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hey yâall! iâm just a gal whoâs been in fandom for nigh on 20 years whoâs come back to tumblr after a bit of a break. iâm getting back to my creative roots of writing, RPing, and letting the blorbos run amok.
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Dasha Laidir, Lord of Fortune Rook | personality codex | backstory | quick start guide
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i canât believe itâs LoF weekend!!! thank you to our wonderful event hosts! and of course, many thanks to @handsignals for letting me borrow bashir for this piece! it was a joy to write the beginning of the beautiful friendship that is bash & dash đ
With little more to her (first) name than the clothes on her back, Dasha leaves Tevinter for unknown shores. An unexpected gift from the son of the admiral and the champion helps her keep the course fixed on the horizon.
This was not the first time she had felt the spray of the ocean, the cool water drying so quickly across her cheeks, her arms, that her skin pulled tight under the fine salt crystals left behind. She had been taken for trips on pleasure boats, had stood at the end of piers while waiting for a cargo ship to arrive, and had even gone wading along the rocky strips of shore that passed for beaches in the Minrathous harbor.
But she had not been a free woman, then. Chains of delicate spun gold wrapped around her neck, her wrists, her ankles, had marked her as owned as surely as heavy iron manacles.
No longer. Thoughts of her lifeâ what it had been, just some few short months agoâ were never far, but she decided it would be a shame to ruin the night by dwelling on the past. Her gaze was often drawn to the water, but this far away from the lights of Minrathous, the stars were brilliant against the black velvet of the night sky in a way that Dasha could not look away from.
Whether the big man was able to move that quietly, or Dasha was too deep into her musings and worries about the future, Bashir Hawke startled her so badly that she had to clutch her hands to the wooden railing to keep from hitting him.
(And that was something else she had never seen before, that instinct, that want to protect herself.)
He held up his hands, palms out and fingers spread, to show he wasn't armed. Well, that he didn't have a weapon, at least. The heavy muscles of his shoulders and arms weren't just for show, Dasha had seen him hauling crates and securing rigging with ease. He set himself down on one of those crates now, a goodly distance away from her, and waited for her to return his broad smile. She humored him with a nod, but didn't move away from the railing.
"I didn't mean to spook you, sorry for that. Ma says it's her fault, too much of that duelist in her to keep it to herself."
Even in the dark of the night, Dasha can see the freckles scattered over his face and bare arms, a mirror to all the stars above them. It was too dark to make out the color of his eyes, but she knew them to be a warm, golden brown, like honey drizzled into a cup of tea. His eyes were the first thing she had noticed about him, before the scars and the bulk and the height. Kind, in a way that she was still learning was possible in this world.
"It's⊠fine," she said, after what was probably too long of a pause. The several months Dasha had spent in the company of Shadow Dragons wasn't nearly long enough to get her comfortable with normal conversation. But Bashir had assured her, when helping her up the gangway and onto the ship that would take her to Rivain, that he had seen many a Tevinter captive find their voice. All it would take was time.
"Is it alright if I sit out here with you? I can let you have some privacy, if you need it." Privacy was another irritatingly novel concept that she knew so many took for granted. The anger, the resentment, was a nasty feeling, bubbling up hot from her chest and into her throat. Her mind seemed absolutely determined to make her night take a turn for the miserable.
"You can stay. I wasn't doing anything that needs privacy." Her hands had relaxed, at least, and Dasha rested on her elbows and set her gaze to watch the point where the ocean and the sky melted into the same color. She didn't know how far away they were, now, but it had been over a full day since the crew and passengers had seen land. "I wasn't really doing anything, actually."
"Would you like to be having a drink?" She doesn't need to turn around to know that he's grinning. His question was followed by the scrape of splintered, untreated wood scraping against itself, and the rattle of glass.
"There's actually something in there?" Dasha did turn around then, her curiosity always getting the better of her.
"Always better to be telling as much of the truth as possible. If we were stopped for inspection, it's better to have actual cargo to bribe and distract with." Bashir held up the wine, and in the darkness of the night, it looked black. "I don't have any glasses, but passing a bottle back and forth never hurt anyone."
