I. OPEN.

[liberalum]

WHO: Dorian Pavus and other less dashing people.
WHAT: Training in a courtyard; other pre-planned threads.
WHEN: Firstfall in general.
WHERE: Skyhold, an open courtyard.
NOTES: Below are some open prompts for those who wish for a run in during Mage Fight Club aka How To Train Your Wizard aka How We Do In Tevinter. Catch him during, before, after. Note that there isn't magic being flung around (yet), it's fairly ordinary. This will also be a general dumping ground for individual pre-planned threads that need a home.

[ There is a courtyard within Skyhold, as dilapidated as the rest, that is one day going to be a garden. For now, it's a good enough retreat for the rebel mages that lies aside from the training grounds often dominated by the less magical. The ground is mud and weeds, and the sky is open above them, and a tree with orange leaves frames the shapes of mountains beyond.

Sometimes, Dorian trains on his own. There is a dance-like grace to the movements of staff and the man wielding it, feet light on the ground and tracking circles in the mud, following the heavy swing of seven feet of solid oak. He follows practiced motions, sans the presence of actual magic. A twirl of his staff over head, the thick sounding thud of the blunt end slamming into the dense earth, and sharper, quicker movements for what would likely be sharper, quicker spellwork. Sometimes he is observed. Sometimes he is not. Regardless as to status of audience, he definitely likes to show off.

Sparring, equally. The clak-clak-thud of wooden staves meeting, locking, scraping together as he and another willing mage practice their more ordinary skills. Sometimes he loses, and often he wins, graceful in victory and defeat.

Unless he is knocked off his feet, or earns himself a bruise, then he might curse their mother.

And there are other times, later times, when he shifts into a role of teacher. Not all mages are trained in combat, after all, and some may like to learn -- even from a Tevinter. (Maybe especially from a Tevinter, but who would admit that out loud?) He demonstrates, slowly, staff work, guides those willing to listen and imitate with a certain educated patience, the occasional funny remark about turning their feet out. Sometimes, these sessions are simply standing about, and he explains with big words and big hand gestures the way one might finesse certain spells in combat situations.

He takes breaks, in between and after, perched atop crumbled stone with one leg across the other -- watching and thinking. ]

Comments

the future garden. adelaide leblanc.

[liberalum]

[ He'd considered the place and time of this meeting with a little care. He found it poor form to socialise overly much in the library, for instance, and the cramped confines meant that anything they had to say to each other would be overheard by anyone. The battlements make for a nice view, and even the biting wind coming off the snowy slopes beyond wouldn't have put him off, but instinctive conscientiousness has him compelled not to make their socialising a display to anyone glancing upwards.

The tavern seems common. And full of Templars.

It's under the shade of the tree in the location that might be a garden some day that Dorian summons her instead. Despite his urgency, he suggests a sun down time, when the space is a little emptier, and they might watch some of the rebel mages wander by and huddle amongst themselves. Dorian isn't picnicking on the ground, oh no -- there are a couple of benches already set up beneath the shade of the tree with its orange, wintry leaves, one of which he has straddled as he inspects the bottle of wine he's procured likely through a card game or a victorious sparring match.

There are also a couple of mugs. He isn't a savage.

As she arrives, he is currently summoning an incredibly mild heat glyph, glimmering across the glass under his fingers. Just enough to warm the wine. ]

how to train your wizard.

[apostasia]

Despite having barely stirred from the library since his arrival in Skyhold - he sleeps nearby, when he does - Martel is not insensible to the complicated space he occupies here and the varied reactions to it. (The angry man calling everyone demons, for instance; the woman with the odd accent disavowing his stance. He ought to learn her name, at some point.) He listens more than he remarks, for now, but sooner or later - he will have to take some sort of stance.

And perhaps that's what he does, when walking past one of Dorian's adventures in teaching the youth turns into walking the (short but respectable) line and stopping behind one of them to correct his posture and fall in beside him, repeating the gesture several times until he seems to be understanding what he's supposed to be doing instead of just mimicking it poorly.

Dorian would've got to him. It was just quicker for Martel to do it, since he was there -

And since he's still there, he might as well make himself useful.

