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WHO: Mac Journey and you there!
WHAT: Exploration of Skyhold, self-educating and existential dilemmas.
WHEN: The duration of Kingsway.
WHERE: Everywhere in Skyhold he can get access too, really.
NOTES: No warnings as of yet. Several prompts inside but feel free to bump into him anywhere! He's bound to stick his nose where it doesn't belong at some point.

Mac made it to Skyhold safely, accompanied by the lovely Miss Ellana. He learned most of the basics along the way, accepted his new palm and head accessories and decided sometime during the journey that he wanted to be part of the Inquisition, formally or otherwise. Anywhere people were in need, Mac was supposed to be there, and as far as Ellana said, the Inquisition was the choice to make. Fine by him.

Besides, they have a castle fortress and he's not about to pass up that opportunity.

Throughout the days following, Mac spends most of his time trying to learn about the world he's landed in and the people inhabiting it, both through literature and personal experience. As with all social efforts it's a bit touch and go; it's not made any easier for him being newly minted as a Qunari - or Rifter equivalent - and he certainly stands out with gold-plated ram horns, lime-colored eyes and long, undercut hair he painstakingly dyes a rich purple color.

Library

While terribly excited about the innumerable prospects available to him upon arriving at Skyhold, Mac is infinitely more intent upon the library, mentioned to him in brief. If is meant to be in the strange new world he has to do what any self-respecting Warlock would do: educate himself.

Back home the Guardian had scoured every library available to him and even gone on countless missions for the colleges to recover lost knowledge from the Ishtar Academy. He has a voracious appetite for knowledge (though a good many that knew him would say he wasted that motivation on his obsession with fiction and fantasy) and speed-reading is a talent he happily indulges. Thedas, as it turns out, is everything he had ever dreamed of and if he's going to inhabit the land for any length of time, being poorly educated is simply unacceptable.

Though certainly availing himself of other amenities available in the hold, Mac is most often found sitting on the floor surrounded by books, flipping through page after page, pale eyes scanning written words so quickly it's a wonder he can retain anything at all. His curiosity isn't limited to the written word, however, and anyone passing within range of him gets stared at without a hint of apology. He isn't trying to be rude, of course, but he's quite in love with everything and everyone he sees at present; that includes all those from the flashiest of Orlesian courtiers to the blandest of wool-wearing scullery maids.

Tavern and Kitchens

As it turns out, getting spit out of a green sky means you don't always come out the other side quite the same. Never actually having to eat or sleep back home was more of a dull fact than a boon and the novelty of needing to do both is unlikely to wear off anytime soon for Mac. As such he's always eagerly poking his head around corners and following the smells of local vittles.

There is nothing he's unwilling to try, however vile it might first appear, and his new appetite happens to be curiously large; he accounts it to his magic likely needing to be supported more by his metabolism and personal health now than the physics of his former home.

He's also never been able to enjoy the effects of alcohol and he's easily seen spending more time at the tavern during evening repast observing the effects on others while obviously longing to join in but being too unsure to try.

Healers

Injuries are a new thing for Mac, and they aren't at all welcome. While adapting to sleeping and eating regularly has been immensely enjoyable, having to actually heal from wounds is forcing him to question his usually more reckless approach to things.

Paper cuts, scrapes and bumps have been accepted as badges of newfound potential mortality, odd but harmless. The first time he endured a solid bruising left him bewildered but largely unmoved. The day he decided to hop down the battlement steps instead of walking the distance resulted in a tweaked ankle and limping. That was far more alarming. As a result Mac has endeavored to be more careful with his actions and person, but years of blindly barreling onward are difficult to change.

Due to his inevitable learning curve, Mac shows up at the healers regularly enough, pouting and holding new bruises and cuts as he seeks aid for ailments he's never had to deal with. It's about the most sullen he gets, having to put his fun on hold to treat a cut or burn. On the upside, he's certainly garnering a lot more respect for medicinal arts.

