Random thoughts about a Blood Mage

Diary of a children without parents.

My name is Isaru, the Sorcerer. I'm no fancy hero or Grey Warden, my interests lies shorter than saving the world from the blight. Oh, how rude. Let me tell a little of myself and you will understand more of my cause.
I'm a bastard. I was born from Tereza and Algustin, a mage and a templar. Their relationship could be more accurately described as a prostitute and a sorry addict. My father was also a bastard, literally and in other more subtle aspects. My mother was a whore as well as a mage of the Circle of Ferelden. The Headmaster and the Knight-Commander Templar were both younger and thought her love real and my father's... enthusiasm towards her a true feeling of the heart.
As you can see I was allowed to be brought into this world, against thousands of odds. Lyriun poisoning should had made Algustin sterile and senile, but it miraculously didn't. He had a strange affinity to the thing, as did my dear mother. Besides the poisoning that ran deep in the blood of my family there was also the matter of my conception.
Of course, nothing is as easy as unconcerned sex and whatever was the reason that drove the universe into pairing the two imbeciles that were to be my parents, I guarantee that that is a joke the universe shares with no one else. You'd expect that any mongrel could easily fathom that banging your dealer in the stockroom isn't as safe as it sounds, and wearing your armor will not make things better. I am the result. I should know.
Everyone feels regret, few are born from it. The stupid couple didn't planned for a child to come from that little intimacy, but I never really cared that much for planning myself ahead of others so I came nine months latter anyway.
At my very first breath both my parents pleaded to kill me, but the Headmaster wouldn't allow murder to happen within the halls. He and the Commander Templar tried the baby for magical aptitude and in case it couldn't become a mage it would be turned into a tranquil. The experiment thrilled him, the old bastard. But I scored marvelously, even too much I dare to say. My blood was specialized at resisting the effects of Lyriun and even at a young age I had a knack for the gift.
Stupidities aside, I had an ultimate luck to be born inside the Circle of Magi. My hunger for everything arcane knew no bounds and I could bounce from one book to another faster than you'd take to read the tittle. I'm no genius however. I had to count with the will of a demigod to protect me from my second heritable defect; stupidity. It wasn't easy, but a dumb person can become smarter if he really wishes to. Wishing was also what I did best.
That way it was inevitable that I'd be done reading the apprentice's library in few years of life and sooner than later I took my Horrowing. Now that's a tale to tell. It was midnight of my birthday many years ago. I had achieved adulthood the same day...

The topside of the mage's tower was dark cold. Shadows dancing at the light of liquid Lyriun, the very essence of mana and a gateway to the Fade. As of custom the apprentice stood besides the Lyriun and a group of Templars, mage hunters, took place at arm's reach, at the smallest sight of danger they'd be given the order to strike down the young one. A grim perspective and yet widely accepted between senior Mages and Enchanters because the other alternative could be the release of an abomination.
-An abomination is a mage possessed by a demon of the fade. Extremely dangerous and mad, the creature can use arcane powers of his former life augmented by the demonic will controlling it's body to wrack magical havoc whenever it goes. -The first enchanter was briefing the meaning of the ritual to the young pupil, who in place was scared of failure, death or worse.
-That's why there are so many Templars today. To watch over you and guarantee you do not fail, young apprentice. -There was something truly vicious about the knight-commander's voice and the apprentice was not shocked at the sight of the Templar's hatred for mages. It was commonplace among the Circle of Magi. Nonetheless, his words were mostly lies.
Any five years old understood the relationship between the Templar and the Circle and wasn't any secret that that particular student had his back watched ten times fold. Many had argued with the first enchanter to make the boy tranquil, even some within the Circle, but Dariano had his purposes for the mage in training and today was the day he'd prove himself.
The boy, Isaoru, gave brief nod to the headmaster and marched towards the Lyriun. He never touched the thing before, “too dangerous” they'd say, even refined Lyriun was out of his reach. The feeling the young apprentice had at the exact moment his hand sank in the silver bowel is impossible to describe in words. Overall sensation of pleasure, a mixture of hunger and rage and a deepest sensation of the most unforgiving pride.


