Leaving the cozy apartment and bidding farewell to the inhabitants of it, she turned towards a less familiar locale. One she had only recently obtained from the hacker, but sometimes she needed to be able to get in touch with her regardless of time of day (or night). It was strange to be coming with the intention of giving a gift as opposed to asking for information or providing information she had discovered. That seemed to be the main stay of their working relationship; knowledge and the sharing of it.
She was energetic and bouncing. Remembering her lessons, she quieted her magical expenditures that were leaking all over registering red flags for anyone that could interpret the fade waves. It usually seemed to upset those that could see her reckless abandon of magic floating about her like an aura. But, in the forest, it was rarely, if ever, needed. Swiftly rapping on the door, she took a step back to look about before the door was swung wide and she was allowed in.
The best thing about Morrigan was there was never any need for fancy greetings or occurrences. “I got you something. Well, made you something.” She slipped the bag off her shoulder and splayed it on top of the nearest open surface reaching in to grab the small case. “It’s amazing what you can do with a little earth and some of the shellfish around the wounded coast.” An impish grin crossed her features as she passed the case over to Morri.
Cocking her head to one side and arching a brow, Morrigan ran her fingers over the case sensing a delicate touch of magic emanating from within. Splitting the case on its side, she cracked it open to reveal a string of pearls. Merrill opened her mouth immediately to start explaining though she was certain it was unnecessary, “Pearls as you many know have many –“
“You have my thanks Merrill. I am fully aware of what pearls are capable of. The gift is much appreciated but unnecessary.” She interjected without allowing the elf to finish her lengthy explanation. Even still she was pleased that Morrigan at least considered and accepted them. Packing up her bag, she bid the witch farewell seeking her next encounter.
6, 17: Kirkwall is in chaos; the war has begun, and one of Marian's siblings has gone missing.
6. A drabble about the first time I killed someone.
“I was trained in combat ever since I can remember. Malcolm saw fit to that, and I was happier being able to defend myself. But, even with all that practice, you never forget the feeling of life seeping from a body you’ve just killed.” A visible shudder passed through her body recalling the event.
“It wasn’t until the Blight that I actually took a life for the first time, an actual human life that is. Sure, I had killed birds, wolves, deer, and even a bear with a little magical assistance from my brother, but never another human.” A soft sigh slipped from her lips. “When the first wave of darkspawn hit the town, the guards didn’t know what to do. They were prepared for bandits and burglars, but with the army at the south, they were not expecting darkspawn. It baffles me still that we weren’t prepared.” She shook her head from side to side before continuing.
“The groups took out a few of the guards that were doing the further patrols before they even had a chance to signal for the town alarms, but the few that were stationed closer to town managed to get that off before the major attacks. Anyone that could wield a weapon was called in to the defense of the city, but I happened to already be out around town running errands with my daggers secured to my belt. So, I had a head start on most. I reached the fighting guards first and joined in the fray.”
Raking a hand through her hair while she continued to speak, “But it was a bloody mess already. Most of the skilled guards had been sent to Ostagar to help the battle there. My fighting style led me to bounce around the battlefield in every direction using the tactical expertise that Malcolm taught me picking off the ranged and casters in the back before they had a good look at me. In one of my hiding spots behind the enemy lines, though, I found a wounded soldier. One from Ostagar I could only assume.”
Her face paled and her right hand slid to the dagger in her sheath, “He had been tainted and he was dying. The fear in the man’s eyes had turned to some sort of selfish hope. He begged me for a quick death just in case the taint caught up to him before he had a chance to die. He didn’t want to live with that curse; he didn’t want to add to their numbers.” Her hands joined together and wrung themselves together.
“I had never taken a life, but the man was desperate in his pleas, and I couldn’t turn him down. I made it as swift as I knew how, dagger straight through the heart while he held my arm loosely. The hand fell away as soon as the life slipped from his eyes. I felt his last breath exhale and his body go limp. It felt as if I could see his spirit leaving his body, but I know I could not. I was just imagining things.”