[thedevilson]

Dante wasn't much for participating in the sparring matches and training regimens that took place in the courtyard, if for no other reason than he knew it wouldn't be fair. He observed, however, since it would be the closest thing to an action sequence in a movie that he would get for the longest time. Ah, how he was starting to miss his cheap entertainment! Mages in training, well, that was different and this was his first preview of what they were really capable of, not that he hadn't fought along side with a lady that threw ice around like it was cool...no pun intended. He was too busy slaughtering demons to really pay attention however...so this was his first official introduction. He didn't think there was so much...well...physical stuff involved, especially in the absence of magic, it was like watching tai-chi or some mild form of martial arts.

Not that Dante wasn't the most avid of souls he really did have nothing better to do with himself and watching for hours was better than pacing around like a caged animal. And though there wasn't a magical bone in his entire being...well depending on what one considered magic and what one considered innate...there was something pertinent about all of this. Where he came from this sort of thing didn't exist, it was more nuanced and complex than what he dealt with. Demon weren't complex, demons were very forward, physical force, coercion...and holy fuck the smell, but still the methods Dante used were effective in their case. Hack, hack, throw, slash.

This was something else entirely and while he wasn't a learned child, he was street wise enough to know that the more you knew the more you knew. Who knew when he would run up against a mage in combat? Could he outmaneuver...probably...but more often than not, whenever you think you're the fire and can't get burnt, the fall from grace hits you a lot harder. Dante wasn't that kind of idiot, but he wasn't one for overt learning either so he kept his distance, listening in and out...being more kinesthetic than audio he did tune out some of the mover verbal stuff, but he was very keen when there were physical demonstrations: everything from the solo-training, to sparring, to the more physical part of the lessons he adhered to.

And when it was all over Dante finally approached, though whether his presence had been noticed or not hours before he didn't really care. He offered Dorian the most polite of golf claps as he approached, "that was a lot like watching a strip show...more clothing, less laser light...but entertaining all the way!"

No one could accuse him of eloquence.

[fleurdesel]

[ Come urgently- but wait until dusk. It must be some manner of Tevinter peculiarity that made him write that it is urgent, an apology can be offered in writing as much as it can in person but after the past few days? Adelaide is not going to turn down a free glass of wine provided it isn't Fereldan.

If it is she may very well take offense and leave, apology or no.

Between the hour and the tension not only among the other mages but her students in particular a moment's respite and a drink are direly needed- the garden is as inoffensive a place to share it as any. Benches, mugs, and warmed wine? He either feels terribly guilty or terribly thoughtful. ]

I must say this is not what I had expected when you wrote.

[ A corner in the tavern or hurried glass in the library, perhaps, but not anything quite so- well. Considerate. She settles with a tense grace upon one of the benches after propping her staff against the trunk of the tree. Likely she won't be needing it. ]

[aceso]

[ Christine knows spells that cause destruction and death, but outside of having to defend herself during the mages' flight from Andoral's Reach to Ferelden, she has no combat experience. She's a healer; she doesn't like to inflict wounds. But it sounds like there is a need for healers in the Fallow Mire and she may just go, if she can learn some combat skills first. She'll be no use if she's jumping up and away from corpses every minute. She has to be able to protect her patients as well as herself if the corpses get close with their arrows. So she stands off to the side as Dorian demonstrates, her staff in one hand. ]

Someone broke the first rule of mage fight club

[nofury]

[ It was probably a given Templars were not invited to mage training. Even if that training were simply a bit of sparring, hardly anything impressive or up to the terrible legends of the great magics of Tevinter, it was still probably a given. But until explicitly instructed not to, Maria liked to ignore any givens and tended towards asking for forgiveness later rather than permission to start.

So there she stands, observing the staff fighting with the roughly made dueling circle. It had been a rare sight, before everything fell apart, to to see mages openly training for combat even without magic. And it said something about how the world was changing to see it now.

She waits until the current bout is done before approaching the Inquisition's current Tevinter representative (or exile or evil secret agent or demon in disguise, depending on who you listened to). Maria is in armor, but her hands rest loosely at her sides rather than on her sword, her tone light.]

