Hi I saw you mention wanting to talk about schools of magic and specializations; do you want to talk about the arcane/primal earth DAO -> force mage DA2 -> rift magic DAI transformation and what that says about the different places that various protagonists learned their magic/what the fade is like in Kirkwall (I feel like I saw you mention that "fade is thin in Kirkwall" + "yeah rift magic, which has all the force mage spells, is a new school since the giant hole in the sky" was a bit of an odd take)?
Alternately, would you like to talk about the arcane warrior -> knight enchanter thing and how the chantry getting ahold of ancient elven battle magic might have occurred? And what that means for the Greater Lore?
Anyways love your blog and you have the best takes ❤️
i actually just made a joke about the obvious similarities of force magic and rift magic and it’s @miraculan-draws who had the really great take about the veil in kirkwall that made me take this seriously!
it really can’t be overstated how fucked the veil is in kirkwall. the sheer amount of demons out and about! the way you can just become an abomination with a snap of your fingers no trip into the fade to make contact with demons necessary! good lord! it’s also worth noting that it’s not even just the mass suffering and slavery that has happened here and is literally painted onto the walls; kirkwall, insanely, is intentionally built in the form of giant glyphs and iirc it’s implied it was used by magisters as a mass blood ritual for entering the fade, possibly even THE entering the fade? not to mention corypheus’ prison nearby or keeping the mages in the GALLOWS of all places or the histories of occupation or sundermount. mass death and suffering causes tears in the veil. nobody should live in kirkwall. nobody should fucking live there. it would totally make sense if force magic, a brand of magic specifically noted to be popular in kirkwall, required the same closeness to the fade as rift magic. kirkwallers don’t need a breach they literally just live like that
as for arcane warrior/knight enchanter, it’s covered really interestingly by ariane in the witch hunt dlc and velanna in the awakening dlc that a lot of the circle’s magical knowledge is essentially appropriated from ancient elven knowledge that they were able to preserve while the dalish were robbed of it. that’s what’s happening when you take ariane to kinloch to get information on eluvians and some random young human mage knows more than her and her keeper, and ariane talks about this at the time. velanna and anders also have this banter:
it comes up a lot in anders’ banters with dalish mages that he is coming from having grown up in a place intended for the sharing and discussion of magical knowledge, where bickering academic rivalries as well as political ones are commonplace, and learning from each other and living side by side is what makes them better safer mages. (which is one thing abt the circle i think he actually misses and tries, however awkwardly, to seek out. imo he’s just parroting “great civilisations are built on the sharing of ideas” here, it sounds way more like something that’s been said to him than something he would think. he wants to talk abt magic bc he’s lonely and on the run and used to be surrounded by people to talk abt magic with! vivienne talks abt this more intentionally, she makes good points abt mages thriving when they’re together among those who can understand them.) whereas merrill and velanna grow up in a background where magic is quite individual and private, shared from one keeper to one first and (according to merrill) never practised in public, and that’s a safety measure to protect them from templars and to protect elven knowledge from being taken away from them as it has been previously. so obviously they’re not engaging with the first human mage trying to blunder his way into discussion with no sensitivity at all by picking the kind of fights he’s used to, which velanna and merrill obviously wouldn’t have context for
that’s a tangent abt characters bc i love talking abt anders merrill and velanna and the way i think they think abt magic, ignore me. anyway. my POINT is i imagine the ideas behind knight-enchanter came into the hands of circle mages and the chantry in a similar way to finn’s knowledge about eluvians in witch hunt. that seems natural enough. i believe you can have a conversation with solas after taking the spec where you discuss what the ancient elven arcane warriors might think to see their abilities in the hands of the chantry?
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Bad End, Chosen: Part 4
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The Cycles never "loaded" back in at quite the same point. It was something I had noticed, though I had only suffered a few of them so far. It was like the God's were hoping "Chapter" to "Chapter", fickle and easily bored, trying desperately to find something NEW.
It made planning all but impossible.
Where... where was I?
