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dragonageloree · 4 years

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Education

Education in Thedas varies depending on race, culture, and class, and from nation to nation.

Human nations

Andrastian Chantry

The education provided to those of the Chantry appears on par with that of nobles. Templar recruits are literate and are taught history[1] in addition to their martial training and religious education. Only initiates, those who have taken vows to devote their lives to the Chantry, receive an academic education.[2]

Members of the Chantry, by virtue of their responsibilities, are naturally literate and well-read, in the Chant of Light if nothing else.

Local Chantries may also provide some instruction to their followers and allow access to their texts.[3]

Chantry members may also pursue scholarship. Clerics are the true academics of the Chantry, those men and women who have dedicated themselves to the pursuit of knowledge.[2] The most well-known Chantry scholar is Brother Ferdinand Genitivi, lecturer and author of numerous texts and travelogues. Other scholars search for ancient artifacts and scrolls, such as Sister Justine, curator of the Denerim chantry. Justine is also versed in decoding ciphers and encrypted text.

Circle of Magi

The library of Kinloch Hold.

The education of a mage is as extensive as that of a noble, if not more so. Beyond being taught to control their magic, a mage learns of the various schools of magic as well as languages, reading, writing, scrying, healing, etc. A mage's training consists of extensive study of arcane lore.

Much like the Chantry, the Circle of Magi encourages scholarship and publishes the completed research. Examples of this are the botanical writings of Ines and the spirit research of Rhys. Through their education and scholarship, mages are considered some of the most educated members of society and as such may sometimes function as advisers in royal courts.

Circles of Magi have massive libraries and are typically the greatest repositories of knowledge in a given country, though access is naturally limited.

Commoners

Commoners appear to receive little formal education in most countries in Thedas and many may be illiterate. City elves receive even less education than human commoners. As such, dwarven runes may be used in place of writing in some cases.[4] In other instances tally marks may be used to delineate locations or distances.[5]

However, in sharp contrast, those who work as servants in noble estates appear to receive extensive education, at least enough that is sufficient to perform their tasks.[6]

In recent years, Empress Celene Valmont I has been strongly encouraging the University of Orlais to overlook the lack of status and rank for individuals who show prodigious talent or potential which could help further the interests and prestige of the Orlesian Empire, provided a noble sponsors them. Most recently this has even extended to Celene personally interceding in support of an elven math prodigy, Lennan, who was sponsored by Comtesse Helene.[7] Elves are now allowed into the university, although it is common for their work to go unacknowledged and uncredited.[8]

Slaves

Slaves in the Tevinter Imperium are often illiterate[9]; However, some receive formal education and training for specific purposes such as working in libraries, accounting or scribing. Literacy is notable and reflects on a slave's price.[10][11]

To make up for this lack of instruction, Tevinter slaves develop their own pictograms as a way to warn other slaves of things such as a master's temperament and other practical uses related to their society. These symbols go largely unnoticed by their owners and have a local significance, thus the same image might mean different things to different groups.[12]

Fereldan nobility

Among the Fereldan nobility, an education is typically provided by a learned tutor, such as Aldous in the Human Noble Origin. Noble Andrastian families may often have a Chantry Mother as a member of the household to attend to the religious education of the young. Examples of Mothers attached to noble households are Mother Mallol and Mother Ailis of the Cousland and Theirin families respectively.

A major facet of noble education appears to be history, as Aldous drills both the Human Noble and young squires in the household on family history. Reading and writing are naturally part of this education. A noble education does not necessarily make one a strong scholar however, as even King Maric is by his own admission a poor reader.[13] Martial training is also a component of the education of nobility, as nobles are expected by their commoners to defend them and their territories. It is unusual, but not unheard of, for noble daughters to be educated in the ways of war and battle.

Noble education may also include such things as dance and song, as Leliana learned in Lady Cecilie's household.

Noble households may also boast libraries, as Castle Cousland does.

Dwarves

The archives of the Shaperate

Dwarven education in Orzammar appears to be given to those with caste. Little is known of the nuances of dwarven education but it appears that at least part of it, amongst nobles, may be administered by members of the Shaperate.[14] Martial training appears to be a major element of dwarven education in Orzammar, with the best trainers being retained by noble households.

The Shaperate is arguably the largest repository of history and knowledge. Its resources are available to anyone, in order to pursue both personal[15] and professional research. Noble households may also serve as patrons for Shaperate scholars.[16]

However the Shaperate is not the only source of scholarly work in Orzammar. A mining caste dwarf named Grundrak wrote a book named 'On Combustibles and Corrosives' which discusses the use of combustiles and corrosives for best effect and contains the formalae for both the Fire Bomb and Acid Flask. This book was written in the Trade tongue as he was certain that humans needed the advice most of all.[17]

Casteless dwarves

Amongst the casteless there is no formal education; indeed, most casteless dwarves appear to be functionally illiterate.[18] However, noble hunters are literate and highly educated in poetry and other skills in order to make them attractive to noble partners.

