The woman who had attempted to stop Decimus from attacking the group fell to her knees by his body now that the violently resisting mages had been dealt with. "You killed him!" she shouted, dismayed. "Oh, Decimus, you should have listened to me, love..." She gazed up at the four that had killed the blood mage. "Decimus gave us the courage to face the Templars. Without him, we would be prisoners still. He was our future... Until he came, we never thought to fight back. I told Decimus he was going too far, but he said it was the only way to protect us. To protect me."
She stood, clearly desiring to look upon the maimed corpse no longer. "Please, we only want our freedom. Without your help, the Templars will execute us all for Decimus' crimes."
Nostariel's expression tightened, the frown playing at the edges of her mouth and eyes clear evidence of her sympathy, though to the statement itself, she said nothing, at least not until the woman spoke her plea. At that, the elf shook her head, though whether this was from straightforward disagreement or resignation was not precisely clear. "Thrask will not. He sent us here to prevent just that, but you must understand something. He will not be alone for long, and if you are not with him when the others arrive, it... will not end well. Surely, you can see the need to protect yourselves from that. For the sake of those of you that still remain, please, return to the Circle." The words tasted bitterly on her tongue, and something in them weighed tangibly upon her, slumping her shoulders, but... she had seen too much of the world to believe that they were really better off just running away for the rest of their lives. The Circle was a cage, but compared to the fear and perpetual danger of an apostate's life, it was a gilded one.
With their phylacteries still operational, they didn't stand a chance of remaining hidden for long, and then they really would be executed, or made Tranquil. The latter shouldn't be the case, but anyone with even a shred of realistic undersanding knew that what was supposed to be and what was differed substantially when mages and Templars were involved, and that went both ways.
“We must not.” Again, it was Sparrow who piped in, rolling her shoulders to rid herself of the growing cramps. She lowered her head when she caught sight of Ashton's appearance, blood welling down from his lips. It would do no one any good if they engaged another, tougher, foe in his state – not that she doubted his abilities, but he, for one, would not outright want to do battle with Templars. Her lip stiffened, and her posture straightened. “There has to be another way. Escape through another tunnel.” She added bitterly, whipping her head around to the other apostates. Hadn't they noticed a way out? Or was this cavern doomed to dead ends and disgusting smells? It was by the coast, wasn't it? She spread her hands out wide, then snapped them down. “Lie, or cheat if we must. Rilien can say that we've killed them. Slaughtered all of them because we had to. Thrask might be upset, but, but then they'll be able to go on their way. Leave the Free Marches and go to Ferelden – if not, expect injustice. You've committed crimes, and you're considered dangerous. They will kill you.”
Sparrow made a grunting noise, throwing her hands wide, as if to appease the Maker. She did not want to disobey her companion. She did not want to go against what she was saying. Hadn't Nostariel suffered at the hands of the Circle? But, because she'd been in one, did she think they would be merciful to their crimes? Not all Templars were as forgiving or compassionate as Thrask. There would be Templars within the Circles order who'd want to seek retribution, who'd pull on their own tethers to see these mages burn. Chains and cages were only so good if they were being compared to execution. If they hadn't a say in the matter, then wasn't this all pointless? “The Circle will not accept them anymore. They aren't runaway birds. They've killed Templars, Nos. We're leading them to the Gallows.” However metaphorical that might've been, Sparrow did not want to wring nooses around their necks. Had it been years prior to her arriving in Kirkwall, upon first meeting Rilien, then she would not have cared. Efficiency ran nearly as thick in her blood as it did in her Tranquilian companion. She'd spent years cultivating her nonchalance, her ability to walk away from the poorest souls when she might've been able to help; without a heavy heart. It's kept her alive thus far.
"Nostariel. Please..."
She was silent. She was smiling.
"Yes," the mage woman said, clearly liking the sound of Sparrow's plan far more than Nostariel's, "We have found no other ways out of the cave apart from the way we came in, but if this Templar can be fooled, then lie to him, say you had to kill us all. You've enough blood on you to prove it. We can escape when they're gone. I hear there are places, outside the Free Marches, where the Templars are not so vigilant. With our phylacteries destroyed in our escape, we could make a go of it."
