thedasshole
no one expects the (dragon age) inquisition
dumping ground for all my oc drama. be warned: plenty of bisexual rogues ahead.
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TRAVEL TIMES IN THEDAS
i am a terrible perfectionist so i have spent all evening working out distances and travel times in thedas
(above map is super big & hd so click here to zoom)
one box = 35 miles
35 miles ON AVERAGE, in fair conditions/flat ground =
2 days walking
1 day on horseback
¾ day in a carriage
½ day by ship (or less)
reasoning & mathsy bits under the cut
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A guide to swearing in Thedas
These are all taken from the toolset (mostly under “cuss” in the soundsets, but also from various bits of dialogue), organized for your convenience.
These are Dragon Age: Origins ONLY. There are no files that are human-readable for DA:A, DA2, or any DLC or expansions.
Not English the King’s Tongue
Brasca! (Zevran)
Vashedan! (Sten)
Pretty normal
Alas!
Blast it all, anyhow!
Blasted bastards!
Blech. (Sandal)
Blood and ashes.
Blood and honor!
Bloody blast it!
Bollocks.
Cripes.
Crud!
Curse me for a fool!
Cursed for a fool!
Curses!
Confound it! (Flemeth, of all people)
Damnation!
Drat!
Fiddlesticks!
Blast and blazes!
Blast and damnation! (Morrigan)
Blasted curses of a thousand misfortunes!
Blood and damnation! (Leliana)
Burn it all!
Fire and death!
Dirt and spit!
Flaming bastard.
Garbage!
Lazy, slack-jawed louts.
Miserable wretch.
Of all the blasted–!
Of all the cursed–!
Of all the infernal–! (Riordan)
Of all the–! (Leliana)
Oh dear.
Oh, bother!
Oh, for pity’s sake!
Oh, poppycock.
Oh… blast it! (Alistair)
Phooey!
Shoddy piece of crap!
Sod it all!
Son of a bitch!
Son of an inbred!
Tarnation!
That’s a stinker! (fade!Cailan)
That’s swill!
Those bloody whoresons.
Thrice-cursed whorespawn.
Two-faced bastards.
Elves
Bleeding thorns!
By the lost Dales!
Fenharel’s teeth!
Mythal'enaste!
Slap me around and call me a wild sylvan! (Shianni)
Well punch me in the teeth and call me a wild sylvan…
Invocations of Andraste
By the Lady!
Andraste’s ashes!
Andraste’s breath!
For the love of Andraste!
For the love of Lady Andraste!
Lady’s breath!
Merciful Andraste!
Oh, Andraste, help me…
Oh, for Andraste’s sake.
Oh, for the love of Blessed Andraste!
Oh, for the love of the Maker’s Bride.
Well, throw me in a fire and call me Andraste!
Andraste’s clothing
Andraste’s holy knickers!
By Andraste’s burning under-drawers!
By Andraste’s dirty socks!
By Andraste’s holy knickers!
By Andraste’s sword!
Andraste’s ass
Andraste’s ass!
Andraste’s fat ass!
Andraste’s lily-white ass!
Maferath’s hairy arse!
(bonus Andraste’s husband’s ass due to not having another category in which to put it)
The Maker
Great Maker!
Holy Maker!
Maker damn you for a fool!
Maker-forsaken piece of–
Maker’s beard!
Maker’s Blood.
Maker’s breath! (by far the most common Thedas-specific curse)
Tears of the Maker!
Paragons
Aeducan’s beard!
Beards of the Paragons!
Bemot’s beard!
Blood of the Paragons!
By the beards of the Paragons!
Caridin’s teeth!
Ortan’s teeth!
Paragon’s teeth!
Paragons have mercy!
Ancestors
Ancestors have mercy!
By the hairs of my ancestors!
By the stones of the Ancestors!
By the teats of my ancestors!
By the tits of my ancestors!
Dwarf culture
Bronto piss!
By the Stone!
For the love of nugs and idiot children!
Nug-dung!
Nug-humper!
Nugs and dolts!
