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#daveth
lethendralis-paints · 2 years
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A sketch for my supporter who requested Daveth as a Grey Warden. I always felt sorry for the guy and wanted for him to survive the joining! Loved drawing him. Давет з Драгон Ейдж для підписника. Don't forget that you can support me on Patreon!
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bumblewarden · 1 year
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maybe daveth would've survived if he didn't drink from the joining chalice like he was going for the last few drops of soda at a place with no free refills
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brosca drank after him and this was still about the most she had to angle it
not to victim blame or anything but daveth... cmon buddy......
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breninarthur · 3 months
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Happy Friday! My prompt is " are you feeling okay? " for Kallian and whoever you like!
I finally got round to this one! Thank you for sending ^-^
rated t for language. 458 words. post-joining in my nobody dies* au - mainly kallian & nelaros, some implied kallian & daveth. for @dadrunkwriting.
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Kallian's head hurt. Woodsmoke filled her nose and stung her eyes. Everything was too loud and muffled all at once. She blinked slowly, her vision swimming, and startled when she saw a man staring down at her.
"Oh good, you're awake!" It took her a second to register that voice as belonging to Alistair. "How do you feel?"
She sat up slowly, wincing at the sharp throb in the back of her head. She went to feel it instinctively, and though there was a small lump, she thankfully didn't seem to be bleeding.
"I feel like shit," she breathed, rubbing her face.
"Ah, yes, sorry about that, I tried to catch you but um... you fell rather quickly," Alistair said sheepishly, holding out his hand to help her up. She took it, swayed a little, unsteady, but soon enough everything came into focus. A little too much focus.
Kallian's gaze snapped to Alistair, who shifted uncomfortably under the attention. She stared at him, squinting in confusion and suspicion.
"Why do you..." she mumbled. "It feels like I can..."
Understanding dawned on his face. "That would be the-"
"Kallian!"
A shiver went down her spine as she felt him before whipping around in his direction. A slender elf barrelled her way, lifting his arms to embrace her as he skidded to a halt, and dropping them awkwardly as he seemed to come to his senses.
"Nelaros," Kallian smiled in relief. Duncan had said that he was okay, officially a Grey Warden as soon as he passed out from whatever vile concoction they'd just drank from the chalice - but it was difficult to see him just collapsed on the ground.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asked, a crease in his brow as he looked her over from head to toe. She supposed it must have been strange for him too. The first one down, and so she assumed the first to wake. Creators knew what sort of thoughts had been rushing through his head.
"I'll just go and check on the others," Alistair interjected awkwardly from behind, before heading over to where Duncan was talking calmly with a pale, shaking Jory.
"I'm fine," she answered Nelaros politely. "Are you?"
"Yes."
Days of travelling together from Denerim hadn't done much to get rid of the awkwardness between them. But then, Kallian wasn't sure what else could be expected of two strangers whose wedding was utterly scuppered, especially when they were travelling with Daveth.
Daveth.
Kallian spun around out of instinct to search for him, but she knew exactly where to look. Past Nelaros, where Alistair had walked off to, was another... feeling. Daveth stood chatting seriously, leaning against a tent pole.
She sagged in relief.
He'd made it.
They all had.
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lavalampelfchild · 11 months
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To Answer the Call (Wardens at Ostagar), Ch. 8
Summary: The time has come for the Joining, and the recruits gather with Duncan and the other Wardens to undergo the mysterious ritual.  No one can predict what will happen, only that it will change their lives irrevocably...
AO3: Here.
A/N: As a heads-up to any tumblr-readers I have here; I renamed the ao3 version of this fic because I’m going to be breaking up my huge DAO narrative into individual stories that deal with each arc of the narrative.  All of these mini-stories will go in one single series, which is going to be what keeps the title To Answer the Call.  I am also going to start posting just previews here on tumblr, while linking to the ao3 version of the story because these chapters are getting longer, and I don’t have scripts that help me format everything quicker… xD Apologies for any inconvenience!
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Preview: 
They didn’t have long to rest.  As soon as everyone was able to stand on their own, Duncan herded them to a secluded corner of the camp and bade them wait.  Richu and Grigor had gone to the healing tents to fetch Velyn.  Alistair and Rondall were left to stay with the recruits and guard the Joining site.  
The night was dark enough, at least, that no curious onlookers from the king’s camp would see them.
Always find a silver lining, Alistair thought darkly.