She shook her head ruefully. “It’s not something you forget, but I think it was the right thing to do. After that, I threw myself back into the fighting as I wanted to get the picture out of my head. But, later that night, I told father. He assured me that I did the right thing that I had done good even if it felt bad. I’ve taken more lives since then. Most, I don’t even remember. But, you never forget the first one.”
17. Kirkwall is in chaos; the war has begun, and one of my siblings has gone missing.
The war had broken out overnight. There wasn’t any warning that it was going to ignite, though there had been plenty of warning that it was stewing. She had been at the clinic, and when the injuries started pouring in, she had called the house immediately without any answer. The next three calls went to cell phones, but of course, they all went straight to voicemail where she left the urgent message on each one. But, by the time she had dropped her phone back into her pocket, the number of people in the clinic had tripled. She went to work as quickly as possible trying to help with wounds she could handle (and some she couldn’t).
The nightmare only continued with injuries getting worse and sometimes casualties even before they had a chance to get to them. It truly felt like a hopeless combat triage situation. Finally, she took charge of the waiting room assigning the few volunteers to categorizing patients based on need trying to get those that had to have healing magic to Anders, if he was able to hold out through the strain. But, even that seemed to be failing as the body count rose; she worried more and more about her own family. With the near hopeless situation surrounding the clinic, her eyes met Anders for a brief second.
She heard him speak the word “Go.” That was all she needed from him. He knew that she was silently dying inside not knowing what was going on with her own family, and though she felt awful for abandoning the clinic, there was little she could do for the people that were coming in. The injuries were too severe for her skills, but maybe not for Bethany’s if she could find her. Immediately she stuck to the shadows, slinking around combat and dangerous areas heading straight towards the apartment. To her relief, there was no combat she had to encounter herself before reaching the complex.
Taking the stairs nearly three at a time, she reached the door and swiftly unlocked it, racing inside to see Bethany and Garrett staring down at a piece of paper mouths agape. Without a word she knew what it had said, but she grabbed it anyway.
Gone to fight a war. Might bring home some money.
-C.
Swiftly ducking into the shadows as she descended the stairs Gare hot on her heels, she sprinted towards the heavier fighting areas. It didn’t matter which one, she knew he would be where he was needed most, and most likely to get killed at that. It was what drove her to run, and what caused Garrett to lose track of her. Though the family was good at knowing where she was around them, when she left their vicinity, they were as blind as everyone else to her movements. He could probably guess where she was going, but she hypothesized that he would turn and go to the clinic; just as she would drag Carver too later.
It took several heavy combat zones before she found him, bleeding from just about every orifice plus a few new ones, but charging around like a maniac using his tactical knowledge as an advantage, but still fighting warriors that had more experience than he. She couldn’t stand it, and immediately joined in the battle taking each of his targets by surprised striking vital areas with her daggers and parrying attacks that were meant to connect with vital areas of her brother’s body.
He would live because it was HER job to kill him, not theirs.
She glowered at him throughout the combat, taking stock of every one of his injuries seeing his movements hindered by the slight limp in his foot that was due in part to the large gash in his lower leg. He fought bravely, but without treatment himself and a reprieve, he too would be another body in the count. But, he was stubborn enough not to realize that until it was too late. As the fighting spread to other areas as the main force skirted around their defensive position or chose other routes, she finally managed to catch Carver by the back of his collar.
When he came to a stop from the halting jerk, he nearly collapsed. As she thought, his adrenaline and momentum were the only things keeping him in motion. His cry of pain from his leg was audible from a bit away, and it was starting to attract combatants to his weakened state. He was coming with her whether she had to drag him or not.
The sun was just cresting the walls allowing some light to flood into the lowtown choke point, but the streets were painted a new hue with crimson stains and dead bodies lying about. She practically began to drag her brother towards the clinic in darktown. After a few protests about standing and fighting, she threatened him.
