#white hair is very rare in this elven clan

[omiramotakiart]

Some sketches/concept art and lore.

The Elven Pantheon often leaves ample room for interpretation about the appearances of their main divinities, sometimes portrayed a certain way to further a narrative, other times using abstract imagery, one popular depiction of the Goddess of Death, Eduela, comes from multiple accounts of a long gone religious group that claimed to have seen her, trained assassins who dedicated their lives to do her bidding, their name long lost, most information is dubious at best. They describe their Goddess as a tall figure of blue hair and white eyes, skin of iridescent hues, one head of auburn hair, downing a helmet, is on her right, one of black hair and a flower crown is on her left, representations of violent and natural death, on her chest, the head of a newborn, child death, as vivid as those descriptions are, none of the very few known statues depict such image, it is relevant to say, however, statues of Eduela are considered blasphemy, as according to the Elves, she does not demand worshiping to her divinity, so these could hardly be reliable information.

There is a saying, “The poor don’t mourn,” it has a somehow logical origin, albeit based on classism, for elven costumes dictates the use of mourning wear consisting in multiple heavy layers and masks, all made out of copper and copper based dyes that will slowly change color with time, to be removed once the color shift is completed, as expected, lower classes can’t always afford such garments, some opting for simple veils and even just a cloak for some, cheaper dyes that change color faster, as one can imagine, the tradition is falling out of favor among those of lower resources.

First picture depics an aristocrat from the isles of Gresta, wearing traditional garments with the addition of a veil to the headwear, possibly due to the illness he suffers (of which little detail is known yet involves sensibility to the light and processes of draining blood) nex to him, a local from Ivress, a working class woman who is most likely wearing accessories and facepaint resembling of the leyends of dragonfolk of the region. Following picture is said aristocrat and his sister, dressed in a similar fashion, her being a victim of the same illness.

Chalkahs are highly adaptable insectoid beings of appearance akin to the common centipede yet there is no real connection between the species, all attributed to a case of convergent evolution on their body plan. These creatures are capable of lying up to a dozen of eggs that will be nurtured by glands on the mother's underside, despite being born from eggs these are covered in a membrane that bursts out as soon as it touches the outside, of composition similar to a placenta, which the mother would eat to create nutritious fluid for the hatchlings. Native to the south of Ashal yet rarely found in the wild, these creatures have been domesticated by the Fahrraeh to carry their wagons on their backs and have become a sacred animal of sorts, so much that those who form a bond with one from birth to death are highly esteemed among the clan. It is not uncommon to see Chalkahs growing layers of fur-like structures on their carapaces when in colder weather, these work as an aislant of sorts, when shed on warmer places, they can be used to make either jewelry or weaponry.

#my art #fantasy worldbuilding #worldbuilding #sketchdump #fantasy wip #wip #fantasy work in progress #fantasy world

[arlenianchronicles]

Day 6 of @doriathweek: Beleg and Mablung -- The Children of Húrin

I finally got around to designing Mablung! While I was colouring him, I realized that he looked like a Midnight Elf version of Fingon ^^;; (because of the braids loll) I’d say both he and Beleg are either escorting Túrin around, or bringing him back to his room, or something XDD

#midnight elves are from my stories btw #i've been basing my silm character designs from there #so both beleg and mablung are midnight elves here #white hair is very rare in this elven clan #also beleg is looking at turin like #this is a good time to give the boy a hug #and a kiss too #hugs and kisses are the best #meanwhile mablung looks like he couldn't care less loll #art #my art #doriathweek #tolkien #silmarillion #elves #sindar #beleg #mablung #turin #edain #digital #digital art #tolkien elves #art prompts

[blankdblank]

Logical Pt 2

She looked so beautiful with her hair splayed across the pillow her eyes closed, a happy sigh from her dream escaping her slightly opened lips...as well as some drool. The image was locked in the mind of the Elf King who had been among the group bidding you farewell that had caught sight of you asleep passing your room on the garden path this morning through the open window allowing the breeze in.

Three days of searching and getting to know you a bit and there was no pony to send you with as they had assumed your pony had been eaten by the spiders with only location of your lost pack near to where you were located. In a lightly armored Elven robe in deep grey with matching pants and long boots you adored on one of the guards in Rivendell, that Elrond so graciously gifted a set of, you were watched skipping down the path they set you upon to finish your task with your long braid swaying and bouncing behind you.

Off to serve an eviction notice was what your mission was, and alone for the stretch of the forest you followed the path hearing echoes of Elven guards from high branches above growing fainter and fainter the nearer the edge of the forest grew to you. Out into the open rocky plains you trekked hearing no one or nothing around in the moonlit night. Not resting for the night you eyed the mountain in the distance and kept sliding and climbing your way over the maze of harsh terrain to your goal.

Right at sunrise you stopped on the other side of the small bridge crossing the river rushing from underneath Erebor closer to Dale. Specks of embers from a recently put out fire and hushed echoes of commands given were the clues that the Company camping out in the ruined city had spotted you. Hunched over however into your bag you reached unaware of the fiery haired Elleth behind you inching nearer hoping to keep you from a fiery death after having followed you to ensure your safe arrival to your assumed destination of Laketown.

Rising up with trumpet in hand you straightened up wetting your lips. Though before she or the distant Dwarves or Elf Prince coming to find his friend on the edge of the forest could do a thing you let out the start of a wake up call that repeated three times over until a guttural purr was heard through the thick stony gates. Again you played the call then lowered your trumpet you set down on your bag pulling a bundle of folded parchment and a notepad and pen for beside the horn. Growling menacingly the Dragon stared you down baring his teeth only to pause at your foot tucking back for a curtsy to the creature with his head cocking slightly while the Dwarves huddled together in the shadow of a large ring of stones from the collapsed outer walls.

“Good Morning Smaug the Magnanimous, I do apologize for the hour of my call but my business is a matter of urgency and it is best for you to have time to prepare your legal defense.”

“Legal defense?” He asked joining his feet to sit down with his tail flicking around his body like a giant coiled cat in his glance from Tauriel a few yards behind you who bowed her head and tried to straighten up feigning a sense of calm as you had. “And just what court could hold authority over myself?”

A rapid set of giggles from you had his eyes back on you and his pupils focusing on your point at him, “Exactly what I said, Dragon, but, all the same the complaint was filed and the legal I’s must be dotted and every T crossed. So here I am to personally deliver your summons to court on the matter of your illegal eviction of the Longbeard clan and associated relatives and visiting guests and such some 170 years back. In the name of Thorin Oakenshield and the Durin clan you are being sued for the dominion of all properties associated to the rule of Erebor and for damages for said attack used in the fore mentioned illegal eviction to the value of your entire hoard.”

Lifting a foot he eyed the folded bit of parchment that you held out then rested on the ridge of his knuckles without a hint of hesitation. Again you giggled making his eyes snap back to you. “As I said, Dragon, however the papers have been served and you are aware of the charges filed against you now and arrival on the court date mentioned in the claim is entirely upon your decision to show or not, though I will ask one teeny favor, I was wondering if you would take part in a survey we have offered with our services?” His brow arched up and you giggled out excitedly, “The server who gets the most surveys submitted wins a fully paid trip anywhere they want.”

“I suppose,”

“Lovely, it’s just four questions.”

Tauriel behind you looked from you to the curious Dragon whose head tilted wondering what was going on and puzzling how to react. “If you were to smell something every time you or someone around you said the word turbulent what would it be?”

For a moment his scaly lips pursed and his eyes shifted distantly in thought then eased back to you in his response of, “A thunderstorm.”

“Lovely,” you muttered writing down the response making his head tilt again and Tauriel’s brow twitch at the odd question.

“If you had to hear ducks quacking once a day everyday when would you want that to be?” You asked grinning up at him.

“Two hours past noon, right in time for lunch.” He said with a proud smirk flashing his teeth in a spreading grin at his own joke as you giggled when you wrote it.

“If you could only taste one thing no matter what you ate, what would it be?”

“Hmm, I have heard cherries are quite rare in these lands of late. I would choose cherries none other can taste.”

“Fitting.” You said noting down his answer.

“If you could be turned into a group of any animal which would it be?”

“Crane.”

“Very bold voice sir, and might I say thank you for being so amenable to the process, you have no idea what sort of unruly-ness I run into with this task.” Clasping the book shut his eyes followed that hand dropping to your side missing your reach back to the belt around your waist you drew your wand from its hidden sheath inside the fan you tucked there you swished his way turning him into a sea of brilliantly white cranes that took off in a confused frenzy.

You bend to add the book, pen and trumpet in your pack that you lifted then turned to the Company waving your hand keeping your wand in hand to light up the mountain

“You are a Wizard! You told us you were no Wizard!” Thorin barked at you.

“No, you asked me if my stories were Witchcraft. Which they aren’t. You never asked if I was a Wizard.”

He blinked at you reigning in his urge to argue against the true fact that none of them had outright asked you that.

“What did you say to him to keep him from eating you?” Ori asked with pad and pencil in had making you smirk.

Flicking your wand to the dropped bundle of parchment you floated over to Thorin you said, “I informed him that he was being served with an eviction notice and that his dominion over Erebor and its associated lands and hoard were to be confiscated for his illegal means of evicting you and your kin.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed, “Eviction?! You actually gave a Dragon eviction papers?”

You nodded, “I asked you if you wished for me to serve him eviction papers if you remember, back a month before we found that Troll hoard.”

“I never imagined you actually would go through with it! What is a bit of paper to a Dragon?!”

“No one is above the law.” You replied then turned in the dropping of his jaw to grin at Tauriel asking, “Are you alright? I suppose that was a bit frightening for you, I had no idea you were behind me or I would have warned you.”

She shook her head then glanced to the Dwarves stating, “No. Our King was curious to know if you would be able to safely find your destination.” Your grin eased out and she bowed her head, “Seeing as you have I shall return and inform the King.”

“Alright, safe travels.” She bowed her head again and turning to glance at the men you flashed them a grin on their continued frozen stance for a few moments until Fili led the group into a crashing hug around you thanking you for your aid with the dragon.

@sdavid09​

x Thorin – @evyiione​, @deepestfirefun​, @queenoferebor

#Tale Teller’s 52 Week Writing Challenge #Thorin #Thranduil #Tauriel #Legolas #Hobbit #lotr

[slvrlnce]

VERSE  SPECIFIC  HEADCANONS :  tolkien

The Bethmoora elves are cousins to the Avari and reside in Rhûn, the East lands of Middle Earth and were among those who refused to make the Great Journey west with the Eldar. Isolated from their brethren the Bethmoora stood resistant against Morgoth and later Sauron, building their cities beneath the Hearth tree, beneath a great mountain where they prospered away from the searching eyes of their enemies. The Bethmoora would wage their own wars against the corrupting might of both Morgoth and Sauron, though their tales of plight and victory are kept only by themselves and the Easterlings. The Bethmoora however were few in number, their population smaller even than the Avari, and still even fewer, besides the Bethmoora warriors led by Prince Nuada, risk to venture from their underground city.

The Bethmoora appear unlike any other elven kind in Middle-Earth, pale as bone with golden cat-like or hawk-like eyes and pale or amber hair, they appear somehow nearer to the earth and the trees they were said to be born from, with branches which grow from their crowns once they enter their final adult age. Very little is known about their culture even by their brother-kin, the Eldar and Silvan, as they are considered ‘refusers’ and the ‘unwilling’ for having refused the Great Journey. What contact the Eldar and the Silvan have had with the Bethmoora has created a view of them being secretive, aggressive, disagreeable and immensely proud.

Bethmoora are considered isolationists, no outsider has ever seen their city beneath the Hearth tree and very few outsiders even know the location of their city. Merchants and traders only ever leave their city once a year to trade with the Iron Hills, Erebor and the Greenwood elves and are always clad head to toe, features covered by beaded veils or handwoven masks that conceal their appearance from curious eyes. The civilian Bethmoora are far more timid and sheltered than Nuada and the Bethmoora warriors that make contact more often with outsiders but as they very rarely leave their homeland this is not known.

Nuada was born to his father and King of the Bethmoora, Balor, during the Second age, conflict and hostilities with the Easterling tribes of man were countless and Nuada would often lead raiding and war parties against their enemies to protect their lands. He would earn the title of Shadow’s bane as he was almost constantly in conflict with Khamûl, King of the Easterlings, the Shadow of the East, who was gifted with one of the Rings of power by Sauron and second only to the Witch-king. Due to the Bethmoora’s small population however, Nuada was unable to defeat the tribes of the East on his own and when Khamûl departed to wage war against the west, Nuada followed with a company of only nine fellow Bethmoora warriors.

