#hevara

[incorrectbioware]

Dragon Age:Inquisition/Futurama

[attanos]

i’m completely in love with my orlesian warden so here are some Facts about her

Her name is Hevara Andras, born to merchant parents in Verchiel in 8:76 Blessed, making her 55 by awakening. 

She grows into a painfully pretty young woman and likes to use that to her advantage, running easy little cons on drunk soldiers in taverns to talk them out of their gold. It’s running said con on the wrong noble that ends up with a bar fight, a knife in the noble’s neck and guards quickly gunning for Hevara. But then a man who had spent the night alone at a table, nursing a single drink, steps up and declares himself a grey warden, recruiting Hevara on the spot.

Hevara struggles to take to the life of a grey warden at first. She’s proves excellent fighter and a quick learner, but she hates the discipline of it all. Over time, with the constantly pushing from the man who had recruited her, Senior Warden Emile Proulx, Hevara becomes a well-respected warden that quickly moves up the ranks.

Throughout the years, she and Emile found themselves in a fiery on-again, off-again relationship. The two would often butt heads and those who didn’t know them personally would swear they hated each other. 

Hevara is sent to Ferelden to act as second to Warden-Commander Maebh Cousland who, while the hero of Ferelden, is still a relatively new recruit. 

Her hair starts going grey relatively early, and is fully grey by the time she’s forty-seven, but she doesn’t mind, loves it really. And her hair truly is something she’s proud of. Thick, straight and falling to her hips. She keeps it up in intricate braids using small, precious gems.

She’s very vain, stubborn, would never admit when she’s wrong and is extremely proud of her Orlesian heritage.

She has always had a taste for the finer things, collecting beautiful silks, furs and gems for herself.

She’s a reaver, bloodthirsty and brutal on the battlefield, a fact that surprises many.

[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.