"I really don't think that's true," Dasha responded, and she was grinning now, too. Rather than sinking into that resentment, she held on tightly to the bright joy of letting her thoughts and words out, rather than swallowing them down. Bashir, kindly, gave her a hearty laugh as though she were the wittiest person he had ever met.
"Well, there's only one way to find out, right?"
Dasha frowned, then. "But we don't have a corkscrew, do we?" She certainly didn't have one, and Bashir's armor left few places for him to be hiding one on his person. Her disappointment was written clearly in the way her eyebrows drew in close together.
"Your face is going to get stuck like that," he teased. "You think a Lord of Fortune doesn't know how to get at a cork? Just you watchâŠ"
She did watch, as Bashir began to work the cork into the bottle with his thumb. It was⊠a slow process. It was his own face that screwed up into a look, concentration and desperation playing over his features in equal measure. The moment was drawn out just too long, and Dasha couldn't help itâ she laughed.
"Are you sweating? It can't be that difficultâ" She was cut off by a low, musical pop! as the cork finally gave way. Bashir held the bottle aloft in triumph, and she laughed again, though this time it was with him, rather than at him.
"Voila, as the Orlesians say."
"Do they say that?" She had no way of knowing, really, but it certainly sounded right. "What does it mean?"
Bashir gave a shrug of his massive shoulders, and said, "I have no idea. Here, I'll let you have the first drink." She moved closer to him, slowly, and told herself it wasn't nerves but her lack of sea legs.
(There was no lack of sea legs, she had learned to walk the deck with the rise and fall of the ocean waves with a quickness that had surprised her.)
She sniffed at the open neck of the bottle, and couldn't decide if she liked the smell of it or not. "Is it any good?"
Another shrug. "I don't think the cork will improve the taste, but⊠it wasn't exactly top shelf to begin with. Cheap drink might as well be rations for the Lords, though, so it'll do."
Dasha finally took a drink, and it was⊠just as Bashir had described it. It wasn't the finest wine she ever hadâ even if she had only had scraps, the high table she had served had only allowed the finest, the most expensive, goods.
But this wine was shared with her freely, and that made it the sweetest thing Dasha had ever tasted.
They shared the bottle back and forth a few times, and she found herself enjoying the silence. There was nothing expected of her, not by this moment, not by Bashir. After the third sip, she held up her hand when he offered it back to her.
"No, that's enough. I don't want to tempt the winds into testing if my belly is sea worthy." He laughed at her words again, and perhaps she did have a bit of wit and humor about her after all. "What's it called?" Dasha ran her thumb over the label, tracing the lines and curls of the words.
"Uh, this one⊠let me see." Bashir reached into the crate to pull out another bottle, squinted at it in the darkness. "Some vineyard way down south... This one's called Laidir."
"Is that Orlesian, too?"
"Nah, not this time. Ferelden, I think." He paused, gave a roll of his shoulders. He was always in motion, Dasha had noticed, even when he was just thinking. "Might be something left over from the Alamari. Maybeâ strong? Intense? My da, he's from Ferelden. Maybe he can tell us for sure once we get home."
Home. Dasha was happy to blame the mist that came to her eyes at the thought of it on the wine. She traced the ink on the label again, though she couldn't match up the sound of the word to any of the strokes of ink.
"Laidir," she mused aloud. "I think it sounds pretty, don't you? "
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I didn't follow the prompts, but have some tattoos for your Rooks! Or you!
Similar to my series for Shadow Dragon Week, here's the first part of a little collection of my re-drawings of the LoF tattoos from Dragon Age: The Veilguard. I've edited some a little, or like the MerNug, separated out pieces when it was more fun.
Clear PNG files below if you want to use them in your art - you don't have to tag me, but I'd love to see if you do end up using them đ„°
i canât believe itâs LoF weekend!!! thank you to our wonderful event hosts! and of course, many thanks to @handsignals for letting me borrow bashir for this piece! it was a joy to write the beginning of the beautiful friendship that is bash & dash đ
With little more to her (first) name than the clothes on her back, Dasha leaves Tevinter for unknown shores. An unexpected gift from the son of the admiral and the champion helps her keep the course fixed on the horizon.