Main Bridge

When the library gets a bit crowded - as it sometimes does with all the mages, intellectuals and other curious Rifters - Mac likes to sneak a book off to the bridge and tuck himself against the stones jutting from the parapets, feet dangling over the side. Often, however, when he goes here he spends more time looking out across the frozen valley than actually reading, lost in thought or lost in the view.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I don't know what voodoo is, but the more extreme versions of blood magic do involve human -or other people- sacrifice. Virgin or not, I don't think it matters. Blood is power, and those hungry for power will shed a lot of it to get what they want. So, naturally, the south condemns it and Tevinter gives lip-service to doing so even though everyone knows they still pull off sick shit behind closed doors. It's worse than that, though. Blood magic can be used to control minds, which is another reason why it's so feared. I've seen the toll that can take, though thankfully wasn't on the receiving end of that myself. It also hurts the Veil, the barrier between us as the Fade, making it easier for demons to slip through. And in case you didn't notice, we have enough demon problems.

"Remind me to pass on a map, alright? I know that's a lot of names and places to keep in mind, but you'll need to now that stuff. The Inquisition sends us wherever we need to be, and that can often take us pretty far from here."

Draining most of her glass, Korrin sets it down and leans in. "The Free Marches are a gaggle of independent city-states. They each have their own way of doing things and often have rivalries with each other. Practically the only things they'll unite for are an invasion and the Grand Tourney. When that happens, everyone's a proud Marcher and don't you forget it. I was on the road more often than not as a kid, but if there's any place I could pinpoint as a hometown, it'd probably be Wycome. It's on the coast and the revelry capital of Thedas, so they end up with a lot of Antiva's wine."

"Map. Yes, please. I'd love a map," he mumbles, leaning to one side and propping his head in his hand, watching Korrin in perhaps the most relaxed state he's felt since arriving.

"Well, at least it's harder to control minds here than back home. That's good, I suppose. Not very comforting, but I guess people start disappearing into cookpots other people ask questions, so that's nice. Sort of. Mixed bag, I guess," the Guardian murmurs, frowning in thought before taking a few more swallows of wine.

"So, in this world, there's some wall between one place and another, and doing nasty magic makes that wall into more like tissue paper. Got it. But is everything on the other side bad? Like, is there a particular reason you people don't just seal it all up completely so it can't be tapped? Or is that to do with the magic again? Like you need to poke holes in the wall once in a while?"

"No, it's not all bad. The Fade is the home of spirits as well as demons, beings that usually don't interfere with or even try to help you. But that help isn't always...well, helpful, since spirits tend to think on a completely different level than we do. You might want to seek out Solas, he's the Fade and spirit expert. I just know enough to not get possessed."

As for how to explain the Veil...Korrin rubs her temple, knowing she brought this upon herself but still wondering if her explaining will make any sense at all. "The Fade is where we -and by 'we' I mean everyone except dwarves- go every night in our dreams. Mages are the only ones who can be lucid dreamers, but still. It's a thing. It's also where we get our magic from, so sealing it up completely wouldn't do us any favors. Not that I'm even sure that's possible, but you know, I'm not going to put the idea in anyone's heads.

And...seriously? Mind control was even more an issue back where you came from? Ugh, that's harsh."

"Yeah it's bad enough that we've got a name for it: Taken. Because you literally get taken, taken over and then you're just...a puppet, I guess. I don't know, we're not really in the habit of inducing states like that, even for the sake of science. That's all pretty much reserved for the "bad guy", y'know?" he mutters, shaking his head slightly.

Solas? More names to remember, more people to go hounding in the hopes of getting a hand up the ladder. He's starting to wonder just how much trouble he's about to get himself into, no matter how well-meaning.

"So your theory is that when we dream we go to an actual place? Well, I guess it's fact here, not so much theory. Man, the Osiris guys would have a field day with this. Okay, so, what? I went to sleep and slipped through the cracks somehow? Weird...but I can see why blocking it all off is a bad idea. I'm already uncomfortable just having my powers hampered, can't imagine what it would be like cut off from them completely." Chilling thought, really, since Guardians are defined by what they are more than who they are, since the who part is usually erased to a blank slate.

"Question, though maybe you'll redirect this to Solas, but if the Fade is a dream space where we all go, how do you know what you guys call spirits and demons aren't actually dreamers from other worlds?"

Taken. Korrin shakes her head incredulously, repulsed at the notion of being anyone's puppet. She's happy to move on to another topic, not wanting to dwell on the idea of her will being overwhelmed like that. Who would?

