Magic Makers
After a whole day of discussing, planning and organising, you managed to get to bed. It ended up being rather late, so it is sometime mid-morning when you arise. This leaves you with a rather unpleasant morning meal of some biscuit and a local fruit.
From there, you depart to the task you had planned for the day. Morrigan, for all her rudeness, had a point. You are rather ignorant of mages and their uses in battle. While you have done much to understand the use of magic on an individual level the fact remains you are not a native.
While it is of course possible that you could think of proper uses, the natives likely have done so for longer. So, it follows that the best way to improve at utilising their capabilities is to speak to the mages themselves. Obviously, their expertise would be the greatest on such matters.
Finding them after eating is not exactly a challenge. They are in a well-known part of camp; one you have visited previously. Finding who to speak to is a little tricker. Senior Enchanter Wynne, for understandable reasons, does not really want to talk to you unless it is urgent.
Fortunately, there are a number of other, less senior but still important, mages who are willing to discuss the matter with you.
"Well, first thing you need to understand is that the Circle is not, technically, part of Ferelden." Tymm, Wynne's aide, explains. "We're directly under the supervision of the Orlesian chantry."
"I imagine that caused no small amount of trouble during Ferelden's rebellion." You observe.
Tymm grimaces. "Let's, just not talk about that. We have enough trouble dealing with it as is."
"Forgive me, I did not mean to tread upon old wounds." You state.
The mage just shakes his head. "You had no way of knowing. Let's just get back to your question. What do you already know about magic casting in a group?"
"Well, I know the basic capabilities of a mage, both their supportive and offensive capabilities." You explain. "Further, I know a fair bit about their destructive abilities, rather impressively wide scale as was proven not too long ago."
The mage smiles and inclines his head at the compliment.
"I am also aware that every mage has a limited reserve that they can call on." You continue. "That reserve varies by mage and can be increased by training. This reserve can be refilled through the use of rare and expensive potions."
"I see." Tymm says, once it is clear you are finished. "Well, I can say that there are some oversights in your knowledge. Oh. Though I cannot help but praise you despite that, you are very knowledgeable for a lay individual."
"I try to stay abreast of relevant information." You demure. "I had hoped that you would fill in the oversights."
"Well, the most obvious one is that mages regenerate mana naturally." Tymm begins.
"I am aware." You state.
"Oh, well, in that case I should clear up something about the speed of the regeneration." Tymm continues. "The easiest spell, or rather the least mana intensive, is the spirit bolt. A mage who has exhausted all mana would only take around twenty seconds to be able to cast it."
"That…" You pause in contemplation. "Is less helpful than you think."
"Well, spirit bolt is somewhat comparable to other spells, I'd say most range between two to four times as expensive." Tymm clarifies. "The most expensive would be maybe ten times?"
"So that would mean that exhausted mages would be, at most, out of action for four minutes." You muse. "That is still a great deal of time."
"Well, actually every mage has a theoretical cap, which is not necessarily enough for the most expensive spells." Tymm admits. "But the point is we were fighting all night so we could have been casting more often."
"I could have made more frequent use of mages." You nod.
"Yes, and that's before you get into cooperative casting." Tymm agrees.
"Cooperative casting?" You prompt.
"Ah, right, lay person. Um, so magic is multiplicative." Tymm says quickly, hands moving indecisively. "When you cast spells as a group you can actually achieve more than you expect if you were just adding up the theoretical power output. That's before you discuss how skill can be distributed."
"How much so?" You ask.
"Well, that's a whole conversation, relying on theory that I don't know if you know." Tymm says. "Would it be better if I just talk about how other kingdoms use their mages?"
You pause for a while in thought. Then, at length, you state, "I would hear how other kingdoms use their mages. Additionally, I think it wise to discuss how mages have been used historically."
Tymm visibly takes a moment to work through your words before replying. "Reasonable. So, let's start where we started in the beginning. What do you know about how mages have been used elsewhere?"
It actually takes a while to recall any information at all. Initially you were going to say that you have no idea. Then you recall Merrill's aid to you in battle at various points, how she would cast spells to strengthen allies or disrupt enemy formations. This is not really the kind of thing that you are looking for, but you relay it for completeness' sake.
"That sounds pretty typical of the Dalish." Tymm nods. "They pretty much always have a mage and it's not uncommon for them to dip into blood magic or use their own branch of magic to play a 'supportive' role. Not quite applicable to bigger battles though."
You nod, mind still on your memories. Speaking of Merrill has reminded you of something else. Blood magic being mentioned has only reinforced it…
"I know that, at some point in the past, elves and humans made war through use of blood magic." You relay slowly, recalling the vision in the Beyond you saw soon after your arrival. "They called forth demons, set them upon one another."