This was not the first time she had felt the spray of the ocean, the cool water drying so quickly across her cheeks, her arms, that her skin pulled tight under the fine salt crystals left behind. She had been taken for trips on pleasure boats, had stood at the end of piers while waiting for a cargo ship to arrive, and had even gone wading along the rocky strips of shore that passed for beaches in the Minrathous harbor.
But she had not been a free woman, then. Chains of delicate spun gold wrapped around her neck, her wrists, her ankles, had marked her as owned as surely as heavy iron manacles.
No longer. Thoughts of her lifeâ what it had been, just some few short months agoâ were never far, but she decided it would be a shame to ruin the night by dwelling on the past. Her gaze was often drawn to the water, but this far away from the lights of Minrathous, the stars were brilliant against the black velvet of the night sky in a way that Dasha could not look away from.
Whether the big man was able to move that quietly, or Dasha was too deep into her musings and worries about the future, Bashir Hawke startled her so badly that she had to clutch her hands to the wooden railing to keep from hitting him.
(And that was something else she had never seen before, that instinct, that want to protect herself.)
He held up his hands, palms out and fingers spread, to show he wasn't armed. Well, that he didn't have a weapon, at least. The heavy muscles of his shoulders and arms weren't just for show, Dasha had seen him hauling crates and securing rigging with ease. He set himself down on one of those crates now, a goodly distance away from her, and waited for her to return his broad smile. She humored him with a nod, but didn't move away from the railing.
"I didn't mean to spook you, sorry for that. Ma says it's her fault, too much of that duelist in her to keep it to herself."
Even in the dark of the night, Dasha can see the freckles scattered over his face and bare arms, a mirror to all the stars above them. It was too dark to make out the color of his eyes, but she knew them to be a warm, golden brown, like honey drizzled into a cup of tea. His eyes were the first thing she had noticed about him, before the scars and the bulk and the height. Kind, in a way that she was still learning was possible in this world.
"It's⊠fine," she said, after what was probably too long of a pause. The several months Dasha had spent in the company of Shadow Dragons wasn't nearly long enough to get her comfortable with normal conversation. But Bashir had assured her, when helping her up the gangway and onto the ship that would take her to Rivain, that he had seen many a Tevinter captive find their voice. All it would take was time.
"Is it alright if I sit out here with you? I can let you have some privacy, if you need it." Privacy was another irritatingly novel concept that she knew so many took for granted. The anger, the resentment, was a nasty feeling, bubbling up hot from her chest and into her throat. Her mind seemed absolutely determined to make her night take a turn for the miserable.
"You can stay. I wasn't doing anything that needs privacy." Her hands had relaxed, at least, and Dasha rested on her elbows and set her gaze to watch the point where the ocean and the sky melted into the same color. She didn't know how far away they were, now, but it had been over a full day since the crew and passengers had seen land. "I wasn't really doing anything, actually."
"Would you like to be having a drink?" She doesn't need to turn around to know that he's grinning. His question was followed by the scrape of splintered, untreated wood scraping against itself, and the rattle of glass.
"There's actually something in there?" Dasha did turn around then, her curiosity always getting the better of her.
"Always better to be telling as much of the truth as possible. If we were stopped for inspection, it's better to have actual cargo to bribe and distract with." Bashir held up the wine, and in the darkness of the night, it looked black. "I don't have any glasses, but passing a bottle back and forth never hurt anyone."
"I really don't think that's true," Dasha responded, and she was grinning now, too. Rather than sinking into that resentment, she held on tightly to the bright joy of letting her thoughts and words out, rather than swallowing them down. Bashir, kindly, gave her a hearty laugh as though she were the wittiest person he had ever met.
"Well, there's only one way to find out, right?"
Dasha frowned, then. "But we don't have a corkscrew, do we?" She certainly didn't have one, and Bashir's armor left few places for him to be hiding one on his person. Her disappointment was written clearly in the way her eyebrows drew in close together.
