faderift | Blood Magic

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Blood Magic - 101

WHO: James Norrington, and YOU.
WHAT: Norrington gets ambushed, for information.
WHEN: Currently
WHERE: Norrington's 'office' (aka the table he's secured outside his tent to write reports)
NOTES: Warnings for blood magic, irritated Templar and probable Mage and Templar politics abounding, as well as people asking silly questions

Honestly, he really should have seen this coming. He was a known Templar Knight Commander - he had been hunting blood mages for nearly fifteen years now. His name were on several papers on Maelficarium, and he had trained Knights all over the Free Marches and even as far away as Orlais and Fereldan on how to properly hunt and kill blood mages.

Certainly, people were going to know of him. Certainly people were going to ask him about his past experiences. It was inevitable.

What he did not expect that was after coming in at the tail-end of an abomination attack to be bombarded by questions about blood magic - from soldiers down to the common folk. They crowded around him now, and you could just hear his voice over the fray of questions, stern and sometimes even caustic.

" -- NO I am not here to execute all the apprentice mages! One of them slipped - one. That does not mean the rest of them are suddenly going to start slicing open their wrists! They are children, they are learning. Is there a danger? Yes, but I sincerely doubt any of the mages here is blatantly teaching them ancient mind control rituals... "

There was a fast murmur of questions and then Norrington's voice could be heard again. "... No. You cannot do blood magic simply by cutting your finger and cursing. If that was the case every cook in the history of Thedas would be a blood mage. There are practices that someone must follow to use blood magic. If not, that is how we get abominations and demons from those failed spells."

Another fast and loud rat-a-tat of questions, and Norrington could be seen rubbing his face, "... No, not every blood mage is a Tevinter. Nor are they all Dalish. No, the Dalish do not practice sacrificing babies with Tevinter magisters -- do you know what the majority of the slave trade is? Yes, then it stands to reason that the Dalish and the Tevinter Magisters are Not In Cahoots. And NO the Dalish are not aiding Corpheyus with their tattoos -- their tattoos are not blood magic!"

Clearly, this is going well. So if you wish to help Norrington -- or just add more fuel to the fire -- please, feel free to stop by.

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"The Dalish like to keep to themselves. We can hardly blame them." Maker knows they'd earned the right to be left alone. He had a lot of deep sympathy for the elves - had often wondered if he could get an elf into the Templar Order. They deserved as much a chance to prove themselves as anyone else. "I believe the message they can clearly read is - Corpheyus is a murdering bastard. But that may jut be my interpretation. Beyond that ... no one forgets the Fifth Blight, my lady. There is not a soul that could."

Whereas, the Inquisition, the Divine, all of that is one of the cornerstones of Norrington's own beliefs. That current events kept proving to him that the Maker's hand was in everything -- he didn't expect many to believe that.

"They are looking to make their own mark, have their own stable form of ... well, governing. I would be a liar if I said I was not trepedous -- but with all they are doing, all that they have done ... " He sighed, "And after all that they have suffered - they've earned the chance."

He paused, then answered simply, "The Circle at Ostwick."

"And when even one clan is lost, another chapter is erased, magic, knowledge, history, wisdom, scattered to the winds." Especially with the recent chaos; when last Morrigan had walked through Ferelden the bears and bandits had not dared to be so bold. "Those of us who saw the worst of the Blight remember it well, but it does slip from memory. As for Corypheus, there are clearly some - more than some - who believe he is the one carving the path they should follow. Any from Tevinter following is less than surprising but others..."

It's why it's good to be away from Orlais and the plots; for all that she's known as Celene's advisor, and whatever other less polite names that they have for one who follows their customs and ways just enough to flout them, there are a few who would remember what she had seen, what she had been a part of. At least here she's hardly alone in that regard.

"Perhaps they will finally stop bickering amongst themselves, I heard enough about the fraternities to wonder why they even bothered though I do hope that this time they don't manage to cage themselves once again. There are all too many who would throw away the key and lock them up tighter than before. A Blight and you can understand mages on the road burning all in their path but Redcliffe already has such a long memory in that regard." And it would be Redcliffe, wouldn't it, practically where it began, one of the most widely known parts of Ferelden falling into something almost like chaos once again. At least Orlais is occupied on ripping itself to pieces though should Gaspard triumph, there will be hungry eyes and blades at the borders once again.

"How did Ostwick remain during the uprising? I was in Orlais and well, we saw what happened there but Ostwick is far closer to where it all began."

"That ... is a tragedy beyond anything I have ever heard of. An entire history, just disappearing." He pressed his lips together, sweeping memories away as he looked ack at her, "Well those people are clearly idiots. Corphyeus thinks nothing more of them than rivets to build his way to glory."

That included his former brothers and sisters. Whatever tools they became now, they allowed themselves to be. For that they could never be forgiven, unless it was by the Maker themselves.