She took on a different look then, a hardness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "If he can't be fooled... surely the death of one Templar is preferable than the deaths of so many mages. Kill him so that we can escape before the others arrive. Please, if you want to help us, then help us."
Rilien, entirely uninterested in the discussion taking place, stepped over several corpses and partial corpses to where Ashton was still half-laying on the ground. With his back turned to the rest of the group, it was safe to assume that the slight lift to his eyebrow was intended for the archer alone, as if to ask what he was doing wasting time on the ground when he was perfectly capable of standing. The Tranquil offered the archer his good arm and helped him pull himself to his feet, figuring that even if he didn't care a whit whether these mages or any Templars lived or died, the loudmouthed hunter was bound to have an opinion of some sort. Furthermore, he wasn't a complete idiot, so it might actually be a worthwhile one, which was clearly not a guarantee where some of these mages were concerned.
Nostariel, meanwhile, had been about to say something to Sparrow when the woman spoke. The Warden's was not a face that appeared as if it could host any expression describable as 'thunderous,' but it soon became clear that appearances were misleading. Her stare matched and surpassed the tattooed woman's in its coldness, and for once, it wasn't hard to guess that Nostariel's favored element was ice. The bladed end of her staff slammed into the ground with uncharacteristic force, and she straightened, every line betraying her utter disgust. "How dare you," she hissed, tones low and glacial. It might have been the imagination, but the temperature in her immediate proximity seemed to drop by a good ten or so degrees, her irises hardening to chips of frost set into a stern face.
"I understand what it is to feel trapped, but that does not excuse the very suggestion that we murder the man who called us, strangers to him and people far outside of the Circle, for the express purpose of saving your lives. How dare you suggest that his life is so insignificant. He is exactly what the Circle needs, and exactly the reason you will not be killed. Just how do you think he found you at all? Your phylacteries were saved from the Circle you burned. If not him, another Templar will find you, and you would be lucky indeed if that one is half as merciful as Ser Thrask. If you want the attitude the world has toward us to change, then you must be better than this. Better than his blood magic, and much better than the idea that the death of a good man means nothing. I will not lie for you, and I will definitely not murder for you. How you choose to take that is a measure of your own character." She left it unsaid that she already found it to be wanting. That much was clearly obvious.
Ashton accepted Rilien's hand with a nod of approval and thanks, before he put his hand on his back and thrusted, popping a number of bones. Now that Nostariel's magic had enough time to sink in, he was feeling better, if tired. That and the left over blood from his internal wounds was still clogging up his breathing and such. In the long run though, he'll be fine. He patted Rilien's shoulder for an extra show of thanks and then approached the brewing storm that was Sparrow, Nostariel, and the mages. If only he truly knew the depth of the murky waters he was wading in to. Or perhaps he did, and just didn't care or understood. He knew, a blow like that could scramble even the sanest minds, and Ashton's wasn't the sanist to begin with.
"Yeah, we're definitely not going to kill Thrask," Ashton backed Nostariel up, [/color]"Templar or not, he's too good a man to just off like that. So now that that option's off the table,"[/color] he mimed the action of cleaning off a table, "That leaves either letting them go, or bringing them back to the Circle," Now that the options were stated, next came the muddy job of siding on one. Great. Just what he woke up wanting to do today, side on the matters of mages. He pinched the bridge of his nose, still totally unaware of the drying streak of blood dribbling down the corner of his mouth. It gave him a rather serious appearance, more serious than he'd like.
"My kneejerk reaction tells me to let 'em go," Ashton said, again mimicking the kneejerking part. "Though considering that their leader had just tried to kill us and they already show no qualms about killing to get what they want... Maybe the best route is the Circle after all," Ashton said, offering an apologetic look for Sparrow. "Who's to say that they just won't cause more trouble, attack more Templars if we just let them go. Though the lot are machines, some do have hearts inside that armor like Thrask. Some are good people. And who's to say that they won't kill more good people just to keep their freedom?" Ashton said, clearly not enjoying the words coming off of his tongue. "At least it's safe there," He finished, rubbing his head. Then he shrugged, turned his back on the whole quarrel and went to stand beside Rilien. The Tranquil had the right idea.
"I don't care what either of you decide. I've said my piece. I'm not a mage, so I can't pretend this gobble-gook applies to me, do what you will and I'll be right behind you," Ashton said, settling in beside Rilien. "Besides, I just really want to go home now," he murmurred.