"Your face is going to get stuck like that," he teased. "You think a Lord of Fortune doesn't know how to get at a cork? Just you watchâŠ"
She did watch, as Bashir began to work the cork into the bottle with his thumb. It was⊠a slow process. It was his own face that screwed up into a look, concentration and desperation playing over his features in equal measure. The moment was drawn out just too long, and Dasha couldn't help itâ she laughed.
"Are you sweating? It can't be that difficultâ" She was cut off by a low, musical pop! as the cork finally gave way. Bashir held the bottle aloft in triumph, and she laughed again, though this time it was with him, rather than at him.
"Voila, as the Orlesians say."
"Do they say that?" She had no way of knowing, really, but it certainly sounded right. "What does it mean?"
Bashir gave a shrug of his massive shoulders, and said, "I have no idea. Here, I'll let you have the first drink." She moved closer to him, slowly, and told herself it wasn't nerves but her lack of sea legs.
(There was no lack of sea legs, she had learned to walk the deck with the rise and fall of the ocean waves with a quickness that had surprised her.)
She sniffed at the open neck of the bottle, and couldn't decide if she liked the smell of it or not. "Is it any good?"
Another shrug. "I don't think the cork will improve the taste, but⊠it wasn't exactly top shelf to begin with. Cheap drink might as well be rations for the Lords, though, so it'll do."
Dasha finally took a drink, and it was⊠just as Bashir had described it. It wasn't the finest wine she ever hadâ even if she had only had scraps, the high table she had served had only allowed the finest, the most expensive, goods.
But this wine was shared with her freely, and that made it the sweetest thing Dasha had ever tasted.
They shared the bottle back and forth a few times, and she found herself enjoying the silence. There was nothing expected of her, not by this moment, not by Bashir. After the third sip, she held up her hand when he offered it back to her.
"No, that's enough. I don't want to tempt the winds into testing if my belly is sea worthy." He laughed at her words again, and perhaps she did have a bit of wit and humor about her after all. "What's it called?" Dasha ran her thumb over the label, tracing the lines and curls of the words.
"Uh, this one⊠let me see." Bashir reached into the crate to pull out another bottle, squinted at it in the darkness. "Some vineyard way down south... This one's called Laidir."
"Is that Orlesian, too?"
"Nah, not this time. Ferelden, I think." He paused, gave a roll of his shoulders. He was always in motion, Dasha had noticed, even when he was just thinking. "Might be something left over from the Alamari. Maybeâ strong? Intense? My da, he's from Ferelden. Maybe he can tell us for sure once we get home."
Home. Dasha was happy to blame the mist that came to her eyes at the thought of it on the wine. She traced the ink on the label again, though she couldn't match up the sound of the word to any of the strokes of ink.
"Laidir," she mused aloud. "I think it sounds pretty, don't you? "
Open seas, open skies. She never wanted to be somewhere without them again.
ââ
After fleeing Tevinter on a ship with her father, the horizon over the sea is freedom to Sabi Laidir. She can frequently be found on the beach, staring out into the distanceâ sometimes waiting for her fatherâs ship to return, but often just to listen to the waves.
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So after some discord shenanigans I got the idea to do a lords weekend round robin piece. I posed the idea to @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai @mushrooms-x-moss @lemondelighted and @kabsey and thus this piece was born. We took each took turns writing no more than 500ish words each before passing it on. It will be posted in 3 parts over the weekend. We even included drink recipes at the end!
[Day 1] [Day 2] [Day 3]
4 lords of fortune gather to meet their out of town friend at the Hilt to show her how The Lords like to have fun. Hijinks ensue.Â
Around 2k words below the cut
DividerÂ
Davrinsleftpectoral
It had been a picture perfect day in Rivain. The sun had been out in full force and there was not a single cloud in the sky. Now the sun was sinking towards the horizon, the heat of the day at last beginning to dissipate.Â
Turvi was waiting at the bar of the the Hilt Bar and Grill and Bar. He had a large platter of breaded cheese wands in front of him and was waiting for the bartender to mix up a round of drinks.Â
"How many did you say you wanted?" Zalan asked.