A simple room. A suitcase before me. Loading or unloading? I held a robe in my hands. Painfully familiar. I had worn them for years. The highly protective robes of Mage initiates, at the Magic Tower. Meant to work as armor, life support, even... God's forbid, an emergency beacon. They were hideous. Function over form.
I could cry, for how deeply I loved these ugly robes.
No one had EVER been able to figure out how to style them properly. God's know, we had TRIED. But when The Dark came? This ugly, ugly things? These long complained about hand-me-downs? Oh... oh they had saved so, SO many student's lives.
Such tiny little things. Pulled from the rubble, still breathing. All because of these chaotic, gaudy, terribly comfortable and so deeply loved, old robes. T...They truely were as hideous as I remembered, weren't they? Blocks upon blocks of overlapping stitches and patches, too many colors, as though the tower was too stubborn to throw as single thing away.
We were.
We... we NEVER leave anything or anyONE behind.
Packrats, all of us. Such terrible hoarders. But... I looked around. It did not tell me the date. Was I leaving? Joining the tower? How old was I supposed to be? I pulled on my robes.
It felt like coming home. Like balm against the raw nerves of my still fragile mind. I felt old. Brittle. At... at terrible odds, with my young skin. I wondered if this was how she felt. The woman, the poor girl, that came before me. Before she broke so badly even the God's could not force her to perform. I did not want to admit I understood the impulse.
Ah, there.
I had once, what felt like lifetimes ago. What WAS lifetimes ago. Bought this very calander. It was cute. Little fairy dragons danced upon the edges, delicate and joyous. They were, of course, incorrectly drawn. The artist had never seen a real fairy dragon, only heard of them. I had seen some during the war.
People forget that neither the Fae nor Dragons are sweet or gentle things.
They were... Awe inspiring. In the oldest sense of the world. "An overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, and fear." I believe the text defined it. Like living starlight and glass, sung poetry and water. They were the fury of long dead gods and the vengeance of beings who were divine unto themselves.
They removed an entire MOUNTAIN RANGE before they fell. Burned and reduced to molten earth, an entire inland sea. They died like STARS. Violently and with a force that destroyed the void itself. Consuming all that dared stand in their shadow.
Ha. And people think they're CUTE.
Ah...my mind is wandering again. I try to concentrate on the calendar. My... my mind doesn't want too. Oh dear. That's... that's probably a rather bad sign, isn't it?
Opening my eyes at the beginning of the cycle had brough such... CLARITY. As though my head had been held under murky water and finally, FINALLY, I was able to scramble free. But... much like the drowned... I felt something like a high. Adrift. Without my anchor. I wanted my Gran-...
NO.
I grab the dresser before me. Hard enough my knuckles go white. My wide eyes focus far away. Seeing without seeing. Hyperfocused on the woodgrain before me. I am my OWN anchor. Feel the magic in your veins. The push and pull of the world. We are not his slave! Not his PET, to keep and cherish. A toy on a shelf.
I am a PERSON.
I DEFY MY FATE.
A cheerful knock at the door to my room. My eyes finally focusing on the date. Fuck. Moving IN, then. I do not know if I can act "normal". I... I will have to try. I can not unclench my jaw, but with great force of will, finger by finger, I release my grip on the dresser. Stand up. Glance up into the mirror.
I look like I am some hateful little thing, vowing some ugly little vengeance. Perhaps it is just my face. The way anger and spite only barely holds my bleeding edges together. My fear. I...I look like I am about to cry.
What a wretched child.
I try to force a smile.
It looks hideous. More ugly grimace and deep disgust then "oh, Master, how pleased I am to see you!". Fuck. When did I become so broken? A knock again. More hesitant. I breathe deep. I can not do cheerful, then. But...I... I can do nothing.
My face slides into an emotionless mask. Blank. Like a doll. Vaguely pleasant but meaningless. How damningly familiar. Gran-... HE reduced me to this in the end. A few steps. Almost distant, robotic, movement. And I open the door to a once familiar face.