Qunari

A Tamassran educating converts

Education amongst the Qunari is administered according to one's role in the rigid society of the Qun. Learning is a core philosophy of the Qunari way of life. In spite of it, many Qunari do not speak the common tongue of Thedas.[19] Amongst Qunari, the tamassrans are arguably the most educated, being fluent in many languages[20] in order to educate, or re-educate, converts to the Qun. Tamassrans raise the young, administer their general education, and evaluate them for placement in society.

Dalish elves

Education among the Dalish appears to be in the main oral,[21] who instruct through the use of lore and storytelling. The Dalish retain their history through oral tradition as well as books in some cases.[22] A clan's First studies lore, magic and history in order to become a successful Keeper.[23] A Keeper is ostensibly a clan's leader and as such is viewed as wise and learned.

Dalish elves hold Arlathvhens in order to reconvene with other clans and to exchange their collected lore.

Known scholars

Chantry-sanctioned

Brother Ferdinand Genitivi[24]

Ines Arancia[24]

Sister Petrine[24]

Sister Lilian Hatch[24]

Sister Oran Petrarchius[25]

Sister Dorcas Guerrin[26]

First Enchanter Josephus[27]

Disapproved by the Chantry

Laudine[28](former Chantry Sister)

Others

Philliam, A Bard![29]

Massache de Jean-Mien[26]

Lady Alcyone[30]

Baron Havard-Pierre D'Amortisan[30]

Ferdinand Pentaghast[31]

Mother Ailis[32]

Frederic of Serault[32]

Stephan d'Eroin

Notable repositories

The Shaperate of Orzammar

The library of Kinloch Hold

Archive of the Crows in Antiva City

The Grand Library of The Winter Palace, Orlais

Vir Dirthara, the Shattered Library, accessible from The Crossroads

The library of Weisshaupt Fortress in the Anderfels[33]

Known universities

University of Orlais[34]

University of Markham[35]

University of Ferelden (If Anora is the sole ruler)[36]

Trivia

Zevran Arainai and other assassins of the Antivan Crows are notably literate,[37] and the Crows maintain their own scholarship in their archive.

Fenris is illiterate as a consequence of his enslavement.[38]

Elan Ve'mal mentions there being a specific college for herbalists.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age origins #dragon age 2 #dragon age lore #da #dai #dao #da2 #DA Lore #da 2

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aly-the-writer · 6 years

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"Fight me, you attractive stranger" for Taralyn and Dorian

Nonnie!!!!! THANK YOU! :D This was a lot of fun to write, even if I went with an entirely self-indulgent ‘Dales Never Fell’ AU. Slight grammatical adjustments to the prompt for Tara’s personality but I had fun writing this. ^^

Dorian Pavus, Altus of the TevinterImperium, heir to his father’s seat on the Magisterium and all around socialpariah in his homeland was perhaps not overly surprised to find that theposition of Ambassador to the Dales was not one that earned him much love amongthe Dalish people.

The Dales were a prickly, fiercelyindependent nation remarkable for their free and independent elven population. Their relationshipwith his homeland was also…poor, to say the least.

Not that the Dales seemed keen on gettingalong with their neighbors either.

Although, since the Blight Ferelden’sKing Cailan though had begun to build a true friendship with the country thatlay between his fertile kingdom (famed both for its rich lands and dogs) andthe ever hungry Empire of Orlais whose conflicts with the Dales had ignitednearly as frequently as those between the Imperium and the Qun.

Currently his tour-guide waspointing out where the Andrastian Chantry for the city stood, though he wouldhave recognized it for the Sunburst banners and silver-clad knights without heraid.

“We accepted many refugees fromFerelden ten years ago, and more recently have taken in mages fleeing from theTemplar-Mage conflicts. They needed a place for their Maker.”

“Oh?” he tried to sound interested.

Truthfully he would have ratherbeen back home studying magic – or, preferably, the bottom of a wine bottle –his recent affair with one of the Archon’s grandsons had garnered quite a bitof attention back home and so he’d been shipped off to allow the scandal of itto die down and – it was his father’s hope – for the Archon to forget aboutsending assassins.

If not he would have preferred tostay in the rooms that he had been granted the use of during his stay, notfetched out into the bright, colorful marketplace for a walk with thefriendliest elf he’d met during his stay so far.

A low explosion – that clearlyrecognizable as a mana discharge – followed by shouts and jeering in the elvenlanguage. Cheering? An explosion?

Siona cast him a sidelong look,catching his confusion in the furrowing of his brows, and laughed a bit.

“It’s the training rings,” sheexplained, catching his sleeve and weaving through the crowd so they had a goodview of a fence-ringed pit, Dorian tugged after her.

They arrived to see a red hairedelf dump a human on his backside in the mud then offer him a hand up afterextracting his yield with a shimmering blade held at his throat. There was a friendlyexchange before the human climbed back out of the fighting pit to the knot ofblue-and-silver uniforms.

One of the green clad warriorscalled something down to the red head who raised a brow and gestured for thecaller to join him in the ring. The sides of the mud-filled pit were set a goodtwelve feet into the earth – the sides scarred with magic and showing why a training ring had been carved outof the earth rather than simply having a fence constructed around it.