"Five. The others should be here soon. Don't forget the salt on the rim!"
Zalan rolled his eyes. "I know how to make a Salty Dog."
"I know, I know. You always make the best drinks, Z."
"I told you not to call me that," Z mumbled.
Turvi continued on, nonplussed. "It's just that Ayla's only here for a short visit, and I want to make sure we show her the best the Hilt has to offer." Zalan nodded half-heartedly, setting the last drink on a tray.Â
"Thanks, Z," Turvi said, balancing the cheese wands in one hand and the drink tray in the other. He carefully made his way over to a table where Xiqaa and Dasha were waiting.
"About time," Xiqaa said. "Have you thought about working here for extra coin? You'd make an excellent serving wench."
"I would, wouldn't I?" He said, flexing his bicep as he lifted the drink tray up and down.Â
"Show off," Dasha laughed. "Put down the drinks already! I'm parched."
"Turvi-Fuckin'-Laidir!" Came a yell from across the Hilt.
Turvi spotted Ayla and waved. "Over here Shot Glass!" Ayla laughed raucously and jogged over to the table.
"Sorry, hope I'm not too late. My last match at the Hall of Valor ran long. There was one hurlock that just would not go down."
"Nah, the goblin queen arrives just when she means to," Dasha said, as she handed Ayla a drink.
It was at that moment that Ilene jumped down from the rafters, landing perfectly on Turvi's back, forcing the air out of him with an oof. "Exactly!" Ilene agreed with a self satisfied grin. "I didn't think my brother was ever going to be done with those drinks." She moved to hold out her hand to ask for a drink, and Turvi handed her one before she could say anything.
"Everyone make sure to eat some of the cheese wands before you drink too much, it'll help you last longer," Xi reminded them.
"That's what she said!" Laughed Dasha.
mushrooms-x-moss
"Don't have to tell me twice!" Ayla cackled, giving Dasha a high five and then a kiss. Ayla made the rounds, kissing each of her friends' cheeks in greeting before stuffing a cheese wand into her face so enthusiastically it made Xi raise their eyebrows.
"What?! Fighting makes me hungry!" she grumbled, already reaching for another. Everyone had a nice laugh at that, and Ayla smiled, sipping her drink while glancing around the table at all their cute little faces. Damn, it had been way too long since they'd all been together like this.
She took another sip of the fancy-ass cocktail Dasha had given her. "Andraste's tits, this is good. What the hell is it?" she asked.
"A Salty Dog," Turvi helpfully replied.
Ayla snickered. "Really? You're telling me that's not a nickname for hisgrumpy ass?" she teased, nodding her head towards Zalan at the bar.
Ilene let out a snort laugh that made her choke on her drink. "It is now."
Their table burst into laughter, drawing Zalan's attention, the bartender's eyes narrowing when he noticed them all staring. Ayla gave him a cheeky wave, wiggling her fingers and cackling when it just made him shake his head. "So what sort of trouble did y'all get into today?" she asked, turning back towards her friends.
"Just the right ammount," Dasha quipped, giving Ayla a sultry wink that made her laugh.
"Debatable." Ilene shot Dasha a glare while biting into the cheese wand Turvi wordlessly handed her over his shoulder.
Ayla snickered when Dasha lightly rolled her eyes in response. "I told you I could get us in there without the fireâand I did."
"Took fucking forever though," Xiqaa grumbled.
Ilene nodded. "And way less fun."
"Oooh! More ruins?" Ayla sat up excitedly in her seat. "What was it like? Did you find treasure? Monsters?! Ooo, no, waitâa dragon?? Come on, spill! Y'all know I live for this shit."
Xi laughed, making their incredible purple curls bounce around their face. "Oh, we found some treasure alright."
"Maker's breath,"Â Ayla snickered, turning to give Turvi a pointed look. "Don't tell me you got cursed again."
Turvi opened his mouth to stay something in reply, but was cut off, suddenly interrupting himself with an obnoxiously loud burp. Ayla began howling with laughter when a bunch of little pink bubbles flew out of him along with it.
