MiraG3
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If you enjoyed this, please check out the other story of my own creation that I have going on this forum, thanks!
http://forums2.battleon.com/f/tm.asp?m=19914470&mpage=1&key=�
Blood magic; the forbidden art of drawing power from our source of life. It is often a mage’s last resort in battle, their last chance of survival through
total corruption. The knowledge of this magic is abolished, but available to those who truly seek its malevolent teachings. Many of the mages that seek
it out aim only to make the Templars see reason, but in the process they ostracize themselves from any sympathy and put a shroud of shame over
their compatriots.
Eltha, an elvish mage, did not condone the use of blood magic, but neither does she want its knowledge lost forever. Instead, she believes that it should
be protected and learned from, so that the same mistakes cannot be made in the future. A view that is not shared by many, most specifically her
Templar overseer, Knight-Captain Cullen.
“I’ve warned you enough times, mage,” Cullen growled. “You scum speak of nothing but equality, and freedom, but as soon as our backs are turned you
search far and wide for any strength against us.”
Fear was etched in the lines of Eltha’s fair face. Her large eyes darted around the small room, searching for any type of help. She refused to meet the
glare of the Templar standing over her. She shuffled uneasily in her green robe, attempting to speak but unable to form words.
At last she locked gazes with Cullen, and raw hatred she saw would have made her crumple to the ground if she was not already sitting on the floor.
Books and tomes were scattered around, on the small bench and table, many of them open. Only one candle rested on the edge of the table, struggling
to stay alive. Its flickering created shadows that danced on the walls, animating them in an eerie way.
“Get up!” Cullen yelled, grabbing Eltha’s shoulder before she could rise herself. She was too timid to summon any mana, to attack him. She was frozen
by her fear, moving only at the behest of the Knight-Captain.
Again, she tried to speak, but was quickly silenced by a blow to the back of the head by the butt of a sword. Her vision swam in the narrow corridor,
the torches on the walls appearing as flame spirits as her disoriented mind attempted to understand what was happening. She suddenly lost all
bearing and stumbled to the floor, hands scraping on the floor. She winced with pain, but the confusion caused by the hit to the head still dominated
her conscience.
A hand grabbed her shoulder, and the last thing she remembered before slipping into unconsciousness was being dragged away, the room she was
just studying in disappearing around the corner.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Eat,” a gruff voice instructed. Eltha hastily crawled from the dark corner of her cell to the door where a platter of food had been placed. Grabbing the
sad morsel, she scurried back into the corner and ravenously consumed the gruel, before downing the murky water. The large, compassionate eyes
she once had were now dark and calculating. Always calculating. How could she escape? The Rite of Tranquility had been demanded by the
Knight-Commander, so that she would lose all desire for research.
Why were they waiting? It had already been almost two weeks. After the judgement, she had wept for three days. For nearly a fortnight since then
she had done nothing but starve and think of ways to break out and run away forever. She could not enter sleep’s welcoming embrace, there was
too much to be determined. Fear kept her alert, and her mind kept her awake.
Eltha did not think any of her fellow mages would attempt a rescue. She had been fairly reclusive, electing to bury her attention in study and research
rather than illicit gossip and raunchy fornication in dark corners of the tower. A few times she had been approached, often by strange men like Uldred
who wished to invite her to their fraternity. The Libertarians, Aequetarians, Loyalists; all of them fighting over something. It all seemed pointless to
Eltha. Her goal was knowledge of everything, complete understanding. Sure, the Templars restricted some things, but in Kinloch Hold she was allowed
many freedoms.
A screech of pain for outside snapped her out of her small reverie. Something was wrong. She plastered her ear to the door, listening to the muffled
voices and rushing footsteps. She thought she recognized some of the voices, but before she could listen further a loud explosion made her jump
away.
Her ears rang, causing quite a bit of pain since she had not fully recovered from the concussion she had received from Cullen. Metal clanged;
Templars were falling to the ground, dropping their swords and shields. They possessed abilities, albeit from lyrium, that allowed them to thwart a
mage’s power, so who was taking them down?
She was answered by a call from the other side of the door, “Against the wall!”
