A fair warning: this chapter is a tad more brutal than the previous ones, so if you're faint of heart, maybe skip the first few sections until Wynne's lines start. It's fairly...graphic.
Arcane Thedas –
A study into the magic of Thedas
By Talia Aulus
Chapter 2
The Fade.
What is it even? We don't really know for certain beyond what the Chantry teaches its subjects: that the Fade is the realm of spirits, demons and dreamers. For some reason though, Dwarves cannot enter. If only he knew what a curse he had escaped, maybe Varric would stop complaining at every chance.
However, what this section will concern itself with is not so much the Fade as it is its inhabitants. By now, I doubt anyone alive has yet to see a demon with his or her own eyes. The sundering above Haven definitely gave everyone a good chance at seeing both the Fade and assorted demons up close.
The most common intruders into our world from theirs would be the Wraiths. Despicably nimble creatures of ethereal make-up, who seem to possess a strong enough connection to the Fade for them to pelt their surroundings with bolts of its corruptive energies. The Wraiths mirror us humans in that they have our shape and size above the waist, whereas below they are nothing but a hovering fog. They drift around, more impeded by gravity than by any terrain they seem to encounter.
Suggested means of disposal: Fire, Lightning and physical impacts appear to have acceptable effect.
The second-most common foes to appear after the veil was torn were the Shades. At first glance, they appear similar to a sloth demon, possessing the same color and average size. However, Shades seem to come in two varieties as current research states. The lesser Shades are by far the most common, and are the ones typically confused with Sloth demons. The greater Shades seem to adorn themselves with a uniform, of sorts, consisting of a feathery rack down their backs, not unlike the top of a Legate's helmet. Both hover inches above the ground, floating around with a sluggishness concealing the actual speed they can suddenly move with. Threatwise, they are normally only dangerous in close combat, using powerful claws to tear apart even steel plate.
Suggested means of disposal: Fire, Lightning and physical impacts also here appear to have acceptable effect, with fire being the most potent by far. Weapons sheathed in fire will usually cut the Shades apart with little difficulty.
The third-most common foes would be either the Rage Demon or the Terror, both of which are luckily somewhat rare sightings on the battlefield.
The Rage demon seems to be made of a Fade-version of fire, burning with blistering heat, though without actually catching anything near it aflame. Current assumptions lie on the fires being deliberate, controlled by the demon in every aspect.
Suggested means of disposal: Lightning, Ice and physical or arcane impacts seem to have the greatest effect. Fire, naturally, have little impact on these creatures.
The Terror, true to its name, is a nightmare to merely behold. I have consulted scholars both in Thedas and Tamriel, and neither seem to believe Vaermina created it. Still, the name fits its bearer, as the Terror is a gangly creature with over-long arms and legs, carrying a humanoid body with a faceless head, having only a large mouth, on top. The Terror's skin is a sickly beige or yellow, with tints of red underneath the soles of its feet. Its threat consists of the claws on its hands and feet, both of which cut through armor with relative ease. While preferable to engage this creature at a distance, such is often difficult due to the Terror's ability to seemingly open small, brief tears in the Veil by itself, once in our world, then using those to appear, quite literally, at the unlucky victim's feet.
Suggested means of disposal: Fire, Lightning, and plentiful amounts of both.
Even so, it is a fact of Thedasian magic that their mages are under a great deal of duress. Far more so even than I in my younger days assumed. Demons do not need a rift or a tear in the Veil to enter our world. The only thing they need is a resource that is terrifyingly ready and available to them: mages.
While the mages of Tamriel do not need fear for demons in their dreams – as for reasons unknown only the inhabitants of Thedas enter the Fade upon sleep – this is for the simple reason that our magic does not stem from the Fade such as the magic of Thedas does, but from our connections to Atherius. As such, when we sleep, our minds remain our own, and sleep is as such a welcome reprieve for any and all weary souls in Tamriel.
Any Thedasian mage who sleeps, however, enters the Fade and thus provides a tempting meal for the demons of this otherworldly dimension. When such an event takes place, the mage in question faces a very real risk of possession by the demon.
It is, sadly, for this very reason that the people of Thedas prefer to lock their own brothers and sisters up in towers, rather than risk them turning in the village square.
The results of a turned mage are…gruesome.
Terror given Form
Bodies.
Dozens of them. Everywhere one looked: Bodies.
Talia had to hold a hand over her mouth as the group passed through abandoned dormitories and desolate hallways. The cavernous rooms that had once held students, children included, were now silent tombs for their former occupants. Mages and templars lay strewn about with generous hand, expressions twisted in horror and agony where 'abominations' had ripped them apart. The smell was nauseating, far too powerful to be natural rot.
Here and there, a grotesque mass of flesh and tattered robes would lie in a pool of viscous blood, cut and burnt enough that it was clear the dead around it had not gone down without a fight. In a corner inside the second dormitory, the very same Talia herself had woken up in after her Harrowing, two templars lay slain before a small group of dead mages, a larger group of abominations and unworldly horrors dead before them.
The Templars had obviously died to save their charges, for all the good that had done them. Talia couldn't look away from where the robed corpses lay piled, bloodied and torn to shreds by claws and fire. Her mouth tasted of bile. Poor fucks.
But the worst were the children.
Kids, not even Oren's age, would every so often come to view when Talia rounded a drawer of closet. Tiny, broken bodies with cold fingers desperately clutching small stuffed animals for support, or torn rags they'd sought to hide behind. The Breton stopped her eyes before they wandered to too many faces, all sharing the same expression of horror, confusion and a disbelief that sufficient evil to harm a child existed in this world.
"Stendarr and Mara…" she didn't care that no one else in the room followed the Divines. She still offered a prayer for the dead, mainly the children. Stendarr for the Justice that needed to be done, for strength against whatever horrors she would soon encounter. Mara, for her compassion towards the children. They needed that, if their souls were as lost as their expressions seemed distraught.
"This is bad…Really, really bad…" Alistair muttered, his voice as hoarse as hers. Talia didn't even have to look at him to know he was trying not to look at the dead. But there were so many, it was impossible to avert her gaze from one corpse, and not find another no matter where she looked; "Maker, even the children…"
"Abominations and Demons spare no one…They are jealous and cruel, indifferent to our suffering…unless they even enjoy it." Leliana's voice was the hardest Talia had yet to hear it, thick with restrained emotions that just wanted out. The arguments with Greagoir were already forgotten to the Breton, her mind now instead filled with images of the dead.
Amidst the fear, the horror and the disbelief, something else started stirring inside her.
Anger.
Anger at the evil, the needless cruelty that had borne this hellscape into being. The walls were coated with a red, sickly organic mass, sticking to the surfaces and slurping as it seemed to shift on its own. Anger, at the way so many had been mercilessly slaughtered, at the way children would never again see their parents. Anger, for the little hands clutching their stuffed animals.
"Maker have mercy…" It wasn't Leliana, Alistair or Aedan who spoke, but Daveth as the archer stopped dead in the corridor, swaying on his feet. Talia made her way towards him, even as the man continued; "Oh…Oh Shite…Shite…Shite!"
When she reached him, Talia had to turn herself away instantly, and painted the wall with vomit as she pressed her eyes shut for tears. Between them and the next door, lying on her back, a little girl with blonde pigtails and blue eyes had tried fleeing the massacre. Only one half was on the group's side of the closed door.
The wood was soaked in blood not yet dry.
Leliana, when she saw the scene, followed Talia's example, and retched onto the floor.
Talia's mind was swimming, a haze of nauseating horror and wrath mixing together in whatever fog her brain brought forth to dull her thoughts from the disgustingly evil sight before her. The little girl's eyes were glazed over in an expression of disbelieving surprise, dried trails running from her eyes down her cheeks.
If this was going to be what awaited them the throughout the entire Tower, Talia had rather seen Greagoir burn it to the ground. There was no way her sanity would survive this intact if everywhere was like this.