Stonecursed duster!
Stones!
What the nug!
The Blight
Ah, Blight!
Blight and destruction!
Blighted wretch!
Darkspawn blood!
Fire and Blight!
Griffon’s buttocks! (fade!Duncan)
The Fade
Blasted fade monkeys!
By the Black City!
By the walls of the golden city! (Desire demon)
Fade monkeys!
Racial epithets
Bare-skinned shem!
Filthy elf-lover!
Bloody elf guts!
Son of a Fereldan bitch! (Tevinter guard)
Pee and poop
Ah, piss and vinegar.
Crap!
Dog piss!
Flaming rat turds.
Oh, piss on it!
Piss and blood!
Piss and spittle!
Piss on a stick.
Piss on it!
Shit.
Shite.
Stinking road apples!
Turd!
Dogs
Base-born jackal.
Bloody kibble!
Flea-bitten whelps.
Hound’s arse!
Miserable cur!
Of all the motherless mongrels.
Scurvy dogs! (Isabela)
Food
Applesauce!
Beans and spuds!
Milk and cookies! (Perpetua)
Pickles! (Paivel)
Ugh! That’s bean-rot!
Fereldan culture and history
By the giant stones of the Dwarfson.
Great Dane’s bitch.
Calenhad’s crown! (fade!Maric)
Animals and insects
Dung beetles!
Flies and bother!
For the love of little fish.
Hind of a jackrabbit!
Hog wash!
Horse feathers! (Wynne)
Motherless son of a goat.
Oh, donkey bum!
Oh… f-frogs! (Daveth)
Oh… rats.
Ox dung!
Pigeon crap! (Shale)
Rats!
Rotten maggot-spawn!
Skunk breath! (Sloth)
Shave a horse and punch me in the teeth.
Spawn of motherless goat.
Sod-eating rodents!
Well, wax my head and call me a pug!
what is this i dont even
Dust bugger!
Oh, fuddle-knuckles.
Stab me with a fork and call me Susan! (Carroll)
Thunder humper! (Oghren)
Whiplash and Crow sauce!
You dung-brained goat herder.
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Friendly reminder that:
Qunari are empowering Saarebas with lyrium so that they can become stronger, open temporary Rifts, slow time down, and use mysterious spells, all through unknown means.
Tevinter is terribly weakened, corrupted, and will not last in the war against the Qunari.
Fen’Harel, now incredibly powerful, is planning to eliminate the corrupted parts of the Qun (good thing), but also to tear down the Veil (not that good, depending on the consequences). He will probably help the Tevinter slaves in rebelling against their masters too.
Titans are awakening. They are enormous beings living deep underground, whose blood has been consumed for millennia by mages and Templars alike, shaping the world as it is today. They also seem able to influence events above ground and they are very angry with the world or at least with the elves. They will probably re-establish their contact/link with the dwarves.
Something is happening in Weisshaupt, the Wardens have gone silent, and a new Blight is most likely coming.
The Evanuris are still locked away, but it’s obvious they will get free soon. They are a bunch of homicidal assholes who will not think twice about conquering Thedas again. They might be also tainted by the Blight, if the theories “Evanuris locked away with the Blight in the Black City” are true.
If Kieran was born, Flemeth/Mythal took the Old God’s soul from him, planning to do something with it. We still don’t know what it is, but it’s unlikely she will stay “dead”. She still has to have her revenge, her “reckoning which will shake the very heavens”.
Either Morrigan or the Inquisitor drank from the Well of Sorrows and the consequences of that act are still unclear, but whatever they are, they are going to suck or at least be mildly disturbing.
Mysterious Dalish elves live in the Tirashan. They are violent, cruel, and worship the Forgotten Ones.
Strange people from the Volca Sea are returning after a long absence, claiming a terrible calamity struck their lands.
We still don’t know what lies beyond the Amaranthine Ocean, but whatever it is, it makes people go insane and suicidal.
Basically Thedas right now:
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I dare say she’s taken a fancy to you. I’m a married man. And that would make all the difference?
