HUMAN
“ self-fulling prophecy of endless possibility. ”
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Post by GABRIEL CAZAL on May 8, 2014 5:07:38 GMT
He eyed the other man's choice of ale with blatant distaste, and then folded his arms on the bar, leaning forward.
"Aqua Magus," he said crisply. "A shot. No, make that two shots. It'd probably take at least half a bottle at once to kill me. Don't look at me like that. I know you have it stocked. Scurry."
He stepped back.
"If they succeed extraordinarily, they succeed extraordinarily! It's a beautiful story of merit succeeding over the innate human desire to kill people you don't like. At the end of the day, what's a little murder between comrades?"
The bartender reappeared, grimacing, and slid two shots of a shimmering blue liquid across the burnished oak counter top to Gabriel.
"You're a real Orlesian hero," Gabriel said to him, and then tipped one back into his mouth, swallowing lightning quick. "Andraste's tits, that never stops tasting like shit." He reached up to tie his mane of white hair back in a ponytail, and then shrugged. Decided to blatantly ignore half of what the other man had said and address the rest.
"Now that the Hero of Ferelden has pulled a runner, you'll probably get no better chance to spread your slander," he said. "The people love a good rumor. I mean, you'll probably never be able to go to Ferelden again, but who wants to go back there anyway? It's filthy and smells like wet dog. And the rain. At least the Anderfels are dry."
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Post by mark amell on May 10, 2014 9:24:52 GMT
| figures that it would be an orlesian who has stupidly expensive tastes in alcohol, huh. mark watches the exchange and thinks that it wouldn't be too bad to indulge like that on occasion. maybe it's about time that he should look into more ... consistent jobs in tevinter instead of slaying every templar that comes after him and stripping them of their belongings.
"i would drink to that. may they live long and prosper." of course, he doesn't actually know if half the people that he's betrayed are dead. eh, not his concern anymore.
"the mabari are cute" and they eat nearly anything, unlike certain people in a certain westerly country. "i prefer a degree of anonymity in my exploits, and i doubt that people will believe that the hero of ferelden slew the archdemon with a flour sack on his head." at least his fellow ex-apprentices might get a good laugh out of it. surana would probably just burst into tears.
of course, mark still hasn't forgotten that gabriel is half the reason that he's been kicked out of the library. he sincerely hopes that this conversation is meant to go somewhere. the ale is better than the sort in lothering, but not enough to make up for lost time. "so do you take every foreign mage to one of these swanky taverns, or am i just the thousandth lucky encounter?"
he's on the verge of walking out after his first mug, and the warden is more than welcome to stop him. if he can.
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 12, 2014 16:30:01 GMT
He rolls the empty shot glass between his fingers. Light refracts off the bottom, still covered in a faint glossy blue sheen from the liquor. It is threading in his veins, like poison, like wine. The lyrium is trace but he can still feel the kick.
Gabriel rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck from side to side.
"I take every foreign mage out," he says. "They're a good, endless supply of scapegoats for when I get into bar fights. It wasn't me! The stupid foreign mage insulted someone and I couldn't just let him get his ass kicked, I had to step in. You know how it goes."
He reaches for the second shot, downs it. The lyrium roars. He wishes for a bottle.
"It's only the ones researching force magic out of a book that I'm interested in though, if only for the trainwreck. Learning magic out of a book, Maker. Take the kid out of the Circle, can't take the Circle out of the kid."
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Post by mark amell on May 14, 2014 21:06:21 GMT
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mark finds himself nodding in approval before remembering that he probably shouldn't be. it sounded like something that he would have done. have done, actually, back when he was a circle mage of some repute.
more repute than an apostate has now, at any rate.
"i imagine that a barfight involving a mage wouldn't last long enough to be particularly destructive anyway." mark assumes of course, that the warden would be firing basic magic like everyone else instead of summoning fireballs from his palm. can't take the circle out of the kid, quite. "though if i'm wrong, i suppose that you might be doing everyone a favor by drinking until you passed out"
he slides a few coppers to the bartender. "kirkwall was my first choice, naturally." as it always has been, force mages or none. "i did not make it in time. meredith...complicated things." meeting an amell took first priority, and mark was not so eager to jump into a war.