Nuada and the Bethmoora joined the Last Alliance of Elves and Men and laid siege to Barad-dûr with their kin and with the armies of men. The Bethmoora tore through their enemies like streaks of gold and silver, tales sing of them walking on sunlight and fire, a blur among the armies of Orcs and it was here that Nuada earned his second title as Silverlance. Though victorious with the defeat of Sauron and the scattering of his armies, Nuada was the only survivor of the ten Bethmoora warriors to have traveled west to join the Alliance. During the last days of the fall of Sauron, Nuada rekindled relations with his elven brethren, most notably with his neighbors, the elves of the Greenwood though the secretive nature of the Bethmoora has caused their relationship with Thranduil and his kin tension over the years. As time went on the Prince would also make contact with the Dwarves of the Iron Hills and open trade routes between the Iron Hills and through them, with the Dwarves of Erebor, though trade only exists once a year with merchants and traders escorted by Nuada and a handful of newly trained Bethmoora warriors to the Iron Hills or Erebor.

Nuada has become the hand of Bethmoora and his father and King’s emissary, leaving the comforts of his home to negotiate trade dealings, though like Bethmoora’s dealings with the dwarves, these trades typically only occur in bulk once a year. The Bethmoora also hold alliances with their neighbors the Men of Gondor and Rohan against the various Easterling tribesmen and Orcish raiding parties. Often, Nuada is the only contact that any outsider has with the Bethmoora, he travels alone and is called the Wandering Prince, the Last Warrior of Bethmoora and the Yellow-eyed fiend, though usually only by his enemies.

Since Sauron’s defeat at Barad-dûr he has made several attempts to locate the Bethmoora’s city and while Nuada has trained new warriors since the Second Age, their numbers are still few and far between and their duty lies almost solely in the protection of their city as they are surrounded by enemies. Their secrecy and reluctance to allow others know of their location is due to necessity but it has caused many outsiders to question their stance against the armies of Sauron, especially during the War of the Ring.

Nuada is curious of men, halflings and dwarves, often interested in their stories and legends, as well as their culture and their crafting, such as blacksmithing and architecture. Nuada himself is something of an innovator, he enjoys tinkering and creating fantastical, delicate devices that can come to life under his guidance and trades his pieces while on the road. Unfortunately, Nuada’s disposition has done little to counter act the beliefs of the Bethmoora being somewhat violent and feral as he is often quick to temper and even quicker to strike.

Things that Outsiders know / think about Bethmoora elves:

Reside somewhere in Rhûn under a mountain

Bethmoora roughly translates to ‘people of the earth and/or trees’

Prone to violence, especially when insulted

Insults used for Bethmoora (though wisely not often to their faces) ‘go back to the dirt’ (means fuck off and die), ‘go back to your cave’ (just fuck off), ‘may your trees turn to ash’ (more like a curse/threatening death to all that a Bethmoora loves), ‘fainthearted cave-dweller’ (actually used by other elves and is an accusation of cowardice / being a coward), ‘no one/nothing’ (denial of existence / implies the Bethmoora are dying/fading/gone, favored by Easterlings)

Kill anyone and anything that comes close to their territories unless carrying the royal seal (Bethmoora clan symbol of the Hearth tree)

Omnivores

Known for ‘magical’ technologies

Their trade wealth lies in two kinds of unique metals that are mined only in Bethmoora

The most abundant is called asgeðe, or ‘bone steel’, which is a pale white and sometimes a pale gold-like metal

The second and more rarer and protected is called telpënethra, or ‘silver core/heart silver’, like bone steel, it can be smelted like any other metal

Wear veils that hide their faces

Royal colours are red and gold while war colours are red and black

Their love of dwarven ale is renown in the Iron Hills (it’s like soda for Bethmoora)

#◌ ― all we are is all we were. 「 tolkien au. 」 #tolkien verse hc.

[ama-darav]

I came back to this hellshite to get back into writing. I haven’t really focused on doing pieces and drabbles since my car accident almost 2 years ago. My brain was hella injured and I stopped processing words and writing like I used to; things are different. I was browsing through my old writing and some of my old posts on this blog and it felt like an entirely different person wrote them? I’m definitely not. THAT PERSON anymore lolol.

Anywhozles, the first piece that I’ve done in years is this backstory piece for a DND-based text campaign. I have a pretty unique character for the setting that merges the two ideas that the DM had (a harsh environment with tribal-minimalistic survivors) and the dwarven community that lives below it. That inspired this little know-it-all sass monster named Taerel, who is a mixture of both cultures.

This piece is a backstory piece for Taerel, exploring the world where he’s from along with adding mystery and a possible exploration quest in the area. It’s a first hand witness account for a hunt. like “we know about the legend, we witnessed it. It’s there and we can do something about it or do more research into the subject” kinda deal.

Expect to see more pieces in the next couple of days because I am really gonna kick my own ass into writing. I miss my muse and I want them back.

Length: 2,750+

"You know I can't leave this hunt much longer, my love." Taerel could remember his mother speaking directly to his father. He was a child then, no older than eight or nine, and like most children he had been preoccupied. His father had carved him a wooden figurine of a Dwarven soldier, and it had been his favorite toy. However, the last time they had come to their summer cabin in the Nevinai valley, he had left the toy and had not realized it until they were many, many miles away to the south, bed up in their winter dens. Now he was reuinited with his forgotten friend, and there was many a distraction to be had. Through the haze of his blissfulness, he hadn't remembered the sharp worry in his father's voice.

"Yes. but it's too early, a'ne." Ihmer said, clearly keeping his voice even and hushed for the sake of Taerel. He rarely used his wife's language, and Taerel noted that the elven words sounded so strange out of a man with such a thick accent. Tae wouldn't learn until much later in his life that Ihmer Valtor only used his mother’s words when he was playing his final hand. In an argument, The Glacial Elf language was a pleading gesture, to really emphasize that Valtor shouldn't be waved off. And Taerel could only recall instances such as this that his father had resorted to begging.

"Nonsense, Valtor. You and the boy will be fine while I hunt. The herd only uses this pass to the north of here once. At the start of the season. If you want to eat for the rest of the said season, I need to do this. If I put it off they will all be gone, and I will have to track further out and be gone longer. Look. If you're concerned that something might happen, I'll take Kovai and leave Korai here. She'll protect you." The Elven woman said firmly.

The memory of Fel'assari brought Taerel physical pain. His mother was strikingly beautiful at nearly 7 feet in height. She was as lean as a weeping tree, her skin as pale as a freshly fallen snow. Her hair had just started to turn an ashen grey, the ends already burned black by the changing of the seasons. It was nearly spring, and Assari bore the signs in her long mane of hair.

It was one of the rare times his mother wasn't already in her gear for the day. She was in a slim pair of doeskin slacks, and a haltered cut of skin to cover her chest. Although, admittedly, there was nothing to cover as there was no meat on Fel'assari's bones at all.  He remembered the way her Tornaavas, or her story, stretched across her skin in white spidery lines. Each one of Fel'assari's people when they reached the age of ten were sat down; then the clan's story were marked across their face. It started with just the clan's history. but. Eventually as the young elf grew the clan would add the young elf’s personal stories to their body. And soon enough the elf would be able to recount their life's tales by looking at how their body had changed over the years. Taerel remembered that his mother's story was intricate, scrawled down the lengths of her arms and her back. Her stories held the detailing all of the heroic things she had done, and there was a child-like desire burning within as Taerel wanted his own stories to reflect hers.

The memory of Ihmer's sigh broke Taerel's mesmerized trance on the memory his mother. He remembered looking upon from the toy in his hands to the concerned look on his father's face. Ihmer Valtor was a stern man, with a thick red beard and a round nose like a cherry. He had grey eyes like clouds, and a bald, shiny head like a coin. Ordinarily Ihmer's face was plastered with laughs and smiles. This was usually because Taerel had said something funny [often in mimcry of said man] or being alive just brought joy to him. There was fear there, and even as young as he was, Taerel could sense it. Reluctantly, Ihmer agreed for his wife to leave them.

The rest of the day played on without event. Both Taerel and Ihmer had chores to do. The two spent the day gathering herbs and other useful materials from the surrounding hills, and scavenging enough wood to stock the smoke house rack. There was nothing out of the ordinary about that day. Just one of the many lessons that there was always something to be done during the day. And, of course, Tae had happily followed his father along to help.

It wasn't until the night had come that things became unsettling. The first event occured after the meal was over, when the night settled in and a blizzard with it. It wasn't uncommon for snow to fall in the beginnings of the growing season. Plants in Nevinter were made hardy for a reason.

The snow whipped and the winds howled in the cold and the darkness, and Taerel had finally settled against Korai for the night. Korai was always the same in Taerel's memories. His mother's two large direwolf companions never seemed to change. Out of the two sisters, Korai was more mature and experienced. She slowly took in the world and was hard to startle... while her sister Kovai was the opposite. She was a reckless one and didn't have a thought in her head. His mother had a story of how she had rescued the two young dire wolves in her youth, and now the two wolves stayed at her side like family. However, this wasn't the time to recant that tale.

The young Taerel had just nestled into a comfortable spot on Korai, a caribou skin blanket wrapped around him. He still had his soldier in his hands and he was singing to it quietly as the fire flickered in the distance. His father was sitting in a makeshift chair by the fire with a book in his hands. The fire was nearly out, and the whole room was cast into darkness. Taerel did not struggle to see in the darkness. He could see the objects in the room clearly. Although they were now devoid of color and shadows, everything was still easy to see.

Everything in the house was quiet and peaceful, save for a few crackling embers. Sleep claimed the young Taerel, and he fell asleep against Korai.

Taerel wasn't sure how long he was asleep against Korai, but he awoke to the sensation of her growling. He could feel the sound reverberating through her skin, humming through his. "Papa." Taerel cried out, clearly alarmed that Korai was growling. The dwarf in the chair stirred. He had fallen asleep where he had been sitting, his book plastered across his face. The fire had since gone out, and there was a definitive chill in the room. Taerel pulled his blankets closer to him, pulling closer to Korai. Korai adjusted the two of them, not pushing the young child off of her back just yet but getting ready to stand up and lunge if necessary.

Then the two of them heard what Korai was hearing. Someone was screaming for help. It was a dull shriek at first, a woman's voice carrying on the wind. However, with each passing moment the voice carried on closer to the cabin. The winds outside had begun to pick up, and there was a harsh groan of air  and snow against the logs of the cabin. It felt like the storm outside was challenging the cabin, daring it to fall down.

Korai's growls grew more intense as the voice got closer the cabin. The two of them could now make out what the woman was saying.

"Help me, please. You have to let me in. I'm going to freeze to death. Please. I'm dying. My hands... My hands are... " The woman was begging, hysterical with tears and pain. You could hear the sobs grow closer and closer to the door.

Ihmer did not rise from his chair, he stood watching the door with a bewildered look upon his face. Then the banging started. It was the sound of a woman, desperately clawing at the door. It groaned and shuddered in it's frame, violently shaking as the banging continued.

"Please. Let me inside. Please." The voice pleaded again, shrill and full of agony. The sobbing continued, full of tears and terror. The sound of the woman made Tae's blood run cold.

Ihmer finally rose from the chair, however. He dared not near approach the door. Instinctively, he walked over to his son and hoisted him up off of Korai. Taerel was nearly taller than his father now, but despite his height he was still very skinny. Years of being toted around by either of his parents meant he instinctively wrapped around his father, dragging the blanket around both of them to keep them from the cold.

Ihmer rose a finger to his lips, a clear indication that he wanted Taerel to remain very quiet. The two of them then sat in the middle of the cabin on the floor. Korai wrapped herself around them, resting on her haunches ready for the moment hell was going to break loose.

After almost an hour of weeping and calling out, the woman outside had stopped her efforts. There was nothing now, even though the wind ripping outside had not subsided. Ihmer dared not to move, his eyes locked on the door. Taerel could feel his father's heart racing in his chest, and the young man felt uneasy. He had never seen his father so afraid before. He for one was just grateful that the woman had finally stopped. Maybe she had died?

No sooner than Taerel had felt the relief of the quiet wash over him that something else happened. His blood turned to icewater, and he felt his heart seize in his chest. It was like a bottom falling out of a barrel as a wicked laughter filled the air outside of the cabin and seeping in. It was a shrill, inhuman sound, like metal on ice. Taerel's hair stood on end and he whimpered reflexively. It finally clicked in his mind what was going on and the worst fear he had ever felt in his life had set in. They were being visited by an Ice hag.

Taerel closed his eyes as he could feel the tears welling up at his cheeks. He leaned into his father, who reflexively pulled the small boy closer. He didn't want to remember the words, but they came piercing into his mind as sure as the screeching outside.

'Mama, why must we leave here in the winter? Why do we move around so much?'

'Because my sweet son, The Frosthell changes as the seasons do. The Valley isn't safe when the snow comes.'

'Why?'

'Well. When I was just a girl, your age. My father told me a story of a group of humans who had come to settle in this land. They stayed in our little valley. The summer was good and plentiful, but they did not know how to prepare for the winter. Before long the early snows came, and the humans were unprepared.

Many froze to death in their little huts, and many starved to death. All that was said to have survived the coming of the cold was a single woman, and she did so by eating the others. By eating the flesh of her friends, her lover, and her children she transformed into a creature of darkness and cold. The hag she had become survived the winter, but her soul was lost forever in the process.