"Perhaps if the leash is not held so tightly, they will calm down. Only time will tell. If they cannot handle it -- well, that is why the Order remains." There would not be another war, if he could help it. He did not want to watch his friends die once more.

There was a pause, before he stated quietly, "Ostwick was neutral throughout the war -- through the agreement of First Enchanter Lydia and my former Knight Commander. We did not want to spill the blood of one another, so we agreed to keep out of all hostilities. That was an understanding that held until the incident at the Temple of Sacred Ashes."

"How much do you think the Circles of Magi stole from what Tevinter had stolen before?" Knight-Enchanter is one of the more specialised disciplines within the Circle but she has stood in the ruins the elves left behind, when they had found a spirit waiting still with the sort of knowledge thought to be lost from all but a very few. Not her path but something she has never managed to forget. "Idiots is one word but to have ensnared so many speaks to his cunning. If he truly is what he claims to be then we would all do well to remember how far the Imperium reached once and it was not solely down to magic alone. They had minds sharp as any blade."

Not that she would ever endorse the magisters but if one wishes to learn of the ancient elves, one ends up wading through much of what they can gain from Tevinter sources. It makes their enemy all the more dangerous though she doubts he truly needs extra caution given that their Herald has already been laid to rest.

"But will it? There are those who may see this as the time to change much more than mages and to many, your Order have abandoned the people and the very Chantry itself in their darkest hour. There would be much to atone for in the eyes of not only the faithful but the people themselves." Slapping Revered Mothers in Val Royeaux and then going on the march? Aligning themselves to Corypheus instead of remaining as the swords and shields to defend the whole world against corrupt magical forces? There may well be baying for blood.

It surprises her to hear such, but then she's only really heard of Circles and violence between the Templars and mages: Kinloch Hold, Kirkwall, the White Spire itself. She sighs quietly, folding and refolding her arms as she glances back out to see if any of the audience lingers. "I take it that after the Temple, such an accord broke down?"

"Well if we are going to go that far back - we have all stolen to the elves, so we should give it all back. Considering what a mess it all is now, I am not sure they want it." Is Norrington's dry response, but it changes as he considers the history of the Tevinter Imperium. That madman could do it, drag them all back into the belly of that particular beast. "Is yours as sharp, madam? Because if it is not ... well. I know mine is."

If not his mind, his blade, and if not that - sheer determination. He would not fall, and he would not allow Thedas to fall either. Their Herald died for this - he could do her no greater honor than to carry on in her name.

"I ... am not arguing that in the slightest, madam. I know we have our sins to atone for. I know that we have all come here to try and absolve those sins. I believe how far we come in the people's eyes will be from hard work, and dedication. Not warring amongst ourselves anymore. We need to bring peace back to Thedas. Order would be nice -- but I shall settle for the first."

He can see her surprise - and he smiles bitterly, "No, it held. It held until one of the First Enchanter's apprentices murdered her to spark a revolt. It lasted until she then turned on our Knight Commander. I spent that day drenched in the blood of friends, of family. I kept mages from killing brother and sister mages, and my own templar bretheren from losing complete control overthemselves. I do not want to go back."

He never wanted to go back.

"You might be surprised," she murmurs, because eluvians are worth such a risk when there was that one that sickened to young elves of a single clan simply from touching it. To have a Templar speak to her thus is a surprise, though not unwelcome if they're all meant to be on the same side, at least until the Inquisition's goal is accomplished and she allows a small smile in his direction. "You are bold, for one of your order, I have survived the Fifth Blight from where it started, and I am no mage of a Circle, there are no fears to be found there."

She had Kieran to consider, Kieran and the destiny he would have, and as always there was keeping one step ahead of her mother for as long as possible, and though Flemeth could appear to be whatever she pleased to visitors, she knew her. She knew her far too well to ever rest easy.

"Now that they have known freedom, perhaps having tasted blood in the fight for it, there is no way that the world will be as it was before. Change is coming, things have awoken that have not been glimpsed in so very long - since the time of the first Inquisition or even further again, there is no recorded mention of anyone such as the rifters; for all the rumours of them being demons, we know that enough to be merely rumour. But when you say you do not want to go back, does that mean to a Circle or to whatever your Order will shape itself into?"

"I am not entirely sure I can be surprised by this world any longer." Norrington mused, "But then again, I have lived in the time of a Blight, a two civil wars, the return of the dragons and giant Rift in the sky. Perhaps impossible is how we shall all survive this." He looks up at her, his gaze narrowing when she calls him bold, told him that she survived the Fifth Blight where it started, but was no mage of the Circle. If that was the case - the Blight started in the Kothcari Wilds. "...You're her, aren't you? You're Morrigan."