"We…we should…continue." Alistair managed to speak up, strained as his voice was. The agreement died in her throat as she realized what his words implicated: They had to move the dead body to go through. More bile wanted out, but was swallowed back down as Talia simply nodded. The others did as well, and Alistair knelt down, his face red with barely suppressed grief, and gingerly lifted the upper half of the dead girl from the floor.
When the small body left the floor, and innards started spilling out onto the feet of a horrified Alistair, Talia wasn't able to withhold a second wave of her stomach splashing over the tiles. Divines…
There was no answer from the gods, only the constantly echoing moans and wailing from further within the tower. Talia was, in the midst of this horrorscape, glad her classmates were not here to see it.
"This place…Gods, what in Oblivion…" she couldn't muster additional words, as Alistair opened the door with a slow creak, revealing the lower half of the body. The dissection had been so clean that the severed spine shone brightly as it glistered with blood. Intestines, far too many for it to be real, floated on the tiles like fat snakes from within the corpse. When the vomit rose again, and Talia smacked her hands over her mouth, it instead started spilling out her nostrils, burning and choking her as she gagged.
She didn't even register Aedan's hand on her shoulder, the other holding her hair as she gave in and retched the last of her stomach's contents out onto the ground. This was too much. She wanted to turn around, flee for the doors and bang on them until the Templars let her out.
But she knew she couldn't.
Molag Bal's private dimension made manifest as this obviously was, she knew she couldn't turn back. If she did, she'd be no better than the Templars who'd fled. But she was starting to understand why they had.
"We should continue…Can you walk, Talia?" Aedan's voice penetrated her sphere of disgust, and she turned to face him, cooling vomit clinging to her face. He withdrew a piece of cloth from somewhere, and gently wiped the smelly substance from her chin and upper lip. The retching had left her temporarily devoid of speech, so instead she merely nodded slowly, and accepted his hand when it helped her back up; "Daveth?"
When at first she thought Aedan was going to hand her over to the archer, Talia realized that Daveth hadn't moved an inch since he'd come across the halved body. His usually jesting and calm expression was replaced by wide, glazed eyes and a slack jaw. If he hadn't been standing, she might've taken him for a corpse.
"…yes?" his voice was far away, distant like Greagoir's had been. His eyes only slowly moved from thin air to Alistair, Leliana and then Aedan; "…I…
"Come on, we need to get moving." Alistair's voice was urgent, but not indifferent to Daveth's obvious distress; "I heard shouting up ahead, not far away. There may be survivors."
"…Right." It was fairly easy to hear that the determination in Daveth's voice was forced, and not real, but the fact that he still was able to speak clearly was testament enough to his resolve. Closing his eyes and taking a long, deep breath, Daveth stepped past the dead girl and walked with long, shaking strides towards the next door, as no one felt like examining the next dormitory as well. Survivors would have heard them if there'd been any.
The corridor curved slightly towards the left as they walked in silence. Talia relied on Aedan's hands to even keep walking, and both her hands were occupied with either clutching her staff or him for support. Gods, if Father saw her now, he'd…most likely be far more concerned at the events taking place within the tower than his daughter's reaction to it. Shit.
The worst part about her weakness, viewed objectively, was that it wasn't even physical. Her mind was utterly wracked with horrid images of death and blood, and her knees were shaking under the stress of fear suppressing the anger she'd felt at the injustice of the situation. When Alistair forced open the heavy door ahead of them and stepped in, she followed without even bothering to process the view before her, expecting it to be the same as before.
Except that it wasn't, not quite. From where she came into the room, she stared straight across it to a shimmering field of blue energy. On the other side of it, a familiar sight tried slipping through the magic field as it moved on a single, snail-like foot. The fiery demon growled and roared as a surge of energy without warning slapped it down, pounding it with arcane blast after blast until it finally gave an enraged howl and fell through the stone floor.
When Talia finally had the presence of mind to look slightly to the right, she saw the blasts' source. An old woman in red robes, wielding a staff that looked like it could crack a skull if need be. The old woman's eyes were set with weariness and suspicion, and it took the shell-shocked and younger mage several seconds to recall why this old mage was so familiar.
"…you?" it was far from eloquent, but with her mental state being what it was, it was actually surprising she even had the initiative to speak up. She remembered the old woman from her stay here, and Ostagar as well. Wynne, was her name. She was one of the more senior mages at the tower, which had to be the reason she was still alive.
Her, and the dozen kids and younger mages huddled around the room's corners, hiding behind pillars and mages older than themselves. There even was a templar, who, much as Talia normally wouldn't have tolerated the notion – current circumstances forced her distaste for the armored men straight down the latrine – was a clear source of the safety the children clung to. Much to her surprise, Talia recognized him as well; "…and, you?"
"Come no further, Grey Warden or…Is it you?" Wynne replied, her stance shifting to confusion when she obviously recognized the people she'd met at Ostagar. Doubt and confusion played across her features in flashes, replacing themselves with anger and distress in-between; "Are you finally here to witness the fall of the Circle?"
"No…" Talia muttered in return, too wracked with shock to mount a defensive rant against the old woman. Honestly, she was also way beyond caring at this point. She just wanted this to end. And I cannot even walk back and demand to be let out…and if I blew a hole in the wall, those…things, could escape as well…; "We're just…here to help…and because we need your help as well…"
The anger in Wynne's gaze practically evaporated as she ran her eyes over the group. Of the lot of them, Talia dully realized, only Aedan and Alistair walked straight. Daveth was swaying on shaking legs, and Leliana was looking sick with sweat and tremors.
"…you saw the bodies." It wasn't a question, and it wasn't voiced as one either. Wynne just sighed as she seemed to take their expressions as answer enough; "And I assume you were told the Circle had already fallen…did the Templars ask you to partake in the Annulment?"
"No, and we managed to stop the messenger sent for reinforcements. Greagoir was willing to let us try getting through before resuming his request for it." Alistair explained when it was clear Talia wasn't able to respond.
"But he sent for it, then?" the Templar asked in a defeated tone as he stepped forward, his eyes bearing deep bags underneath, and his blonde hair smeared with dried blood. Talia only dimly recognized him, at least completely, when she heard his voice. His appearance was too harried to make out. When she nodded, he bit back a curse; "Damn it, I was afraid they might have… But what else could they do, really? If they assume we're all either dead or possessed, there's nothing else left. The Knight-Commander must believe we're all dead…he wouldn't take such steps if he still had hope."
"Regardless of Greagoir's hopes, he has abandoned us to our fate, Cullen. But even trapped as we are, we have survived…"
"Not if he invokes the Right of Annulment." Cullen groaned tiredly, weary eyes going over the children and young mages if the room. Talia only now noticed that some of the scrawny boys carried short swords; "…If they do, we won't be able to hold…"
"How…did all this happen?" Leliana whispered, looking at her surroundings; "So much death, how could this come to be?"
Not even Daveth in his state could have missed the way Wynne's eyes hardened in anger at the question, and Talia felt for the first time the raw power radiating from the old woman. She had underestimated her from the beginning, that much was clear.
"Let it suffice to say that we had something of a revolt on our hands. Uldred, when he returned from Ostagar, led a coup to take over the Circle…" Wynne's lips pursed in a sardonic grimace; "as you can see, his plan didn't quite work as intended. I do not know what became of him, but I am certain this is all his doing, somehow. I will not lose this Circle to one man's stupidity and pride."
"What do we do? This is your tower, you would know better than we." Aedan asked as he did his visibly best to straighten, one arm still slung under Talia's to keep her legs from betraying her.
"I erected a barrier over the door leading to the rest of the tower. With Cullen's help, I made it so that no demon or abomination could get through to harm the others." Wynne explained to the group as she walked among them, placing blue-glowing hands on their backs as she went. Talia wasn't sure what the woman healed, nothing was physically wrong with her, but her legs ceased trembling when the older woman's hand had left her back; "As long as the barrier holds, you will not be able to pass through to the rest of the tower. I will dispel it, if you join with me to save this Circle."