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Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (2016) dir. Burr Steers
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i fucking hate dragon age
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apparently playing through demands of the qun like five times wasn’t enough for me
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“I’ll send for you when I can. We’ll go home. To Scotland.”
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ultimate dragon age meme: one villian
• DARKSPAWN •
The Chantry teaches us that it is the hubris of men which brought the darkspawn into our world. The mages had sought to usurp Heaven, but instead, they destroyed it. They were cast out, twisted and cursed by their own corruption. They returned as monsters, the first of the darkspawn. They became a blight upon the lands, unstoppable and relentless. The dwarven kingdoms were the first to fall. And from the deep roads, the darkspawn drove at us again and again, until finally we neared annihilation…
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She was the best of them. She cared for her people. She protected them.
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No one knows who first discovered magic, but it has been a part of the world of Thedas for as long as people can remember. From the elves of Arlathan to the mages of Tevinter, both humans and elves have been known to wield magic.
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but christine, fear can turn to love. you’ll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster, this… repulsive carcass who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty, secretly… secretly. oh, christine.
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DA Halloween
Day Four: Till Death Us Do Part
Half-Light
Varric gets caught up in some financial difficulties while at Skyhold and tries to sell a story of the Inquisitor and Cullen to the vampire-werewolf-love-triangle literary market. When Isolde finds Cassandra’s copy, all hell very quickly comes loose...
Turns out I probably should be doing coursework but I could not resist a cheap Twilight parody (sorry for breaking the no-sparkly-Cullen rule, @dahalloween ...)
“VARRIC!!”
Skyhold all but shook under Isolde’s fury. Tracking her dwarf companion down finally at a table in the Herald’s Rest, Isolde threw down the gauntlet - that was if the gauntlet was a freshly-published hardback novel.
“What - is - this?” Every face in the inn was turned to them, but Isolde only had eyes for her friend before her, who was cringing beneath the sheer anger in her glare.
“A mistake,” was the best reason Varric could come up with.
The Iron Bull and the Chargers, already sat at their usual spot in the inn, were first on the scene, settling Isolde into a chair and fetching her a rather hearty tankard of ale.
Dorian was next to arrive, having been with Isolde when she had found that - That… Nevermind. He had struggled to keep up with her in her furious stampede and arrived breathless at the Rest, albeit without a hair out of place.
Fee, Isolde’s supposed bodyguard, had spent the morning fast asleep in the back of a wagon. She had largely missed the commotion, slouching in as normal for her breakfast-lunch combo. She was taken aback to find her twin in a state, red-faced and white-knuckled, shooting death glares at sheepish Varric.
Cassandra was last to arrive. She was in no way out of breath, but her face paled to an eerie-white when she spotted the tome sitting on the table before her.
“Oh…” was all she had to say on the matter.
“Let me just-” Varric began, but he was interrupted by a curious Fee.
“What’s that?” she said, leaning down. Before Isolde could stop her, Fee had snatched the book up and was studying the cover. “Is that…?” she went to ask, a sly grin spreading over her face.
“Yes, that is me,” Isolde said, coolly, through gritted teeth.
Fee shrugged, dumped the book back down on the table.
“Doesn’t look much like you,” was her conclusion on the matter.
It looked enough like Isolde Trevelyan for the others to see the likeness. The book’s protagonist stood amid a forest, staring moodily outwards beneath a mass of red curls. On either side of her were two men, both topless, both caught as if in mid-fight with the poor protagonist caught between them. Both men did not look much different - blond, handsome, well-built - almost like…
“Does Cullen know about this?” the Iron Bull was next to pick up the book. He thumbed through it, almost lazily.
“... Not that I know of…” Varric said.
“Why?” Isolde asked, fury turning to disgust.
Varric visibly cringed.
“I was running low on funds,” he admitted, “and writer’s block was stopping me from writing anything good. My publisher reckoned if I targeted an existing market…”
“But why me and…?” Isolde glanced again at the book cover, “and Cullen Clone One and Cullen Clone Two.”
