@tiredtruffle — Morrigan + Alim Surana, back to back in a fight against Darkspawn
CW: darkspawn violence, battle injury, impalement, body horror-adjacent magic
Dragon Age | New Bad Beginning (NBB)
Note:
The exact “back to back” shape belongs to another scene already used elsewhere, so I’m taking the cleaner non-repeat match: Morrigan and Alim trapped in the same collapsing fight, holding the same impossible edge while darkspawn climb toward them. It is not heroic in the polished sense. It is exhaustion, bad choices, frost on steel, a mage on the verge of collapse, and Morrigan deciding that survival may demand something worse than death.
Suledin. Din’anshiral.
Excerpt:
Still pale but steady, the elf nodded—no fainting in his plans. They slid down the ladder to find Alistair braced at the stairwell, the thunder of approaching darkspawn echoing upward. Battle had come to them.
Morrigan tossed over her shoulder:
— Don’t die.
Morrigan approached Alistair and, moving slowly to avoid startling him, touched his blade. A simple spell rippled across the metal, coating it in frost as if freshly pulled from a winter gale. The warrior acknowledged the aid with a curt nod. Alim, wrapped in shimmering magical and spiritual wards, attempted a grim joke:
— Heard tales in camp about the legendary Witch of Korkari. They say she could call lightning upon her enemies. Perhaps we’re fortunate to have such company?
The witch nearly agreed—then froze mid-breath, struck by uncertainty. Racing through her memory, she realized the lightning spell’s sequence had vanished, feeding fresh paranoia. The hours spent mastering it felt intact, yet the spell itself... as if those efforts had evaporated. What else had been lost during those blank hours? With a noncommittal nod to Alim, she steeled herself for battle.
A minute and a half later, the first three genlocks appeared on the lower floor. Clad in rusted mail and wielding jagged blades, they charged up the stairs with startling speed. The spell on Alistair’s blade hurled the lead creature backward—bones crunched as it tumbled down—marking the fight’s start.
Morrigan clenched her fist and hissed through gritted teeth:
— Tua vita mea esté.
Something intangible brushed the charging genlock—like a ripple on water—before its sword plunged into her abdomen to the hilt, dragging her back a step with a choked cry of pain. Though Alim roared in fury, Alistair was locked in his own struggle. Genlocks in melee were deadlier than they were at range, especially armed and armored. Deflecting thrusts with his shield, barely dodging, the blond bided his time—then ducked low and surged forward. A shield bash to the gut, a stab to the thigh, and he flung his opponent down the stairs after the first.
Turning, he witnessed something unnatural: Morrigan, impaled and smiling horribly, cradled the kneeling genlock’s head as she whispered:
— Fríos. Tenací.
Frost crawled over the creature’s skull beneath her fingers. It collapsed, sword clattering free. She yanked the blade from her belly—barely a trickle of blood now—and tossed it aside.
— Leave this one. It’ll serve as a... well of life.
Five more genlocks reached the third floor. An archer loosed at Alistair—the only visible armed target—forcing him to dodge right, slamming into the wall. Alim managed to hurl one attacker downstairs, his ragged breathing betraying his limits.
Alistair whirled, using foes as shields against the archer. Morrigan, exploiting her staff’s reach, speared a genlock’s eye, then bludgeoned it senseless. Slipping from the archer’s sight, she repeated her freezing spell on the stunned creature.
Before Alistair could fully use one darkspawn as cover, a hilt struck his jaw twice in the scrum. He retaliated—kicking both genlocks down the stairs—then spat blood and retreated from arrow range.
— Our time’s running out.
Panting, he checked his grip and squinted upward.
— Dark’s falling.
Two genlocks and another archer burst onto the landing. Alistair and Morrigan split, complicating their aim—but the archer targeted the swaying elf. Without hesitation, Morrigan incanted:
— Somnia dirae tenebrae, animus furenté!
A wave of translucent gloom flashed through the room. The effect was more than she’d hoped for: the archer flailed at invisible threats; one genlock froze; the other stumbled backward down the stairs. Alistair seized the opening—running one through the neck, shield-bashing the second, then finishing it on the floor.
