#open darp
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"I am forever covered in glitter."
#im drawing & using gel pens✌#indie rp#fantasy rp#darp#skyrim rp#bg3 rp#movie rp#fiction rp#[ open. ]
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The wind always blew cold, up in Skyhold’s ramparts. It tinged the tips of pointed ears with the first frosty kisses of winter, and yet, Li couldn’t feel it. The cold had settled in their heart a long time ago– or at least, it felt as though many years had passed.
The fur-lined cloak they now wore – almost with religious adherence – barely hid the shadow of the missing limb, but it kept what warmth there was still within. The cloak ruffled in the breeze, the fur soft and striking – kills from the hinterlands, but still it didn’t soothe the need for revenge.
If they must kill a god, then so be it.
They were so wrapped up in their observations of the lands over the hold (though golden eyes no longer saw as far as they used to, and that hadn’t been far before), Li almost didn’t hear the footsteps approaching upon the battlement.
“Have you found him?” They asked, not bothering to face their companion, a sneer forming upon their face as they said him. The one responsible for this mess, and the one whom Li had sworn to find– and to end.
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Ferelden, Northwest of Honnleath - 9:40 Dragon
{ Originally a closed starter for a blog that went on a hiatus before we got very far. It’s some of my best writing I feel, and I don’t want it to go to ‘waste’ so to speak. I’m going to repost it here as an open - the “Warden Reformation” or other verse/world state information can be found here (X). Opening can be slightly adjusted if a different world state is preferred.}
The mountain winds blew harshly, cold and biting. Elissa drew her woolen cloak’s hood more tightly around her face and pressed forward. The terrain was rocky, and as the sun dipped further down into the sky, old paths became all the more difficult to see.
Two mabari traveled with her - sired by her first faithful war hound, Hakkon. The old dog had been mournful and distraught when she left him behind in Denerim. His muzzle had more grey in it now than the tawny brindle he’d been born with, and extra folds of skin hung heavy around his tired brown eyes. She had knelt down to cradle his muzzle in her hands, kissing his head and pressing her cheek into his fur.
‘I know my friend, but I need you to stay here and guard my pups. They’re the most precious things in the world to me, and I can’t leave them in the care of just anyone…’
A soft whine at her left, and a slobbery lick on her hand brought her back to the present moment. Mather was the image of his sire in color, build, and temperament. His sister Haelia, walking further ahead on point, was more like their dam - a creamy blonde, petite for a mabari, but with a much more aggressively protective nature.
“S’alright boy,” she murmured, scritching him between the ears. “We’ll make camp soon, I promise.”
The responding bark, loud and enthusiastic, made her smile. A smattering of trees - the beginnings of a forest that clung to the feet of the Frostbacks - was visible ahead. Far enough in, and they would be shielded from the wind and most any distant eyes.
{ continued under the cut due to length }
The shadows loomed from every angle. They shifted and morphed into all manner of mannish and beastly shapes, only to flee back into the misty nothing they’d come from as soon as she turned her eyes to them. The eerie, soft, melodious singing pulled and grasped at her. It called to them. It called to her.
Calling, calling, calling...
She curled tightly in upon herself in a vain attempt to block it out. She felt the sounds and heard the feelings, and nothing was as it ought to be. The taste and smell of blighted corruption filled her mouth and nose, the taint invading every sense. Her mouth opened and every fiber of her soul wanted to scream, but no sound came forth. Her chest felt fit to explode and her lungs burned - desperate for breath that would not come. Sparks of color flashed behind the lids of her closed eyes, and the shakes of her body thrashed her about, desperation for air squeezing her tighter and tighter.
A moment longer, when she was but a hair’s breadth from slipping into the Void, the crushing shadow was ripped away, releasing her. A dragon’s roar drowned out the calling, blighted song in her mind - then nothing...
Nearly the whole of Elissa’s body was arched back in an elipse, bowed against the tree she’d set her bedroll against, her knees dug into the dirt. Her eyes were open wide, but clouded over with an impenetrable milky white.