“Carver, if you don’t come with me willingly, I’m going to knock you out and drag your body there the rest of the way. You can barely walk as it is with that wound and you’ve got more of your blood on you than you realize. So, do you want a splitting headache on top of everything else?”
After a few choice words that about him being a man and fighting a war and making his own choices, she decided it would be the latter. He didn’t make it easy dodging and parrying her hilt, but eventually with an apology whispered in his ear, she connected it and his body slumped to the pavement where she proceeded to find something slightly more mobile to roll his body around in. The best thing she found was a discarded skateboard missing a wheel, but she managed to arrange his weight appropriately and grab his arm to get him rolling. The hardest part was avoiding combat.
Roughly three hours later, she ended up safely at the clinic to reunite the family to which Bethany swiftly handled all his wounds after placing him under a sleep spell so that he wouldn’t wake up trying to run back out into the war zone after being drug here to safety. He could hate her later, but he was safe; they were all safe. Garrett even had news of Gamlen and Leandra’s safety, which took another weight off her shoulder. Slumping into Garrett’s arms, she passed out due to exhaustion.
"My last phone call was from KPD Detective Ryleigh. The contents of that call I have no interest in discussing, but it was not pleasant." Tilting his head, he eyes the woman in front of him with curiosity. "Why?"
17. Laughed until you cried
"Laughing so hard there were tears in my eyes?" He shakes his head ruefully. "It’s been far too long, and I don’t want to think back on those times just at this moment. I have once, but not this year." His rueful glance turns somber as his thoughts attempt to trail back to olden days before he corrects their path.
37. Nicknames
"I have a few. Fergie is one that only Elissa is allowed to use. Bryson is another that I was called when I was younger in reference to being Bryce’s son as I grew people decided to shorten it and the nickname stuck in certain circles. Commander C, Commander F, and Warden have all been used before, but I’m not certain anyone would consider those nicknames." He shrugs and grins.
63. Waiting for
Contemplating for a moment, his eyes grow very cold and distant, “I’m waiting for my world to end. It’s tenuously held together at the present, and without much pressure applied in either direction, the house of cards I’ve built myself might come toppling down.” Releasing a deeply drawn breath, he lightens the tone, “In other news, I’m waiting for an answer that might change my house of cards into a bit more structured with two pillars instead of one.” His eyes look out to the horizon, “But, that is not going to come quite as soon as I hope.”
What is it that you most value? If we were somehow able to reconstruct the Eluvian, what would you do with it?
Looking down at her hands, she begins, “There are many things I value, but I am not sure which I value above the others. Knowledge, especially about the Elgarlin, Eluvian, and Arlathan is very high on the list. Freedom to walk around without worrying about being placed within the stone towers by some force appointed by a religion I don’t believe in is definitely high as well. Wisdom to use the knowledge I obtain wisely ranks up there as well. Safety is something that I have recently learned to value rather highly after losing clan and the relative security of the city. I think those are all fairly even, though I’m sure some look vastly more important to others.”
As the Eluvian topic was broached, she slipped back into her thoughts a moment before answering, “I would go through it to find Tamlen and see what was on the other side of that mirror. I mean there would obviously be some testing to be done to make certain it was safe beforehand, but who wouldn’t be curious about what was on the other side? My main reason for collecting the fragments was Tamlen, though. And, if he can be brought back from wherever the Eluvian has taken him that is my main goal. Exploring where the newly restored artifact can take us is secondary, but I believe it will need to be done in order to find Tamlen to being with. So, it is definitely important.” Her mind continued to run through all the possibilities that could occur from having a working Eluvian.
My ability to lead under pressure would be my first choice. I believe that I have saved more men than I’ve lost due to that. If you want a trait that doesn’t involve combat, I would have to say my pride. Many people call that a fault, but I find people tend to work harder and better for something they are proud of.
What is your biggest pet peeve?