— Can’t... huff... help but wonder. Got more tricks like last night’s?
Morrigan shot him a glare, fatigue now plain.
— Honesty will kill you.
— Bit late for warnings.
A thunder of footsteps echoed below—dozens, plus an ogre’s heavy tread. Morrigan hissed:
— Remember your vow at the ruins? To protect? Your hour’s come. Delay them. Even a minute.
— Got a plan?
— An idea. We’ll see what it costs me.
He readied his blade.
— Still better than ‘we die now.’
Alistair clenched his teeth and took position at the stairwell, his attention wholly consumed by the approaching footsteps below. Morrigan lingered for a moment on his tense back before turning to the elf who was clinging to consciousness by sheer will.
Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44396590 (Chapter 3) @thedasweekend
wait couldn’t the hound, in theory, extend their life significantly with their magic? Like with their resiliency and regeneration?
You'd think that, but no. In fact, the opposite happens.
Lore dump
Magic requires energy to be sustained, in the case of battle magic, since it enhances the user and has effect only on them, the energy it requires has to come from the mage. As such, fightings take a lot out of mages, and while they are insanely resistant to damage they often suffer from chronic fatigue and chronic pain after making too much use of their magic.
Magic, not just battle magic, can become stronger if the mage trains. But in the case of battle magic, since it takes so much from the user, it will slowly but surely wear their body down the more they use it. This very often leads to chronic conditions, joint damage/pain (MC's father has to use a cane) that can force the mage to use a wheelchair or to be bedbound (probably what will happen to Adrei in 15-20 years). Ultimately, battle mages tend to have a lower life expectancy due to this.
Slight spoilers for Morgana and her magic
Morgana's magic, contrary to battle magic, works on external elements and as such requires energy from the outside. Her type of magic is sustained by siphoning energy from all that the mage can reach. Plants, animals, even humans.
It doesn't wear down the user, but it can have heavy impacts on their mental stability.
It is said that one of the most powerful mages in existence made an entire forest die in order to summon a storm so powerful it destroyed the enemy's fortress leaving only ruins.
You Have My Attention: The Circle Reforged First Lines
Life doesn't go smoothly for Sandry, Daja, Briar, and Tris just because they've survived their first students, and Tamora Pierce's Circle Reforged books just highlight how life gets more difficult the more you see and the more you experience. And then you have to remember that the people who truly love you will still love you, even after...everything. So how does Pierce introduce these adventures to her readers?
Lady Sandrilene fa Toren sat in the room that was her study in her uncle's palace. In her hands she held a thread tcircle, one that included four lumps spaced equally apart. It was a symbol not just of her first magical working, but of the bond she shared with her foster-brother and two foster-sisters, who had been away from home for many months. Today was Sandry's birthday, and she missed them. Once she could have reached out through their connection without even touching the thread, and spoken with them, magic to magic, but not in the last two years. They had traveled far beyond reach, into lands and experiences Sandry couldn't share.
-- The Will of the Empress
"Hey, Kid--stop hanging off that rail!" A sailor, one of the women, was yelling at me. "We've only told you a dozen times! If you fall overboard, we'll not turn back!"
"Can ya swim all the way to the Battle Islands?" another sailor called. "If ya can't, ya'd best keep alla yerself on th' ship!"
"If I fall in, will I sink all the way to the bottom?" I yelled back.
-- Melting Stones
Two boy-men sat on the river's eastern bank, where an open-fronted tent gave them shelter from the chilly spring wind. It whistled down the canyon, making the banners around them snap.
Briar Moss was the older of the two, sixteen and a fully accredited mage of the Living Circle School in Emelan. He was the foreigner, his skin a light shade of bronze, his nose long and thin, his eyes a startling gray-green in this land of brown-eyed easterners.
so if the MC's eyes + surrounding veins and arms turn black while using their power, does that mean their blood turns black? imagine how cool it'd be if MC is shirtless and everyone can see the black beating heart under their skin bro
Yes! Their blood indeed turns black. Like the blood of other types of mages turns a different color shade