Mather whined, yipped, and howled in distress, his massive legs and paws laid across the tops of her thighs. Haelia paced furiously back and forth in a semi-circle around her mistress and brother. Her hackles were up, and her barrel shaped chest heaved with her anxious panting. They had not traveled so closely with the Warden Commander before as their sire had, and were unaccustomed to the darkspawn taint-induced visions that would on occasion, seize her.
The advent of the Calling, true or false, had only served to make them worse of late, and much more frequent...
#darp#open starter#world state: warden reformation#or#world state: personal default#if you prefer#tw nightmares#tw night terrors#tw seizure#set before the conclave in inquisition#reposted because it was awesome and I liked it
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Open Starter !
(post-Trespasser)
Your character discovers someone is impersonating Fen’Harel and performing “miracles” in Jader, Orlais. They find themselves in a theater, ready to investigate, when an Orlesian man (wonder who that is?) offers to help.
Read the full start under the cut!
All over Thedas there have been reported sightings of Fen’harel. The Dread Wolf of Dalish legend. From the Anderfels to Ferelden, from Orlais to Nevarra. Whispers were loud and stories were varied.
He only travels at night, along the Imperial Highway.
He's stealing children.
He's freeing slaves.
He's breaking hearts.
He owes me fifty gold!
How was the Dread Wolf everywhere and all at once? The answer is simple: he wasn’t.
Yes, he had access to the eluvian network and that helped him get around quickly. But there were not enough eluvian to grant him access to every home, so he could steal every dog and burn every copy of the Chant of Light, as far too many people believed.
Solas recognized these rumors were getting out of hand and threatened to impede the actual work he was doing. He always went about his business quietly. Few were those who lived to recollect a verified encounter with him. The People Solas kept close to chest, those working with him, knew better than to lend their energy to idle gossip. And the “people” who deserved no mercy from Solas, slavers and other morally bankrupt individuals, knew better than to spread word about their interactions. Lest Solas find them and finish the job.
So very certain in his carefulness was he, Solas knew his own actions had not been the source of these rumors. This chatter sung the virtues of someone else entirely. One particular rumor, increasing in frequency and curious in content, perked Solas’ pointed ears.
Fen’harel cured me.
Of what? It varied. Heartache, blindness, paralysis, wasting, the Blight. The list went on and on and on. While the other rumors were symptomatic of liars and those afraid of monsters hiding under their beds, these rumors all held an unnerving weight to them. They were filling people with so much hope it was bringing them to the city Solas found himself in now.
Along the coast of the Waking Sea, above the dwarven empire of Orzammar. Jader was the Orlesian city closest to Ferelden. It held many things, like the large, historical Chantry Solas was in now and the highly contested claim to being the birthplace of Andraste, which Solas heard brandished as fact as he passed a clergyman. Not to mention the vast, secret underground theatre, just down the steps Solas walked on.
It had been a forgotten thaig. Now it was a sprawling theater, with staggered rows of plush red cotton seats and a large performing stage made with what appeared to be ironbark. Solas could barely make out dwarven carvings on the walls. Veilfire crackled around the stage, lighting up the center. A voice that was impossible to source called out--
“Places, places. The show is about to start!”
Solas took his seat. Earlier, he had to give a secret password and a ticket to gain entry, but it seemed to be open seating besides that. He wore an Orlesian dragon mask with blonde curls covering the rest of his head. He took a seat in the back, where he was sure he’d have the best view. Then he saw someone strikingly familiar sit down in front of him.
Solas could have ignored this person or dismissed their presence as the lack of light playing tricks on him. He did neither. Instead, he opted to push his heel into the back of their seat. “Désolé.” He spoke Orlesian easily, his natural accent faded into the role. “I thought you were someone else.”
He kept his foot where it was, on the back of the seat. “Have you heard about this Dread Wolf?” He asked. “Are you here to ask him to heal you?”
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It has been a life time since I was on here, I do wonder what to get into.
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Grim is a friendly dog. An incredibly friendly dog. Perhaps a bit too friendly, considering he's a mound of black hair and drool approximately the size of a pony.
Grim is, unfortunately, blissfully unaware of his size, as made evident when he bowls some poor sod over in his attempts to say hello. Him vigorously slobbering over them is probably just insulted added to injury, really.
"Grim, for Maker's sake!"