Stunned, she obeyed. A wave of pure energy blew the door off of its thick hinges, splintering the dense wood against the cell walls. Many of the
deadly shards came close the Eltha, but none pierced her skin. Her stick thin frame was huddled against the wall, mangy brown hair splayed in all
directions.
Through the din of shouts and spells, a single voice called her name. “Eltha,” it said. Yes, she knew that voice.
“Uldred?” she looked up, meeting the man’s eyes. They were dark brown, and in some way scared Eltha. Something seemed wrong, but she brushed
the thought aside. He had rescued her. His bald head reflected the light created by many spirits conjured, floating down the corridor and into the
destroyed cells. “What is happening?”
“We are taking over the tower,” he replied calmly. His voice sent chills through Eltha. It was smooth, as if he were in complete control of the chaos
outside.
His words were met with a wide stare.
“I forgot how long you have been in the dungeons. Allow me to iterate. We were betrayed at Ostagar, and Loghain’s actions deserve revenge.
Unfortunately, Irving and the foolish mages that follow his every word are too content with the slaughter and enslavement of our kind to act, so
the blood mages and I will.”
The term hit Eltha like the force that had ripped down her door. “B-Blood mages?” she stuttered.
“My eyes were opened, Eltha. For a long time, it was I at the forefront of exposing them. But now I see its power. With blood magic, we render the
powers of the Templars inadequate. They cannot compete with our raw strength.” His eyes had acquired a sickening madness that frightened Eltha
even more than before.
She shrunk into the corner of her cell, now wary of Uldred.
“Come now, little elf. I know what you want. When we take this tower, you may have all the tomes you require for your studies; no Templar
restrictions.” Uldred stepped forward, offering a hand to her. And then his soothing voice became as cold as ice, “Or, you can die. Right here, right
now.”
Eltha looked from his eyes, to his hand, and then back to his face.
“Stand with me.”
Free reign to do as she pleased. The thought was enticing.
Eltha reached out and took Uldred’s hand.
“Good,” he smiled.
“So, what now?” Eltha asked.
“We have the main keep. The Templars have all been wiped out. We came to the dungeons to retrieve the mages who would stand with us before
moving on to the Harrowing Chamber and eliminating Irving and his supporters,” Uldred said with a flaccid demeanour, as if the deaths of so
many meant nothing to him.
Eltha nodded slowly. She was afraid of Uldred, but she knew what side she had to be on to survive. It was apparent to her that, for all her morals,
she would quickly join evil to live. She was disgusted with herself, but buried those feelings.
Uldred led her out of the cell and into the corridor. Blood covered the walls, much of it Templar. Eltha could see the lyrium that they used in the
blood, its power calling to her. The liquid that they consumed to fight gave them power, but to mages it was deadly. Absorbing that much pure mana
would destroy them before it had a chance to drive them mad.
Not all of the mages had survived, although many more than the Templars. Uldred reached down and took a staff from one of the corpses and
handed it to Eltha. She took it without a word.
Survive, she thought.
The hem of her dirty robe became stained with blood as she and Uldred stepped over bodies and walked through puddles of red ichor to reach the
staircase that led to the main of Kinloch Hold.
Once they reached the first floor, the pungent smell of death and decay nearly incapacitated Eltha. For several minutes she retched onto the floor,
quickly removing the small meal she had eaten earlier. The acid burned her through, but eventually the sickness subsided. As her nose grew
accustomed the odour, a new sense was assaulted.
It took all of her willpower not to run back to her cell, to its darkness. The gore she witnessed made her cry, the tears flowing freely. Bodies had
been ripped apart by magic. Corpses burned by flames disintegrated. Others were nothing but skin and bone, drained of substance by entropic spells.
Eltha stared at her feet as she and Uldred ascended the multiple levels of the tower. Each level contained much of the same as the first, and Eltha
muttered a prayer to the Maker for the souls lost. At this, Uldred turned and gave her a quizzical look, but said nothing.
They passed through the library, the storeroom, and the senior enchanter’s chamber. The sight of Owain’s cadaver lying face down in a pile of
ingredients used for alchemy had reinforced the flow of tears for a short time before she regained composure. She had grown fond of the Tranquil
man. Even though his expressionless face often gave her the creeps, he had always been kind. He had suggested many tomes for her to read, and
she had enjoyed his company. It saddened her to see his grim fate.
