart. Daern’thal made this horn, to safeguard against the Old Wolf’s tricks. I drank from it. We persist. What are your stories, my countrymen?”

Imshael says, “I refused to be limited by the boundaries of a body. A singular outline defers choice. I am Opportunity and I am Envy. Without a body, I can be both. The choice is yours.”

Felassan says, “Yes. I was the Dread Wolf’s Slow Arrow, the last-ditch plan he broke. I lost my body, but where there is thought, there is form. I am still living. I will persist. What do I need to do, to drink from that horn?”

Imshael smiles. The ochre woman is not even swaying at all.

The Horned Knight says, “You may drink of it only if you stay to the truth of your name. The Veil is breaking. Old magic returns, beyond what we have hidden in the Applewood. I grant you both this life if you stay true to it. Remain Imshael, the impossible choice. Stay the Slow Arrow, which flies the course.” The bark-cut mouth twists into a smile, fossil-teeth bared. “But know this. Once you drink of it, you are of it. The Tirashan has its due. You may remain distinct, but the mycelium persists. You are Felassan, but you will become the Tirashan too.”

Felassan pushes away the plate of flesh. He says, “Would I be able to leave the woods?

The Horned Knight smiles again. He says, “We know what is to come. What is to say that in the end, there will be anything but the woods?”

Fen’Harel is coming to break every chain. Fen’Harel is taking down the Veil and restoring Arlathan and its dark woods. The time of the quicklings is coming to an end. Slow magic, eating away at life, survives, neither flora or fauna.

Felassan says, “No,” and the ochre-servant snatches the horn from the Horned Knight’s wooden hands and sprints out of the hall, shifting into a massive bear. Imshael cackles with laughter. He says, “That’s no choice at all. Careful, there. You’ll put out Imshael out of a job.”

Imshael smiles. “And that’s no choice at all.”

[dalishious]

do you think anders and justice are really incapable of being separated, or does anders only think that’s true because of the limited knowledge provided to him by the circle?

We know for a solid fact that they could be separated, yeah. 

In Jaws of Hakkon’s quest In Exile it’s revealed that when Avvar mages develop their magic, they invite a spirit into them that then teaches them how to control it. When it’s time for the mage to separate from the spirit, there is a ritual to do so, with lyrium and bird bones (probably for prayer).

In Asunder, Wynne wilfully passes the spirit of faith keeping her alive into Evangeline; I don’t know if this is something she just realized she could do in the moment or something she knew all along.

“I never knew why the spirit kept me alive, when I should have died all those years ago. Now I do.”Wynne turned her attention to Evangeline. She placed both her hands on the body and closed her eyes. There was a rush of power. Rhys didn't know quite how to describe it. It expanded out of Wynne, filling the sewer tunnel with its warm light, and he watched in amazement as something flowed out of her and into Evangeline. It wasn't dark or terrible. It was life. It was a spark.At first it seemed like nothing would happen. But then he saw it--the colour returned to Evangeline's cheeks. All at once she took a great, gasping breath. Her eyes opened and she surged up in a panic. Rhys had to catch her to keep her from splashing about in the water.Their eyes met. It was her. She was alive.Then Rhys realized what that meant. He looked at Wynne... and saw his mother smile. It was a smile that said goodbye. And then she fell back and was gone forever.

And then there are of course examples of mages getting rid of demons who aren’t so friendly as well. Connor, for one--something the Circle obviously knows about. Same for Pharamond in Asunder. In The Calling, Fiona rids herself of a demon all on her own by sheer force of will. In The Masked Empire, Imshael simply leaves Mihris because he decides to.

So there are indeed ways for Anders and Justice to be separated if it was something he or Justice really wanted. But honestly, I’m not sure they really, in their hearts, do. Or even if Anders did really want to, like say in the case he’s rivalled by Hawke, I think he’s a little scared to let Justice go even still. Wynne describes being possessed by a spirit as something comforting, when they’re both on the same page. As does Sigrid Guldsdotten, the mage in JoH who does not want to get rid of her spirit because it’s her only friend. I just... can see both Anders and Justice being reluctant to let that go for a lot of reasons.