I understand the Templar Order is somewhat different in the Imperium.

[slipshot]

[He'd heard about Dorian. Well - actually, he'd even seen him, as the man was rather hard to miss. But before, in Haven, the camp had been full of rumours and whispers about them, most not particularly nice. The blacksmith, in particular, had been a fountain of rather rude words the only time Dorian had come up in a conversation with him.

It was the Tevinter thing.

It was hard to really feel anything about people from Tevinter at all. He'd met only a few, and the rest may as well have been fairy stories of long ago. They had about as much impact on him as other fairy tales did. He'd never had to fight them, and his Clan hadn't had much contact with them at all. So it was more curiosity, than fear, that he felt. Plus, he'd gotten to know Krem, who was also from Tevinter, and Krem was great - so surely the mage couldn't be that bad?

(The Blacksmith's words rang in his ears but they just made him grin.)

He'd kept his distance since then in the same way he kept his distance from the majority of the Inquisition's inner circle. A sort of respect, mingled with guilt.

Today, though, he'd been planning to come out and bother Krem while he was training and found the mages at it instead, and so sat down on the edge of the fence, pulling out the cloth he had shoved into his pockets, carefully unwrapping it. Cookies, a little cheese, and a plum - his afternoon spoils from his raid of the kitchen. He watched with both curiosity and rapt attention, eating quietly until they finished up. He'd been about to disappear back where he had come from, when he noticed Dorian peeling off, and decided (without really thinking about it) to offer him a snack.]

Staves looks like hungry work. Cookie? Plum? I ate the cheese already, I'm afraid, I couldn't help it.

[liberalum]

[ Dorian will accept his being fickle as a mark of his being foreign, and a host of other sins. He'd probably prefer that accusations as to his being considerate be chalked up to that too. ]

Ha, well. Unfortunately, I only thought to extend invitation after the quiet hour had passed at the tavern.

[ He pours them both polite doses, and the scent of spiced wine immediately lifts with steam in the cold air. The heat glyphs gently fade off the glass, gone by the time he lists sideways to set it aside on even ground. ]

And of what we have to discuss, I'd prefer not to shout over bard songs and calls for second rounds.

[fleurdesel]

What is there to discuss? I was under the impression this was an apologetic invitation.

[ Not that she is at all against discussing- well. Anything in particular. For a companion to the Herald she has nothing but time to offer. Besides. Drinking silently does not seem much like something Dorian would do.

She accepts her glass with a lifted salute before taking a sip. ]

[liberalum]

Well, I wouldn't like you to think you've been ensnared. An apology warrants several words, at least.

[ But there is naturally something else, or else he might have simply gifted her the spiced wine. Dorian's acts of regret are measured performances, not to be done lightly.

He hefts his glass. ]

My behaviour was regretful. Deserving as that man might have been, you were caught in the middle of it all, which was certainly not my intention. I apologise.

[ He is sincere, if self-aware as to his affectation judging by the smile behind his expression. ]

Now, what are we going to do about all these mages?

[ Wine sip. ]

[fleurdesel]

By words of regret and warmed wine? What a dastardly trap by the 'evil Tevinter Magister' indeed. How ever am I to resist?

[ Dry and not unkind- more amused by those particular rumors than anything else. While he had acted out of anger so had most everyone involved in that scuffle and every altercation that night. Grief makes fools of templars and mages alike. ]

You are forgiven.

[ She can't blame him for taking a swing- truly she ought to have known better than to get involved.

What comes next, though, has her choking on her wine. ]

What?

How To Train Your Fight Club In Tevinter (I couldn't resist)

[el_tybs]

[It had become a bit of habit for him to wander near the soon-to-be-garden, to see how it was coming along, after his morning practice. By all means he had expected it to be still and quiet as always, save for the occasional gardener. So of course when he sees someone practicing it catches him a bit off guard, before it draws him in.

He's sure to walk carefully as not to disturb the practice, taking a seat on a nearby boulder as he watches the man go through the motions. The steps, the rhythm, the calculated breathing, all done with such grace. Familiar, but different, obviously gained from years of casting magic and wielding a staff.

