Auma swallowed hard. She picked up the delicate object, both finely polished crystal lenses smashed. “Father Abbot’s glasses. Look, Martin.”
Blood rose in the Warriormouse’s eyes. Raging and roaring, he tried to tug free of Skipper and Auma, straining to climb over the battlements at his foe. “Touch one hair of their heads and I will slay you, scalescum! You and all your rabble, I will send you to Hellgates!”
Lask had never seen such ferocity in any creature. He realized that Romsca’s warning had not been an idle one: these Redwallers did indeed have warrior blood in their veins. [….]
Auma held Martin tight. He was still struggling, tears of helpless rage flowing openly down his cheeks, and she had to exert all her strength to hold him.
“Skipper let’s get him back down into the gatehouse,” she said. “We need to think this out calmly. Grab his footpaws, he has the power and wildness of a badger Lord. I’ve never seen Martin like this!”
- excerpt from the end of Chapter 18 of Pearls of Lutra
I’ve never fully gotten over the fact that Bloodwrath is an affliction. Bloodwrath isn’t something you want; it’s not dignified, nor is it intuitively helpful to the one who has it. Bloodwrath makes you forget who you are, where you are, and who your friends and allies are. Your energy becomes focused on one thing: the object of your rage. You become a danger to yourself and to those you mean to protect. Bloodwrath turns you into a beast of fury, one that champs at the bit, cursing and foaming at everything around you. Even your friends are taken aback by the change that comes over you. You become one worthy of fear.
Reacting to nobles talking shit about the wuizzy at halamshiral?
Cassandra: The first time she hears the Orlesians whispering behind their fans about the Inquisitor she is, just for a moment, no longer in Halamshiral. She is standing behind a curtain in Nevarra City, suddenly nine years old again and listening to the nobles talk about how she is too masculine and too blocky and how they don’t understand why Markus let the children of traitors live. And she wants to walk up to the Orlesians and shake them until their teeth rattle in their heads. Don’t they understand what is at stake? Don’t they see that the inquisitor is their only hope to stop Corypheus from destroying everything? She manages to restrain herself simply to glares and resolves to talk to Lelianna about the political advantages of challanging foppish lords to duels.
Solas: It would be a lie to say that he was not thrilled to be back amongst the denizens of court- for all that Halamshiral and its ‘nobles’ lacked even the shadow of Arlathan’s glory- and the moment he hears the quite (or not so quiet) whisperings he is so tempted to speak. A thousand years of practice amongst far more dangerous opponents than them has sharpened his tongue to a lethal lash, but he restrains himself. They would not receive such castigations well from a ‘rabbit’, and there are in Orlais with a greater purpose in mind. Still he takes delight in imagining the looks on their faces if he really did cut them off at the knees and resolves to speak with Josephine later on helping pen political replies to certain Orlesians.
Varric: He’s got a gaggle of admirers within moments of arriving, but even through their exciting murmurs he still hears the muttering. He is nowhere near as close to the Inquisitor as he was to Hawke, but he does remember how his friend was often greeted the same way in Hightown before becoming in champion. It annoys him- particularly if the Inquisitor is not human- and within moments he is spinning incredible stories of the Inquisitors prowess either in battle or in diplomatic affairs. Its hyperbole, of course, but halfway through the night the same nobles who were disdaining the Inquisitor are now shooting them anxious glances and the story teller considers his work well done.
Sera: One could argue that bringing Sera to Halamshiral is not the most politically savvy decision, but once she gets there the fireworks are more than worth it. Before the nobles who are smearing the Inquisitor have a chance to finish their conversation the Red Jenny is already plotting. Its not hard to recruit a few of the elven servants who are not bleeding out in the kitchen gardens, and halfway through the night a very select group of nobles have ben pranked or otherwise inconveinenced enough that their time for gossip has been traded in for private chances to scrub custard of off delicate masks.
Vivienne: Oh she lives for this. THe Grand Enchanter has been in Skyhold for too long, and there is nothing like verbal sparring to keep ones wits sharp. By the time she is finished the nobles in question are looking rather like they wish the floor would swallow them, and the rest of the masquerade’s guests are abuzz over how the inquisitor managed to tempt Madame de Fer to their cause. All in all a very pleasant evening.