"Yeah, it's not a theory; it actually happens. And from what I can tell, that's pretty much how it is for rifters; they fall asleep and the rift spews them out. So far, I haven't heard of any other way they cross over. It makes sense, though, or as much sense as the Fade ever makes."

She stretches a little, taking a moment to answer that question. "Well, they aren't a recent thing; spirits and demons always been part of this world, before the Breach shredded the Veil to shit. And the Breach spawning those rifts is the only way we've ever gotten people from other worlds to come here. Maybe some of them did come from elsewhere, for all we know. But there's no real evidence on that, so we go with what we have.

Spirits and demons...they don't think like us or behave like us. They embody a virtue -or vice- and that's their whole existence...and they can change from one to the other, depending on what happens to them. A spirit embodying Hope can be corrupted into one of Despair, though I'm not really clear on how. Unless there are dreamers that are that malleable, I think it's safe to say that they're unique unto themselves."

"Are there any studies on it, though? I mean, just as a curiosity. If people are coming through on one end and coming out different on the other, that might be worth considering," he murmurs, more to himself than Korrin. He's not the most academic of Warlocks, so those deep schools of thought don't always interest him. He likes knowing things more than figuring them out. Let someone else run all the tests and do the math. He'll accept the result later on.

"So vices and virtues have real form here? That's gotta get complicated. But, spirits are good and demons are bad? It's that cut and dry?"

"Nope, not in the slightest. All spirits have the potential to be dangerous, especially to mages. We're like a beacon to them, with our power. That's why demons try to tempt and possess us. But demons and spirits aren't exactly unrelated; a spirit that becomes corrupted from its original purpose will turn into a demon. A lot of those demons you see around the rifts? They could have been spirits at one point, but being dragged unwillingly into our world drove them mad." Korrin shakes her head, a little pitying but not to the extent that she'll ever hesitate to destroy them and save the rifters or others involved.

"Wow...that's....really sad," Mac mumbles, sipping more from his cup and tapping the fingers of his shard hand along the side. Good spirits getting corrupted by bad magic. Awful stuff.

"We don't have active spirits where I'm from. Not really. We have the forces of nature, which can be embodied or manipulated, but past that most people don't believe in real spirits. We're not even sure about souls anymore, the way Guardians are. But for physical manifestations to be ruined like that seems wrong. Like...really wrong. Man."

It isn't quite like anything Mac has encountered before, more the territory of the Darkness than those that walked in the Light, and he isn't sure how to feel about it. He knows he definitely feels deep concern for the world he's in, if there's something rending the very fabric of reality and twisting the spirits representative of emotion. Not exactly sunny thinking.

"So...close the rifts, beat the bad guy, save the world?"

"It is wrong, I couldn't agree more." Korrin knows not to let her guard down around spirits, ever, but that doesn't mean she wants to see them warped from what they were. Especially on a practical standpoint, that just makes life harder for everyone else.

Gesturing for a refill, she then turns and nods to him with a crooked smile. "Something like that, yeah...or at least it's saved until the next Blight or when the Qunari invade or any number of things. The Dragon Age is not lacking for excitement."

Puffing a long sigh and shaking his head, Mac finished off the remains of his second wine and leaned forward, cradling his head on folded arms.

"It's never one thing, is it? Here you have the Blight and civil wars and demons. Back home it's the Darkness, Hive, Cabal, Vex, Fallen...now the Taken. It never ends. It can never just be one simple, obvious enemy. And it's always so gray!" he complains, stomping a foot in the manner of a complaining child.

"It can't ever be just bad guys that are bad, always have been, always will be. Noooo, there's always gotta be exceptions to the rules, civilians, defectors. All these tangles. Stupid tangles."

It may be childish, but Mac's complaining gets him nothing but sympathy from Korrin. "You're preaching to the choir, here. I'd love more black-and-white situations, not all this tangled web bullshit. I'm a mercenary; point me at a problem and I'll fight my way out of it. I'll take whatever I can get, but the last truly simple fight was a fucking high dragon. That was a bitch and a half to kill, but at least then it was straightforward. Nothing manipulating it, just a damn dragon that needed to die.