It isn't lost on him who he's watching either. Though he's never met the man, there has been plenty of stories around Skyhold to easily identify the Trevinter Mage. Course stories fell rather short from the actual thing.

Once Dorian eventually stops, Sam gives a light applause. Honestly he was impressed.]

Pretty impressive. Must be quite the show when you're actually casting magic along with all that.

[liberalum]

What are we going to do about all these mages?

[ ...he repeats, with the same inflection. Mercy moves him to explain; ]

Little as I like to agree with anything the Knight-Commander has to say, for he'd sooner see me frog-marched out of Skyhold than not, there's truth in that the mages could use guidance, if not discipline. As of now, if a mage bullies a Templar, they can cry to Baratheon or Sauveterre about it rather than petition to meet with the leadership and be put on their to do list. The mages haven't quite the same support in the reverse scenario, and as such, will behave independently. Or misbehave independently.

You were quite the compelling voice of authority, Lady LeBlanc, before I ruined it.

[fleurdesel]

While I agree that we need some form of leadership- circle titles matter for precious little and any Junior or Senior Enchanter that I've spoken to on the matter has yet to wish to step forward. We remember all too well what happened at the last gathering of the College and how that ended.

[ Blood in the halls, blood in the water. Lips pressed thin she takes another, deeper sip of wine, as though the spiced warmth of it can remove the bitterness of that night. ]

You would have me step forward? What possible authority could I claim? I'm a healer, a teacher- not a leader. [ Knight Commander Stannis had made that much plain- and despite his temperament and his tone- she has to agree. She cannot command anyone. ]

[liberalum]

I'm not suggesting we construct a Circle. What a mess that would be! You southerners can't even agree as to what a Circle is supposed to be, and the mages that take up residence here were fighting for the dissolution of that very notion. No, no, that wouldn't do.

[ Dorian's gestures don't seem to ever risk spilling his wine. He has a lot of practice. ]

What would do is a representative at the very least. You may not be a commander, but you're sympathetic, you value their education, and you didn't flinch from Baratheon at his most boorish. You might not be able to claim authority, true, and I'm not suggesting you commence a take over.

But it's worthy of consideration, is it not?

[fleurdesel]

It is a familiar point of reference for those of us that had Circles that worked- that is all. Recreating them would be...Not possible and entirely unwise.

[ Another deep drink. A representative? She can be a point of authority for those she brought from Andoral's reach only because she'd already been their teacher. But these other mages? No. ]

Someone must step forward, perhaps more than one. I cannot imagine Fereldan mages would be pleased to have no voice.

[liberalum]

[ Dorian opens his mouth to argue or sass on instinct, but closes it again before he can. Southerners don't really look all the same to him, and maybe a joke to that effect would be ill timed.

His gaze narrows speculatively, suspicious of her backing off, before readjusting his sit on the bench to kick one leg over the other knee. ]

Very well, [ he concedes. ] But you said it yourself -- you've yet to encounter anyone of the rebels willing to do what should be done, and I would be suspicious of anyone who wants to lead this rabble.

[fleurdesel]

We cannot exactly put a request on the bulletin board or hold a meeting over it to place a vote- not without a lot of suspicion and lurking from templars. Which I would rather do without if we are to find our own leader. I suppose your nationality is the one thing that keeps you from offering your experience?

[ Wouldn't that sour Stannis' mood further, if such a thing were possible. She takes another sip of her wine, tipping the empty cup in Dorian's direction. Such a discussion should probably happen sober but there's too much bound up in the last meeting she'd held with mages attempting to govern themselves for her to think on this calmly. ]

As I said- recent history with mages and their leaders makes people weary. There was a vote, it wasn't what the templars or the Chantry wished to hear, people died. I came here to get away from that.

[liberalum]

[ Dorian laughs. ]

As much as I'd pay money to see the look on Baratheon's face upon my announcing myself in charge of the mages, no, that wouldn't be wise.

