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Post by mark amell on Apr 30, 2014 18:38:04 GMT
| he had been surprised when the librarian at the front desk had not even taken a second glance at his freshly-laundered warden robes before directing him to the magic section of the library. he's surprised that such books are even available to the public, but he supposes that anyone who could do much harm with them were probably already secured behind circle doors.
however, they did seem to express silent disapproval when he sprawled himself all over a couch to read. maybe it was unsightly? orlesians did have strange priorities.
mark certainly did not escape the circle of magi to spend the rest of his days languishing in a moldy old library, but even he does not forget their familiar siren's song. especially when he's looking to exploring these newfound powers of his. say what you wanted about the blood mage, but he wasn't about to dive into a situation completely blindfolded. magic is all about sacrifice, and those who do not care to learn about the weight of their payment are those who have no right to complain when they lose more than they anticipated.
(those who believe that maleficarum are the only ones who make real sacrifice - those are the real fools)
fear, he thinks, is the real enemy of any mage. mark has little fear of his own abilities, and with every hour in the orlesian library, he fears force magic even less.
he wets the corner of this particularly old tome to turn the page, and decides that he would rather not do that again when a layer of dust sticks to his fingers.
GABRIEL CAZAL |  |
coded by electric of gs |
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HUMAN
“ self-fulling prophecy of endless possibility. ”
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Post by GABRIEL CAZAL on Apr 30, 2014 19:06:20 GMT
The head librarian does not want to let Gabriel in again. Her shrill voice crests and falls like the ocean tides as they argue at the front desk.
Maybe calling it an argument is intellectually dishonest. It plays out more like this: the woman lectures him, and Gabriel bats his eyelashes while looking like he's paying attention, waiting for the moment there's a lull in her speech.
She sucks in a breath and Gabriel steps in to take his chance.
"I'm very, very sorry," he drawls smooth as silk. And he is. Although he has absolutely no memory of whatever it was he did to get banned from the University of Orlais library last time. All he remember is deciding to bring a bottle of a Tevinter vintage he'd found in the marketplace with him, which perhaps had been a bit of a mistake. "And I promise it will never happen again. But we both know you can't actually ban me from the premises, so let's just stop raising a scene, yes?"
She goes mottled red for a moment and then puffs down, on the condition that he at least be chaperoned by that other layabout Grey Warden who is currently buried in the archives. It's a small price to pay, so Gabriel slinks off obligingly, wrinkling his nose as he tries to remember if anyone mentioned they were also interested in the library today. Maker, he hopes it isn't Peter. He can't stand Peter.
It isn't Peter, he discovers when he rounds the last row of shelves. It isn't anyone he knows at all in the Order, actually. How fascinating! He plops down across from the man and quirks a smile at him.
"Hello, fellow Grey Warden comrade." LAIKA OF GS! |
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Post by mark amell on Apr 30, 2014 20:49:29 GMT
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the secret to discretion, he's found, is to be utterly outrageous about it. mark enamors himself with his own lies and smiles with a rather straight set of teeth for medieval thedas.
"hello to you too, comrade warden" he drawls. then he remembers that he's wearing a robe with the ensign of the ferelden wardens. "lovely library you orlesians have got. i imagine that your first enchanter must spend half his life here."
the mark of foreignness is welcome here when he probably couldn't bullshit his way out of actual knowledge on the orlesian wardens. in his experience, mages are easily diverted. information is rather tricky like that.
his book lays open in his lap, revealing the page with "chapter 8: common misconceptions about force magic" in faded black letters.
GABRIEL CAZAL | |
coded by electric of gs |
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HUMAN
“ self-fulling prophecy of endless possibility. ”
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Post by GABRIEL CAZAL on May 1, 2014 4:01:36 GMT
"They do treat you lot better in Ferelden. I'd heard the rumors, but one knows how rumors are. Flighty little things. How embarrassing that the doglords are more giving with their knowledge for poor little mages."
Gabriel cranes his neck rather blatantly to get a look at the book the other man is reading and then leans back into his chair. He resists the temptation to haul a table over to prop his feet up on--h he can feel the librarian glaring daggers into his back, and it's best to wait a few minutes before risking her ire again. "No, I'm afraid the First Enchanter at the White Spire has probably never been here in his life. They keep us locked up over here if they can. Decent library at this Circle though, I've heard. No experience myself, and I'm not so intrigued that I'd pop over for a look. They can't keep you when you're a Warden, but they can make it damned hard to leave."
He rolls his shoulders, working a few kinks out.
"Shame about your Warden-Commander. A real tragedy, that. She'd gotten people to take us seriously again! It must have been quite the blow for your lot."