Had Talia not been mentally scarred for life at the things she had seen walking through the corridors, she might have been so petty as to turn the woman down, or at the very least find the irony amusing, like she'd done when Greagoir presented his case earlier. Now, she merely nodded in confirmation.
"Once the Knight-Commander sees we have made the tower safe, no doubt he will recall the Annulment and have the others stand down." Cullen added, his voice rough and trembling, likely from the stress he'd been subjugated to.
"I fear I must ask that you remain here, Ser Cullen. Look after the others, they will need protection once the barrier is no more." Wynne's words clearly upset the man. Cullen's brows furrowed and his jaw set hard.
"Petra and Kinnon are-" he began heatedly, only for Wynne's calm voice to stop him;
"-injured, tired and in need of your protection." Wynne's eyes went to a pair of mages, both women and hardly a year older than Talia; "Far more than me, I suspect."
"If you believe it wise, Wynne…I will abide." Cullen sighed, a groan behind it as he stood straight, blowing a final huff of hot air; "Andraste walk with you."
"And Maker watch over you, Ser Cullen." Wynne replied as the group stepped up to the shimmering field. When Cullen was far enough away, Wynne's voice lowered to a soft mutter; "…I am somewhat amazed at his resilience through this."
Talia realized with a start that the comment wasn't just broad speech, but meant for her in particular. Swallowing her resentment at the situation, she looked back at where the Templar gathered the rest of the children, robed or no, in the corner of the room with the few adult mages as well. Biased as she was, she could still see that the young ones trusted the templar.
"He…seems like a good man."
"He is. Young and naïve, maybe, but his sanity has been retained throughout this nightmare." Wynne replied knowingly as she dispelled the shield, and they all stepped through the now cleared doorway. Behind them, Cullen drew his sword as the adult mages started working on getting a new barrier up.
"Was he the only one to survive…this?" Talia found herself asking, curious in spite as they made their way through the darkened corridors. Wailing and roars could still constantly be heard echoing through the rooms.
"In truth, he almost wasn't…"Wynne's lips seemed like they could not decide whether to settle on a sad frown or a small smile, then chose the frown; "he was caught in a barrier of sorts when this started. I suspect he would still be trapped there, had it not been for Cíada. She broke the barrier and helped him escape the demons. I believe she also managed to kill quite a few of them…"
"Could she help us, then, if she managed to…She died, didn't she?" Talia's question was punctuated with a defeated sigh. It was just their luck, really. Wynne's lips pursed into a thin line;
"When Cullen arrived at the barrier, he looked behind him as if to make sure she was there…" Wynne's tired sigh conveyed enough that Talia was starting to get an idea as to why Cullen had wanted to come with them; "When he saw that she was not, and that we had survivors in need of protection, Cullen chose his duty over personal feelings…"
"Rage Demon!" Alistair's shout was early deafened by the roar the demon made as it rose from the floor like a plume of smoke. Its face, if it could be called that, was a stretch of marred tissue burned beyond recognition by the still smoldering flames flickering throughout its body.
Talia whipped her staff out and smacked the demon across the room and into a book-shelf with a lightning bolt. When the towering shelves collapsed and caught fire on top of the demon, Talia expected the fiery bastard to pop out and resume its attack.
When it did, she repeated hers, this time following it up with a shard of ice through its head. The demon lost its footing and skidded backwards, offering a final howl of rage before Wynne flattened it with a blast of arcane energy. It sunk back into the floor with a hateful cry, echoing throughout the room.
"Well, that worked…" Daveth offered, lowering his bow. He hadn't even managed to get a single arrow off before the two mages had sent the demon back to whatever dark hole it crawled out of. Technically it would be a tear in the Veil, but Talia didn't have the mindfulness to remember that right now; "Where'd this First Enchanter Irving be at, you think?"
"Let us try his office, first." Wynne's eyes went idly to the ceiling, like she was trying to peer through the stone. Talia didn't put it past Thedasian magic, alien as it sometimes was, to have that in storage; "If not, then we must simply proceed until we do find him."
"So essentially, we wade through all the demons? You know, the demons too numerous for all the Templars in the entrance hall to deal with?" Aedan asked with a dubious tone to his voice, making it clear that he wasn't a fan of it; "Those demons?"
"Yes, those demons." Was all Wynne offered in return, then whipped forward her staff as a grotesque hulk of flesh, one of those abominations, came wandering into view, followed by first one, then two of similar make. Piss; "As well as the abominations. I fear there are quite a lot."
Instead of an arcane blast, this time Wynne whipped her staff upwards, and the tiles beneath the first abomination bulged upwards and exploded, forming a fist that smashed into the monster, sending it flying. Before it started falling again, Daveth had already planted an arrow in its face – what looked like a face anyway – and notched a second by the time it hit the ground with a wet crunch of meat tearing and bones breaking. Undeterred, its fellows surged forward, arms outstretched with mangling claws decorating each.
Suddenly, it wasn't all that hard to imagine how the templars had been ripped to pieces.
It didn't stop Aedan and Alistair from forming up as a wall between them though, swords pointed over the rims of their shields as they met the abominations head on. Even as they clashed, and Talia and Wynne shot fire and healed respectively, more surged from the large doorway, an almost mindless determination in their movements. Talia joined her group in hacking, slashing, shooting and blasting the creatures, even as she kept an eye on the doorway. With her luck, this wasn't even the worst they were going to come up against.
But anger made for oh so good a stamina draught, and she whipped the staff back and forth, fireballs shooting from one end before a bolt of lightning was shot from the other. Keeping the staff's center balanced, but in a centrifugal state meant that the offensive spells would pack more power. Which was good.
And because something was good – relatively speaking – something bad had to happen.
As she sent another abomination flying with a fireball catching it in the chest, if it could be called that, something new stepped through the doorway. Vaermina's blood!
The creature was pale, its skin a sickly bright-yellow color like an infested wound. Its gait was gangly and awkward due to its long, thin legs and equally long arms fastened on a human-sized body, supporting a head that just didn't have a face. There was an impossibly large mouth centered in the front of the head, but nothing else. No eyes, no nose, no ears. Just the mouth, and rows upon rows of needle-sharp teeth.
Talia decided she didn't want that thing up close. She ceased casting spells, focusing more power into the Oblivion-runes near the end of the staff, and held it back when she felt the staff thrumming with ready power.
"Alistair, Aedan! Move to the side!" she yelled, releasing the spell in that same instant. Both did as she shouted with little to no hesitation, allowing the Blight Fire to sprint past, leaping over the heads of the regular abominations as it set a course for the new version.
When it reached it, the creature swiped at the burning wolf with its clawed hands, knocking the wolf to the ground. Not that it mattered, as the crumbled form still detonated in the next instant, a fireball swallowing its surroundings as the gangly creature vanished into the ground.
"Got you, you ugly fu-Fuck!" Talia's declaration became an exclamation as the ground beneath her feet swirled in a dark, sickly green vortex. Instead of sucking her down though, it spat out the gangly demon, knocking her back on her ass. She hit the floor, hard, but managed to drop her staff and roll with it, coming back up in a crouch, whereupon she grabbed the staff again.
"Wynne! What is that thing!" she yelled, jumping back as the demon swiped at her. The very tips of its claws scratched across her forearms, leaving long scratches in the steel. Had the runes been merely superficial, she'd have lost their use right then and there. To keep the demon away, she channeled fire into the blade and swung the staff around like a halberdier.
"It's a Terror!" Wynne's voice took on a tone of panic; "That means there is a tear in the Veil somewhere close by."