[ But he settles down to seriousness at the next part, a twinge of sympathy about him behind otherwise cool remove. Ah, the south. ]

You came to the right place. I trust Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, Cassandra, all of them, to uphold what the Herald began, and she gave mages their freedom. We aren't ordained by the Chantry, nor beholden to the Templars, no matter what Baratheon pretends. Any attempts to create structure and order amongst us will be welcomed, so long as someone sensible -- like yourself -- is there to start the conversation. It should be posed as an opportunity for guidance and education, not martial law.

I was there the day they were recruited, you know.

[ People seem to forget he didn't just ride a fancy chariot all the way from Tevinter into Haven. He reminds at a nudge. ]

I also don't see why we can't put a message on the bulletin board, or the like. Transparency would be welcomed better than cloak and dagger, wouldn't you say?

[fleurdesel]

They are doing well despite the difficulties presented by having both mages and templars at their disposal. It is for them and the Herald's memory more than anything else that I would like to have this settled.

[ They fought and she had died for this- to see this matter. Fighting amongst themselves is as much spitting on her name as it is endangering everyone else in the hold. ]

I heard a rumor, yes. And...it is less that I would have this be done in secret than it is I would rather not have my name put to this. Whoever is chosen would have to have dealings with not only Commander Cullen and Seeker Cassandra and the rest- but the Templars as well as equals and be able to see them objectively. I cannot. My bias is well known.

Should you put your name to it- your connection to the Herald, the good you've done? May be enough.

[liberalum]

[ Dorian's eyebrows lift at her more measured suggestion, although there's no sign of agreement. Still, it is in a little way appreciated, and he ducks a look down at the mug in his hand, watching the particles of herb rest on its glossy surface.

He turns his wrist, swirling the mulled wine slightly. ]

I shan't condescend to remind you all of what my nation represents. I've much good still left to do, and it won't start with me acting exactly as they'd imagine a Tevinter magister to act -- wresting control for myself over others, no matter what my intent. They escaped the rule of one Tevinter already. No, I cannot. There are other ways I can lend my experience, and I intend to, just not in this.

Your bias is cultivated in experience too. The rebel mages would not accept an apologist of the Templars.

[fleurdesel]

...I do hate admitting when I am wrong.

[ It will have to be her to start the discussion, it seems. For this? She most certainly needs another glass of wine, if not another bottle. Adelaide peers into the middle distance, remembered tension attempting to creep up her spine and choke her. Step forward. Be the voice of reason. Be sensible.

Be stabbed for it.

Or strangled by a gauntleted hand for daring so much as to speak or question.

She rubs at her throat with a grimace, recalling so simple a request as wishing to pass without violence all too easily. How it all erupted in nothing but violence and what came after. ]

My bias comes from a rather singular event. Until then...I did not mind them or what they did so long as I was left to my studies. I did not pay enough attention to have an opinion.

[liberalum]

[ The neck of the bottle clinks against Adelaide's cup as a second helping is knowingly poured into the container. ]

All that says is that you've seen them at their worst, and at their-- passably tolerable, I suppose. I do hate when I'm levelled with personal questions--

[ Dorian tops himself up too. ]

--but if you did wish to talk about it, you may.

[mythalenaste]

[Pel soaks up learning like a sponge. She attacks the lessons with the voracious appetite of a dragonling feasting upon cute, helpless creatures. In fact, her focus may be called obsessive, determined to get everything perfectly correct. Not just on the first try, but repeatedly afterward. Movements slow at first, and speeding up after. Practice does not make perfect, after all. Practice makes permanent.

When working with a partner, she doesn't limit herself to the movements Dorian is teaching. Anything that will plant her opponent on their back is acceptable. Right? So if her pragmatic fencing offends you, you need to watch out before she slides her staff between your legs and leverages it to bend your knee and throw you off balance.

[el_tybs]

[Honestly? The Elf is a little bit intimidating from what he's seen while watching her practice. Though smaller, Sam can sense that she is like a slow building storm. She could easily overpower anyone who wasn't prepared enough. Which is why it takes him a while to build up the nerve to approach her. Not because he's scared, but simply because he isn't sure if walking up with provoke an attack.

So it's with slow movements and a wide berth that Sam walks closer to the woman.]

That's good form.