Subtle manipulation. I have had my eyes on political intrigue since I was a babe suckling at my mother’s breasts. The fact that some people have the audacity to try and pull one over on me when I can see the pieces being nudged and the plays being set into motion is something I can’t stand for and often deter much to their owners chagrin. Otherwise, I’d have to say the warden’s at the outpost that don’t flush.
How do you typically dress?
Typically, I’m in some warden getup. Restricting denim pants that are reinforced for absorbing blows, some thick weave gray shirt with the blue insignia of the Wardens on it, sturdy steel toed reinforced combat boots, my warden necklace, and usually some sort of under armor (depending on the enemy it might be bullet-proof or it might be some sort of mail), and usually a pair of leather gloves and jacket, both tend to be black, but I have brown as well.
Orsino was going stir crazy in the Gallows. It had been a few weeks since his last outing, and though he had nowhere to go and no good reason to go anywhere, he wanted out for a day. Checking the roster for the week, he noted that Cullen had been on duty since the early morning hours and was probably taking his break in the lunch room conveniently. Shutting down his computer, he meandered to the lunch area approaching him with his usual gruff. He managed to actually make the Knight-Captain glower at him, but in the end, he finished his meal and met him in the hallway to escort him to the HighTown library.
After nearly two months, he still didn’t feel comfortable treading HighTown without an escort, and though that worried Meredith and he imagined Cullen, some. They always were happy to find someone to take him to where he needed to go and come get him when he was done. Once he was indoors, he didn’t feel the need for a ‘body guard’. They would simply be a distraction, so only someone to guide him along the way.
The draw of blood magic still called to him, but after his dinner at Ellie’s, it was an ever present ache in his body that simply wouldn’t go away but was easily ignored. Cullen shot him a wary look as he left him at the entrance to the library. But noted that he would be back to retrieve him at the appointed time. Ever mindful of their supposed nature with each other, he bickered about not needing a babysitter. After slipping in the door, he actually breathed a sigh of relief that another trip to HighTown had been uneventful. He was beginning to think it was silly to have an escort at all anymore.
But, that was another reason he had made this trip today. There were whispers throughout the history of the Chantry of magi that could shape shift with metamorphosis into other creatures in order to facilitate travel, escape, and sensory perception. It was said that one of the magi from the Ferelden circle, a woman named Wynne could even do such things, but after repeated requests and refusals, he had given up on that avenue.
Today, he would be delving into the computer system away from the Gallows to try and find any information that could get him started in learning this technique. Sliding into one of the computer chairs in the back corner of the room, he chanted a privacy spell that surrounded him causing anyone that was not looking precisely for him, to see nothing more than the computer being occupied. Safely behind his web of magic, he opened his search engine and began to type in queries.
After a few tries, he managed to stumble onto a page that seemed promising entitled: Metamorphosis: Understanding the Basic Concepts of Shape shifter Magics. The URL seemed iffy, but he decided to click it anyway. Some of the basic principles of magic seemed to be intact, but he wasn’t certain that those particular ones would achieve the results that he sought after. Returning to his initial query, he scrolled down to look for different sites that contained more pertinent information.
His eyes stopped the scroll on a page entitled: Shapeshifting, Lycanthrophy, and Metamorphosis. Clicking on that link sent him to a site that seemed to be encrypted. Try as he might, he could not decrypt the page. As he was going to close the window and go back to the search bar, his eyes caught a pattern. It was easy to see once you knew what you were looking for. There were shape shifting symbols surrounding letters that spelled out a completely new URL.
He paused for a moment considering the implications of his next action. But, deciding that the Templars were not quite savvy enough to entrap magi with such devices, he entered the new URL into the browser. Within moments he was redirected to a blank command prompt. Blinking a few times to make certain there was no trick to this, he waited. After nothing happened for about five minutes, he typed in a single phrase.
If someone were looking to learn, would there be a way to teach the art of shape shifting to another?
After pressing the enter button, he awaited his response that may, or may not, ever come.