“They’re not clones!” All eyes turned to Cassandra, who blanched again under the sudden scrutiny. “They are twin brothers, separated at birth: Sullen von Lutherford and Mullen Mac Ruthhan.”
“Sullen and Mullen?!” Isolde all but roared.
“It says here Sullen’s a thousand year old vampire,” the Iron Bull pointed out, “but then Chapter Thirteen you have Ysolde celebrating Mullen’s twentieth birthday party.” It was his turn to fall under the scrutiny of the others. “What? I’m a fast reader.”
“Ysolde?!” Isolde roared again.
“I was in a rush!” Varric said, ignoring Isolde’s outburst. “I didn’t think the readers would be paying attention to little details like that…”
“I noticed,” Cassandra pointed out. “It ruined the fantasy of it all.” (“Noted,” said Varric; “Ysolde?!” screamed Isolde). “Also, Sullen’s powers. He reads minds, but not Ysolde’s. Only Ysolde’s?”
“Not much there to read,” Fee laughed, earning herself a sharp elbow in the ribs from her sister. “Ow.”
“Yeah,” Varric said, “it adds to her whole allure.” (“Am I not alluring enough?!”)
“Am I in it?” Fee wheezed.
“There’s a Bee,” Dorian said, peering over the Iron Bull’s shoulder as he flicked through. “Her drained corpse is found in Chapter Five.”
Isolde’s opinion of the book improved by the tiniest of fractions after that.
“And Mullen,” Cassandra continued, “he enjoys being a werewolf, but Ysolde would sooner turn into a vampire than a werewolf? A life of blood magic instead of getting to live a normal life raising pups with Mullen? What has Sullen got that Mullen hasn’t?”
“Cheekbones,” was Dorian’s take on the Sullen-Mullen debate. He looked again at the cover.
The Iron Bull snorted suddenly, quickly handing the book to Dorian, before dissolving into a fit of belly-laughs.
“He sparkles? Sullen sparkles?” he just about managed to spit out between laughs, clutching his sides. “What blood mage chooses to sparkle?!”
“What lycanthrope can change at any point in the moon cycle?” Dorian shook his head, wearily.
Cassandra knew the answer to that.
“Mullen was born with his powers, he was not bitten,” she retorted, hotly. “He uses his powers for good! I-” Her cheeks darkened then when she caught Varric smirking at her.
“Team Mullen?” he asked.
“Maybe…” Cassandra grumbled.
Dorian shook his head.
“Give me a sensitive blood-drinker any day over a dog. Team Sullen!”
“No teams!” Isolde stood up then, knocking her chair back in the process. She slammed her fist hard against the table. “There’s no Ysolde, no Mullen, no Sullen! There’s just me and Cullen and what we do is no one’s business but our own, understood?” She shot that last remark at Varric.
“Understood,” he said. “I’d offer to make things right by putting some of the proceeds towards castle renovations only, well…”
“What?”
“Turns out the market was full anyway. My publisher’s pulping what she can get a hold of. She’ll find a way to make up for the losses. I’m sticking to thriller from here on out.”
Cassandra groaned.
“But the ending!” she said. “Who does Ysolde pick?”
Varric shrugged.
“I never thought that far ahead,” he admitted.
It was then that one of the love interests (or, well, both of the love interests rolled into one) poked his head around the tavern door.
“Everything alright?” Cullen asked, looking over his flummoxed companions, all crowded around a table. “I heard shouting...”
Without a word, Isolde stood up and crossed the short distance to the door. She slipped her arms around his middle and buried her flushed face against his chest. Taken aback, but not willing to argue with a good thing, Cullen returned the hug. He missed the short, whispered “Team Cullen” remark.
“She must pick one of them,” Cassandra continued.
Varric snorted softly, watching Cullen and Isolde embrace by the door.
“She doesn’t pick either of them,” he said, finally. “She goes for the third brother, a regular human guy, Cullen.”
Cassandra pulled a face.
