Tranquility

by Konous the grey

The Rite takes away many things: it takes away our emotions, our desires, our dreams, even our Magic. What it does not take away are our Memories and our Identity. Those are unchanged. -Owain

1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, it is the property of Bioware.

Tranquility: Ch. 1 Something I Would Do

The Harrowing Chamber is just as Alim remembers from his Harrowing. The high arching ceiling, the wide circular stone floor, all of it etched with the inane markings that predate the Avvar tribesmen who once occupied Ferelden and built the Tower. In the past he had pondered on the meanings of the runes, no where found, even in the records of Tevinter scrolls from over a millenia ago or the archived letters of the dwarves. It used to frustrate him to no end that these carvings were ignored by The Circle of Magi, that as scholars they left the origin of the very tower which they lived in to complete secrecy of the unknown.

The Chamber would have haunted his thoughts, the mystery of who built the tower unsolved would have driven him mad, if he had the ability to feel haunted anymore.

"She's been gone in the Fade far too long, Irving." Gregoir paces back and forth, his heavy plate armor ringing on the cold stone floor.

"Be patient, Gregoir. Others have taken far longer than she has." Irving hovers to the left of Solona Amell, as though his presence next to the girl will compell Gregoir to stay his blade if she takes any longer.

"That is not the point!" The Knight Commander turns about heel and looks deep into Irving's eyes. "She is your star pupil, your second of which, and she has been in The Fade too long. Something has happened."

Irving gestures for his Templar compatriot to give him space. "I know you are feeling anxious, Gregoir but we must have faith that Solona will-"

Irving does not finish his sentence as a blinding light erupts from Solona and shoves the two heads of the Circle Tower to the floor. The dust and smoke clears and in Solona's place is hulking horror, an abomination, where the beautiful magess once sat. It raises its head and from the vacant eyes of the woman wrapped in macbre flesh and sinew, the mouth opens to let out a horrifying roar. "Auuuuuuuuuuuugggggggghhhhh!"

"Abomination!" Gregoir shouts and raises his greatsword. He swings a heavy horizontal arc to the side of the beats bulbous body.

A raised hand from the monster stays Gregoir's blade mid swing. The Templar struggles to pull the blade from an invisible grasp to no avail.

"Damn you!" The Knight Commander growls.

A sound from deep within the monster's body which could have been mistaken for a laugh, rises up from the throat and jiggles the writhing flesh of the creature. It raises its other hand and Gregoir sails across the room like a rag doll, hitting the far wall. The greatsword clattes to the ground at its feet. It stalks forward, hands in motion to cast another spell on the fallen Templar.

"Solona!"

The sounds of Irving's voice distracts the creature from its current prey. It turns around in time to be hit with Stone Fist to the face followedby Lightning and Winter's Grasp, yet still it stands and moves towards Irving at an even pace.

"Die, demon!" Irving backs away from the monster, casting every single target spell he can muster. His specialty however had always lain in the Spirit and Creation schools and his spells continue to have no effect. In his hands he gathers a ball of spirit energy and imagines wrapping it about the abomination. "Hurrrah!" Letting his Crushing Prison come full force down on the monster. His face cannot contain his surprise as Irving falls back a step when the monster shrugs it off.

When Solona reaches him, it grasps Irving's throat between its clawed hands and lifts him into the air.

The First Enchanter grips the claws around his throat and lets out a horse cough, muddled with spit and flegm and blood. He looks into the eyes of his formal pupil; he looks for any sign of the girl he helped raise from the time she was a child. All he sees in the eyes of the beast is not some deep seeded rage, but pride. "Solona, please." Irving begs.

The abomination's grip tightens.

A ringing rush of air cuts through all sound. A brief moment of silence following it, the smell of open flesh and dripping demonic ichor.

The abomination drops Irving, who lands on the ground uncerimoniously on his back and hits his head. The beast twists around, spasming as it turns it's head a hundred and eighty degrees, and stares at the impish figure standing behind it.

Alim Surana's face is unflinching as he shoves Gregoir's greatsword deeper into the abominations back. The blade drips with the blood of the beast running down its length and falling to the floor at the hilt.

The creature gurgles from inside itself and grips the point of the blade and shoves it out of its body. It hobbles to turn around and face Alim, head rotating back into place. It's yellow eyes look into Alim's as though it is searching for a reason why. Why, for this...betrayal?

Alim's face does not flinch at the abominations accusations. Instead he lift up Gregoir's greatsword and swings.

The creature does not stop it and the blade acts as more a slab of metal than a sharpened wedge and knocks Solona down as it cuts open the body in a shower of blood.

Alim looks down. Some of the blood got on his shoes.

Gregoir and Irving rouse themselves from the floor and hobble over to the abomination's corpse.

"Another mage succumbs to temptation." Gregoir says and frowns at the body.

"Solona falling to the demons is a...disheartening event. I will inform the other apprentices. They'll want to hear the circumstances from me. Solona was much loved in the Circle."

"Indeed. But it seems that love went over her head. She should have been more aware of her emotions and her pride." Gregoir finally turns to Alim. "Thankfully, at least one of our pupils has learned that lesson, even if it required such drastic measures. Alim, thank you."

"It was something I would do, Knight Commander. Solona was my friend as well, before my Rite. I would have wanted this."

"All the same, thank you." Gregoir reaches out for his sword and Alim returns to the blade to the Knight Commander's hands. "I will call for Cullen to clean this up." Gregoir motions for Irving to follow him.

"We are lucky she was just an apprentice. A pride demon possessing a full powered mage could be...unstoppable." Irving hobbles next to his compatriot.

"Never a better reason for the Harrowing has there ever been, Irving. She may have succumbed later in life, when her power was greater, then what?"

"I...do not want to think about that." The two men's voices fade as they step down out the chamber. When the door closes it is just Alim in the room, Alim and the abomination Solona.

He looks down at the corpse. Beneath the interwoven flesh and tendrills, he can still see Solona's face. "I would tell you that I am sorry, Solona, but I cannot say for certain whether or not I actually would be were I not as I am now." He looks at the room, logic would tell him this would be the last time he would come here and the last chance he would get to pay his respects to someone he called a friend. A woman he loved, Tranquil or not, the past is the past and it is irrefutable, whether we wish it or not. "But I will keep your memory, Solona, along with all the rest of my life before The Rite. I will not forget." He walks away from Solona, leaving her for Cullen. Before he steps out of The Harrowing chamber and closes the door, he looks down at his shoes and wipes the blood off of them at the steps.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

"And take heart children, know that though we have lost one of our kind to the demons, know that we will not forget her. Though now she walks in The Fade, unable to find her way, know that we cannot forget what we have learned from her." Wynne's voice rises above the quiet tears and open sobs of her fellow Mages, a large body of Apprentices inside the pews, who have come to pay their respects to a friend. No, a loved one.

No body, Cullen had only just disposed of it when the sermon began. Just a small podium, the statue of Andraste, The Knight Commander Gregoir, First Enchanter Irving, The Revered Mother, and Enchanter Wynne holding a funeral inside The Circle Chantry. Solona's corpse would have been taken from the Harrowing Chamber and burned. From his place in the back of the Chantry, Alim can see all those in attendance. While most are Mages, a few Templars have taken places within the congregation, kneeling in prayer.

"We cannot change what has happened. Our world is one that moves forward, whether we could use all our combined power to stop it, even for just a second, we will never have the power to reverse time. So we must press on, but this does not mean we forget." Swaying her right hand and resting heavy on her left, every stance and action carries the experience of an Enchanter who has had to give this speech more than once, but her voice holds no sense of imitation.

Alim though spends much of his time in The Circle at The Chantry now. He is well aware that before his Rite, lighting the fires and changing the candles for a religion that opresses his people, both of his people, would have infuriated him. He likely would take the candles and try to light the tapestries on fire to a prove a point to himself that this sort of placidity was not acceptable. On the other hand, he is aware that he is no longer who he was before, despite his vivid memories attatched to every part of The Circle, every part that is, except for The Chantry.

"No, we remember. We remember and we honor the memory of those who have past by continuing to move forward." The old woman's voice is sombre because as many know of her life and adventures, Wynne has had to move forward for a long time. A few in the audience wonder how much longer she has.

Alim is also well aware that there were never this many people in attendance for his "funeral." Technically he isn't dead, he knows, but he also knows that most in the Tower would consider his fate worse.

"Let us rejoice, and know that one day, we will be together again with The Maker." As Wynne steps off of the pedestal there are a few quiet nods, mostly from the Templars, and the deafening applause of his fellow Mages.

As Wynne moves to the back beside Alim, the Revered Mother of The Chantry takes the podium. "Thank you, Wynne, that was a beautiful eulogy." The Revered Mother of The Circle is just barely passing thirty and the youngest Revered Mother in the Circles history, and no stranger to the rumors this fact brought to her, and as such, a tad fiercer in her faith and reverence. "But I would like to take this time to acknowledge that until The Maker turns his gaze back upon the world, that Solona Amell, for breaking the first rule of magic will wander The Fade as all Maleficarum do."

Wynne sighs and leans to Alim. "She has to take every positive note I try to spin on a dead woman's mistake to remind us of our cardinal sin," she whispers.

Alim shrugs his shoulders and crosses his arms. "You tried to revitalize hope in broken people. You should know by now The Chantry frowns upon such things."

"The Chantry does not frown upon hope, Alim. They frown upon false witness."

"Well, as a Mage, Wynne, you would be the falsest witness possible."

The Revered Mother is now reciting The Maker's Commandments of Transfigurations. "Magic exists to serve man..." The crowd, The Mages and Templars, repeat after her.

