"It's origins are a little similar." She says with a sigh, meeting his eyes levelly, looking over him plainly. The game of it gone, meeting him in that upward turn that is more about what she keeps back than what it is showing.

"Some call it the Holy Grail, the cup which was blessed by a mortal son of God. Others Ichor, a powerful substance that runs in the veins of now fallen Gods. My own people say that it is the primordial substance that conjured the world, the very liquid of divinity itself." There a bite there, that is her long fight with the chantry, it seems, but this is neither the time or place. "I suspect the truth is a little of all of them, but it was discovered centuries before I was ever born to tell you absolutely. Only that long ago, knights found it, when mankind was threatened to be destroyed, and those that drink it, swore themselves to eternal protection of those around them. Not so dissimilar to your wardens or templars. I took it up for such the same reasons."