Tymm's face goes a little pale at that. "Well, that sounds like pre circle magic. Probably Tevinter. I wouldn't recommend it."
"I would never consort with the twisted brood of the Dark Lord." You reply coldly.
Tymm looks if anything more nervous at your words. "Well, uh, let's get back to the topic at hand. You know anything else about magic used at scale?"
You shake your head. "Among my people the only thing comparable would be bards, but Songs of Power are rather more delicate. Prone to disruption by those skilled in the art and risking taking themselves out of the fight. They are a carefully husbanded force, used sparingly."
"Huh." Tymm says in surprise. "That actually explains a lot about how you used us actually. Sorry. I should talk a little about how mages get used around Thedas."
"Please." You reply.
"Well, let's begin with Ferelden because that's what I know best." Tymm begins. "The history of magic use in Ferelden is actually fascinating. So, the Alamarri tribes actually had some fascinating uses for mages before they were converted, but that's a little small scale."
"The Alamarri?" You ask.
"Ah, they were the people who would eventually form Ferelden." Tymm explains. "We… I mean, my people, are their descendants."
"I see." You nod.
Tymm visibly hesitates. "I don't mean to pry, but do you, perhaps know a bit about your own ancestors…"
"My people are the Firstborn." You answer. "We were the first who walked beneath the stars, before the sun."
"Fascinating. Is this a common belief or is it unique to your own branch?" Tymm asks. "I mean, what with Elven history being what it is it's always hard to pin down… What I mean to say is…"
"I think that we are drifting off topic." You interrupt. "The history of the Eldar is distinct from that of the elves you know, and I would rather focus on mages."
"Right, right. But, a whole new culture of elves." Tymm shakes his head. "No. Focus. Ferelden, mages. Ok. So, mages have always been a big part of Ferelden's armies, the circle supported King Calenhad, you know. Broadly speaking, mages of the circle fight a lot like archers."
"Archers?" You raise an eyebrow.
"Broadly speaking." Tymm restates. "They are placed behind lines, on elevations, and pepper the enemy from a distance. It has the advantage of being safe and repeatable. This is the conventional approach."
"What would be the unconventional approach?" You ask.
"During the second Blight, in Orlais, the Emperor at the time decided to let the mages 'off the leash' so to speak." Tymm says with a smile. "It resulted in something rather unique. You see, mages are uniquely capable of wide scale devastation. Far more so than any conventional siege engine."
"Akin to a dragon, save less armour." You observe.
"Not a bad analogy actually." Tymm says thoughtfully. "The scale varies a touch, and mages are as you pointed out far less, robust shall we say?"
"That sounds like an extremely useful capability." You observe. "Why is it not more common?"
"Well, there is superstition and the like." Tymm admits. "I know some of my comrades would claim that's all it is. However, well, while any circle mage can cast an arcane bolt, casting wide scale powerful magic needs either powerful mages, or groups of them. It is, what was it you said? Prone to disruption and dangerous to boot."
"I see." You reply. "Is that all?"
"Well, there is Tevinter." Tymm grimaces. "That is a bit different though, magic is baked into the fabric of their society and between that and the magically enhanced slave soldiers… Well, they tend to be a bit of an anomaly, hardly useful to you. If I had to summarise, I would say a Tevinter army often fights more like a single mage than anything comparable from the Circles."
Despite prodding, he refuses to explain any further. Still, it leaves you with several interesting avenues to pursue in future should there be a combat. Though, the idea of an integrated mage force that allows the whole group to fight more effectively is an attractive sounding idea
Hunting Hidden Horrors
The Grey Wardens take a couple of days to gather for the expedition into the Deep roads. You are not certain what convinced them as you were not present for those conversations. However, you do hear people talking about the expedition while you go about your business.
So, on the day they plan to set off, you manage to find time to join them. Admittedly you really should have made time earlier, but until recently you were seriously considering whether or not you were going to spend time with Morrigan and Maeglin. Then there was the discussion you had with him regarding the Persilima, which went mostly over your head.
Suffice it to say that you are feeling more than a little sheepish showing up late and unannounced.
"Oh, Lord Russandol." Alistair says when he sees you. "This is kind of a bad time, we're about to head out."
"As a matter of fact, I was hoping that I could join you." You inform him.
Alistair's face clears up immediately. "Oh, oh, yes absolutely. That's actually pretty good, considering you're literally the only person who showed up."
For a moment you are taken aback, surprised to hear this. "Forgive me. Did you say that nobody else volunteered?"
Alistair grimaces. "Yeah. Lots of people wanted to come but are still injured and the rest either don't want to go or aren't allowed to by their lords. It's pretty bad."
"Hold on a moment." You state.