Wynne frowns. "I wonder why she bothered to let me speak in the first place then."

Alim shrugs once more. "Irving broke the news, you've always been known as the most proficient healer in The Circle so it makes sense for The Chantry to use you as damage control."

Wynne shakes her head. "Sometimes it embitters me so that even with the death of such a loved pupil that there must be so much hidden politicing behind our actions."

"They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world or beyond." The Revered Mothers words draw nods of ascent from The Templars and a select few of The Mages.

Wynne looks down at the ground. "Sometimes I feel like we toy with our students. Using their hopes and dreams to lead them on, hoping we are guiding them on a righteous path."

"Lying for a good purpose." Alim smirks at his old teacher. "And other times?" Alim raises an eye brow.

Wynne cranes her head at Alim. "Other times, I wonder if you were ever truly Tranquilized, Alim Surana." Her eyes scrutenize her old pupil's face. It is a blank slate, despite his smirk, the rest of his face is inert, as if he uses the barest muscles possible to produce the roguish smile.

Alim's smirk expands and the rest of his face comes alive, alive as a puppets. Wynne can see the open listlessness of his eyes. "Imitation isn't difficult."

"No it isn't. But I don't see you imitating the others in this room, bowing your head or crying dragon's tears to fit in with the scene."

Alim looks at the faces of the assembled congregation. The irony of his life is that he is now more familiar with the Templars than he is with Mages. Cullen is in the front; despite looking at the back of his head, Alim recognises the short cut tossled hair of his training partner. Once he became Tranquil, Gregoir had seen no reason to restrict his weapons training, though he had requested many times while he was a Mage. Cullen had been open minded about Alim's state and even sympathetic to his punishment. More open minded than his classmates had been. Watching the Templar, with his head in his hands, the Tranquil elf roves his eyes to other subjects. He recognizes most of his old class mates, none of which had performed their Harrowing, yet. "I see no purpose in crying. I can't feel love anymore, though I know I would have been with the rest of them. Solona and I were close."

"Very close, as I recall. Until your Rite."

The Revered Mother is now holding her hands in the air and raising the fervor of her speech. "Those who bear fale witness..."

"She just mentioned you."

Wynne snorts. "What I said was not deception. If The Maker returns his gaze on the world, if we prove ourselves worthy, then even Solona will be forgiven."

Alim snorts in return. "If he forgives Solona for failing a rigged test, I'd like to ask him to forgive me for trying to pass it."

"Passing it would have been fine, Alim. But you chose to do so through forbidden methods."

"Forbidden methods I knew from the days I was small; forbidden methods housed right in The Circle Library." What should have been a laugh, comes out of Alim's throat more as a strangulation of interspersed air. "I will never submit, Wynne. Not like Owain, that was a promise I made to myself before I underwent The Rite."

Wynne shakes her head. "Then, what? You're determined to fight against your fate until the day you die?"

"Determination is not an emotion, but a trait of personality." Like a puppet's, his mouth simply moves up and down, there is no gesticulation of the lips.
"So is arrogance, Alim. What you were doing was Evil, pure and simple. You should be thankful the Templars let you off as you are now."

"Thanks would imply I could be happy about my situation."

"The other options, Alim, were execution or to be sent to Aeonar!" Wynne, hisses, and turns to face her old student and stares him in the eyes. "You got off lucky."

Alim does not retreat from the old woman's gaze. "Evil is not an emotion either, Wynne."

The Revered Mother ends her sermon. "Thank you all for coming. I have been told by both The First Enchanter and The Knight Commander that the rest of the day may be spent in contemplation. And please, if you have need of counseling, do not hesitate to ask either me or one of the initiate Sisters or Brothers."

As the congregation files out of the room, Alim and Wynne continue to stare each other down, until a deep throated cough ends their stalemate.

"Wynne," Irving says standing to the side, looking back and forth between the two Mages. "I would like to speak with you in my office. It concerns our...visitor."

Wynne nods to Irving and looks back to her former pupil.

Alim is still staring at her.

"For what it is worth Alim, I'm sorry that you had to kill Solona, but I don't think you could ever understand what being sorry means, before or after your Rite." Wynne breaks from her old student and follows Irving out of the congregation hall along with the rest of The Circle.

In minutes it is just Alim, The Revered Mother and the initiate Brothers and Sisters and soon even they file out, leaving the elven Tranquil alone with the candles and the statue of Andraste in the dark.

Alim sits down on a bench, facing Andraste, and closes his eyes. Tranquil need no beds. Beds are wanted because they are comfortable, comfort brings you pleasure, pleasure you desire.

He desires nothing anymore.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

The sound of sobs ends his meditation. Alim's eyes snap open to the statue of Andraste. Underneath her outstretched arms, facing it, a Mage in Apprentice robes is kneeling before the altar. The candles have all but burned out, in the shadows he can barely see the head of the Mage, but he knows it is male from the shape.

Without making a sound, Alim shuffles closer to the Apprentice, stepping up to the podium where the statue rests and stopping behind the Apprentice. "Curfew was several hours ago."

The sobs stop and the Mage freezes. "A-Alim?"

"Jowan. Why are you out here this late?" The elf whispers.

Jowan slowly rises up and turns about to face his old classmate. "I-I needed a place to...seek comfort."

"For Solona's death?" The elf turns about and stares at the outside hallway. The torches outside The Chantry are lit and the distant sound of metal feet rings in the air.

"Uh, yes. And for other reasons." Jowan looks down at the ground. "Oh, Alim..." Tears well up in The Mages eyes. "They just killed her. The Templars, they just killed her. She failed and they didn't spare her a glance."

Alim stays silent. He didn't object at the funeral, he wouldn't now. The footsteps are getting louder.

"If Solona couldn't pass, what chance do I have, Alim?" Jowan is holding his head in his hands breathing through mucus and spasms.

Alim turns to the hallway, the footsteps now are within muttering distance. "He couldn't have come at a worse time, Irving." Gregoir.

With the speed and bluntness of a bronto, Alim grabs Jowan by the face to silence his breathing. He pulls the Apprentice to the ground and kneels as close as he can to the floor. Alim holds a finger to his mouth.

Jowan's eyes in the dark are now quaking with fear and falling water.

"I specifically told him in a missive last month that Solona would have made an excellent addition to their ranks." The First Enchanter moves past the first Chantry entrance with Gregoir shortly behind.

"You gave the girl far too much credit, Irving. And, perhaps, not enough counseling to the other." Gregoir stops a moment, peering into the dark.

Jowan is now spasming and shaking.

"Be calm," Alim mouths in the dark, releasing his hand letting the Mage breathe in slowly. He shifts his position on the podium to block Jowan's movements. His shoes do not scrape against the rough wood, as though frictionless.

The Knight Commander stares at the statue of Andraste. He bows his head and moves on to follow Irving.

"Alim was always rebellious, Gregoir. He resented us from the day he came here. Perhaps,...with good reason." Irving stops at the second entrance in front of the torch.

"There is no one more than I who regrets what happened to the boy, both in how he came here or his Rite." Gregoir moves past The First Enchanter and turns around.

"Do you say that just to make yourself feel better about killing his father and his clan?" Irving crosses his arms. "Or because he continued to practice the magics his father had taught him from the time he was a child?"

"Do not question me, Irving, not in this! I take an open minded approach to magic compared to most Knight Commanders. You should see Kirkwall and what Meredith does there. Tranquil, scores of them walk The Gallows." Gregoir raises his arm as though he is wading through a sea of Tranquil.

"Yes, but Alim's clan, The Dalish clans, do not fall under Chantry rules of magic."

"Blood Magic is Evil, Irving. No matter who uses it and to teach it to a child is to damn them to walk The Fade for eternity. To use innocence to create a monster. I was trying save the boy, Irving, even then!" Gregoir shakes his gauntleted fist at his contemporary.

"You think you have saved him?"

Gregoir's fist falls to his side. "I think I failed him. But, I think he has taken that failure and turned it into a strength. My recommendation stands."

"I see. And what of Jowan?

"What of him?"

"You wish to perform the Rite tomorrow?"

"No...I...would prefer it if we did it after our visitor leaves."

"I see." Irving moves past the Knight Commander.

Gregoir follows.

As their steps echo through the halls, Alim releases his hold on Jowan. His breathing is even now, the lines of water around his eyes now semi dry. He wipes his face to dry to last of it.

Alim stands and holds out his hand for Jowan to take.

The Apprentice takes the Tranquil elf's hand and looks him in the eyes.

"They found out?" Alim asks.

Jowan nods.

Alim looks at the human he had called friend before his Rite. Of the people for the last three years, aside from Cullen, Jowan had been the only one to continue to interact with him. Solona still had, but not in the same way. The other Mages gave him a distance, whether out of respect for the dead, fear of his fate, or fear of him, he did not know. 'Jowan is going to be made Tranquil...because he learned Blood Magic from me.' He is still a friend, even after the Rite. 'The rules apply. It is something I would do.' He nods to himself.

"I should just go. I came here to say good-bye to Solona, and maybe let her know I'd be joining her wandering The Fade soon." Jowan moves past the Tranquil. "If not, I suppose we'll be sharing the Fomarri quarters soon. I need to ask Alim, does it hurt?" Even in the low light, the pained smile on Jowan's face is unmistakable.

"Jowan."

"Yes?"

"I'll help you."

"What?"

"I said, I'll help you." The elf steps forward to stare his friend in the eyes. "You learned it from me. You are my friend, have been and still are, despite my Rite. I keep my memories, I will not lose you the way I lost Solona."

Jowan peers at the elf. "Are you sure you're Tranquil?"

"Jowan."

"Yes?"

