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Our own little Awakening. // Dream&Relix



  • From what Deacon noticed, Rage hadn't cared well for his body. But, what Fereldan man did? This province, compared to all of Thedas, was considered the most barbarian; the most callow. It was young and inexperienced, unaware of the medical advances that were being made elsewhere. Luckily, Deacon had studied such practices, enough to be deemed as efficient.

    She was pleased to touch his skin, or at least, give him relief from his haunting physical agony. She drove the heels of her palms up over his shoulders in an arc-like motion, untying knotted muscle that hid below his tortured flesh while each of her wanton digits soothed the pain she may have inflicted. While she had to be rough with his tendons, her touch was still gentle and caring, hesitant during some periods. At the mention of her pharmaceuticals, she couldn't help but to chuckle, though she kept it under wraps as not to disturb the man's lounging. Had his body sincerely been this deprived of such sensations? Had he not experienced them? The reason why she was so flexible and portable was because she often massaged her muscles following an intense battle, but not Rage - by the looks of things she believed he just dropped his sword and tossed himself on the nearest, most appealing bed.

    The woman was prudent to go to far, though she let her hands travel down his spine as far as she could extend them and tended to the muscle there, then rested on his sides where they played up his ribcage. [/list:u]
 
Rage could only coo in delight, his throat too tense to produce words. Brain too busy enjoying the massaging sensation on his back to think of anything to say. The male was in utter bliss, Rage has heard of getting massages before. Normally from old people who's muscles tensed at the slightest movement, he was always judgmental on it. Thinking it was something for soft girly-men or old folks. Clearly, it was something enjoyable for everyone. Grunting lightly, the male felt a light pain as the fingers pressed into the side that held his broken ribs. Just a slight touch near the bruised area sent shocks of pain coursing through his body. Coursing his hands along the sides of the tub, the warrior grabbed lightly every time the person behind him ran their fingers over the bruised skin.

Leaning back, the male forced the hands to retreat from rubbing. Rage felt good, better then he had when he hopped in. A smile of delight rested on his lips, head leaning back, eyes shut as well. A deep exhale passed through his nostrils, shoulders sinking a bit to drop his body into the cooling water. Opening his eyes slowly, the male wanted to see who it was to give him the massage. Whoever it was was definitely skilled in those arts, would need to be thanked thoroughly for their effort in grinding out the knots and tense spots on his body.

And what a shocker; Deacon. Shaking his head lightly, the male closed his eyes again before opening his mouth to speak. Though, it closed awfully quickly. His first thought was to be rude, even after the wonderful feeling she gave his body. "Thank you, Deacon." The male spoke lightly, almost in a whispered tone. "I guess that is another thing I will need to owe you for." Woo, already being even more in debt. One hundred sovereigns, would be a lifetime before the male could get that sort of money again. "But yes, its good to see you back." The warrior continued after a slight amount of silence, "I appreciate the back rub, tremendously. I shall work extra hard when my ribs are completely healed to get you your money back." A light laugh passing, "Even if I must be up hookers to get some of my money started." Shaking his head lightly, ah, that was simply a joke. The male would never hit a woman, let alone one who already has enough problems on their hands.

"Mind doing me a favor?" The male asked, opening his eyes for a moment. "Cloud is playing with a dwarven child, I wanted you to see if you can find her. She's yet to take her medicine, I would like her to get much better before completely forgetting about it. Mind finding her and ask her to take it? Force her if you must, better for her to get completely better then fall back to where she was." The male planned to sit in the tub for a bit longer before dressing, then moving his ass back to the bed and passing out.
 


  • At Rage's behest, the amazonian woman departed, trekking down the shimmer corridors in Lord Harrowmont's chamber. She was pleased to not be subjected to the city's politics (she was extremely well-read in the subject of politics but preferred to avoid them at all costs because she deemed them pure evil) despite having accepted Harrowmont's aid and housing with him until Rage was entirely healed. While searching for Cloud, she was able to further reflect on her decisions; what to do in the future, where she was to go from here,. Ideas flooded to her like a heavy rainstorm, but she wasn't able to set them in a chronological order just yet.

    While exploring the corridors she was given an odd look by several of the maidens who had grown accustomed to Deacon's over the past week or so. They always noted her armor, which was slim yet heavy, and disfigured her magnificent curves. But now, Deacon was defenseless, adorning clothing that fitted her lean frame without even a suggestion that she was wearing armor for protection. The women were astonished, guffawed even, to see that the mage had such a feminine body underneath her layers.