The unease was palpable. The recruits were wary and tense. Ser Jory was the only one moving, pacing back and forth, face tight, gait stiff.
“This damned Joining,” he muttered. “The more I hear of it, the less I like it.”
Beside him, Daveth groaned, “Enough with your blubbering, ser knight.  It’s already happening, isn’t it?  Might as well shut up.”
Ser Jory made a frustrated noise.  “Of course you’d say that, you don’t—”  He broke off and exhaled carefully, hands twitching at his side.  His face was a twisted scowl of pain and frustration.  Alistair exchanged a wary look with Rondall.
“Look, Ser Jory,” he began in what he hoped was a sufficiently calm voice. “It’s going to be—”
“Have I not earned my place?” Ser Jory demanded, barreling through Alistair’s attempt at reassurance. “These damned tests, I—What is the purpose of lying to us about it all?”
“You’re going to be fine, Ser Jory—” Alistair tried again.  Daveth’s sharp scoff cut him off.
“Who gives a damn?” he sneered.  His eyes were hard, gaze locked firmly on Ser Jory.  “Maybe it’s tradition.  Or maybe they’re just trying to annoy you.  Damned easy thing to do, isn’t it?”
That got Ser Jory’s hackles up.  “Lying to us is tradition, then?”  His voice was rising.  Alistair shot another look Rondall’s way.  Could use a little help here.
Rondall stepped forward, “Alright, that’s enough—”
“All these secrets, all these tests, and what purpose do they serve!?  There is no honor in it—”
“Honor?”  Daveth marched forward to meet Ser Jory in challenge. “What would you know of honor?  The way you’re griping about it.”
“I know more of the matter than you, clearly—”
“Clearly!  Clearly, you’re talking out your arse.  You’d cut and run at the smallest thing, not even thought about why they might be having us go through all this—”
“To sacrifice us without our knowledge—”
“Because you wouldn’t be here if they’d told you what you’d be doing, and someone has to stop this damned Blight!  You saw those darkspawn out there, same as I!  You want to talk about honor?  What about that pretty wife of yours you keep going on about?  Isn’t it the honorable thing to want to protect her? Wouldn’t you die if it meant keeping her safe?”
Ser Jory’s face was ashen. “Of course, I—”
“Maybe you’ll die,” Daveth snarled through gritted teeth. “Maybe we’ll all die.  If nobody stops the darkspawn, then we’ll all die for sure.”
“They still should have told us.  My wife—” Ser Jory’s eyes were bright, wet with tears, the pupils dark and small.  Fearful.  “If I’d have known, I—I wouldn’t have left—”
“That’s enough!”
End Preview.
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Confession: Daveth is so sexy. Excuse me, Mr. Cutpurse, I *do* have a few wishes you could fulfill before the battle <3
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enasallavellan · 9 months
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The Sea, the Stars, and the Albatross
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Serafina and the other recruits arrive at the Ostagar camp and Duncan sends the recruits to their respective teams. But when Serafina is tasked with finding Alistair, she finds herself alone and unsure in the buzz of the massive camp.
If you like what I've written, consider reblogging or commenting. And feel free to message me with questions, prompts, or just to say hello - I love to hear from ya'll!
The rocky trail they traversed was littered with stones, gaining shape as they walked. Smooth lumps of rock sharpened into corners, building up to dilapidated walls and columns.  The further they ventured, the more defined the structures became—crumbled walls climbed into towering pillars and arched doorways, while tumbled piles of rocks transformed into ancient buildings adorned with intricately carved gargoyles. The gargoyles glared down at the small troop of Wardens with their stone eyes.
Serafina found herself walking close to Robin, feeling uneasy under the stony glares. "Is this Ostagar?" she asked.
Robin nodded, "The very same."
Henrietta chimed in with a laugh, wiggling her fingers, "It's awful dramatic. Like whoever built it was trying to make it as spooky and creepy as possible."
"It's Tevinter," Robin explained. "They ruled almost all of Thedas back then, and Ferelden wasn’t even united, just a roaming bunch of tribes. That’s why it was built on the edge of the Kokari Wilds - to keep the tribes from encroaching on their territory. 
"Oh, the crazy magic people." Henrietta said, looking at Serafina and grinning, "Not normal magic people, like crazy, let's-make-deals-with-demons-for-power magic-mwahahahah!" She threw her head back, cackling into the air and earning a few looks of concern from the other wardens.