He could see several simpler fencesstanding empty in the area. Those who would usually have been using them amongthe on-lookers for the mage’s sparring sessions.

“He seems rather…stiff,” Dorian murmured,examining the red head. A staff in one hand and an empty hilt in the other – a knight-enchanter,given the mess of mud that they were fighting in it wasn’t really a surprisethat those who were competing hadstripped down to just their trousers in favor of avoiding scouring mud from theelegant looking armor of their respective orders. (It was a view that Doriancould definitely appreciate if nothing else.)

He vaguely remembered meeting thered head before - during one of the previous tours he’d been dragged along bySiona on – to the University that time. The red head had not been wearing armorthen either, instead had been half buried in his tomes and glaring when they’dmade too much noise in the library.

Siona laughed a little, “He does has that reputation. He’s one ofthe best Fade Hunters in the Dales though.”

Green eyes locked on Dorian and ahead tilted to the side, long red locks loose from his previous matches fallinginto his face. A slow assessment traced over Dorian and he called up to Siona in elven. (Dorian would have to convince someone to give him lessons eventually, wouldn’t he?)

She rolled her eyes and calledsomething back.

The red head shrugged beforelooking to Dorian again. His Trade was accented heavily, but there was a glintto his eye that showed despite his straight face that the warrior was perhapsnot quite as stiff or stern as Dorian’sfirst impressions.

“Fight me,” he challenged, gesturing for Dorian to join him, “You –the attractive stranger.”

#ask answers #ask answered #Dragon Age #Dales Never Fell AU #Dorian Pavus #OC: Taralyn Lavellan #OC: Siona Lavellan

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wolfoncaffeine · 7 years

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this burden

Rattled by the fighting and death at the crossroads, Eirlana seeks both distraction and advice from Solas. ao3

Sunlight, low and slicing through thin clouds, gilded the spring taiga, affording the Hinterlands a radiance at odds with the rebellions’ chaos.

Naked and shivering, Eirlana strode into the pool and nearly leaped back out. Instead, she waded in up to her waist and scrubbed herself with the cloth she held. The dried blood washed away in moments, yet its feeling remained, a tightness to her skin. She scrubbed harder. The anchor thrummed, sending shivers along her bones.

Eventually, she stumbled out, dried, and dressed.

Damp hair bound in a bun, she stepped through the ferns to the cliff. From her vantage point, the sun remained in the sky, yet twilight draped over the valley below, turning trees into spectres and campfires into targets for bandits. Leagues away, Redcliffe’s castle peeked over the hills.

She sat, pulled her tools from her satchel, and began grinding elfroot into a mush. Tomorrow, she’d deliver a batch of potions to the corporal. Even with her standing offer to heal whenever they happened to pass through, it wouldn’t be enough.

Until a healer turns up and agrees to work in a war zone, nothing will —

Gleaming with sunlight, a sword cut the thought off.

She flinched, crumpling roots. Too clear, too recent to be shoved aside, the memory bulled forward — stumbling away from the weapon, stammering, a flash of lightning, and the templar bursting, spraying blood. Another — a mage preparing to cast on Varric, a fade-step, then her own staff-blade in the elf’s gut.

The anchor’s thrumming sped up, keeping time with her heartbeat.

Bile pushing up her throat, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the ground. She tried to think of something else, the astrariums or those skulls on pedestals, the sound of a cracking skull —

Hands shaking, she set her mortar aside, then crawled forward and vomited over the edge. Her throat burned, making her eyes water. When nothing else came up, she collapsed to the ground, shuddering. Thinking of nothing, she stared at the stars.

After a minute, the nausea faded a little. Moving slowly, she wiped her tears away and crawled back to her tools.

Dusk had fallen without her notice, shrouding the cliff in shadows. Silently reciting elfroot’s uses to keep her thoughts occupied, she cast a dim mage-light and picked up her mortar again.

Footsteps and a voice calling, “Herald?”

She straightened out of her slouch. “Over here.”

A smudge of green and grey in her peripheral, Solas stepped through the ferns. “You have been gone a while. Are you well?”

She flushed with heat, afraid he’d heard her retching, and squashed another root with her pestle. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“…I’ll leave you be.”

“Solas, wait,” she blurted, then blanked on what to say. “Would, would you tell me about Elvhenan?”

“Am I not intruding?”

“No, you’re not,” she said, still staring at her hands. “I’m just worn out. But I’d love to listen to you. If you’re not busy.”

“Of course.” He sat down next to her. “What do you know of Halamshiral?”

Gathering her thoughts, she bottled the elfroot mush and repacked her tools. “It was founded a thousand years ago, after the war with the Imperium, after Andraste’s children gave us the Dales, and after The Long Walk. It was the capital of the Dales and its cultural centre for three hundred years. In the second Exalted March, the city and nation fell to Orlais.”

Solas hummed. “An accurate history, if lacking any meat.”

“Everything else is speculation,” she sighed. “The Chantry was thorough in its sacking.”

