The Personal Account of Myelin Lavellan

A DAI game diary for a male, elf, mage inquisitor

[myelinlavellan]

Romance at Skyhold

I caught Mother Giselle interrogating Dorian. Apparently, she is one of many who distrust him for being Tevinter. I wouldn’t have imagined her, of all people, being so rude as to call him out, right there in the library. I told her, even if she doesn’t trust Dorian, I do. Though when we first met in that abandoned chantry in Redcliffe, I was pretty certain I was walking into a trap. But, since then, Dorian has been nothing but forthcoming and helpful, not to mention skilled and knowledgeable. We went through that red lyrium nightmare future together, and he has never given me any reason to doubt him since. That got Mother Giselle off his back.

Then he mentioned that there were rumors beyond the Inquisitor being corrupted by a Tevinter adviser whispering in his ear. Rumors of a much more intimate relationship than whispers in the ear. I had certainly considered it. Dorian is intelligent, bold, and more principled than people give him credit. And most of his vanity is well deserved. That stupid shirt that exposes his shoulder always seems ridiculous, until both he & I realize how long I’ve been staring. But, with a perfect opportunity to say, “Let’s give them something to talk about,” I just couldn’t. He’s been going through a lot with his estranged father. He’s stuck out here in a foreign land, fighting a mind-boggling adversary. I don’t think he’s at a place for a fun fling. And I can’t commit to anything more than that. Besides, his mustache is so strangely shiny...

Maybe I’m just too much of a flirt, but breaking in my tower’s bed sounds like just the thing to bring me back down to solid ground. That might get me into trouble. It might get the Inquisition into trouble. It’s no secret I admire Josephine. She’s lovely to be around, she’s driven, capable... She has all the charm of a socialite with none of Vivienne’s haughtiness. And she’s cute. I’ve let her know I admire her. Apparently, it reached the point that Lelianna requested a meeting just to warn me against breaking her heart. She talked of Josephine like a fragile youth. To be honest, it drew attention to something unflattering about Josephine: The way she tends to fluster when flirted with. Maybe she is a little too young, too sheltered? You’d think it was a game she’d be well-versed in, but instead, I worry that I scare her!

I had a dream* where I went to her, we talked about Lelianna’s attempted interdiction, and decided to make a real go of a relationship. Later on, with the relationship in full swing, I kissed her right at her desk. It was sweet, as sweet as Josephine ever is, but still awkward. Sure, she bristled when I mentioned that Lelianna called her innocent in love, but she does seem flummoxed by it. She is so confident in diplomacy, but shy and faltering in reaction to any advances. Not the passionate response I’d want from a relationship that might become far more serious than any I’ve had before.

There is one more thing, regarding Josephine. I helped her with a family matter, and she opened up to me. She revealed she had been an Orlesian bard in her youth. Honestly, it wasn’t a staggering surprise, but it did excite me to think of Josephine being like the rest of us cut-throat adventurers. But, then she told me why she quit that life: She couldn’t take the killing. I don’t know if I can be with someone, like really be with them the rest of our lives, if they haven’t... Fought like I’ve had to. I remember feeling so apart from the soldiers at Haven when they first took me out of that cell to assault the Breach. Now, I understand those soldiers all too well. And I can’t imagine being with someone who does’t get that. For my sake, and for theirs.

Which leaves Cassandra. She is a soldier, through-and-through. And she’s amazingly passionate. When her eyes light up and she knows just what to do... The only thing is, she doesn’t look at me like that. Sure, she respects me. She put me in charge. It was the highest compliment of my life. But, we disagree on how to treat the rebel mages. And I am no Andrastian. Well, not the kind she’s used to. She did open up enough to ask of me a favor: Hunting down some men that the Seekers were concerned about. How about that? One girl loathes killing, the other might give me attention if I kill for her. How fucked is my moral compass that I long for the latter.

*meta: I gave it a shot, but had to reload an old save. I need to find out if I can get Cassandra’s approval high enough to get her to like me back before I commit to the classic Bioware fragile girl romance.

[myelinlavellan]

The Forbidden Oasis & the Storm Coast

I lost some diary entries during the attack on Haven. Let’s see about recreating a couple...

Two interesting destinations: The Forbidden Oasis and the Storm Coast.

The Forbidden Oasis is possibly the most stunningly beautiful piece of nature I have encounter, if only it didn’t feel so hauntingly unnatural. In the middle of the desert in western Orlais, a spring feeds an oasis. That oasis feeds plenty of flora and fauna. After the long, hot, dry trip out there, feeling the fresh water in the shade of the canyon above was perfection. Sorry to say, the place is lousy with shards.

These shards were so much fun to hunt in the Hinterlands, but here they feel like unholy grenade shrapnel. At its epicenter is a door. A door that drives dwarven miners mad. A door to an underground temple named fucking Solasan. Solasan. SOLASan. Wouldn’t you know it, the bald bastard didn’t say a single word about that little coincidence. You are supposed to be my magical adviser! I dragged your ass all the way out to this tainted oasis to an evil, magic door with your gods damned NAME WRITTEN ON IT, and you don’t say a word?! I didn’t ask. I knew he’d just clam up.

When I finally get the nerve to open that door, I’m throwing Solas in, closing it again, and counting to two hundred. If he makes it, we’ll meet what else wants to kill me down there.