"I don't care what it means, I want to know-ugh!" Talia was interrupted when the Terror actually tried biting her face off. She vaulted back, using the butt of her staff as a counterweight and slashed at the thing's offending mouth with the burning blade. Which was definitely ranking amongst the best things ever invented by the enchanters of High Rock; "-know how to kill it!"
"It's a demon, so lightning should work quite well." Why was it this thing completely ignored Wynne when the old woman was so close by? Couldn't she make a good distraction and allow Talia to fry its face off? At least it seemed to respect the fact that she was waving flaming steel at its face, even if it wasn't doing her much good, seeing how everyone else were locked in combat with something equally nasty.
So to buy some more time to think, she slashed at it again. This time though, she overdid it, and the demon got a grip on her staff. Try as she might, no matter how desperately she ripped and tore, Talia couldn't get her weapon free from the demon's grasp. Which was just about the biggest downside for any mage using a staff.
Instead, she let go of it and gathered both hands for a single lightning bolt. It would be considerably weaker than if she'd used the staff, – which was currently held by a momentarily confused demon, maybe it didn't know what to do if a mage just abandoned her staff - but it was still the most effective thing against demons.
Which meant when she released the spell, the demon recoiled and dropped the staff, leaping backwards and knocking over Leliana in the process. The girl had the bright idea to roll away the moment she regained her senses, leaving Talia to catch the falling staff with her foot, then yank it back up into her hands before blasting the Terror again with a more powerful strike of electricity. When the demon came at her again, now with an abomination in tow, she was ready for them, and hosed flames all over both from the round end of her staff.
The abomination shrieked and caught fire, flailing as it ran away. Blinded by the flames, the creature ran into another of the tall shelves, causing the entire thing to collapse and crush the abomination underneath a ton of books and boards. The Terror, however, was another matter entirely. When her flames had started charring its skin, it dove into another of the swirling holes in the floor.
Not wanting a repetition of earlier, Talia vaulted the moment this happened, and the demon thus came up on bare floor, instead of knocking over the Breton in the process. Before it managed to track her down – not difficult when she was right in front of it – Talia slashed the demon open from shoulder to waist with the burning blade, then stabbed the wailing creature with lightning as it prepared to dive again.
It was knocked on its scrawny ass, however, when Alistair did…the thing, that involved spreading his arms out, and a familiar pillar of light came from nowhere and slammed the demon to the floor. Taking her anger out on the downed Terror, Talia leapt forward and speared it through the head with the electrified staff-blade. With a final shriek, the demon dissolved into dust.
Compared to that, the rest of the group was a bunch of pushovers. Murderous, horrifyingly hideous monsters, yes, but still relative pushovers.
"I say…becoming a Warden is starting to involve more demons than actual Darkspawn, you know?" Daveth groaned as he nursed a place where something, a Rage Demon most likely, had singed his skin. Wynne had him look almost foolish when a snap of blue magic from her had his skin restored to its…not pristine, but at least intact state.
"You could always apply for the Vigilantes." Talia offered with a shrug as she yanked the bladed end of her staff from an abomination's dead body, then watched as it dissolved and rotted away. Not liking the smell – or the sight, for that matter – Talia sped things up with a dose of flames; "I'm sure they'd be overjoyed to have any of us. We're killing more demons than…something. Damn, that was better when I was thinking it…"
The effects of the initial horrorscape were starting to let go of her, mainly due to her getting relief by killing scores of abominations and demons. The former might be tough, but they fell apart right quick when they got a dose of Wynne's 'floor-to-the-face', or Talia's lightning bolts. Either way worked.
"The Vigilantes, they are the Demon hunters of your homeland, yes?" Leliana inquired as she checked the shoulderpad she'd been forced to smack against the floor to get out of the Terror's way. Talia nodded;
"They're actually the ones hunting Daedra, not Demons…though honestly, having seen the Terror there…" she muttered, looking at where the damn thing had turned into dust like the world's creepiest reanimation; "…I'm starting to wonder just how much of a difference there are between the Daedra and these demons…haven't seen a Dremora yet though, so that's at least a small blessing…"
"What is this 'Dremora', you mention?" Wynne asked, one crinkled brow raised; "I am not familiar with the term."
"Oh boy…" Daveth sighed. Talia shot the archer a short glance, mostly because she was as frustrated as he appeared to be, and was the only one of the two who had the right to be so. She gave the room a quick scan, making sure no more monsters would be creeping from the shadows, or possessing the corpses of templars and mages both, so generously strewn about.
"Dremora are…It's a difficult question." Maybe that would save her having to launch into an explanation worthy of its own book while they were traversing a nightmarish tower of death and demons; "Suffice to say, they are much akin to a demon in a human body. The possession, if you will, does not horribly mutate the Dremora…" – basically because there never was a human there to begin with – "and the end result is a humanoid creature, often with dark or green skin, fangs and a will to slaughter just for the joy of it."
"…I see." Was all Wynne said, which annoyed the Breton to no end, though she refused to give voice to it. If Wynne would just focus on keeping them all healed, which was nice – no mistake there – Talia could focus a lot more of keeping the demons attacking them dead; "These stairs lead to the second floor."
"What's up there?" Daveth asked, notching an arrow already.
"…The chambers of those who have passed the Harrowing." Wynne almost sounded like she wasn't too keen on diverging that information. Not that Talia cared in the slightest about whether or not something was a Circle secret. Just because she was busting her butt trying to save its mages, didn't mean she had anything but contempt for the tower or its Circle in its own right. It was still a prison: she was just here trying to save the inmates; "As well as Irving's office, the upper libraries and the stockrooms…"
"So we'll find Irving up there?" Talia almost didn't dare hope for a 'yes', what with everything going completely off its knockers around her. The images from the first two minutes in the Tower still burned through her mind like Sheogorath had taken up residence in it. Which, she really hoped he hadn't done.
"We can only hope." Wynne's reply was not exactly a great motivator, but it seemed to work for Alistair, as he took the lead up the stairs. The way they twisted around on a one-eighty, reminded the Breton a great deal of the stairs to the Arch mage's office. The only difference was that said man's office was a great deal smaller than the room the stairs finally led them into.
Talia, eager to get a few meters between herself and the older mage, started walking towards a door centered in the middle of a nearby wall.
"Please refrain from going into the stockrooms…" the tranquil, deceptively calm voice almost made her jump out of her skin, and she instinctively whipped her staff towards the source of it. The man before her, semi-bald and dressed in dark-green and purple robes, didn't appear upset in the least; "It is a mess and not fit to be seen."
"Oblivion's piss! You scared the hell out of me!" the Breton hissed, lowering her staff as she realized how contradictive it was to be scared of survivors when that was just what they were hoping to find: someone alive.
"I apologize. It was not my intention." Again with a voice calm enough to lull a psychopathic serial-killer to sleep. And also enough to make her nerves twitch. There was something wrong with this guy; "Wynne. I am glad to see you are well."
"Owain, you're alive." Wynne's voice took on just enough warmth to deviate from the tone she'd constantly been using on their group.
"What…are you doing up here?" Because honestly, Talia couldn't see what the hell could be important enough that this man kept working while up to the ears in demons; "Seriously, what the hell are you doing?"
"I was trying to tidy up…but there was little else I could do…" when Owain looked her straight in the eyes, it was as if there wasn't a person in there at all. Normally, one would assume a man with a sun-tattoo to be a bit more…well, not normal, but lively.
"…and, you didn't just leave? Because?"
"I tried to, when things got quiet again. That was when I encountered the barrier. Finding no other way out, I returned to work."
"Is this guy…sane?" Talia's question caused Wynne's brows to furrow…Owain was seriously starting to unnerve the Breton ever so horribly. It was like he was…tranquil.
Julianos' ballsack, was this what Jowan had meant when he described 'being Tranquil'?
"Owain, you should have said something." Wynne sighed, clearly irritated by the man. Talia's mind was elsewhere though, storming with questions and theories; "I would have opened the door for you."