Iron Bull: The temptation is there, just for a brief moment, to pick the nobles in question up by the back of the neks and shake them like a terrior with a rat. But that would be unsatisfying as well as unhelpful, so instead he turns Ben-Hassrath trained eyes onto them. Masks might hide facial expressions but body langauge is harder to conceal, and the champaign which flows like water is not hlping in the slightest. By the end of the evening he has a stack of reports to write up for Lelianna. And if- in the chaos of whatever ended up happening with Florianne- one of the worst offenders ended up being knocked into a table holding wine, well. The tide rises, the nobles fall.
Dorian: And to think he was starting to feel homesick. Dorian has heard most of his life- from Felix and from persons he met on his own travels- that there was no court more cunning than Orlais, but in truth he’s been to mid week soirees in Minrathous that were more dangerous than this. And that was before the blood magic. But when the gossip begins he finds his enjoyment abruptly severed. They are here for a noble purpose, and Andraste strike him down if he was going to allow them to jeopardize them. A glass of wine held in an idle grip- and a whispered conference with a certain Qunari that he is quite fond of- nets him the information he needs to be both invited into their inner circle and to have more than one of them paling behind their masks as the Tevinter pariah uses 'blood magic’ to divine their darkest secrets.
Blackwall: He used to crave this, and that alone is enough to make him ill. If he were not so afraid that someone here might recognie him as Thom Rainier- or worse may have known the real Gordon Blackwall- he would have played their game against them enough to have them speechless for a year. As it is he’s stuck on one of the balconies, trying to head off eager nobles who want to ask about the Hero of Ferelden and trying to think of the best way to accidently throw a noble or three into the ornamental lake.
Cole: “Whispers, rumors, fears hidden deep and covered with fake cheer. Make it foolish and it cant hurt you, say something to hide knowing nothing. But the mask is the lie and the lie is on their face, and not knowing makes the fear deeper.”
I finally got an animal side kick in our dungeons and dragons campaign! And it’s a shadow kitty! I wanted to draw my new friend but my first thought was @stutterhug‘s shadow cat drawings so shes heavily inspired by those.
Hey Sophii, hope you're having a great day :). I'm really sorry if you've already done something like this but I couldn't find one. I was just wondering whether you would want to write out a musketeer AU? Maybe with Leo as the newcomer to Jason, Percy and Frank's troop? I just really like to idea of all the sword fighting etc. Thank you and you are amazing x
well thank you so much! this is a super dope Idea, I love it~ what about a slightly modern musketeers au
each member of the Musketeers of the Guard gets a fleur-de-lis tattoo when they are accepted into the ranks
when the original Musketeers were disbanded in 1816, many of its former members saw fit to carry on with their noble work in the shadows and even though the order is relatively small (around 40 members of the order at any given time) it manages to maintain its importance to national security
they preserve the art of sword fighting, training recruits for years in secret catacombs and traveling the world to protect the monarchy of Olympus
Percy and Jason both trained at separate Musketeer academies during their formative years, ending up at the same finishing school in their late teens
while they clash often, they also seem to compliment each other well and always get the job done which is exactly what their superiors explain when they’re placed in the same company
Frank joins them a year later, a late recruit whose family line is traced to the first Musketeers
the three become fast friends, establishing a dynamic with Frank as the mediating force between Jason and Percy
they quickly gain notoriety for their efficiency and discretion, making them legends among rising recruits
Leo starts out at a Musketeer Academy as a child but is quickly pulled from combat training and into the forges, learning the dying trades of blacksmith and silversmith
he leads his fellow forge trainees into an era of innovation, creating new and improved forging techniques and ways to conceal the weapons of the Musketeers
Jason loses his sword Julius while on a mission and heads down to the forges to request a new one, which is when he meets Leo
the two go out together to test out a few different sword styles so that Jason can pick his favorite, when they’re ambushed by an unknown enemy
Leo proves an amazing ally and after surviving the scuffle, Jason convinces his superior to let Leo out of the forges and into the field (after he makes Jason a sword, of course)
Leo and Frank clash at first, but Jason pulls Leo aside and assures him that he doesn’t need to try and push Frank out to have a spot on the team
“You’re here because we want you here, okay?”
Leo apologizes to Frank who accepts graciously and soon the two become compatriots who have to deal with Percy and Jason’s constant bickering while trying to finish a mission