Ears exploded at the sound of the tearing Veil. A Templar started crying and another desperately wanted to claw his way off of his own armor. Madness sank deep into the other mages and they mutated, twisted as their flesh became abhorrent and their head shattered like fine crystal.
The headmaster was the first to rally a counterattack with two of the remaining mages. They fought bravely against the demonic influence of the Fade, trying to seal the Veil once more without any hope of success.
The knight-commander and most of the Templar didn't perish at the first weave and quickly formed positions to fight back the upcoming invasion of demons and abominations. Their tactical expertise was flawless and ruthless, with alacrity they formed a perimeter around the mages and began to push back. In mere moments there were no demons to see and the chamber was sealed away.
After a break to regain their breath, Templar and Circle Mages began to voice their ideas. Two in special, the Enchanter Edmond and the knight-commander Edmond, were making a ruckus of it.
-Dariann! You can't possibly think of using the Rite of Annulment on the entire Circle Tower!
-I have all the right to do so, Edmond! That wasn't an isolated incident, the Veil is broken wide open and demons could swarm the tower at any moment!
-You fool! The Veil will not seal without the use of powerful magic! We must gather-
-Enough! -Cried the headmaster with a thundering voice that boomed over all others. -We can't destroy the Circle Tower, it would just make things worse. Right now our first priority is to reform our most powerful wards and hope for the best. If we fail I will be counting on you to slay me, my friend.
Dariann gave a slight nod to the headmaster and began to rally every Mage and Templar remaining.

It wasn't night like before. There was clearly a sun over his head or was it a moon? Too bright for day or too dark for night. Should it be the other way around?
Isaoru head was spinning and his body was liquid pain. He remembered a tower, a demon and blood, oh so much blood...
His fingers touched, in fact, the bloodied face of a mutilated Templar at that moment and with a loud cry he pried his hands away. Fear began to strike his bones and head, full




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Presentation: On Blood Magic

“Power is somewhat inconspicuous, very hard to hold with material hands. Few can claim they hold true power and only by mind they are able to do so.”
The powerful mind is willful and its desire is able to change the shape of reality to a minimal extent. It's that same willpower that link mortals and demons together and beyond the Veil of the Fade. Unaware of this fact an unsupervised gifted children could create fiery chaos just wishing for a warmer night, thus the need for the circle and the fear of Apostates.

In the sight of adversity only a mage is able to devise the most terrible and brilliant alternatives the world can ever witness. I once heard of a man, a Grey Warden named Avernus, that devised a way to empower himself against demons using tainted blood and Blood Magic. I heard histories of forgotten warriors inside inescapable soul-prisons and humans turning human lives into raw magic to enter the fade. Can you imagine? Just like in the older Tevinter Empire when man touched god.

Do I use Blood Magic? I do. I love it, actually. Vicious entropic art that manipulates mind, body and soul to create, recreate and claim others creations. Beautiful.
Of course there is more to it than just my twisted taste for power, it is also the key for my survival. I was born with a strange and supernatural disease alongside my magical gift. My body produces non-lethal small amounts of raw Lyriun and if unused I will die of poisoning, but since its diluted on my body I have no choice but to drain drops of my own blood to sustain my magical powers. And it hurts likes bugs crawling inside my skin. My research into Blood Magic allows me to control a part of myself and use it more wisely to extend my already shortened life-spam.

Frowning at the uncharismatic smell of sewer and poverty he couldn't hope but to get away from that place as quick as possible. Going back into civilization had always been hard to Alecto. The road had always presented some difficulties but none he couldn't manage himself around with a trick or two. In Deneri he hadn't all that skill at hand, to work on that many at once was dangerous.
He paced quickly to get away from the street and came inside the first establishment on sight's range.

There's a place called Fade which house dreams and wishes and where everything is possible. Inside that chaotic realm lies the birthplace of magical insight, spirits and feelings and the city of our Maker and creator of everything. The same city that cursed creation with numberless Darkspawn.

The call inside his body was strong again, pulling away from his heart and painfully stretching every blood vessel from his head to his toes. Magic and Alecto where old friends from way back and they bravely fought alongside ever since he left Aeonar behind, but his gift was also a curse of never ending pain and side-effects.

A sudden pulse of pain made Alecto carelessly drop the charcoal on the wet soil.
Damnation, this cannot continue for long he thought in between flashes of anguish. Such profanity was the pain made of that no remedy on the face of Ferelden could cure the boy's nightmare, thus giving him insomnia, panic attacks and a reckless almost-insane behavior. It was of his understanding that that disease was slowly degenerating his body and doing a better job of his mental state. A weak mind was like Ambrosia's Peak, a stronghold with its gates unguarded, and danger linger behind every corner when your thoughts are the prized food of demons and spirits of the Fade. Not a fool, the mage, he understood methods to diminish the pain, but they were by magic and a risk it was to use spells so close to the Circle Tower.
Another flash of tremendous pain and he curled in a ball, his friend toad helplessly watching the demise of Alecto as he sank deep into agony. On that bright night of radiant peace and satisfaction he cried to sleep as the pain made his brain dive into a lucid nightmare.