"The stockroom is familiar: I prefer to be here" was all the reply Owain returned. Gods above, this man was utterly bonkers. Not strange that Jowan had mentioned preferring death to being made tranquil, if this was what it entailed.
"So…you're just going to stay here?" Aedan asked, half-joking, half-unnerved by the sound of it. When Talia glanced at him, he caught it and returned a worried nod. She had no idea what he was nodding at, but nodded as well regardless of it.
"I would prefer not to die." Prefer? This man would 'prefer' not to die? Stendarr…; "I would prefer it if the tower was returned to the way it was. Perhaps Niall will succeed and save us all…But I would stay here in the meantime."
"Who's Niall?"
"He was at a meeting." Wynne muttered to her side; "Owain, succeed at what?"
"What meeting?"
"I do not know." Owain replied, and for a moment Talia thought he was talking to her; "He came through with several others, looking for the Litany of Andralia."
"The what of who?" when no one replied, Talia just scowled and tightened the grip on her staff. Wynne, however, actually answer her, sort of;
"But that protects against mind domination. Is blood magic at work here?" and there was the reason Alistair had not brought Jowan with them, it seemed. If the former Templar really had thought that far ahead, Talia owed him a notch up in the intelligence-scales.
"I do not know." Owain muttered with a somber look, giving just the slightest of shrugs. Wynne scowled and turned to Talia and the others;
"Niall was at the meeting held when I returned from Ostagar." It sounded almost like she was talking to herself while looking at them; "He would know. Blood magic. I was afraid of this."
"Let's play ignorant here, and pretend I have no idea how Blood magic makes this worse…" Talia half offered, half asked with a frown as Wynne's eyes became disapproving of the ceiling. To be fair, there was a good bit of that red, organic and smelly stuff clinging to it. It reminded Talia of something worshippers of Namira, few that they were, would fancy as interior décor; "How does it make this worse?"
"Blood magic…Damn…" Alistair grumbled. Wynne nodded slightly and regarded Talia with narrowed, slightly doubtful eyes;
"Blood magic could control us, too. Who knows what could happen then? We need to find Niall and the Litany of Andralia. It is our best chance at stopping this madness, before it is too late." Wynne said, then turned to Owain again; "Owain, you said Niall was here with others. Who?"
"I do not remember their faces. Niall was the only one who spoke to me." the Tranquil replied, his tone just as somber as before; "Cíada was here when Niall came though. She went with him."
"So she still lives." Wynne released an audible sigh of relief; "Thank Andraste for small mercies."
"Yes." Was all Owain had to add on that account; "I think it would be good if you hurried."
Not bothering to argue with the clearly lobotomized man, because being Tranquil was painfully obvious now, that it was nothing holier than a simple lobotomizing, cruel as that was, Talia started making her way towards the only other doorway in the central room, this one leading to a small library.
"Uldred has gone mad!" a voice hissed up ahead.
"And now we're doomed to die by those who seek to right our wrongs…" another, female voice replied in a shaky tone. Talia was about to approach when he felt a hand on her shoulder. Thinking it was Aedan, she looked up only to see Alistair's expression set in stone.
"Blood mages." He whispered harshly. Talia was about to ask how the hell he could tell that, but then felt something familiar in the air. It was the same sensation she'd gotten when Jowan had made the woman at the ambush bash her own brains out, and she forgot all about arguing.
"Be quiet, I- I heard something." A third whispered, though audibly enough that the Breton could easily hear it. Alistair chose that moment to step out of the doorway, arms spread wide as he sent a blast of light slamming into the congregation of blood mages, all three standing around a dead abomination.
All three were sent flying, and Talia had a bolt of lightning char a hole into the first, a man, before he'd even hit the ground. An arrow, followed by another, found the same target in the next instant, sending a bearded olding to the floor with his heart and throat perforated. Alistair was already running forward when the arrows had been flying, and was about to send his sword through the heart of the last of the blood mages, a woman, when she threw her hands up in surrender. It was enough that he hesitated.
"Please, don't kill me!" she pleaded, her tears running from wide, frightened eyes.
"The people you've killed didn't want to die either, I'd wager." Alistair ground out, keeping the tip of his sword at the woman's throat. She cleverly made no attempt at getting up.
"I know I have no right to ask for mercy, but I- none of us meant for this death and destruction. We were just trying to free ourselves. Uldred told us that if the Circle would support Loghain, he would help us be free of the Chantry." Her eyes ran from one person to the next, silently pleading even as she spoke; "You- you don't know what it's like. The Templars were watching, always watching…"
There was an uncomfortable knot starting to form in Talia's chest at the woman's words.
"What you've done here will make things worse for future mages." Aedan shot at her, shaking his head; "Why would you ever do something like this?"
"We-" she swallowed audibly; "we thought someone always has to take the first step. Someone had to force change, no matter… no matter what the cost." And the knot in Talia's chest wasn't going away.
"Nothing is worth what you've done to this place." Wynne was next in line, apparently, to rain down the blame; "Using Blood magic to prove the Chantry wrong. Foolish and carelessness leading to untold deaths."
"We didn't mean for anyone to die." The woman argued meekly, desperately as well; "Please. Uldred has gone mad. We're scattered, fleeing and doomed to die because we did what we thought was right…"
"Have you seen the bodies, down below?" Talia asked, forcing her voice to remain level as the images burned through her mind again; "Was that you and yours doing that?"
"…I don't know." She whispered, looking down as much as she could without poking an eye on the tip of Alistair's blade; "I lost sight of what was going on when abominations started killing everyone. We never planned for abominations or demons…" she glanced at the dead; "Soreh, Andal and I were just trying to survive…"
There it was again. The forming knot in her chest as Talia's mind was brought back to her imprisonment here, when she had contemplated killing her way to either freedom or vengeance. The fact that the woman on the floor also had both red hair and green eyes, didn't help her not compare herself to the blood mage.
Had Duncan not come by, this was likely how she herself would have ended up. Pleading for my life in the face of armor and swords…
"You know we cannot allow a Blood mage to live." Alistair more or less declared, his sword pressing maybe an inch closer to the woman's throat. Talia rose a brow at the hypocrisy in his statement, but perhaps he was simply forgetting they had Jowan in their group, waiting at the shore with the others.
"But I…I would…a chance, to atone for what I have done. Please, if you spare me, I…I could help somehow, seek penance with the Chantry. I just want my life."
"You know they'd never take you…" Alistair scoffed in a manner so akin to Morrigan's that Talia blinked at the mocking anger in his voice. This was a first; "They're very picky about who they let in. Harlots, bandits, murderous rapists? Yes. Maleficarum? Oh, no."
"Your Chantry sounds even more biased than I thought." Talia scoffed right back at him, then looked at Leliana; "didn't you tell me your Chantry takes in everyone?"
"It does. The Chantry is open to all, regardless of their crimes." Leliana nodded, thus receiving a scowl Alistair sent to both redheads; "It does."
"Well then, it seems you're familiar with a whole different Chantry than me." his fingers tightened around the sword's grip; "The one I am familiar with wouldn't hesitate to shove a Sword of Mercy through her heart. Right through the middle, I kid you not."
"If she'd used something else, Alistair, would that have been better?" Talia asked, taking a step closer to the fuming warrior. When he did have the decency of appearing confused, she continued; "What if she'd used fireballs instead? Killed every templar from here to the main doors? Would that have been better?"
"I…of course not." he ground out with something between a growl and a mutter; "She'd still be a murderer and an apostate. Why?"
"How long have you been in this tower?" Talia instead turned and asked the pleading woman on the floor. It took a few moments for her to process the question, apparently;
"Sin- since I was five." She stuttered weakly. Talia nodded, appearing to the world as if she was going over a lot of details, thinking things over in a dozen different ways. In truth, she was just confirming something, and turned back to Alistair;
"I was imprisoned here for not even two days, and I was ready to do just that, when Duncan showed up and recruited me, Alistair." Her hand tightened on the grip of her staff; "In your logic then, I would have been a murderer and an apostate, for the simple act of fighting for my freedom."