“Swords and Shields was better,” was her final conclusion, but not before threatening each person around the table to dare breathe a word of any of this. She left them then, returning back to the training yard, but not before she reclaimed her copy of Half-light from Dorian and the Iron Bull.
#dahalloween#cullen x inquisitor#till death do us part#day four#cullen x isolde#cullen rutherford x isolde trevelyan#dragon age#da#fanfic#cheap twilight dig#ignores the fact I was a massive twihard#It's halloween and I probably should write something that's legit scary
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day one - sneaky witch-thieves
The Wicked Aunt
Isolde takes on more than what she bargained for when she agrees to babysit Cullen’s young nephew for the day. Little Bran has got it into his head that Isolde is a witch, so Isolde decides to tell him the story of just how her hand came to glow green. Let’s just say that some stories are a wee bit too scary for a three year old.
I only just found @dahalloween today so trying my hardest to make up for lost time!
“You sure you’ll be alright?” Those were Cullen’s parting words as he turned at the doorway. Isolde smiled, nodded - she had this… or, well, she thought she did…
It turned out that caring for a three year old was a lot harder than Isolde had first thought. Little Bran Junior was somehow here, there, and everywhere all at once. Isolde soon regretted her decision to volunteer to babysit. She had offered to do so with only the best of intentions, hoping to prove herself a useful part of Cullen’s family. She had instead proved little, other than her inability to keep up with a toddler.
“Get back here, you little monster!” she exclaimed, and she was not exaggerating. Bran was all blonde curls and dimples, but with his father and aunts out at the market with his Uncle Cullen, he was proving to be a nuisance to this newcomer.
She cornered him just about, clambering up the bookcase in the living room, knocking books down as he did so. Isolde caught him easily around the middle, but not before the little brat knocked her on the head with a particularly thick book. One of Varric’s, presumably.
“I told you to get back here!” Isolde grunted, holding the struggling boy against herself. “You’d have hurt yourself.”
“I want Dada!” Bran screamed and wailed. “I want Uncle Cullen! I don’t want you!”
“I don’t want you too!” Isolde snapped - and she instantly regretted it. If he was going to parrot anything she said, it would be that. Plonking the toddler down onto a nearby chair, she took a deep breath and crouched to his level.
“I’m sorry,” she said, slowly. “Would you like a story?”
Bran folded his arms and pulled a face.
“I don’t want a story!” he snapped.
“A cake?”
“No cake!”
“A game?”
That caught Bran’s fleeting attention span. The little boy paused and thought on it.
“Yes, Auntie Izzy,” he said, all blonde curls, big eyes, and dimples again, “but not chess.” He pulled a face again. Isolde smiled at that; she too would happily miss yet another game of chess.
“What game should we play?” Isolde struggled to think of any. She tried to remember the games she played with her siblings before she was sent to the Circle, but she could only remember that one time Fee won hide-and-seek by hitching a ride out of Ostwick and disappearing for days. Hide-and-seek was off the menu then.
“Templars!” Bran exclaimed excitedly. He jumped up off of the chair. “Where’s my sword?”
Isolde struggled to hide her distaste at that: “Let’s play something else…”
Bran curled his lip, but Isolde was adamant. She held his glare easily; it was the toddler who broke first.
“Fine!” he said, eventually. “Let’s play…” But before he could come up with a suggestion, Isolde’s hand began to flare up.
Throughout her long vacation at Cullen’s family home in the Southreach, the Anchor had not bothered her once. Yet the moment she was left alone with a small child, the damned thing woke up again, sending out flares of green light and causing her to have an awful cramp in her wrist.
“Blasted thing!” she snapped, struggling to close her fingers over it. Months had passed since she had defeated Corypheus, yet she was not truly free of his actions. She looked up to find Bran watching her, his mouth agape.
“No, no, no…” she went to say, doing her best to hide her glowing hand behind her back. “That’s nothing! Don’t you worry about it…” But Bran was not worried. He was anything but.
“You can do magic?” he whispered, eyes wide, amazed. “Are you a witch?”