The Storm Coast. In a few words: bandits, heretics, spiders, and a very pissed off dragon. I actually kind of like the Storm Coast now. The dragon left. That’s right. A dragon fighting a giant. I got close and the giant almost wiped out four of the Inquisition’s least lucky with a single tossed boulder. Praise all of them that the dragon didn’t even take notice.

On the bright side, I got the Blades of Hessarian on my side. Another sect of religious fanatics. These ones had killed some Inquisition scouts. Fortunately, I was able to duel their leader and somehow walk away with a peace. I am very happy for that, even if it only worked because I am technically their new leader. Whatever keeps the most blood in veins.

I also met the Iron Bull, the leader of a mercenary company and now a member of my direct team. He’s a fascinating man... He admitted immediately that he was a spy for his homeland. I asked him why he’d just tell me, and he just shrugged and said Leliana would have found him out anyway. Now, we openly share information. I hope I haven’t doomed too many enemies of the Qunari. Granted, that’s pretty much just Tevinter, so things happen.

Ugh, no, no one should die. Even the Vints. What’s wrong with me?

[myelinlavellan]

Corypheus & Skyhold

The truth was much worse than I imagined. The Elder One came to Haven.

It’s been a while since then. I stopped writing. I let myself disappear into the Storm Coast and the Exalted Plains and the Fallow Mire, trying to ignore the fact that he’s still out there. That he has an army of templars already corrupted with red lyrium. “The Future Averted.” I am a fool. It’s already happening.

Closing the Breach over Haven was actually quite easy. No days-long coma this time. Instead of waking to a blasphemous new title, I simply walked back down the mountain and got to see my people rejoice. So funny, how they came to feel like my people...

And, yes, the templars attacked, as predicted. But they were not led by Lucius Corin. They were led by Corypheus, one of the magisters who violated the Golden City, blackened it, and brought back the Blight. I wouldn’t believe it, but for Varric claiming that he and the Champion of Kirkwall had met him once before. Also, because he appears to have a pet dragon or archdemon or old god. And he looks the part. Gods, the Chantry was right! I hope that was Andraste I saw. More and more, I pray to her. Or at least for her.

He led an army of red lyrium-tainted templars. It’s like he brought a new form of Blight. And to think, he was once a man. Of all the blood that ever was, a staggering amount is on his two hands.

We got almost everyone out. I faced him, man-to-man-with-a-dragon. Apparently, my hand is a beacon misplaced, a spell misfired. And, by falling to me, it has been ruined for Corypheus. Sadly, he refuses to let me go with it. And apparently he can’t just lop it off and send me on my merry-if-stumpy way. No, one of the magisters of the Black City wants me dead.

And I fucking escaped the bastard and buried his infernal army under TWO avalanches. Ha!

Afterwards, we were broken and frozen, stuck in the snow not far from Haven. At least the former party’s booze must have kept a few people warm. And then, the strangest thing of all happened: The camp was overcome with hope. Hope because I was alive. Mother Giselle led everyone in song. Utter madness.

Who makes the clown laugh? Who gives the Herald of Andraste hope?

It used to be Cassandra.

Solas led us to an abandoned fortress he learned of in his Fade dreams, Skyhold. The place is truly legendary. It is exactly what we needed, after Haven was attacked. It is large, imposing, and defensible. It feels fitting for the Inquisition as a political power to rival the rest of Thedas. I mean, it didn’t feel that way when I first arrived. Gods, I have changed since the attack, since I stopped writing. I should write here, when we first arrived, it felt like my clan running to the shade of a forgotten Elven ruin during a rain storm. We had just as much legitimate claim to the place, just as much legitimate ownership and knowledge and ability to build upon what was given to us. We were not a political power. We weren’t even an army anymore. We were refugees. Survivors. Without hope, we were hardly even that.

And then Cassandra took me up to the battlements and named me Inquisitor. I had already informally fancied the title as a secular alternative to the Herald of Andraste, but I had no idea the connotation. That title put me officially in charge. Cassandra announced it, and Leliana handed me a ceremonial sword. The thing was huge. If my heart hadn’t been pounding like red templars at the gate, I’m not sure if I would have been able to lift it one-handed, as I did when I took the title of Inquisitor.

It should have gone to Cassandra. She started this mess. She’s the one who gives me hope. But now she mostly sticks to her training exercises out in the yard. Not even supervising others with Cullen, as she did in Haven. She’s just out there, wailing on a strawman. I hope she isn’t reconsidering all she’s done.

Anyway, the place is gorgeous, dare I say regal? From its war room, I have done so much. Ugh, I can’t believe I’m going to write this. It’s going to sound so bad written down. Here we go: I have thrones. Not one. Multiple. I... I switch them sometimes. Sometimes, I have men carry one of my thrones and replace it with another of my thrones in my throne room, which only contains one of my thrones at a time. I don’t know where they put my other thrones, when they are not the throne in my one-throne throne room. The place was so big, I half expect to stumble upon them while trying to find a midnight snack. I hope every man who has had to help move one of my thrones has also sat in every one of them. I hope they circle them up and play poker in them. I hope, for every time that I’ve asked them to switch out my throne, Sera has me killed. When did I become this?