"Shut up. We're going to escape. We have at least a day to make preparations, and a night to pull it off. Is there anyone else you know who wants to leave that we can trust?"

"I...there is someone who wants to leave. You may not like it, but, she's skilled."

"Who?"

"An initiate. She...she's had a lot of experience in the outside world, she told me of her life before The Circle. She says as bad as it was outside, she thinks it's worse in here."

"Truly? A Chantry priest symapthizer…" The elf puts a hand on his chin.

"Well, what about you, mr. I'm training with the Templars. And whoever heard of an elf wielding a greatsword?"

"Garahel did."

"Oh, true." Jowan looks at the hallway, the sound of metal feet in the distance is returning. "I should get back to the Apprentice quarters."

"Yes. I'll meet you and The Initiate here tomorrow."

"Right. Alim?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you." Jowan runs of the podium to the second hall entrance and sneaks to the down stairs door way.

Alim walks back to his bench. Sits, head propped under his chin and closes his eyes once more.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

The Circle is alive again the next day as Alim opens his eyes. It is a sudden influx of noise and voices, people either whispering in far corners or the initiate Sisters shuffling feet as they attend to the Chantry. He rises from the bench and moves with haste before the Revered Mother can ask him to help with the daily preparations.

A Tranquil's life is a simple one. As the defacto accountants, shop keepers, and public faces for the Circle of Magi, they have plenty to keep them busy and moving. Without emotions, their lives are productive because they can be nothing else. Rarely ever is it that a Templar sees fit to bother a Tranquil because they have nothing to fear from the "brain dead" Mages. Rarely ever is it either that a Mage sees fit to bother the Tranquil, fearing everything about the calm and placid demeanor of their sun marked bretheren. It is an existence of quiet uninterrupted contemplation, one that suits a Chantry attendant, rather than a full time Enchanter.

Alim knows that escaping The Tower would not be enough. While as a Tranquil he longer has the ability to cast spells, and like all Tranquil, free to leave The Tower when he chooses. Jowan does not have that luxury, his phylactery is still in The Tower. Alim's was sent to Denerim a little over three years ago, in the long term he would have to leave, track it down and destroy it to complete his new goal. But all that requires getting into the phylactery storage room, which is guarded by the many traps and echantments set up by both the Templars and Mages. He would need firepower, enough to blow open the door to the storage rooms.

He needs a Rod of Fire and the only place that stores them is the Circle stockroom. This would require some subterfuge.

Near the center of the tower and guarded by the Templars at both the north and south entrance, the Circle stockroom is one of the most visited places in the tower. Owain stands in the center of the room in front of the supplies, staring into the open air, hands at his side. His eyes lock onto Alim's form the moment the elven Tranquil enters the room.

"Alim, how are you?" The other Tranquil tilts his head at Alim.

"I'm fine, Owain. I require the use of a Rod of Fire." Lying is not a skill the Tranquil are known to employ, at least amongst non-Tranquil. Nothing prevents them from doing so however, should the Tranquil have the will to do so. Self preservation though dictates that honesty is usually the best policy, as such the Tranquil, aware of their already precarious life, do not often lie, unless lying is in their best interest.

"A Rod of Fire? Why? We have many enchantable items in the Circle, why do you need these specifically?"

"I wish to study their construction and the applied sciences of how lyrium makes the Rods issue fire, there could be other applications."

Owain nods. "Very well." He pulls out a sheet of paper from the stockroom and hands it to Alim. "Return with a signature, I will be here."

"Thank you, Owain." Alim takes the sheet.

Exiting the stockroom, Alim takes a moment to assess his current mission. All he needs is a signature, typically when a person needs something done they do it themselves, but if someone can't do something themselves they find someone else who can, that person who can usually requires a payment of some kind. He needs someone in need.

Moving from room to room in the Tower, Alim scans the faces of every member of the Circle. The Library, his first choice, reveals little. The Enchanters and their practicing students are too busy to be bothered by the likes of him. Fireballs and Spellshield practice it looks like. One of the Apprentices, Finn, Alim believes his name is, botches his cast and the ball explodes barely leaving the Apprentices' staff. Fire had never been a difficult magic for Alim, but then again, few of the spells had been, but that was a moot point and he knew dwelling on it would only delay him. No, his best bet would be in the Experimental Wing of The Circle.

The Experimental Wing or the Labratory, is off limits to Apprentices unless they are specifcally brought up for lessons in the extra class rooms and share the Laboratory with the scholars and Tranquil for hands on classwork. The Templar at the door glances at Alim through his helmet, notes the robes and the sun tattoo and says nothing when he opens it.

Fuming smoke, bubbling decanters, and the sound of grinding mortars and pestles, the Labratory is typically used to experiment with altering and testing experimental magic spells, potion crafting, and performing enchantment work. The other Mages in the room are concentrating duitifully on their tasks, pouring over texts with ferverent eyes. All except Senior Enchanter Leorah, who is fidgeting on her feet and wringing her fingers with her back turned to Alim facing the giant metal doors of the Circle Storeroom.

'Somone in need.' Alim nods and moves in on the only elven Enchanter in the Circle. "Is something wrong Leorah?"

"Ah!" Leorah shouts, jumping back a little.

The Labratory patrons all look up for a moment, then seeing nothing wrong return to work.

Leorah turns around and sighs at Alim's neutral face. "Alim...you scared me."

"I apologize. It seems to be an unintentional habit of mine. I blame my shoes." The Tranquil elf lifts his foot for emphasis.

Leorah nods. "Yes, well, I'm fine, Alim. Just a little tense right now is all." She resumes her fidgetting

"I saw that. You seem unsettled, is everything alright?" A concerned tone, easily produced when coaxing another person to reveal a secret, something everyone wants to share.

"I-uh-it's nothing, Alim. I-uh..." Leorah looks back at the Storeroom.

"You can tell me, Leorah, I might be able to help if you let me know."

"Help?" Leorah says, turning back to the Tranquil.

"Yes, if it is something you need done discreetly, I can take care of it. I assume it has something to do with the Storeroom?" Alim inclines his head.

Leorah sighs. "Oh what's the point. You promise not like you'll tell on me to get me out of the job or anything?" She tils her head and implores with her hands.

"So long as Irving or Gregoir do not ask, I won't. However, I will not endeavor to tell anyone."

Leorah nods. "That'll do." She looks around at the other Mages to make sure none are listening and leans forward to whisper to Alim. "I was recently promoted, you remember this?"

"Yes, about a month ago?"

"That's right. Well, I was put in charge of the Labratory here and everything's been going great except..." She checks one more time to see if anyone has heard. "There are spiders in the Storeroom. Big ones."

Alim raises an eye brow. "So? You're a Senoir Enchanter, can you not destory them yourself?"

Leorah shakes her head. "No, I specialize in Sprit Magic and Creation, particularly defensive magic and cleansing magic. It helps because usually a Mage will make a miscalculation with a poulitice or an errant spell in the crafting. I can't fight well on my own. I'm not Uldred."

Alim nods. "Your tenure as an Enchanter would be compromised if anyone found out."

"Exactly. I can't ask anyone for help."

Alim looks at the storage room, then at Leorah. "If you give me a moment to get my greatsword, I should be able to deal with the spiders."

"But if you come in with your greatsword, everyone will suspect something."

"You could call for a break before I go in, get everyone out if discretion is that important."

Leorah looks at the storage room one more time and nods. "Alright, I'll take care of that. Get your greatsword, I'll open the door for you." Leorah looks at all the other Apprentices. "Attention everyone...attention!"

Alim leaves the room with all due haste. Currently, he's on the second floor, and a while Tranquil running through the halls and down the stairs might look out of place to some, few are in the passages and halls he takes to get to his quarters in the Formarri dormitory near the Templar quarters at the base of the Tower. He had only used the bed provided him by The Circle a few times in the past, and now the one thing that always brought him back to the Formarri quarters is going to be removed for the last time. He knows he should feel a sense of exhillerance from such an action, but as always it is the reminder that he should have felt that which drives him.

Underneath his bed and locked in case of black and surrounded by red velvet, the most ornate thing he'll ever own, lies his greatsword.

The greatsword itself is of Templar design. Enscribed with runes and enchantments to disrupt mana and Fade energies, the hilt of the blade and the ridges on the handle that lock his hands around the weapon fit snugly between his fingers. He swings it once to get a feel for the blade and nods. It is time.

But like a golem, frozen mid command by its master, Alim stops at a sound coming from the Templar quarters. Crying. Someone is crying. And like a golem, the sound commands, by the rules that he created in the past before his Rite, to seek out the cause of the noise and its owner.

The Templar quarters are almost as bare as the Mage quarters, almost. Unlike standard Mage Quarters or the Apprentice's dormitories, each Templar is granted a small vanity mirror and dresser, more furniture to a single mage hunter than most Mages would see in their life time. Also, a Templar is usually stationed with one other member for their order, but the room where the noise is coming from, Alim knows to be held by one Templar alone: Cullen.

Sure enough, head in hands in front of the vanity given to him and holding a golden chain necklace between his fingers, Cullen is barely holding back the wretches and spasms. In his grief, he does not sense Alim approaching.

"Cullen?"

No shriek. Of all the members of The Circle to know Alim, Cullen is quite aware of the Tranquil elf's ability to go unnoticed by most, having helped train and fight the elf in the practice quarters on the fourth floor. Drawing in his breath, and putting the necklace on the vanity, the Templar stands, fully suited. "Yes...Alim? What is it?"

"Are you, alright?"

"I'm fine. I-just needed some time to myself. I-" Cullen looks at the necklace on the vanity and clenches his mouth as though growling and his eyes shut. "I-I can't get over it, Alim!"