“No! I mean, yes. I mean I’m not a witch... I’m a mage, but that… that’s something else. Did you say you wanted cake before? I swear your aunt Rosalie had some fruitcake leftover…”
“Fruitcake’s gross.” Isolde could not fault his judgement there. “Let me see.”
Isolde kept her hand behind her back, feeling the energy pulsate beneath her clenched fist. All she had wanted to do was make a good impression on Cullen’s family, joining them in the run-up to Funalis. It was not as if things had got off to a good start.
Cullen’s family were polite and kind - but Isolde still felt left out. She wondered at first if it was down to her being the Inquisitor - running an international organisation and defeating Corypheus was a big deal - but, as time went on, she realised it was more down to her being a Marcher than anything. Cullen’s family were Ferelden to the core and there was only as much Mabari hair that Isolde could take.
Matters could not be helped if Bran started spouting out about Isolde practicing magic. Isolde being a mage had not raised any comment among Cullen’s relatives, at least in her earshot, but, from what Cullen had told her, the family had long ties with the Templar Order. She knew Cullen would understand, him having been with her throughout her journey first as Herald then the Inquisitor, but she could not trust his family to be so understanding.
“Bran,” Isolde said, before pausing. She did not have much experience with children - scratch that, she had no experience with children. She had no idea how to explain any of this to a small child, but, looking into Bran’s frank gaze, she realised that there was no way she could talk down to him.
So she sat down onto the chair and pulled him onto her lap. Her hand had stopped making a scene of itself and rested, quietly, by her side.
She explained to him first how she met his uncle, downplaying parts of the story where she thought necessary. How his uncle had helped her fight her way to the temple ruins to fight the Pride demon there and close the rift above it. She explained to him that her hand behaved like that when a rift was close… Bran’s eyes certainly widened at that! But she hastily explained that it also went off for other reasons. Reasons she was not so sure of herself.
She explained to him her time at Haven and then facing Corypheus and his dragon at Haven that wretched night. Bran listened attentively, his little nails digging into her arm, as she told him of her escape through the tunnels beneath the town and how his uncle had found her lost out in the snow.
Next, she told him about Skyhold, having to pause to answer Bran’s sudden pleas to visit. Of course he was welcome to come and stay, so long as his father had no problem with it… Isolde could only hope Branson was better than her at saying ‘no’ to a three year old. She may have had little experience beforehand in child-minding, but she had the sense to know that some stories of desk adventures were not suitable for little ears.
By the time she got to the part where she faced Corypheus in the final battle, Bran could not keep his eyes open, no matter how much he tried to. His eyelids drooped, his mouth opened into a yawn, and, before she knew it, he was fast asleep, his little head resting on her chest.
It was like that Cullen and his siblings found them, Bran still asleep on her lap. Branson thanked her profusely as he lifted his young son from her, while Cullen gave Isolde a hand back up to her feet.
“He wasn’t too much trouble then?” Cullen said, with a sly grin. He had been the one who had tried the hardest to talk her out of volunteering.
“Piece of cake,” Isolde retorted, folding her arms. “Didn’t think that I could do it?”
“I knew you could do it,” Cullen retorted, and he pulled her close to him. It was one of the rare alone moments that they could find in this crowded house of Rutherfords. “The toddler-whisperer,” he teased in a low voice, his breath tickling her lips as he leaned in to...
They were interrupted then by a Branson, arms folded, followed by a red-faced, tear-streaked young Bran.
“I had a nightmare,” he wailed, dragging his blanket behind him. “Cor- Cor-fee-us was coming with his dragon to eat me!”
All eyes in that room turned then to Isolde, who stood, flummoxed, under the combined weight of their appalled stares. Seems perhaps some stories did not make suitable bedtime stories for young children...
#dahalloween#dragon age#drabble#da drabble#cullen rutherford#cullen rutherford x inquisitor#cullen x inquisitor#cullen x trevelyan#cullen x isolde#cullen rutherford x isolde trevelyan#isolde#isolde trevelyan#writing
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