[myelinlavellan]

The Venatori & the Future Averted

I have survived the most dreadful experience of my life, and I don't know if I can stop it from happening again. I went to Redcliffe to meet with the rebel mages. I had such hopes of a functioning society, with mages living in safety, in the middle of all this chaos. Instead, I discovered a Tevinter mage, Gereon Alexius, had all but conquered the city, literally enslaving Grand Enchanter Fiona, and indentured her people. When we met, she had no recollection of our brief meeting in Val Royeaux. Lady Vivienne, who I brought along with great ambivalence to help with diplomatic matters, seemed shocked at the Grand Enchanter's gaunt face. Truly, she was already less than what she once was. I no longer had any interest in dealing with Alexius. I wanted answers and freedom for my people. My first meeting with Alexius was cut short by his son's failing health, but I was passed a note saying my life was in danger and that I must go to the Redcliffe Chantry. There, I met another Tevinter mage and Alexius's former student, Dorian Pavus. A charismatic, intelligent sort. From noble parentage, but near as much a rebel from Tevinter as his fellows from the Ferelden Circles. I think I can trust him, and I soon had to. With Dorian by my side, I confronted Alexius in the throne room of Redcliffe Castle. I demanded he step down. However, he had other plans. Magic like I had never seen before enveloped the room. Dorian says, without him, I would have been worse than dead: Obliterated from time itself. I believe him, because instead of obliteration, I was flung one year into the future, in as little time as one of my breaths! According to Dorian, Alexius had been meddling with daring, untested time magic. He had used it to arrive in Redcliffe immediately after the Divine's death and seize control. He also may have been using it to get to me. But this magic is flawed, and causes damage to the fabric of reality itself. I take Dorian at his word; I don't know if even I as a Mage could comprehend or experience such damage. But other damage, I could see quite clearly. The world a year from now is catastrophic. The Breach will spread across Thedas. An army of demons will claim the land. Redcliffe Castle itself was fractured and demented, filled with red lyrium. That's the curse that made Kirkwall fall, and drove Varric's brother mad. I hadn't brought Varric along on this mission. Though his cunning would have been useful, I felt that Sera's experience with servants would help if we needed to delicately move about the castle or get help from its people. Thank the Creators. I saw the companions I had brought with me, as well as Lelianna, one year older and after one year of torture at Alexius's hands. Grand Enchanter Fiona herself, Gods, it disgusts me, she had red lyrium growing out of her. Cassandra too glowed with its taint. Sera was strong. Unbelievably. She was scared, but wanted revenge. Lelianna... She had been harvested again and again for live tissue to keep Alexius's son alive. When I found him, you could hardly call it life. When I found her, she had not fared much better. I am wracked with guilt over what I saw. I do not know if I could continue if I could fully understand the suffering beyond those castle walls. The idea of Varric being forced to ingest red lyrium has haunted my sleep ever since. Dorian returned us to our time. We captured Alexius. I freed the mages and allied them with the Inquisition. But I feel doomed. Alexius was not alone. He is working with a Tevinter cult, the Venatori, in worship of the Elder One. He remains. In the meantime, my people are not happy about the rebel mages being allies instead of prisoners. I could not do that to them again. Not after what Alexius undoubtedly made them do, made of them. I will not use people. My people. Every day away from the Lavellan clan, I feel less a Dalish elf and more a rebel mage myself. And yet, Alexius and the Venatori are the enemy of all Thedas. Even the Kirkwall Templars were mere mad beasts, poisoned by the red lyrium that the Venatori hope to ruin the world with. Dorian spoke to me of Tevinter. In no uncertain terms, he says it is a cautionary tale, not a model. Rampant corruption and yes, real, monstrous blood magic barely hidden below the surface. We can't become like Tevinter. I must free the mages. I cannot free the mages. I must save Thedas. I feel weak at the thought of red lyrium. Keeper, would that you were here. Tomorrow, with the help of the rebel mages, we march yet again on the Breach. For now, I rest and await Lelianna's report on Corin's templars. I expect the worst: A direct attack to snuff out the rebel mages and the Inquisition, just after we break ourselves against the Breach.

[myelinlavellan]

meta & Mass Effect 3

Thinking about Dragon Age: Inquisition through the filter of Myelin has so far been a big success, I think.

He doesn’t vary much from my opinions. I always play moderately anti-Chantry mages. (At least, ever since my dwarf noble warrior who I was roleplaying as a zealous convert to the Chantry following his banishment got stuck in a back alley in Denerim. Terrible place to go for your first mission after defending Redcliffe… He languishes there to this day, with his Leliana romance unfinished.)

Myelin does have a bit more fire about the Dalish, a bit more relevant insecurities… And most importantly, a lot more compassion and introspection. Go figure, a diary-keeper being introspective. But I think it has flexed those muscles in me. For example, putting myself in Myelin’s shoes forced me to get over Sera being a bit annoying. If I were just a critical, nit-picking customer, I probably would have just said the writing was bad and moved on. Now, I really do like her.

This game diary has contrasted tremendously with my experience with Mass Effect 3. I loved Mass Effect 1. Played it multiple times with actual roleplaying changes, which is rare for me. Mass Effect 2 was also a blast. But then I played Mass Effect 3. 1 & 2 I played in gleeful, nerdy solitude, but, for ME3, my then-roommate watched. My roommate is a lot like Myelin in his compassion and level-headedness, but, comedian that I am, I felt the need to be brash and loud and make fun of every step of the way, just to see my roommate enjoy watching me. Completely different experience. Immersion was completely gone. Pathos drained. It sucked. It was not the me who played video games. It was, like, drunken bad movie watching me. And with that, Mass Effect lost its spark. I quit half way and gave up on one of my favorite series. Then my 360 broke.