Madry Hawke is doing a very bad job of sounding disapproving. It sounds, instead, like they're half a breath away from laughing as they jog over. Nevertheless, Grim backs up half a pace and sits down, tongue still lolling from his mouth.
Madry peers down at the poor unfortunate soul Grim has tried to flatten. One eyebrow arches as they wonder, "Still alive down there?"
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"We have to quit meeting like this." She told them, roots moving around her and a few Sylvans in the back ready to help at a moment's need.
#whispers in the wind | open starter#darp#dragon age rp#dragon age origins rp#dragon age 2 rp#dragon age inquisition rp
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Sebastian Wakes Up a Non-Morning Person Reader
A/N: Here’s another fic! Still a female reader, just because that’s what I write best. This time reader is Ciel’s sister, age is up to you. Hope this turned out ok!
You shouldn’t be surprised at this point. Two years of Sebastian waking you up at the same time every day, and you were still annoyed every morning. It was never because of Sebastian himself, he was always so kind and gentle towards you, especially when waking you. You just weren’t a morning person.
You barely registered the soft knock on your door before it opened quietly, barely making a sound as Sebastian stepped into the room, wheeling a cart with today’s breakfast and morning tea. You stayed fast asleep, face down in bed. You were so relaxed and comfortable. Your comforter was darped just right over you, your pillows were the perfect temperature, and you were laying in a position that just felt to peaceful that you never wanted to move.
Sebastian pulled back the curtains across from your bed, letting the sun’s early rays cast themselves into the room. You shifted ever so slightly to hide your eyes from the light, burying further under your pillow.
Sebastian quietly moved beside you, saying a soft, “Mistress, are you awake?” When the butler received no recognition from you, Sebastian decided to give you an extra few moments of rest as he prepared your tea and set up your breakfast. Then he sat on the edge of your bed. Resting a warm hand between your shoulderblades, Sebastian rubbed your back gently to wake you as comfortingly as possible. “Miss Phantomhive, I am afraid it is time for you to wake up.”
You groaned softly, slowly pushing yourself up onto your shoulders. Your hair fell over your face as you looked around the room, seeing Sebastian beside you. You sighed, dropped your head, then pushed yourself up to sit on your heels. Flipping your hair out of your face, you sat there for a moment.
Sebastian rose from the side of your bed, smiling to himself about your behavior. This was a daily occurrence for him. “Today’s breakfast is (fav. breakfast), your favorite. I prepared it especially for you. I hope it is to your liking.” As he picked up the tray, you moved to sit properly on your bed, letting the tray be placed over your lap. You began to pick at your food as Sebastian searched your closet for an outfit for the day.
“Mey-Rin is ill today, so I will be dressing you, if you are comfortable, of course.” The butler turned to you, then draped a f/c dress over the end of your bed. You only nodded, taking a bite of your food.
After Sebastian dressed you, he led you over to your vanity to do your hair for you. You watched him through the mirror as he gently brushed through the tangled mess that was your hair, then setting the brush down and beginning to braid it. When he was finished, he offered his arm to you, standing beside you.
“May I escort you to the gardens, Miss Phantomhive? I believe it will be just what you need to fully wake you up.”
Speaking for the first time this morning, you groggily said, “Of course. Thank you,” as you took his arm. You hated mornings and everything that had to do with them, Luckily for you, Sebastian knew just how to make them even the smallest bit better.
#comfort#x reader#platonic#sebastian michaelis x reader platonic#sebastian michaelis fluff#sebastian michaelis comfort#sebastian michaelis#sebastian michaelis x reader comfort#sebastian x reader#black butler comfort#black butler fluff#black butler fanfiction#black butler x reader#black butler
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in war, victory.
in peace, vigilance.
in death, sacrifice.
An Indie RP Blog for Warden Amell, for Dragon Age fandom.
#darp#da rp#dragon age rp#indie dragon age rp#open dragon age rp#dragon age indie rp#dragon age open rp#indie darp#open darp#dragon age origins rp#dragon age 2 rp#dragon age inquisition rp
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Recruitment: Lir Cousland
Open to HoFs
Setting: Lothering
Muse: Lir Cousland, Companion OC
Background: Lir Cousland was with the troops at Ostagar, having gone ahead with his brother Fergus. They left their father, mother, and youngest sibling in Highever. Lir survived due to his men and luck, struggling and making his way to Lothering. (If the Hero of Ferelden is a Cousland, we can plot sibling relationship.)