    In the foyer, which was heavily guarded by Harrowmont's most polished lackeys, she found Cloud and a dwarven child frolicking. Instantly Cloud noted Deacon's appearance and veered over to her side, bidding her farewells to the child. Silently Deacon guarded the sickly looking girl, peering down the corridor after her while she, too, explored them. "I'm hungry," Deacon heard the child chant. It was getting fairly late and, as far as Deacon known, Rage and his sister had gone without supper. But, that could wait, at least for now. Deacon had conjured up a plan that could save her time, expecting that Rage wouldn't be so quick to let her disappear.

    When they arrived, Deacon insured the doors was closed. Cloud leaped upon the cot, enthused by the softness of the blankets while Deacon addressed Rage in a cordial yet informal manner. "That mage you seen earlier, the one I was trying to kill," she began, " ... she managed to place a tracking brand on me. They are sigils that allow the inflicters to track victims by following their heartbeats. There are two ways to dispel it, however: to either find a powerful, upperclass mage to disperse it, or to stop my heart beat entirely."

    She paused for a moment, running her hands over her pert cheekbones and flattening her hair against her skull. "Stopping my heart is out of the question, dangerous and if anything, fatal. In order to successfully insure it's dispersion, I need to visit the Fereldan Circle Tower. I know someone that may be willing to help." Yet another lapse of silence. "I've already mulled over your injures, which would be a terrible hindrance - I can heal you, almost entirely in one night, but it's a tedious and painful process. It will take away much of both my mana and stamina and I'll pretty much be unconscious for virtually 12 hours." [/list:u]
 
The warrior had dipped in and out of sleep after withdrawing himself from the tub, clothing himself after. Taking in a deep breath, the male noted the small figure push through the doors followed by Deacon's. Watching Cloud move to the cot, cuddle up with the blanket. A light smile passing on the face of the male, quickly fading when he noted the doors to their chambers closing. As soon as the girl start speaking, the warrior's brow cocked in interest. Where exactly was this topic going to go?

The male kept himself quiet, light yawns here and there as he paid full attention to the mage. "Hrm," Rage spoke, hand moving to his chin, rubbing lightly. So, pretty much, Deacon was now wanted by Templars to take her back to the Circle Tower in Ferelden .. yet, to remove this bran, she needs to go to the Circle tower? Now, the thing that really irked him is that .. she had this sort of spell that could completely heal him yet leave her vulnerable for twelve hours and she is bring it up NOW!? Three weeks into his healing process? Awesome, completely awesome. The male could have been able to walk around without aid, without bandages and she could have had already gone through this process before now? Shaking his head lightly, "Well, for one, you aren't even leaving to go to the Circle Tower without me." Rage spoke, pushing himself up in the bed. "Two, this process that will leave you in a sleep sate for twelve hours. How long will it take for you to be able to use it? Is there some sort of thing you may need to do before it?" The warrior asked, some what curiously. "I want this to happen immediately, then as soon as you wake after your sleep, we can get a move on."

Rage nodded, looking over to the girl. "Of course, we'd be leaving after everyone was well fed and had slept. Surely not going to go to the Circle Tower with an apostate and not be completely full on stamina." Stretching lightly, his hands moving to the light bandage he managed to wrap, loosely, around his ribs. "So, get this thing started. Then we can get moving on our journey, I'm tired of being bed-ridden anyways." Rage grunted lightly, a light smile on his face. Excited to not have to deal with his injury and all that fun stuff that goes with it. Pain medicine, medicine in general. Bed rest, the constant trying to keep his weight off of it. It grew tiresome, quickly.
 


  • As Deacon mentioned, the healing process was taxing. After everyone - including herself - had eaten a hearty meal, she asked Rage if Cloud could sleep in another chamber that night so Deacon's spell would go undisturbed. She laid the afflicted man down on their bed, commanding that he lay completely still and let himself fall into a deep slumber. She gently anchored her hands over his chest, wary of the healing bones, then closed her eyes. A burning warmth erupted from her core and flooded into her hands; her fingertips itched with a desirable heat, though she did her best to subdue overwhelming amounts of it.

    For virtually eight hours she knelt their, offering him her life; her essence, until her body could no longer sacrifice anymore. Her stamina withered away to absolutely nothing. While healing him, she lost her consciousness and slumped down next the dormant warrior. Her heart slowed but did not stop just as her body struggled to regrow its lost stamina.

    A groan suddenly left her full lips. Futilely, she flopped over, stricken by a lack of body heat which she was warmed with during her slumber. Even now as her rest was disturbed she felt a sensation, as if something was welling up inside of her, replenishing her share energy. Deacon was not fond of the synergy spell - a spell which, with the aid of a powerful entropic magic, was able to share her own physical wellness with another. It was a vexing process which siphoned all of her mana and stamina, but shortly thereafter it returned.