At the far north of Ferelden, close to Lake Calenhad, there was an Orlesian stronghold hidden by the shroud of time and secrecy, used only and solemnly on the last war against the realm of Orlais it does now rest in ruins. It's name is Ambrosia and many wonders did it held before the Darkspawn of the forth Blight had run it through, killing all those who knew about it's secret location with the exception of a taint maddened wizard.
The mage did ran away from the massacre only to be made captive by a templar patrol and then tragically sent to Aeonar, where, before his painful death, he finally met the last keeper of Ambrosia's Peak. Seated inside the hollow tower the boy with apparent adulthood had at his right side a blind toad and under his eyes bags that portrayed proud insomnia. His very pupils where of a blood red pigmentation as if only to make contrasted with his pale skin, like twin rubies on a marble statue's head.
His name is Alecto Deviccio. He's a Maleficarum and is completely insane. He ranted about magic theory with his toad companion thus proving his mental illness to any would-be imaginary observer.
“You see, magic is not a science nor a battery of unlimited firepower. It is mind's willpower made manifest into the world of living through the head of gifted people, those known as mages. Those that can claim such title have no power of their own beyond a force of will that manipulates the essence of the Veil, that which divide our world from the Fade. That willful power has many names but I decided to call it the Sense of Arcane or just Arcane Sense.”
The faithful frog that seated besides Alecto was slightly bloating as he, only now, noticed the presence of a firefly nearby. Turning tail to his friend he prepared to the blind jump and a filling dinner.
“What are you doing? You know, sometimes I feel like you don't even care about me.” The toad was completely ignoring the mage as he ranted further so to focus entirely on the firefly, which made the Apostate decide nothing more would fructify from a conversation with him. Giving a brief sigh of hopelessness he than left the bloated toad to it's entertainments.
The hollow tower of Ambrosia's Peak was glowing from the silver light that was the moon's blessing and a sense of peace overcame the Deviccio mage. The bloated toad had finally, after numberless attempts, got the pesky firefly what made the mage truly happy. He saw the small amphibian eating, contempt creeping inside his soul like a fog over a marsh in mid-winder nights which made Alecto feel compelled to write.
With an anxious spark of immediate inspiration he quickly grabbed his cookbook and a piece of charcoal to write down a poem. “Happiness is a blind toad catching a firefly in full moon night.” He than paused to avail what he wrote down on the paper and turned to his trully friend. “What do you think? Too pompous, or too humble?” The toad said nothing but bloated his neck with a cricking sound that resembled a boast. Friendship came in all vials and flasks, he did knew, the mage, and the more special it became the more easy was to communicate, he also did knew. “And I will accept that as a yes” was the mage's answer.


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Name: Alecto Deviccio.
Age: Mid twenties
Physical characteristics: Hunger – insomnia, pain. Desire – red blood pupils, red thumbnails, slightly bloated blood vessels. Sloth – growing stub, smells. Pride – overzealous care for his own hands, practice of meditation, physically strong.
A tall slim figure with almost 6'1'' and well built body. Food and sleep deprivation are visible yet not alarmingly apparent. A pale sick-like skin enter in contrast with his red eyes and thumbnails, some blood vessels can even been seen under his neck's and arms' skin, which is mostly marked with strange scars. His idle stub grows slowly over a tired face and a smell of mud and sweat follows whenever he goes.
Psychological characteristics: Hunger – power driven, lesser insanity. Sloth – apathy. Pride – arrogance, sarcasm, dryness of feelings.
As a sociopath and mage he behaves with arrogant superiority. There's nothing more important than himself and his righteous search for self understanding, everything else is just the means to reach such goal. Power had played such a key part on this odyssey that Alecto became addict of the control for his surroundings and gets very ill when out of his comfort zone. Putrid and hollow death follows him as does its spirits, which brings an air of dread around only dismissed by daylight. Rage, Dreamer, Glutton, Pride and Wish-for-Name are some of the demons he brought along since his last visit to the Fade and they make all in their capabilities to make it a nuisance to him, mentally and physically.
Abilities: On magic – Summoning. Death. Earth. Fire. Ice. Mana Alteration. Blood Magic. Battle Magic.


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Near to lake Calenhad there had always been hunters and prey. Since the Circle broke last year, it had been a truer fact than always had. That night was the first night of full moon in the first month of winter. The rays of light were as brightly cold as the caress of a lazy breeze that decided to blow uncaring for others' warmth.
Alecto normally traveled away from towers of mages and templars and hate and imprisonment and death, but that night was a different night and he dared get closer to the lake which partakes name with the First King. The reason was unclear to both mage and his companion, a slightly blind toad with a critical temper.