#andrastian

[chimericalpup]

Dragon Age: Origins/Awakening Scene feat. Templar Cullen Rutherford (Private Commission - 2015)

[coffeecacao]

If Elgar'nan really is the maker(which makes more and more sense to me with each playthrough), like fuck, imagine Solas waking up to not only elves who worship gods he knows were tyrants with slave markings on their faces to honor them but ALSO an entire RELIGION created to worship the bitch he fucking hates

[phoenixqueenwrites]

More than a Tidbit

This is not a new work, but rather a reflection to a piece I wrote back at the beginning of the year. For my dragon age followers, I'm throwing you a bone here. I am so sorry that I left you behind when my hyperfixation fled in may. I'm afraid that I don't classify my story as abandoned, just that I haven't had time to write it and also work on my Doctor Who works with my schedule. Today I'm taking a bit of time to look back at the 105,614 words I've written and published over the course of 2025, and this bit really stood out to me.

They made their camp at dusk within a thicker copse of trees in the shelter of a hill.  Enya’s heart went out to the dwarf, for though he seemed quite jovial after their dinner, he found every excuse not to rise from his seat in the dancing firelight.  She watched the deep regret when the beer he’d drunk caught up with him and he was forced to hobble bow-legged into the the dark.  She rummaged through her pack again in search of the wooden box of thick elvyradara salve and tossed it onto his bedroll.

Enya settled onto her own.  She planted her elbows on her knees, leaning her chin on her right hand as she watched the flames twist about the logs.  They burned quickly, unhindered by Solas’ magic and the heat chewed away the wood like a flood dredges soil from a riverbank.  She tossed another log in, just to be safe, loath to take the chance of losing the warmth.  A spray of sparks leapt into the air as the fresh wood landed in the coals with a muted thunk.  Cassandra glanced up from the shield clasped in her hands, her eyes following the little flecks of light upward.  The Inquisition's symbol was emblazoned on a tabard of thin leather which she’d draped across the face of the metal.   The pure white paint had been marred by the fighting in the days that followed the Conclave and worn by their travel. Enya’s eyes lingered upon it, searching for some meaning in the eye, but if this sigil bore clues for her, she lacked the knowledge to fully recognize them.  

"Do you know what it means?" Cassandra asked kindly.

Enya glanced up at her, surprised her gaze had been noticed.  She shook her head.

"You’ve probably guessed that we did not settle on this symbol on a whim," she explained, "The eye symbolizes our watchful presence.  It is surrounded by the sunrays of the Chantry, to show the Maker’s omnipotence and and to show our actions are his will," The warrior pressed her hand to the white paint, "It has long served the Seekers of Truth as a symbol of our faith, as it once was a symbol of the original Inquisition.”

Enya frowned, “That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?  Claiming your actions are your god’s will?”

The Seeker raised her eyebrows, “We act in accordance with the Chant of Light, the teachings of Andraste.  As she was his bride, it follows that her teachings dictate his will.”

“And that is enough for you?” she questioned, “It seems like it sets a dangerous precedent.  Who determines what interpretation of ‘The Maker’s Will’ is correct?”

Cassandra lowered her shield to the ground and fixed Enya in a stern stare, “The Maker’s will is interpreted by the Divine first and her Grand Clerics after.  That is why her loss is so devastating to Thedas, and why her murder is so destabilizing.”

The warrior’s expression darkened, and Enya bit back her remark about the prejudice of clerics like Roderick interpreting the will of the Maker.  The freshness of grief still hovered about Cassandra, even if the Seeker bore it well.

“And if they do something wrong?” Enya asked softly, “Who ensures that people don’t use the Maker’s will to justify their own self-interest?”