"It's only been a day, Cullen. You're allowed to mourn. You and Solona were...close." Alim is all too aware that were he not as he is now, Cullen and Solona's dalliancy would have enraged him. As he is now, he can only see the logic behind their union. Solona craved affection, his affection for many years at The Circle and when he could no longer provide that same feeling, that she sought it else where was not a surprise to him. He did not object to her and Cullen, even if it was against Chantry law. Two Mages together was practically as scandalous. He could hardly find justifiable logic against it and had no reason to.

"That's not it! They-" Cullen steps to the other side of his private quarters. "They made me clean the chamber, burn her body!" He clenches both fists to his chin as the spasms rise once more. "I could still see her face, Alim! The misery on it, the pain, I could see it all on her..." Turning around and pacing back and forth, Cullen stops in front of the Tranquil. "She trusted...everyone, almost implicititly, and everyone trusted her, but she still...it wasn't fair!" He shouts to the ceiling. "It isn't fair," Cullen mutters under his breath. "We are told that Blood Magic is Evil, that summoning demons is a sin punishable by death and yet, here in The Circle we send the Mages to be food for a monster. She was tricked, Alim, she had to have been! She wouldn't...I know she wouldn't have submitted on purpose." He walks back to the vanity and picks up the necklace, holding the golden chain between his fingers. "What's it like for you, Alim? What was it like, watching Gregoir cut her down?"

Alim stares at the ground. Imitation isn't difficult, bending the truth isn't difficult, lying outright is something he'd never been good at and likely never would. "I felt...nothing Cullen. That is what you know. I could never have felt anything, but I still watched. And yes, I am aware that if I was not then as I am now, I would have killed Gregoir. But that kind of rumination does not achieve anything."

The Templar turns around to face his training partner.

"We must move on, Cullen. Whether it is from the emotions that bind us to them, or the memories that come with those emtions, we must move on."

The Templar nods, gripping onto the necklace with his left hand. "It was only for a year...just a year, but Alim it feels like it was so much longer than that. I thought I had finally found the righteous purpose I'd been looking for in Chantry law, in all of my faith. I thought my purpose in life would be to be her defender from the monsters of the Fade...and I couldn't. Gregoir did not take me to her Harrowing, but he made me clean up her body. I think he knew about us, and I think he knew I could not strike the killing blow."

"You think he did it to teach you a lesson?"

Cullen nods and looks at the necklace. "Yes, I think he did, as cruel and harsh a lesson as it was, any of the Mages could become abominations, any of them, but I just didn't think she would." He takes the necklace and puts it on, letting it slide under neath his plate armor. "It is a lesson I will carry with me until the day I die. But, I still don't think it was fair to her, or to any of you, Alim."

Alim blinks, at the Templar, for the first time in three years, he does not know how to respond.

Cullen moves to his bed, and picks up his greatsword lying on the sheets, strapping it to his back. "I think, if I become Knight Commander, I'm going to try to change things here at the Circle, so that the Mages have...a better chance at life. I think she would have liked that."

Alim nods. "I think she would have too. Will you be alright, Cullen?"

"I think I will. I have to return to guarding the halls, Gregoir will be cross with me if he catches me mourning. Of that I have little doubt." His teeth are bared for a moment and then as he turns to the Tranquil his anger fades. "Alim, thank you, for having been my friend these last few years. I've never seen eye to eye with the other Templars or their views on you and Solona. I-if I'd been here when they...when they did it to you, I would...if I knew you as I know you now, I would have done anything I could have to help you."

"You are still dwelling on "what if's" they do you no service, Cullen."

"Still, I know you, you are a friend, a good person. Solona saw that and I still see it in you."

Alim stares at the Templar, then at the floor.

"I must be on my way, I wish you well, Alim Surana." Cullen leaves.

Alim looks at the vanity mirror and stares at his own reflection. His dark brown hair hangs loosely around his head, and his yellow robes glisten in the light of The Tower, his eyes are still just as listless. "Evil is not an emotion. Neither is Good." Alim nods to himself and leaves Cullen's quarters.

The Labratory is empty when he returns, save for Leorah. "What took you so long?"

"Sorry, a Templar requested my aid, I could not say no."

Leorah curses under her breath. "Whatever, just...take care of it. I can't keep people out of here for much longer." She opens the door for Alim and shuts it behind the elf as he steps through.

The storeroom cave is massive. A twenty foot high ceiling of stalagmites, damp dripping walls, and an echo to acompany every drip drop of water in it. Another mystery of The Circle, how an cave came to exist that went under Lake Calenhad, but the entrance to was on the second floor, above water. "A dimensional gate perhaps? What magics were used to build such a gate...did they also make this cave?" Curiosity like Determination is a character trait, and Alim would always be curious, especially of questions that no one asks.

Then a sound, like a chittering, rapid high pitched clicks and the sound of grinding, like bone on bone. Bulbous backed and brown, massive thing that would have sent children and many grown men screaming. It's mandables speed up excitedly as it zeroes its eyes on Alim from a distance.

Alim is not impressed. 'Evil is not an emotion.' He runs forward toward the Giant Spider and brings his greatsword to bear.

The brown arachnids spits a web out to the Tranquil elf.

Alim dodges to the left and slams the blade downward. 'I must do Evil to aid someone. Evil to do Good.'

The Spider moves back and the sword clangs against the rock and reverberates in Alim's hands. It steps forward and bites at the elf.

Alim steps back with the Giant Spider tries to get his leg between its mandables. 'The Spiders are reproducing, I am slaughtering them for being Spiders.'

The Spider leaps attempting to overwhelm him.

Alim points the sword down to the Giant Spider as it leaps, and rams itself between it's eight eyes on the giant wedge of his blade.

Insects it is said are emotionless creatures too. They follow their instinctual edicts to the letter, but are incabale of higher order thought. A human will tell you that Spiders do not scream, that insects cannot feel. They are wrong, they have never heard one loud enough to know. A Spider will scream when it lies on the ground with a metal wedge logdged inside of it, legs flailing to unlatch itself. Humans make the mistake of Tranquil as well. Pain is not an emotion either. Alim knows this, so he avoids the bites and attacks. If he could end this creature's suffering faster he would, but he cannot, so he waits.

The legs slow and soon they are listless, save for nudges from Alim's shoe, which cause them to flail back and forth anew, but only for a moment.

Alim puts his shoes on the Giant Spiders head and removes the blade.

With a last echoing, gasp the creature dies.

Alim flings the Spider's blood from his greatsword. It leaves a line of green ichor on the cave floor. "This is nothing less than genocide." The Tranquil listens for the sounds of the cave, and can hear more clicking in the distance. He walks to the shadows on the cave walls and folds himself to them. "Then, I will make this as efficient as possible. As little additional conflict as required. I will stop imitating a Warrior." He steps down the cave, following the chitterings like a shadow. 'And imitate something else.'

The Spiders are lying in wait for him, facing the other direction.

Alim's shoes slide across the floor, no tremors are made, no sound of grinding water and stone underneath leather soles.

The Spiders continue to lie in wait, patiently feeling for their prey, facing the wrong direction.

Alim raises his greatsword. 'If I must do Evil, then brutality is the surest mercy.'

As he plunges the blade into his next victim, Alim can't help but think that Gregoir would approve.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

When Alim returns from his excursion in the storeroom, Leorah's back is waiting for him. She turns around when the door closes, rushes the Tranquil almost bowling him over. "Is it done?! Are they all dead?"

Alim nods. "All of them, though you may want to run an inspection, see if you can find any eggs they may have laid and burn those. You don't want more of those emerging."

Leorah sighs. "No, no I don't. Thank you very much, Alim. I don't know what I would have done if Irving found out."

Normally, Alim would have pointed out exactly what she would have lost from this fiasco: her job, her pride and her sense of value within The Circle itself, which to emotional beings is not an easy thing to accept. It was hard enough for him to accept even without them. "I wouldn't worry about that. Study some more offensive magic and if this happens again, you should be fine."

Loerah nods and her shoulders sag. "Well, I'd better call in the others."

"Before you do that..."

"Hm?"

"I need you to sign this." Alim holds up the paper for the Rod of Fire.

"A stockroom request form? Rod of Fire? Why do you...no, you know what? I'm not gonna question it, I'm just gonna sign this and send you on your way." Leorah pulls out a quil, finds a convenient ink well and signs the form on the Labratory table next to her. "There, one Rod of Fire request form."

Alim takes the paper and looks at the signature to confirm it for himself. "Very good, thank you Leorah."

"Your welcome. I'll call the other students in here, gotta come up with a decent excuse to the First Enchanter why I pushed everyone out, but that'll be easier than explaining about Spiders."

Alim nods and moves out the door, but stops at the enchantement table he normally works at. Sitting on top of it are a few runes of varying tiers of quality and elements.

Leorah walks past the Tranquil but pays him no heed, too busy to get on with her day and resume to classes and Labratory experiments.

Alim opens the folds of his robes and stuffs the runes one by one inside, and makes a break for the Circle stockroom before any of the now incoming students and enchanters can notice what he's done.

Owain and the stockroom are unchanged, save for the occasional shift in posture of the Templars.

"I have the Rod of Fire request form, signed by Enchanter Leorah." Alim hands the form to Owain.

"I see." Owain looks over the form and nods to himself. He moves into the stockroom and pulls out a Rod of Fire, no bigger than Alim's forearm. "Use it wisely, and please know that if you require more, I will necessitate that you collect a signature for each Rod."

"I only intend to use one, Owain, that shouldn't be a problem."

"Truly? I wonder, what type of experiments you could perform that need only one testing resource?"