If you want to get as close to unadulterated evil as you can, the Red Templars and Venatori are excellent targets thanks to their willingness to corrupt, experiment on and work people to death. The more we can put in the ground and free civilians from their crap, the better."

"Oh man, I wanna fight a dragon, though. That's gotta be the craziest. Like...a freakin' dragon? You can' make that stuff up. You can write about it all day, but you can't really imagine it until you do it, right? It has to be the most insane experience. If I weren't so damn squishy now...ugh. How do people handle being so vulnerable all the time?" he continues complaining, pulling up a sleeve and nodding to the bandages on his arm.

"Ridiculous. Can't even handle bumps and dings anymore. I'm a delicate flower!" the man continues to whine, thumping his head on the bar lightly before peeking up over his arm again.

"So this Inquisition, though. They're the unequivocal good guys, right? Like no question, best intentions, righting the wrongs and doing the good do?"

As he pulls up his sleeves, Korrin's eyes narrow as she stares at those bandages. "Remind me to take you to the Undercroft. You need to learn how to mix healing potions. Don't worry, you don't need to be a mage to make one of those. Rejuvenation potions help, too; they heal you a bit at a time."

But she's not getting up now because her refill is coming over, so Mac will just have to deal. "That's the intention, at least. Compared to the asshole who wants to enter the Fade and become this world's god, the Inquisition just wants to restore order, which includes not having demons all over the place. That also means uprooting his lackeys, who I just mentioned. It's a tough tightrope to walk, though; the Chantry's denounced us as heretics and we really only have influence in the places that agree to listen to us in the first place. Orlais is embroiled in its dumbass civil war or it might pay more attention to us, good or bad. Everywhere else has its own problems, only some caused by Corypheus. Though they know we stopped that giant hole in the sky, some still aren't convinced we can ultimately bring the bastard down. And some just hate that there's a new player in Thedas politics.

Hell, I hate it too but I always hate politics. And yet, I'm on the mage council." Smirking a little at the irony, Korrin takes another sip.

"Politics. I don't like those either," he mumbles, sighing with a little huff and resting his head on his arms again, speaking at the bar with his voice slightly muffled.

"Healing potions would be good. I'm always going to the healing tents and I think it's driving the healers kinda crazy. Maybe. They're all pretty nice so maybe not, I don't know. It's hard to tell. Sometimes people smile when they hate you and frown when they like you, so...you pretty much just have to wing it all the time. I like them, though. We don't have healers so it's a neat thing, despite the necessity."

Raising a hand but not his head, Mac curls his fingers briefly, then opens them again, a crackle of blue-white light arcing between his fingertips before coalescing into a spinning, fluctuating orb hovering in his palm. Flicking his wrist and dismissing it again in a flutter of crackling sparks he returns his hand to it's place tucked under his face.

"I'm a Warlock, but I don't think it's the same thing."

"Eh, don't worry about the healers. That's what they're here for, to patch us up. If we didn't get injured, they'd have basically nothing to do. Besides, most of the ones I know are pretty long on patience." They've far more of it than Korrin, who would make a terrible healer just because of that and she knows it well.

Upon noting Mac's power, Korrin leans in to have a look...and to shield the blue-white light from any potential onlookers that might get jumpy about magic, especially unknown magic. When he dismisses it, she leans back again, shaking her head. "Not exactly, no, but as long as you hold your own in battle, I don't care about distinctions. Blasting enemies when you spot them is all anyone can ask for, and then some."

Alas for Korrin, Mac doesn't really understand that basic demonstrations of power aren't precisely okay in a shared social setting. It's too common and simple for him to think about it as anything bigger than showing someone you know how to twist your tongue funny ways. Some people can, some people can't. It's not that big of a deal.

"All I'm really good at is blasting things, honestly. Healing is occasionally a byproduct of my actions, but past that, I'm mostly good for explosions and not dying. Mostly. I don't know about that so much anymore. Without Ghost I'm a lot more squishy than I'm used to."