Duncan stopped at the edge of a bridge leading towards the camp and called the Wardens to gather around. "Wardens, report to the King's camp for your orders. Recruits, a moment of your time."
Robin hesitated, glancing between Serafina and Duncan. With a reassuring smile, Duncan nodded, "You may stay with your charges a while longer."  Serafina didn't mean to sigh in relief, but the sound rushed out of her nonetheless.
The other Wardens had already begun crossing the bridge, their chatter and laughter sounding less like they were heading to war and more like they were on their way to a picnic.
Duncan addressed the remaining recruits, "Each of you will have tasks vital to becoming a Grey Warden. You will be divided into groups, each led by an official Warden. They know what all know what must to be done, so I ask that you follow their orders as you would mine. Do we all agree?"
Heads bobbed in silent agreement, except for Henrietta, who offered a mock salute and exclaimed, "Aye, aye!"
Duncan chuckled, "Your enthusiasm will be an asset, Henrietta. I would like you and Lady Alice to report to Warden Theo. He is our liaison to the King while I am away, so he should find him near the King's tent. I'm sure someone can put you in the right direction.”
“Aye, aye!” Henrietta repeated with a grin.
Ulrich snorted, "That's for ships, dust-”
Duncan interrupted the impending argument, "Cosette and Ulrich, you will report to Warden Arilya. She should be by the kennels."
"I knew there were dogs!" Alice burst, "Mabari?"
He chuckled,“Given your status, I assume you are familiar with them.” 
She nodded excitedly.
Another soft laugh rumbled out of Duncan, " After you complete your tasks, I'm sure you'll have some time to become acquainted with the kennelmaster."
Serafina shivered with a sudden chill as she scanned the other recruits. Henrietta with Cosette, Ulrich with Alice, that left her and…
From across the group, Daveth flashed a grin and started toward her, "Should consider myself lucky, me being with you."
She took a step back, but Robin caught her before she could go far, “Don’t worry, Duncan's going to put you on Alistair's team. He's sweet - a bit of a muppet sometimes - but sweet. He won't let anything happen to you." When Serafina didn't answer, she leaned in and whispered, "Besides - he's practically a baby - just turned twenty, I think."
She didn't care how old he was.
Daveth laughed, "Worried about the camp? Don't you worry your pretty head; I'll watch that back, I will."
“Come on,” Robin whispered, hurrying her towards the bridge, “Try to ignore him. He's harmless, just thinks he’s the Maker’s gift to women. Tried that nonsense with me, if you can believe it.” She chuckled, “Don’t worry - I’ll take him down a peg after the Joining.”
It was of some comfort, but her anxieties grew as they crossed the bridge, drawing closer and closer to the camp. The earth beneath the bridge plunged, sending Serafina's stomach into anxious flips. Daveth walked beside them, his words blending into the general rumble of the camp ahead. A few pebbles skittered down a cavity on the edge of the bridge, and Serafina unconsciously watched their progress along the stone and down into the void below. She hurried to still-intact side, heart pounding.
"Afraid of heights?" Daveth commented.
"No." She said quickly.
"Well, I don't mind them at all - I'll put myself between you and those drops, yeah?"
"I haven't been here in a while." Robin interjected, “I think this whole place was full of buildings - you can still see lines of stone in the ground sometimes, and there are still paving and arches in some places."
"Grand place, it must have been," Daveth said with a nod.
More troops were arriving behind them, and the bridge seemed to vibrate with the footfalls of men and horses alike. Even in the Crow's nest, Serafina had never seen so many men in one place - and each and every one of them was armed with blades or bows.  Serafina quickened her steps and Robin kept pace beside her. Being back on solid earth was a relief, but her nerves knotted back up when she saw the tents before her. Tents, tents, and tents, stretching through the entire area and extending past the ruined walls to the hills behind, looking almost like a painting from this far off.
"Tennyson!" Robin called out as they neared the singular guard into the camp. 
The man blinked at her a few times before a lazy smile appeared on his face, "Warden Robin - good to have you back. Your children are in the King's camp further back. Not sure how well they're behaving, but I think they survived without you."
"And I come bearing more." She said, gesturing behind her.
The guard nodded, "I saw that. Got a good crop of 'em." He leaned past her wide frame to look at them, "Wardens come in all shapes and sizes, yeah?"