Cassandra’s eyes fell to the shield at her feet and she clasped her hands together, “I do.  Or rather that is the responsibility of the Seekers of Truth.”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the quiet tink of the glass phial in Varric’s hand, from which he withdrew a pale aster-yellow oil.  He used a small dropper to settle it into the joint’s of Bianca’s arms, and the clip into which the string of the crossbow slotted.  Enya drew a deep breath, held it for a moment and then set it free again, blowing the air through her lips.  She felt her shoulders soften, the muscle letting go of the knots left by two days of heavy ringmail pressing upon them and the side to side sway of the horses.  Her marked hand burned as it had the night before, a deep searing lance that crept up her arm. 

“Is that why you claim I am a prophet?”

The words slipped free, a question which she had not yet meant to bring to the light of day.  Cassandra’s eyes narrowed for a moment as she regarded Enya with unhidden suspicion.  Did the Seeker suspect she was laying out bait, trying to lure her into some hypocritical answer?

“It is not merely a claim, Herald.  I believe it.  Using it to gain favor across Thedas is the purview of Leliana and Josephine, but I dare say, they have faith that it is true just as much as I.”

Her brown eyes blazed with an internal fortitude that came from deeply cherished certainty.  At once, Enya was struck by the intensity of the Seeker's conviction.  At odds with her own as it was, distasteful as she found the notion of perpetuating this lie, she wished for a moment that she truly was this divine figure Cassandra envisioned.  But there were no gods moving the pieces, only the lingering whispers of their teachings passed generation to generation among her people.  Enya’s gaze fell, staring out toward the sliver of horizon she could just make out over the now distant mountains.

“I’ve never-” Cassandra began haltingly, “You have not openly denied these claims, not since we first put them to you.  Does that mean that you- Do you believe you are chosen?  That you are part of a greater plan?”

Enya pressed her lips together, neither a frown, nor a smile, but a simple focused expression as she returned her attention to the Seeker.  The humans, the dwarves, even many of the city elves were Andrastian.  Of course it would not occur with any immediacy to this woman, who’d spent her entire life within the structure of her society,  to question that she also saw the Maker as her creator.  

“The Dalish hold to our Gods, Cassandra,” Her hand drifted to her neck where, buried beneath the yellow scarf, her ironbark pendant hung on a tough leather cord, “Mythal, our mother goddess.  The protector.”

She explained as she held it out for the other warrior to see.  Cassandra’s brows furrowed.

“She is my patron, the god whose traits I most exemplified as I trained to be a hunter.  But there are others.  Andruil, to whom we pray before a hunt.  Sylaise, we thank for our homes and fires.  Ghilan’nain who tended the first halla…”

"And there is no room in your gods for one more?" the warrior shook her head as soon as the words left her tongue.

"I am sorry, herald.  Your faith is your own, as mine belongs to me.  You could just as easily ask me to accept your gods as my own, and it would leave the same feeling of falseness in me to try," she reached out to lift her shield from the ground at her feet, "I am not accustomed to meeting someone who has never known the Maker’s light.   Certainly those who have lost hope in him, but rarely one who never believed."

Enya turned back to the fire and stared into its depths, her fingers slowly rubbing the figure of Mythal, absently, "I understand.  The elves in Haven all believe in the Sh-" she stopped herself from finishing the word and corrected, "the human Maker.  Most only know the Creators when they curse."

“There are those within my faith who only know the Maker when they wish for his favor,” Cassandra nodded in understanding, and then her brow furrowed, "If the Inquisition is to act as a guide for the people of Thedas, we cannot be as those people.  Its leaders must overcome the things we have been taught to think of each other if we are, indeed, striving for peace."

Through the flickering flames, Enya saw Solas smile, though his eyes were already closed as he lay on his bedroll.  Had he only just woken to Cassandra’s impassioned tone, or had he merely been feigning peaceful slumber?  It mattered not, for the Seeker’s words struck a similar chord in her.  Relief.  No more words came but Enya found herself ruminating on what she had almost said.  A simple slip, habit really, but as easily as Cassandra had asked her to put aside her gods as though they were toys to be played with, she had nearly done the same in return.  Disrespect could come as fluidly as water flowing from the stream, and as limited as both were willing to admit their experiences were, there was a part of the elf that felt she had not adequately expressed that she faced the same challenge.  Letting go of her expectations of humanity would take longer than a simple conversation, but she could at least start with resolving to never let the word Shemlan make it to her lips again.