Never was there ever a more famous apostate. Yet ... "I thought you had disappeared. No one has seen you for years."

He is quiet then, considering. The world was much changed, from where it was a year ago - five years, ten years ago. The Blight had changed them all, irrevocably. "We cannot go back to a Circle for there are none. And if the Chantry wishes to have it's Templars back -- I am starting to see that we will all be on more equal footing. The mages, the Templars, the Chantry, all answering to the next Divine. Whomever she may be. Of course I could be horribly wrong and we'll all be at each other's throats again -- but I know I will form an Order based on what I have known, and not what has been passed down. Relive the past, you are doomed to repeat it."

"Say that and you tempt fate and a more fickle mistress you cannot hope to find." It's better to be on the fringes of the world sometimes, to slip in and out of affairs as you please to avoid the worst of it though witches always find their proper place in such affairs, because they're needed whether anyone knows or cares to admit to that or not. Being recognised is always a risk now that she's back on much more familiar ground and being coy is only for fun and out of habit so she inclines her head, wondering what stories might go through his head when he says her name. "I am indeed, of the Korcari Wilds."

Once. No more. Never again.

"I went to a place few would ever think to look for me and indeed, it proved most successful though it seems the Warden I journeyed with knows even more of that than I. I arrived only recently from Orlais," she explains, the small smile but never fading because from the swamps to the halls of palaces almost stretches credulity, even for her. It's why it worked after all.

"There's the matter of the lyrium - can you all break away from that for good? There are many who will resist, there are many more who would gladly take your places to serve as examples and Kirkwall could repeat itself again only on a much wider scale this time. I can hardly imagine the Circles being dissolved for good and the reshaping of the Templars but that could be the folly of man: we say we will be better, yet each time that comes to pass...Perhaps should we all survive the final Blights if there is one for each Old God and if the Qunari invasion never manifests."

"Well, it isn't as if I haven't been dancing with fate for some time. The steps are all too familiar." Norrington's green eyes narrowed on her thoughtfully, before he stated with no little wry humor, "You know, you are the only apostate we are not allowed to track down. Perhaps, ever. That was how large yours, and Enchanter Wynne's, contributions were to saving Thedas. First Enchanter Lydia used to speak of you as an example of all mages could accomplish, no matter where they were from."

Which he was fairly certain she would not take as a compliment.

He paused for a moment, arching both eyebrows together, "The Warden ... are you talking of the Hero of Fereldan?" Another twitch up there, with those eyebrows, "...and from there, Orlais. Gracious."

Something in his expression darkened a touch at the mention of abstaining from lyrium - he could handle his lyrium, thank you. "Why would we need to? There is no reason to cut ourselves off from one of our most valued tools. Besides, we cannot use our abilities without them and they are more necessary now than ever." He paused, listening to her very ... bleak future predictions, before he answered wryly, "Lady Morrigan, has anyone ever told you how optimistic you are?"

He shook his head, "Impractical as it may seem, my Lady, we have to change. There is no other path forward than change. Corpheyus wanted to change the world - well he has succeeded. Just not in the way he considered." Yet it had started years ago, and that one spark started an inferno. "... No one wants to re-live the mistakes of years past. History should stand as a reminder, not a how-to guide to further destruction."

The thought of Circle mages speaking well of her when she thinks little of them if she thinks of them at all is somehow disquieting, to be used as an example in such a manner. It was in a Circle tower she discovered a grimoire thought lost that she carries with her to this day, unwilling to let it linger anywhere for fear of losing it once again. "I have been evading Templars since before many of them were even old enough to say their vows, should they have come haunting my steps. Do not forget that in Orlais, the Free Marches are considered provincial, Templars so close to the heart of the Chantry have always been somewhat different to all others."

Not that any of that mattered in the end, only insomuch as change itself mattered. She gives no answer to his words beyond a smile that could mean anything; her time with the Warden was long ago now, both of them got what they needed and prior to his disappearance he ruled a country and she raised a child and spoke in the ear of the Empress of the most powerful nation in Thedas.

"Knowing what lyrium does to you and your fellows? Tell me, what happens to Templars not fortunate enough to be taken into a Chantry somewhere to live out their last years, hungry for more? Change sets a person free - for the first time in so long that opportunity is there for those who dare to seize it." Much will depend on learning more about the red lyrium but she's glad she grew up without it for the most part. "Such an accusation has been levelled at me many times," she sighs, not even bothering to hide that she's rolling her eyes but try having to deal with who she did during the Blight and their attempts at 'humour' and see how much patience you have left.

"How poorly history is remembered for it is written by the victors and whispered by the last survivors. Like the Fade, it warps itself to the minds and tongues that think of it and speak it."