"again, you're assuming that the library was my first recourse. rest assured, i would not go through the trouble of jumping borders if i didn't have some idea of what i would be getting out of it."
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 15, 2014 18:51:43 GMT
"Oh, they never last very long," Gabriel said. "They just--well, I suppose you have a 50/50 shot of finding out in the next hour or two. I'd hate to ruin the surprise."
The bartender slid a glass of West Hill brandy in front of him. Lovely. Perhaps the one item of worth that Ferelden had ever produced. He took a sip.
"Well," he said. "What did the books teach you? Go ahead and demonstrate."
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Post by mark amell on May 15, 2014 19:45:17 GMT
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"in the bar? well. i don't suppose that a mage who has never had to fight for his freedom would know discretion if it hit him in the face"
that, and he hasn't refined the art nearly enough to guarentee that some of the furniture will come out of a demonstration in one piece.
mark looks at the bartender dubiously. "he still serves alcohol to a mage who has a history of public disturb--" oh wait. silly him, those are the unreliable foreign mages. "such poor choices in friends? what is your secret?"
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 16, 2014 4:49:06 GMT
"In the bar," Gabriel repeated after him, practically purring with glee. He stretched out his arms over the bar, all indolent, uncaring grace. He smiled at Mark like he knew a secret--which was actually the truth.
"No need to shudder in the corner like a scared mouse," he said, reaching again for his glass of brandy. "Where's that famous Grey Warden fire? What are they going to do to you if you break a few chairs or shatter a table: absolutely nothing--you might rile up some ill feelings, but you'll be quite unscathed, I assure you. You are a Grey Warden, aren't you? There's no sense in dressing yourself up like a child who has gotten into father's closet if you won't bother to at least act the part."
He tossed back the last of his drink. The amber liquid burned smooth going down.
"Besides, I'm interested in viewing what kind of technique the written word is imparting these days. If it's poor enough, I might be motivated to actually write my own treatise. Make some extra gold."
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Post by mark amell on May 17, 2014 21:16:47 GMT
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mark has passed his harrowing; he knows when he is being baited. at the same time, he has been a circle mage; he also knows when he has a knife held to his throat. honestly, the warden might as well have been a significantly less ugly pride demon. a quite attractive pride demon, actually. he's absolutely being toyed with, and the fact that mark doesn't feel the urge to be running in the opposite direction is probably the most dangerous part about all this.
unfortunately, danger is always where all the fun is.
he remembers the mouse from his own harrowing and wonders when he had gotten so careless. he is still free because he is potentially entertaining, and mark is not so arrogant as to assume otherwise.
"you drive a hard bargain, comrade warden." he smiles. mark thinks long and hard about the page that he had been browsing before the warden had so rudely interrupted him.
he takes out his staff and turns it counterclockwise, clockwise, before slamming the end into the ground, as prescribed. it's all very clinical, and mark is rewarded with a magical pressure that ends up crushing a chair -- and caving in a part of the ceiling. not enough to be a serious structural hazard, but there is plenty of yelling as orlesians dive out of the way, a tad too late. at least mark had contained the force enough not to murder half the patrons. after all, it was barely even a party trick by enchanter standards. people should scream when he wants them to, and not before.
it's absolutely pathetic, and their fear leaves a bad taste in his mouth. mark gets up and decides to leave before the warden makes any more demands of him.
he had thought that going to kirkwall had been a good idea. his mistake.
"satisfied, i hope." his voice betrays none of his bitterness. he can lie to the templars. he is plenty capable of lying to a warden.
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 18, 2014 14:49:46 GMT
Gabriel watches the Orlesian upper crust scatter with hooded eyes. He even lets himself indulge in a smile. They're a sad lot, really, and it baffles him that these are the people who run the glorious machinations of the empire. He feels no attachment to Gabriel Cazal, the peasant child laboring on a farm, nor any real sympathies with the poor of Orlais, but he finds it intellectually repulsive that these are the ones with the power of life and death. He tries to imagine any of them working in a field or voyaging into the Deep Roads and even his own brilliant (in his opinion) mind conjures up only a blank.