If you enjoyed this and wish to read more: The Destiny We Choose

Eventual, slow burn Solavellan (glacial slow-burn).

If you read this fic, playing the game is not required. Read it as a novel, its that comprehensive and assumes you know little about the world. You can pick up basically everything through context of my main character, Enya. She will ground you in this world.

Just saying. *wink*

[shiralvhenas]

A canon favourite of mine; Ithil Lavellan, a Dalish Elf who turned to the Chant to find solace after the near destruction of her clan, before being cast to the Conclave as a snide mockery of her shem religion. Her mark, her survival of the Temple of Sacred Ashes and the events that followed, further affirmed her belief in her path, however much it estranged her from all she knew. A little naive, polite and ever optimistic, despite her troubled past, she fell in love with the rugged Warden, forgiving him entirely when his true light was cast upon him.

[chantry-scholar]

An introduction to Chantry hierarchy, for the uninitiated, or else for our northern friends.  I believe there was also a guide intended for Rivaini ambassadors, which you may find useful.  

[non-toxicdragonageconfessions]

Songday Sunday: Away - the Cranberries for my favorite templars (Barris, Rylen, Cullen, and Cassandra - I’m including her even though she’s a Seeker). The lyrics fit a devout Andrastian in pain and conflict, and seeking peace.

Away - the Cranberries 

[expertherbalist]

dragon age history questions time - Maferath and Hessarian

Did Maferath really betray Andraste? Maybe, but also maybe not.

Wouldn’t put it past a man, I’ll tell you that much. The motive of wanting solitary rule over the territories loyal to them both seems plausible, as does jealousy of Andraste being revered and credited more than he was, or jealousy over Andraste’s “relationship” with the Maker. I can see Maferath’s shitty, self-absorbed “am I the asshole?” reddit post now, in my mind’s eye.

However, Tevinter and its Archon, Hessarian, had a lot to gain by Andraste’s followers believing it was Maferath who betrayed Andraste and so ending his rule over a very large and very unified territory of people hostile to Tevinter.

Maybe somebody else betrayed Andraste, or maybe Tevinter caught her without any betrayal. And then the “reformed” and newly “Andrastian” Hessarian very cleverly produced “proof” it was Maferath to influential followers of Andraste. It’s strange to me that I can’t find any codex entries of people asserting this in-game. “Maferath was innocent and evil scheming Tevinter is even more evil and scheming” seems like a pretty obvious and appealing conspiracy theory for many reasons, for many types of people. Not least of which, Dalish elves, who may not care much about Maferath (though I think he got along with and respected the Dales) but who sure as shit hate Tevinter.

Even if Maferath did betray Andraste, I still think Hessarian’s last-minute change of heart and religious awakening is scheming and lies. If it was Hessarian who offered Maferath the opportunity to betray Andraste, Hessarian did it knowing full well he was going to pull this fake conversion bullshit and take over the faith. Not just with his conversion and hand in writing the Chant, but also using this leverage he has on Maferath to either have him as a puppet or oust him from power by revealing it.

In this version of events, Maferath is still an impulsive betraying asshole but Hessarian is playing the classic imperial divide and conquer political chess many, many moves ahead.

I think way before they even captured Andraste and sentenced her to burn, Hessarian already knew he was going to convert to Andrastianism after her death, already intended to gallantly “mercy” kill Andraste as she burnt, and had plotted to take control of her followers using evidence of Maferath’s betrayal as the linchpin. It was all a set up because he saw himself gaining more than he lost in switching his empire’s official religion.

Let’s look at what Hessarian gains by doing all this:

- He gets to kill Andraste anyway, that being the first move in the plan. So he gets rid of the powerful, charismatic, and seemingly incorruptible leader dead-set against Tevinter.

