#alienages

[latebuthere]

Tree of the People or: The Vhenadahl of Val Royeaux

Dragon Age: The Masked Empire

...and technically other alienages

[captainskells]

Orlais - the Alienage of Val Royeaux

The Alienage of Val Royeaux is the most populated and dilapidated in Thedas, with over ten thousand elves living in an area roughly equivalent in size to the market in Denerim.

You were great, I was very pathetic. We were great.

[wolftraps]

Prompt if you're interested (no pressure) - I read an interesting article on the culture of mythology among street kids. What kind of myths and legends do you think City Elf street kids in alienages would pass among themselves?

Between this and the thing I wrote about urban legends sprouting from a female city elf origin in DAO, I feel like I’m going to end up being very well versed on Alienage Folklore. But anyway:

There’s going to be differences, obviously. I mean, every city and every region is going to have its own; especially with differing influences.

For instance, the kids in Orlais pull from the chant more. They have no problem believing the Maker has turned his back on them, if he ever cared for elves at all. If spirits are the first children, and humans are the second, then what are the elves? The closer you get to the Dales, and the longer it’s been since anyone’s seen an abomination, the more likely you are to find stories where demons aren’t necessarily the bad guys.

In Nevarra you get the stories about the undead. Every Alienage there has some kind of haunting, if you ask the kids. There you find stories of restless dead, raised and unable to return to death. Instead they live in the forgotten places, the homes the adults say are too dangerous to live in but too dangerous to tear down. Sometimes at night you can hear their wails. If you leave them gifts of flowers or meats, though, they will leave you be, and might not even eat your cat.

Before the circles were dissolved, Nevarra was the only place other than Rivain where having magic wasn’t a curse. Especially to the orphans, the idea that by having magic you had a right to a place where you would be fed and clothed and taught and being an elf would never put you below anyone else… it would be like finding out you’re secretly royalty. Even elves could be Grand Enchanter, after all.

Most places, it just meant that you’d be taken away, never to be seen or heard from again.

In Kirkwall it was a death sentence.

Since the circles rose up, no one really knows what it means now.

Some places get influence from former slaves, or from a history of slavery. Sometimes these are the most hopeful. Animals that have been around as long as any of the children remember become protectors. If you carry a broken chain link in your pocket, you’ll never be nabbed. Some places, though, have monsters hiding in certain alleys that eat stray children. Sometimes kids notice first that people go missing in the same places.

Some places get influence from former Dalish. Sleep with a dog and the Demon Wolf can’t get you in your dreams. (This stays common in Fereldan alienages long after any other Dalish influence has faded, to no one’s surprise and many a parent’s dismay.) Beings formed from the vague ideas of Mythal or Elgar’nan make their rounds regularly. Judgement and anger are not foreign to alienage children. The benevolence of these beings is often as fickle as the gods themselves were sometimes known to be.

In cities where a fair portion of elves work as servants for the wealthy, there are other beings. If you see them or hear them, you keep silent, say nothing, or they’ll come for you. In the tight spaces, where light can’t reach, you walk silently, lest the thing in the shadows hears you.

Whatever other stories they tell, though, each and every alienage has a story about the Vhenadahl. Sometimes a leaf from the highest branch brings luck. Sometimes a piece of the bark in a pocket can act as armor. Sometimes weeds at the base mean bad things are coming. A pact made below the branches is binding.

Often, the stories revolve around faces found in the bark. Vhenadahl means “tree of the People” they’re told. In some alienages, that means the souls of the dead live there. Every city elf that dies becomes part of the tree and it grows a little more. Here and there a child learns that “vhenan” means heart, and there the tales take root that the tree grew from the heart of the first elf that died there to protect the people. One heart can only feed a tree so long, though. Anytime someone finds a new face, it always looks like one person or another who disappeared; sacrificed, the kids say, to keep the tree healthy and the people protected. Sometimes they’re the faces of demons, trapped there so they can never harm anyone again.

Life is hard, and monsters lurk in many corners. But the Vhenadahl always means protection. As long as it lives, so will the alienage.

[abnormalmoth]

About the Elves in Dragon Age

They are rather obviously Jewish. I will not say that they do not have First Nation aspects as well, but they are very much Jewish.

The alienages are ghettos.

Dalish are pushed from every city they try to get close to, like the Jews have been pushed from everywhere we have gone to for centuries, especially in Europe where the story is functionally set, and hated everywhere.

Dragon Age Elves are Jewish.

Why does no one else say this?

[official-skyhold]

So I have this headcanon that elves in alienages have these close-knit and intricate extended families; meaning that Warden Tabris has this small army of cousins and second cousins and relatives that they’re not sure their exact relation to, but who they’ve been calling their cousin for their entire life. And some of those cousins probably have children who call Tabris “Aunt/Uncle,” which is very confusing for the love interest the first time they get invited to a family gathering.