Now It is safe to live here in the valley during the months that it doesn't snow, but if you see the signs of winter coming you best move on. During the first snows of the year, she comes out from her hiding in the valley and she checks all the settlements to see if any remain. If she were to ever suspect that someone was inside, she'll pound at the door trying to get you to let her in. If that ever happens, Taerel, put the fire out and stay very quiet like nobody is home. It is said that if she catches you inside she'll tear the house down around you and eat you. Never let her in, Taerel.'

His mother's words echoed in his heart like a dagger. He wrapped himself around his father tightly, and sat stewing in his own fear. He dared not make another sound.

The laughing outside increased as the house shook violently in the wind. The bones of the house shook around them as the ice hag continued her onslaught. They could hear scratching and tearing, the house around them taking a beating. Both father and son stayed motionless for hours on the floor, each locked in a palpable fear for their lives.

It wasn't until the first light of dawn broke through the trees that the sounds of the hag had finally subsided. The laughter faded first, receding into the deep woods not far away from their house. Then the wind let up and everything faded into an uncomfortable silence.

Ihmer moved from his spot on the ground when Korai sprung from her hiding spot and bolted to the door, pressing a paw against it. Ihmer hesitantly opened the door, letting the dire wolf out into the snow. Taerel rose from his spot on the floor, instinctively moving to his father's side. He could see hesitation in his father's movements, but he mirrored. and slowly the two of them were standing outside, staring at the cabin.

The hag had done some hefty damage. Long clawmarks had been cut through the heavy logs, oozing with red with blood and ice. The markings had continued along the exterior of the hut as the witch had tried to find a way to bust through to the inside.

The worst part of all this carnage was the front door. It was plastered with blood and ice. Clearly and distinctly, one could make out  the shape of a person hunched down against it as the snow piled around. There were clear signs of human nails scratching at the door near the bottom, but as they rose higher up you could see them progressively start to shift into something inhuman.

The defining feature was three distinct claw marks  embedded into the door, with fresh blood dripping out of them.

With a sinking feeling, Taerel guessed what they were for. Three was the number of living occupants in the house. Three was the number of people she was going to eat. His heart was broken. He didn't want to get eaten by an ice hag.

It didn't take Ihmer long to act. The two of them had spent the day gathering what they could of their things and repacking them into the sleds they used to move around. They took anything that was useful: tools, clothing, oils and things that were tradeable... but they had to leave much behind, like the furniture that Ihmer had built.

When the Sun reached it's highest point in the sky, Taerel watched his father light a final fire in their home in the Nevinai. It didn't take long for the house to catch completely ablaze.

The sight of his favorite place burning brought physical pain to Taerel. Without realizing it, the young man began to cry. Sobbing at the sight of his happiest memories going up in flames, he shook uncontrollably. It was like watching someone he loved die. All the times he spent fishing in the rivers, playing with Kovai in the trees. The meals. The stories. The games. All of it was going up in flames.

....The worst part was? Without needing to explain it, Taerel already knew why. The claw marks in the door were a curse. Every single snow the hag would return to that house, without fail. If someone else were to try and use it for shelter, they would be put at risk by his families' errors. It was the unspoken law of the Frosthell that something had to be done about it, and the simplest way to rid the world of the hag's mark was to destroy what she had marked. He hated this place now. He hated the woman that had become the hag. He hated that this was just another part of his life here in the cold.

Soon. He and his father moved on, making clear tracks to an old cabin they knew of that existed some distance outside of the valley. They would move on from this spot, never to return.

Every now and again though, the memory returns to the deepest parts of Taerel's mind on a cold night. A black reminder that the world he knew the best was ceaselessly cruel.

#my writing #original #kicking this off by submitting this piece to the ages #lol #taerel

[jace-the-writer-guy]

Meet Cronus and Aurora

These are the characters I made in Skyrim recently and I wanted to show them off to everyone and officially say that these two are part of the Fantasy AU! They don't have full bios like my normal OCs, so I hope you like what I did with them.

Cronus Stormwind

Cronus' Outfits and Weapons

Cronus is Half-Storm Giant and is eight feet and six inches tall (size shown in the first pic). He's a huge, hulking mountain of a man with black hair and a thick black beard, and blue eyes. He has markings on his face (second pic) that are black like his hair. When he left his clan to explore the world, he took his lightning enchanted great axe and his armor and he did just that. He's an immensely powerful man and can swing his huge axe around with ease and destroy anything in his path.

Sometimes he can be very obliviously brazen and extremely blunt, but he never means to be and he's been known to be... a bit vulgar with that. Despite his calm visage, he's quite socially awkward due to his upbringing and very rarely interacting with anyone outside his clan. He constantly worries about saying something wrong or someone misunderstanding him due to common not being his first language, and he's self conscious about doing anything in a village, town, or city considering his size. He doesn't want to accidentally break anything or knock anyone over, and he's very uncomfortable in social gatherings with people he doesn't know.

Thankfully for him, he has his closest friend Aurora to keep him calm and collected during these times, and speak for him if she ever notices him struggling. And thankfully as well, he's grown past his speaking troubles over the years thanks to her help.

Aurora Aramentay

Aurora's Outfits

Aurora is a Dark Elven Sorceress and is five feet and four inches tall (size shown in the first picture). She's small and dainty with slender hips and D cup breasts, has magical white markings on her face from birth (second pic), teal colored hair, and red eyes. She left her home when she was young to explore the world and learn more about her innate magic power after it was awakened inside of her. She has a mastery of different types of magic; Fire, water, healing, conjuration, and alteration to name a few. She is one of the very, very few that know ressurection magic. She wears her robes constantly because of how soft they are and how well they show off her figure, and she wears a pair of simple sandals with them.

She used to be a bit shy around any new people she met, but she grew out of that and is now very confident when talking with anyone she meets. Despite her size, she can be a bit intimidating when she's angry, considering a fiery aura envelops her body when she is. She can also be pretty cocky when it comes to her mastery of magic, and with her sex appeal.

She is Cronus' closest friend, and a distant relative of Vanille.

Both Cronus and Aurora both travel the world together and enjoy each other's company, doing different quests with each other and protecting each other in different ways, along with teasing each other with nicknames when they can relax. They've known each other for years since the met and haven't left each other's sides since. Since they've met, they slowly gained enough gold to start their own guild in the city of Vale called New Dawn, a guild that caters to adventurers and mercenaries alike and gives those people work and a place to stay. And then after that, they bought a keep to go with their guild.

Cronus is a talented blacksmith and created his own armor and weapon, tired of having to deal with finding things that don't fit his body. He can usually be seen in the forge of New Dawn Keep, crafting some things to sell off or crafting new gear for the armory, if he can stop accidentally making things his size.

Aurora is talented at enchanting items for their guild members, and she's a skilled tailor. She created all of Cronus' clothing items and had a hand in helping creating his formal armor. She can often be found in New Dawn Keep's study where she reads up on different stories of her people, and tries to learn new spells use both in and out of battle.

#oc #cronus stormwind #aurora aramentay #fantasy au

[chaotic-good-hawke]

Scavenger Hunt, 2486 words

This is a (belated) birthday gift for the lovely and talented, @mocha-writes​! Featuring her OC, Solomon Trevelyan, and my own two OCs, Hela Lavellan and Ronan Trevelyan. I wasn’t planning for it to be so long, but I got a little carried away...anyways, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOCHA!!!!

**

Hela and Sera had gotten up very early that morning, before the sun rose. The air was crisp and brisk, the autumn winds cold off the snowy mountains.

Together they had managed to sneak into the Solomon’s quarters, planting a letter beside his bed, before hurrying away.

They couldn’t wait for him to open it.

The first clue to their scavenger hunt.

**

It took much longer than they had hoped, waiting for the sun to rise, meeting up with Ronan and checking that everything was in place, running here and there putting the finishing touches on things. It had to be perfect.

Hela and Sera currently hid behind Varric’s table in the great hall, mostly whispering as they waited for the Inquisitor to descend. It was hard to keep quiet, since boredom was instigating tickles and jabs. Their elf ears twitched when they heard the tell-tale creak of the door at the end of the hall. Peeking over the table, they saw the inquisitor approach the throne, twining a multi-colored scarf around his neck.

He had found the first surprise, obviously. Cole had not really hidden it so much as draped it across the door into the great hall, with the second clue tucked underneath it. It was made from scraps, a thing made from cast-offs, but lovely sewn together by the spirit boy. Cole had a matching one himself. He had said it was to keep the inquisitor warm.

They watched as Solomon found the basket behind the judgement seat, inside, Hela knew, was a book of romantic poetry, scandalous for its positive portrayal of elves and elven/human relationships. Ronan had looked hard for a copy, Cass finally pointing him to a dealer in rare books, that she blushed when asked teasingly why she knew the person sold near-banned romantic texts.

Solomon paused against the chair, adjusting his glasses, reading the third clue left with the book. His face held an air of concentration, but also surprise, perhaps bewilderment even.

“Y’think he needs a hint?” Sera whispered.

“Shh!” Hela replied, “Give him a minute.” Her tone was teasing, ears flicking in her excitement.

They didn’t have to wait long for the inquisitor to nod to himself and head for the door to the undercroft. So far so good.

**

The Inquisitor was gone long enough for Sera and Hela to relocate to behind the door to Josephine’s office. They were lucky it was still early and the hall wasn’t full up with dignitaries and ambassadors, so peering out into the hall they were able to see Solomon enter again, this time with a large purple silken handkerchief tied around the handle of the basket. Sera had embroidered it with little yellow bees, naturally exploding from a bee bomb. She had sworn a lot when she sewed it, pricking her fingers more often than not, but Hela had encouraged her and she was determined to finish it for Solomon.  

Solomon next wandered over to Varric’s hearth, easily finding a tome on archaic magic that Solas had found hidden away in the old library downstairs. It was leather-bound and pages were illuminated with diagrams and illustrations. It was a bit dense for Hela’s taste, but it was just the kind of thing the Hahren would like. The two tricksters watched him set it in the basket and pick up the next note. He read quickly and thoughtfully, sure steps leading him through another door down to the kitchens.

“See, he’s got this.” Hela said, standing up and stepping into the hall.

“Hope he likes the cookies.” Sera said. They had baked cookies last night, which he would find waiting for him in the kitchen. The ones they had made should be edible, which hey, it was only the third batch they had made together. And well, if they weren’t, they could work as impromptu projectiles, so win-win.

“Come on, let’s go let Ronan know it’s his turn.”

“Race you!” Sera said, speeding off towards the library, Hela laughing to catch up to her. It was going perfectly.

**

Ronan heard them before he saw them, spying the two rambunctious elves at the bottom of the rotunda, cackling and pushing each other. Hela gave him a salute and whistle, before pulling Sera out again, stumbling back in a rush.

Taking his cue, he exited to the balcony on the third floor, getting a view of the lower courtyard and stables.  If everything went as planned, Solomon would be emerging there in a few minutes.

As the wind ruffles his hair, he used a spell to warm his hands and considered what brought them here. It had been chance that had them all back at Skyhold. When Hela and Ronan had realized what day it would be, they had plotted together, recruiting other around Skyhold to their shenanigans.

And it was working, as he saw Solomon below. His cousin, however distant. Besides his grandmother, Solomon was about the only Trevelyan that Ronan would claim as kin. He was a good man.

Solomon made it to the stables, hidden from view, but Ronan had little doubt that he would find the carved owl paperweight that Warden Blackwall had carved. He had painted it white, with delicate plumage outlined and bright violet eyes. The burly man was surprisingly talented, a deft hand at crafts.

Ronan tapped his fingers against the stone, a smile on his face. He had found much here with the Inquisition. Freedom, friends, something to believe in.

His thoughts must have wandered farther and longer than he realized, for Solomon had slipped past his notice and was in the library, finding the gift wrapped in the seat he usually sat in when reading there.

Hela had sneaked a peak at what Leliana had gotten him. She was surprised, for they were a set of small elven ear cuffs, pointed and delicate, simple, yet elegant in design. Small enough to hide under long hair, as the inquisitor was wont to do with his ears, if he chose to. Hela wouldn’t tell him what the personal note said, uncharacteristically tightlipped about it, simply saying it was what the hahren needed to hear.

As soon as Solomon left the library, Ronan booked it down the stairs, entering the great hall, but sliding along the wall so that the inquisitor couldn’t see him. He was in Vivienne’s alcove, surely finding the new traveling alchemical set that she had imported specially for him. Practical, a shared interest. It was expensive, but Vivienne had waved away the cost, saying a favor was owed her.

Ronan barely managed to reach the large doors when Solomon descended, crossing to Josephine’s office.

In the War Room, set on the map, he would find a book of artistic landscape etchings from across Thedas. Ronan knew how much his cousin loved the scenery of Thedas, loved travelling and exploring. He hoped that he would enjoy have a stand-in for when he was stuck at Skyhold or at noble functions.

Ronan moved to shadow Solomon when he left, albeit with only a little success. The mage was not known for being stealthy. However, he was able to witness the inquisitor find the mug of hot chocolate from The Iron Bull, left at the bar with Cabot and kept warm with a minor spell from Hela. It also included a note that the man could raid Bull’s stash whenever he needed, a generous offer from the qunari, given his love of the stuff.  