Immediately you head to where your own warriors are. Your rangers are busy with the scouting parties but you manage to rouse most of your heavy infantry. With around eleven of your own warriors added to the grey wardens the numbers come out to nearly thirty.
Duncan, who looked annoyed when you left, seems somewhat appreciative when you return. "Thank you."
"Maybe this isn't a scheme to assassinate us after all." Allistair mutters under his breath.
"Would you kindly direct us to the nearest entrance to the Deep Roads?" You ask.
Duncan smiles slightly. "Of course."
He then points at the tower of Ishal.
The mages among the Grey Wardens open the entrance into the tunnel from which the Blight attacked. Several Circle mages stand around the entrance ready to close it up if the darkspawn attack again.
"Thank you again for agreeing to this." Alistair says to Senior Enchanter Wynne.
"Just be quick." The old woman replies. "I really don't want to seal this up while you might still be down there."
For your part you wish Maeglin was here. Partly because there is a not insignificant part of you that wants to take the Persilima, but also having a Noldorin prince with said Persilima holding the tunnel would soothe your worries about being trapped down here.
The tunnel is steep, and wet. The soil around you is not mud, but it is definitely damp. Bracings are placed at frequent intervals, made of piled stone that you can only assume is from the Deep Roads. Along the way you find more than one darkspawn body buried in the walls or pressed into the floor as though crushed by hundreds of feet.
No one speaks during the descent; hands grip weapons tightly as humans huddle close to those bearing the lanterns. For your part, you limit your stride so as not to outpace anyone and because you must bend near double to pass through the narrow passage.
When you emerge into the deep roads, the first thing you see is a ramshackle palisade and watch tower. It is manned by the smaller variety of darkspawn, genlocks you believe they are called.
Though you see them before the humans, as your eyes are keener and more accustomed to darkness, they see you even sooner. With a cry of warning you pull Alistair aside, before leaping forward, the Light of Valinor flooding out.
To their credit, the Grey Wardens are quick to reorganise and begin pushing up behind you. Almost as if they were forewarned before you spoke. It matters little, free of the constraints of the tunnel you are swifter than any of them.
The palisade has a clearly designed entrance but it was made by and for shorter people than you. It is virtually no effort to leap up and grab the top, and vault over the wall.
You land in the midst of a cluster of archers rushing for the tower and cut them down. The Genlocks do not react with the same eerie synchronicity that they did at Ostagar. Some turn to face you, others try to gain some distance, others are trying to face the Wardens.
Into this confusion you press your advantage. Every stroke of your blade takes the life of a Genlock, and you work your way towards the last archers. Distantly you become aware of the sounds of battle as you end the last of the knot of around six or so.
By the time you are cutting your way towards the back of the forces holding the gap in the palisade, the Wardens have already made their way almost through. There is an interesting spread of abilities, with some working in pairs or even fours, while others act more as you do. Regardless, they are highly effective.
None quite as good as you, but the twelve of them together are probably more effective than you would be on your own.
"Impressive." You state as the alpha is dispatched almost distractedly by a mage.
"That feels a little condescending coming from the elf who hopped a fence to kill darkspawn faster." Alistair says. "Are you sure you're not a Grey Warden?"
"We're pretty sure he's some kind of ancient elf warrior from back in their glory days who was put into stasis until Merrill woke him up." Paloma says suddenly. "Sort of like an Elven Calanhad[1]."
For a moment everyone is silent, staring at you expectantly.
"Well." You say. "It is not wholly wrong, though it was more that I was migrated an incredible distance, from a far distant land where elves never faded."
Allistair sighs. "Let's just, keep going."
After some discussion an agreement is reached. If your goal is to hamper the darkspawn, then searching out a broodmother is the ideal plan.
"The only real problem is going to be finding one." One of the more experienced Grey Wardens says. "They're generally either really deep or really well defended."
"Given the current situation, it is likely that the darkspawn will be contracting around the nests." You point out. "I think that if we follow the concentrations, we are highly likely to find one."
"Likely is not the same as certain, and the Deep Roads are a maze of tunnels, all filled with darkspawn." The Grey Warden continues.
"Would you rather we stand around and do nothing?" You ask. "The worst that can happen is that we find a large number of darkspawn and fight them."
"The worst thing that can happen is we die!" Exclaims the Warden.
"Enough." Lady Aeducan interrupts. "The elf's right, we try and if we fail so be it. Stop arguing and help us decide where to go."
The objector puffs himself up when Alistair speaks. "Come on, just listen to her."
The puts an end to the objections, though it raises some questions about the dynamic of authority here. It is, admittedly, none of your business, well, it will not be your business as long as it does not become a problem.
"I suppose our best option is to head away from Orzamar?" You propose.
"It's not that simple…" Begins the objector.
