#battlesworn

[ourdawncomes]

“There’s no reason for us to be at odds,” she says, keeping her voice at a calm, steady level. Her hand never leaves the grip of her hammer, but down in Darktown that’s only natural. The grooves from the handle are practically worn into her gloves. “Your people and mine both want the same thing, don’t they? I know the Coterie don’t like new blood anymore than the Carta do.”

☀ @battlesworn | thief

[freedomscall-aa]

@battlesworn​ | simple starters

❝ Well, if you've come looking for aid I would say you've certainly found the place for it. What is it, the refugees say... ❛ Look for the lit lantern:  if you have need enough, Anders will be within ❜ ? They make sound as if I'm some OMNISCIENT judge-y thing, when I don't think I've even once turned anyone away for ❛  not having need enough ❜ . Whatever that means. ❞ A thankfully slow day, the mage a tad more talkative than usual when greeting new arrivals to his clinic. ❝ Sorry--- I DO take it you need something, though. No judgements here. ❞

[oftevinter]

@battlesworn​ asked:  "They tell me you're bad news, y'know. That I ought'a stay away."

‘ is that what they say about me? ’ he asks,  grin spreading across his lips as he leans back in the chair.  ‘ that you should avoid me at any cost?  that the vint is going to destroy anything good about you?  that his plans for the south only involve destruction and that it’s far better to simply... stay away from him?  ’ he scoffed.  ‘ it almost sounds like they need to be reminded what the most powerful man in thedas can do.’

[littlepalla]

     HAVEN WAS a new place for her to explore, though she was fearful without her mother nearby. The Inquisitor had summoned her for a mission away from the newfound sanctuary, leaving the girl in the care of a Chantry Sister. But Holly held no trust in said person, she preferred to find someone she felt that could protect and entertain her.  ❝  Ma told me to stay safe.  ❞  maybe he could do a better job.  ❝  Can I stay with you  ?  ❞  /  @battlesworn​

[rrguearch]

     MOMENTS PASS before she can register how long she has been silent for some time, something that barely ever happens. A tiny chuckle leaves her bewildered state, eyes carefully taking in the true nature &&. stature of the man.  ❝  You’re rather tall, aren’t you  ?  Not that I’m complaining at all.  ❞  /  @battlesworn​ &. ♥

[ode-of-odr-archive]

@battlesworn​ like for a starter

This was a frustrating situation to be in. One he wasn’t completely surprised to be in. Being called Herald of Andraste was an affront to his people, and it had been something he had been trying to dismiss since he heard the title, but his fight had proven fruitless. So of course a rival Hold was going to push their luck and the bastard leading the charge had the audacity to say he was the hand of their mountain father, Korth. He would see about that. 

Raserei knew he was Hakkon Blooded, the rage and power of that god flowed through him, beat in his heart. And Valor bond itself to him, a god who does not suffer such cowardly tactics. 

This Hand of Korth was about to realize he challenged the wrong Avvar, disrespected the wrong Hold. 

The location was not expected, too far into the lowlands, was his Hold moving? Or were they outliers? More importantly there was the undead and he wondered how the Avvar were handling that and he feared for his scouts safe return. 

Raserei was a staunch man by nature, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed the aspect of fighting the undead. Spirits who had possessed corpses. Usually spirits of despair and rage. It was harrowing more than it was frightening to him.

“You heard Harding, any of you willing to come with me? I don’t blame you for wanting to stay here, the trek will be dangerous, but I am going to get those men back.” 

[tethrist]

so you don’t consider yourself a good person?

      “Woah, that’s- kind of a dramatic conclusion, don’t you think?” Comes his reply, laced with a playful tone that doesn’t feel as genuine as it should. “You’re making this seem more SERIOUS than it is, Cheery.”

The question seems preposterous, yet Varric’s immediate reply isn’t ‘no’. This gives him pause. There are many things in this world that puzzle him: the fade, red lyrium, dwarves. His identity, however, has never been one of those things. For as long as he can remember, Varric has been keenly aware of who he is and what he’ll never be. Everything he does he remembers, be it good or bad. 

      “Look, all I’m saying is that good and evil are- well, they’re difficult words to use.” Even for a writer.

      “Okay, sure, sometimes you’re faced with something so AWFUL you can’t bring yourself to use any other word. Corypheus, for example: I’d say ‘scary, murderous darkspawn playing at god’ fits pretty well within my personal definition of ‘evil’.” He smiles. “Those are pretty rare, though. Almost every evil person I’ve met believed in something good, at some point. What are they? ‘Three quarters of evil’? Bah. And the same logic applies to so called good people. Even if they remain ‘good’ at their core, they’ll eventually fuck something up somewhere for someone.” 

Varric shrugs coolly, addressing this unexpected conversation with the charm of a man plagued by his mistakes.

      “I’m no exception. I was a prisoner when I came to Haven, if you didn’t know.” Crinkled eyes glint as a chuckle leaves the man’s lips. Those were strange times. If he and his brother were the reason red lyrium got into darkspawn hands, perhaps he’d deserved every second. “I like to think there are worst people than me, though.” And maybe that’s enough.

[sagittisdryadalis-archive-blog]

@battlesworn  ||  Discovered the ARCHER.

The youth was tired - the long hunt he had been upon to track down a bear of whom had harmed a number of his clan was drawing endlessly longer than he intended. Taking a small rest, the youth drew in a long breath and allowed his gaze to scan his surroundings. T’was only then he noted movement nearby and initially he thought it may have been that damned bear - but no  - the movement was wrong. “Who’s there?” He called, readying his bow.