“Precisely. The Dalish strive to remember Halamshiral, but Halamshiral was merely a fumbling attempt to recreate a forgotten land.”

“Arlathan.”

“Elvhenan’s greatest city,” he said, voice turning wistful. “Place of magic and beauty, lost to time.”

“You almost sound like you’ve seen it.”

“I have.”

Eirlana stared at him. He’s — “Creators, you’ve seen it? In the Beyond? You’ve been to Arlathan’s forest?”

“Once.” His gaze fell, something that looked like sorrow on his face. “A long time ago.”

Her heart thumped, loud in her chest. “So?”

He looked up, meeting her eyes, and smiled faintly. “We hear stories of them living in trees and imagine wooden ramps or Dalish aravels. Imagine instead spires of crystal twining through the branches. Palaces floating among the clouds. Imagine beings who lived forever, for whom magic was as natural as breathing. That is what was lost.”

“Wait. Wait. The myth about immortality is true?”

“In a sense; their bodies did not fail with the passage of time, so long as they did not remain in uthenera for centuries.” He paused, head tilting. “You do not believe me.”

“I…Fen’Harel’s bloody teeth.” She shook her head, stunned, and took a deep breath. The air cold made her nose ache. “I never believed in the myth,” she corrected, “not entirely. I thought there was a grain of truth to it, but immortality…never seemed probable.”

“And why is that?”

“Our bodies aren’t that durable. Flesh scratches, tears, bruises easily. Bones break if you fall and land wrong. Organs deteriorate noticeably within decades. For the ancient elves to have been immortal, their bodies would’ve necessarily been remarkably different from ours. That or magically sustained, which would require a ridiculous amount of energy.”

“As would suspending buildings in the sky.”

She rolled her lips. “Assuming the loss of immortality is fact, maybe our access to the Beyond was reduced at some point.”

“That is possible.” After a beat, he said, “There is much more about Elvhenan to tell, far too much for one conversation. Is there anything else you would like to ask?”

She began to say ‘healing magic,’ to ask after what he’d gleaned from his studies and how she could improve her technique, but stopped. Her skin itched, as if the blood remained. A sprawl of bodies lingered in her vision. “You’re a healer, right?” At his nod, she looked down at her hands again, fiddling with her sylvanwood ring. “How do you separate the you that heals from the you that kills?”

Silence answered. She clenched her fists, skin hot, nausea building again. Fenedhis, I shouldn’t have asked —

“I don’t suppose I do, anymore.”

She looked up, startled. Something must’ve shown on her face, for his expression softened.

“The fighting we participated in troubles you.”

“I’m not,” she swallowed, “accustomed to killing. Or battle.”

“Considering your position as First, I am not surprised.”

She laughed, a huff of breath. “Perhaps you should be.” He raised an eyebrow and she looked out over the valley, darkened to ink, before continuing. “Every First-in-training learns to command and fight.”

“Your people have warleaders, correct? Is the defence of your clans not their responsibility?”

She shook her head. “Not entirely. Warparties are often away, dealing with threats that venture into our territory. A Keeper is always with their clan and must always be ready to defend it. So, battle is among the many things we study.”

“Without practical training to complement the theoretical, you cannot expect yourself to perform as a soldier would.”

She shot him a look. “I’m not. I only expect to hold my own.”

“The more experience you gain, the more you will adjust. For now, I suggest you hold a position to the rear, support from a distance, and pay attention to what both your allies and opponents are doing. And,” he added, voice turning stern, “do not take unnecessary risks.”

“Implying I’ve already taken one?”

“Your defence of Master Tethras.”

“Since when is saving Varric an unnecessary risk?”

“It is the manner in which you did that is problem.”

“If I’d cast from that distance, the mage could’ve easily deflected my spell at Varric.”

“Deflected spells rarely cause more than superficial harm.”

“Meaning the risk remains that they could cause more,” she snapped, sharper than intended. His eyes narrowed, irritation showing in the crinkles between his brows. She suppressed a sigh and twisted to face him. “Solas, my duty as a First is to protect my people. I recognize that, as the one in possession of the anchor, I’m vital to the Inquisition’s success, but I will never put a friend in danger if it can be avoided.”

“That is admirable,” he said, expression smoothing, “yet if you cannot guard yourself in battle, your resolve is irrelevant.”

She nodded. “Then I’ll practice. And I promise to be mindful of the risks I take.” For several breaths, he merely held her gaze, remaining silent. “Tell me, why did you choose to become a healer?”

His words pulled another memory up — laughter and iron rasping, a sword blurring, a storm of spelled lightning, blood flowing through her weak spells and shaky hands, and a limp body heavy on her back. She tensed slightly, perhaps slightly enough to go unnoticed. “I realized that my lightning alone wasn’t enough to protect.” Her voice did not waver. She did not drop her eyes.

He hummed. “I believe you have the answer to your question.”

“Pardon?”

“You wish to safeguard the lives of those around you. To succeed you must accept that doing so will inevitably result in blood on your hands, that of those you kill and of those you cannot protect.”

