1268 réponses à ce sujet

[Bugsie]

Makes me want to go back and get more screenshots in Haven. That's actually a pretty sweet shot fivethreeten. Very nice indeed.

[TheLastArchivist]

Where is that said?

 

Aren't you supposed to be dead? 

 

I remember striking the killing blow at you 10 years ago. Wait. Or was it Alistair? Ugh, I can't think with that song in my head...

[Archdemon_Urthemiel]

Everyone knows that nobody dies unless Bioware says so. I will never die unlike that punk Dumat. I have style. I am the god of beauty after all

[TheLastArchivist]

Everyone knows that nobody dies unless Bioware says so. I will never die unlike that punk Dumat. I have style. I am the god of beauty after all

 

wow

 

Dumat's been pwned by a fellow Archdemon? 

 

Now that's more like it.

 

[Rannah]

Yup, he did a great job of portraying Samson as a broken man. A person who once again fell down to the bottom after being an important figure of an organization. Samson did bad things and it's implied that he knew it and felt some guilt.

 

And this is why some find his character more interesting than a common serial killer or mass murderer. Unless Erimond, who was absolutely proud of what he did with the wardens.

[TheLastArchivist]

Samson Fanfic

 

(I'm not the author. Just reposting from Tumblr)

 

 

Bath time. The Inquisitor is a voyeur!

 

 

Bathing. A common courtesy, a luxury, a downright divine experience. It was quite comical to him really to be treated to such wealth in the hands of the enemy, or was it his saviors? He couldn’t be quite sure anymore. He’d take it regardless if only to get the stench of death out of his nostrils.

His clothes had been dropped piece by piece into a grotty pile in the corner of the darkened wash room and he stood hypnotized, watching the steam rise from the iron tub that stood proudly yet modestly in front of him. 

 

Spoiler

Water lapped at his muscles as he climbed slowly into the welcoming warmth. A little curse played over his tongue and left his lips as he finally seated himself into the scolding water. He needed to cleanse himself no matter how embarrassed he’d feel to admit that to anyone. He needed to wash months of dirt and death and anger and blasted pain away. They’d probably have his head for thinking that, thinking that he could remove what he’d done with a bit of water and a smidge of soap but beggars can’t be choosers, not when your days are numbered.
He became suddenly aware of the door to the wash room opening slightly and the sound of something, someone, easing themselves up to sit on top of the cabinet that stood by the doorway.

”The Inquisition not fond of privacy then eh?" he called out without even as much as turning his head. This was his time, they were intruding and it wasn’t really like him to have friendly visitors.
"I wanted to talk to you," came a voice from the soul sitting behind him.
Ah. He made a soft hum in his throat, oh he knew that voice.
"And what can I do for you, Herald of Andraste?" he boldly sang out.
"Don’t," came the voice again. 
"Oh I’m sorry, Inquisitah, forgive my common tongue.” he smirked. He had very little fight in him now, after the battle and after everything but he was a stubborn petty bastard who couldn’t help one last push, one last dig. “So indulge me,” he began as he continued to wash down his skin, “what services can I offer today?”

There was a pause, a silence, one that hung heavy in the room and felt cold and abrasive. He could wait all day, until his skin tuned to prunes and he washed himself into oblivion. Then came a noise, a sudden noise, a sound of feet hitting the dusty floor and a shuffle towards the door. A sound of a changed heart and a retreat. He sighed into the steam that licked at his face. He was also a daft bastard who needed a kick up the arse from time to time.

"Elijah…" he started whilst dipping his head, hoping the pathetic excuse of an olive branch would keep her from fleeing the scene, "what do you need of me?"
"Need?" she snorted whilst halting at the door, "I figured I could catch you whilst you were on your own, when you were away from the prying eyes that you love to put a show on for. But it seems like you’re a colossal ****** no matter the audience so my time is wasted here." She was the one playing games now it seemed, almost goading him. "How time changes people." she hissed.

That last little spat out sentence struck him all over like a thousand tiny needles, imbedding themselves into every sinew and every inch of skin. There’s a small instant before you do anything rash where your heart begins to beat faster, where your mouth goes dry and you will yourself to leap and not fall. To grasp chance and not plummet to your death. He would leap, he would leap and maker be damned he would attempt to survive.
With an almighty whoosh of water he threw himself up and turned on her, still standing in the tub with the waves lapping around his legs. He was naked, as naked as the day he was born, and he was staring down his enemy, his ex-lover and the woman who held his very life in the palm of her hand and she didn’t even flinch. He’d file that away for later, now wasn’t the time for pig ignorant pride. Silence fell between them and all that could be heard were the drips of water falling off his rapidly cooling skin. 

"And what do you know about time," he said slowly, tilting his head slightly to one side whilst looking at the shadowed woman against the wall, "what do you know about change?"
"I know it hasn’t been kind to either of us," she said as she stepped out of the shadowed darkness and into the candle light that barely filled the middle of the room, "come here."

He could feel her eyes on him, burning and sharp, roaming and pointed. Was this the leap he had readied himself for? Was this where he plummeted and burned? It wasn’t a question that fell from her lips but an order. He slowly stepped out of the water and, keeping his eyes on hers, walked towards her. He hoped deep down that something or someone would stop him when he got too close, would pull him back and give him a little dignity. She took another step forward and met him, face to face. Toe to toe. Their height matched perfectly still. Maker, he could smell her perfume. It snaked itself around his bare skin and he wanted to drink it all in, he wanted to devour her on scent alone. Was this what this was, was this a dance that lead to something else? Where was that fire that had been stoked only moments ago. He raised an eyebrow as her hand came up and her palm pressed against his collar bone, pushing at the deep scar that ran through it.