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Post by mark amell on May 1, 2014 4:41:09 GMT
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mark's grin grows wider and wider until he's practically eating shit, although it's more from suppressed hilarity than the battle glory that he doesn't really have.
"that tends to happen when your branch becomes responsible for saving all of thedas, yes." he imagines that the orlesians would have had a lovely view, if only they bothered to show up. "the ferelden circle has sacrificed much to get where they are." half their apprentices, in fact, never mind that half of them were illegal blood mages. he almost sounds a little fond. for all of its failings, marching to battle against the archdemon did wonders for mark's personal regard.
he snorts. "how typical of a first magistar." he never did like irwing much, himself. "being able to waltz in and out of circles is great fun - you're really missing out there, comrade."
tevinter had been an enlightening experience. so had antiva. he had visited kirkwall in the hopes of seeing the mecca of force magic, but...well, everyone knows what had transpired there. mark regrets the fate of that circle - all that knowledge on his new chosen field, dying with their masters.
mark will always be chasing lost ghosts, it seems.
he thinks about ellorian tabris quietly for a moment. she had been quite content to lead them all to their deaths, although mark had no particular objection at the time. he has no particular objection now. whether they are dying in the circle or dying for all of thedas, he does not see much of a difference. mages often die for things that they do not fully understand. such is the nature of a gentle hope.
"she was quite a woman, certainly." he chirps. "and cut quite a fine figure up close. 'tis truly a loss for all of thedas" he grins cheekily.
GABRIEL CAZAL | |
coded by electric of gs |
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HUMAN
“ self-fulling prophecy of endless possibility. ”
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Post by GABRIEL CAZAL on May 2, 2014 2:30:23 GMT
Gabriel snorted. "It counts for less when your branch started the problem, practically. You barbarians had a run of utterly stupid rulers there for a time. The ditz king and the traitor. Not like our glorious Imperial Highness, the radiant sun of Empress Celeste. No wonder you needed our gentle stewardship."
He blinked lazily and shrugged.
"Ah well. Heroes are always running off without a word. That's what the rest of us are for. Eminently responsible. Hard to be in the Grey Wardens for glory. Who is the new Warden-Commander? Or are you running around like headless chickens?" LAIKA OF GS! |
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Post by mark amell on May 2, 2014 4:01:43 GMT
| "ah, yes." he sits back and laces his fingers together, chuckling to himself. "the best perspectives are often found in hindsight, aren't they? i am sure that the view from orlais had been lovely." he tilts his head slightly. "it is a rather beautiful spring, actually. almost a little hard to believe that her imperial highness is waging civil war at about now."
not that he had known much about loghain and cailan at the time. there had been a lot of confusion and rumors at the circle, and they had almost thrown their lot in with the losing side. funny how things worked out.
"i would presume that we have one, but i have been on research sabbatical abroad for several months now. the loss of kirkwall was a blow to mages everywhere, and there is a need to rectify that loss." especially for practitioners of force magic. he smiles. "and you seriously overestimate my rank within the order." more than this orlesian warden knows. "i'm not having morning tea with even the warden-constable every day, pleasant woman that she is."
and he's only really saying that because he was in the lothering bar the day that karimi burst in and bought drinks for everyone after a particularly staggering win against the darkspawn.
GABRIEL CAZAL | |
coded by electric of gs |
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HUMAN
“ self-fulling prophecy of endless possibility. ”
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Post by GABRIEL CAZAL on May 2, 2014 18:54:44 GMT
He decides abruptly that he didn't really care if the librarian came over to shriek at him again. Regardless of whatever she does, he has a feeling the conversation is about to get a lot more interesting. Leaning forward for a moment, he pulled a table over and propped his boots up on it, before settling back into his chair.
"So," Gabriel said, looking at the other man through one half-lidded eye. The black eyepatch covering his other eye remained as blank as it ever did. "You're a Grey Warden traveling specifically on a research sabbatical from Ferelden, and you're studying force magic in particular, but rather than come introduce yourself to the Wardens stationed here, who have a veteran specialist in force magic among their ranks, you hole up in the library with no word that you're here, content to study on your own. I ask about the state of the Order in Ferelden, and you've conveniently been away for months and months, rendering you incapable of giving me any real details that might contradict what I do know about the Ferelden Wardens, beyond the vague confirmation that the Warden-Constable is a woman."
He grinned. It was, in truth, a friendly grin. Unless you were darkspawn or he was drunk in a bar, Gabriel didn't have a malicious interest in most people; he just enjoyed needling them.