This here is similar, but the opposite. Technically, I’m still playing for an audience, but if you all get anything out of this, I hope it’s a little pathos, a little humor, and a clear sign of engagement. I want to find the better person I can be when I play certain video games and make him visible to all of you, and thus make him a stronger part of me. Because he seems to be a good guy and just what I need right now.

Of course, if I replay with the asshole qunari tempest rogue that’s been rattling around my head, watch your butts.

[myelinlavellan]

The Inquisitor's Companions

The more time I spend with my companions, the more I seem to invert my view of them. Of course, Lady Vivienne has fallen out of my favor faster than a rock from the sky. What a rubbish person...

My opinion of Cassandra changed immensely too, not long after I met her. Of course, I met her in a prison cell, swords drawn, torture eminent. But that never came to pass. Dare I call it all an act? It felt real enough at the time, but she was so quick to press me for guidance, to value my opinion. And then, when Chancellor Roderick (The less said the better) wanted to take me to Val Royeaux for immediate trial and execution (Excuse me, chancellor, but why waste breath on the former if you're ready to announce the latter? What a blowhard thug. But, he was scared. We all were. Moving on.), Cassandra stood up for me. Without pause and with stern resolve. Maybe I was just desperate, maybe I still am, but it felt like compassion. I believe she feels the same way about the Inquisition as she does me. She isn't certain, but she is deeply, richly hopeful. She is blessed with hope, a blessing of hope.

Varric doesn't see it that way, though. His sense of humor and friendliness are as obvious as sunlight, but so are the scars he carries. Any mention of Kirkwall takes the light out of his face. Stumbling upon red lyrium, which I understand took his brother from him as well as his city, turns him grimmer than the darkest storm. I wish I had known him during the beginning of his time with the Champion of Kirkwall. I wish I could stop it all from happening to him.

He really snapped at Cassandra the other day. She asked him about the welfare of his "Kirkwall associates." Oh, boy. He shot back with mock surprise that his correspondence wasn't being monitored anymore. Cassandra said he wasn't her prisoner, to whit Varric replied it still felt like it, and that his associates are called "friends," a word Cassandra might not be familiar with. It was so petty. Varric... She's worried about you. You two got started poorly, but if you really think Cassandra has trouble making friends, why can't you see that this might be her trying? I never thought I'd think of Cassandra as young.

Sera, too. I like her. I think she's a good sport. Her daring spirit is a welcome addition to our camp. Yes, her filthy humor is excessive. Yes, it is tiring. But then I put myself in her position. Coming to Haven was a shock, but I've been here since the beginning, except for a brief coma epilogued with a hero's welcome. Sera is a young woman in the middle of someone else's war camp. She's nervous! Obviously, and with very good reason! Gods, it's actually nice to know someone else is. So, I'll take her childish jokes with a smile. She's a good one; she belongs here. And I'll have to go barrier-jumping with her soon! I bet she can put an arrow in a fennec before touching ground. Let everyone else think we're crazy. We deserve a little crazy these days.

meta: I better get Dorian in my party soon, and he better be charming as fuck if he wants to get romanced as planned, because Cassandra is quickly becoming my favorite. I wish there were more conversations to be had with companions at Haven... I guess i just need to further the plot, but there’s so much else to do! What a great problem to have.

[myelinlavellan]

Vivienne and the Circle

Oh, now hold on, forget anything I've written praising "Lady" Vivienne and any sort of diplomatic tact. Her condescension is at the level of a pampered princess. If she climbed a single step of a ladder to get where she is today, she must have gotten help lifting her foot. In Haven, she asked me about my magical training. Very well. As a Circle mage, I'd expect plenty of curiosity. There's plenty to learn. I proudly told her of Keeper Deshanna, who taught me respect and control, compassion and maturity. I was trained well. Then this "lady" belittles my way of life, asking if the Dalish will take all mages under their wing now, as if it's our fault that the Chantry and its Circle collapsed. I have had to take the lives of dozens of her Circle mages. I pay for her high society's failure. And so do her people, dearly. Yes, maybe you all SHOULD be a little more Dalish. Is it so hard to imagine that we might be better at something that your people are killing each other over? Can elves do nothing right? Condescending Orlesian prick. I must calm down. In a way, she isn't completely wrong. Do I think the Chantry should be destroyed? No. It's not my history, nor my religion, nor my culture, but I don't believe a keeper should ever hasten such a demise. It is someone's history, someone's religion, someone's culture. And plenty of Chantry members are committing great acts of kindness and service in this conflict. Should the Circle fall? Kirkwall's, yes. But I do love the idea of mages working together in safe study. The Dalish system works because of intimate care and empathy. Circles can turn into heartless prisons that exacerbate the very danger they purportedly protect against. Or they can be a home. A community. Mages must work with other mages. Demons, both Fade-bound and in our own souls, are best fought through our positive connections to our fellows. What the humans need is significant reform. The Chantry and the Circles need to hash this out, learn from others and their own mistakes, and never let a Circle become half as cruel as Kirkwall again. Come to think of it, why don't we gather all but the most radical and paranoid Chantry, Circle, and Templar leaders in the same place and have them chat? We can also send a young Dalish boy, have him survive a huge explosion, and give him a weird, magic hand disease! Then he'll probably die in the ensuing war! Huzzah! I truly regret comparing Josephine to Vivienne negatively. If Vivienne tries to belittle the Dalish and our methods again, we'll find out if this hand of mine can tear the Fade as well as mend it. I shouldn't joke about that.