Robin nodded, "When you're a Grey Warden, that sort of thing doesn't matter so much." She looked around, "Have you seen Warden Alistair? He's going to be mentoring Serafina here."
The man leaned on his polearm, saying woozily, "I think I saw heading towards the mage's tents. Looked a bit miffed."
Robin groaned, "Is the Revered Mother still weaponizing that poor boy?"
"You know how it goes." He droned.
Robin snickered, "Found a way to sleep like that, eh?"
He nodded, "People have to go through two gates before they get to me - I'm a little on the useless side, might as well enjoy it."
Robin snorted, "Consider yourself lucky." 
He leaned around Robin again to look at Serafina, "Mages' tents are just to the right, walk a minute or two and you'll see the fancy tents and templars clanking around. Always gotta make an impression, the Circle."
"You're not lying." Robin chuckled, putting a hand on Serafina's shoulder, "Look hard, and you can already see a bit of it - see that purple tent top?"
Serafina squinted, "Yes I think so." 
"Just walk straight towards it, don't worry about anything else going on around you. Just straight to that purple tent." 
Serafina had almost forgotten that Robin wouldn't be going with her.
“Look a bit nervous, there.” Daveth said, “Could I interest you in an escort?”
Robin slung her arm around Daveth's shoulders, "Actually, I'm coming with you to meet Ser Jory - I want to see what all the fuss is about." When Daveth looked back at Serafina, Robin started to walk, pulling him with her in the most jovial abduction Serafina had ever seen, "Oh, Daveth, she's a big girl - she can tie her boots and everything. I think she can handle a few hundred yards” She jostled him, "Now come on, let's go meet the infamous knight."
“What about after?” Serafina asked softly.
Robin smiled - though this time it seemed a bit sad. "That's going to depend on this next bit. Once the Joining is finished, we'll talk a little more about that." She patted Daveth roughly on the back, "Now let's get going. Give the girl some space."
Serafina watched her go, her chest tightening as Robin walked further and further away. She looked back toward the tip of the purple tent Robin had pointed out. It wasn't that far, not really. She looked this way and that, examining the people around her. Everyone seemed too busy attending to their own business to notice her. Again, she focused on the tent, watching a small tassel rustling in the wind as she quickened towards it. It was the same walk she always performed as she passed the Chantry on her way to and from the Arl's residence. As the memory reared up, Serafina lowered her head, shoulders hunching as she rushed forward.
Finally, a smattering of tents came into view. Many of them were colored like the one she had been following, purples and yellow and greens, many with patterns or other embellishments. But the pretty colors and waving flags seemed to disappear as she spotted a templar - and he was looking right at her.
"You, there." He said gruffly, "State your business."
Serafina eased towards him, keeping out of range of his hands, "I… I was told to come to the mages' tents and-"
With an annoyed sigh, the templar droned, "The mages are not to be interrupted. Move along."
"Oh…" She looked at her boots, mudded and scuffed from the long journey.
"Move along." He grumbled.
She swallowed, looking up at him, "I'm looking for a Grey Warden named Alistair - I was told he went in this direction."
"Not sure - ask the tranquil. He sees everything."
She squinted at him, "Tranquil?"
The other templar shook his head, "We have better things to do than answer your questions."
"Move along." The first ordered.
Tucking her chin to her chest, she managed a nod, hurrying in the direction they had pointed. She spotted a man standing idly aside. The mages were practicing and training just beyond the camp or in the Circle the templars guarded. But this man stood alone, back ramrod straight and head held high. He didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular, but when Serafina came close, his eyes focused on her, "Good afternoon, young lady." His voice was quiet and vague, as though floating on a light breeze.
Serafina looked him up and down - he stood so still he could easily be mistaken for a well-crafted sculpture. His gaze was piercing and intent - and stayed locked to her own eyes. They didn't wander or stare, just gazed straight at her in silent question.
"Are you…." Serafina worried her hands, but she didn't reach for the scarf tied around her hair, not quite as afraid of him as he was of the others, "Are you tranquil?"
He nodded, "I am one of the tranquil, yes."
She examined him, spotting the brand on his forehead. She recognized the raised, silvery scar - she had seen Crows put hot iron to their skin to adorn themselves with another testament to their resilience and stoicism. But that didn't seem to fit this man,
"Are you alright?" She asked.
He didn't smile, but the question in his face smoothed, "Your concern is most kind, but I am in no distress."
She looked around - nobody else seemed to pay attention to the man. "Are… are you sure?"
