Dragon Age Campaign
Human Circle Mage
Mage Level 3
21 yrs old male
- Communication +2
- Constitution +1
- Cunning +0 (Arcane Lore, Religious Lore)
- Dexterity +1
- Magic +4 (Primal)
- Perception +2 (Seeing)
- Strength +0
- Willpower +2
- Speed 11
- Defense 11
- Armor 3 (Light Leather)
- Health 30
- Mana 37 (Drain 1)
- Quarter Staff +1, 1d6+1 dmg
- Dagger -1, 1d6+1 dmg
- Arcane Lance +Magic, 1d6+Magic dmg, 16 yards
Class Powers & Spells:
- Arcane Lance
- Magic Training
- Weapon skills: Brawling, Staves
- Linguistics (Novice)
- Primal Magic (Novice)
- Languages: Elven, Trade Tongue, Ancient Tevinter
- Flame Blast: Primal, 3 mana, Major Action, TN 12, Dex (Acrobatics) test, Blast, 2d6+1 dmg / 1d6+1, 8×2 yards
- Heal: Creation, 1-3 mana, Major Action, TN 10, 1d6 Health/mana, touch
- Winter’s Grasp: Primal, 3 mana, Major Action, TN 12, Constitution (Stamina) test, one target, Magic rounds, 1d6 penetrating dmg, test to end, -2 speed
- Shock: Primal, 4 mana, Major Action, TN 13, Constitution (Stamina) test, 6×6 yards, 1d6+Magic / 1d6 penetrating dmg
Young Dorian was born in the western parts of the Bannorn, near the shores of Lake Calenhad. His home was a small house in a peaceful village near a forest, with a happy family of five, under an old and wise bann. But the demon hides in the details, as the wise men say.
The family was deep-rooted in the village of Falarin, hard working men and women for generations, and with Dorian’s father becoming the spokesman for the village, they prospered. His father was a blacksmith, his only brother, Ronnall was set to follow in the father’s footsteps, providing the farmers tools for their trade.
Dorian was around the age of four, when the first cracks appeared. The bann was attacked and killed on the road by bandits, rumoured to be in the service of an orlesian noble, taking revenge. The choosing of a new bann didn’t go smoothly. The long debate among the villages, and the drought of the summer brought the village to it’s knees. People became sour, food became scarce and the cattle were too few for traders to visit Falarin. But they endured, and after a long winter, Dorian’s sister, Dahlia, was born.
Endurance was always a quality of his family. They never served as soldiers, but possessed instead the stamina and bull-headed determination of simple folk, and they passed on this attitude to Dorian. He lived a sheltered life, often playing in the woods, and he never looked at hard work as punishment. It was life, the only way he could imagine.
With the years passing, Dorian grew, and his siblings grew, until one day, his brother burned down a barn. They couldn’t figure out how the fire started, and it took months for the powers to manifest again, and then it became clear, that Ronnall has the talents of a mage, and poses a danger to the village. Templars came for the child, and the child ran. Dorian’s father couldn’t let go, he resisted and he was completely broken when he heard that the templars found Ronnall in the next village, and the boy died. They claimed it was an accident during capture. This was the first blow, from which the family could never recover.
When a few years later, Dorian’s “talent” became apparent, the templars came again. He didn’t resist, and this time, his father didn’t resist. Dorian froze in fear, of himself and his future, and left his parents and sister willingly, along with a simpler, happier life.
In the darknesss, there was only silence, except for the sound of the wind passing through a great forest, somewhere in the distance. Even heartbeats ceased. Minutes passed, or maybe hours, it was hard to guess, but the wind was getting stronger, and definitely closer. After a while, the sound of leaves passing each other, hissing through the branches, and the branches creaking built a world, a world full of ancient trees under siege by an unnatural force of wind, that slowly grew flom a breeze to a storm that could bring down a small town. There were no light, no shapes, just the sounds, and the sounds told the story of a giant tree giving up under the pressure, breaking, and falling to the ground with a loud thud, that suddenly brought back the silence. The wind ceased, and the world was dead again. Apart from a faint noise somewhere… chewing?
Dorian opened his eyes. He saw Sheila and Pratt sitting in from of him, still in meditation, and saw the others, some of them looking around like himself, trying to ascertain the world they are in. The master was walking around in the barely-lit room, his bare feet touching the floor soundlessly. Dorian feared Master Dier from the moment he saw him. He always looked like he was smiling, except when he spoke, and he mostly spoke of death, demons and the dangers of the world. Some said he came from Tevinter or Antiva, and that he wasn’t really a teacher, just a great mage who happened to settle here in the Tower. As the last student opened his eyes, he started speaking.
“As you already know, this world has a shadow. Or, as some say, our world is a shadow. Beyond our world lies the Fade, the building material the Creator used for our world. And the spirits of the Fade use our dreams as building material for their kingdoms. Sometimes, mages see glimpses of this world beyond the Veil.” All the students sit in silence as he walked around. One of the candles hissed and went out. Was it really… four hours?
“You all were born with a gift. You can sense the Fade, you can tap into it, and use its power for whatever you want. You must know that it comes with a price, as you were also born with a curse. The spirits of the Fade can sense you, they can tap into you, and use your power for whatever they want.” He stopped near Pratt and looked at him, but continued to speak to the class. “Some of you have the will, and will learn to control them, deny them access to our fragile world. Some of you won’t.” Pratt was already sweating. He feared Master Dier too, and the Master seemed to pick on him quite often. What can you do at the age of fourteen, locked away with people of power for the next ten years of your life?
They had their dorms they shared with about a dozen students, they got regular meals, they had classes every day since the day of their arrival. They weren’t allowed to move freely in the halls, they never left the tower, and the templars were everywhere, looking at them silently in their great armours. The enchanters taught them to read, write, speak properly, spoke to them about old wars and distant cities. For some of the children, it wasn’t new. For some, it was hell. And again, for some like Dorian, it became exciting over the years. The memories of the village and the parents always stayed as a deep wound, but slowly started to fade away. And, as deep wounds always do, it changed people.
“The one thing you must recognize, is that you are all alone. You are in control. When you look for power from the Fade, when the demon comes to fight for your body, when something goes wrong, nobody can or will help you. You either fall, or you stay in control.” Master Dier looked around in the room with bright, cold blue eyes. “If you are not strong enough, you will fall, not today, not the day after that, but you will fall eventually. That is not acceptable. You will become a danger. A warrior can call other warriors, craftsmen can work together, mages can help each other with research, or in a battle. But the demon will always find you alone, at your weakest. Thus, you must learn to stay in control on your own.”
They said meditation calms the mind and the body, but after sitting for hours, Dorian’s body responded to the slightest movement with searing pain. He cleared his throat in the silence.
“But Master… If we are all alone, here, in the Tower… and not yet in control, or maybe never be in control… why can’t anyone help us? Why are the templars here? Isn’t their job to keep us safe while we learn?”
Master Dier answered with one of those smiles that were both calming and disconcerting. “They are not here to keep you safe. They are here to keep the others safe.”