[myelinlavellan]

An Elf in Val Royeaux

Val Royeaux is gorgeous. I made my first excursion into the city at the Summer Bazaar, and could not have been more impressed. Pristine spires, hanging silks, nobles dressed in high collars and delicate masks... Even the graffiti had a sense of haughty wit! The most remarkable character I met on this first trip was a singular merchant in a dark shop on the uppermost level of the Summer Bazaar. He is a merchant of a single item. An item you are not allowed to see, and which he will not describe. An item with a very definitive price: 10,000 gold. I was struck dumb by the merchant’s nerve. Was this a joke at my expense? But then he explained, the price is the product! Orlesian social circles are so interlaced that he has developed a minor fame and even community of clientele, waiting for someone to make the purchase or trying methods to decrease the price (always unsuccessfully). It is absolutely absurd, and I love it. I laughed my stomach sore in the street afterward. They’ve bred a little dragon to slay with their purses, and now they’re too scared to do it! I have half a mind to bribe the man myself, just to keep the game going.

Of course, not every encounter was so pleasant. Not long after I arrived, I was confronted by Reverend Mother Hevara, a pack of her chantry hounds, a crowd of agitated Orlesians, and a gallows. That just about completed my list of ways in which this trip could go to complete shit. And just when Hevara was really getting aggressive, Lord Seeker Lucius Corin, head of the Seekers and thus, in the chaos, the Templar Order, burst onto the scene. He marched in with his men, took the stage, and punched the Reverend Mother in the jaw so hard, she was still on the ground when I left sometime later. I have never seen anything like it. He proceeded, in the most arrogant way possible, to declare Val Royeaux unfit for protection by the templars and to lea his men out of the White Tower to places unknown. Leliana is working on that now, but I don’t see any value in chasing that mad man. Cassandra insists he was once a good and noble man, but, if I didn’t know better, I’d say a demon of pride is wearing that once good and noble man like a late winter’s cloak. But that’s impossible. He’s no mage, and Cassandra told me seekers are especially trained to be immune to such attacks. And how could a demon gain purchase among those most trained to defeat them? No, I expect a simpler solution. Men do not need demons to become demons. We carry our worst selves with us always. Whoever Corin once was, the Conclave and the Breach have simply worn away his best self. I pity him, and sympathize.

In lighter news, I made two new acquaintances in Val Royeaux who have since joined my team directly. Two women both alike in unquestioned self-assurance, though perhaps in nothing else.

Lady Vivienne is the personal enchanter of Empress Celene of Orlais. Or, at least, she was, until I poached her. What is this life? She is a force of nature, prepared and served with only the finest sauce and garnish Orlais has to offer. Her effortless power puts Josephine to shame. She invited me to a small soirée along with many of Val Royeaux’s nobles. Have I mentioned that three months ago, I had spent almost my entire life in the woods? May I again? I was delighted when a masked noble stole me from my conversation, denounced the Inquisition, and challenged me to a duel. A duel! A proper, Orlesian noble duel, with a stain on my honor and a challenge and A DUEL! It was everything Varric had warned me about, with a twinkle in his eye. It was only when the man went for his sword and Lady Vivienne froze him solid, just like dozens of spellswords slain by Solas in the Hinterlands, that I realized this wasn’t a story. Life was at stake. Lady Vivienne allowed me to decide the man’s fate, but, if she hadn’t, I would have begged for his release. Gods, I thought I was at a simple party. I miss parties.

My other new companion is none other than Red Jenny. Or one of them anyway. This one is Sera, a young elf girl, accomplished archer, and truly base wit. Her gang, the friends of Red Jenny, apparently have branches throughout Thedas, and specialize in servants undercutting despicable masters, ranging from pranks to assassination. I can see some fun and justice in that. Cities aren’t tall because some buildings can top some trees. If you know where to look, there are trees that put all of man’s work to shame. No, cities are tall because you can see the mighty tower of men standing on the beleaguered backs of other men, who in turn stand upon a legion of washerwomen and servants and maids, who stand upon a pile of elven corpses. But I also fear the repercussions of her group’s little rebellions. Surely, as an elf, she understands the fire she’s toying with. When the nobles fear something, they crush it. Better to disappear than to be feared without the power to back it up. That’s why the Dalish have had to melt away into the forests. And yet they still tell stories of elves stealing children or raiding villages.