Norrington snorted softly, as he rubbed his hair for a moment, his voice quiet as he commented, "We are no more provincial than the Fereldans, and from there, the Avvar. The fact that Orlais considers us 'provincial' either doesn't speak well for the rest of the world or as I have always thought, says something decidedly untoward about Orlais." He paused, then stated simply, "Although I am certain that in the White Spire? You were a very large concern."

Well, that smile was somewhat telling, as it told nothing at all. He arched an eyebrow at her, but decided it wasn't worth pursuing. After all, it wasn't his business to pry into the personal life of heroes.

He pressed his lips together, green eyes sharp, but he couldn't deny that. Those who finally retired, if they lived long enough to retire, were always hungry. He did not take lyrium on the side, as some had, but he had taken plenty. "And where precisely, will we find the power we need to help suppress and dispel magic? Or is that something you are looking for all Templars to lose?" His mouth twisted as she rolled her eyes. Patience, after all, was a virtue.

"Then how can you trust the accounts of elven history in which yourself have discovered? Besides, behind every lie, there is some form of the truth." He gestured his hand, "Either in the tale, or in the telling."

"Have you not heard? We of Ferelden are one bad day from descending into scrabbling clans once again, though the Orlesians even with the Game resemble spoiled infants. I am sure I was, and Montsimmard given Vivienne." After all, Morrigan had been intrigue enough coming from outside of a Circle with none of the bias to easily find her place at the side of the empress, dressing too darkly and shunning masks, never once bothering to do as they did and yet she had noticed when the fashions had changed to follow her own dress by the next ball or party or engagement or whatever it had been.

"Must it always be looked at as loss and gain? Is that not too simple a way to look at the world? How much have we lost when we see things only as one thing or the other?" Not a deflection, not entirely - she could do without them, mages beyond those who had bought into the lies the Chantry told them could do without it unless, but they did have some uses. "There was a time before your order ever existed and mages, demons, abominations, all were fought then, even the maleficar of Tevinter were fought then."

There are always older things than the Chantry though most have never cared to remember much before Andraste was burned in her book.

"I have been to the ruins, I have studied the very source as well as what came after. How much of your Chantry laws and teachings come from after Andraste and not from her, hmm?"

"Well there you have it. Clearly we should never believe the Orlesians say. Especially when they spend so much time lying to one another about how they are the most civilized." Ah, cultural snobbery. Still alive and well in the Dragon Age. Still, Norrington couldn't say that he really cared one way or another.

"Well that is quite true. Of course in those days we were given a great deal more freedom to be as brutal as we wanted. We had to be, to match blood magic." He thought about it, rubbing his chin. "However, if we broke the cycle of distrust with mages, and worked together with them instead, we could in fact come together to stop more blood mages, demons, and maelificarium than before."

He frowned for a moment, before he stated simply, "We honestly don't know. But you cannot tell me that all of Andraste's teachings weren't based on her own beliefs. After all, she was an Avvar tribeswoman, and they don't write to begin with. They consider him weak."

"Tis not brutality that blood magic comes from; magic requires creation, it requires one to ask a question and wish to answer it. Blood magic does rather vary by definition," she continues, "after all there is more than what Tevinter has practiced, and arguably magic is in the blood in the first place. The Chantry can hardly say much when they take the blood of young mages for the phylacteries. I do not hold with those who sway minds and bleed their slaves but you could shout and plead for lifetimes before anything would change. The Qunari could have swept over all of Thedas before you even changed the minds of a half of the folk."

Not even the mage-templar war can force the issue, not when much of it is so very very old, the primal fears lurking in the shadows and distant corners, mostly forgotten. Change, it always comes back to change.

Whatever it was they saw when finding the ashes, it was compelling. The shadows of the dead, the riddles they posed and how many of the faithful would even believe that any had witnessed such a thing in the first place. "Too much has come since her death - she was a barbarian, a former slave, not the one who stands in all the statues or painted in the portraits. But then the Chantry has forgotten Shartan and even in Chantries far from the Grand Cathedral, the Game follows. Could anyone even tell who truly believes and who simply wishes to be the one with the most power and influence over Thedas?"

"Well, that is why I believe we need to return the Templar Order to the days where we simply hunted dangerous mages. So few understand the differences between normal kinds of magic, much less blood magic." He paused, then stated firmly, "I will never say that we ourselves are not users of what we should stand again -- but now with the White Spire destroyed and the phylacteries with it, perhaps we now have a chance to put all of that behind us. As Templars, and mages." He stood up, looking at her gravely, "I do not need to change everyone's mind. I just need to change enough minds to begin the pebble rolling down the mountain. The avalanche will come long after I myself am ash and dust, but it will happen."

He tilts his head at her, and states simply, "I believe. And I believe that others believe. I believe there are other people out there who think the same thing. You do not believe, and that is your choice. My choice is to see the Maker's light in everything."

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Blood Magic - 101

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