Leliana thinks she can handle children, but she can’t. Tabris helps her by rounding up some of the littles and promising them story time, but even then Leliana’s more used to human children who have been conditioned to be on their best behavior in front of a Chantry sister, not rambunctious little elflings who are more interested in the gory details of battles than the Maker’s grace. Then the kids start demanding stories about Tathas, and Leliana’s like “wtf I don’t know who that is,” and Tabris is like “oh, um... elf folk hero who stole from the rich and gave to the poor, just make something up, I have to go now.” So Leliana starts making up a story, and about halfway through, one of the kids is like “I know this one already!” and proceeds to tell her how it ends, though it’s not the way Leliana intended.

Then Leliana’s like “hey want to hear about another elf hero?” and of course they do, but about five minutes in Tabris is like “wtf Leliana is that supposed to be me? That’s not how that happened!” and she’s like “shh it’s a better story this way.” The kids, of course, are loving it.

Alistair goes from “aw they’re so cute” to “help there’s so many” within about five minutes, and gets conscripted into their games. He gets be the dragon, or possibly the horse; it’s rather hard to tell and seems to switch back and forth. Mostly it involves a lot of carrying children around. Tabris loses track of him for a few hours, and eventually finds him lying on the floor groaning and is told “They should make that a warden training exercise. How are children so heavy...?”

Morrigan is surprisingly good with children, even before Kieran. The kids are frightened of her at first, and Tabris is like “haha sorry about that, they’re just shy around strangers,” but they turn their back for just a second, and the next time they see Morrigan she is absolutely surrounded by children.

Zevran is a bit more difficult to bring home, despite being an elf. Tabris warns him ahead of time “Okay, don’t say anything sex or murder,” and Zev’s like “so basically you don’t want me to talk at all?” Which is tricky when small elf children keep coming up to him like “why do you have a sword? elves don’t have swords.” Then when he tries to steal a private moment alone with Tabris, they are interrupted with cries of “ooo, they’re kissing! do you like him? is he your boyfriend? Are you going to get married?” (A male Tabris is especially embarrassed by all this.)

The next time Tabris visits home without Zevran, one of the aunts pulls them aside and is like “I’m not accusing your... friend of anything, but after he visited, suddenly all the children know how to pick locks” and Tabris is like “haha, kids, who knows where they pick up these things” but inwardly is like “dammit Zev.”

[omgsolas]

the circle sucks

mages and templars suck

but also

alienages suck

why doesnt anyone talk about them??? i hate that the main focus of the games is the mage/templar war and not much else

ALIENAGES

WHY DOESNT ANYONE CARE ABOUT THEM

WHY ARE THEY ACCEPTABLE AND SEEN AS “NORMAL” IN THEDAS

THIS IS NOT OKAY 

[sixpennies-blog]

Imagine the alienages in a modern-world setting. The slums are more built up than they used to be—big, ugly, concrete things with ratty telephone cables stringing them together, and their walls are no longer painted with clan imagery but instead miles of graffiti, of tags sprayed by kids long-jailed by city guard patrols all too willing to use their powers of arrest on ‘just some slum elf kids’. In gaps between the paint, fliers fight each other for space—some wear official stamps and demand curfew, order, obedience; others shout injustice!, and though rebellion rises often it is swiftly stamped out, crushed beneath the careless boots of the police and the biased tongue of the media.

Imagine the Vhenadahl, stooped with age and colourful with spray paint. No longer the centre of the community that it used to be, nevertheless it attracts elvhen teens and street kids if only because it’s the best place in the alienage to get good wifi. Cell phones, too, pick up a better signal, and perhaps the tree thrives a little more for still being a part of its fading heritage.

The schools are ragged things, funded by community fundraisers and what coin they can scrounge from an uncaring government. Every year, the number of pupils drops—more and more, elvhen children taken from their families by social services are sent to state-funded integration schools, where they will learn hospitality and service and jobs that will see them off of the streets (and away from their clans).

The names of their gods are spoken as habitual swears only, their true names and purpose long forgotten and replaced with internet and celebrity idols. However, it is still rare to see dogs on the streets—though most do not remember the old stories, a visit from even the Dread Wolf would be preferable to being abandoned by their gods entirely.

However, there is one thing that will not change. The indomitable spirit of the elvhen people, fierce and irrepressible, still burns beneath the surface—it is the rumble of malcontent in clubs and bars, the spat curses of youths angry without even knowing the reason why, the lines at the corners of eyes overworked and overtired. True freedom has been beaten out of them generation by generation, but some of them still remember the names. Shartan. Alidda. Wenna di Ladia. Lindiranae.

The word is revolution. And so long as the alienages stand, so will they.

[theshadowdreams-blog]

I bet that city elves usually pride themselves on having tidy houses. Sure they’re the poorest people in the city, but they’ll be damned if that stops them taking pride in what they do have.

Rugs, sheets, clothes and such are cleaned and mended as often as possible. If they have materials to spare, perhaps the whole family gets together and embroiders things. Just little touches to make things nicer.

There will be flowers if the family can get them. Weeds, the shems would call them with a scoff and an upturned nose, but an elf recognises the beauty of a plant that stubbornly blooms and dares to thrive in a world full of things that would deamean it, uproot it and destroy it.

The walls are painted like the Vhenadahl outside. More detailed, impressive work from elves with artistic skill, while the children and less artistically inclined are more prone to decorative scribbles - but that’s fine, it’s not the look that counts, it’s what it means. Community. Family. Home.