"What did you say your name was again, comrade?" LAIKA OF GS! |
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Post by mark amell on May 4, 2014 23:45:29 GMT
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he can't help but smirk a little. "please, do tell me more about your astute observations." he thinks about the man's attitude towards him and spins another lie. "what makes you think that your branch would have made time for a ferelden doglord?" he is surprised that the warden approached him at all, actually. the grey wardens preached unity without borders, without castes, but mark thinks that he knows better. these things aren't dissolved so easily, no matter what attitude the commanders have to maintain.
he sits back in his seat and raises a single eyebrow. "unless you're simply offended that i made no move to seek you out." the warden isn't concealing his interest very well, and it seemed like a plausible explaination for this scenario. he opens his mouth to continue, but a looming shadow towers over him.
"it seems--" the librarian is not particularly loud, but the poison in her tone is suffocating enough to make her point nevertheless. "--that you two will never have enough chaperones, and i'll have to call in the entire orlesian branch before anyone here gets any peace and quiet" mark faintly wonders if those are actual words that she is producing. he didn't think that the orlesian dialect would contain nearly this much hissing.
mark is severely tempted to ask if this means that he can't get a library card here, but he decides not to push his luck. it wouldn't do to cause an actual incident here. he's had plenty of those during his time in nevarra, and he's not eager to repeat the experience. not until he brushes up on some basics, at least.
"i promise to behave, ma'am." he gives her the same pouting look that he used to give wynne, except she had never believed him. this librarian didn't know him so well, however. maybe mark would get lucky.
GABRIEL CAZAL | |
coded by electric of gs |
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HUMAN
“ self-fulling prophecy of endless possibility. ”
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Post by GABRIEL CAZAL on May 5, 2014 5:06:00 GMT
Maker, that librarian could shoot daggers with her eyes. They should have her up on the front lines in the Deep Roads; the dwarves would have their whole kingdom back in a week. Unfortunately for her, however, Gabriel had been on the receiving end of that kind of look his whole life. It had stopped working when he learned he could make flame come out of his hands.
In fact, he wasn't sure he could even feel guilt anymore. Was that worrying? He couldn't say he was particularly worried about not being able to--which again, might be cause for worry.
He grinned up at the woman. "Warden business, ma'am. If you don't shut your yapper, I'm setting fire to the first shelf of books I see, and I won't be stopping with just the one, either. Now hold tight for a minute and then we'll be on our way."
Gabriel turned back to the alleged other Warden and shrugged, mouth twisting in a caricature of a familiar, exasperated grin.
"Don't get snippy with me just because your story has more holes in it than a Rivaini barmaid," he said. "If anything, I'm offended it was so poor. You're lucky you got me. Someone else might actually have you arrested. Me, I'm just curious." LAIKA OF GS! |
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Post by mark amell on May 5, 2014 6:22:38 GMT
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if the warden wasn't saving them both from a librarian, mark probably would have snorted a little. warden business. then again, he wouldn't have been surprised if there were at least some grey mages who would set fire to a library in the name of 'warden business'. he just didn't expect to encounter those in orlais so quickly -- lucky him. he means it.
"so i was right." he grins. he hadn't expected to find a force 'veteran' so quickly. "my, you do have a high opinion of yourself. maybe i should have requested to be transferred to the white spire in my youth." much fewer skulking apprentices about, he imagines.
maker, that makes him feel so old. at least he's still got his looks.
he winks at the librarian as he sets his book down and follows the force mage out. "perhaps i don't place as much value on being convincing as you do." he says as they walk out of sight. "if i told you a suitable story, then you might have left me alone. then where would we be?" mark would be left cobbling together some amateur research, and the warden would be pestering some other poor sap, probably. between a warden mage and a circle mage, mark thinks that he'll take the warden, considering that he's not darkspawn.
"we're mages. being arrested is probably a little lenient, all things considered" he chuckles.
GABRIEL CAZAL | |
coded by electric of gs |
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HUMAN
“ self-fulling prophecy of endless possibility. ”
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Post by GABRIEL CAZAL on May 5, 2014 6:48:26 GMT
Gabriel laughed.
"You probably couldn't tell a convincing story if your life depended on it. Especially when for all you knew earlier, it did. Extended research sabbatical, honestly. You'd just be strung up somewhere by a length of rope, I imagine, some zealous templar slavering over your corpse and I'd be peacefully enjoying my afternoon beer by now, surrounded by the sultry tomes of the University."