The wounds he had suffered were superficial. Lir knew he was lucky he had not suffered worse, such as being infected with the Taint. But he had come to realize Loghain had sounded a retreat, instead of fighting with the king’s forces. He had crossed paths with other soldiers on the run who had witnessed it and told him. He hated to admit it to be true, but it was.
Lir made his way to the backwater town no one would care for or miss, save for its residents. It caused a pang of guilt to ring through him as he realized these people would lose everything.
“Leave me alone!” The voice drew Lir’s attention. He saw a refugee woman on the edge of town being accosted by others, perhaps bandits or people trying to take advantage of the situation. “It’s all I have of my husband!”
Lir’s jaw tightened as he heard the mocking laughs of the men and made his way over, drawing one of his swords.
“I suggest you leave her be,” he said in a cold, warning tone. His gaze flickered to a group, nodding to them. “If you desire to assist, I will not stop you. Yet if you seek to do the same as these brutes, I will not hesitate in handling you as I handle them.”
His wounds were of little concern now.
#indie darp#indie dragon age rp#open darp#open indie darp#Open: Lir#Character: Lir Cousland#Thread: Lir#Recruitment: Lir Cousland
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a thin voice whispered, “Wake up.”
[x]:[x].
#[ ooc. ]#[ bravado. ]#skyrim rp#darp#da rp#indie rp#independent rp#labyrinth rp#dark souls rp#dragon age rp#the elder scrolls rp#supernatural rp#lovecraft rp#open rp#bloodborne rp#reposting!!!
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In love, they said absence made the heart grow fonder. But in hatred? It only furthered the fervor. Out of Sight, Out of Mind was not an option, when the remembrance of wrongdoings was upon ones’ own body.
Injured or not, Li couldn’t stay behind stone walls for all eternity. Perhaps a more clever person would have retired from their adventures – but a more clever person wouldn’t have gotten into the whole mess to begin with – but Dalish blood kept them upon their feet.
The vast wilds of the Hinterlands sounded as best the place to search as the next, and so the party found themselves traversing countryside that was alive with the songs of wolves calling from hill to hill – but it was the wrong wolf, of course.
“–!” A strangled noise escaped their throat as they narrowly avoided eating the pathway, a stray boulder interrupting their search. They tried hard to hide the fact that they were shaken, pulling the fur-lined cloak closer about themselves as if the simple pelt could wash away the ache the mark still left. It could hide the physicality of it, but never quite wash it away.
“It’ll be sundown soon. Shall we rest?” They phrased it as if it was at the benefit of their companions… and not something aching bones and blood longed for.
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“It’s not even that large of a monster, I’ve fought bigger,” she gestured to the giant spider ahead of them.
#dragon age rp#open dragon age rp#darp rp#indie darp#open darp#indie dragon age rp#dragon age open rp#dragon age origins rp#dragon age 2 rp#dragon age inquisition rp#rp: rebekkah amell#hero of ferelden#hear me roar | open starter
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We have to make decision in the end.
To live or die, to give up, or keep going.
Did you think I got anywhere in my life by giving up?
Even when I was at my worst?
No. I beared my teeth and told them to the void with you!
An AU Warden Mage Amell rp blog.
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“I’m not sure what you expected but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a lowly mage.” She was used to the tone--because mages were seen in a pretty horrible light, it’s how the Chantry liked it and it annoyed Amell to death.
#darp#dragon age rp#indie dragon age rp#dragon age open rp#open darp#indie darp#open dragon age rp#dragon age indie rp
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"Oi!"
The voice comes, not from behind or to the side, but from above.
Rigel Hawke peers down from over the edge of the roof, hair askew and hood haphazardly slipping down the back of his head.
If it occurs to him that the situation is remotely odd, he says nothing about it.
"Pretty sure you dropped that." He lifts a hand, one finger pointing at the item in question.
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