- He then nevertheless gets the Andrastians off his back by being “merciful” toward her and refraining from further persecuting them, and then converting 10 years later. Not so coincidentally, backing off is a tried and true imperial tactic for deflating rebellions. Only the true and principled hardcore rebels keep attacking if the authority seems to be open to appeasement and turning a blind eye. Most only keep showing up to riots when the pressure against them is unrelenting.

- After converting and accusing Maferath of betrayal, he gets his enemy’s territory divided, dispirited, and weakened.

- He also gets a new faith for his empire, which is great as the Old Gods aren’t looking so good anymore now that the Magisters Sidereal failed to take the Golden City and the Blights have started.

- He gets to use this conversion process to disempower the old High Priests and other Old God clergy and their associated powerful families, which, though we don’t know, was a good political move for him. Often the central emperor has trouble with the “slightly less powerful” upper classes and personally benefits by weakening them. So he will do so even at the cost of weakening the empire overall.

- And he gets to control how the Andrastian Chant and other religious dogma is formed and how its history is recorded. The perfect opportunity to set it up as favoring a “new” Tevinter empire but somehow not free the slaves. This new consolidating Andrastian faith can no go about persecuting the heretics who are “doing Andrastianism wrong”, perhaps rounding up and killing any actually effective anti-Tevinter elements in the process.

Even if Hessarian really did start to believe in the Maker, much like Drakon of Orlais later on I think he was so incredibly immersed in an imperial culture of power-grabbing that you can expect most all of his contributions to the Chant and Chantry culture to have been just that - power grabs for himself and Tevinter.

One thing I don’t get is the lack of criticism or skepticism about Hessarian I’m finding looking through codex entries. Nothing from the Chantry sources, nothing from Chantry-critical sources (there’s too few of these), and just no skepticism about Hessarian in general. It’s not like southern Andrastians like the black divine (who came a few centuries later) or Tevinter in general so...? Somebody tell me if there is something I’m missing.

[valerie-royeaux]

Cadash Production Journal #6 - July 8th 2019

Progress continues, painfully slow, but also, I’m not dedicating nearly enough time to produce a comic at a good pace. Work work and summer work are picking up, so I often use the spare time to relax (aka video-games) a bit. But as usual, travel for work means not having the video-games around, so it’s drawing time. Specially when this trip involved flying and not driving. Flying time becomes drawing time!

But the nicest thing about this experience is that I’m feeling really positive about what I set myself to do: instead of drawings random illustrations, use that time and energy to build a narrative, to flesh out Junia, and in drawing her, commune with her. And as I share the tidbits that are being done, the reactions take me by surprise!

The way @savvylittleminx reacted to Page 1 sent me to the stars! I did plan to evoke a more... sensual atmosphere with that, but to see it strike true is such an amazing feeling! Not unlike her usual support, though - always constant, always there! You are a treasured friend, Minx! I hope you enjoy Page 2 the way you enjoyed Page 1!

Because yes, Page 2 AND Page 3 are ready!

Page 2 continues the sensual atmosphere of Page 1, but in Page 3 the story itself starts: a narration from Junia to Merrill, set up by their interaction in the previous two pages. More than that, in Page 3 I want to show the relationship Junia has with her faith, and her own nature as a dwarf under a religion that does not even mention them. I also leaned heavily on symbolism on this one. None of the panels are as they are for no reason.

But I guess, I slid into a more sensual narrative anyway? @cdhurricane found Page 3 to be even more sensual than the first two, despite not showing any nudity - again, the reactions to the work are so amazing, and get me by surprise! I fear my vices from when I learned to draw with 90s American Style comics may be creeping. But @cdhurricane says it’s just that Junia is sexy on her own - and it will show. I want to agree with her! =p

Off to start Page 4! Maybe I can get it done before the plane touches back in St. John’s? Here’s hoping!