He couldn’t quite see Solomon uncover the bundle left by Hela in the place Cole usually frequented, but since he headed out the door towards the mage tower, he must have found it. Hela had it made special, had her cousin Fenrir send it from her clan in the Free Marches. From her stories, Ronan wasn’t sure what to really expect from the clan. They were either the friendliest and smartest Dalish in all the world or the strongest and most likely to roast a lone human over a spit…most terrifying was the possibility that it was both. It was difficult at times to shift truth from fiction and exaggeration around the elf.

But anyways, she had requested and received a Dalish hair comb, carved with a Halla and an Elvhen blessing. And, because she felt that was not enough, she also scaled the apple tree in the garden this morning to pick a half dozen of the best ones she could find. More like used it as an excuse to climb the tree, but the sentiment was there.

The final gift, left in the mage tower, was a set of vanilla scented candles and bath salts from the Lady Josephine. She had noticed that the inquisitor enjoyed the scent, as the gifted woman noticed many things. But most importantly, the final gift included a map drawn by Hela and Sera that showed a path from the tower to the garden.

With Solomon now headed for the final gift and clue, it was time for Ronan to meet up with Hela and Sera. They wanted to see his reaction to the final surprise.

Ronan smiled broadly to himself. He hoped his cousin enjoyed it.

**

Dorian sat in the garden, in the shade of the gazebo, the chess board moved there, out from the sun. He had been there for most of the morning, Ronan escorting him to the place and showing him what they had set up. About ten minutes ago, Hela and Sera had arrived with food and drink, setting it up…artfully before running off, Hela blowing a kiss towards him as they ran.

The garden was still warm, even in the Autumn morning. There was some ancient enchantment that would likely keep it so year round, a subject that Solomon, Solas, and he had discussed in depth several months ago.  

Dorian fidgeted, the waiting agitating him. He hoped that Solomon appreciated what they did. When he was first approached about this whole convoluted endeavor, he was hesitant, not sure if it was something Solomon would truly enjoy, but Hela, and to some extent, Ronan, had convinced him. And he had to say, the gifts were well chosen.

He hoped Solomon didn’t notice how crowded the great hall was going to be, when he passed through. They had arranged to empty the gardens for the morning and afternoon, giving them privacy, so many more would be lingering inside.  

Dorian straightened his outfit again, checking that his hair was still in order, that a stray wind hadn’t upset it. He wanted to provide the best picture for his Amatus.

And he was his amatus. That tall, gangly man. Learned, intelligent, a secret sense of humor, an understanding that he loved. And it was no easy thing to think of it as love. It wasn’t something Dorian had thought to have, truly have. And it was still a new thing, really…

Dorian’s thoughts were interrupted by the door opening, loud in the peaceful courtyard, which heralded the arrival of his love. Solomon stepped into the garden, squinting through his glasses slightly in the sunlight, as he was wont to do. His long white hair was pulled back, but it shone in the sun. Dorian thought it beautiful, as he found many things about the inquisitor.

Finally adjusted to the light, Solomon saw him and walked over, a brimming basket of things held in his arm. He had found them all, of course.

“Amatus! What a surprise to see you!” Dorian exclaimed, a wide smile forming freely on his face. Solomon raised an eyebrow at him.

“Really? I was given a map with a very explicit path marked to this location, with hearts drawn around the destination.” Solomon had a small grin at least.

“Ah, that would be Sera’s work, or Hela’s, perhaps both.” Dorian amended. “But, you have found me, just in time for lunch.” Dorian swept his arm out to the array of foods, a carefully selected offering of several of their favorite foods. “And you have found all the clues, well done, Amatus. Please, have a seat.”

Solomon looked hesitant then. “This was really too much.” He lifted the basket. “I hardly deserve this effort. The time alone and the cost of some of these gifts…”

“Nonsense! This is entirely what you deserve!” Dorian exclaimed. Apparently loud enough that the until then hidden trio of Ronan, Hela, and Sera, from their place on the balcony above, could hear.

“You deserve it all, Hahren!” Hela yelled, before Ronan could clap his hand over her mouth. Solomon turned quickly to look up at them, while Dorian rolled his eyes.

“Oy, you do!” Sera added, causing Ronan to elbow her as he was wrangling Hela. The display above was a comedy of sorts, before Ronan managed to shove them towards the door, the pair of elves cackling all the way. They all waved, before slipping from sight.

Dorian sighed. “We should actually be alone now.”

“I deduce that they were the primary parties responsible for this?”

“Yes. When they heard it was going to be your birthday, they wanted to do something about it. They did manage to throw it together rather quickly.” Dorian said.

“Yes, they must have. I would assume they found out the information from the ambassador?”

“The spymaster, actually.” Dorian said. “I believe she let it slip to Ronan. And then once Hela found out, the plan was in motion.”

“I cannot believe you all went to this trouble over me.” Solomon said, he opened his mouth to continue, to likely say how he didn’t deserve it, to put himself down again. Well, Dorian wouldn’t give him the chance.

“We were all eager to do so, Solomon. We care about you. No one was pressured to do anything. And really, it is what you deserve, and I won’t hear another word about how much you don’t deserve the things or the effort or the care. We would be frightfully offended if you refused any of the gifts.”

“I…thank you.” He was blushing, breaking eye contact, showing that he really was embarrassed, but taking a seat across from Dorian. “I should thank the others.”

“There is time for that later, Solomon.” Dorian set his hand lightly on Solomon’s. “Their will be a gathering later at the tavern, if you wish to join it. Hela described it as either a chance to toast the success of our endeavor or drown our collective sorrows if it failed. But, we have the garden to ourselves for now. Leliana and Josephine have cleared your schedule, we have food, a chess board, and all the time in the world.” Dorian ran his thumb over his love’s knuckles. “Happy Birthday, Amatus.”

Solomon met his eyes again, a hint of tears forming, a humble smile on his face. Dorian smiled at him, before leaning back. “Now, I believe it is your move.”    

#dragon age #wishing a very happy birthday to Mocha #dragon age fanfiction #Solomon Trevelyan #Hela Lavellan #Ronan Trevelyan #Sera #dragon age inquisition #fluff #Dorian Pavus #dorian x inquisitor #My writing #i wasn't brave enough to write from Solomon's perspective - i didn't feel like i could capture him well enough #but i hope this is okay!

[trinuviel]

Subverting Galadriel - the Norn Queen in “Memory, Sorrow and Thorn”

I’ve been reading Tad Williams’ epic fantasy series Memory, Sorrow and Thorn recently. It is this series of books that directly inspired George R.R. Martin to write A Song of Ice and Fire and I’ve been listing the similarities between the two elsewhere (x). 

One thing that struck me whilst reading Williams’ series was how he engages with the legacy of Tolkien. This becomes especially clear in the way Williams portrays the Sithi and the Norns, two clans of an immortal race that bears many similarities to the Elves of Tolkien as well as the fairy folk of myth - especially the Daoine Sidhe (or Aos Sí) of Irish folklore. The naming of William’s “elvish” race as the Sithi may very well be a nod to this particular piece of folklore.

(The Riders of the Sidhe (1911). Art by John Duncan, McManus Galleries, Dundee)

The Sithi and the Norns, who call themselves the Zid’aya (the Dawn Children) and the Hikeda’ya (the Cloud Children) respectively, are extremely long-lived and their looks are foreign enough to be considered both beautiful and terrifying by the mortals in the story. While they belong to the same race, their looks are very different. The Sithi are described as golden-eyed and golden-skinned, with hair that varies from white to black and red. Several dye their white hair blue or lavender as well.

(Jiriki and Aditu of the Zida’ya. Art by Michael Whelan)

The Norns, on the other hand, are white-skinned as well as white-haired and their eyes are described as black or a very dark violet bordering on black. They are generally considered much more terrifying in appearance than beautiful, unlike the Sithi, though that could be because they are hostile to humankind.

There’s a third “elvish” race called the Tinukeda’ya (the Ocean’s Children) who are referred to as Dwarrows and Niskies because the former live underground and the latter by the sea. They are not considered beautiful but rather bordering on the grotesque in appearance. They were once the servants of the two other clans but broke away. 

Tolkien and Williams - Similarities in Lore

When it comes to the history of the Sithi, Norns and Tinukeda’ya, it becomes clear that Williams draws a lot of inspiration from Tolkien, specifically the Silmarillion and the history of the Elves.

The story of Memory, Sorrow and Thorn takes place on a continent called Osten Ard.

The three “elvish” tribes of Osten Ard didn’t originiate in this land. They came across the sea from Venyha Do’sae, a place they call the Lost Garden and they refer to their race as the Gardenborn. They fled their home because it was threatened by Unbeing though it is unclear what exactly this threat really was. This idea of the Lost Garden brings to mind the realm of Valinor where the elves of Tolkien resided before their exile to Middle-Earth. 

The Gardenborn were the first thinking creatures to live in Osten Ard and they built 9 great and beautiful cities that were eventually lost due to environmental circumstances or invasion by mortals. The Sithi Nine Cities cities are described as places of incredibly beauty in a way that brings to mind the elven city of Gondolin in the Silmarillion.

When humankind first came to Osten Ard, they lived in relative harmony with the Sithi. However, disagreements about whether to live peacefully with humankind or make war on them led to a parting of the ways between the two largest tribes: the Sithi and the Norns. The Norns, led by Utuk’ku were hostile to humankind but they made a pact with their Sithi cousins to retire to the icy north and live in isolation in the mountain called Stormspike. 

Much later on the Rimmersmen, a Viking-like people with iron weapons, arrived and made war on the Sithi and eventually drove them into the wilderness of Osten Ard. After the fall of Asu’a, the Sithi retreated to the heart of the Aldheorte Forest where they founded the city of Jao e-Tinukai’i. Henceforth, the Sithi rarely left their forest home or interacted with humans.

As said, there are many similarities between the elves of Tolkien and the Sithi/Norns (the Gardenborn) of Williams. However, unlike Tolkien Williams delves into the fact that such a long-lived race will inevitably be vastly different from and incredibly foreign to humankind. The Sithi simply experience Time  differently and that has an effect on how the two races approach things as well as a deeper effect on how they think and relate to the world. This also means that humans and Sithi have difficulties understanding each other, even when the relationship is a benevolent one.

The Noble Faerie Queen - and her Dark Mirror

GALADRIEL

One of the more interesting yet enigmatic elvish characters in The Lord of the Rings is Galadriel, the Lady of Lothlorien. At that point in the history of Middle-Earth, Galadriel is one of the oldest thinking creatures in the world. She was born in the First Age and is one of the few living elves that once dwelt in Valinor. According to fan lore she is more than 8.000 years old! That kind of age is almost unimaginable to comprehend in terms of the life-span of a single creature but to put her age into perspective, Galadriel is almost 4.000 years older than the Pyramids of Giza in Egypt!

However, Tolkien doesn’t really explore what it would mean for a thinking being to have a life that spans eons. Instead, Galadriel seems to embody the trope of the regal, wise and powerful High Queen:

A woman of wealth, power and near-impossible beauty. She always has a calm demeanor and regal bearing. Her very voice, even if it doesn't ring with power (and it often does), still lets you know that, in some way, she's probably better than you, even if the lady herself doesn't look down on you at all. (TVTropes)

Galadriel was not always as wise as she is in The Lord of the Rings. In the First Age she is described as prideful and refuses an opportunity to return to Valinor because she wants a realm of her own to rule. However, with age comes wisdom to which pride gives way. Galadriel is incredibly powerful - not just because of her age but also because she wields one of the three Rings of Power given to the elves. She is the keeper of Nenya, the Ring of Adamant.

Yet despite her great age and wisdom, Galadriel is tempted by power when Frodo freely offers her the One Ring.

“I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired to ask what you offer. For many long years I had pondered what I might do, should the Great Ring come within my grasp. The evil that was devised long ago works on in many ways, whether Sauron himself stands or falls. Would not that have been a noble deed to set to the credit of the Ring, if I had taken it by force or fear from my guest?

‘And now at last it comes. You will give me the Ring freely! In place of a Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair!’

She lifted up her hand and from the ring that she wore there issued a great light that illumined her alone and left all else dark. She stood before Frodo seeming now tall beyond measurement, and beautiful beyond enduring, terrible and worshipful. Then she let her hand fall, and the light faded, and suddenly she laughed again, and lo! she was shrunken: a slender elf-woman, clad in simple white, whose gentle voice was soft and sad.

‘I pass the test.’ she said. ‘I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel.’ (The Fellowship of the Ring)

Galadriel IS tempted by power but she resists the temptation, knowing that you cannot fight Evil with Evil. The One Ring is powerful beyond compare but it would eventually corrupt her and change her into something terrible.

THE NORN QUEEN

As said earlier, Tad Williams’ has taken quite a bit of inspiration from Tolkien’s elves but he engages with Tolkien’s legacy in a very interesting manner. Not only does he illustrate how vast the differences are between the Sithi and humankind but he also addresses the issue of how the Sithi deal with age when they live for thousands of years.