Sera and Solas both have been perhaps the greatest source of hatred I have experienced for being Dalish. How could Sera disdain her fellow elves living freely while she suffers so passionately under the yoke human nobility? How could Solas turn his back on elves trying desperately to hang on to what little remains of our culture? I wish he would see reason and help us. I must admit, at times in my apprenticeship, I lost hope. A line of people can only pass a bucket of water so far until the thing has splashed and spilled and dripped itself dry. If we elves do not find new ways to add to our shared knowledge, the legacy of the keepers will be a dry bucket. And yet, I must admit some doubts of Solas too. His study of the Fade is wonderful; I am delighted in its ingenuity and open-hearted daring. But when he spoke of bringing down the Veil... Gods, did he know to whom he spoke? All I am now is a device to mend to the Veil. That is the function on which my life is now predicated. That sort of talk, that sort of arrogance, in a mage! I’d never warn him to his face. Mages get that enough. But I will watch closely. Of course, it will be no lie to say I wish to learn everything he can teach.

meta: Jesus, I wrote up and accidentally deleted this entry TWICE already. And it was a long one! I am so glad to have it out. Plenty of thoughts on Vivienne & Sera are in the pipeline, as well as trips to the Storm Coast and the Forbidden Oasis. Thank you for reading!

meta 2: Also, if Lucius Corin doesn’t have a pride demon in him, I’ll eat a bug.

[myelinlavellan]

I jumped off the highest tower of the Grand Forest Villa in the south of the Hinterlands today and landed without a scratch thanks to the barrier spell I picked up from Solas. I doubt he ever used it so flippantly, but maybe I'll get him to jump with me some day soon. It's great fun. I can't let Sera find out, or that's all we'd do! I introduced her in an earlier entry about Val Royeaux, but the page was accidentally burnt. I will do my best to recreate the entry soon. Jumping from that tower really did do my heart good. I found a commendation for service to Fereldan in the pocket of a dead bandit today. These men weren't always stuck to their small lives of violence in the woods. I wonder if he had ever fought alongside the Warden Commander herself... I could see the Warden Commander jumping off a tower for fun. She'd probably kill a dragon on her way down. Now she was a mage.

[myelinlavellan]

I saw a dragon today. Nope. Forget that path. That path doesn't exist anymore. That's the Gods damned dragon's path now. Goodbye, Dusklight Camp. Enjoy yourselves. Stay healthy. Don't ever travel north, for the love of your own fragile, edible hides.

[myelinlavellan]

Love & the Herald of Andraste

Another couple days spent in the Hinterlands outside of Redcliffe. Every day I spend out in the wilds while Redcliffe goes unvisited heightens my anticipation and anxiety. But there's so much work to be done out in the Hinterlands, for its people and the Inquisition. In just small stretch of time, I have recruited three agents to the Inquisition, each with the same tragedy: A romance ended with a war death. It haunts me to imagine how many of those I've caused, but at least I have helped some afterwards. The greatest deed will be to stop this conflict and stop these deaths before they happen. The Breach has made demons of us all. I found Lord Berand at the Winterwatch Tower, a rather large community of refugees I found worshipping a rift. Gods barely know how they weren't torn apart by demons before I arrived to seal it. More on that later... He had made it to relative safety, along with so many others, but his lover Vellana was not so lucky. Another body in the hills. He joined the Inquisition. And then I found yet another body in the woods, from whose effects I gleaned was a lovelorn templar, trying to reunite with his lover and deliver her phylactery. (I understand that phylacteries are used by the Circle to keep their mages in check and under watch. I wonder how that process failed so catastrophically around Thedas. Were they all seized by mages? How many mages are still being kept chained by phylacteries? Or maybe I overestimate them... Are they actually used to control mages, or just track them? Maybe, to avoid the obvious blood magic, they are only used for the latter, and there are too many "apostates" to track now. It'd be like knowing the location of every mouse in the large field. What does it matter when there are so many? I digress.) I returned her her lover's letter and the phylactery. Damn the human delusion that mages do not deserve sovereignty over their blood. Anyway, she joined the Inquisition as well. I will not share her name. And finally, the unique take of Scout Ritts. Another of our scouts had reported their partner, Ritts, missing. I expected the worst, another love cut short, this time between two of my own soldiers. Little did I know, Ritts was presently in the intimate company of an apostate! Lord Berand & his Vellana are a sad, yet common story. The templar & his bloodbound enchantress was more tragic, their love less likely. But for Ritts to meet an apostate out in the field and find affection is a spectacular tale. If only I could get a word out of any of the rebel spellbinders I meet, though they might not find me quite that friendly. And yet my stomach sinks with remembering the scene. We came moments, damned MOMENTS too late. Templars had hacked the apostate to death and almost sent Ritts along with her. What a monstrous waste of something good out here in these cursed Hinterlands. After we dispatched those bastards, I let Varric talk Ritts into becoming an agent operating out of Haven. I fail to see how a military promotion would provide any comfort to her, but she took it well. In other news, the Winterwatch Tower community. It shames me to admit this, but I took the moniker of "Herald of Andraste." I used it like a tool in a lockpick's kit. I knew these people were religious, and I wanted to be what they needed. They certainly did not need to worship a rift for any longer. It already seemed to be affecting their mental wholeness... But when I emerged from the small cave that had held their false idol, it felt just like the morning I clamored out of a strange bed to hear the phrase, "Herald of Andraste," for the first time. What a joke. Andraste? Who's she? Why are you all looking at me like that? I closed a rift, yes, it's rather routine now. But, it gave them hope. And a healthier purpose than waiting around for a wraith or lesser terror to tear them to shreds. At least, until I told them to spread word of the Inquisition. I feel like such a fool, but I didn't picture them actually leaving the safety of their fortress just to proselytize on my behalf! I fear the rift was a safer god. I've damned them to wander the Hinterlands and beyond. It disturbs me how easily the words flew from my lips, "I AM the Herald of Andraste." Now they sit like stones in my stomach. I am not the Herald of Andraste. Or the hero inquisitor. Or some dreamy horse-rider here to woo a farmer's daughter with tales of galant adventure. I am a child who kills people in the woods. And soon I will go to Val Royeaux and try to reason with the bloody, headless stump that's left of the Chantry. Gods give me everything. Wisdom, strength, maturity, mercy, just every damn thing. I'll need it.

