“Cullen, where are you taking me?” Verana-Kathryn Trevelyan's steps were tentative, even with her lover's hands supporting her back. It had been sunset when they left Skyhold behind on horseback to what seemed a reclusive spot in the Frostback Mountains. It hadn't been a long ride, but Cullen had insisted on bringing the horses all the same. She didn't mind – even with the threat of Corypheus gone, there were still dangers around in the mountains that it was best to be wary of.
That hadn't prepared her for the blindfold, however, and while they hadn't walked for very long, they had moved steadily upwards. This confused the
Listen, now, to the song of the Mother
Dark as night, yet light as no other
Goddess of life and goddess of bone
The Maiden, the Mother and the Crone
Mother of crossroads and angelic hosts
Served by daemons and hell hounds and ghosts
Keeper of portals, magic's secrets and core
Teacher of witchcraft and necromantic lore
Goddess of the moon and the sacred fire
You who saved many a witch from the pyre
Mother of canines and bringer of wealth
Knower of poisons and diminishing health
Come to us now, upon this hour
Grant to us your wisdom and power
Bathe us in light, show us the dark
Awaken in us the magical spark
I come, my children, as you bid
His sword leaves his scabbard and onward he goes, for home and duty. The opposing army meets him and the others head on – he feels only slightly better about the fact that the enemy is Mulhorandi this time. They strike first, after all, unlike the others. He feels his senses tingling as the wizards cast their spells, but suppresses them, just as he does his compassion.
After all, kindness and sorcery are not allowed in a warrior from Thay.
A glass of wine in one hand and music playing in the back. He sings along because he knows well the lyrics. In fact, he loves to sing, dance, drink and partake in all of life's pleasures. How he enjoys living it to its fullest and share his joys with the world! And all these things must be of proper quality, of course.
Setting that last bard on fire for mutilating music was a public service, really.
He keeps trying to fit in with his fellow drow, but is more inclined to do the right thing. Take a life or save a life – he prefers the latter. Yet death follows him wherever he goes, no matter how hard he tries. Friends die time and again, and he's always alone. He can save a stranger, but never the ones close to him.
Doing the right thing always damns him in the end. Maybe he should try harder to be like other drow.
Nobody sees why an imp has a name as grand as he. The raven keeps pestering him, but he has plans for greatness. One day he will surpass his master, become a great devil and roast that damnable bird on his fires for as long as he pleases. They are all beneath him, mere mortals bound to die. Soon he will set his plan in motion.
Once he's done letting the moon priestess tickle his stomach. It feels so good to roll around in her lap.
He was the first in her life to stay, the raven that could talk. With a beak for lips do the fs and vs avoid him, but he manages to communicate nevertheless. Among ravens he's something special, a flying wonder, a magnificent bird. His perch is lofty, he looks down on the others. They are not special like him.
Special, just like every other raven familiar in the history of sorcery and wizards.
Felicia was pleased when, early that morning, the testing had revealed that the majority of Hekate's faithful were able to channel the goddess' power. The degree of power didn't show, for gods of all kinds were secretive in who they favoured most and preferred to reveal it in their own time. Even Aglaia was able to channel some, which surprised the princess. It seemed the goddess of crossroads had some plans for the girl, but more importantly than that, Aglaia had probably experienced some measure of spiritual growth. How she would put it to use, however, remained to be seen.
Orisons – minor spells that could barely be called such R
“Begin.” The command was spoken so simply and casually that, if it had been anyone else, it would have sounded like a farmer deciding on which seeds to plant or a young noblewoman picking out her dress for the next ball. Karsus was neither of these things, as Felicia knew all too well. In fact, when it involved her it usually had something to do with either an experiment or a combatant. Today it was the latter.
Karsus being Karsus, he'd monopolised Eileanar's gladiator arena for just this purpose, naturally. On one end stood Felicia, dressed in nothing but her priestess gown, holy symbol, sandals and expensive spell components an
The failure of Aglaia's return and the noticeable absence of the drow had Cleon conclude that the girl had changed her mind. It was a shame, but it was probably for the best that she died with the rest. Not that this told him what they should do with the drow and his dwarven companion, but he put such concerns aside as he descended the climb he'd made earlier. He and his brothers hadn't achieved as many victories on the battlefield as they had with muscle only.
He noticed the mule was as eager as him to get back to camp. The sun was low on the sky now. This far south the sun didn't really set or rise, it just popped up on the sky or sunk beh
“I absolutely forbid this!” What veneer of calm Syntyche had possessed earlier had completely vanished. She was flanked by two knights, both of whom had attended the meeting earlier. Everyone else had gathered in the main temple where Felicia had begun the testing, a minor, divine ritual that would reveal who Hekate trusted with directly channelling her power, as well as who among them possessed a talent for the Art. Behind her stood the statue of a tall, three-figured woman and before said monument burned many lit candles. Syntyche had come upon the congregation as they'd moved past her, catching only a few titbits of information
Cleon Karanok stared at the indifferent mule that he'd ridden up to his meeting place with Aglaia. Leave it to Theodosius to humiliate him so. The warrior-prince would get back at him for sure.
It had stopped raining, but the rock was still slippery and the grass had a distinctly fresh smell to it. The sun moved slowly across the sky, well past its zenith. It had to be near dinner time by now, something his stomach was happy to remind him of. He dug a hand into a saddle bag and picked out some stale brown bread and a yet unopened bottle of Chessentan wine that he'd smuggled out of the palace kitchen. Few were the culinary joys of military ex
Arjîn and the drow immediately got soaked, although he lifted her up and helped her through the magical doorway, seemingly with little regard to himself. He didn't follow, however, though Felicia soon did, soaking wet and a grim look on her face. They were both greeted with a large gathering of priestesses and priests – the third temple sported the most members by far – as well as the lightly armoured temple knights that served as protectors of the clerics. In fact, the third temple was the only one to have knights in its service. The lack of magic had caused a steady decline in members for the other two temples, but the high
The temple had turned out to be abandoned and while it had been covered in sand for who knew how long, the interior was still pretty much intact. Athrogate, naturally, had ceaselessly bragged about the craftsmanship, and although he'd found sturdy beds, the bedsheets had, of course, disintegrated. No food was in the pantry, though the bathing areas still worked, with water pumped in through an elaborate pipe system. Yet another thing for the dwarf to brag about. There were no towels, soaps, mattresses, pillows, blankets or duvets around, however, and so the drow ended up using even more of his magical repertoire.
Felicia found him at one poi
There once was a band both brazen and bold
Seeking the dangers but rarely the gold
Surviving on little but sheer, dumb luck
From beholders and goblins to just getting stuck
In mud, snow and sand, and the darkness below
From dried-up deserts to where mushrooms grow
They made their friends and went on their way
Parting with smiles, never to stay
Long is their road, still they move on
Even after the world is gone
From the Little Folk's home, a long time no see
The halfling named Thoven left to be free
From bad luck to good, he struck indeed gold
When the dwarf he met got his first idea sold
Runna the name, dwarf be the race
Endures the blows,