Posts Tagged 'alistair'

Dragon Age Blogs Ahoy!

arrowtail:

So I’m being PRESSURED to make this post… 

but yeah, I need more Dragon Age blogs to follow. 

So please reblog if you post mostly/all Dragon Age, and in the tags write your favourite characters so I know what your blog’ll be like! Yay! 😀 

beammetothemoon:

Sten, I love you. Please don’t tear his arms off. 

beammetothemoon:

Alistair Theirin, Oghren-proofing Ferelden one cheese wheel at a time. 

@rannadylin Thank you for helping me come up with the theme of Oghren’s joke: Nugs (Unfortunately, I wasn’t clever enough to come up with the rest of it! Haha)! 

beammetothemoon:

Putting this under a read more because I’m an embarrassment.

Keep reading

cccrystalclear:

The boys

Yet another reminder that Alistair actually makes quite a good king if he ends up on the throne. Found this screenshot while going through shots from Lisbet Hawke’s playthrough (because I need to make a graphic header for the next Hawkquisition story! Ready to start posting it tonight!) and it made me smile…

suites:

for dragonage60min, prompt: scarves

falsesecuritysketches:

@meihua04 requested Alistair! 3/5 sketchy portraits.

…and I cannot draw him for the life of me… ;-;

“I may have accidentally sort of adopted five cats.” – Alistair and Merida?

katievogue:

“So just a warning Alistair… darling… I may have accidentally adopted five kittens while you were away.”

His hand stopped just short of the door handle. “Wait, what?”

“Anders and I found them just outside the Keep. Their mother had been attacked and we couldn’t just leave them there.” She said, a little apologetically. “So we brought them in and started taking care of them and… well…”

“Well?” Alistair raised his eyebrow. He suspected he already knew where this was going.

Merida brought her hands together. “And… well… they’re sort of taken over the room.” There it was. Alistiar sighed, and Merida’s hands shot up defensibly. “It’s just for a little while, just while they’re still so small!”

A suspicious look came over Alistair’s face. He remembered hearing a similar story about Brienne sleeping with them in the tent. ‘It will just be for a little while! Just while she gets used to you!’. Five years later and he was still waking up with mabari drool on his leg. “And what does Brienne think about having to share her space?”

“I think you might find Brienne to be their biggest champion.” She reached in front of him and opened the door to reveal the large, fearsome mabari warhound covered in five tiny sleeping kittens. Brienne looked up at them, as if daring them to disturb her new tiny charges.

Despite his reservations just a moment ago, he could feel his heart start to melt. They were so small, how much trouble could they be? “Have you named them yet?”

Her face brightened. “I was waiting for you.”

fatally-procrastinating:

Turns out, if you banished Alistair in Origins, he signed
back on as a Grey Warden—in Orlais. A
certain Warden-Commander certainly hadn’t planned on that. (788 words)


“Warden-Commander Brosca.”

Natia glared up from her reports, her thin patience cracking
at the sight of yet another scout who wanted more of her time. The twitch of
her eye eased when he awkwardly fumbled—his back bending slightly before he
simply fell to his knees before the table to be at her height. She’d
specifically made the table short for such matters. Humans too often forgot
that it was the dwarves who’d faced the bulk of the Darkspawn, dwarves who
constantly sacrificed themselves in the Deep Roads while those on the surface
complained about unsteady lyrium shipments. It was good to put them in their
place from time to time.

“What is it?” she asked, working to keep the snarl from her
tone. She’d been told on more than one occasion that terrifying those new to
the Order was a bad thing.

“There’s another Warden here to see you.”

“I assume you don’t mean yourself?” She put a hand on her
hip.

“I—no. That is, he wanted me to, uh—”

“He?” She demanded when he sputtered, his cheeks darkening
as he stared down at the map she was looming over. “I certainly hope you’re not
here to waste my time with the entire
Order resting on the brink of a civil war
.”

“No, Warden-Commander. Of course not!”

“Then spit out what you have to say and get back to your
duties!” She pounded a fist to the table and several of the markers tipped
over. “If I found out that you’ve nothing of importance to say then may the
Stone help you because—”

“Don’t strangle the boy, Nat.” Soft laughter echoed from
beyond the door that sent the hairs on the back of her neck on end. Steps
echoed closer and then he was there:
blond, tall, less puppy-eyed than before. The Warden relaxed against the
doorframe. His chin tilted up in a defiant gesture that highlighted the
wariness in his eyes. A deep scar cut across his right temple, over his eye,
and partway into his nose. When he grin, the scar seemed to almost twitch. “And
here I thought that I was the only
one you’d yell at today.”

“Alistair.”

He held up a hand. “It’s Warden-Commander Theirin, if you don’t
mind. It’s very official and intimidating, I know, but someone had to fill in
Clarel’s shoes after the Inquisition took so many of them in.”

“And you were
chosen?”

“Not initially, no. But the first choice was killed in the
final battle with Corpyheus and the second’s Calling ended up happening faster
than expected so the title fell to little old me. I guess getting kicked out
before the boss fight didn’t stop people from remembering that I was a veteran
of the fifth Blight.” He grinned again but the expression was tainted by anger
held tight in the corners of his eyes. “Funny, isn’t it?”

“Alistair, I—”

Warden-Commander
Theirin
,” he reminded her.

Natia sent the scout a glare that sent him scampering off.
With a deep breath, she eased around the table, her stomach twisting in knots
like they had during her first step into the open sky. She stared at him. There
were a few wrinkles in his face. A streak or two of silver in his hair. And
anger.

“I sent several letters after you,” she said. “You never
responded.”

“They must’ve arrived when I was fleeing for my life from Anora’s
guards. You remember Anora’s father, Loghain, don’t you? I know it must be difficult
for you to remember everyone who died under your orders, but since he slew the
Archdemon in your place, I figured there might be a special place for him in
that head of yours.” He made a clicking sound with his tongue, still grinning. “I
must say that I was impressed when I heard about that.”

She ground her teeth. “I did what I had to.”

“Yes.” Alistair’s mask dropped for a brief moment. Pain
mixed with his rage. Pain and loss and grief. “Yes, you always did.”

Natia took a step towards him. His head jerked up at the
motion and his expression smoothed out to a blank calm. “Well then, Warden-Commander Theirin, did you bring
information from Weisshaupt to share?”

“Quite the contrary.” He left the door and approached the
table, careful to keep as far away from her as possible. He picked up one of
the fallen markers and set it on Weisshaupt. “I came here to ask for your help
in tearing the rest of the Order out of the shadows.”


Blogger Gatherings!



Click the button for reports from the 2010 Spring Blogger Gathering, hosted by Linett of Nimrodel!

Berethron of Brandywine hosted the 2010 Summer Blogmoot.

The Winter Blogmoot was held on December 4, 9 p.m. EST at the home of Telwen of Silverlode.

Next up: The Spring Blogmoot of 2011 shall return to Nimrodel with Tuiliel (Whart, aka user-1027520) hosting! Linett is looking forward to another local moot!

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