"When?" she simply asked, thumbing the scar tissue so lightly that he thought he may have imagined it.
"Battle of Kirkwall. Blood mage." he answered. Just like that. As quickly as she asked he offered up an answer. This wouldn’t end well.
She shifted her hand down agonizingly slowly to his ribs and placed her palm against the scorched flesh that resided there.
"When?" she asked again.

His throat went dry, swallowing didn’t work, he was going to ****** stutter at this rate."After I became General, recruit went mad and torched the camp we were in."
She repeated the same motion over and over again, occasionally being offered only shrugsor I don’t remember answers. She was mapping every new part of him, everything that time had shaped that she hadn’t witnessed. She was reading him like an open book and all he could do was stand before her and breathe. She ran her fingers up his arms, over his stomach and each time danced around the small patch of innocent looking flesh that covered his heart, each time getting closer but fingers twitching conveniently away. Leap Samson, leap. He lifted his hand and covered hers, wincing and waiting for a blow for being so bold. When her hand finally stilled in his he slowly placed her palm against that small piece of innocent flesh and waited. There was a moment, a sickly moment, where he regretted even offering conversation. He should have just asked her to leave, he should have took his own leave. Anything but this. Why on earth did he think he’d be given luxuries in this place without a price.

"…When?" she finally exhaled, pressing the bones of the heel of her hand into his flesh with a force that made him suck in a breath.
Leap.
"Ostwick. 13 years ago," he said quietly, "When the woman I loved decided to vanish into thin air without even a sodding goodbye."
"I had my reasons." she managed.
"Don’t we all, Inquisitor." he replied. And before he could begin to climb back up the mountain that he’d just flung himself off, before he could make sense of what was happening, she was gone. Through the door and out into the darkness, her hand ripped away like he was poison. She still had no time for his bullshit then. She was right after all, some things never do change.

He sighed, long and hard. He was tired, too tired to be angry. He walked to the clean clothes that had been set on a small chair for him and began to slowly dress. "When?" he said out loud to himself, mimicking the conversation to the emptiness that surrounded him, and stopping just a second to give a small disgusting laugh, he replied almost as if he owed himself a little honesty for once.

"Just now. Maker ****** help me."

 

source

 

Like the fanfic? Why not leave the author a few nice words, then?   

[Basement Cat]

Everyone knows that nobody dies unless Bioware says so. I will never die unlike that punk Dumat. I have style. I am the god of beauty after all

Beautiful teeth too...

[TheLastArchivist]

"After I became General, recruit went mad and torched the camp we were in."

 

 

[Tigrae]

Honestly, if you're hankering for more Samson content - just prowl around the #Samson tag on Tumblr.

 

Samson gets a man bun:

 

 

[Source]

[SmilesJA]

I now ship Samson x Calpernia!!!!

[Bugsie]

Okay the patch has dropped now which means I can get started on my Templar run although I'll be tweaking all I can to try and get the mods I've downloaded to work.  In regard to Calpernia I'm kinda dying to meet her now.

[Bugsie]

So if Hawke sides with the Mages and Samson has been reinstated with the Templars do we know what becomes of him in that path? All Ive read is that if he is around and Hawke sides with the Templars he fights with the champion, but nothing about the opposite.

[Rannah]

So if Hawke sides with the Mages and Samson has been reinstated with the Templars do we know what becomes of him in that path? All Ive read is that if he is around and Hawke sides with the Templars he fights with the champion, but nothing about the opposite.

It is possible that my memory fails me, but I haven't heard of or seen him after I reinstated him, just Cullen fought by my side in the end.

(I shall replay DA2 just for "science" once more...)

[Rannah]

How old Samson can be? Around his 40-50s? I don't remember that it has been mentioned somwhere, but my curiosity won't let me rest.

[Catwall]

How old Samson can be? Around his 40-50s? I don't remember that it has been mentioned somwhere, but my curiosity won't let me rest.

You got it. According to Jo Berry here, he's in his late forties or thereabouts.

[thesuperdarkone2]

So if Hawke sides with the Mages and Samson has been reinstated with the Templars do we know what becomes of him in that path? All Ive read is that if he is around and Hawke sides with the Templars he fights with the champion, but nothing about the opposite.

Apparently it doesn't matter what happened to Samson in DA2 considering he could have been executed. 

[Rannah]

You got it. According to Jo Berry here, he's in his late forties or thereabouts.

 

Wow, thanks alot

*back to thinking*

[Catwall]

Wow, thanks alot

*back to thinking*

No worries, but now you have me all curious about what you're thinking! I never said I wasn't nosy.

 

(just teasing, not actually trying to pry.)

[Bugsie]

I swear, I'm totally on the angst train with this dude.

[Meer]

I posted a little Samson/Female Trevelyan drabble collection um...here.
 

[KarateKats]

I posted a little Samson/Female Trevelyan drabble collection um...here.
 

PERFECT

[ModernAcademic]

This music makes me think of Samson's character a lot.

 

Doves - Caught By The River

 

 

Son what have you done? 
you're caught by the river 
you're coming undone 

life you know it can't be so easy 
but you can't just leave it 
'cause you're not in control anymore 

 

and you give it all away 

would you give it all away now? 
don't let it come apart 
don't want to see you come apart 

 

son what are you doing? 
you learned a hard lesson 
when you stood by the water 
you and i were so full of love and hope 

 

would you give it all up now? 
would you give in just to spite them all? 

 

 

http://bit.ly/1A00Lrk

[KarateKats]

I drew a thing.

[Rannah]

I drew a thing.

That looks wonderful! More please!

[Jo Berry]

For those interested: a WIP shot of something I'm making. It was inspired by jetpacksquirrel's sketch here, but several of the screenshots on this thread have really helped me out.