    Though groggy, she managed to collect her belongings, wary that Rage may have already discussed Cloud's new sleeping arrangements with the dwarven maidens housed by Harrowmont. She ambled into the bathing chamber and splashed stagnant, room-temperature water onto her face then heaved a sickening groan. Her stomach griped for sustenance but for now, she would have to deny it such. Bells run in her head and, suddenly, a knock at the door. "Miss Deacon! Warrior!" she cried. Deacon peeled open the door, rubbing her eyes. "There are templars here looking for you! Quick! You must follow me, I can show you a safe way out. Come!"[/list:u]
 
"Ahhhh!" Rage exclaimed as he stepped out of the door, Deacon had still be passed out. The male made sure to chase Zander off before he could get his grimy little mits on a completely defenseless Deacon. Knowing him, he'd take the opportunity to try to bed Deacon ... awake or not. The male was obsessed with her, so, it wouldn't fall past him if he knew she would be alone for a few hours. Taking in a deep breath, the male's face had a wide grin on it. His body felt amazing! His side a bit tender, but ribs were completely fine. Like a gust of second wind coursed through him, completely clearing up any injuries or stiff spots on the male's fatigued body.

Currently, Rage was on his way to speak with the representative of the Harrowmont House. Plans to ask if they would house his little sister a few more days while she recovered from the remaining illness in her body, that, and to simply babysit her while Deacon, Zander and him go to the Circle Tower. It would be something too dangerous to bring a little girl to. Most likely there was to be a fight, since .. Deacon is an Apostate, she won't be a person who is welcomed with 'open arms'.

Stretching his arms above his head, the male had successfully bought Cloud another two weeks here. Sure, it wouldn't be that long but he needed to make sure they would watch over her. Good news, too! He did it without threats of burning their whole place down, killing everyone on the inside. And who said he couldn't be a gentle, kind person? Shaking his head lightly, the male smile still rested on his face. Hands pressing against the back of his head as his elbows were propped up in the air. Moving up the stairs, the plea for the warrior and Deacon rang through the halls. Quickly his little prance turned into a full on sprint toward the room. Sliding to a halt as he reached the door, just able to hear the end of it. "Templars?! Already!?" The male exclaimed, moving past the dwarven female - practically jumping over the short being. Grabbing his stuff, the male quickly strapped his sword to the back, turning to look at Deacon. Giving her a nod, eyes turning to look at Zander who strolled in leisurely. "Zander!"

The shout of his name made the poor elf jump back, "What! I didn't do anything, I swear!" The male pleaded.
"No! No! Templars are here after Deacon, we need to go! This dwarf is showing us a way out! Get your shit and lets go!" Rage spoke, his demeanor in more of a .. friendly tone rather then hostile and crazy. Something that caught the poor Elf off guard.
Zander's eyes turned to the mage, "I'm sorry but I cannot go. I should stay here."

Gritting his teeth lightly, Rage looked to Deacon, "We have no time to convince cowardice out of Zander, we need to move."
 


    • A frantic Deacon sought after her belongings - specifically her armor, staff and satchel - fixing the light protective gear to her body in easily less then two minutes. The female dwarf had been kind enough to bring her a cloak, originally meant to be a token of their gratitude but had not been finished being tailored. Despite that taxing hindrance, she believed Deacon would have need of it for now. The woman draped the shawl over her shoulders, pulling up the hood of her mane before chiding Rage.

      "Quiet!" she commanded, "This is no longer an instance where you can shout and cry as you please. I require that you practice nonchalance; outbursts, vehemence ... this will get me caught and you killed." She strapped her satchel to her backside as perusual, adjusting the strap when Zander announced that he refused to go with them to the tower. This did not surprise Deacon. It was a prison; a cursed place, often depicting a lonely and very solitary aura. Rather then give him piece of mind she trekked off, silently following behind the maiden.

      "This way! Quickly!" she uttered softly. At the end of the hallway was a room, seemingly empty, save for a few chests and a massive rune that seemed to have belonged to the Shaperate once upon a time. The tiny woman displayed brute strength by moving the ruin on her lonesome, revealing a tiny door which lead into some of the underground tunnels surrounding Orzammar. "This way. Keep traveling straight until you come to the underground lake; there is a boat there in which you can use to cross it. From there take a right - it will lead you to the surface. Now go! Hurry!"[/list:u][/list:u]
 
The tunnel that led to the surface was a little ... shorter then the female dwarf mention. Rather, forgot to mention. Since Zander was staying in Orzammar, Rage told him to look after his sister, shortly after being chided - like usual - by Deacon. Rage trusted most dwarves as far as he could throw them, so, it was generally a good idea to leave someone that they knew with the responsibility. Did Rage believe he would regret asking Zander to watch? Oh, by the Maker, yes, he did. Zander handled responsibility like he handled gold, poorly. Same thing could be said about Rage in certain manners, though, when it came to his sister; saying that was complete bullshit. The warrior kept his head down as he followed Deacon through the tunnel, he was not to bark orders and say he would led the way because she'd end up striking him or something. Wasn't the time to be all gun-ho and be the leader, the apostate mage needed to get out, and quickly.