Just for a moment, she closed her eyes, embarrassed to have hoped for a different answer. He’d spoken with his usual detached tone, and yet, from his mouth, the words weighed true. Deshanna had once given her the same answer, with the same weight in her voice. I must accept this. I am First of Lavellan and I do. I do. Heavy and unyielding, Solas’ words settled over her heart. “You speak from experience.”

Again, a shadow passed over his face. “I do.”

“Ma serannas,” she said calmly, despite not feeling calm at all. “I appreciate your honesty. And guidance.”

“You are welcome. You carry a heavy mantle and a heavier responsibility, as the Herald of Andraste. I would ease that burden, however I could,” he replied, with all the solemnity of an oath.

Which, oddly enough, it sounded like.

His gaze left hers and wandered to the ground. “The hour grows late. We should return to camp, Herald, and prepare for tomorrow.”

“Alright.” She walked with him through the ferns, lengthening her strides to keep pace. Lighting the way, her mage-light hovered between them. “Solas,” she said, spotting the campfire’s glow ahead, “may I ask that you don’t call me ‘Herald?’”

“You did not ask the same of Seeker Pentaghast,” he replied, not accusingly.

“Cassandra is Andrastian. You aren’t, unless I’m mistaken.”

“No, you are correct. However, there is still the matter of decorum.”

“I know. Only ‘Herald’ in public. Josephine lectured that into me after the first mishap.”

“Very well. What would you have me call you?”

“Just ‘Eirlana.’”

“As you wish.”

#da fanfic #my fic #eirlana lavellan #solas #solas & lavellan

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calamity-writes · 7 years

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The World(s) of Entropic Horizons - Nations

Ferelden

A rocky earth-like Planet, Ferelden is at the outer habitable edge of the Thedas System and has a moderate to cold weather overall, with both poles capped with ice. Ferelden cities often make use of geothermal energy and hot springs are popular with travellers and locals alike. Ruled by King Alistair and Queen Rythlen, Ferelden exports natural resources such as steel, fresh water, and lyrium that is mined by Orzammar transplants.

Noteworthy Locations

Haven - A station dedicated to serving and hosting pilgrims to the Temple of Sacred ashes that was on Frostback, Ferelden's lone moon. Both are now destroyed, and debris periodically falls into Ferelden's atmosphere causing blazes of light as they burn up. These are now called 'Andraste Tears' and are rumoured to be signs of the dead passing into the Maker's arms.

Denerim - The Nation's capital and seat of power. Home to the Royal Couple, both veterans of the Fifth Blight.

Redcliffe - Ferelden's primary mining city, near to Kinloch hold, a former circle.

The Blight Lands - (including Lothering and Ostagar) Lands ravaged and poisoned by the Fifth Blight

Noteworthy Fereldens

Rythlen Theirin - Queen of Ferelden and Hero of the Fifth Blight, Rythlen's become somewhat of a celebrity in Thedas as footage of the heroic (and beautiful) woman saving her planet spread to Orlais and beyond. Now married to fellow Grey Warden and Blight Veteran, Alistair Theirin, Rythlen is back in the fray, working with the Inquisition to make her planet safe once more.

OC belongs to @picchar

Haylan - A former Templar Hound, Haylan was born in Ferelden but was transferred to a Starkhaven Circle when her magic appeared. She now works with the Inquisition as their main doctor and healer.

OC and concept of Templaric Hounds belong to @siriusdraws

Leliana Nightingale - Spymaster of the Inquisition, veteran of the Fifth Blight

Garrett Hawke - Former Champion of Kirkwall and instigator of the Great Mage Rebellion

Carver Hawke - Grey Warden and reluctant brother of Garrett

Orlais

Ferelden's nearest neighbouring planet, Orlais is closer to the Sun, and is significantly larger and richer. Formerly spanning both planets, the Orlesian Empire contained to it's titular planet and it's two moons. Officially ruled by Empress Celene, Orlais has been embroiled in a brutal Civil war as General or the Orlesian army Gaspard attempts to take the throne.

Noteworthy Locations

Val Royaux - The Capital of Orlais and seat of the Divine, Val Royaux is a picturesque city. Everything about it is manicured and ornate. The slums are kept in an undercity, kept out of view. Elves are rarely seen above ground.

Halamshiral - The true heart of Orlais. Halamshiral was built on the blood of elves, and had one of the worst alienages among the outer Thedan planets. Unlike Val Royaux, Halamshiral's slums are still above ground, although Celene had the Alienage purged shortly before the War of the Lions broke out. Construction to tear down the Alienage and build a gentrified neighbourhood has ceased in the meantime.

The (Hissing) Waste - The larger of Orlais's two moons, whatever greenery and life once covered this moon, now there is only poisoned sand and ruins from the Second Blight. It was renamed after the Blight.

Approach - The smaller of Orlais's moons, Approach is similarly tainted by the Second Blight and little survives on the arid surface. However, there is an oasis on the far side of Approach where something has kept the Blight's Poison at bay.

Adamant Fortress - A station built above The Waste by the Grey Warden Corps ages ago, Adamant was one of many staging grounds the Wardens used to fight back and defeat the Second Blight.