[lady-redhaired]

Hey no sweat about the repeat, these are great, you’re great.

I’m running out of synonyms for “fucking.” Here’s who gets to have finalised sexual intercourse:

Briala of Felassan (Have you met him? I bet he’s kinky as fuck. You won’t get bored.) 

Michel de Chevin or Imshael (Blond Boy vs Fuckboy. All in all I’d rather eat some doritos, but at least with a demon you’re never bored.)

Melecendre or Maryden (More like Enigma or Potential Asexuality Breaker Plot Device. Who the fuck is Melcendre?. Once again I’d love a bag of Doritos a lot more...)

Sigrun or Harding (We don’t deserve the blessing that is Harding I tell you.)

Krem or Dalish (ET’S JUST MA BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOw)

-Red

[moontheoretist]

The Forbidden Ones and Mouse

“The Forbidden Ones are a group of four unique and very powerful ancient demons. It is said that they are older than the darkspawn and the Tevinter Imperium. Some scholars think that they were the ones who taught the Magisters blood magic”.

That’s interesting.

“A memory in Vir Dirthara portrays them as having once held a corporeal form. However, during an unknown calamity that swept across elvhenan, they abandoned the People and gave up their physical forms to become mutable spirits. Thus the Evanuris declared them exiled from their lands. Familiarity with shape allowed them to travel the shifting paths of the Fade unaided”.

Evanuris? Elven People? It gets better and better!

“In each game, one of the Forbidden Ones had appeared as an optional boss, being defeated by the protagonist”.

Really? That’s interesting, because in DA4 there HAVE TO appear another one. But… who it will be? We met three, yes? Imshael and two others. Hm… hm… there it is!

“The first of the magus cast themselves deep in the Fade in search of answers and power, always power. They found the forbidden ones – Xebenkeck, Imshael, Gaxkang the Unbound, and The Formless One. Many conversations were had and much of the fabric of the world revealed. And thus the magic of blood was born.” ― Unknown mage

Wait! Wait! Wait!

All of them was the demons, who could change into three other demons, before they already died. “The Formless One” sounds unexpectedly FAMILIAR.

Broken Circle, the last boss DID something like that. He changed forms three times! Or four times, I don’t remember. But why it was there? I’m connecting the dots and…. Magi origin. Harrowing. The demon.

OH MY GOD.

Mouse is that you?

Quick summary: We met him in the Fade, he was a boy, who could change into mouse. Then we helped him to change himself into a bear and then we killed Rage demon and Mouse revealed himself as Pride demon. Three times. He changed forms three times. And it’s interesting, because this fourth demon name is “The Formless One”. I don’t think that it means, that he doesn’t have a form, because all of them doesn’t have a form. 

But what if it means that he couldn’t learn new form before until our mage met him, or it refers to the fact that he HAD TO learn new forms in order to gain strenght to change himself into a demon form? What if it implies that he didn’t have the opportunity to learn and he had only human form, when they abandoned the People, which from spirits/demons point of view could be seen as “none”? Also what if it also refers to his power? What if it means that The Formless One was the weakest from them and because of that he had problems with learning new forms? Or he was seen as weakest, because he had to learn new forms? When he was alone in the Fade he only had the opportunity to learn a mouse form, but then we helped him and he became stronger, because of our mage, and in the end he could change himself into a Pride demon form.

It doesn’t sound as stupid as I thought.

Edit: I’m sending a big “THANKS” to everyone, who thinks that my blabbering is worth something. At first I really thought that my brain simply created something really stupid. But when I wrote it down, it suddenly started to look better than my thoughts. I wish I could remember all codexes and make a good theory, but it’s simply my first thought after beating Imshael third time in DAI. It suddenly apperead in my head and… it just happened.