"I told you, I'm looking into the properties of these Rods to see if they can be given other uses."

Owain stays silent, then, "Alim, you know as well as I do, that the Tranquil are not as stupid or gullible as the rest of the Tower would like to believe we are," he says. "I chose my path voluntarily because the alternative was to be put through Solona's trial, to potentially become a demon. While you were not given a choice in the matter, considering your circumstances, you did get off lucky."

Alim says nothing.

Owain holds out the Rod to his fellow Tranquil. "My point is, while I know you do not feel the same about your circumstances, you could still treat me with at least modicum of respect more than you treat the others in the Tower. After all, no one else but us knows what we have gone through. What we still go through with our memories."

Alim stares at the other Tranquil, grips the Rod from Owain's outstretched hand. "It is because of memory, Owain, that I can no longer stand to stay here, among other things."

"I see. You are leaving, then?"

"Yes."

Owain nods and lets go of the Rod. "Very well, then, all I ask is that you be careful, Alim."

"You won't tell anyone?"

"Unless asked specifically."

Alim nods. "Thank you, Owain." Alim exits the Circle stockroom.

Before, though, he can go to the Chantry to find Jowan, a tap on his shoulder stops him.

"Excuse me, young man."

Alim turns around. Before him is a bronze skinned man with black hair and a beard so regal that coupled with his armor, heavily enchanted he can tell at a glance, that Alim almost confuses him for royalty. But that is a ludicrous thought, royalty do not come to The Circle. The man is someone of import however, and requires the same protocol. "Yes, sir, I am Alim, how may I help you?" He stows the Rod into his robes, hoping the man is not aware of its purpose.

The bronze skinned strokes his beard, his one arm propping the other one up. "Ah, well, I'm looking for the First Enchanter's study, do you know where I might find them?"

Alim nods. "Yes, sir, I can show you to them, if you'll follow me?" He moves past the Chantry, spies in a moment to see Jowan at the far side with a woman in robes. They're waiting for him, he must make this quick.

"I shall." The man follows Alim, matching his pace.

Alim says nothing for the duration of the walk, but pays close attention to the man in his perifpheral field of vision. A foreward piercing stare, one that seems to examine details without preconceived notions. The ease with which the man walks, smooth, efficient, and no sense of fear for the fact that Mages, abominations in the making, are milling about him by the dozens. No they are parting like a sea before the man, and Alim wonders if his own reputation is adding to the aversion the other Circle members are displaying. He doubts it, there is something about this man, like an aura that follows him whereever he goe, a magic of identity rather than of body.

Irving's office is a short distance away, as Alim nears it, he can hear the sound of raised voices.

"I just think it's impractical, Irving. There are plenty of Mages here who would happily volunteer for the opportunity."

"The opportunity for what? To throw themselves at the Blight? Are you speaking for yourself, Wynne? I truly doubt any of our Enchanters, much less the Apprentices would volunteer for such a thing."

Alim stops outside the door. Tranquil or not, intruding on conversations not his own would only delay him further and he'd already been delayed enough as it is. "Here are the First Enchanters quarters, sir."

"Duncan."

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Duncan, and I'm not the only one who the meeting is for." Duncan gestures for Alim to follow.

The Tranquil obeys.

The First Enchanter's study is full up, the two Senior most Enchanters, Uldred and Wynne facing Gregoir and Irving forming a square of discussion. Wynne and Uldred are arguing, while Irving and Gregoir look on at the spectacle.

"It is not a question of whether the Enchanters would, I'm sure there are some who would volunteer, but him? Truly? Nevermind his Tranquility, it's his past and his personality that I find objectionable."

"Personality? I do not think the Grey Wardens recruit on such criteria, Wynne. And I must ask, why you disagree so much with his helpful attitude towards others?" Irving raises an eyebrow.

"Helpful? Is that what you see him as? He's a snake Irving, an arrogant, deceitful, snake!" Wynne turns to Gregoir. "He pretended for years to be the Mage we dreamed of graduating to find out he was corrupting the other Apprentices."

Gregoir's face is placid and raises his left hand to calm Wynne's emotional fire. "And he has payed the price for his actions, Wynne. You know this, and for three years he has found redemption amongst the other Tranquil and serving the Revered Mother and The Chantry."

"Redemption? Is that you call branding our most talented student, after his Harrowing, against the rules I might add, and rendering him a husk of his former self?" Uldred raises an eyebrow at the Templar.

Duncan clears his throat.

Like four children simultaneously caught with their hands in the cookie jar, the three Enchanters and Knight Commander turn to face Duncan and his companion.

Alim stares.

"Ah, Alim, uh, well, this awkward," Uldred says to Wynne.

The Enchanteress whaps her collegue on the arm.

"We did not see you there, we apologise for how...heated our discussion was," Irving says.

The Tranquil is still silent, but blinks.

"Ah, yes, well, um...Gregoir, would you please take this for me?" The First Enchanter defers to his collegue.

Gregoir shakes his head and steps forward. "We were just discussing you and your companion."

Alim nods. "Yes, Duncan, he told me he needed to find the First Enchanters study," Alim says turning to the bronze man. "That may have been a lie or at least a subterfuge I did not suspect. Duncan, did you bring me here for another purpose?"

"I did, indeed. Your four teachers were discussing my purpose here. I am the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, I have come at the behest of King Cailan to recruit Mages for the war effort."

"War effort?" Alim raises an eye brow.

Duncan nods. "Indeed, a Blight has reared from the depths of the Deep Roads. The Darkspawn are on the march."

Uldred nods. "The King understand the necessity of Mages to aid the people." Uldred turns to Gregoir. "Though a few would object."

"I only object that so many Mages are requested and so few Templars sent with them. They need to be maintained."

"Leashed, you mean." The balding Enchanter narrows his eyes at the Knight Commander.

"Enough, both of you." Irving steps between the two men. "The point is, there is a necessity for Mages to aid Ferelden and we can spare no expense for the safety of our home. That is why we are sending Wynne and Uldred to Ostagar with Duncan here."
Wynne shakes her head. "We would have left sooner, but a missive came that the Warden Commander was looking for recruits and would be dropping by the Tower. We stayed behind when the original missive for the war effort came to wait for Duncan."

"And for Solona's Harrowing," Uldred chimes.

"Typically," Duncan says to the elven Tranquil. "A Mage is selected, only one, to be a Grey Warden, and at the First Enchanter's word I had come to recruit Solona for that very purpose, as well as any others who may have wanted to volunteer."

Alim nods. "But that...didn't work out as you planned."

Duncan sighs. "No it did not. I have known Mages nearly my entire life as a Warden. The threat of falling to the demons is one they must constantly struggle with. To hear that such a promising recruit fell against them is most disheartening. Fortunately, your instructors have told me of another Mage who has also proven to be an adept pupil."

Alim looks inbetween his four instructors and then back at Duncan. "You refer to myself?"

"I do," Duncan says.

"But I am not a Mage, I am Tranquil."

Gregoir steps forward. "You are still a Mage, albeit one that has learned to rely on other forms of Magic. I know for fact that you have enchanted your robes for bodily protection and shoes to make you silent and to hasten your movements. The other Fomarri have mentioned your work in the Laboratory, they say it is most exemplary."

Alim grips a portion of his robes and grinds his shoes into the floor. He hadn't been aware people were watching him while he worked.

Gregoir continues, "You are proof, that Magic can be used in other forms rather than for destruction, proof that it has applications which can benefit all of Thedas. And because of that fact, I believe you will make a fine addition to the Wardens."

"You believe?" The Tranquil elf raises an eye brow.

"It was Gregoir who approached me with the proposal of releasing you to the Wardens," Duncan says. "However, Wynne and Irving both believe you would be better suited to remaining here, rather than fighting Darkspawn."

"It is not a mark against your abilities, or what we know you to be," Irving says, looking at Wynne, who frowns. "We merely do not feel that open battle with the Darkspawn is an appropriate use of your talents."

"You mean that you did not think I was suited for open battle. Wynne believes I am...a snake?" Alim looks at his old instructor.

"Your actions in the past were a mark against The Circle. When word spread that you were teaching Blood Magic to the other students we had to quell not only the Crown's wrath but also The Chantry's. They nearly called for the Rite of Annulment."

Alim crosses his arms at Wynne. "Instead you made me Tranquil, as a sacrifice, along with the other students." Five total Tranquil had been made that day.

"It seemed far more suitable at the time, than inciting the wrath of the Divine," Irving says. "And since you never got beyond the preliminary stages, or explanations, after the Mages were suitably punished for their actions, the Chantry was content to let them live as long as you and they served as an example to others."

"But despite your handicap, you have adapted, splendidly, I might add," Gregoir says, smiling, a sight Alim isn't sure he's ever seen, much less directed at him.

In other situations, Alim knew that he would have been ecstatic at the thought of becoming a Grey Warden. It would have meant freedom from the Tower, from the Chantry, freedom to practice Magic as he wished, Blood Magic even. But those days were long gone, and he has only recently discovered his goal and purpose in life yesterday. Becoming a Warden would interferre with that and likely involve him dying fighting the hordes of monsters wrought by humanity's hubris. "Do I have a choice in the matter?"

Duncan shakes his head. "Unfortunately, no. Under other circumstances I would accept volunteers and invoke the Rite of Conscription only in cases where the state or local officials would deny me access to recruit. In your case, and in the case of our current circumstances, The Blight, I am unable to leave the Circle without a recruit. If you refuse, I will have to inovke it."

"And I will leave with you anyway." Alim turns to Gregoir. "So it seems that even after losing my Magic, I am still to be leashed."

"That is not it all, Alim." Gregoir shakes his hands.