"Hey, not dying is an art form all in its own. Sure, maybe you're more squishy than you used to be, but there are other ways to toughen up around here. Any armor made of dragon material is unbeatable protection right then and there. Protective runes exist, too, and you can add those to armor. Some enchanted items come in handy, too. This ring--" She points to one among many on her fingers. "--is enchanted to heal me whenever I kill an enemy. Morbid, I know, but if you're out of potions or mana, it can be a life-saver."

"Really? Huh," Mac mumbles, perking a bit and peering over enough to see the ring, purple brows furrowing.

"You think they can enchant some of my stuff? None of it really does anything right now. Well, I mean the rings and bangle don't. They're mostly just decorative reminders." the Guardian muses, rubbing where the rings sat underneath his gloves.

"Usually I can resurrect myself, with enough gathered energy prior to a mortal blow. It's handy when my Ghost can't get to me immediately to save me himself, but since I dunno where Ghost is at all right now, I guess I'll just...have to wait and see." Not a very uplifting prospect, but at least he can hope he won't die on the spot.

"What you'll want is a Lifeward Amulet. They break after every use, so you'll actually want to get a set, but they're definitely worth the price. What they do is heal you should you be dealt a mortal blow. It's not a lot of healing, usually, but it'll be enough to keep you on your feet until you can get help." Korrin doesn't have one on her to show as an example, but they're easy enough to request from the merchants in Skyhold.

"And sure, armor and weapons can be upgraded with runes. Other enchantments can probably happen too, though that's not my area of expertise. I got this ring from a giant's horde after killing it, so I didn't make it or have it made."

Edited 2016-09-23 01:00 (UTC)

Nodding and taking the information in - albeit a bit blearily - Mac sighs and turning his head, horn clunking against the bar and flashing in the light flicking across the gold plate. He tilts and taps the horn a few times, clearly enjoying it for some reason and it doubles as a replacement for thoughtfully tapping a finger or foot. Not the most conventional, but he's learning.

"Better safe than sorry, yeah. I'll always keep my spells ready, either way, but it's better than going at things expecting a rosy resolution and ending up dead because of something stupid. At least now I understand why people were always yelling at me for dumb stuff. Jumping off the Tower, running through the fires. Not trying to dodge. Pffft. Dodging."

Talking about getting killed through stupid means would normally get an eyeroll and snarking remark from Korrin, but Kain's death is still very fresh in her mind. She heaves a sigh and nods, staring into her cup. "...yeah, please don't get yourself killed through stupidity or recklessness. I'll try to spot you if I can, but if you're constantly doing that stuff, then at some point you're not going to have anyone to save your ass. I've seen it more times than I care to count."

"No way, not on purpose, anyways. I've gotten dings and scratches and things hurt now. I mean, they always hurt before, but for just a second. Now things ache for a long time, and that sucks. I've never had to deal with a lasting injury," he mutters, shaking his head and closing his eyes with a sigh.

"Definitely brings to light why a lot of civilians cross their eyes at Guardians. To them, not suffering illness or injury must be completely alien. Kinda feel bad, honestly."

"I get that. Not everyone in Thedas has access to magical healing or potions or even just a good, non-magical healer. In Skyhold, we're pretty damn lucky to have all three. So, don't let those resources go to waste. You get slapped down by a demon, have the sense get yourself patched up. Don't be the asshole who constantly has to be chased down by healing staff."

So, maybe she's being a little hypocritical here. Korrin isn't the best patient, and when she was suffering from illness, she did exactly that. But she considers weird Fade-related illness stuff different from wounds that can be easily healed. There wasn't anything she could do in her case but wait, and the same tent walls were so very boring.

"Haha, yeah. No. I'm discovering that I'm a colossal baby about this. But uh, don't let that get around, y'know," he mumbles, waving his hand slightly before sitting up enough to grip his cup, looking down into it suspiciously.

"Would you judge me if I just got water?" he asks, sliding his gaze over Korrin and squinting. "I want more wine, kind of, but I can't really afford to pay anyone back right now."

"Eh, I usually let peoples' actions speak for themselves. Unless they're collossal assholes best avoided, but you haven't fallen into that category." She pauses to take another sip and shrugs. "It's not a loan, you know. I figure everyone new here deserves a drink or few, no strings attached. I'm not hurting for cash, so it's no sacrifice on my part. Get what you want."

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