"Maaras toh ebra-shok. You alone are basalit’an. This is what respect looks like bas. Some of you will never earn it."

Gabriel Hawke. Champion of Kirkwall. Suffers from occasional bouts of selfless heroism. Independent Hawke RP blog.

"Do I look like the leader of this merry band of misfits?" 

today is drparisa's birthday!

happy birthday quartermaster mine, here’s your hairy lumberjack husband with two mabari children

Cole, talking about Blackwall

*gross sobbing*

(via omgsolas)

❝ I do not have much on Warden Blackwall. We know he became Constable of the Grey in Val Chevin after Warden-Constable Fontaine assumed the position of Commander of the Grey from her predecessor. He also bears the Silverite Wings of Valor, an honor bestowed upon Orlesian Wardens for deeds of great daring. The details of the act for which Blackwall earned the Silverite Wings, however, are sketchy. Grey Wardens hide their secrets well. The medal was likely awarded for a campaign to secure Deep Roads entrances within Orlais, shortly after the Fifth Blight. Several Grey Wardens lost their lives on that campaign; perhaps more would be dead if not for Blackwall. ❞

                    — from codex entry “Blackwall”

+cloudgazercadash

allweareisapromise:

"Not at all. I was just deep in thought I suppose." The man stared at his construction and back to her. From a certain angle he supposed it did look like a horse. Still needed work. "Ha. It's a griffon actually. When we're not out in the field keeping my hands busy helps."

NO I HAVE NO LIFE.

I don’t think I’ll ever be over the look of complete and utter adoration and devotion on Blackwall’s face here. This is the look of a man who thinks his lady is the most amazing woman who ever lived. 

Her words made no sense. The screams became louder inside his head. Burning, death, bodies scattered around a field with blood turning the grass red. "Don’t you understand?" He reared up, eyes bright and voice soaked in self-loathing. He lunged at the bars, hands snapping around them to feel the cold prickle into his palms. He shook them, hands rattling.

"I gave the order to kill Lord Callier, his entourage, and I lied to my men about what they were doing!"  He didn’t deserve anything but the fate he had coming. "When it came to light I ran!" He lowered his head, stupid, stupid, bastard. He shook it and choked on a sigh. "Those men, my men, paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man!" 

He sunk to his knees, head bowed, mind made up. “This is what I am…a murderer, a traitor, a monster. Wouldn’t you have been happier knowing I was a noble man? A Grey Warden instead of this wretch.” 

          ♚ - His words caused her to roll her eyes. The hurt was gone from her gaze - all that was left was anger. “I am not daft. I realize the crimes you have caused. Would you rather be executed without attempting to atone for your actions? Leave with me today. Not as Blackwall, but as Thom Rainier. Wear your name with pride, so that when you help the Inquisition take down Corypheus, it is a sweetness to people’s lips, not poison.” She folded her arms across her chest, her gaze lessening ever so slightly.

            She leaned forward ever so slightly, lowering her voice. “I’d rather be hurt with the truth than coddled with a lie. Do not think of pulling such a stunt again. Now, are you going to leave with me willingly, or are you going to stay here and rot with your thoughts?”

Execution was a fate more deserving. He winced at the sound of his name, the name he wished he could bury deep. The ashes of his former life remained exhumed, bright and raw and powerful. No sweetness came from that name. Only poison, leaking from a rotted wound never to heal. He gazed up from the floor, meeting her hard stare.

He tried to imagine the real Blackwall, the man who had taken a nobody and inspired him to forge a better path. Rainier grasped the bars, pulling up from the gutter, from the dregs of degradation. "…If you believe that I am still of use, that I can make a difference…then I will follow you."

The man leaned away from the door. "But I ask that Blackwall remain my addressed name. More of a title, like Inquisitor. Something to aspire to be. A reminder."

Semi-selective Blackwall RP Blog. 

“ There’s always some dog out there. Some fucking mongrel that doesn’t know how to stay away. “

↣ allweareisapromise

     ❝ is anyone bothering you?      with… with what’s happened,      i mean. ❞ she recalls overhearing      dorian asking what to call him now,      and he seemed ( rightly ) distraught      about it. and she’s too forgiving.

"I…no. It's alright. I can't say it isn't justified."

The man folded his arms. Masking things was his greatest asset, wasn't it? The only thing he was good at.  Whatever they said he deserved it. 

He sat in shadows, head down, hands in his lap. Even in a cell he could not lock away the thoughts, the misdeeds that slipped through the bars and haunted his every breath. Her voice broke his lament, pulled him from reverie. He didn’t look up. He couldn’t — to be judged was one thing. To see the mistrust, the pain that he’d caused reflected in her eyes would be too much. He didn’t deserve to look upon her.

"I didn’t take Blackwall’s life. I traded his death." He couldn’t hide any longer. Carrying the burden, the weight of his lies any further would only cause greater anguish. To face himself, the monster, the murderer, this would be the first of many punishments he gladly accepted. “He wanted me for the Wardens. But there was an ambush. Darkspawn. He was killed. I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man.”

He saw the faces of his men, blood staining his fingers, dripping crimson and gold. Yells, screams, a family murdered for his greed. "But a good man…the one he was, wouldn’t have let another die in his place." 

          ♚ - Moaya glanced behind her at her companions. “Leave us. Go enjoy Val Royeaux. I will seek you out when it is time to leave.” Her companions complied, leaving Moaya alone with Blackwall.

               Her arms folded across her chest, she focused her attention back on the man in front of her. Something inside of her was screaming that he should be forgiven, that he was just doing what he thought was right, but her consciousness was stubborn, unable to whisk away the fact that he had lied to her. It was difficult for her to trust in the first place. To have it broken was something that did not come easily, but when it did it was even more difficult to gain it back. And yet… “It appears as if your memories are torture enough. You are invaluable to the Inquisition. Do not think that by allowing you to come back with me that you are forgiven for your wrongs. We will have to deal with you once the breach in the sky is not longer an issue.” The softest of sighs escaped her lips, her hand pressed to her forehead as she felt that familiar pang of pain piercing her skull.

Her words made no sense. The screams became louder inside his head. Burning, death, bodies scattered around a field with blood turning the grass red. "Don't you understand?" He reared up, eyes bright and voice soaked in self-loathing. He lunged at the bars, hands snapping around them to feel the cold prickle into his palms. He shook them, hands rattling.

"I gave the order to kill Lord Callier, his entourage, and I lied to my men about what they were doing!"  He didn't deserve anything but the fate he had coming. "When it came to light I ran!" He lowered his head, stupid, stupid, bastard. He shook it and choked on a sigh. "Those men, my men, paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man!" 

He sunk to his knees, head bowed, mind made up. "This is what I am…a murderer, a traitor, a monster. Wouldn't you have been happier knowing I was a noble man? A Grey Warden instead of this wretch."