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a dragon age roleplay
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Four years strong, we are a literate to advanced Dragon Age roleplay that focuses on the events post-Trespasser, while also following the timelines of the Warden, Champion and Inquisitor.

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 breaking all the rules, sugar, 9:34 guardian
played by DIANA
EST    mature content? Yes    Offline
           
GWarrior
A38
Agrey wardens
P9 posts

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Boats were horrendous creations that merely existed in order to reaffirm to people such as Alistair that he would most likely make a horrible sailor. His sea legs were made of gelatin, they wavered with the roll of the sea and made his stomach move inversely with the sea. As his body rose up, his stomach dropped into his heels -- when it would drop, his stomach would fly into his head. For most of the trip he became best friends with wooden posts of the banisters, wrapping his arms securely around their center and letting his cheek press into its side. The salt water spraying into his face was almost refreshing alongside the breeze, though it made his face feel gritty and uncomfortable with the residue of it.

How humorous it must be, the Alistair Theirin swept off his feet by the rhythm of the sea. If the darkspawn could see him now, they'd truly be shivering in their... boot substitutes. Did darkspawn wear boots? In all of his years of fighting them, he couldn't exactly pinpoint a moment in which he'd found a boot-wearing darkspawn. But, on the other side of the coin, he couldn't remember a time in which he hadn't seen a boot wearing darkspawn. Were there shoe-making darkspawn, he wondered?

That train of thought made his head hurt after a point, so he opted to focusing on the roll of his stomach instead.

At the very moment that his feet landed on stable, steady ground Alistair was dedicated to two very important tasks: finding the best bar and setting his room up for a drunken collapse. The Hanged Man seemed to be the undisputed winner of the numerous opinions that he'd reached out for. It seemed fitting that the tavern would be in the supposed Lowtown, the area living up to the name in a way that most cities of Ferelden seemed to lack. He felt as though the boogyman could hypothetically be lurking behind every corner, enough filth lining the streets that maybe the sixth Blight happened without a Calling.

He sat himself next to a burly fellow that definitely didn't look as though the wrong choice of words would cause him into a punch-y fit. An ale was placed in front of him, and after a few moments of shallow consideration Alistair decided to break the ice with a pickaxe.

"Maker's breath, and I thought Denerim was bad," a chuckle followed by a long sip of his refreshingly cool ale. It tasted nothing like the mass amounts of salt mixed with the air and water of the sea. "I'm almost afraid that I'll get more than a pickpocket here." A handful of diseases, maybe. A knife in the side. "You come here often?" He had a feeling that a friend in this particularly dark part of town could prove to be beneficial. Perhaps it would even save his skin in the end.
played by sugar
mst    mature content? Yes    Offline
           
GMage
A39
A--
P49 posts

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Scrounging for coin was no longer something that was necessary in Garrett’s day to day activities. So perhaps, his presence in The Hanged Man should have dissipated over the years as well, after returning from the Deep Roads a rich man. But there was just something about the place he couldn’t shake. Having spent years in its presence before he could afford anything better, the swill there had a welcoming taste, despite how horrible it was, and any drink that was actually of substance made him dizzy and dulled his senses far too much. Garrett was equally loathed and appreciated at this point of his stint in Kirkwall that had turned permanent, and he decided it was better to always watch his back.

Someone slid next to him, and it would have been applicable to be wary of such—seeing as most of the people in the tavern were looking to start a fight. But the armor the man wore bode Garrett some dubiousness to his usual suspicion. He wouldn’t have recognized the crest if he hadn’t seen it before—nearly three years ago, the last time that he’d seen his sister before she’d been wrenched from his grasp by that very crest, never to return. Grey Warden. A small sliver of hope rose in his chest, and Garrett wondered for a moment if he would be able to ask questions about his sister—perhaps see how she was fitting in, if she was liking it, if she was…. happy. Why would she be? She had no choice in the matter of her life or death; it’d been a situation of circumstance, nothing more.

It would always haunt him at night, how things could have gone differently, better or worse. It didn’t matter that it was finished, because at the rate he toiled over those past events, his knuckles would start to show blood sooner or later.

The mention of Denerim brought some interest. ”Heh,” Garrett put his mouth to the edge of his mug and drank deeply before answering. ”I hardly remember it. Not sure if I blame this stuff or all of the Darkspawn that were far more annoying than any pickpocket.” A slight nod of affirmation, and then, ”I’m from Lothering myself. Nice little place. Quiet. At least… it was. After a while, even the creatures that lived there started to go crazy. I suppose it was only a matter of time before everyone in the town did as well.”