He gave her a sheepish shrug. "âŠOnly a little."
"Sorry Turbs," Xiqaa said, clapping Turvi on the shoulder. "Just keep touching shit. You're bound to be cursed with something useful eventuallyâŠthough probably not as cool as me," they snickered, tenting their fingers as sparks flew between them.
Show off.
Ayla rolled her eyes. "Yeah? Reckon we don't need insane powers to still beat your ass at knarts, Lightning Fingers McGee."
"Prove it," Xi scoffed, standing from the table with a challenging grin.
Ayla pushed her chair aside to smirk up into Xi's face where it towered above her.
"You're on, sugar."
genjyoandgojyoandhakkai
âShots first,â Xiqaa proclaimed, ordering their signature layered drink. Zalan poured with practiced hands and a skeptical eye.
Drinks drunk, Ayla and Xiqaa took their places, daggers ready, elbows nudging. Dasha and Turvi moved to a table closer to the contest, Turvi squatting on the seat of his chair, drink tilted precariously. Dasha rescued it out of his hand.
âTen on Ayla,â Ilene declared, hopping onto the tabletop.
âBold,â Dasha grinned. âIâll take it. Loser buys a round.â
Zalan wandered over, collecting glasses with a sigh. âNo brawling if you lose, remember?â
âI never brawl,â Xi laughed. âReady, Ayla?â They rolled their shoulders; sparks crackled, a few snapping to Zalan, who looked annoyed.
âAlways, sugar,â Ayla said, drawing and tossing, fluid and careless.
âDamn,â Xi admired the knifeâs placement, then Ayla. âHot stuff.â
Ayla bowed, preening, shaking out her fingers like she was soothing a burn. âDonât I know it!â
âShot Glass!â Turvi whooped.
Xiâs eye twitched. âBeginnerâs luck.â
âBeginner?â Ayla laughed. âIâve been throwing knives since before you learned how to braid those fancy curls.â
Dasha raised her glass in a goodâluck toast; Xi plucked it from her fingers and finished it with a smile and a wink.
âBetter. Thanks, Dasha,â they said, steadying themself.
The knife thunked into the board, landing just shy of Aylaâs. Respectable.
âLooks like you canât back up the sizzle after all,â Ayla needled.
Second throw, Aylaâs knife found the ring outside the center.
âCall me when thereâs a challenge,â she bragged.
âCâmon, Xi!â Dasha and Turvi urged, rocking the table as Ilene balanced easily, laughing.
Xi stepped forward for their second throw. Their fingers glowed faintly. Ayla narrowed her eyes at them.
Their knife flew, biting into cork. Outside.
Round two: Ayla.
Biting a cheese wand then handing the other half to Turvi, Ayla squinted. Last throw; she was almost victorious.
Wiping her fingers, Ayla squared her stance and threw. The knife hit clean: inner ring again, outside center. The table erupted, Ilene jumping off her perch when Turvi yelled loud enough to rattle the rafters.
Xiâs jaw flexed. âCute.â
Poised for their final throw, sparks danced lazily between their fingers.
Ayla narrowed her eyes. âDonât even think about it.â
âNot thinking,â Xi said mischievously.
The knife left their hand. In the same instant, a bright flash detonated across the room, searing white. Everyone yelped, flinching; blinded, deafened by the thunder. Turvi flipped backward off his chair. Dasha cursed. Ilene clung to the table with miraculous tenacity.
In the chaos, unseen, Xi stabbed their dagger into the heart of the knart board.
The group recovered, blinking and complaining. Xi stood innocently, hands behind their back, whistling.
Ayla walked up to the board. She stared at her knife. Then Xiâs. Her gaze dropped: a second knife lay on the floor at Xiâs feet. Their actualthrow.
Ilene sprawled across the table, one hand supporting her head and the other held out to Dasha. "I'll take my gold and that round now, loser."
Dasha rolled her eyes but reluctantly fished a handful of coins out of her cleavage. "You aren't really going to make me buy a round, are you?" she whined with a pretty pout. "You always drink for free."