Taking in a short breath, Rage continued to follow the mage through the tunnel, they had taken a left already. Shouldn't be too much longer til they got to the surface. "Deacon," Rage spoke lightly, pausing for a moment, "I've been thinking, mainly about a way to kill two birds with one stone." Pausing for a moment to listen to she if she had any sarcastic retort, "Now, you are an apostate, one who can't simply walk up to the tower and be all friendly like nothing has happened before. So, I was thinking about how to get you in - which I'm sure you have as well - and how to get your gold payment, as well." Taking in a breath, Rage coughed slightly. Inhaled some of the lingering dust that remained in the tunnel. "I was thinking since I'm a brute and have a short temper, we could play a trick on the Templars and Mages at the Circle Tower. Fake like I had captured you, I demand gold in return for your capture and arrival back at the tower, where they can do whatever."

"Now, I'm sure they will disagree at first, so, we're really have to going to play this out; which I'm sure you'll take full enjoyment in," Rage spoke, grunting lightly as he helped push the boulder blocking their exit to the surface. "You're going to have to blast me." Rage spoke simply, he knew it was going to hurt, a lot but, it was a chance he had to take to make sure it looked like he had captured her. "Then when I show you are harming simple 'civilians', they'll take you, give me a reward and a bed. That night, I will break you out of where they put you and we can go about finding someone who can help you." The male spoke, nodding as he stretching his arms above his head. Unstrapping his tunic, the male placed it down on the ground. He would need to be struck either now or never. It would be easily to spot if it was just recently, it was a day or so walk from Orzammar, so, it would be enough time to scab and, or scar. "So, take all that pent up anger, frustration that Zander and I have forced upon you and give me a good one."

The male took several, several steps back. Up close and personally would, well, kill him. At this safe distance of twenty or so yards, he'll just feel really, really fucked up. "Ready when you are." Rage spoke, giving her a nod. Well, ready as he will ever be. Magics .. hurt and he didn't really want to deal with it, but, was for the best, right?
 


    • At last. The outdoors. Deacon felt a refreshing wave wash over her, consumed her mind and body, ebb the singed flesh she received from the heat of the underground haven Orzammar. Her eyes drank in the sight of a light falling snow, each of the delicate, hawking orbs descending towards the earth and dressing the nearby pines in a delicate white blanket. It was unfortunate they were unearthed in the middle of a the forest, and it would be difficult to navigate to its exit, but it would have the lonely pair some time to discuss their plan concerning the Circle Tower.

      When Rage suggested his quite ... well, relatively intelligible plan, she swallowed a sheepish smirk. While this would be a very enlightening game, she feared she may severely injure him if she didn't pick a proper spell. Frost, lightening, fire, earth, arcane ... all could kill him if inflicted properly. She lifted her hands, palms facing towards the skies; they began to shimmer several different shades, from an ardent reddish hue to an electric cerulean. Fire may have been the best to prove that she had damaged him in some manner, so that was what she had chosen.

      "I'm sorry, Rage." Her tone was genuine. The flames grew, brighter, stronger, until they were glowing so bright that they could be seen from the mountain tops. When the spell had matured she released it; the fire ripped through the ground, melting feet upon feet of snow and finding his chest. It devoured the thin layer of flesh over his sternum and eventually died as quickly as it was conjured. She began approaching the man, reaching into her satchel and producing a questionable looking plant. "Chew on this," she offered, "It will dulll the pain and may make you a little dizzy ... but at least the burn won't be too much of a hindrance. When we arrive at the tower, I will heal the burn since it's only minor."[/list:u][/list:u]
 
Rage stumbled back several steps, the blast had hit him directly in the sternum ... and hurt like a son of a bitch, but, he expected this. Holding his ground after stepping back, eyes wincing in pain. Hands clenched, fingers digging into his palms. The pain endured just from that single blast alone, well, in a simple statement. "Holy fucking god damn mother !!! " Rage exclaimed in pain, hands immediately moving to his stomach. "AHH!" He shouted again, removing his hands from his flesh, shaking them. Why did his stomach burn!? Gritting his teeth, the male's jaw muscle clenched, he needed to resist the urge to scream curses into the wilderness, they were being chased and he had asked for it. She really didn't hold back, not at all. Holy hell. By the Maker was his stomach hurt, "I think .. I would go with a broken rib than that .. ever again." So! He would kill all mages, blood mages, apostates first! Anything with a fucking dress, he would kill. Armor folk take too long, people in frail clothing he could cut through like a hot knife going through butter.