"You are concerned with my behavior." His voice stayed in one tone, never deviating. "I can no longer cast spells, so I spend my time enchanting. It is a satisfying endeavor. It provides wealth for the Circle, as we receive very little from charity."
Serafina had heard many things about the Circles. Sometimes she wondered which would be worse - her life in Lord Vaughn's claws or at the mercy of the templars. But she had never heard of a mage who couldn't use magic.
"But you're in the circle." She said.
"My magic and will was weak." He explained, "I was made tranquil to prevent possession. My mind was severed from the fade." His face didn't change as he added, "I am no longer dangerous. I no longer fear demons."
Serafina slowly shook her head, eyes wide, "They… took everything from you."
He shook his head, "You need not be concerned. They took nothing from me. I was given a gift - my life is peaceful now. I am alive, productive, and a danger to no one." He shook his head, "Perhaps we may speak of something else? Do you need assistance?"
She started to shake her head, wanting nothing more than to be away from this unsettling man. She felt sorry for him, but his detachment from his own situation sent chills down her spine. "Oh - yes. I was told you might know where Warden Alistair is?"
Without a pause to think, he raised one arm, pointing towards some ruined stairs. Serafina forced a smile, "Thank you." and quickly bustled off. 
The ruins were more complete here, with floors, columns, and edges of a steeped roof. She looked around, spotting a man in the tell-tale blue warden armor talking to one of the mages. The warden's posture was relaxed, and his grin held a mark of humor. The mage, on the other hand, was clearly irritated. Serafina hovered out of sight from them, not wanting to interrupt.
After a few more seconds, the mage stormed away, and Serafina quickly rounded the corner, hoping they didn't notice she had been hiding there. As she drew closer, her scarf twisted in her hands, the silk's whisper reassuring. If this was Alistair, he might be young, but he was big. She swallowed, anxiously waving her hand in an awkward wave, "Excuse me?"
The man looked down at her, laughing, "Aw, you're late - you missed the whole show!" He grinned, "It was top-notch - my favorite part was the parade."
That was utterly bizarre.
"What?" was all she managed.
He leaned against the nearby wall, "Delivering messages between the Chantry and the mages. Awkward." He squinted at her, face exaggerated into an obvious joke, "I don't suppose you happen to be another mage sent to scold me?"
Her heart dropped, and she took a step back.
"Oh!" He said, "Maker's breath, I apologize. I meant it as a joke - fell flat, that one."
"Ah." She said noncommittally. Vague was better when dealing with someone this big and well-armed. "What were you two fighting about?"
He sighed, "The Chantry is upset that we're bringing mages into the war. So they've been working very hard to show the mages how unwelcome they are. I'm sure the Revered Mother meant it as an insult, sending me."
Desperate to avoid her fear taking full grip on her, she asked, "How is sending a Grey Warden an insult?"
He sighed, shaking his head, "Because before becoming a Grey Warden, I was a templar-"
It was a trap.
She took off towards the camp proper, panic seeping into every step and every breath.
But he was behind her, shouting after her.
She tried to go faster, but fear had made her clumsy. Her foot caught on some debris, and she tumbled to the ground, scraping her hands and bruising her knees. She scrambled up to escape but noticed Alistar had stopped. He was kneeling a few feet from her, hands up in surrender, "I'm not going to hurt you! I'm not a templar anymore, I promise - I didn't even want to be one in the first place!"
Serafina scooted away from him, putting more distance between them. She examined him, still crouched. He wasn't frowning or sneering, there was no wicked glint in his eye, and his hands were open and empty. 
She didn't run - but she was ready to.
"The Chantry raised me." He continued, "Becoming a templar was a decision made for me long ago."
His face showed no sign of lying, but she remained wary. "So… you won't take me to the circle?"
He shook his head rapidly, "As soon as I was given the change, I left. Duncan saw I wasn't happy and figured my training against mages could double for fighting darkspawn. It was the best thing that's ever happened to me."
She couldn't think of an answer, still watching every movement.
"I'm not going to hurt you." He repeated, getting up and offering a hand, "Need help?"
How hadn't she noticed that he had gotten closer?
"I apologize for scaring you." He said, "And for the badly timed joke about you being a mage."
Maybe he wasn't so scary after all.
Serafina took his hand, shaking as he helped her up. She stepped away from him as soon as her feet were under her, looking down at the ground, "I'm sorry."