"True!" Ilene shouted. She leapt from their table to the next nearest one and then the next and the next, making glasses rock and scattering the pots of various card games while the players yelled and swore at her in protest. Her last leap took her to the bar top, and she hopped down behind to survey the array of bottles, one fingertip pressed to her lips in thought.
Zalan scowled at her. "Ilene," he warned in a threatening voice.
She waved her free hand at him while her sharp gaze continued to consider her options. A moment later, she was climbing the shelves and tucking bottle after bottle into the crook of her arm. Zalan watched her from beneath furrowed brows, one arm outstretched to catch her if she fell. His shoulders relaxed when her boots hit the floor again, and with a reluctant sigh, he set out five shot glasses.
For all that Ilene had seemingly chosen bottles at random, she poured very precise layers of each liquor into the glasses. When she was done, she hopped back onto the bar top and then swung her legs over to perch on the edge of the customers' side.
"Serving wench!" she hollered while beckoning to their table. Turvi obediently trotted over, grabbed the tray that Zalan had loaded with the glasses, and then turned his back to her. She let out an approving whoop before jumping on, and Turvi carried both drinks and drink maker back to the table. Ilene passed out the shots, and the others collected them with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
"Do I want to know what this is?" Xi asked.
"Definitely not," Dasha replied, but she downed her drink gamely. As she slammed her empty glass back on the table, her eyes flew wide. The sound of Ilene's cackle nearly drowned out Dasha's intense coughing fit while Turvi patted her on the back with a concerned look.
"Can't be worse than darkspawn blood!" Ayla announced cheerfully and downed her own drink.
Turvi and Xi exchanged a solemn toast of impending doom and then drained their glasses together while Ayla gagged and spat on the floor. Sparks of lightning and pink bubbles danced over the table as Ilene smacked her lips in satisfaction after downing her own shot.
"What do you call that?" Xi wheezed.
Ilene shurgged. "Dunno yet. I just made it."
"Demon Monkey," Dasha gasped, fanning her mouth with one hand.
"Drunk Koala," Turvi offered with another spray of pink bubbles.
"Titty Titty Bang Bang!" Ayla declared, and Ilene howled with laughter, pounding her fist on the table.
Come back tomorrow for part 2!
Thank you to @mushrooms-x-moss for making all the graphics! You are a graphic design wizard my friend. And thank you @blackwall-my-tiny-husband for letting us kidnap Zalan.Â
Special shoutout to the other silly gooses that helped write this piece. I had so much fun making it.
Thank you @lof-weekend for hosing such an amazing event!
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I bring you a Dragon Age Map with the OFFICIAL distances calculated in miles! Higher rez version here for the regular map and here for the map with extra large boxes to help with reading larger distances.
Details under cut.
So I had been on the hunt for a Thedas map that actually had any distances calculated on it for years. There's some fan maps, but none were official.
Well, imagine my shock when I opened my dragon age ttrpg book to find a map at the back that DOES include official distances!! If you have the book, check the back, it's glued in there.
I found no one had uploaded this map online, though. So I took a photo, lined it up as best as I could with a map I found online of the same style, and then pasted in the distance calculator in the corner. I then added a grid on top. I couldn't find a better way of doing it than 5 squares for every 70 miles, which means each square is about 14 miles. I thought that'd be easier to calculate than trying to break a 70 mile chunk down.
Then I realized by looking at the map that trying to calculate longer distances using that map will suck cause they're such tiny squares... so I added another grid on top to make it so the large grid is 70 miles. I included both versions of the map for anyone to use.
According to this map and some online calculators, Varric was wrong that it took Hawke 2 weeks to get to Kirkwall from Gwaren. it should have taken closer to 20 days. But eh, not too big an error and 2 weeks sounds neater. Plus, we know he's an unreliable narrator.
The funny thing is, it takes nearly (edit: MORE than) 2 weeks to get across Ferelden. On horseback. Warden was walking. Warden... how far did you walk... How many miles did you cover...
Anyone feel free to spice up the map however you'd like! I hope this is helpful for anyone out there!