Taking in a deep breath, the male continued to inhale and exhale. The mage walking over to hand him something to help with his pain, "Deacon, I'm glad you are on my side." Rage spoke with a nod, "I will honestly think twice before threatening you ... ever again. That, well, you are the first person to make me want to run around holding my stomach bawling my eyes out." The male spoke, nodding, "Now, you keep that between us. A real man admits his feelings .. that really, really fucking hurt. I honestly hope you feel better." The warrior continued, taking the piece of plant. Placing the tip on his lips, the male held it in place before picking up his leather tunic, quickly strapping it onto his torso. A hiss moving past his lips, minor burn? Bullshit, that was like .. 'his whole stomach flesh gone' burn. Removing the plant from his mouth, the male examined it. Eyes wincing in pain, body moving back as if he was dry heaving. "Holy hell .. " The male muttered, shaking his head lightly. Using his right hand to wipe the water forming in his eyes, that fucking hurt! Like immensely! Rage thought his rib hurt from being popped back into place? By the Maker, hell no. That was no little fire ball.

"Alright, now, this plant. I only chew, or is it safe to swallow? Because I don't want another one of those drugs where I have a raging erection, not that it wasn't bad .. I would rather not walk up to the Circle Tower with a hard on, they may lead me to their leader." Laughing lightly, ahhh, church boys. "But yes, I do appreciate the plant, how soon will the flesh on my stomach grow back?" Rage spoke lightly, looking around the forest, "And after you, Deacon, I'm sure you know your way around these parts better then I." It was true, the male and the wild equaled a good four hours walking around in a circle. He wasn't 'terrible' with sense of direction, just not that good.
 


    • Oddly enough, Rage had handled the spell quite well. Others would have been on their knees, screaming to the skies or writhing about on the ground. While he ... wasn't the quietest of victims, he was still standing, and that alone was a sign that his endurance was much more durable then she had previously believed. "Surprisingly, I don't feel better," she replied rather drably, reassuring that her satchel was secured comfortable around her waist, swiftly combing through her inventory. She still had a feasible amount of roots and herbs that would last them their trek to the Circle Tower. There she could restock if she was able to successfully skulk about and access their storage rooms.

      "It's meant to be ingested. Make sure to swallow it entirely." She dismissed Rage's suddenly optimistic antics while examining the sky. The sun was setting ... faster then she had expected, and tonight she knew it would be moonless. They would have no light to guide there way through the forest and onto the main road. They would be left to the discretion of the forest. Admittedly she was pleased he was able to take the situation so lightly and laugh about the horrendous burn he just received. Maybe it was just his body going into shock; who knew for certain.

      "No plant - at least, that I know of - can instantly regrow singed flesh. I'm still very weak from that healing spell and my mana is virtually nonexistent at the moment or else I would heal it now. When we arrive at the tower I'll steal some of their lyrium and heal you then. For now, you'll have to persevere." She gave the man a reassuring grin, something she hadn't shown in quite some time, then began leading him through the forest in an attempt to discover the main road.[/list:u][/list:u]
 
Rage laughed lightly, "Well, hurry up and create a potion that can do that." A light smile gracing his face, eyes still examining the plant as he followed behind her. Times like these, he wish he grabbed a torch. Taking in a deep breath, the male placed the plant into his mouth. Chewing lightly, "Oh, by the Maker .... " The warrior spoke, practically dry heaving as he continued to chomp on the plant. "Why didn't I just swallow it whole ... ? " The male questioned himself out loud, swallowing the balled up substance. "Ick .. ick .. ick .. " The male repeated, shaking his head lightly. "That tasted like .. dwarf bread mixed with their extremely nasty ale. Added with some spoiled milk." Shaking his head lightly, "Very, very unpleasant." The warrior continued, now wishing he had a canteen to wash this nasty taste from his mouth. Why must everything that will help you feel better taste really horrible?

Taking in a deep breath, finally, the bad taste was gone from his mouth .. the only thing he had to deal with now was a relatively hot, dry mouth. Terrible, terrible combination. Water would be amazing, so amazing right now. "Deacon, would you be ever-so kind to share some water that you have? If you have some, of course." Rage was trying to be polite in his slight time of need, his stomach felt somewhat better but not his mouth was just on fire. "I have this really bad burning sensation in my mouth and would like water to wash it down." Well, at least he could hope, of course.

Rage shook his head lightly, it was getting late. The male worked to start the fire while Deacon went off to find a few more plants, or something. "Ah, how Deacon could make this lit faster but still expend her mana, so, it maybe better for me to do this." Rage spoke to himself, clinking the two rocks together. Trying to make a spark that would lite the dried grass on fire, which then would start the dried twigs on fire, which would get the logs. A light sigh passing, the male slammed the rocks together several more times. Watching the sparks quickly lite the dried grass on fire. Grabbing the stick beside him, the male poked and prodded the flame, stirring it around the logs. At least he got it started, that was good. Unstrapping his leather tunic, the male lifted the part over his stomach. Wincing a bit as the fabric was stuck to his flesh, groaning lightly. "Shit .. should've put a bandage on it or something ... maybe Deacon has some."
 