"Learner." My Master smiles, awkward and uncertain. He had not wanted a student. I forced his hand. I know now I never should have done so. He was not ready. "Are you, um, settling? In? I know it is quite different from the life you once lived, but I promise. I will tale care of you. Well figure this out together."
Oh, Master.
I...I wish I could weep. I had forgotten this lie. How deeply I had once believed it. It was a child's promise, from a man who grew old but never, truely, grew up. I was to be failed again and again. Had once given him chance after chance. Because I had believed his words. My eyes feel hot. He looks panicked.
"Ah! W-what did I do? Was that wrong? Please don't cry?! Oh no! Uuuuh-!"
"Well THIS is a record. Not even a day and you've made the child weep." Comes a terrible voice. No. Please, Gods. Not so soon. "Here I am, come to greet my precious Grandlearner. And what do I find? My student, tormenting a child."
My Master sputters defenses of himself. Not even noticing that his own Master did not call him Learner. All but disowned him before me. My fear howls like a deafening beast in my ears. But... cowering? Will not... can not save me. Turning my head is almost painful, with how tightly my muscles have tensed.
That is not the look of a man who does not recognize me.
He remembers.
Alaric Blight stands in truely magnificent Tower Master's robes, as though he has every right to be there. Respected. Beloved. A legendary talent, the likes of which have not been seen for lifetimes. ANYONE would be HONORED to be in his presence. After all... he is a man who holds the world at his feet.
He is a monster.
"Hello Grandlearner," he all but purrs. Stalking forward to loom, as only an adult CAN loom over a child. The power difference between is even greater now. I can not even count myself an ant before him. I... I can not breathe. "What a delicate little thing you are. Utterly precious. And so SMALL! You certainly have a lot of training to do, don't you?"
His hand reaches forward to cup my cheek, sparks of deadly magic dancing lazily across my skin too finely for Master to notice, but not so fine I can not FEEL. It is a subtle threat. A little reminder. Not a single soul in this tower is safe, so long as he is here. All it would take? Is.. Just. One. Touch~
"I'm sure you'll BEHAVE for your Master, WONT you, Dear? After all, he only wants what's best for you. And a darling child like you, Grandlearner? Should be cherished."
"He's right." My Master said, clueless to the monster he let so close. Who so very dispised him. "But... but Master, I'm not sure, well, HOW exactly..."
"Oh don't worry, student of mine." Alaric Blight, monster of my nightmares, hummed in a laughable mimicry of pleasantries. "I'll be with you EVERY step of the way. How could do anything less? We'll train my darling Grandlearner together."
A terrible grin.
"Leave everything to me."
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I remember, back in the day, there were a lot of complaints about various Inquisition companions being hypocritical liberals who didn't want to change the status quo, but like, on replay, it seems obvious that this is very much a Theme for the game. DAO and DA2 star ragtag groups of outcasts, but in DAI, every companion joins the Inquisition under the banner of "restoring order". Despite their wildly different perspectives, every single one of them has a vested interest in returning Thedas to the status quo- much to the frustration of Solas, and yet Solas himself is seeking a return to the original status quo that he now regrets disrupting.
To me, DAI is posing to the player the question that Solas is also asking. "Should this broken, unjust world be destroyed?"
Sera hates nobles and enjoys killing them, but she's not going to lead a peasant rebellion, because she's not willing to pay the price in peasant blood. Iron Bull hates the suffering under feudalism, but he's not willing to lead a Qunari invasion and see the people he loves suffer and die. Vivienne wants power, but she doesn't want the uncertainty and chaos of war. Dorian hates what Tevinter is, but can't give up on reform. Cullen's been physically and mentally destroyed by the Templars but doesn't want them disbanded. Cassandra bitterly disagrees with Chantry doctrine and corruption, but is haunted by every decision that leads to destruction.
Cole learns that killing is not the only way to help.
And they're not supposed to be Right, I think, they're just there as a counterpoint, to show that even in a world as fucked up as Thedas, most people don't want dramatic change. Particularly people who have managed to survive and thrive.
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