"Wait…when did this change subject?" Alistair's confusion had his sword sway enough away from the Blood mage's throat that she finally dared more than shallow breaths.
"If it's all the same whether she'd used fireballs or blood magic, then it's not even really the blood magic that's the…Shit, this is getting too much." She rubbed her temples as her attempt at arguing with the former templar led her to a dead end; "Look, we're in a hurry, so just let her go to the Chantry and let's be on our way."
"I'm honestly starting to wonder if you're going to end up campaigning for 'Maleficarum to be treated as good people' some day…" Alistair growled, looked at his sword and back at Talia again; "Can either of you give me a good reason not to let death be her penance?"
"Other than if you do, you'll probably rank amongst the most hypocritical bastards I've ever met?" she dared him, her eyes made of flint and fire as they stared each other down. To Alistair's defense, he likely only lost the staring contest because his mind was obviously working out the deeper meanings of what she'd just said; "And that's coming from me."
"Fine." He bit back whatever retort he'd have hurled out afterwards, removing his sword from the trembling woman's throat; "Scurry off. See if the Chantry will be as merciful as we're made to believe."
It didn't take the woman ten seconds to vanish from sight, leaving a frowning Wynne and a lightly scowling Alistair to focus their attention at the Breton, who – for the moment – didn't care one way or another if sparing the blood mage had stepped on some toes. If Alistair wanted to give her shit about it, he was welcome to do so. Back at camp.
The group, led by Wynne who made do with silent disapproval of Talia's actions, made its way through the corridors after leaving the room behind. They encountered more demons and abominations in the hallways, but compared to the first large group, these were rarely more than three at a time, and were sent packing before everyone could strike twice. Talia sent one crashing into a wide-open door, ripping it off its hinges as both door and demon struck the wall behind, whereupon the demon dissolved.
"This is Irving's study." Wynne noted as Alistair peeked inside. When Talia did as well, she saw dozens upon dozens of books, some thick tomes bound in leather, others thin books in newer materials. Scrolls also filled what shelves hadn't been knocked down, and important-looking papers covered the floor; "So he is not here."
No shit; "I wonder if Onmund's belongings are in here…" Talia muttered instead to herself, looking around. Onmund was always, to her knowledge of his habits, carrying around a version of the 'Night of Tears', for some reason. Maybe it was simply because it was his, but Talia wanted to see if the book was here, and if it was, bring it with them.
"What are you looking for in Irving's study?" Wynne inquired with a mildly irritated tone; "I was to believe that he gave me all your belongings for me to bring to Ostagar?"
"Not mine…" Talia wished the reply had come out stronger, but her voice was reduced to a weak muttering as she went through the titles and covers on the shelves. Thick, leather-bound book. Thick, leather-bound book; "Onmund's…"
"Onm…I see." Wynne replied, her voice considerably softer than it had been just earlier. Talia tried not to pay the old woman any mind as she went through the books, uncaring if she messed up the old goat's personal collection. When her fingers finally found a thick, leather-bound tome, she pulled it out.
"That's… not Onmund's.." she muttered, looking at a depiction of a leafless tree on the book's front; "It looks like a tome on Alteration…"
"Tamriel magic?" Daveth peeked over her shoulder; "Bring it. Why not?"
"It is not of Alteration, as such." Wynne's voice slightly startled the Breton, who'd honestly forgotten she was there; "This is a Grimoire, an old tome said to belong to the Witches of the Wilds."
"Wait, this thing's Morrigan's?" Daveth almost instinctively retreated back a step, as if the book was going to come alive and turn him into a newt. Talia eyed the book over, then handed it to the wimpy archer. He wasn't carrying anything but his own arrows, he could stand to carry a single book. After all…I am a mage, not a pawnbroker…
"It's said to belong to Flemeth of the Wilds. Legends, naturally, but…what did you just say?" Wynne's eyes went from one book-handler to the other. Talia sighed;
"It's not Morrigan's, Daveth. It's her mother's…still, I wouldn't mind at least stealing from Irving if his survival is going to be essential to us getting out of here again…" she pointedly ignored Wynne's outburst until then, before turning to the old mage; "We met Flemeth in the Kocari Wilds, just before shit went down in Ostagar. She saved two of my friends from death: I think it's only fair to return this as repayment."
Not that she ever thought it would be enough, but maybe it would go a ways to mellow Morrigan, at least.
Talia almost chortled with laughter at the impossibility of that notion. Instead, she continued picking along the shelves until she was forced to resign to the idea that Onmund's book just wasn't there. It wasn't like she couldn't just borrow Brelyna's version, if she felt like reading it, it was just the principle of it all that hurt so badly when she left the office behind.
With this being one level further up, it was less spacious than the first, and as such held only the facilities for Harrowed mages, and a set of straight stairs leading to the next level. Since Wynne hadn't proclaimed any of the ravaged corpses they passed to be Niall, logic would have it that he was somewhere above, up these stairs. The thing just was, when they came to the top of said stairs, no one was there.
There was not a single corpse, demon or abomination to be found. No dead templars hanging on spikes, no blood mages running around, and no regular mages…running around, either. Just plain nothing, except for a sense of lull, like a heavy, humid fog akin to the hot summers of Daggerfall.
"Where…is everyone?" Wynne asked out loud as they moved slowly through the corridors. The smelly, red organic mess covered more of the walls up here, as if they were getting closer to the source. Maybe it was like a plant? Talia had never been to Morrowind, but Brelyna once recounted the unique flora found in the volcanic lands, specifically red fungus and ivy.
Except this was more akin to meat, than plants. A shudder went down her spine at the thought.
"Taking a break?" Alistair suggested. Talia was still somewhat pissed at him for his overly willing stance towards executing the blood mage earlier. Crimes or no, the Breton couldn't stop seeing herself lying where the blood mage had, beaten and broken after trying to escape this prison. Would the Templars have held back in the least, even? They are almost all men, would they- No, no they would just kill me.
There was a strange sense of relief to that, really.
A sense of relief that might as well have been kicked out one of the small windows for just how quickly it fell to a renewed pit of terror. When they rounded a corner, coming upon the central chamber, she saw the biggest demon she'd ever seen, or even imagined so far.
"Fucking…" the demon – it had to be a demon – was easily six meters tall, hovering a few inches above the floor with a single, glazed circle of light filling the role of an eye. She couldn't see a mouth, but the creature was covered in odd drapes and robes, so she wasn't ruling out one akin to the Terror downstairs.
"Ah…Visitors…" the demon drawled out in what sounded most of all like one long yawn. Could demons get tired? Exhausted? If so, that was good; "I would…entertain you, but…too much effort involved."
Actually, she was feeling damned near exhausted herself. It was a common fact that yawns spread from person to person like a cold, so was the same true if a demon was tired? If so, that was not so good. Still…
"What the piss are you supposed to be?" she asked, crossing her arms as her eyelids became heavier. Damn, she needed something strong, or she'd end up falling asleep before she at least had a chance at kicking Irving over the shin; "And why aren't you attacking us?"
"Why would I?" it drowsed again; "Aren't you tired of all the violence in this world?"
"I'm kind of a violent individual." She retorted, smirking at the way it visibly hesitated. It gave her a bit of a pepper-up despite the inane weariness settling in her bones.
"But… wouldn't you like to just…lay down and…forget about it all?" damn… Wait, maybe the weariness was… connected to this…this demon somehow. So far, she'd found demons named after different…different emotions, right? Gods, it was… getting… hard to think straight. She was starting to feel like she'd just been through a marathon of everything Winterhold's surprisingly… well-stocked tavern could boast.
"Resist!" Wynne called out, startling Talia a little. She knew falling asleep now, even for just a short nap, could be dangerous. There were still dangers about in the tower, and…and the others…they needed her. Or, did they? Maybe… maybe she…; "We must resist else we are all lost!"