"Anyway, being arrested by the Grey Wardens is never lenient. We'd probably just gangpress you into service on the front line. A crueler death sentence than the Circle, probably, but I doubt my commander would be losing any sleep over it. But that's so boring. I've already watched five hapless recruits go screaming and sniveling to their deaths this week, I'm tired of the screeching. And you can never get the smell of piss out of their uniforms properly, so we can't even re-use them for the next batch.
So what's the real story: are you a tender innocent apostate, raised by dearest mummy when she couldn't bear to send you away to the Circle? A seasoned maleficar, with years of foul deeds behind you but burdened by an absolute lack of imagination? Oh, you know what would be new--if you were a Tevinter magister on the run from political enemies, driven from your estate and waiting in the shadows to swoop back upon all you've lost and wreak vengeance upon those who wronged you! I've never heard that one before."
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Post by mark amell on May 5, 2014 7:40:26 GMT
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he sighs dramatically.
"if you thought that it was a lousy story, then it's probably because it's got too much truth in it." and to think the enchanters had given him so much trouble for lies told during his childhood. "i suppose you were looking for something else."
he rather likes the story that the warden is telling, actually. "you still have time to do all of those things." perhaps he is digging his grave, but he doubts that the opinion of one apostate matters to a warden anyway. he could be lead towards the orlesian gallows. one that he would just have to escape, but he'll take the off chance that the warden isn't actually interested in doing either of those things. especially since mark might not have even been kicked out of the library if not for the warden. the apostate sincerely hopes that this encounter does not come to nothing. he would be pretty annoyed if it did. "i was always under the impression that wardens only gangpressed the exceedingly competent. i'm only average with a washboard, mind you."
"you couldn't even believe a boring version of my story." mark replies lazily. "or maybe you would prefer a more graphic version? it'll involve the blight, naturally since the ferelden part was true. oh, and a few disgraced nobles who literally went from riches to rags" no thanks to him, honestly.
"the research sabbatical was actually much, much longer than a few months, sorry." he gets a little more ambitious when they reach an emptier part of the library. "warden-constable karimi really can outdrink any man in ferelden without passing out, and watching abominations swallow a templar is actually a lot more disgusting than i imagined."
he pauses. "but you're a warden, so i suppose that the part about the archdemon would be much more interesting" his account doesn't even sound like the truth anymore, and mark has to admit that it doesn't to him either when he has to recite it out loud.
this is the part where he's hauled off to the templar order, probably. except mark doubts it. not after the warden has gone through so much trouble to make sure that they survive a disgruntled librarian.
GABRIEL CAZAL | |
coded by electric of gs |
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HUMAN
“ self-fulling prophecy of endless possibility. ”
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Post by GABRIEL CAZAL on May 7, 2014 22:29:55 GMT
"We only recruit the best when we want them to live," Gabriel said thoughtfully. "But don't worry. There's a long storied tradition among the Orlesian Wardens of recruiting people we hate or who crossed us and banking on the very likely fact that they'll be dead within the week. Within the day, sometimes."
He stuck his hands in his pockets, sizing up a tavern across the street. It didn't call itself a tavern, of course--it was too jammed pack full of snooty nobles to label itself as anything so common, but it was a tavern, no matter what airs it put on. He wondered if this was still too nice a part of the city to make a scene in. He wondered if he cared.
"If you tell me you actually killed the archdemon and the Hero of Ferelden has been running a longtime con game, I probably won't believe you," Gabriel said. "Aside from that, I'm not sure how riveting a tale you could weave."
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Post by mark amell on May 8, 2014 0:40:33 GMT
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"very apolitic of you" he remarks. "what happens if the people that you hate end up succeeding extrodinarily?" he imagines that mutiny is not very common, even in orlais. it would be fitting, mark supposes. the truest hell is always the one that is self-inflicted.
mark takes in the sort of crowd that the tavern attracted and wonders if he afford a beer even if he sold his staff. maybe not in this kind of economy. thankfully, the establishment seemed to remember that poorer people did exist in val royeux. he is handed an ale after passing the bartender a few coppers. it's a lot less watered down than the sort that he would find in lothering, which mark can appreciate.
"you know, that's almost ridiculous enough to be true." and it's even more hilarious since it could have been true if duncan was at the circle of magi on that fateful day. "but you underestimate my interest in staying alive. bearing witness to the battle of denerim was in the best interest of any thedosian with the means" and by 'means', he meant the power to stay alive for longer than two hours during a darkspawn onslaught. a bit of authorization never hurt, either.
he looks thoughtful. "but the former would be a rather sensationalist tale. i bet the bards would be able to spread it faster than the chant of light."
and then of course, there is the elephant in the room.
"mock me all that you like, comrade warden, but i have learned much more about the orlesian wardens than i have about you" he smiles.
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