And then he doesn't care anymore. He shrugs and laughs and turns back towards the faux Warden.
"You have good form for someone who only learned from a book," he says. "And a restrained sense of style. The Ferelden Circle obviously had some teachers of worth--or was that all innate?"
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Post by mark amell on May 18, 2014 15:10:07 GMT
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he didn't actually learn the spell twenty minutes ago. he had spent plenty of time browsing the books at kirkwall. unfortunately, half of the leading scholarship on force magic had been eaten up by the fires of the mage rebellion, and orlais was the only public place with the money to keep a copy. mark decides that it isn't really worth correcting.
but the warden's question does make him pause for a second, if only to laugh a little. "the ferelden circle? restraint? how many other circles do you know have been overrun by abominations and demons?" granted, that was mostly uldred's fault, but mark will take the opportunity to besmirch irwing's memory when he can.
his own blood sings to him, as it always will. there is power. there is always power for those who are willing to take the step. that is when mark will turn out his pockets and remind himself that he is an impoverished man.
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 19, 2014 13:51:42 GMT
"Wellll," Gabriel said, drumming his fingers against the bar. "I'm not sure if you missed a little incident in Kirkwall a few years ago--wasn't anything of note, really--but that Circle seemed to have their fair share of problems with blood mages and abominations. And unlike the Ferelden Circle, they really did get slapped with the Right of Annulment and slaughtered almost to a man. Starkhaven's burned down under the most suspicious of circumstances. The Dairsmuid Circle had their little rebellion. The Blood Sisters of Vehnstel were quite notorious. The White Spire incident might not have technically been blood magic but it was illegal, to say the least. You know, listing all this, I'm starting to think the templars are right about us. Maybe they should lock up most mages and throw away the key."
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Post by mark amell on May 19, 2014 19:33:37 GMT
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he did mention paying a little visit to kirkwall awhile back. what did the warden think he was enjoying, the flower beds in hightown? (they were nice flowerbeds)
"see? mages are dangerous whether you have a cage or not." he eyes the hole in the ceiling. well. it doesn't seem like he'll be getting a drink here anytime soon. "by that reasoning, you might as well suggest mass tranquility. and if you keep thinking like that, then where would you be?" he's watched plenty of apprentices drive themselves mad at the thought. it was never pretty.
he shrugs. "but please, don't let me criticize."
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 21, 2014 13:57:51 GMT
The bartender had disappeared somewhere. Presumably to wherever most of his patrons had gotten to in the wake of part of the roof collapsing on them. Gabriel hopped the bar and fished out the bottle of Aqua Magus from a shelf, pouring himself another shot.
"Mass Tranquility," he said. "Now that is a great idea. Think of how much whining it would put a stop to. Blah blah mage rights. Blah blah oppression. Blah blah I miss the sun please let me out of solitary confinement. And once we actually got them Tranquil, they certainly wouldn't care about it. I vote starting with the White Spire. Bunch of sops."
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Post by mark amell on May 21, 2014 20:55:02 GMT
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"heh. i can see why nobody made you the first enchanter." he can't help but agree, though. maker's breath, he was friends with jowan and surana for the longest time. "though you seem to be doing a lot of the complaining yourself. birds of a feather, i suppose."
mark pauses for a second and hears footsteps in the distance. footsteps approaching the tavern. he pulls over his hood. "if all you've been doing is stalling for templars, then i hope that they aren't your favorite ones." for the warden's sake and theirs.
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 27, 2014 2:27:41 GMT
"Well once we make you Tranquil," Gabriel said airily, twirling the bottle of alcohol, "You won't mind at all, will you! It'll be win-win for both of us."
The templars padded into the bar. Their armor clanked an awful racket. One of them looked at Gabriel and, in a very un-templar manner, rolled his eyes.
"What, are you afraid of a few little templars?" Gabriel grinned at Mark. "You're a Warden, comrade! Get over there and awe them into submission with your diplomatic neutrality."
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