"Can't…keep eyes open." Alistair groaned; "Somebody pinch me."
Talia obliged, though it seemed to have little effect aside from a muttered exclamation of pain. Shit, this was actually bad. If everyone was suddenly going to be falling asleep, a single abomination could wander in and rip them open with no difficulty whatsoever.
"Why do you fight?" the demon asked, sounding surprised at something. Talia, aware now that her tiredness was simply this cretin's work, scowled;
"Why are you trying to piss me off?"
"Because you deserve more…." The demon's lone eyes focused on her, even as the staff fell clattering from Talia's hands; "You deserve… a rest. Sleep. The world will go on without you."
Talia's eyes blinked at the darkness, and light slowly found its way back into the world. She shifted her weight, feeling the bed creak beneath her as she rubbed her tired eyes. Gods, what a dream.
Everything had been…so real, it was hard to imagine it having been a mere product of her imagination. It had all been so vivid, so realistic. Everything from this new land of Thedas beyond the oceans, to how their magic worked in such needlessly risky ways.
Still, it was the only unusual thing, as a new day in Winterhold took its beginning. For once, Brelyna hadn't been required to wake her up, which either meant Talia had woken up well ahead of time, or that the Dunmer had simply decided to let her sleep. The former seemed the truer, as the dim light in the dormitory came from the magical well, not the windows. That, and the faint snoring from the other, closed doors meant that for once, Talia was the early riser.
Which meant, she had the time to at least scratch down some notes from the dream. As insane as it had been, maybe she could use it for a book when Skyrim at some point finally got a hold of book-presses. That, or see if she could sneak one of the Arch mage's magical quills from his office.
Her eyes narrowed a bit as she looked at her own written words, unable to comprehend them. She could see the signs, the letters, each spelled clearly with ink. Yet, she couldn't read them.
"Ah piss, this isn't the best moment to develop dyslexia…" she growled to herself, seeing how no one else were awake, and glared at the letters. She knew what they were supposed to mean, but unless her brain had reset itself to Bosmeri over the course of the night, she was having dire difficulties reading regular Bretoni. Which, just to cement it, sucked to suddenly fail at.
"Talia." A woman said. So, others were awa…awake? The woman before her was not supposed to be neither enrolled nor employed here, what with how freaking staunch a defender she was for the Chantry…What.
"You…are… not supposed to be here…" she muttered, utterly dumbstruck as she stared at Wynne. The old woman was crossing arms before her chest, looking down at the Breton with simultaneously curious and concerned eyes; "Or, real, for that matter."
"Oh, I am very much real, though this place is not." Wynne argued softly, examining the room; "Is this your…Tower of Winterhold, that you mentioned when we first met?"
Piss. That meant this wasn't real. But, if Wynne was here, where was…
"Craaaaaaaaaap…" she swore as she kicked the corner of her bed; "I'm in the Fade? Again?!"
"Yes. Know that none of this is real, and it will…" Wynne started. Talia snarled and directed a lightning bolt at the closest wall, causing the entire illusion to shatter and break. In its stead, the raw Fade was revealed in all its hideousness; "…vanish."
"YOU'RE PISSING OFF THE WRONG MAGE, YOU ONE-EYED SON OF A DICK!" Talia screamed into the skies, if they could indeed be called that. Floating chunks of rock and masses of other stuff didn't exactly make up for a convincing cloud-replacement; "I hate the Fade. Hate it, Hate it, Hate it!"
"For now, we still need to find the others." Wynne said, looking unmoved by the younger mages outburst; "Usually, we mages are more attuned to the Fade than others. You did not feel anything was wrong?"
"Other than I suddenly seemed to have dyslexia?" Talia scoffed, kicking a pebble over the edge. Instead of falling, it continued sailing like a feather. This place was fucked up, which was just one more reason she didn't like it; "I've never been to the Fade before coming to your tower that day. How was I supposed to know what it feels like?"
"Then where do you go when you sleep?" Wynne's question was surprisingly honest in its curiosity, something which took Talia a little aback. She nevertheless scowled, but at the yellow rock-that-was-not-rock beneath her feet;
"Nowhere. I just dream." She explained, to Wynne's frowning expression;" Look, like I've already explained left and right to more people than I care to count: I am from Tamriel, across the ocean west of here. Far west of here. People from Tamriel don't go into the Fade when they dream. I don't even think anyone there is aware of its existence, though it does share some traits with Oblivion."
"If you do not know of the Fade, does that mean none know of your source of magic?" the old woman seemed truly perturbed, almost sympathetic towards her. Which, just for emphasis, was not okay.
"Of course we know where our magical potential comes from." She bit out, then pointed upwards, even though it could just as well be sideward for all the good that'd do in here; "Atherius. The Divine plane to where the Aedra retreated when Mundus was completed. The sun and all the stars are rifts left behind by Magnus, the patron Divine of magic."
Before Wynne could start with more questions, because frankly Talia just wanted out of here. Like, now, she continued; "The…illusion earlier was the dormitory back at the College of Winterhold, situated in the northern part of the province of Skyrim, which is again a part of the Septim Empire." She scoffed as some sort of backwards bird-thing flew vertically past them. The Fade was messed up, and whomever liked it could bloody well keep it; "Now, can we please get out of here? If I contract a demon or something because you wanted to waste time asking questions, I'm going to haunt you to the day you drop."
"…I see." Wynne finally nodded, hopefully resigning to the fact that this wasn't the time to play 'Ten questions for the Scholar'. Then she did something that ripped away the fabric of reality, and all of a sudden they were standing in a central square of some city or town, looking at a small, cozy-looking house. The Fade was gone, in a way, and a new illusion had been spun up. A small army od snot-nosed kids were tumbling around outside, playing everything from tag, to 'who-let-the-Mabari-out?' And it's all for our enjoyment. Isn't that just sweet?
"…Okay, I give up." She muttered, turning to Wynne; "Where are we?"
" Another dream." Wynne replied, walking towards the only house that seemed firmly enough anchored in the illusion to be interacted with. The rest almost, on further examination, seemed two-dimensional. When the Breton followed Wynne, she saw Alistair sitting at a table in a nice, cozy living room, munching on a large piece of cheese; "This one is Alistair's."
"Oh hey, I was just thinking about you…well, actually mainly you, but it's nice to see you here as well, Wynne." Alistair exclaimed happily, beckoning them both inside. Talia was tempted to see if the cheese was as good as it looked, then remembered that it wasn't even real. A red-headed woman, looking almost like an older version of herself, walked into the room and smiled at Talia and Wynne; "Oh, this is Goldanna. She's my sister…well, half-sister, but still, can you believe it?"
"No, she doesn't seem nearly as retarded as you." Talia figured Alistair, if and when they woke up, would think everything had been a dream, and as such she could at least work some frustrations out over him. Alistair smiled regardless;
"And those are all her children. My nieces and nephews, can you believe it?" he continued undeterred; "We're one big happy family, finally together."
"…why is he behaving like this?" Talia leaned in and whispered to Wynne, allthewhile smiling at the cheese-muncher; "He seems…irrationally happy."
"…When Duncan brought Alistair to Ostagar, I inquired as to the boy…Alistair's never had a real family. This must be his great dream." The older mage whispered back, a sad tone to her words. Ah. Piss, that made sense. Talia knew Alistair had had a…less than optimal upbringing, but he talked about it as if he'd been doing well until Isolde had ruined everything.
And didn't she feel like a complete bitch now for calling him a retard? Not much, since it was sort of true, but there was still regret there.
Had Talia once more simply taken a person at surface value? Shit, this was starting to become a bad habit. If these dreams were the individuals' respective dreams, and hers had apparently been to wake up back home – or maybe her unfamiliarity with the Fade had confused the demon – she was starting to have a feeling that she wasn't going to like seeing what Aedan's would be about.