He chuckled, "Don't apologize, I would have been a rubbish templar anyway, Too likable and charming."
She darted her eyes at him and back to the ground, nodding vaguely.
Alsitar squinted at her, "Wait a second - you're one of Duncan's new recruits, aren't you?"
She watched her scarf as it wrapped around her fingers and silently nodded.
He winced, "I should have recognized you from his letters. I apologize.
She fussed with the scarf more, "How?"
"Well, he didn’t exactly send any sketches, but he said there were two mages, and since you were sent to me, I assumed." He tilted his head, "Now… are you Cosette or Serafina?
She opened her mouth to answer, but Alistar waved his hands.
"No, no, no, no, let me guess, let me guess!" He looked at her face, "Your accent is definitely not Ferelden - and you've got that, I-live-in-a-warm-and-sunny-place complexion. I'm guessing Antivan?" 
"Half." She heard herself say - she hadn't planned to answer, but the smile on seemed to pull the words from her, "My mother was Ferelden, but I grew up in Antiva."
“So, Serafina or Cosette… Cosette sounds a bit Orlesian, doesn't it? So I'm guessing you're Serafina."
She nodded,
"Yes!" He said with another grin. "You've witnessed the rare event in which I'm right about something."
Serafina's smile was a bit forced, but she hoped it conveyed some goodwill.
"Right - well, no need to be so nervous. I grew out of biting random strangers years ago."
Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"So," He motioned and started walking, "I suppose I should Introduce myself as late as we are into the conversation." He tapped his chest plate," I'm Alistar, one of the newer Grey Wardens." He chuckled, rubbing his hands together, "But not for long, with more of you coming through."
She shifted her weight, "Duncan said you would be mentoring me?"
"That's right." He said brightly, "You've been put on the best team, I'll have you know." Then he leaned down, saying in a loud stage whisper, "Don't tell the others - they can't know Duncan has favorites."
"Oh…okay?"
He put a finger to his lips, "Just, shhhh."  
It was almost ridiculous enough to make her smile.
Almost.
"So…" Alistair began, "Duncan saved me from a life of prayer, boredom, and devising ways to be the worst Templar I could be. You?"
She worried her scarf around her fingers, "I worked in a noble house in Denerim for a long time and I… finally killed his son. So they were going to hang me."
"Finally?" Then his mouth opened a bit as if to say something, but instead he nodded slowly, “I…. see." He quickly reverted to a smile, "Well, Duncan obviously saw something in you - he spoke highly of you in his letters.”
She shook her head, lowering her eyes, "He felt sorry for me."
"I doubt that." He chuckled, "He has a good eye for these things."
She wasn't sure she believed him, but she nodded anyway.
He glanced down at her as they walked, taking a dramatic step away and holding his hands up again, "Alright, alright, I understand. Keep my hands to myself and no falling madly and suddenly in love." He nodded, "Message received, considered, and approved."
She blinked in confusion, "What?"
He waved his hands, "You're not even my type - I have a soft spot for redheads. I'm terrified of brown hair, you see - reminds me of tree roots. I sometimes mistake brunette for sylvans, and it's very upsetting." He let out a sigh, wiping an invisible tear, "I'm sorry to break it to you like this, but it simply couldn't work between us.
She had never felt a rush of relief than in that moment. He could still be lying, true, but he was so explicit about it - and there was sincerity behind the jokes.
But…
"Thank you." She felt herself say.
He chuckled, dragging out the last word as long as he could, "Of course, buddy."
Her mind screamed for her to run, to not trust his man. But somehow, despite all of her logic to the contrary. She did trust him. So she steeled herself and nodded, "Thank you, Alistair."
"Good." He dusted his hands off, 'Now that that's out of the way, we should go see Duncan. The busier we are, the quicker the heartbreak will fade."
She smiled nervously and followed him. And as she listened to his neverending chatter, she suddenly felt safer.
Read the full fic from the beginning at my A03 here!
If you’re willing and able, feel free to donate to my ko-fi or drop a tip in the jar to help me afford my many medications to keep the crazy at bay!
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heniareth · 1 year
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Oh, Grey Warden: Chapter 5
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The Wilds
They entered what Duncan called the Korcari Wilds, which was the wider area in which Ostagar lay, barely an hour into their march. And a march it was; Duncan was harrying them along at a pace that had Astala slump down on her blanket as soon as they set up camp and only get up for cooking and dinner under grave protests. Their march lasted for two days. On their second day of travel, they started to see pools of murky water; nothing like the stream that had run through the Brecilian Forest, and probably pretty warm and full of nasty things. The air was heavy and humid. Only the salt and the wind were missing for Astala to feel like she was right back in summertime Denerim.