    • "Eat the snow." She realized her tone was slightly emotionless, but that's how she felt - emotionless. Her body was flimsy and fatigued, vulnerable if anything, and here Rage was, babbling on like a child. As the sun began to set and the darkness crept in, Deacon realized they could go no further without being subjected to the dangers of the forest. She pressed her full lips in a hard line, sorting through the dense darkness until she found a feasibly placed copse of bushes. They would provide a decent cover for the time being.

      She hobbled over and inspected them with her hands, dusting off excess snow; inside the ringlet was fresh, untouched grass, thanks to the cover of the low-riding trees which had shielded the plants from the elements. She was relieved and knelt down on the ground, pleased by the soft bedding supplied by the foliage. It was there she undid her satchel, resting it near the tree's folds, wrapping her cloak securely around her body.

      Because her body was so weak, she was not able to generate heat so easily. When Rage erected the fire, she flocked to it, catching the last portion of his statement. "Don't p-put anything on it," she trembled. At that very instant she threw her arms around his back, pressing her chest to it, craving the warmth that his body emitted. "Fuck ... it's freezing. Do you .. mind laying down with me? Near the fire."[/list:u][/list:u]
 
Odd, why shouldn't he put anything on it? His tunic was sticking to his stomach, so, shouldn't he? Shaking his head lightly, "You are the doctor." Rage spoke in reply, feeling the girl press against him. Eyes going wide, what in the world? Ah, fire, heat. Gotcha. She was cold, understandable. Rage nodded lightly, poking and prodding the fire a bit more. It was a bit nippy out, could be worse. The cool air felt good on his burn, dropping the stick into the fire. Rage unwrapped her arms from around him, standing up only to sidestep over her. "Scoot." The male said simply, she could sleep near the fire. Rage wanted the cool air on his stomach, removing his tunic from his body, the male laid on his side. Closing his eyes as he rolled up the tunic, using it as a pillow. There was no need for good night, she'd sleep when she wanted to. The warrior was tired now.

The morning rolled by quickly, Rage stirring to the girl's arm wrapped slightly over his form. Shaking it off lightly, using it to wake the slumbering mage as well. The fire long died out by now, sitting up slowly, Rage looked down to his stomach. The would-be black spot now a heavy gray, a good enough mark to show she had been attacking others. Hell, he could blame her for his village, too. If they needed it, of course. Inhaling slowly, the warrior shook his head several times. They had an act to sell, they needed to focus on that, nothing else. Pushing himself up from the ground, hand moving to his tunic. Quickly covering himself with the fabric, Rage strapped it tight to his body, wincing slightly as it pressed into his stomach. They wouldn't give each other a 'good morning', couldn't. No time. They needed to move if they planned to get to the tower before night.

The two walked for nearly seven hours, they had reached the small tavern just across from the Circle Tower. "Just about at Lake Calenhad, Deacon." The male spoke, their trip had been extremely quiet. Rage focused on being a bit rude, arrogant toward the Templars. Turning to face the mage, face showing no facial expression. If he was to show anything, it would be relatively bad for them. He'd fail on his part of the deal, then they'd be screwed. Moving behind the girl, watching her already move her hands behind her back, Rage tied the rope-esque item around her wrists. Well knowing that if she wanted to get out, she could .. with ease. Placing his hand on her shoulder, the male pushed lightly forcing her to start walking. Taking in a deep breath, Rage guided her down the small hill that led to the Tavern or to the dock to get over to the Circle Tower. Walking the mage forward, Rage moved in front of the girl, guiding her to the dock.

"Halt. By order of the Chantry, we are not allowed to let anyone across." The templar spoke sternly.
"Not even for an apostate mage?" Rage shoot back quickly, pointing over his back to the girl. "I caught her just outside the Brecilian Forest. Gave me quite the good fight, too. Thankfully, she was bare on stamina or I surely would have been a goner."
"Apostate mage, hm, I would consider that an exception. Go, quickly."

Rage helped Deacon to the boat, picking up the Oar. "No, Templar, we are fine. I don't wish for you to drown because this one decided to knock you into the water." Placing the oar into the water as the Templar heeded the warning given to him by Rage, the male used his foot to kick off the dock. Slowly paddling the oar through the water, "Well, Deacon, I hope you have a plan. I will break you out sometime tonight, as soon as I know they are all asleep .. or most of them. Do you wish for me to get word to someone?"