“What happens to you fairy-folk when they get old?” Isgrimnur asked suddenly. “Do they just get wiser? or do they turn silly and mawkish, as some of ours do?

“‘Old’ means something different to us, as you know,” Aditu replied. “But the answer is: there are as many different answers as there are Zida’ya, as is no doubt true with mortals. Some grow increasingly remote; they do not speak to anyone, but live entirely in their own thoughts. Others develop fondness for things others find unimportant. And some begin to brood on the past, on wrongs and hurts and missed chances.

“The oldest one of all, the one you call the Norn Queen, has grown old in that way. She was known once for her wisdom and beauty, for grace beyond measurement. But something in her balked and grew bent, and so she curled inward into malice. And as the years almost beyond counting rolled past, all that was once admirable became twisted.” Aditu had suddenly become serious in a way that Isgrimnur had not seen before. (To Green Angel Tower: Storm)

Utuk’ku Seyt-Hamakha - the Norn Queen is the oldest of the Gardenborn - 10.000 years old according to Tad Williams (x). Like Galadriel, she was born in the lost homeland. Like Galadriel, she was known for her beauty and her wisdom - but unlike Galadriel, age did not conquer her pride, her vanity or her bigotry towards humankind. She didn’t grow wiser with age. 

Instead, she grew bitter and hateful, which lead to her plan a war of annihilation on humankind in concert with the disembodied Ineluki, the Storm King, who was an Sithi prince that died during the fall of Asu’a but whose spirit refused to die. She sits like a spider at the centre of a vast web that she has been spinning for centuries, planning the unmaking of humankind:

Utuk’ku considered. Odd and unsettling shifts had begun to take place in the intricate pattern of events that she had undertaken so long ago, events she had studied and delicately modified over the course of more than a thousand thousand sunless days. One of the first of those shifts had caused a small tear in her design. it was not irreparable, of course - Utuk’ku’s weavings were strong, and more than a few strands would have to snap completely before her long-planned triumph would be threatened - but patching it would require care, and the diamond-sharp concentration that only the Eldest could bring to bear. (To Green Angel tower: Siege)

The Norn Queen is, in a sense, the dark mirror to Galadriel, Tolkien’s benevolent elven queen. 

Like Galadriel, Utuk’ku is incredibly powerful as she is the keeper of an object of immense power: The Breathing Harp, which is a Master Witness that resides in Nakkiga, the underground city of the Norns located under the mountain Stormspike. 

Unlike Galadriel who was tempted by great power, Utuk’ku’s corruption has sprung from her own flaws, more specifically her vanity. While the Sithi and Norns are described as seemingly ageless to the human eye, they do age (very slowly) - and Utuk’ku is unimaginably old, even by the standards of her own people. However she could not accept the fading of her beauty and thus hid her face behind a silver mask.

“Horror of her own antiquity made her hide her features long ago - but to you, Seaoman Snowlock, she would seem nothing but an old woman. Her features are lined and sagging, her skin mottled. Utuk’ku Seyt-Hamaka is the Eldest, but her wisdom was corrupted by selfishness and vanity ages ago. She was ashamed that the years had caught up with her.” (To Green Angel Tower: Storm)

Utuk’ku’s darkness is rooted in her immense antiquity. She is, as said, unimaginably old. She is more than twice as old as the second-oldest of the Sithi - so old that she has become a creature that is foreign even to her own people. 

It had perhaps been a thousand years since the Norn Queen had smiled, but if she had remembered how, she might have smiled at that moment. Even the oldest of the Hikeda’ya had known no other mistress but Utuk’ku. Some of them could be pardoned, perhaps, for thinking that she was no longer a living thing, but like the Storm King a creature made entirely of ice and sorcery and endless, vigilant malignity. Utuk’ku knew better. Although even the millenial lives of some of her descendants spanned but a small portion of her own, beneath the corpse-pale robes and shimmering mask was still a living woman. Inside her ancient flesh a heart still beat - slow and strong, like a blind thing crawling at the bottom of a deep, silent sea.

She was weary, but she was still fierce, still powerful. She had planned so long these coming days that the very face of the land above had shifted and altered beneath Time’s hand as she waited. She would live to see her revenge.

The lights of the Well flickered on the empty metal face she showed the world. Perhaps in that triumphant hour, Utuk’ku thought, she would once more remember what it was to smile. (To Green Angel Tower: Siege)

While the Sithi and the Norns are so very different from humankind because of their long life-spans, they do feel things in a way that is comparable to humankind. They love, they laugh and they sorrow just like mortals. However, Utuk’ku has divorced herself from her emotions in a way that makes her “inhuman” even to her own kind. 

Utuk’ku was the last of the Gardenborn: she had not survived all of her peers by many centuries through wasting time on useless emotions.” (To Green Angel Tower: Siege)

Because of her antiquity and her emotional remoteness, she is more of a god to her people than a member of their race - and her problem is perhaps that she has lived too long.

“What does Utuk’ku want, you asked?” 

Simon, confused by what had happened, did not respond.

“That I could not tell you - not with certainty. She is the oldest thinking creature in all of Osten Ard, Seoman, and she is far more than twice as old as the next most ancient. Be assured, her ways are strange and subtle beyond even the understanding of anyone except perhaps First Grandmother. But if I had to guess, I would say this: she longs for Unbeing.”

“What does that mean?” Simon was beginning to wonder if he was truly sober after all, for the world was slowly spinning and he wanted to lie down and sleep.

“If she wished for death,” Aditu said, “then that would be oblivion just for herself. She is tired of living, Seoman, but she is eldest. Never forget that. As long as songs have been sung in Osten Ard, and longer, Utuk’ku has lived. She alone of any living thing saw the lost home that birthed out kind. I do not think she can bear to think of others living when she is gone. She cannot destroy everything, much as she might desire to, but perhaps she hopes to create the greatest cataclysm possible - that is, to assure that as many living folk accompany her into oblivion as she can drag with her.”

Simon stopped, horrified. “That is terrible!” he said with feeling.

Aditu shrugged, a sinuous gesture. She had a lovely neck. “Utuk’ku is terrible. She is mad, Seoman, although it is a madness as tightly woven and intricate as the finest juya’ha ever spun. She was perhaps the cleverest of the Gardenborn.” (To Green Angel Tower: Siege)

She is so old, so remote from any kind of living being that she herself must feel like a kind of god. Yet she is, on some level, weary of life - but a god cannot just die alone, she must take the world with her into death. Thus, Aditu’s statement has the ring of a terrible truth:

“I do not think she can bear to think of others living when she is gone.“

That is terrible indeed.

Tolkien wrote Galadriel as an ancient being with an immense wisdom, grace and compassion - but he never really addressed what it would mean for a thinking being to live for eons. This is the question that Tad Williams explores with the character of the Norn Queen - and his answer is much more terrifying.

#tad williams #memory sorrow and thorn #the norn queen #tolkien #galadriel

[annacakes2]

Kroila Lavallen // Character Bio

Basics

Name: Kroila Lavallen Age at the start of their game: 23 Gender: Cis woman Sexual orientation: Bi Race: Elf Class: Rogue / Assassin Height: 5′0″ / 152 cm Weight: 114 lbs / 52 kg Eyes: Pink Hair color/texture: White blonde; straight Skin tone: Very pale Do they tan or freckle?: She burns easily rather than tanning or freckling Any distinctive physical characteristics?: She’s albino, and so has to visit a mage/healer every month, to adjust her eye sight so she doesn’t become partially blind.

Personality Personality type: INFJ / The Advocate Optimist, pessimist, or realist?: Optimist Best traits: Kind, patient, thoughtful, understanding Worst flaws: Too trustworthy, too willing to forgive, doesn’t allow herself to be angry/sad/feel negative emotions, can’t stand up for herself

Preferences Favorite color: Midnight blue, royal purple, silver Favorite animal: Halla / Deer (idk if deer even exist in Thedas but idc) Taste in clothing: Simple, light, and something loose and easy to move in How do they feel about mage rights?: She believes they should be free and that locking them away in towers isn’t a solution to stop the possibility of possession and blood magic. How do they feel about the other races of Thedas?: She’s impartial to both Dwarves and Qunari before she was sent to the Conclave as she had never had an encounter with either. After the events in Inquisition, she’s fairly curious about the Dwarves but remains impartial to the Qunari. She resents humanity as a whole for what they did the her People, but she doesn’t resent each individual human she meets without being given a good enough reason to. Are they religious?: Before Trespasser: She believes in the Elven gods like most of the Dalish. After Trespasser: She doesn’t know if Solas is telling the truth about the Evanuris but she is, at least, willing to believe that he believes everything he tells her is the truth he believes. She gradually stops thinking of them as gods, and ultimately stops believing in any higher power/s.

If they were to find themselves in a modern AU Favorite food: Victoria sponge cake Drink order: Strawberry smoothie What would they wear for a night out?: A cute, yet simple dress that she’ll either dress up or down depending on where she was going Song(s) that would be sure to get them on the dance floor: College major: Biology Ideal date: A picnic or going for a walk in a park; anywhere where she can just talk and spend time with her date Favorite movie and/or film genre: Romcoms

Family/Friends/Love Life Relationship with their parents: Her father died before she was two years old so she has next to no memories of him. He was a hunter and whilst hunting a bear for its pelt, it attacked and seriously wounded his leg. His luck continued to decline when the wound got infected. The last straw was when a version of the flu swept over the clan; the flu itself wasn’t very serious but coupled with the infection, eventually killed Kroila’s father. She is still very close with her mother, and the rest of her clan Siblings (outside of canon): None Best friend(s): Dorian, Cassandra, Solas, Vivienne, Varric, and Josephine Companion(s) they get along best with:  Dorian, Cassandra, Solas, Vivienne, Josephine, Leliana, Varric, Cole and Harding Companion(s) they get along worst with: Sera, though it’s awkward at worst since Kroila is someone who tries to avoid conflict most of the time. It’s mainly Sera’s inability to accept her beliefs and her identity as a Dalish elf.  Companion(s) from other games in the series you wish they could meet, and why: Merril since their desire to know their elven history would mesh well together, though Kroila would call into question her judgement and methods. Age of sexual debut: 16; it was during one of the few times the Dalish clans in the area had gathered and she and another elf called Ashala snuck off. It was the first time for the both of them so it was fairly awkward and after the gathering was over, she never saw Ashala or her clan, again as they travelled south into Ferelden. Romanced: Solas Relationship status as of the end of Inquisition: Single & heartbroken What are they like as a romantic partner?: She’s kinda shy when she’s trying to figure out her feelings but once she figures out she likes them, she’ll tell them not being able to not know whether those feelings are reciprocated. She loves to cuddle, hold hands, and to just generally touch her partner in non-sexual ways. She’s basically a fairly romantic person. Do they enjoy cuddling?: Hell yeah Do they want children?: She’s again, impartial to the idea of children; it’s just something that she’s never thought about. Do they (now or eventually) have children?: Yes, she has a daughter called Selanna who was born roughly 8 months after the defeat of Corypheus. She only found out she was pregnant when she was about two months along, so Solas was already gone and only found out through his agents.

Skills Can they cook?: Yes; she not exceptional at it, but she’s alright. Can they sing/play an instrument?: She can sing, but she rarely does. Are they a good dancer? If not, do they do it anyway?: Dancing isn’t something she’s really tried very often. Do they have any creative hobbies?: She likes to sew and embroider things. Any martial training beyond their main weapon?: She can dual wield daggers however she prefers long ranged combat using her bow. Languages spoken: Common and Elvish Any other unique skills they’d like us to know about?: She has the ridiculous ability to have near perfect balance on things that she should not be able to balance on; it’s a great conversation starter honestly.

Blank Character Sheet

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age Inquisition #DAI #the Inquisitor #Inquistor Lavellan #Kroila Lavellan #My OCs #Character Sheet #god i hope this makes it into the tags #since a lot of things i post haven't #been going into the tags #which is annoying #but anyway #here's my girl Kroila #i love her to pieces #and i felt like finishing her bio #so here she it <3333

[rannadylin]

Soul and Shield: Chapter 9

Previously: Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8 - or catch up quicker on AO3!

It’s about time these people all started working together! :-D

This is the sequel to Clan and Court, in which Watcher Violet, Priest of Eothas, welcomed her enormous clan to Caed Nua just in time to go investigate things in Dyrford. If you haven’t read that yet, start there and meet a few of her siblings who are recurring characters in this sequel. Bonuses in the sequel include: Aloth! Lenneth! (but not as a Watcher) More of Vi’s siblings, including Garivald being the mayor of their city! And plenty of mysteries to solve, Leaden Key to interfere, relationships to navigate, and oh yes, they still have that betrothal contract to deal with, technically.