[myelinlavellan]

meta 2 & disclaimers

My apologies for all the off-topic posts sneaking in from my primary blog. I’m still learning how not to be clumsy while switching between the two. Also, disclaimers, one of which I already added to my first post:

DISCLAIMER: Despite going to all this effort, I am not a huge, diligent Dragon Age fan. There’s a lot I’ll screw up. Somethings I haven’t seen (like the additional media or even content in games I didn’t find), somethings I haven’t seen yet (like not knowing anything about Myelin’s keeper, except for a quick glance to limit spoilers), and somethings I just forget (like actual Dalish religion and whether it’s acceptable to call all male adults men with human as a distinction). I apologize, but there’s only so much I can do to educate myself, especially for a project that’s meant to be taken lightly, by you and me both.

DISCLAIMER: Speaking of you, if you haven’t played Dragon Age: Inquisition yet, go! Now! This story will be told with no regard for people who aren’t DAI fans. That means it’s both full of spoilers and probably of no use to anyone who doesn’t already know about things like the Dalish or enjoy small references to Varric. Seriously, go buy this game now. This game diary will still be here, either after you play or alongside your own first playthrough. PURCHASE dragon age: inquisition now seriously it’s good

DISCLAIMER: I also added that direct link to demonstrate exactly where to go if you want to support this project. I, of course, own no rights to these characters. This is a fanwork. Please support the actually copyright holders by buying their excellent game or some DLC or trying out another title. You can shower me in compliments, though. If compelled.

[myelinlavellan]

An elf, a mage, and a child

When I woke in my cell, I was afraid those arachnid creatures were still right behind me. That fear was quickly replaced with another: Being caught by humans.

Every Dalish elf is warned about the cruelty of human men. The stories, I admit, are probably mirrored by those of human parents. A child strays too far to a city (or a forest, respectively), and foreign men prey upon them in ways that make wolves seem calm and mercantile.

The difference is, one needs only visit an alienage to prove all elven accusations against humans. The only question is how long you are able to stand the sight of it.

And so, I was an elf on my knees, chained, with four swords drawn upon me. It was the only thing that day I had expected to one day come to pass.

If it weren’t bad enough that I am an elf, I am also a mage. How many centuries have they been despised? How many have been slaughtered since Kirkwall? Gods, how many have I had to kill in the Hinterlands without a moment’s pause, without a single shared word on our shared ability? I’ve said enough for now.

And yet, they put me in charge. Minutes after letting me hold a staff again (Only after an attack by shades and wraiths), Cassandra asked me how best to mount an attack on the growing Breach. We cut through a mountain pass as the main body of troops created a diversion. My first command decision, and yet, I admit, I chose on a whim. Who am I to decide military matters? All I knew was that I did not belong beside the men-at-arms. For all I knew, I had chosen to die in a crevice on the mountainside while those common soldiers marched to a well-won victory.

After I calmed the Breach (with and as well as my enchanted hand), I collapsed for days. The apothecary, Adan, kept me clinging to life long enough to come to. Though, waking up to calls for the Herald of Andraste hardly felt like waking at all! Since, I have commanded more respect than anyone I have met.

Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet, chief diplomat of the Inquisition, insisted I come to her immediately if anyone treated me poorly for being an elf. The only person who has mentioned it was the tavernkeeper, Flissa, who tripped on her own tongue trying to be diplomatic about the matter! Poor girl. Tavernkeepers often need a quicker than tongue than all but the most poorly-positioned diplomats.

Likewise, someone here in Haven (I believe, of all people, it was a Chantry mother, Mother Giselle) told me in response to my magic that, “Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Your magic serves to fight the Breach.” A Chantry mother supporting my use of my gift. Common wisdom to the Dalish. Of course, humans seem to seize upon any opportunity to be ruled over with both hands and a strong bite… Or maybe it was Lady Josephine who said that. A true diplomat.

So, an elf and mage has found home in Haven and respect from the newly-forged Inquisition. And yet, I have one last secret seemingly unnoticed by so many who have treated me with honor: I still feel like such a child. When my keeper sent me to the Conclave, then I felt old. Apprenticing to become the most important person in my small world separated me from other children. I had to be focused, diligent, and at times grim. When the keeper sent me on my own, I had become an adult. That feeling lasted about a week. Facing the outside world made me feel like such an elf, such a mage, such a child…

Now imagine Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker, Right Hand of the Divine, founder of the Inquisition, asking you for a military command… My voice almost cracked!

For the past few days, I’ve been leading Cassandra, Varric, and Solas through the Hinterlands. Plenty of opportunities to distinguish myself in battle and in diplomacy. Many I have actually, successfully taken! Yet, at other times, I feel like a child once again turned loose on my keeper’s wagon. So many baubles and treasures and secrets! I can’t resist! Like a child again, I have been scrambling up rockfaces on momentary adventures. Gods, I giggled. Giggled with glee as I slid on my ass down a Hinterland boulder by accident, trying to reach a mystical shard of some unknown origin.