The Tranquil shakes his head in return. "Perhaps not to you, and perhaps not to the Mages of this Circle, but whether I am leashed to the Wardens or to the Tower, a leash is a leash. What I wish to do with my existence has never mattered." Alim stares pointedly at the Knight Commander, then turns to Duncan. "If I am to be drafted, then may I make a request?"

"If it is within my power, I shall grant it," The Warden Commander says.

"I know another Mage, an actual Mage, who would serve the Warden's well, if I am to become one, then I request that you also recruit him for the army."

"Are you referring to Jowan?" Wynne tils her head at the Tranquil.

"I am. Jowan is a skilled Mage, and a loyal friend, even after my Rite, he has been there for me."

"The Warden's only are allowed one Mage for their order. You would be it, Alim, despite your view to the contrary. And there are compelling reasons for keeping him in The Circle."

"Compelling reasons?" Alim raises and eyebrow. "You mean that you caught him practicing Blood Magic?"

The silence in the room is so palpable that the soft scratches and clanks of Gregoir's armor, as he shifts and stares at the elf, cuts right through it. "How do you know that?"

"I taught him." The Tranquil states. "You are going to make him Tranquil, no? You are going to render him the same as me and yet you will deny allowing him to join the Wardens. As always Gregoir, when you liberated me from my family, and then indoctrinated me into your religion, your logic leaves much to be desired. I have already been Tranquilized, doing the same to Jowan is redundant."

"It is hardly a redundancy!" Gregoir steps forward once more and is now the closest to the elf, staring down at him. "You have paid for your crimes! The Tranquility was the only option to spare you and the Circle the full punishment of the Divine. You may have taught, perhaps even coerced him as a friend, but Jowan's actions are his own and he must pay for them. Blood Magic is forbidden, he knew this, all Mages know this and to do so is to defy The Maker and to spit on all the efforts of humanity to win back his approval. Jowan will undergo the Rite, Alim, and you will leave for the Wardens, that is final!" The Knight Commander cuts his hand through the air, ending the discussion.

Alim stares at him a moment, then turns around, he looks to Duncan and says, "Allow me please to gather my personal effects. When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow at dawn," The Warden Commander answers. "We will leave and we will not stop. Say goodbye to those you know, take what little you have, we have a very long journey ahead of us to Ostagar."

Alim nods and leaves Irving study.

"Much defiance in that one." Alim hears Wynne say as he leaves the room.

())()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

He knows he shouldn't have mentioned knowing Jowan's Blood Magic, or admiting that he had taught the Mage, it could comprimise his plans to help his friend escape, but at this point he is beyond caring. 'They saw to that,' Alim thinks to himself. He is leaving. He had always intended on doing so, even before his Rite, but not like this. Abandoning his rules, his identity from before, everything that had been him. The Circle itself has been all that tied him to who he was. Leaving Jowan behind, no matter how he tries to find a way to circumvent the edicts he put in place for himself, would mean severing the last tie he has to his previous self.

'I will not allow that to happen. I will retain my memory.' Walking to the Chantry, he enters to find Jowan alone in the chapel, sitting in the pews. "Jowan?"

The Mage turns around to look at Alim, then stands to face his friend. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show."

"There have been far too many delays." Alim holds up the Rod of Fire. "But I have what we need." He looks around to see if anyone is listening to them. The Chantry is sparsely populated, but the initiates are milling about, some pass a smile his way, and he smiles back to keep them unaware of his intentions. He looks back to Jowan. "Where is our initiate ally?"

Jowan nods his head towards a Sister lighting the candles in the far corner, listening to the chants of a Mage, Kelli, if Alim remembers correctly.

"Very well, I will go to the basement storage room and make sure the cost is clear. When you can, let her know." Alim leaves the Chantry and heads down the stairs to the Circle's first floor. He passes Apprentices and Templars on the way. Cullen, walking the halls per his guard duty, nods to him and walks past. Alim continues ahead, no time to waste now, even chatting with perhaps the one other friend he would leave behind.

The storage room is unguarded, Alim would have smiled at his good fortune, but instead he can only question why the Templars would leave the most important room in the Tower, with all its "dangerous" magics and the phylacteries unguarded. Making sure no one is watching him, he slides silently across the floor, down the steps, next to the door and grips the handle. 'It is unlocked? Are the Templars truly this lax in their duties?' Alim wonders. The handle, while stiff makes no effort against him opening it. He waits by the door for Jowan and his initiate ally.

"Alim." A hushed whisper.

"Here." A return just a hushed.

Jowan and The Initiate step down to meet him by the door, both are looking around wearily. "Where are the Templars? Don't they guard the door?"

"They don't need to. The other protections inside the basement see to that. They think it's better to watch the Mages." The Initiate nods her head to the elven Tranquil.

Alim nods and opens the door.

Much as it was stepping into the Tower's Laboratory storeroom, stepping into the basement storeroom greets Alim with the smell of damp, cold air, and the smell of stone mildew on the walls.

"Gah, why is it so cold in here?" Jowan asks.

"We are currently underneath Lake Calenhad. The water is encasing all these walls, and as winter approaches the Lake becomes colder and colder, cooling down this entire area." The Initiate responds, putting a hand on Jowan's shoulder.

Jowan smiles and nods his head.

Alim doesn't notice, too busy staring at the door in front of him. "This door is too thick for the Rod of Fire."

The Initiate walks up to Alim and points at the door. "It was designed by both the Templars and the Mages, meant to hold out anyone who would use its secrets for misdeeds. It requires both the word of a faithful to prime it and a Mage who has been through the Harrowing. That's where you come in." She turns to him.

Alim turns to her, then to Jowan. "She doesn't know I'm Tranquil?"

The Initiate's eyes light up. "Tranquil? Oh my, Jowan, we need the aid of a Mage who has passed his Harrowing to open the door!"

"What? But there must be some other way, perhaps we can…"

"We can't do anything Jowan, the door won't open unless we get the aid of a Mage who has been through the Harrowing, and it's too late to ask anyone else for help. Oh Maker, why did I agree to this?" She folds her hands over her head, as though holding back tears.

"Lily, please, don't give up on me now we're-"

Alim isn't listening to either of them. He walks up to the door and places a third tier fire rune on it, the rune sticks with an adhesive he applies to it. He traces the Tevinter symbol for 'fire' on the rune and walks away from the door. "You both may wish to take a step back." He guides his two conspirators from the door back toward the basement entrance around the corner.

"Why would we want to-" Jowan and The Initiate never finish their sentence because the explosion which blows open the door knocks both him and The Initiate down.

Alim remains standing, staring down at them, as they both climb to their feet.

"What was that?" Jowan asks, helping The Initiate to her feet.

The Tranquil moves forward and peeks around the corner. The door is in ruins, bits and pieces of it lying in the hallway on both sides. "I released a fire ruin I took from the Laboratory this morning." Alim steps past the door and into the hallway, turning to check on his compatriots.

"Released it?" Jowan asks, walking in step with his friend. The Initiate falls in step behind them, looking fearfully at the door and the new arch way its absence has created.

The Tranquil nods. "Yes, there is Magic stored in runes. While they are made by the Tranquil, unable to do Magic of our own, we can shape existing Magic to suit our needs. Lyrium becomes what we want it to be and we store it in these stones." Alim pulls more runes out of his robe pockets. "When we release the rune the stored up Magical energy erupts from the stone, and take effect the same way any spell would. Depending on the way the stone is released the effects differ. In this case I did a rather…violent release of that fire rune."

Jowan nods. "That's impressive, so you can still do Magic as a Tranquil then."

Alim presses forward. "Not quite, it takes time, a lot of time to make these runes, especially the stronger ones, since their designs are more intricate. It also means that once the rune is used it can't be used again. But you are correct, one could likely fashion a rune for every spell that exists." Alim stops at the next door. It's only made of wood. He pulls out the Rod of Fire and hands it to Jowan.

Jowan raises an eyebrow at Alim and the Rod.

"I can't use one of these, they still require Magic to activate them."

Jowan laughs. "I know, I just thought with those runes you'd be blowing open every door in our way."

Alim shakes his head. "That was the strongest fire rune I had. I have another one, not a fire rune, stronger, but I doubt it would help us."

Jowan points the Rod at the door, when nothing happens, he hits the Rod and tries again. "Why not?"

"It would likely bring down the entire Tower. Is something wrong?"

"I don't get it, the Rod isn't working…" Jowan puts it away and tries to cast a spell. "My Magic isn't working!"

"Another impasse. Likely a field created by the Fomarri to nullify Magic. The walls themselves are probably enchanted." The Tranquil fiddles with the runes in his pockets. He has a few more fire and lightning runes, but only one more of them is a three. There's also the chance that releasing the runes here they might still be mitigated by the field.

The Initiate steps behind the two of them, examining the door. "That would make sense, since this is where the ancient antiquities would be stored. I had thought it odd why Irving and Gregoir used keys for this door. We need another entrance." The Initiate points to a door down the hallway. "There, that door."

Alim turns. There is indeed another door down the hall, three suits of armor standing at attention near it. "We will have to try it. Jowan, if you would?"

The Mage walks forward, his two allies following behind him. He pulls out the Rod of Fire and ignites the door, which burns to the ground, revealing the next room. He turns and gestures his friends to follow through.

The sound of grinding metal stops them, though.

Alim, out of instinct, and suspicion of the suits when he first saw them, unsheathes his greatsword, bringing it about face to the closest of the suits, holding a mace and a shield in its arms. The other two, one with a greathammer and the other with a longsword and a dagger, run past him towards his allies as the mace wielder spins about trying to hit Alim with the shield then get him with the mace. The Tranquil blocks the shield and uses the momentum, coupled with his greatsword acting as a fulcrum to spin himself about and avoid the mace. At the end of his spin the elf brings the greatsword around and slices the back of the suit, opening up the metal.