"Yes it is." Lady Aeducan interrupts. "Elf, up front. Everyone else, follow me."
A bit confused you head up to the front of the group when the dwarf begins leading you down the road.
"So, Nelyafinwë." Lady Aeducan begins. "Tell me about yourself."
There is a strange compulsion to answer her honestly, but you ignore it. "I do not believe this is the time for idle chit chat."
"Come on." She presses. "I'd love to learn all about you."
"I said no." You state.
This pattern repeats for some time. She has an impressive list of ways to ask the same question, admittedly. Part of you regrets no simply answering her just so she would stop asking. This is as bad as the conversation would have been.
The hunt for clusters of darkspawn is a bit of a challenge. For some reason you do not understand, you are the best scout in the group. Which raises just so many questions, which Lady Aeducan is no help at all answering.
"I'm as new to this as you are." She replies. "Can you tell me anything about your people?"
Then there are the further questions. As soon as she realised that you were not going to simply tell her your life story, she began asking a variety of new questions. They are not rude or pushy but they are constant. It is as though she has some kind of list, she is working through intending to continue until the whole thing is exhausted.
Is this some kind of cosmic justice? Do you do this to people?
It would be easy to blame her for the fact you do not in fact find a nest of broodmothers. However, this would be a gross exaggeration. She is at once very helpful in pointing out when you are approaching darkspawn, and quick to focus in combat.
The other wardens even further help, chiming in with directions to the greater clusters.
The greatest problems are twofold. Firstly, you are forced to admit that you are out of your depth. Even among Noldor you are considered a well-travelled individual. From mountains, to forests, across rivers and the Sea you have wandered, often in force and rarely with much guidance. Yet, the world underground is different. Landmarks are strange and distances feel distorted.
Then there was the behaviour of the darkspawn. They have, for want of a better term, scattered. Rather than leading from one group to another, there are large gaps between them, with multiple paths to choose from on the way. Worse, they seem to be moving away from each other.
"Vanguard." The objector from earlier, Louis[2, grumbles. "Has to be."
"How do you know it's not the Archdemon?" Lady Aeducan asks.
"Feels different." He grunts.
"Vanguard can't see through the eyes of other darkspawn." Mutters Alistair. "Lord Russandol, can you hear or see anything?"
You take a long moment to look and listen. Then, you catch a flash of metal high on a pillar in the distance.
The pillar is not quite so vertical as it appears. Its sheer size actually means that the decorative carvings are actually narrow ledges that can be scaled. When combined with the damage of the years, it is possible, though difficult to find a way to scale up to a wide decorative ridge.
There the darkspawn have built a platform of wood and scavenged stone. While the gloom manages to shield many of the details even from your eyes, the darkspawn are likely able to see clear along the road for many miles.
"Clever little abomination." You say.
The darkspawn continues to prove its cunning. It quickly figures out that you have seen it and begins to call darkspawn in from around you to slow you down. The Grey Wardens continue to prove their use by spotting every ambush and often turning them against the foe.
You are, in truth quite impressed by their individual prowess, though you do think their teamwork could use some work.
A flick of the wrist takes off a Hurlock's head which you kick at an Ogre, which briefly staggers it. That allows Lady Aeudcan to scale its leg and bury her axe deep into its stomach. Allistair takes advantage of the roar of pain to take down its leg and you skewer it through the eye as it falls.
The young dwarf smirks up at you. "You have got to teach me how to do that."
"It is merely a matter of timing and practice." You explain, slightly surprised by the compliment. "It will come with experience."
Suffice it to say that the greatest challenge of reaching the pillar is exhaustion from having to kill so many darkspawn to reach it.
"Climbing this thing's going to be a death trap." Alistair says, arrows from above digging deeply into his shield. "We need another option."
"A moment." You say.
It takes a while to think of a good way to do this without bringing the ceiling down around you. Eventually you manage something you find acceptable and begin to sing.
It is a song of rot, of the end of trees, of becoming soil and burning in fire. Essentially you sing of things that destroy wood but do not touch stone.
Fortunately, you do not need to tear down the platform itself, as you suspect that would be rather ineffective. Instead, you target the braces that hold it up. It only takes a few minutes before the weight becomes too much and they snap.
The platform comes crashing down with a great noise and a clamour. The darkspawn screech and howl, stone groans and wood clatters against itself. Eventually there is a great crash and the sickening sounds of wood and bone snapping.
From there it is very simple to kill whatever did not perish in the fall. After that it is decided that it would be unwise to risk staying out any longer and the group turns back.
"So how did you end up in Ferelden?"
Lady Aeducan continues to ask questions all the way home.
[1] I refuse to believe that Calenhad is not some kind of 'king in the hill' in Ferelden's mythology
[2] Pronounced the French way 'loo-wee'