Chapter 9: The Specialist

Word Count: 2.7K

Rating: G

Read it here or on AO3

It was quiet around the Itzli manor. That morning’s gathering, so many of her children reporting in at once, had clearly tired Izél even more than usual. She had slept until lunch time, during which, over the squash soup that Violet sat spoon-feeding her while Chimalli got some rest himself, she had rallied just enough to ask a few questions about the visitors who had come home with Violet and whom Izél had yet to meet, and to hint once again that it was a lovely time of year for a Coatl-Itzli wedding. Halfway through the soup, Izél gave in to sleep again. Violet’s youngest sisters being several blocks away at the calpulli school by that time, Yaretzi, the only sibling still young enough to be taught at home till he was of age to enter the school, had been admonished to play quietly in the first-floor schoolroom so as not to disturb his ailing mother in her room above him. The efficiency with which Izél’s youngest and most exuberant child nodded and sat down at his desk to silently paint a picture for Mama testified to the thorough resignation with which the household had adjusted to her illness after so many weeks.

Violet answered a knock at the front door, jarring in the midst of this afternoon hush, and found Anselm on the doorstep. An elven woman with light brown hair that reached to her chin, bits of it braided over her ears and other bits pinned back at the crown of her head, accompanied him, smiling broadly but frequently looking over her shoulder as if trying to keep an eye on the whole estate at once.

“Violet,” he greeted her without preamble, “there’s been --” then winced as if remembering himself. “Sorry. First, introductions. May I present Lenneth Morelli, of Tlanextic,” he waved at the elf, who lit up with a grin and reached to shake Violet’s hand, “whom the watch is assisting in finding an acquaintance of hers who disappeared recently. Lenneth, this is the Watcher of Caed Nua, Violet Itzli.”

Lenneth seemed neither surprised nor confused by Violet’s title, exotic both in her function as a Watcher and in the name of her domain in the Dyrwood; presumably Anselm had briefed her already before bringing her here. But at the surname Itzli, for a moment the elf’s grip in the handshake tightened and her eyes went wide in surprise, then her lips pursed and nose scrunched in confusion -- only for a moment. Then she was smiling again and saying, “I’m so glad to finally meet you!”

“Oh,” Violet said, scrambling to don again the manners of the thaynu of Caed Nua which, in her family home, had seemed safe to tuck away for the duration of the trip and just be Violet. Something in the elf’s soul resonated with Violet’s in that moment, but she resisted the impulse to reach out as a Watcher and delve deeper. It was one thing to stare at someone’s soul when it was on its way back to the Wheel already, or in those moments when another person’s memories overwhelmed her Watcher senses and could not be avoided, but to pry at a newly introduced guest seemed most impolite. “That’s...very kind of you. Won’t you come in?”

She led them both to the parlor, where Edér and Aloth sat bent over a game board as Yolotli stood by, apparently trying to teach them both the rules of quizaliztli . All eyes turned immediately to the new arrivals. “Anselm!” Edér boomed, his eyes crinkling with a mischievous grin. “I bet you play this keeza-whatsit, right? Soon as I’ve got the rules down here, I’m gonna challenge you to a game and beat you.” A vote of confidence came in the form of a meow from the enormous, white cat -- Yaretzi’s pet -- sprawled across Edér’s lap.

“Unlikely,” Anselm replied, returning the man’s grin with the slightest smirk, “but you’re on. Violet, I have a situation that would benefit from your expertise.”

Violet nodded as they all settled into chairs gathered around the players at the game table. “Of course.” She introduced Lenneth to each of those gathered, then nodded to Anselm again.

“I’m investigating a disappearance on behalf of Lenneth here,” he said, signaling to the elven woman to continue.

“Right!” Lenneth leaned forward, hands moving in quick gestures as she relayed the tale. “He’s been gone over a week now. A man named Grigor, whom I was meeting with the day before he disappeared. It was...a business arrangement. While I was there something spooked him and he asked me to come back the next day, but when I did, he was gone. And there were people watching the inn. They’ve been there ever since.”

“What would you make of this?” Anselm brought out from beneath his cloak a worn leather bracer and handed it to Violet, but it was Aloth who suddenly spoke, his voice strained.

“The Leaden Key.” He leaned closer to look at the symbol tooled on the leather along with Violet.

She frowned as she glanced to him, handing him the bracer to inspect. “You’re certain?”

“Well -- you know as well as I do their love of subtlety. It’s rare that they actually display the symbol, unless among the trusted faithful. But it isvery like the images of it I’ve seen on those occasions.” Aloth turned to Anselm. “Unless some other group in these parts makes use of such a symbol?”

“In that case, I would have recognized it,” Anselm shrugged. “But I think you have the right of it. This was found on one of several suspicious characters who’ve been lurking around the inn where Grigor was last seen. Lurking and subsequently attempting to interfere with the official investigation.”

“Nothing else to identify them?” Aloth asked.

“Not in the least.”

“That does sound like the Leaden Key,” he mused, handing the bracer back to Anselm.

Anselm tucked it away again, noting, “It seems to have come down to a race, then, as to whether we or this Leaden Key find the missing man first. Now, I’m confident we can track him -- I followed traces of his essence far enough from the inn to know where to start looking, at least, and I think if they had such a lead they would no longer have surveillance on the inn -- but they might well have the advantage in numbers.” He looked around. “Some of you, however, have the advantage of having faced them before.”

Aloth paled. Edér sat up straighter in his chair, wrapping an arm around the cat in his lap. Violet grinned. “Well, Aloth. I did tell you we could find a cell of them to hunt in Ixamitl as well as anywhere else.”

“We?” Aloth arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t ask you to leave your mother’s side for this, Violet.”

“Of course not,” she said. “My first duty here is to my family. But I don’t like the idea of the Leaden Key nosing around my city, either. I want to spend as much time with Mother now as I can,” she added, twisting her hands in her lap, “but for a good portion of the day she’ll be sleeping. I’ll do what I can to help with the hunt during that time. Count me in, Anselm.” She looked around the room. “But I won’t speak for all. What do you want to do?”

“I’m with you, Vi,” said Edér, reaching for her hand.

“As am I,” Aloth seconded. “Whatever the Leaden Key are after here, it must be dealt with.”

“I’m in!” Yolotli leapt up. “Xipil’s out hunting for the temple, but I’m sure he’ll want in too.”

“Thanks, Lottie. And Audie?” Anselm asked.

“Out to market, at present, restocking the pantry, since we’ve effectively doubled the size of the household,” Yolotli laughed. “I can’t imagine she’d sit this one out either!”

“We’ll ask her tonight,” Violet said. “Now, where do we start? Finding this Grigor? Breaking up this Leaden Key cell? Or finding out what they’re up to here?”

“Plenty of us for all of the above,” said Edér.

“If we find Grigor we’ll likely find the Leaden Key as well,” Anselm said.

Aloth sniffed. “Or lead them to him.”

Yolotli tapped a game piece on the table. “A red herring. We can plant false clues for them, lead them into a trap while we secretly find him ourselves.”

Lenneth leaned forward. “If I may, finding Grigor is the most important. I mean -- I’m very grateful for any help you wish to offer! And this Leaden Key, they’re definitely a threat, probably not just to him, but the longer we spend dealing with them, the colder Grigor’s trail gets. It’s very urgent that I find him soon.”

“Oh?” Aloth frowned, eyes narrowed, in her direction. “Why is that? A business matter, you said?”

“Yes, it’s…” Lenneth hesitated, tapping her fingers on the chair’s arm, her eyes flitting away and then fixing on Aloth again with a wry smile. “Well, he owes me money. A lot. He commissioned me for parts for some of those machines of his -- you should see them! His rooms are amazing, every bit of space filled up with these devices of adra and copper and --”

“He’s clearly an animancer,” Anselm interpreted.

“-- and I’ve got some skill with machines and things like that, my dad was a tinker and I picked up the trade growing up, and so he’d commissioned me -- I mean Grigor, not my dad -- to make some components he needed. To repair his machines. Don’t think he was from these parts, and he must have brought them all with him and not have everything he needed to keep them running. So that night I met with him, I was going to get an idea of what I needed to make and take measurements and things. Only he got scared and cut the meeting short, so I never got paid the advance he promised, and I’ve already bought materials so...well…” She trailed off as they all looked at her in various stages of thoughtfulness and doubt.

Aloth’s frown and eyes went even narrower. “And you’ve no idea why the Leaden Key is pursuing this man? You met with him; is there nothing else you can tell us about his dealings here? You examined the machines -- what of them?”

She flushed and sat very still, but answered with a faint smile. “I was going to examine them. I wasn’t really there long enough to say what they’d be for. And the first time I saw this Leaden Key was the day after Grigor disappeared, so no, I can’t say what they want with him. Maybe he owes them money, too.”

“It’s simply about money, then. No other reason you’re so concerned with finding an animancer.”

“Sometimes survival is simply about money,” Lenneth shot back, dispensing with the charm to simply glare at him now. “This has left me in a tight spot, and I just...don’t have a lot of options.”

Aloth opened his mouth to speak again, but Anselm’s polite cough interrupted. “Perhaps,” said Anselm, turning to Violet but keeping an eye on the elves, “under the circumstances, it would be best for Lenneth to stay here during the investigation, Violet. If we are to be working together.”

His eyes turned back to Violet then, one brow arched, and she caught his meaning. The better to keep an eye on her. “Of course,” she said, and her smile was genuine; this newcomer certainly needed keeping an eye on, but at the same time something in her obvious distress -- whatever the true reasons for it -- stirred Violet to compassion. “Lenneth, you’d be welcome.”

Lenneth looked between her and Anselm in surprise and hesitant relief. “That’s...Are you sure? I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“On the contrary, it really would be more convenient to have you here,” Violet assured her. She added, smiling sweetly, “Anselm, there’s room for you too if you’d like to stay. All the team in one spot.”

“I live all of eight minutes’ walk from here,” he reminded her, with a smirk that conveyed his recognition, and approval, of the game she was playing. “Lenneth’s inn, however, is on the other side of town. The Adra Antelope.”

“Absolutely unacceptable,” Violet declared. “Lenneth, go and get your things. We’ll see you here for supper in two hours, all right?”

“Oh...yes,” Lenneth said, blinking. “If you’re sure…”

“Go on,” Violet stood to shoo her out to the front door.

“Thank you,” Lenneth said on her way out, when it was just the two of them in the foyer. “This really means...well. It was getting dicey, keeping that room at the inn. And…” She looked away. “Well, just thank you.”

“Two hours,” Violet reminded her with a pat on the arm. “Going to need your help eating whatever Audie brings home. And probably cooking it, too,” she chuckled. “We all pitch in here.”

“Sure,” Lenneth smiled. She started down the front steps, then turned back with a thoughtful look. “Itzli,” she murmured, looking Violet over carefully. “That’s...a curious name.”

“A common one, in these parts,” Violet shrugged. “Ours is a rather large clan. I have twelve siblings. Four of those already have children of their own. And though my father is head of the clan now, there are numerous other branches descended from uncles and aunts, generations past. It seems the Itzlis have always favored an excess of offspring.”

“Hm,” Lenneth stared a moment longer, then shook her head. “Guess I’ve just heard it around.”

“You’ve met my oldest brother, the mayor. Maybe there.”

“Must be,” Lenneth shrugged, then hurried down the Itzlis’ lane to pay one last visit to the Adra Antelope.

Meanwhile, Violet stepped back into the parlor and nodded to Aloth. “She’s gone.”

“To her inn?” he asked.

Violet grinned, tilting her head. “Would be nice to know that for sure.”

Aloth’s eyes widened, then narrowed in resolution as he got to his feet. “I’ll be sure she doesn’t see me.”

Violet sat down again as Aloth departed. “You seem to think she’s trustworthy,” Violet said to Anselm as they heard the front door open and close again.

Anselm tapped a finger on the arm of his chair. “Her story doesn’t add up, I agree. I’m almost certain her interest in Grigor wasn’t just a business matter. According to the case files, she first told Garivald he was her uncle, and then that he was a mentor whom she thought of as an uncle.”

“But whom she just met for the first time the day he disappeared,” Yolotli recalled, arms crossed.

“Just so,” Anselm nodded to her. “I would rule out the possibility of her working with the Leaden Key, given that she wouldn’t approach Grigor’s rooms again until I went there officially and she used that occasion to sneak past their sentries. And that she did assist me in getting away from them, including killing two of their number.”

“Wouldn’t put a double cross past them,” Edér warned.

“Fair point,” said Anselm. “She also told me, after following me to his rooms, that she’d met him on a personal, not a business, matter. But on all other points, her story holds together well enough. She certainly needed, and still needs, something from him. She may even have been commissioned to make those parts for his machines; I sensed no lie in her when she said as much. My guess is that she wasn’t doing that work in exchange for payment, however, but for something else that clearly only Grigor can provide, or she’d cut her losses and find other work.”

“It’s still possible that what she needs from him isn’t something we want to facilitate,” Violet pointed out.

Anselm nodded. “Perhaps. But there’s something more to her...I don’t know. Not that she’s harmless, but there is something...familiar to her soul. I can’t quite put my finger on it. What I can read of her surface thoughts is chaotic, full of questions and impressions of the world around her, as if she’s pushed whatever drove her to Grigor far from her own notice and filled its wake with distractions. And a case that involves an animancer, pursued by the Leaden Key and by this curiosity of an elf? Well, I for one am very eager to get to the bottom of this.”