Tying the boat to the dock, Rage helped the girl up once more. At long last, the Circle Tower. Here they'd get what they came for or die trying. Either was perfectly fine with the male. Leading her up through the tower's doors, the male quickly brought her before the Templar Commander, Knight-Commander Greagoir.

"Well, well, look at this, if it isn't over favorite apostate mage, Deacon. Caught once more, are we?" Greagoir spoke, tauntingly. "You ... Warrior ... who might you be? What are you doing with such an apostate such as this?"
Crossing his arms over his chest, "From the way I see it, your tone should be a lot more thankful, Templar." Rage spoke in return, "I brought you this 'apostate' and I seek payment and a bed to sleep in for the night." The warrior quickly barked, noticing a quickly angered Templar staring at him. A cocky smirk developing on the male's face.
"Oh? So, you think I will just let any rift-rash come in here to bark orders? This apostate is only wanted for breaking her phylactery. Why should I pay you for doing a job that a Templar would've gotten to?" Greagoir spoke in reply, clearly agitated by the warrior.

Grinning lightly, "Well, just so happens to be that this apostate," rocking his head once in Deacon's direction, "Was attacking helpless civilians as they traveled down the road past the Brecilian Forest." Pausing for a moment, Rage slowly undid his straps to his tunic, pulling it up over his stomach to show them his burn. "For proof, she caught me in the gut when I wasn't looking, burned like hell for the trip up here."
 


    • "Asher Fern. Find first enchanter Asher Fern; tell him what's happened, why I'm searching for him. Please don't fuck this up, Rage. I'm really counting on you."

      This entire ordeal worried even Deacon. She was ware of the consequences of failing and they were far to great to even fathom. Knight-Commander Greagoir was wary around her, knowing just how dangerous she was. While he did question her mellowness, he was more pleased to see that she was here in his custody. "Well, I commend you for your efforts, warrior. I suppose the least we can do is offer you a bed. Guards! Please escort this man to the rooming quarters. There is a guest room where you may rest, but please, do not disturb the mages and their training on the floor below. We do not want any unfortunate incidents, or for your burn to somehow mircaulously grow larger then it already is."

      Meanwhile, Ammon was giving Greagoir a menacing glare. Her eyes were hard; stony, as she let them bore through his visage. "As for you, well ... not much to be said, now, is there? I will send for the Rivain templars in the morning. They will come in a week or so to retrive you and escort you back to their tower where they will handle your punishment. Dangerous magi such as yourself should be beheaded as far as I am concerned, however, you are not property of Ferelden, but in fact Rivain, so it is not my place to say, now, is it?" He smirked a smug smirk and turned, giving a reassuring glance to the warrior, Rage. "Make sure this man is also given a warm meal for his efforts. As for you, Banshee ... "

      He motioned for the other templars to follow him, towards a large chamber that held a massive, oak door with a hefty amount of stairs careening down through the stone floor. "We were all told that if you were to be captured you were to be given leisurely quarters, however ... we cannot afford to have you escaping again, so, other more drastic measures have been taken." He ordered one of the mages to open the door with a mildly powerful spell, then continued down the long, dank corridor until they came to yet another large chamber. Deacon's cell was presented before, a dingy looking prison at that, one she knew she would not enjoy.

      The templars shoved her in and slammed the enormous stone door behind her; she felt a buzzing fill her head and a similar shade of electric blue seep through the door's cracks. Magic, no doubt, a spell that one of the senior enchanters created just for an ocassion such as this. She wasn't expecting that, as personally created spells were not easily dispelled as there was not information sermoned on them. She groaned, pacing around in the quite drab room - there was the traditional prison furnishings, even a bed, but it looked particularly lumpy. As she laid on it she stared up at the ceiling, ... Rage, please ... please don't screw this up. [/list:u][/list:u]
 
Aster Fern. Aster Fern. Aster Fern.

Rage continued to repeat the name in his head as the Templar showed him to his room for the night. This whole thing rested on him, all the pressure to make sure things went correctly. The male knew exactly what he was supposed to do, find this male with the funky name and get inform him that Deacon needs to his help to remove the brand that one Mage put on her. One that would essential free her from being tracked, once again, by Templars. So long as they didn't take her phylactery again, which then .. she'd have to do more then just find this soon to be 'First Enchanter'. Shaking his head lightly, the male's eyes shot through the rooms. Males and females in separate rooms, some .. of the girls were relatively cute. Though, they'd scorch his ass before he could even think about turning away if he made a move on them. All were most likely stuck-up prissy mages if they were still in the Circle tower.

"In here, Warrior." The Templar spoke with a dull tone of voice, eyes glaring at the Warrior as he walked into the room given to him.