As though its body is flesh and not metal, the suit reels from the blade, but turns around, its chest rotating a hundred and eighty degrees followed by the legs, and rushes the elf.

In front of him, Jowan and The Initiate are barely fending off the other two. The one wielding the greathammer can't swing fast enough to hit The Initiate, so it switches to Jowan and the dual-wielding one takes her on in a battle of sword and dagger versus just a dagger. Jowan meanwhile is yelling as he pours fire out of both the Rod and his staff, as though metal would find flames to be a deterrent. The greathammer suit brings its weapon above its head and swings it down heavy. Jowan barely dodges to the right to avoid the cudgel and casts Weakness. But even moving at the pace of a cripple, the suit manages to lift its hammer from the ground and hits Jowan in the side, who falls to the ground unconscious like a sack of potatoes.

The Tranquil dodges a mace swing from his enemy, the suit still not giving inches at it tries, to separate him from his allies. Alim's mind though is untouched by fear, as the suit continues to press its attacks, Alim allows it to over extend itself, then brings his greatsword down on the suits arm. With a clank, the offending appendage falls and the suit takes a moment to stare at the stump where the elbow of the armor was cut off. Alim does not give it a chance gather itself, so to speak, and cuts off its head. The suit collapses just as a corpse. Alim runs to aid his friends in dire need of his help.

The dual-wielding suit is going in for the kill. The Initiate, wherever she learned her skills, is still fending it off, but just barely. It makes three stab attempts at her, the sword glances by her shoulder cutting it, the dagger she blocks, but the final sword attack runs right through her stomach and she falls as the blade slides wetly out of her, her face a mix of shock and awe. The dual-wielder turns around only to find a greatsword run through its chest, not too dissimilar to what it had just done moments before.

Alim does not smirk or offer a witty retort to the suits apparent disbelief at the wedge inside of it and instead hurls it at the greathammer suit, who without any regard for its ally, swings its hammer at and shatters it in an explosion of plate gauntlets and boots.

The greathammer bearer gets in a ready stance, it's hammer behind it and hunching like a monster.

Alim wastes no time, answers the challenge and charges the suit of armor.

It spins about bringing its greathammer to bear one more time, up over head and swings down.

Alim, rather than dodgeing, uses the flat side of the greatsword as a shield, butts the greathammer back, knocking the suit of balance. It falls backwards with a clang. As it picks up the hammer and looks up, it sees Alim swinging his greatsword viciously down and cuts off the suits head. The armor collapses, another corpse. One of a few.

Alim runs to Jowan, pulling out a poulitice. He props his friends head up and pours into his mouth.

For a moment nothing happens, then the Mages eyes flutter open and he looks up at the elven Tranquil. "Did we win?"

"Yes, but, The Initiate has fallen."

Alim does not finish before Jowan is up and across the hall holding The Initiate in his arms. "Oh Maker, Lily!" Cradling her head in his arms, Jowan is sobbing and staring at the open wound in the woman's stomach. "She's breathing! Give me a poulitice!"

Alim, hovering over his friend, as he frets with the woman underneath him, hands another poultice to Jowan, his hands shaking as he applies the red gelatinous substance to the wound and pours some down her throat.

"Please, wake up, Lily!" The Mage kisses the woman's face, tears falling out of his eyes onto her robes. "Give me another one!"

Alim knows better than to tell his friend that the potion is already taking affect, and hands him another.

"Please, Lily, don't leave me!" Jowan pours the potion down on the wound and into the mouth of The Initiate, Lily. Her eyes open after a few more moments.

"Jowan?"

"Oh, thank you Maker! Are you alright?"

Lily cranes her head and stares at the suits of armor lying in pieces around her. "We won?"

"Yes, oh, yes, we won." Jowan turns his head up to Alim. "Thank you."

Alim nods. "Can you stand, Initiate?"

"Lily, her name is Lily," Jowan growls through his remaining tears and sobs.

"I think so." The Initiate, Lily, gets up, holding her stomach, the wound still in the process of closing. She holds her side where the tender wound is open.

"This was a mistake, Maker, why was I so stupid?! We shouldn't have come here."

"The Templars are going to make you Tranquil, Jowan. Worse they could execute you," Alim lectures to his friend.

"I don't care!" Jowan turns on his friend and stalks towards him. "I don't care what happens to me, if Lily gets hurt or killed because of my selfishness I won't ever forgive myself. I'll take whatever punishment they give me, but I won't endanger her!"

"Jowan." Lily's hand falls on The Mage's shoulder.

He turns around, his face red with anger and his eyes just as so with drying trails of water on his face.

"It's alright. I'm fine. It's just a little flesh wound at best now."

"But, you almost got killed!" Jowan starts gesturing about hysterically. "Nothing is worth that to me, Lily. There's no point to my life if you're not in it!"

Lily puts her hand on the side of the Mage's face. "And there is no point to my life without you in it, Jowan." She strokes his cheek, then kisses him briefly. "It's alright. We'll get through this, and we'll find our happiness together." She then turns to Alim. "Thank you, for saving me and Jowan. If you're ready, lets continue."

Alim nods. "You're welcome. Jowan is my friend, anyone he values is also worth saving and fighting for."

Lily smiles and nods at The Tranquil. She turns to Jowan. "Shall we make our escape, my love?" She inclines her head at the new archway in front of them.

Jowan looks at her, then at Alim, who nods. He turns back to his love, the one love that he's always wanted, and also nods. "Yes, lets get out of here."

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

The wall to the phylactery bursts open in a shower of stone, dust, and fire. The Sentinels that guard the room stand up. For the first time in ages, it seems that they will be given purpose. Their leader, a giant set of Qunari plate armor holds his greataxe at the ready. Today there would be blood.

From the dust a shadowy form steps into the light and the four Sentinels get into their ready stances awaiting their foe. When the dust settles, there is an elf standing there with a placid look on his face and four runes of his hands.

"Nipping this in the bud," The Sentinels hear the elf say, as he tosses the four stones at their feet.

The Sentinel's leader picks one up, and lifts the stone to its face. The spirit inside the armor recognizes the Tevinter symbol for 'lightning' as the stone glows a bright purple. The Sentinel turns to the elf, who is now casually walking back the way it came.

Alim does not flinch at the explosion of fire and lightning that comes from the room, as he arrives back to tell Jowan and Lily, "I think the way is clear now."

The two lovers stare at the elf incredulously until Jowan pipes up. "Why didn't you do that the first time? Or…any of the other times we were being attacked by those things?"

The Tranquil stares back. "We were too closely packed last time for me to use any of them without killing both of you. As for the other times…we did a lot better all those other times."

Jowan sighs. "Whatever, I suppose it worked out for the best. Are you sure it's clear?"

Alim looks into the room. The Qunari suit of armor is crawling across the floor, its legs removed from its body. It raises a gauntleted fist at Alim, shakes vigorously, then collapses. "Yes, it's clear."

The three enter the room and ascend the steps to the phylacteries. Jowan steps forward skimming through the names listed. "Here!" He pulls up a vial holding it aloft. "All I have to do is let it go." He lets it go and it shatters on the stone floor. "And I am free."

Alim looks at the phylacteries. "They take a sample of our blood, then store it in a serum to keep track of us. The Chantry forbids every use of Blood Magic, but has already devised means to use it for themselves. I know that if I were not as I am now, I would throw a rageful fit over this. But as it stands I can only wonder at the irony of it."

"The Chantry does what it must, Tranquil Alim," Lily says from behind Jowan. "But not all it's actions are just." She stares at the vials, hundreds of them, one for every Mage. "Keeping track of Mages is a necessity, I think. But the Rite, is evil, it is beyond evil."

Alim looks at the Sister. "How do you accept this, but not the Rite?"

Lily looks down at the ground, then at Jowan, then back to Alim. "I know it sounds hypocritical and it is, I agree it is a form of Blood Magic, but it is not the same as manipulating someone's mind against their will, causing hundreds to bleed from open wounds slowly, or stealing the life force of others to sustain your own." She shakes her head. "And it's not the same as removing someone's sense of emotion from them. To say that you no longer feel love, any kind of love," She says, turning to Jowan. "That is more horrible than all evils in the world. You can't even know what you have lost." She turns back to the Tranquil. "That kind of emptiness, I can't imagine it."

Alim stares and then, "It's a bit like losing an arm, and still feeling it there moving at the stump. You know it's not there, but the memory of what it was and what it felt like is all too apparent and you are reminded of it at every point when you see something you associate with it. You feel your arm twitch, when you know it's just a stump." He turns and descends down the steps.

Lily turns to Jowan. "Is he mad at me?"

Jowan shakes his head. "No, he can't be mad anymore, they took that from him. But you did say something rather insensitive."

"What did I say?"

"You talked about love."

"But I do love you, Jowan. Why would that make him mad?"

"It's not that, he's not jealous, but I think you reminded him about Solona."

"The mage that died yesterday? The one that became an abomination?"

Jowan nods. "Yes, she was a friend of ours, more his than mine. After she began seeing that Templar Cullen she and I drifted a little farther apart as well. But before his Rite, they were together."

"Who? Her and him?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I didn't realize."

"It's alright, I think that's why he's leaving."

"Jowan, can I ask you a question?"

"Anything, my love."

"Everyone says that he was Tranquilized for being teaching Blood Magic to the other students, is that true?"

Jowan stays silent, then nods.