#pillars of eternity #pillars of eternity fanfiction #PoE fanfic #eder teylecg #aloth corfiser #watcher violet #ixamitl plains #orlans #violet itzli #violet #lenneth #yolotli itzli #anselm coatl #soul and shield #csi: citlatl #from the desk of ranna

[bestfriendforhire]

Children of BFFH, Entry 73

 “Care if I do some scouting now that we’re away from Ashengarde City?” asked Rona hopefully.  Having a character name that matched her actual name was convenient, but I still had her on my list.  When she had asked me to join her and some friends on a quest, I didn’t really expect anything as grandiose as this, nor as time-consuming.

 “Good plan.  I’ll cover the ground.” replied Holly Wood, who appeared to be a River Elf.  She had a bow and several types of swords.  Though Forest Elves were constantly fighting my people for land, River Elves were too far away to care about Muckbluck Goblins.

 I scanned my list for the player name that Rona had provided me.  “Doc” was what she had told me.  Was she actually named that?  If not, why would they call her a doc?

 “Anyone willing to carry my pack?” questioned Rona.  “Gets in the way if something attacks me.”

 “I’ll take it.  Perseverance can carry a lot.” I told her, having my character accept the moment she offered.  On one hand, a Paladin was guaranteed to be the most trustworthy ally, but handing over these ridiculously expensive packs with their even more expensive contents was insane.  Though Rona and I have been texting, we only met two days ago.

 My jaw dropped open as Rona changed into a black bird and flew away.  I’d have never guessed that her character was a shapeshifter.  Was that racial or a spell she knew?  Actually, I didn’t have a clue what any of these people could do.

 “Where’s Holly?” I questioned, realizing I couldn’t see her.  “I was going to assist her, since my stealth is decent, despite my armor.”

 Damien’s laughter was easy to recognize, despite being muffled from the coffin he was in.  “You’d never keep up.” he insisted.  I certainly hadn’t expected several characters to be vampires.  They all had very stereotypical coffins, hauled in a wagon covered by a canvas.

 “What Greythorn is trying to tell you is that Holly is a Ranger, as in the title.  She’s the best tracker and scout among us in the wilds.” explained Peredur, a tall fairy-like boy brown hair and gossamer wings.  He looked like a type of melee combatant with several weapons strapped to him.

 According to my list, that was… Four?  I really hoped his parents hadn’t numbered him.  I was fairly sure my clan had a NPC Ranger, but I didn’t have a clue what a player had to go through to get the title.

 “That does sound advantageous.” I admitted, wishing I knew more than that these were Four’s friends.  None of them sounded like adults, but did they all know Damien in person?  “If you don’t mind my asking, how did all of you meet?” I questioned.

 There was a brief pause before anyone replied.  Then Anima said, “Excluding Rona, we’re the children of Best Friend For Hire.  We all grew up playing this together where our parents work.  Since you’re going to see some strange things from my character anyway, I might as well tell you that my mom is the game’s developer, giving my character a unique inheritance.”

 Anima looked like a human priest.  She wore a perfectly white robe with silver trim and a black belt that held her morningstar and a dagger, so I assumed she was a healer, though most people focused on healing also carried a shield.

 “She means to say we inherited some admin-like abilities.” asserted Justine, sounding giddy.  Justine was probably human, though her skin and hair were perfectly white.  She wore a short skirt and a tight-fitting top, both in black.  The gold stripes on them made her look like some sort of superhero.  Lifting the enormous hammer strapped to her back would take inhuman strength outside of the game.

 Messy and Crazy were the supposed names of these two.  Was Rona just messing with me, or did they really call one another that?

 “So you’re sisters?” I asked, trying not to say anything embarrassing as my brain struggled with the idea that I was playing Ancient Tribes of Earth with the creator’s daughters.

 As Justine laughed, Anima said, “No.  Technically, she’s my niece, but we’re about the same age.  My sister is older.”

 “When you say admin-like, what sort of abilities do you have?” I asked hopefully.  Realizing she might not want to tell me, I quickly said, “Sorry.  I am curious, but you don’t have to say, though knowing what all of you can do might help if we get into a fight.”

 “Just listen to Ella or Four.  Ella probably remembers you exist by now.  She’s our de facto battle master when Four doesn’t take charge.  He’s our leader.” explained Kyduan, whom Rona named Aid.

 “Remembers I exist?” I prodded, not sure what to think of that.

 “Ella has very poor short-term memory.” explained Anima.  “As for my abilities, I can do things like this.” she stated just as an elephant appeared next to me.  “I ran into some trouble a few months ago, so I’ve been working at leveling my unique skills.  I can summon a large variety of the game’s creatures now.”

 “I spawn weapons, not creatures.” asserted Justine, using the shrug emote.

 “Okay…  so Anima is a healer with beast summoning, and Justine is a fighter?” I asked to confirm.

 “Yes, I primarily heal, so good way to think of us.” replied Anima.

 “I’m working on a Wizard title, so I have a very large number of diverse spells.” supplied Kyduan.

 “What’s that one give you?” I asked, feeling curious.

 “A flat twenty-five percent off on spell cost, twenty-five percent increased effect, and a number of unique spells.  The real trick to getting it is keeping all spell skills balanced for an extended period.  I have to do non-combat spells constantly to keep them on par with my other spells.” he explained.

 “If we explain what we can do, will you be able to remember which is which?” questioned Ada, who was walking by Adele, Adeline, and Adelaide.  The only distinct difference between the Elven girls were their weapons.

 I wasn’t even certain what type of Elves they were.  “I’ll certainly try, but… why did you make your characters so similar?”

 “We’re quadruplets.” stated Adeline, though she sounded exactly the same to me.

 Then Adelaide said, “Identical quadruplets.”

 “We’re used to matching.” added Adele.

 “I go to school with identical twins, but I haven’t met quadruplets before.” I admitted.

 Before I could say more, Holly came running toward us, calling “Hármann raiding party coming our way on blighthounds.”

 “How many?” asked Peredur immediately.

 “Around thirty.  I didn’t take the time for an accurate count, but I didn’t see any Pride Marks.” she replied.

 If I remembered right, Hármann painted their bodies as displays of their previous victories.

 “I took count!” exclaimed Rona as she came swooping down to land on Peredur’s shoulder. “Thirty-three of them.”

 “Can you control your minions from the air?” asked Four.

 “You bet!” she exclaimed.

 “Try to get them around to flank while flying circles over the Hármann party.” ordered Four.  “We’ll move to intercept, so Megwrn can see what we can do.  Ella, ambush plan.”

 Seemingly without even needing time to think, Ella said, “Right.  Mounted Hármann.  Aid stay with the cart and give the vampires cover on my mark.  They’ll charge in from the side after we engage.  Doc will create a trench in front of their charge, aiming to trip their mounts.  Then standard wall and assault formation.  Rona, use your magic to keep them funneled after the trench is deployed.  Some might try to escape the open side of our formation.  Messy, summon something ferocious if any get through the walls.  Layla, you’re part of the wall, so front line on the left, please.”

 “Wait.  My duty is to first try to make peace first.  As violent as they are, Hármann are intelligent.” I explained, knowing my new friends weren’t experienced at playing with a Paladin in their party.  “Also, what minions?”

 “Rona’s a Necromancer.  Don’t worry.  They’re not inherently evil.” supplied Justine.

 I had no experience with necromancers at all, so I had to take her word for it.  I was a little disturbed that I missed the fact we had Undead following us somewhere nearby.

 “In that case, hurry off to meet them.  When diplomacy fails, charge toward that thicket.” ordered Ella as she made her character point.  “We’ll reach there in time to hide.”

 I replied with the nod emote and hurried off.  This wasn’t how I was used to playing, but the experience would be good.  Small parties of my Goblin brethren rarely accomplished much compared with guilds like The Garde, and my solo play was largely just role-playing with the game’s NPCs.

 Spotting the raiding party, I rode out toward them, reigning Perseverance in a good fifty meters from them and casting Divine Presence to make me more noticeable while increasing my voice range.  Then I activated diplomacy and called “Please, stop and speak with me!”

 The riders turned as a group toward me and started speeding up.

 “If you do not slow yourselves, I’ll take that as a sign that you’re looking to fight.” I told them, frowning when there wasn’t a reaction.  With a sigh, I charged toward the thicket.  Diplomacy rarely worked on raiding parties, but I still hoped to pull it off eventually.  As I rode, careful not to outpace the raiders by too much, I pulled Hamchopper to the ready.

 When my mom decided to retire from the game, she had gifted me her giant cleaver, Hamchopper, as well as her armor and other gear.  Nekopawpaw had made Hamchopper a couple years ago as a special order through Uncle Mick, and the cleaver had proven its worth through countless fights.  Without the great gear, I probably wouldn’t have managed becoming a Paladin.

 Hearing the sounds of Hármann screaming behind me, I glanced back to see the back lines crashing into the front as a large pit opened in the ground.  By the time I was looking ahead again, spells and arrows were flying past me.  I hurried around to take my place, jumping off Perseverance as I reached the end of the line.

 A moving cloud of darkness charged into the Hármann raiders from the side, and the screams intensified.  When a zombie leaped onto the back of a Hármann who had attempted to flee, I realized that the fight wouldn’t even reach me.  I had seen some similar one-sided victories from the great warriors of my clan, but I never expected such a feat from other kids.

#Children of BFFH #Children #of #BFFH #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

[calamity-writes]

The Peoples of Entropic Horizons

Read Entropic Horizons here

Humans

By far the most powerful and most populous of all the Peoples of the Thedas system, humans vary  widely between size, colouring, build, aptitude, and religions. They are the ruling class of every planet and major colony in the Thedas system aside from the Par Vollen flotilla, Orzammar and Skyhold.

Compared to the other peoples, humans reproduce at rapid rates, allowing them to adapt to new habitats and skills much more quickly than the ancient peoples of the elves and dwarves. How they compare to the relatively new arrivals to the system, the Qunari, remains to be seen.

Only humans are able to become official rulers in the main nations, and non-humans are not able to serve directly in the Chantry or the Templars.

Basic Traits

Roles are Rarely Gender specific outside of the Chantry

heights average between 5'6'' and 6'' but not uncommon for outliers, builds muscular to slender

Round ears, hair that varies from blonde to red to black, skin from very pale pink to near black-brown

eyes that do not have  a tapetum lucidum (reflective lining on the retina that improves low light vision and glows like a cat's)

Age relatively quickly

Aka

Shems - Elven, 'Quicklings'

Shemlen - Elven, 'Quick children'

Basra - Qunlat (derogatory) 'useless thing'

Magic Ability - Present but still rare. Genetics play a factor but not guaranteed.

Notable Humans

Rythlen Theirin (Hero and Queen of Ferelden) & Alistair Theirin (king of Ferelden)

Empress Celene I and General Gaspard, the warring Lions

Captain Frederic Rousseau formerly of the Chevaliers and his son with Milliara, Nils DuLion

Former Champion of Kirkwall, Garret Hawke and his brother, Senior Warden Carver Hawke

The Advisors to the Inquisitor

Maeve Trevelyan, one of the Heralds of Andraste

Haylan the Enchanter, doctor within the Inquisition and former Hound of the Templars

Theseus Trevelyan, former Templar Knight, now Knight of the Inquisition

Almost everyone in power, really.

Elves

The elves have a poor lot in Thedas. once a thriving nation of near-immortals, now elves live either under the thumb of humans in slums called alienages, as slaves in Tevinter or as nomads that call themselves the Dalish. They have no true home, having lost each they founded to human empire builders.

No longer immortal, they still hold some characteristics of their ancient ancestors such as skin that can range from purple to golden, eyes that are inhumanly bright and can see more clearly in the depths of deep space than any human or dwarf can. And of course, their ears.

Recently, an elf has come to prominence as the Inquisitor and a Herald of Andraste. This has stirred elven populations throughout the system, to stand up against the injustices they face. A surprising number of elves also seek out the Qun, appreciating the transparent rules and roles.

Basic Traits

Roles are never Gender specific among the dalish, but city elves follow the human societies that they live in.

Eeights average between 5'0'' and 5'9'' but it is not uncommon for outliers, and Dalish tend to be slightly taller as they are less likely to grow up malnourished.

Their builds vary but elves are more slender by nature than humans.

Elves have pointed ears, hair that varies from white to red to black and gem-coloured skin that ranges from blue to golden.

Dalish elves have luminescent markings tattooed on their faces called vallaslin. The markings will often flicker in time with the elf's mood

In addition to having large eyes, elves have a tapetum lucidum that causes their eyes to glow like a cat's in low light. Apparently it can be unnerving.

Elves age and reproduce at rates comparable to a human (though slightly slower) however whenever an elf has a child with a human, dwarf or Qunari, the child appears to be fully the same race as their other parent. 