Another side glance at the armor, and then he decided not to question the fellow Fereldan on any potential relationship to his sister. Perhaps the answer would be a painful one, and he wasn’t in the mood to feel anything but the burn of alcohol at his throat and a warmth in his stomach tonight. Another swig was taken, a grimace, and a stifling of a burp. ”Just about every day I’m here, yeah. What, uh….” a vague gesture to the crest that made the bloke stick out like a sore thumb in the middle of a tavern filled with mostly tattered rags (and himself, he supposed), “…brings you to these parts? Please don’t tell me I’ve got to uproot again. Just as I was starting to get used to the smell…”
played by DIANA
EST    mature content? Yes    Offline
           
GWarrior
A38
Agrey wardens
P9 posts

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It had seemed that Alistair's lacking sense of luck wasn't always out to get him, considering that he wasn't immediately pushed an arms length away by the stranger. Instead he figured he could cautiously assume that he had made a friendly aquaintance of a sort. At least, the other fellow seemed friendly enough; Alistair simply leaped off the spacious room that had been allowed for assumptions. They hadn't reached 'take a punch for you in the middle of a bar brawl' stage yet, but Alistair liked to think that there was plenty of room to adjust to such a situation.

Perhaps with the aid of alcohol and adrenaline, shaken with just a pinch of a social buzz.

"The darkspawn added an air of authenticity." It was the polite way of saying that Denerim was, more bluntly put, something of a shithole. "I'm a Redcliffe man, myself. Mostly. It's about where you consider home to be, right?" So much of his life was spent moving from point A to B that he didn't feel as though he'd necessarily dub one singular place his home. Too many variables simmered in the pot for him to do much more than go with the impulse option of where he was raised. "I didn't get to see it in its worst stage, though. I'd already been with the Templars and then the Wardens before that."

A gesture that perhaps wasn't initially intended to cause Alistair an amount of self consciousness had made him frown in response. He did stick out like a sore thumb, red and bulging from the force of a hammer being brought down on its ugly head. "No, no. No uprooting. No more Blights, I'm afraid." The Wardens were all but glorified bodyguards at this point, clearing out the remains of the taint with their mops and brooms. "I'm actually planning on meeting someone tomorrow. I have some Warden-y things or other to discuss with someone. For tonight, though?" He'd reclined back in his stool somewhat, mostly for show. "Tonight I relax from one horrific boat trip. I hate those things." Buoyancy was lost on him, as were most of the contents of his stomach prior.
played by sugar
mst    mature content? Yes    Offline
           
GMage
A39
A--
P49 posts

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To be frank, the Warden seemed like an imbecile. Not necessarily in the sense that he was actually stupid, but he seemed to be… lacking in the general way of the world. What if Garrett had been a murderer? A thief? Something along those lines. This warden—whoever he was—had a mouth on him, and Garrett wondered how he had made it this far, intact. Sheer dumb luck, most likely. A small smile came to his features as he lifted the tumbler to his lips once more. So he was from Redcliffe. Strange—most people from there seemed to walk with a perpetually upturned nose, and Garrett didn’t get the impression at all from this one. He chose not to comment on his past, finding no personal connection with it whatsoever. Chantries and Templars… he’d rather stay away from all of that, and just knowing this man had once been a part of it, prior to being a warden, made him nervous. He wasn’t exactly wearing a sign about his magic, but still. One could never be too careful, especially with the rising tension from the Qunari still holed up by the docks.

”Good to hear. For me, anyway.” A small glance towards the warden. It would seem he was out of a job, if that was truly the case. It’d be nice to not have to worry about the Darkspawn’s impending existence thriving across Thedas—a warden likely knew more than Garrett on the matter. But it didn’t change what happened, the horrors of… everything. It’d changed all of them—Leandra, Beth, Carver. He got lost in his own thoughts for a moment, stewing with the possibilities of something better—something different. ”I don’t suppose that means my sister can resign from her duties if there’s nothing to do there any longer, huh?” The question had been dry with not much hope weighted behind it. No point. If he was truly here on Warden business—whatever that was supposed to mean—then he doubted their role to play in the world was over. Moreover, Bethany was stuck there.

Garrett’s eyes dragged to the drink near the warden. ”You know. I don’t think that’s going to help settle an upset stomach. I’m no healer, but….” Garrett waved the bartender over. ”Give us the whole bottle, would you? On me.”

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