Survive, she thought again. It was her only goal.
At last they reached the foot of the stairwell that led to the Harrowing Chamber; Irving’s last line of defence. About two dozen mages stood,
watching her intently. Eltha noticed that many of them had cuts on their arms, but then she remembered that they were blood mages. To draw
the power that they needed, the blood had to come from them.
“Brothers and sisters!” Uldred called out, arms raised high in address. “We have almost won this fight. You have all done well today. Soon, the
mages of Fereldan will be free to practice whatever they please. Irving does not see this, so he must fall!”
Cheers and hollers egressed from the mouths of the crowd. They all followed as Uldred sprinted up the stairs as fast as his robes would allow.
Eltha wondered if she could turn and run, but thought otherwise. There was likely hundreds of armed men outside the front door, which she had
noticed was locked with magic.
Warily, she climbed the steps. Fear gripped her, screaming at her to not continue. But she had to prove to Uldred that she was on his side, or
he would denounce her and likely have her imprisoned, or worse. Clutching her staff, she breathed deeply, and entered the chamber.
It was chaos. Spells of fire, ice, electricity, and wind flew in all directions. The room shook with the force of impact as wayward casts missed their
mark, striking the walls and floor. Dust and debris billowed inward, coating the bodies on the floor in a thin film of grime.
The senior enchanters were holding their own against the blood mages. Eltha saw Irving at their head, power rippling around him. His grey hair
was matted to his scalp with sweat, effort creasing his aged face. His staff channeled mana, striking an enemy in the chest. The unlucky recipient
was launched across the room by the primal power. Irving was immediately back in action, shouting commands and warning to his enchanters. They
had been backed into a corner of the room, doing their best to maintain their arcane shields.
The enchanters had two healers who stood behind the rest, casting rejuvenation and regeneration spells. Glyphs of paralysis dotted the floor at their
feet, protecting against any direct attacks.
The blood mages had numbers, but even with the help of blood magic, they were failing. Uldred was red with rage, casting spell after spell into the
protective wards of the enchanters. Infuriated, he stepped behind the front lines and bashed an ally in the back of the head with his staff.
“Incompetent imbeciles!
“Irving! This ends now!” Uldred locked eyes with the first enchanter, and Irving’s eyes went wide with shock as he saw what Uldred was doing.
“No, you fool! Blood magic draws more powerful demons!” But it was too late.
A shimmering purple doorway opened before Uldred; he had ripped the Veil. Hideous fingers gripped the edge of the tear, and a monstrous looking
being stepped forward. Its multiple eyes scanned the room, analyzing its surroundings. Spikes jutted from its massive shoulders, and it stood twice
the size of the mages.
“Ahh, Uldred,” it laughed. It had the same voice the Eltha had heard earlier. This demon had been a part of Uldred for longer than even he had
realized. It had waited patiently, partially tied to Uldred through his desire for power and blood, awaiting a chance to fully enter this world.
“Demon, strike down these fools!” Uldred shouted.
“Oh, come now. You are too prideful,” it chided. “I don’t think I’ll be doing anything you ask.”
Uldred’s mouth was open in wonder, “N-Nonsense, you will…”
“Silence!” the demon commanded.
Uldred abruptly stopped speaking. The entire chamber had ceased their casting, and all had their eyes on the pride demon.
“You mages are very entertaining,” it said.
This was immediately met with multiple spells as the blood mages and enchanters attacked the demon. Its laughter boomed as the spells had no
effect on it. Eltha was rooted to the spot, now completely lost to her fear. A stain appeared at the crotch of her robes, but she didn’t even feel it.
The demon placed its large hand on Uldred’s head, and leaned down to look the mage in the eye. “You are mine.”
The last thing Eltha saw was a blinding light as the room erupted. She could hear Uldred’s screams, and the shrieks of horror from the enchanters and
mages. She closed her eyes tight, hoping to wake in her cell at any moment as the demons laughter drummed to her core.
“You are all mine!”
< Message edited by MiraG3 -- 1/17/2012 19:30:07 >
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