L'Emprise du Lion - A province-continent towards the northern Orlesian pole, L'Emprise is temperate, and was formerly known as a resort getaway for Orlesian Nobility and the nouveau Riche.

Noteworthy Orlesians

Milliara Lavellan - Unwilling Herald and reluctant Inquisitor, Milliara is a former 'pet' bard (a bard sponsored by a singular patron and looked down upon by others in the profession). She grew up in Halamshiral's Alienage before meeting her Patron and eventual lover, Frederic. When their son, Nils, exhibited magic, she abducted him and fled to reconnect with her father's Dalish clan. Bargaining for them to instruct Nils in magic and take them both in, Milliara offered her services as spy to the clan, and wound up at the Conclave. Brusque, short tempered and bitter, Milliara has a soft spot for family and a habit of throwing herself headlong into danger.

Nils DuLion - The son of Milliara and Frederic, Nils is sweethearted and kind. Like all Half-elves he exhibits no elven traits aside from slightly more pigmented irises and a predisposition to magic which he revealed at a young age. He's currently being tutored in magic by Peanut Adaar, Dorian Pavus and Solas.

DuLion is a common name given to bastard children of nobles.

Frederic Rousseau - A Captain of the Chevalier Legion and Baron in his own right, Frederic is loyal to Gaspard, and even considers him a close friend. However, Frederic's love for his son drove him to renounce his ties to the Orlesian Empire and join the Inquisition so he could spend time with Nils. He holds Milliara accountable for stealing away their son, but old feelings resurface the longer he's around her.

Empress Celene - The Empress of Orlais (contested).

Grand Duc Gaspard - The General of the Orlesian Army and head of the Special forces the Chevaliers Legion.

Galaren DuMarc - a bastard son of the nouveau riche family the DuMarcs, Galaren was sent away to live with a great aunt rather than bring shame to his family. He's been rather forcibly recruited into the Inquisition.

OC belongs to @fangrl-esque

Skyhold

Stronghold of the Inquisition, Skyhold is a large and ancient fortress found in the asteroid belt beyond Ferelden. Built before Tevinter influence, it runs on spells and mechanisms that have been lost to time but maintain a planet like atmosphere and barrier to help protect those that live inside. Now it's home to the remnants of the Lavellan clan, and other wayward souls that have joined forces with the Inquisition.

Noteworthy Skyhold Residents

(Who are not otherwise listed as part of another nation)

Clan Skyhold - What's left of Clan Lavellan

Fiowyn Lavellan - 'Auntie Fi' to Nils and often the volun-told babysitter, Fiowyn is actually Milliara's cousin, not her sister. Sweet, awkward, and with a love of books and pretty people, Fiowyn's happy to stay in Skyhold caring for the residents. After all, there's bears out on Orlais and Feredlen

OC belongs to @shyquisitor

Aldes Lavellan - A hunter and consummate flirt, Aldes and his sisters survived the purge of Lavellan's clan by being out on a salvage mission when the Marcher nobleman's forces attacked.

Aldes, Karya and Kalieth belong to @kingsdragonage

Karya Lavellan - The youngest of the lavellans, Karya is shy around strangers. Quiet and thoughtful, she's still reeling from losing her family, although being at Skyhold helps. Especially around so much knowledge and this sweet android who she keeps seeing around.

Kalieth Suryana - A warden mage, half sister to Aldes and Karya, veteran of the Fifth Blight.

Tevinter

The closest habitable planet to the Sun, Tevinter is only habitable in sub-polar lattitudes and above due to the proximity of the Sun's rays. once the centre of an empire that conquered nearly the entire Thedan system, now Tevinter is a crumbling shell of the glory it once was.

Noteworthy Tevinters

Dorian Pavus - Pariah Altus, wonderful, sparkly, sassy man.

Kenslynn - a half-elf from Tevinter, she's now joined the Inquisition. Often seen hanging out with Clan Skyhold.

OC belongs to @megan-mayhem

The Free Marches

Composed of different stations and colonies scattered throughout the asteroid field between Nevarra and Orlais, the Free Marches are a collection of independent nation-states that often band together to bargain with and defend against the larger planetary nations. Each colony has it's own culture, from Kirkwall's reputation as a Sin City (and now anarchy and terrorism) to Ostwick's trade hub and Starkhaven's.... accents.

Noteworthy Marchers

Theseus Trevelyan - formerly a Templar of Ostwick, Theseus, the 'spare's spare' of the Trevelyan family was attending the conclave when the Breach exploded, destroying Ferelden's moon Frostback. He joined the Inquisition shortly after.

OC belongs to @perditionxroad

Maeve Trevelyan - A distant cousin of Theseus, Maeve is one of the two Heralds that emerge from the Breach after the Conclave is destroyed. A trained assassin, Maeve worked for a time with the Antivan Crows. In a relationship with the Commander.