Aka

Knife Ear - common insult

Rabbit - Orlesian insult

Elvhen'alas - 'Dirt Elves', a Dalish slur for City elves

Flat-ears - a slur for elves too friendly with humans

Basra - Qunlat (derogatory) 'useless thing' for non-Qun affiliated elves

Magic Ability - Slightly more prevalent in elves than in humans, however whether this is due to the reduction of policing of mages among the Dalish, or a genetic trait is unclear.

Notable Elves

Dalish Elves

Milliara Lavellan - A Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, Former Orlesian Bard, former city elf

Fiowyn Lavellan - Cousin to Milliara, part of the Inquisition

Kalieth Surana - Grey Warden Enchanter, half sister to Aldes and Karya

Aldes Lavellan - A hunter, older brother to Karya and incorrigible flirt

Karya Lavellan - the First of what used to be Clan Lavellan.

Other?

Solas

City Elves

Briala, former lover of Celene I

Sera of the Red Jennys

Dwarves

While at first they might appear to be short humans, Dwarves are a distinct people from humans and incapable of interbreeding. Traditionally, Dwarves live underground on sub-planet Thaig. However many dwarves have ‘ascended’, leaving Thaig to seek fortune elsewhere.  Traditional dwarven life relies on a strict caste system, Once a ‘true’ Dwarf sees the sky, they are considered to be casteless, and cannot return to their past role.

To travel between planets, Orzammar dwarves use windowless ships  and shuttles to ensure that they do not lose their caste, although such trips are exceedingly rare. 

The Carta is a dwarven cartel that dominates the grey and blue (lyrium) markets, ruthlessly defending their business holdings with less than legal methods.

Basic Traits

Built short and stocky, Dwarves barely reach over 5′2″ but are dense with muscle and sturdy bone from developing as a people on  sub-planet Thaig which has a super-dense core, and increased gravity compared to the human planets.

In terms of colouring, Dwarves take after humans in range of hair, skin and eye colours, which is curious despite their ancestors living underground for so many thousands of years. 

Dwarven reproduction rate is slow, and the population has been in decline for centuries, aggravated by the attacks by Darkspawn on former strongholds.

Dwarves have exceptional hearing, and Dark dwarves often speak about the ‘song’ of the stone which allows them to find veins of minerals and other important geolithic features

Aka

Surfacers - Ascended Dwarves, dwarves who have seen the sky, stars or sun

Dark Dwarves -  ‘True dwarves’ who have not ascended

NugScats - Casteless Dwarves

Magic Ability - None, although Dwarves are skilled at enchanting magical effects into items they are completely unable to perform magic or even dream.

Notable Dwarves

Surfacers 

Varric Tethras - famous author, blogger and podcaster

Dagna Smith - formerly of the Smith Caste, now a renowned researcher and enchanter

Deep Dwarves

Orzammar’s King

Qunari

The Flotilla known as Par Vollen arrived in the Thedas System some time ago, but still not much is known about the People known as the Qunari. Initial scans appear to show that Qunari are the result of gene splicing, but such technology has never been known to produce viable individuals, let alone a fertile species of people.

Basic Traits

In the Qun roles are specified by Gender, but Gender is not specified by the sex one is born with. Qunari men hold martial roles such as Sten, Arishok and Ben Hassrath while Qunari women hold spiritual and guidance roles, and are considered to be the true power behind the Qun. Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth however tend to follow societal norms of the area they live.

Qunari are the tallest and most muscular of the people in Thedas system. Averaging 6-9 feet, their size is made more impressive when one considers the horns many of them grow. 

Like elves, Qunari have pointed ears, though they are smaller in relation to the Qunari’s skull. They also have inhuman skin tones, but while elves are ‘gem’ toned, Qunari tend to have skin the colour of metal.

Qunari often wear body and face paint made from substances that offer special protection against the hazards of space and battle. A trait unique to them, Qunari are able to survive in the void of space for brief periods of time with little side effect.

No one is certain about the aging rate of Qunari, as most met by non-Qun forces are killed in action or some other violent means.

Aka

Ox men - common insult

Magic Ability - Minor, seen as extremely dangerous, mages in the Qun are referred to as Saarebas and mages in the Qun are harshly treated if not outright killed. However mage Qunari exist among the Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth in small numbers.

Notable Qunari

Of the Qun

Sten, Veteran of the Fifth Blight

The Arishok of Kirkwall

The Iron Bull

Vashoth (not of the Qun, and never were)

Peanut and Tanim Adaar

Darkspawn

There are many theories and legends that surround the origin of Darkspawn and the Blight, the truth is that no-one knows for sure how the Blight or Darkspawn came to be. A true Blight occurs when Darkspawn rally around an Archdemon, developing a hive-mind. The Darkspawn horde then launches an attack upon non-infected populations, poisoning the land they inhabit and infecting or killing the individuals they find there.

The only known way of ending a Blight is to kill the Archdemon, and the only way to do that is to sacrifice a Grey Warden... until the 5th Blight when the Hero of Ferelden managed to slay the Archdemon without losing her life.

Darkspawn have overrun most of the sub-planet of Thaig save for a few holdouts like Orzammar, and now inhabit the deep caverns and mines on most Thedan planets. As a result any subterranean ventures deeper than a kilometer

Basic Traits

Savage, varying vastly in size, shape and ability

inhabit most of Orzammar

Magic Ability - Present in a few darkspawn, but these type of individuals are rarely seen outside of true Blights. 

Notable Darkspawn

The Archdemon of the 5th Blight

Broodmothers

Corypheus

Red Lyrium

Spirits

The Chantry teaches that all spirits are Demons waiting to trick unwitting mages into allowing themselves to be possessed. This is absolutely not true, although it is a belief that continues to be pervasive and colour the perception of the any contact with spirits even if they’re benevolent.

Spirits reside in the fade, and while some do twist into demons either of their own will or through mangled summoning rituals, many spirits are happy to stay in the Fade.

Basic Traits - Vary too wildly to specify. Spirits represent an aspect of the physical world.

Magic Ability - Innate and extensive. Spirit are magical beings by nature, and reside in the fade. They can become demons if they are summoned into the physical dimension and are twisted against their nature.

Notable Spirits

Faith/The Divine

Knowledge

Justice

Cole/Compassion

Demons

Basic Traits - Vary, but tend to follow the 'sins' taught by the Chantry: sloth, despair, pride, rage, desire (too often thought of as lust), but there exist others not yet known. The Inquisition has only recently identified Fear demons as being distinct from despair.

Magic Ability - Innate and extensive. Demons are magical beings by nature, and exploit their abilities to possess or ensnare a mortal to experience life through them.

Notable Demons

The Nightmare

Imshael

Golem

Golem are exceedingly rare. Aside from the deep roads and the golem serving Minrathous, only archival footage exists of the Golem that once served with the Grey Wardens in the third blight.

Basic Traits

Not squishy, no obvious gender roles but always best to ask the golem which pronouns they prefer. They hit hard

Inorganic, crafted by Dwarves from lyrium, crystsal and metal with a soul bound to them to animate the otherwise dead object.

Very tall, Golem are said to get as large as 20 feet tall, but modern history shows they range from 7 to 12 feet

Often (but not always) paired with a control mechanism. Either in the form of a non-replicable program or, in the case of truly ancient Golem, a rod mad of the same crystal as the Golem’s ‘heart’.

Magic Ability - None, but inherently magical beings as dwarven souls are enchanted into the Golem's body.

Notable Golem

Shale

Caridin

#the world of entropic Horizons #peoples of Eh #dragon age in space #AU #long post #gif warning

[herald-divine-hell]

A Love Letter (FemaleHuman!InquisitorXLeliana)

NOTE: I take most of this letter from a letter from Alexander Hamilton to his wife, Elizabeth Hamilton, in one of their love letters. This one was sent to Eliza in August 1780. I take no credit for Hamilton’s charming writing abilities and his fantastic way with words.  

Also...

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, EVERYBODY!

Leliana eyes’ brighten when she saw the familiar raven land on her desk. It was none other then Trevelyan’s raven. Leliana could tell because of the raven’s green ribbon that symbolize Trevelyan’s ownership on the bird. Petting the raven softly, Leliana plucked the letter from the bird’s neck and unwrapped it quickly. She would be lying if she didn’t say Leliana was acting like a school girl who received news on her crush. But nonetheless, Leliana smiled when she noticed the familiar, neatly, slightly tilted writing of Orlesian. Words flood her eyes as Leliana muttered each of the words. It read:

To My Dearest Nightingale, 

Impatiently, ma cherie, have I been expecting the return of your raven to bring me a letter from my charmer with the answers you have been good enough to promise me to the little questions asked by me. I long to see the workings of my Nightingale’s heart, and I promise myself I shall have ample gratification to my fondness in the sweet familiarity of your pen. You will, I hope, paint me your tender feelings without reserve--even in those tender moments of pillowed retirement, when her soul abstracted from every other object, delivers itself up to love and to me--yet with all that delicate which suits the  prodigious of your mind and which is so conscious in whatever you do. 

Cassandra just comes in and interrupts me by sending her love, a Dalish friend of mine, a heart-filled letter. She has told me that my friend and her have sent letters to one another, and they have meet when his clan visited Skyhold. Do you remember the white haired elf with strange purple eyes? His presence is rarely seen, or acknowledge, to those who see the Elven people as more then furniture. But, it seems our Seeker has fallen for the mystical elf, and I can not be happier. Though, that happiness would extended if I was by your side. Lavallen ask me for advice for courting out dear Seeker, and I have given him ample advice to woo our stern royal princess. 

But, my heart, and mind, turns to you when ever I see the couple’s joy. My heart yearns for the heavenly mirth of your divine voice. But, alas, our duties keeps us separate from our indestructible love. I often debate upon leaving the College of Enchanters, but, Fiona recommended that I do not. There are...rumors upon that I will be name the next Grand Enchanter, if the College is to be return. I have no doubt that you have heard of this inconspicuous rumor, and I worry that you might, or you already had, thought of me quitting you, and returning to rule over my fellow mages, but I assure you, my love for you will be the death of me. If I must enter the Black City, if it means that I can continue our relationship, then I will. But then, my mind returns to the Divine Election and your candidacy for the position of Most Holy, and I believe that you will do the most good for the people of Thedas then any other Divine in our long history, if you are to be elected to the esteem office.

The affairs of the Chantry are in so bad a plight that if no fortunate events attend her this campaign, it would seem impossible for her to proceed to be love by the people. But she is an obstinate old dame, and seems determined to run her whole family, rather then to let the Miss Mages go on flitting with her new lovers, with whom, as giddy young girls often do, she eloped in contempt of her mother’s authority. I know you will be justify her conduct and tell me the ill treatment she received  was enough to make any girl of spirit act in the same matter. But one day I cure you of theses refractory notions about the right of resistance, of which I foresee you will be apt to make a very dangerous application, and teach you the great advantage and absolute necessity of implicit obedience. 

However, we are talking of times to come, tell me my pretty Seneschal have you made up your mind upon the subject of a secret loving affair? Do you soberly relish the pleasure of being a bastard mage’s love? If not, my dear, we are playing a comedy of all in the wrong, and you should correct the mistake before we began to act the tragedy of the unhappy couple.

I shall propose you a set of new questions my lovely spy; but though they are asked with an air of levity, they merit a very serious consideration, for on their being resolved in the affirmative stripped of all the coloring of a fond imagination our happiness may absolutely depend. I have not concealed my circumstances from you, ma cherie; they are far from splendid, they may possible even be worse then I expect, for every day bring me fresh proof of the knavery of those to whom my little affairs. An indifference to property enters into my character too much, and what affects me now as my Nightingale is concerned in it, I should have laughed at or not thought of at all a year ago. But I have thoroughly examined my own heart. Beloved by you, I can be happy in any situation, and can struggle with every embarrassment of fortune with patience and firmness. I cannot however forebear entreating you to realize our union on the dark side and satisfy, without deceiving yourself, how far your affection me can make you joyful.

Now, my lovely Nightingale, my heart overflows with every thing for you, that admiration, esteem and love can inspire. I would, this moment, give the world to be near you only to see your sweet smile. Believe what I say to be true and imagine what are my feelings when I say. Let it awake your love and let our hearts melt in a prayer to be soon united, never more to be separated. 

Adieu, loveliest of our sex,

A. Trev

Leliana stared at the letter lovingly. “Sweet-talker,” she muttered, as she pulled the letter to her chest, her eyes closed, a gently smile danced on her lips. 

Her sweet-talker.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age 2 #dragon age inquisition #inquisitor x leliana #leliana x inquisitor #dragon age inquisitor #dragon age leliana #Leliana #the inquisitor #inquisitor trevelyan #Cassandra Pentaghast #cassandra x lavellan #josephine montilyet #dragon age josephine #iron bull #dorian pavus #Solas #dragon age sera #dragon age morrigan #Dragon Age Cullen #dragon age cole #vivienne de fer #the left hand of the divine x the herald of andraste #dragon age blackwall #Varric Tethras #morrigan x warden #the hero of ferelden #herald of andraste #left hand of the divine