If only my keeper could see me now, she’d laugh so hard to see that glee again.

At least Varric seemed to enjoy it. He climbed right up and went for a tumble himself! Maybe he was just breaking the tension…

I wish I knew my companions and advisors better. My next few entries might be about them, as long as nothing terrible happens.

Speaking of… I ignored a rift. I can’t believe I am admitting this. I was, Gods, racing horses with the horsemaster’s daughter, Seanna. Her father had just called me a damn halla-rider. Fine enough man otherwise, but I had to prove myself. It just so happened to be to his farmhand daughter. And it just so happen the second race track brought me mere yards from a rift to the Fade, as in the one reason anyone would keep me around and not play knife-the-knifeear way back in that prison cell.

I went back immediately. Immediately. I took care of the situation, with my companions’ help. No one was hurt. Everything was fine. And I won the race.

I didn’t visit Seanna again for awhile.

[myelinlavellan]

The Sole Firsthand Account of the Breach at the Conclave

That is why you’re reading this, correct?

The Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, the sole survivor of the Conclave… When I regained consciousness, Right Hand of the Divine Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast herself bore down on me with as much intensity as any scrutiny I had ever felt or likely will ever face. And, at this point, I can only tell you what I told her: I do not know what caused the Breach. I do not know what happened. I do not know what will happen.

But I do remember one small moment In the utter desolation of the Temple of the Sacred Ashes. My left hand woke me up. Marked by the Breach, its twisted magic glowed and surged in the most extraordinary and painful way. I felt like my meager armor was all that kept me from crumbling like the temple around me.

I knew I had to get to higher ground, but just then two forces appeared before me, light and dark. A perfectly radiant woman glowed in the purest white in front of me. Behind me… Creatures of pure dread. It is impossible to describe them, in part because the very memory turns my guts to water. To me, they made spiders feel as small and safe as an old squirrel. These were devices of pure fear.

And so I ran for the woman. I needed to save her, so she could save me.

And then I woke up to Cassandra Pentaghast and no further answers.

I will not speculate on Andraste. In part, because I am a Dalish elf, and a keeper’s apprentice at that. We lived and worked in harmony with the Chantry for the betterment of Thedas before. Once.

But also because I am wracked with doubt. Ever since I left my clan, my world has grown faster and faster. For so many years, I have studied every word of Dalish history. Then I met people with histories just as rich and true. Now, I live history each day.

The Elven gods give me strength and they give me wisdom and they give me hope. But there is more to this world than all the keepers will ever know. And I will leave it at that.

[myelinlavellan]

After I learn how to take screenshots, I’ll probably put Myelin’s face up here as the icon. But the Lavellan apprentice origin tarot card is already a strikingly accurate depiction of him for the first couple hours of my playthrough.

BAROO?

[myelinlavellan]

The Keeper of the Inquisition

Much my life, I have trained to become a keeper of Clan Lavellan. As my magic manifested, days spent hunting and fishing turned into long nights of study and practice. I could see the my future before me: A clear path from the Dales to my own keeper, and to the keeper who would one day replace me. My role was clear.

But in a scant two months, everything I thought about my life has changed. Two months ago, I left my clan on a quest to provide whatever small Dalish voice at the Conclave I could, in whatever small way appeared. Two weeks ago, the Breach occurred. Everyone I met over the past two months are dead. My hand glows with strange magic. The Inquisition has been reborn. Skills honed by hunting deer and fishing are now used to hunt demons and rebels.

And yet, I am a keeper. Albeit of an altogether different history than I had expected.

Thank Varric. The thought of him being the only author with a view from the inside terrifies me.

[myelinlavellan]

meta 1

Welcome to the Personal Account of Myelin Lavellan, a Dragon Age: Inquisition game diary.

I’m a medium-to-large RPG fan, especially of Bioware’s work. While waiting for DAI to install, I stumbled upon www.reddit.com/r/dragonage. By checking out the top-rated-of-all-time posts for “DAO” and “DA2,” I discovered a really cool community who had added a lot of value to their games though personal investment and fun story-telling.

I’m surprised to find myself doing this. I rarely play videogames in any character other than myself, and I haven’t touched fan fiction in… Almost a decade? But someone mentioned that they did a game diary for one of their runs, and I was really taken by the idea. DAI is already an absurdly long game, I might as well make it even longer by letting it do exactly what I want it to do: Make me think & feel.

Besides, diary writing is good for you. i just want to write a diary with more spells and fire and adventure. (Though, I suppose I could make that work in real life…)

If this goes well, my purchase will get an added feature that speaks right to the core of why I play. I’ll also get some practice writing, and maybe some practice thinking & feeling.

If this goes poorly, I’ll have an embarrassing couple posts of DAI thoughts somewhere on the Internet. In all likelihood, an abortive and bland thing.

I think the only way this could go ugly is, if by spending so much time in my inquisitor’s head, I get a bit too obsessed. One of my favorite thoughts: You become the five people you are most exposed to. Fortunately, Myelin seems to be an alright guy. If I try to replay as a bastard warrior looking to bust heads and throw their weight around, well, I think that inquisitor might be less diligent about their diary.

Disclaimer: Though I’m writing a game diary, I’m only somewhat knowledgeable about the Dragon Age universe. Expect errors and non-canon misunderstandings throughout. This is for fun, please take it lightly.