OC belongs to @klc-journei

Peanut Adaar (and brother Tanim) - A Vashoth mage, Peanut was always an apostate, but she's as far from the snarky tourtured stereotype as you can get. She's sweet and prefers baking to fighting. Often seen giving hugs to those who need it, like Clan Skyhold. Part of Team Nanny with Aunti Fi.

OC belongs to @cupcakelogic

Par Vollen

A large flotilla of stations and ships that appeared in Thedas in recent times. In an endless war with Tevinter, with the Tevene moon Seheron as the main battleground.

Home of the Qun.

The Dalish

A nation with no homeland left to them, Dalish elves travel in clans, using special ships with solar sails called aravels. The main ship's systems are powered by magic-infused animals called Halla, who are sacred to the Dalish.

Dalish elves are easily identifiable compared to 'city' elves by their glowing facial tattoos called vallaslin that are made with luminescent ink that often will visually pulse in time with their heartbeat.

Orzammar

A dwarf planet (hah), Orzammar is between the Astroid belt of the Free Marches and Orlais. It's surface is barren and the residents live in vaults and cities carved out of the planet's caverns. However the continued excavation over millennia resulted in an unstable crust, and after a massive quake, Darkspawn erupted from an undiscovered cavern, overrunning most of the Dwarven kingdoms.

Now, only a few cities remain, and the dwarven diaspora has spread across the whole Thedan system, with many dwarves creating new cities in the crust of other planets. Unfortunately, it appears darkspawn have followed.

#Entropic Horizons #master post #the world of entropic Horizons #eh #The Planets #nations #ferelden #orlais #etc #Rythlen and co #gif warning #long post

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heartslogos · 7 years

Text

newfragile yellows [43]

“I know you, Wolf,” Solas does not freeze. Freezing would be an admission. Instead he looks up and meets Lavellan’s eyes.

She is a strong woman. A clever woman. A proud woman. A dangerous woman.

Solas has been four out of five of these things before. That particular combination does not go well together. It can be worn beautifully, for a time, but inevitably it will bring ruin onto itself.

“Pardon?”

Lavellan raises a thin brow, crossing her legs as she leans back on her perch. He recognizes her too well, too much; from the way she sits on the low stone wall that rises next to the hut he’s claimed as his own to the way her face moves, she is too familiar.

He wonders if this is youth or history at work. Perhaps it is both.

“I said, I know you,” Lavellan repeats slowly in the strange and half-recognizable puzzle of elven that the elves of the Dales have cobbled together out of remnants long past.

For all that their basic premises are wrong, Solas admits that he admires the tenacity with which they have built upon the bones of the old and made it their own.

“I know not what your faction is really called,” Lavellan says, “But I have learned to recognize their members. Your group has many would-be-spies among my people. Those spies and saboteurs have worked their way into my court to try and directly influence me no less than four times, I believe. I did not realize the Wolf’s people were working among the other powers of Thedas as well. Are you here to observe, or to shape? Both?”

“I do not know of what you mean.”

Lavellan’s gaze turns amused, a cat with a mouse between its young and violently playful paws. After a moment of examination, she appears to let him off the proverbial hook, turning her eyes onto the Breach itself.

“I recognize, too, this magic,” Lavellan says. “I would not say so in front of the shemlen - I barely escaped with my head attached. Is the mark of magic here not familiar, hahren?”

“You, Lavellan - leader of the Dales and Emerald Knights, most holy and exalted to the Free Elves - would refer to me as a hahren?”

“Why not?” Lavellan asks, still looking at the Breach. “You posses a certain level of knowledge and experience that I do not, you were able to heal me when no other could, and you guided me in sealing the rifts.”

“Knowledge you could have intuited on your own, given enough time to exercise that power,” Solas points out.

Lavellan laughs, “What a luxury! Time. You know this magic, do you not, hahren?”

She turns and looks at him, dark eyes dancing - the echo of his memory is so painful. It is like looking into a tarnished mirror.

“Yes,” He admits.

“Our secret, for now, agreed?” She says.

Solas dips his head down in agreement. This, at least, is something he finds reasonable.

“Is there a problem?” Lavellan doesn’t even give the poor herald a look as she takes her place at the door.

Leliana can’t help be just the smallest bit amused.

She imagines that it isn’t every day that one must announce the Commander of the Dales to the Empire of Orlais.

“No, Madame.”

Lavellan looks over then, “Madame?”

Her eyebrow slowly raises. For all that Lavellan is stubborn and refuses to give an inch, Leliana admits - she plays the game beautifully. It is a pleasure to watch.

It is always beautiful to watch a master at their craft - a master painter, a singer, a dancer, an orator.

Leliana imagines the sour face the man must make underneath his mask when he is forced to say the words.

“Most holy.”

Lavellan’s eyes slowly flutter, a satisfied beast, before turning forward again. Her voice lowers, crouches, slithers.

“You will announce me in full. I will know if you leave anything out. I will return.”

And she walks.

Perhaps, Leliana thinks as she follows the woman into the now silent grand ballroom, they were wrong in thinking they had to restrain Lavellan. Perhaps, what the Orlesian court needs is not another player, but a new game master.