"Alistair, I'll put this in simple terms so you can understand me." Talia said, walking up to him; "You don't. have. a. sister. It's all curtesy of old One-eye."
"Alistair, are your friends staying for supper?" Goldanna – or whatever you are – asked brightly as she returned to the room, arms full of dirty clothes from the strings outside. Alistair immediately turned a pleading pair of puppy-eyes at them both. Oh boy;
"Say you'll stay! Goldanna's a great cook, maybe she'll even make her mince-pie." His large, doggy-eyes shifted from them to his sister. Or, false sister. Shit, this was becoming a bother to figure out; "You can, can't you?"
"Of course, Alistair." She smiled warmly, eyes shining with familial love and all that stuff that Alistair apparently had been keeping a secret that he was longing for more than anything else. Damn; "Anything for you, dear brother."
The way Alistair practically shone with happiness at the woman's words made Talia actually wish she didn't have to rip him away from it, but there was no telling what would happen if he remained here. And Wynne seemed content with her being the one to rouse him, seeing as she knew him better;
"Alistair…Where do you think you are?" she pointedly used 'you', not 'we'. Alistair's mood didn't diminish in the slightest, though he seemed to grow a bit more contemplative, as if there was a trick to her question;
"We're in Denerim, of course. Look, we're right by the marketplace." He pointed out the door, to where there was a suddenly bustling market with humans and dwarves yelling and shouting about their wares. Curiously, they all either yelled about cheese, cake or incomprehensible words that made no sense in Talia's ears.
"O-o-kay, and, how did we get here? Do you remember walking here? What's the last you remember before sitting here on your ass, stuffing it with cheese?" she looked at the way his sister gave her a wary look, but decided to press on; "Think carefully, and I swear if you crack a joke…"
"Alright, if it'll make you stop being all prissy…" he threw his hands up in defeat, leaning back in the chair with a thoughtful expression; "I…It's a bit fuzzy. That's odd…"
"Alistair," Goldanna-who-was-not-Goldanna, called; "the pie is ready, come and see."
"I…wait, I remember…a tower." He muttered with a frown, then looked at Talia; "and you were royally pissed when…when we went there, and we met you, and…the demon, it…" either to Alistair's credit or because the demon declared him a lost cause, the illusion unraveled, once again becoming the Fade; "…I was so…sure it was real…"
"You're not the only one…" Talia admitted, a bit sheepishly as she swallowed her pride and looked around. The Fade looked like it had the first time, only this time there was something looking like a city, with towers and everything, far off in the distance. More Fade-shit, obviously. She turned to Wynne; "Where to next?"
"We must try to find the others." Wynne said, repeating the spell or whatever it was that had taken them to Alistair's dream. Suddenly, the Fade vanished again, becoming a dark forest; "I do not know whose dream this is…"
"This would be Daveth's dream, by elimination." Talia replied, looking around. Finding the area too dark for her tastes, she cast out a hand and a mage-light flared up, hovering above her hand. When Wynne looked a bit too curious, she just shrugged; "Mage light. Basic spell, but handy if you're waking up in a dark cave…or forest."
"Please! Let them go!" a voice yelled throughout the trees. It was unmistakably Daveth's, though the words themselves were uncharacteristically frightened and pleading; "It's me you want, shitheads!"
"Let's go…" Talia took the lead, seeing how Alistair still looked buzzed by his awakening. To be fair, his dream had been far more desirable than hers, and therefore worse to realize was all a lie;" We…"
She stopped when she realized what this dream was: a nightmare.
Daveth was trying to fend off multiple opponent at once, using only his fists as he desperately tried getting through the mass of dark bodies to where several figures were tied to stakes. Talia realized with a sickening start that the figures were all of them, Wynne included, tied to poles upon stacked firewood. She, Brelyna, Morrigan and Leliana were ripped naked and bruised. They all stood with legs tied spread, and there seemed to be something of a line up to each of…They were all being raped.
Talia watched with mounting nausea as her own mirage, Brelyna, Morrigan and Leliana were violated by man after man, screaming and crying while the rest of their group shouted and cried vengeance at the perpetrators. But she didn't hear that. Talia's eyes were solely focused on the man forcing himself upon Brelyna, groping and violating her with each thrust of his bare ass. When the Dunmer's screaming apparently became too much of an annoyance, he struck her in the face with a heavy fist.
And Daveth kept on struggling, his feelings of desperation and grief permeated the nightmare like a thick fog.
"This…Maker, this is Daveth's dream?" Alistair demanded hoarsely from behind the hand holding his mouth.
Amidst all the horror, Talia believed she was starting to understand what the focus of this nightmare was. She was way past being surprised at her friends' deeper fears and wishes by now, so the answer was astonishingly simple: Daveth feared losing them.
"Nightmare." Wynne's voice was raw, her skin paler than before too; "I…do not know what it's focus is, but we need to stop it."
Talia agreed, but instead of speaking she just launched herself forward, hands aflame as she vaulted down the hill towards the clearing. The dark masses only started realizing her presence when she blew one of them through the canopy. Not that they could stop her anyway.
Not that they didn't try as she carved a path with arcane elements through the mass of silhouettes, burning, freezing and electrocuting her way through. And yet, with each figure she killed or blew apart, and she had lost count by now, more would just take their place. The rape was still ongoing, and now others, new ones, had started using the men of the group as target practice for bows.
And then, all out of nowhere, the nightmare vanished. Talia was left standing, breathing troubled by the effort as she looked around, not comprehending what had just happened. When she finally looked to where Daveth was, he was flanked by Wynne and Alistair, sitting on his ass while staring at them all like he was going insane.
And yet, he'd dissolved the nightmare.
"Fuck…I…it's over?" he whispered when she came close enough to hear. He was sweating cold, eyes wide and jaw trembling with stress. Deciding to give the guy a moment, Talia dumped herself down next to him, choosing to ignore the fact that she was sitting in the Fade. It wasn't important.
"Piss, Daveth…" she breathed; "Sometimes, I wish you'd be as shallow as you're suave…would make this a lot easier on my mentality…"
"I just…but I saw, I saw you, and- and you, and you…you were all…" he breathed, forcing his eyes closed and his nerves down, however much that last one worked, she couldn't tell; "I'm going to string that demon's balls up on a tree."
"Get in line." She muttered, placing a hand on the archer's shoulder; "How are you feeling?"
"…" he gave her a weak stare, as if to ask if she was serious; "…I just spent the last ten hours watching you all get brutally murdered again and again…How do you think I'm doin'?"
"You knew it was a nightmare?" Wynne asked incredulously. Daveth turned a weak smirk on her.
"Figured it out…after they bled you dry for the second time… Just…it was too much." He averted his eyes and stared at the yellow rock-that-was-not-rock; "My brain just didn't accept that… that it wasn't real."
"You did better than Alistair or me then, in that regard…" she said, looking at the former Templar and Wynne; "I'm beat, but we should probably find the others…Gods, Aedan is probably reliving Highever…"
"If the next dream is his, what should we then prepare for?" Wynne inquired, getting mentally ready, for all the Fade to see.
"…the night Howe betrayed the Couslands, slaughtering everyone but Aedan, his mother and Ser Gilmore…If it's a nightmare, I wouldn't be surprised if everyone died this time…" and this in turn brought new shit into her mind. The way Bryce Cousland had begged her and Duncan to save his son and wife, then how Eleanor Cousland had decided to remain with her dying husband…Shit, this is going to be bad…
Yeah...this is definitely a fair bit more graphic than the game. How many were surprised at Daveth's nightmare? (Admit it, you all either thought he'd be on the torture racks or dreaming about harems)
Also, I have been taking notes at your suggestions, complains and other in the reviews, so let's try something funny: Write to me what you'd like the group to discuss the next time they make camp. Could be anything from the contents of the dreams to legends from High Rock