The taint had started to leave visible marks on Ilanlas. The bite mark had kinda sorta healed, but also blackened further. Dark veins were now faintly visible under his skin. He sometimes stumbled but kept on holding his head high. Other times Astala caught him muttering to himself in elven, then pressing on with renewed strength. Other than that, he spoke less and less. The only consolation here was that the fever was apparently gone. Her own temperature hadn’t risen yet, and she was extremely grateful for that. Even so, she could feel something building up inside of her; something lay heavy on her chest and shoulders, made her stomach grumble—and not in the hungry way—and kept her eyes open until they burned at night.
How much of all of this was the Blight eating away at her and how much was the fact that she was terrified of it? Either way, it was making her lose her mind. The fact that there was no telling made everything worse. She took her medicine, which had started to taste good, collected Andraste’s Grace where she could find it, tried to identify elfroot, which apparently was a common plant in these parts and had medicinal properties. And still, in the back of her mind, there was that little voice that had nothing to do with the whispers and that was expecting her to drop dead with every step. Or wake up one day to find her skin blistered and her sanity gone.
In the afternoon of their second day of travel, Duncan ripped her out of these and other happy thoughts.
“There,” he said, pointing ahead. “We have reached Ostagar.”
Ilanlas, who’d been doing little but trotting along for the better part of the afternoon, lifted his head.
They’d made it.
We’ve made it to Ostagar right in time for Christmas! I would’ve loved to do something more Christmas-themed, but alas, here’s where we are in the story right now XD XD XD Middle of summer in the most humid place in Ferelden ever. Maybe next year. That said, I wish you all a very happy few days! If you celebrate, Christmas or otherwise, or don’t celebrate, I wish you all the joy and good food these next few days can hold and then some. Take good care of yourselves!
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ashhawkburning · 2 years
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While working on the Goblet De-Gobbler, I found that while each warden type had a separate cutscene file (HM, HF, EM, EF, DM, DF, though DM and DF are a story I've already told), there was also a suffixless cutscene file that was commented out (ie made inactive) in the pre-cutscene script. It was pretty clear when I previewed it in the toolset that it was an early, unused version: people who drink from the goblet get a blood red particle effect on their eyes (as does the PC for a moment right at the start), Duncan's head clips into the camera, the blood spill flickers, and there's some wooden tables scattered about.
A couple of screenshots of awkward moments are under the cut.
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sugarbubbleslove · 2 years
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Daveth - you suck
I don't know how many times I've played this game but I decided to check out Daveth's stats after having that little conversation with him in the Wilds.
He's a cutpurse and a pickpocketer...who has NO stealing skills.
No wonder he got caught by Duncan.
At least he could have done with investing some points into lockpicking - what use are you Daveth if you can't pick all those locked chests?!
(don't mind me - now I'm wondering about how Morrigan/Daveth would have worked out...hmm...)
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bluerose5 · 2 years
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Some decent pics that I’ve gotten of Darrian so far. (Don’t mind the blood.) Wish there were more longer hairstyles that better showed off his ears without so much clipping. I’m sure there are mods out there, but one glimpse of the DAO and DA2 selections on Nexus was one too many for me. I’ll be sticking to the vanilla options. 😅
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calicostorms · 1 year
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As always I reiterate that Daveth Dragonage is criminally underrated
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bumblewarden · 1 year
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(brosca voice) Epic fail!
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breninarthur · 1 year
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IT'S FRIDAY ASTER!! I come begging for some Kallian Tabris & Daveth pretty please! With the prompt "(Lure) Silent beckoning of the forest" from the Eerie Vague Autumn prompts, please??? (It's always Halloween in my heart, okay LOL)
HAPPY FRIDAY NIRI AND HAPPY MARCH HALLOWEEN!!! 💖
thank you for the prompt! this was my first time writing awakening-era kallian :) not quite sure if i really filled the prompt lmao but i enjoyed it anyway! (apologies in advance.)
rated t. kallian tabris & daveth for @dadrunkwriting. 811 words. creepiness.
*
"Something's wrong," Kallian muttered, holding out her arm to stop her companions.