"Jowan…are you-"

"Did you two forget that we have a time limit? Or are you just going to keep whispering

about me up there until the Templars come?" Imitating an irritated tone got the point across.

Jowan and Lily descend the stairs looking sheepish at the Tranquil elf.

Alim just shakes his head. "Lets go."

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Exiting the basement, and opening the door to the Circle first floor, Alim is the first of the three to see the Templars, including Gregoir and Cullen, and Mages, Wynne, Irving and Leorah, waiting for his group. Jowan and Lily back a step towards the basement. Lily draws her daggers and Jowan pulls out his staff. Alim reaches into his pocket and traces the last rune he has.

"So," Gregoir says, walking forward to the three. "You were right, Irving, one of the Chantry's own has betrayed us to help the Maleficar." The Knight Commander turns to Alim. "But of all of the conspirators, you were the last person I expected to be here."

Alim tilts his head at the Knight Commander. "You did not expect this? You did not expect me to aid my friend?"

"Aiding a friend is one thing, Alim, a commendable thing," Irving says to the Tranquil, pulling out his own staff. "But aiding a Maleficar goes against everything the Circle stands for, you know this."

Wynne steps forward and points at the elven Tranquil. "As I told you, Irving, he cannot be trusted, even after his Rite."

"I trust him more than I ever will any of you," Jowan says taking his place by Alim's left. "Alim has never abandoned me, Wynne! You though would throw any Mage to the Templars just to save your own hide!"

"I hardly consider looking out for the best interests of The Circle as saving my own hide, Jowan. We cannot flout the Chantry, we must earn our place in society."

"I would have been fine in the past with Mages earning their place lady Wynne," Lily says taking her place on Jowan's left. "But what I have seen in there proves that The Chantry does not follow its own edicts. The Rite is evil, it destroys love! To use it on anyone is a sin against The Maker!" The Initiate pulls out her dagger and the second one she found on the corpse of the first suit of armor. "If you Tranquilize Jowan, you will have to do the same to me."

"That can be arranged," Gregoir says, pointing forward at the group. "Cullen, arrest Alim, take him to the dungeons to await suitable punishment. Kill the Maleficar, Tranquility is too good for him, and arrest the girl to be taken to Aeonar."

Cullen steps forward, a small group of Templars behind him. He stares at the group in front of him, at the elf, his friend, then hangs his head and looks up. "I'm sorry, Alim. What I do now, I do so with a heavy heart." The Templars advance as Cullen does.

Alim nods at his friend. "I wish, Cullen, that I could say the same, I want you to know that." He pulls out the last rune from his pocket which glows a bright green glow.

Leorah looks up at the rune. "Stop! Don't go near him!"

"What is that?" Gregoir asks.

"He's holding my prototype earth rune and…he's almost released it."

"And?" Gregoir turns around to face the Tranquil, who is staring right at him.

"And, if I release this fully, the entire Tower, you, The Templars, The Mages, all of you are buried underneath the waters of Lake Calenhad."

The silence which ensues is one of almost surreal nature. The Templars and Mages are being threatened by a Tranquil.

"Why…why are you doing this, Alim?" Gregoir asks.

"It is something I would do." Alim responds.

"What does that mean?!" The Knight Commander demands.

The Tranquil does not speak at first then, breathing in, looks at the assembled congregation. This is his time to preach. "Before I came to the Circle, I was a Dalish, a boy no more than eight before your Templars came and slaughtered my family. I remember my father, his stern, but kind face and bald head. I remember my mother, and how she used to smile and that she had blonde hair, that she was originally from the Alienages and how my father rescued her from bandits. I remember the clan we traveled with, the hunters and what the halla looked like and what it was to ride on one of them through the trees, as though I was flying."

Still holding onto the rune, Alim unsheathes his greatsword. "I remember the day you came, and how your Templars killed everyone, our Halla mistress, our hunters, anyone who resisted. I remember you found me, hiding in my father's aravel and how I used Blood Magic there that day, when you came in and tried to capture me. How I resisted with every fibre of my being, casting every spell I could think of that my father had taught me. None of it worked, I still just a child. You knocked me out and I awoke in The Circle."

Alim's grip around his greatsword tightens as he points it up at Gregoir. "I remember you told me that this place would be my home. I remember being told by you that 'I had nothing to fear from you.' I remember the woman who was Knight Commander before you, and I remember how you protected me from her."

Alim closes his eyes. He can feel the thrum of the rune in his fingers. It is the thrum of the lyrium, the essense of all Magic, reacting to his will. "I remember being a Mage. I remember bending the forces of the world to my desire and learning how to control Magics outside the Blood school. I also remember reading The Chant for the first time. I remember reciting the words to the Revered Mother, to your Knight Commander, Gregoir. I remember crying that day because I knew at that point there was no going back. I would never return to see the other clans, I would never see my family again."

Alim opens his eyes. "But most of all, I remember Love, Gregoir. I remember what it felt like to know that there was someone else who valued me as much as I valued them. Someone who'd lost their entire family to the Chantry and hated it here as much as I did. And that made living here bearable, enjoyable even, because I finally wasn't alone."

The rune is still glowing, Alim stares at the Tevinter symbol for earth. A tier seven earth rune. Nevermind The Tower, the entire region would likely feel the effects of this tiny little rock's release. "Then, came the Tranquility. My love was taken from me. Not the one I loved, but the love I felt. And for three years, I lived, going through the motions to try to understand my new life and what I'd done, what I'd done wrong. But you know what Gregoir?" The Tranquil turns to look the Knight Commander right in the eye. "There is nothing to be gained by punishing someone who cannot feel guilt for their actions. I not value anything anymore, much less myself." He holds up the rune for all of them to see. "I have been a Child, a Son, a Dalish, a Mage, a Sinner, a Lover, a Friend, I have been all these things, but now, I don't even know what I am anymore. My actions, every one of them is guided by the memories of who I used to be." The Tranquil looks down at the ground and for the first time, in a long time, Alim knows exhaustion. "Am I even alive now, Gregoir?" He asks looking up with listless eyes, the same eyes Gregoir remembers when he first came to the Circle.

"Alim…" Gregoir says, inching closer to the Tranquil. "Please, don't do this, son."

At that word, that last word, Alim throws the earth rune to the ground. In an instant there is a massive rumbling throughout the entire Tower, the building shaking, shattering itself apart and then…nothing. The rune's glow stops and the energy in it abates.

Alim raises an eye brow. "Prototype, indeed. Jowan?"

"Right!" The Blood Mage pulls out a dagger and stabs the blade into his hand, pulling forth the eldritch energies of life force inside himself and the people in the room. The Templars, Mages, everyone, but the three companions, begin to spasm horribly violently, blood coming up through their orifices in a macbre dance of flailing limbs and silent screams. Jowan releases the spell and they all collapse on the ground.

"They'll be waking up soon."

Jowan nods. "We need to go, now!" Jowan gets ready to run and tries to grab Lily's hand only to have her pull away. "Lily come on, we need to go!"

"I'm not coming with you, Jowan." Lily is facing the ground her hands clenched at her sides.

"What?"

"You lied to me! You said you weren't a Blood Mage!"

"Lily, there's no time for this! They will kill me and take you to Aeonar, we have to run!"

"But…"

"Lily, I'm sorry, but they'll be up and at it soon, The Templars especially. We have to leave now!" Jowan turns to the woman in robes. "I love you, I swear I do, if I have to give up Magic entirely, I will if you want me to, but please don't stay here, not with them."

Lily turns her head to face Jowan, she looks at the dagger in his hands and the wound in his left palm. She then turns to Alim. "You made him this way, didn't you?"

Alim nods. "Yes, I taught him."

Lily glares at the elf. "It's because of you that he has to live his life on the run now."

Alim nods. "Say what you want, Initiate, you won't get another chance."

Lily shakes her head. "No, I've said enough, we've said enough. I hope that The Maker can forgive you, Alim Surana because I don't think I ever will." She grabs Jowan's hand, the unwounded one and runs with her Mage out of the room and out of The Tower.

Alim stands and waits. He knows Jowan did not use a lethal casting, but he makes no attempt to heal their wounds, save for Cullen, who applies a poulitice. The barest sound of footsteps meets his ears, as Duncan walks into the room.

The Warden Commander looks down at all the unconscious bodies, nodding his head. "I'm impressed."

"I thought you might be." He finishes applying the poulitice and stands. "So," Alim says.

The Warden Commander looks up at him.

"Do we still leave at dawn?"

Duncan says nothing, instead he just smiles.

Author's Note: WOW. This shit took for fucking ever. Seriously, I started this shit a while back sometime around December twentieth, maybe a little earlier, but it really didn't get rolling until I found out I wouldn't be doing my Thesis, on Dragon Age by the way, until Summer, which blows, but what can you do, ya know?

That said, this chapter took forever for various reason, mainly because I don't think people talk about the Tranquil except for how horrible it must be to be one. While there's a whole lot of talk about it though, and quite a few one shots about being Tranquil, I don't think anyone's ever tried to make a Tranquil Warden. But the idea appealed to me, especially in terms of being able to share with people my own interpretations of what Owain tells us what being Tranquil is like, especially when he mentions how he knows exactly what his emotions felt like. That was the kick starter, as soon as he said that I couldn't get this idea out of my head.

Hopefully, I can finish this project, I've never finished a single piece of fanfiction, except for my one for City of Heroes back when I still played the game, but that thing has so many errors, it's not even funny. I might one day go back and re edit it, just for shits and giggles, but that'll be after I'm done with this.

Well till then, I'll be lurking, reading, reviewing, and writing like I always do.

Edit: It's always shit right at the end that is the most glaringly in need of redoing. The changes I made

-Konous.