Merrill was feeling analytical as she foraged around the desolate dig site. She had picked this site mainly because there was hardly ever any wanders, so the artifacts she hid here were relatively safe. The shards of the Eluvian still resided within their deerskin bag buried beneath the sleeping bag inside the tent then covered over with magic so that it appeared as though nothing were out of the ordinary. Chances were, no one but her would ever find them.
After a painstaking extraction, she pulled the bag free slipping on a pair of gloves so that she could remove the shards without being corrupted. Her thoughts roaming back to that night at the bar. After examination, Morrigan might have a place to store these shards that would make her feel safer than having them this far out of reach constantly. And, what was that about her allies? Who was she referring to? Could it be Velanna? It wasn’t long before the shards had all been laid out upon the ground in disarray, but it took her reaching into the bag again before she realized it was empty.
She gazed at the puzzle pieces that lie in front of her. “It was an Eluvian once,” she thought. Piling some logs into the fire pit, she tossed a fireball into the logs and set it ablaze. Then, she set about the task of recreating the mirror. She really hadn’t thought of trying to do that before, but it seemed like a good idea. The first step, of course, was to find all the outside edge fragments to make the border; easier said than done. The way the mirror had shattered left much to the imagination as to how it fit back together.
Within minutes, Merrill had given up and started preparations for tea and writing notes in her log regarding her lack of spatial analysis. She was expecting Morrigan at any time. Before they had left the bar, the Tenth Day had been decided upon at whatever time she could manage to make it out to the dig site. Her actually making it there wasn’t in question, but they had never settled on a definite when.
Staring into the blaze of the fire, she remembered the dreams she’d been having lately. Her, Tamlen, and Mahariel together, each of their faces took a turn in the fire. She missed them both dearly, but she had hope that she’d find them both in the end, and with Morrigan’s assistance, input, and contacts, the odds definitely increased. Her thoughts started to meld with the fire, allowing everything to blur and jumble.
One thing was clear in her head; however, it was more evident than ever that things were headed in the right direction.
-The proverbial little bird has recently told me that you are involved with the Underground. I must say, I never took you for such a… philanthropist.
-How – never mind. I do not wish to know. Say what you would say and be brief.
-I have relevant information of a time-sensitive nature that I believe will interest you.
-…Damnation. I am out of the city at present. How sensitive?
-Two days at most, and further legwork may be required to act on it.
-I am sending you an encrypted message immediately after this with directions to a location in Darktown. If your information is truly relevant, go there; speak to Anders. You may tell him that I sent you. He will be able to make use of it. I will see that you are compensated when I return.
That text message exchange had been positively friendly, by Morrigan’s standards. Zevran smirked as he retrieved and decrypted the message she had referred to, nodding to himself. The name Anders was one he had heard once or twice in connection to the Mage Underground, though he had never had cause to meet the man, himself. The fact that Morrigan had sent Zevran to him without a second thought, to all appearances, meant that he was likely the person who had recruited her – and that made this person very interesting to the assassin, on a point of personal curiosity if nothing else.
The irascible witch was not exactly known for playing well with others.
Zevran had not been exaggerating on the time-sensitive nature of his intel, so he closed his laptop and was out of his apartment and walking swiftly toward Darktown inside of five minutes. It had come to his attention that a small group of very young apprentices were to be transferred from the Starkhaven Circle to the Kirkwall one in the immediate future, evidently due to a shortage of both housing and qualified instructors at the former. He had not been completely certain that Morrigan would find that worth her time, but he rather expected that this Anders would, regardless.
The place Morrigan sent him to turned out to be the Darktown free clinic, which the assassin had never visited, but did know of. It made no small amount of sense that one of the presumed cornerstones of the Underground would be based here, he supposed. The place stood out like a homely beacon in the early-evening Darktown gloom, its single lit lantern directing him to the door. After a short, near-automatic check for covert observers, Zevran slipped inside.