"Thank you, I appreciate your hospitality. I do wish you a-" Before the Warrior could finish, the Templar pulled the door shut on him. Shaking his head lightly, "Asshole." The male muttered lightly, pulling out the sheet of paper that Deacon handed him before he placed the 'rope' on her wrists. The male didn't read it because he assumed it was something of a reminder, a nagging reminder on a piece of paper. Quickly unfolding the paper, the male was horribly wrong on his assumption. "Ah, Deacon, how I think you believe I am completely retarded at times." The male spoke, shaking his head lightly. It was a map of the Circle Tower, listing each floor as accordingly. An 'X' on what floor Aster should be on, the male assumed this .. and over-heard conversation. For a Warrior, he was a brute, yes .. but, he did have some subtle qualities to his person.


Oh, how the trip to find this fucking mage was filled with distractions, warnings and almost bloodshed. Rage found the mage up in the library, how .. well, he didn't know. He was wandering through, acting as if he was looking for a book to read for the night. A female asked, 'Aster, who is that strange man in our library?' From there, well, it was odd. Deacon forgot to tell him that this mage was skittish as all hell. Rage was mean looking, yes but, that didn't mean he was going to kill anyone and everyone! So, what should have been a polite conversation turned into him yelling for Templars screaming .. "A mad man is after me! A mad man is after me!" They rushed to see the commotion, noticed Rage and well, from there it was weird. Rage explained that he was looking for a book then heard the young woman ask Aster who he was. So, pretty much, Aster is now his cousin from his mother's brother's wife. It sucked, and the Templars didn't believe him but let him go. From there, he explained that Aster needed to help out Deacon with getting her out of her prison and removing the brand.

"Fun, fun. You just work your magic, Fern ... I am going to stand guard." Rage spoke as he moved to the wall, pressing his form against it as he watched down the dark hall. It was late, perfect time for them to break out Deacon and get a move on. Lets just hope everything was ready on her end.
 


    • As Asher opened the door to Deacon's cell - which was a confined, cinderblock room - he was taken aback by the overwhelming presence which flooded outward. It reminded him of lyrium and how it caused these ebbing, almost vertigo effects. He paused for an instant and realized it was precisely like lyrium. She had allowed her mana pool to disperse and permeate the chamber which resulted in a mist-like effect. Mages often did this to increase the potency, but, it took unspeakable skill and unheard of concentration.

      "Deacon?" Asher beckoned. In an instant the mist visibly seeped back in to its master through her pores and Deacon, who was sitting cross-legged on the bare floor, opened her eyes wide. "Where did you learn to do that?" Deacon seemed guffawed at the senior enchanter's inquiry. "I didn't. I've always been capable of mana concentration, Asher. You know this; I'm confused as to why this baffles you." Asher ran a hand through his fiery red mane, attempting to recall past memories but realized there was no time for reminiscing. "Enough chit-chat. Your warrior friend has told me everything there is to know. I can dispel the brand but ... escaping the tower will be your own doing."

      He advanced, giving Rage the once over then addressed his former student. His eyes probed her shoulders then slithered down her back. He approached her from behind and lifted up her top, his eyes tracing the outline of the glowing sigil. The face he made was needless to say, not a pleased one. "Who was it that gave you this brand?" he questioned rather seriously. There was an outdated lapse of silence before Deacon lazily replied. "Belladonna."

      "The Orlesian shapeshifter? She's gone apostate? That's ... that's impossible. There's no way she can wield such power; in fact, I'm fairly sure she doesn't even have enough mana to conjure this sigil let alone make it tangible. Only first enchanters know this spell while only they and senior enchants are taught to dispel it. It is also extremely reprimanding ... it demands a sacrifice of blood so she is likely off somewhere suffering."

      Deacon scoffed irately while pressing her back into Asher's fingers. "Just ... take it off. I'm too tired for these speculations nor do I particularly take interest in them." Asher chuckled. With a mere wave of his hand the brand disappeared leaving no evidence of its presence. Pleased with Asher's kindness Deacon offered him a thankful grin and proceeded towards the door. "We'll be staying here for the night," she commanded. Asher's jaw fell ajar.

      "I beg your pardon?"

      "We're staying here. We need to restock and there's a grimoire on the top floor in Irving's quarters that he keeps hidden; he believes no one knows of its whereabouts but I do. He has it hidden for a reason ... and I want it."

      "Deacon, are you mad? You cannot stay here, you're better off outside with the wolves!"

      "Come now, Asher, do you really believe we'll be caught? There's a hidden chamber in the magi quarters which is used for storing smuggled lyrium from Orzammar. The man who built it has since been dead and the others have never discovered it, or the "secret" lyrium stash. We'll rest there for the night and be gone by the morning. All you need to do is get some rest and dream about the rest of your monotonous, abstinent life." [/list:u][/list:u]
 
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