"It's just the Blackmarsh," Nathaniel replied, his voice low. It was an eerie place, full of fog and cricketing bugs, and they'd each fallen silent without discussion as they crossed into its boundaries.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kallian remarked, impatient as she turned to inspect him. They hadn't quite gotten used to each other yet. When Kallian looked at him, she saw his father who'd sold her people into slavery. When Nathaniel looked at her, he saw his father's murderer, the one who'd disgraced his family name.
"My... family used to tell me stories of this place," he said, stepping forward and waiting for her to carry on. "It's haunted."
"The Veil here is thin," Velanna interrupted, clutching to her staff tightly.
"Great," Kallian grumbled.
"Nothing our fearless leader can't handle," Anders grinned. She forced a smile back, but he reminded her too much of Alistair for it to be genuine. She hadn't seen him for weeks.
"Just be on your guard," she said, drawing her sword and hefting her shield into place.
Within the hour; the marshlands had separated them.
"Shit," Kallian hissed, stumbling past another tree she'd been sure was one of her Wardens. Travelling with them was incredibly different to what she was used to. They were not her friends, and they never would be. She was their Warden-Commander. Their Duncan. She'd brought them into this forsaken place, and it was her responsibility to get them out.
"Anders?" she called, suppressing the shiver that ran through her at the prospect of raising her voice. With any luck, her Wardens would be the only ones who heard her.
"Velanna?" She would have plenty to say when they did reunite, Kallian was sure of that. She reminded her of Morrigan. The thought made her grit her teeth. If her best friend hadn't run off as soon as she could, Velanna's disappointment and scathing remarks might have been a fond reminder.
"Nathaniel?" There was still no answer.
The Blackmarsh was suffocating in its darkness. The tall, willowy trees forbade moonlight, and she'd stupidly been relying on the mages for light. It had barely been something she'd needed to think about before, between Morrigan, Wynne, and Shale.
Every twig that snapped underfoot was a painful buzz at the back of her neck. She felt like she was being watched.
She missed Ciarth.
"Kallian?"
She spun around at the sound of her name. There was no one there. Her breath came quick, pluming ahead of her like campfire smoke but not half as comforting.
"Oh, you bastard," she whispered shakily, her wide eyes wildly darting from side-to-side. Demons, spirits, whatever it was... she hated it.
Kallian slowly pivoted back, ready to press on and find her group.
A scream tore through her throat without mercy. She staggered backwards, tripping over a sprawling root and landing in a heap on the wet ground.
As she'd turned, she'd been nose to nose with an impossibility.
"D-Daveth?" she whimpered, gaping in horror.
He stared at her. It wasn't him, it couldn't have been, she knew it. If not for the fact he'd died over a year ago – he wasn't smiling. Daveth was always smiling.
"Kallian," he said, and Maker, did it sound like him. She'd thought that voice was familiar.
He sounded strange, though. There was no laughter in his voice, no hint of a joke ready to go.
Dried blood drenched the lower half of his face, and his nose sat at an odd angle.
She knew it wasn't him. But for the life of her, she couldn't tear her eyes away.
"How did you do it?" he asked, standing stock still. For a moment she thought he was talking about the archdemon, and panic throbbed in her chest once again at the thought of anyone finding out about Morrigan's ritual. Of her part in it.
"Do–"
"Let me die?"
A lump stuck in her throat, and tears quickly flooded to her eyes.
"I–"
"Why didn't you help me?"
"Daveth–"
"And now you've forgotten me."
Her hand flew to her Warden's amulet. She'd scratched his name and Jory's on the back of it almost as soon as she'd gotten it.
"No," she whispered, struggling to her feet despite the sickness in her stomach threatening to spill over. This was the Gauntlet all over again.
When she stood, her sword shaking in her hand, Not-Daveth still stared at the spot she had been. His eyebrows pinched upwards, his head tilted slightly. He looked unbearably sad.
He wasn't real. Not a ghost either. Daveth was gone. She had to say something to vanquish whatever demonic magic was at work.
Kallian drew in a deep breath.
"Fuck off."
A rustle of leaves.
"Commander?"
She turned to see who it was.
When she looked back; Daveth was gone again.
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stinkrascal · 2 months
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got a lot on my mind... and, well... in it 🦑
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lordzenos · 10 months
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bardic inspiration in baldur's gate 3
instruments include the drum, flute, lute, lyre, violin + bonus: no instrument!
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