If they will not cooperate with each other and unify to fight the obvious threat of their own free will, perhaps they will cooperate when forced to by a stronger one.

As Solas would put it, an indomitable one.

What happens when the immovable object of the Orlesian habit is met with the unstoppable force of the reigning power of the Dales?

Based on previous encounters between the two nations, Leliana knows where to put her money. And her life.

Lavellan sweeps into the ballroom with all the grace of a serpent among frozen mice, a wyvern return to the water, and a dragon gliding through the sky.

“Any bets as to how this goes?” Leliana asks Josephine, softly.

“Well,” Josephine answers, sounding reluctantly impressed.

The Inquisition’s reputation will only become more controversial after this, but Leliana imagines that it would be worth it.

“Celene,” Lavelan’s voice softly echoes out through the silent room.

(“I will not bow to someone who is my equal, and debatably my inferior,” Lavellan says, peacefully watching the scenery through the carriage window. “If she likes, she may bow. But if she wants me to lower my head to her she will have to dream it.”)

“Greetings neighbor,” Lavellan continues, unperturbed as she rises right back up the stairs, walking past dumbfounded nobles and guards a like to stand directly in front of the Empress of Orlais.

Compared to the washed out woman in blue and gold, Lavellan in her well trimmed furs and silk looks like an undeniable pillar of power.

Lavellan stands close to Celene, teeth bared, arms behind her back. Lavellan leans in, “I believe our meeting is long overdue. And where is the ever charming Briala?”

“Most holy,” Lavellan doesn’t turn even as Briala steps out of the crowd, “Thank you for coming.”

Lavellan leans away from Celene but doesn’t look away even as she leans on the railing. “Thank you for bringing my attention to this little fete, Briala. Such a lovely diversion. I look forward to watching how this all plays out. Drinks?”

“Ambassador,” Lavellan nods, passing by the straight backed templars with the sort of impunity Josephine can only imagine comes from knowledge and power beyond years. Most mages would at least give the templars a second glance.

Lavellan, most holy of the Dalish, is not most mages.

“Your Majesty,” Josephine moves to stand but Lavellan waves her hand.

“We are going to be working together for some time, Ambassador. I am going to have to insist that certain formalities be waved. Lavellan is fine, may I?”

“Of course,” Josephine turns her open hand towards a seat, “I am afraid that my offices are not quite as pleasing as most embassies would be.”

“Lack of comfort can be made up for with good and reasonable company,” Lavellan replies. She does not seem quite as intimidating as the others would describe her, Josephine admits. “I have heard of your talents, Lady Montilyet. My ambassadors speak highly of you, though I admit a certain level of disappointment that our meeting was not from you coming for a visit. Antiva is such a good friend of the Dales.”

“We appreciate all that you do for us,” Josephine says, “Does our current ambassador not suit your tastes?”

“Not at all,” Lavellan laughs, “She does quite well - as well as anyone does, I suppose. Rest assured, Lady Montilyet. Antiva is ever in our good graces; though the proposals for marriage remain - as ever, charming, at best.”

“I admit, they are mostly a jest at this point,” Josephine says.

“I should hope so,” Lavellan muses, resting her head on her fist as she smiles at Josephine, “Do you think you would ever visit me - or would you ever have visited me?”

“Perhaps, I do want to travel,” Josephine answers, “Presuming that we survive this.”

“You would be most welcome. We are so fond of our ambassadors. We have so few, you know,” Lavellan laughs. “We treasure them.”

“The Qun is one of the few, yes?” Josephine asks. She can’t help but be curious. “If you don’t mind me asking - how does that work?”

Lavellan hums, “Well. Surprisingly. The Qun and I, specifically, have a very delicate understanding. We respect each other. Neither of us like Tevinter, and while we do not like each other’s ideas so much, we can respect each other’s history and power enough to stay away. The Qun dislikes our religion and magic, but appreciates that we keep to our word and our borders. We, in turn, scorn their disregard for the spirit of the world and military vigilance, but we agree in the threat of magic unwatched. And we both have similar cultural choices - the raising of our children for certain roles, the organization of our military and division of governing branches.”

“But the Qun and your kingdom have only begun the exchange of ambassadors recently,” Josephine says, “These similarities have long existed past then.”

Lavellan hums, “As I said, the Qun and I have made certain arrangements.”

“You’ve gone to Par Vollen?”

“No,” Lavellan raises an eyebrow, “At the time I could not leave the borders of the Dales. I requested that Par Vollen come to me. We made our arrangement then and have been polite allies ever since.”

Josephine is fully aware of the very dangerous thread of knowledge that’s been hung before her.

“Then it is true?” Josephine asks. “The Qun assisted in your coup?”

Lavellan laughs, everything the rumors have ever said she was, “It was no coup, Ambassador. That would imply a certain type of force that simply was not used. In any case, the two of us are happy with our little arrangement. The Qun fights Tevinter from the outside, we fight it from within.”

“From within?”

Lavellan winks, “Games are not only for Orlesians, Ambassador. When this is over come stay with me for a time. You could pick up a few tricks.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

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