Oh great, now the mage was insinuating that Sparrow was on board with killing everyone else in her path to free them. That wasn't what she had in mind, after all. Her doubts about Thrask's ingenuity had been cleared as soon as she'd met him, for he could've taken a different route if he'd wanted the runaway apostates slaughtered. Whatever qualms she possessed against Templars could be momentarily set aside. She wouldn't kill Thrask just because she was asked to. The other Templars were an entirely different matter because they carried chains, false promises, and a nasty tendency to provoke their captives into coercive, inappropriate knee-jerks. Such things could be easily dealt with their blades because the mages were simply too dangerous to bring back to the Circle. If they walked away, and then the Templars rounded the corner to do away with them, without Thrask to oversee their journey, they wasn't it the same thing as signing their death sentences. This would be difficult.
She was slightly taken aback when Nostariel slammed her staff in the ground, galvanizing with unadulterated anger. Nearly bristling and bursting at the seams – if she were that little mage, however beautifulNostariel might've been while staring her down, she would've been shaking in her boots, as well. If she were in the mage's position, fighting for her own freedom, and if she was backed into a corner, then wouldn't she, too, want to kill everyone trying to strip her of her freedoms? She knew she would. Even if it meant destroying someone innocent like Thrask. They didn't honestly know who this Thrask was. He was just another Templar idling outside, waiting for them to convince the mages to lower their weapons and give up before they faced inevitable execution at the hands of more Templars. However stifling, and utterly frigid, Nostariel's disgust was, Sparrow couldn't help feel her heart go out to them, fluttering from her fingertips like two flighty things searching for another, much more pleasant way to end this. They wanted to live freely, much like she did. Would Nostariel have denied her if she had known what she was willing to do in the face of imprisonment?
Sparrow abruptly whipped forward, grabbing a handful of the apostate's robes before shaking her wildly, drawing her near so that she could look her in the eyes. Two pieces of flint meeting rusted copper, dark and darker. “Don't mince my words. Just because I don't want your sorry carcass to rot in the Circle, doesn't mean that we're dirty mercenaries willing to swing our swords around for just anyone. If it hadn't been for Thrask, then we'd be stumbling onto a pile of ash and bones, remember that.” She did not relinquish her grip, only tightened and spun her around to face her companions, her terrified fledgelings that had been lugged along with them. They clung to each other, as if letting go would mean they'd fall. They'd stumble, they'd be finished. Some of them might have had hands as bloody and stained as their leader, Decimus, but some even still might have been entirely innocent in any acts they partook in as they absconded from their Circle, only faltering when it came to the aspect of freedom, fleeing along with the rest of them. They would suffer. She looked at Nostariel, then to Ashton. Her tongue tied into knots, stuck to the back of her teeth to keep herself from saying things they wouldn't want to hear. She eyed the smear of blood on Ashton's lips. He should not have to suffer her pride.
“Condemn them all for the possible actions of a few?” It sounded familiar enough. Her argument was weakening already, like wobbling knees ready to buckle. Sparrow's grip loosened, allowing the material to slither away from her fingers. But, still, her heart felt heavy. It settle down to her heels like silt in the ocean, and no amount of well-wishing could dilute the impending shame. She might have hated blood mages for what they'd done to her, bringing a demon into her mindscape (even if it had been her own doing) but she felt disgusted at the very idea of marching a troupe of runaway mages into their grimy hands. She knuckled her eyelids, averting the sigh bubbling in her throat. “If you think this is right.” It was fine. Let them be done with it. She would drink for them later.
The mage seemed defeated. They certainly would not kill Thrask, and the Warden would put an end to any attempts to lie to him, which had been slim at best. Templars were easier to kill than fool, after all, that she knew. When faced with the choice between the Circle and death, Decimus had chosen death. But she... could not do it. She couldn't make the others do it. "You've made your point," she gave in. "I won't have all of us die down here in this cave. We'll go back to the Circle."
She stood, clearly desiring to look upon the maimed corpse no longer. "Please, we only want our freedom. Without your help, the Templars will execute us all for Decimus' crimes."
Nostariel's expression tightened, the frown playing at the edges of her mouth and eyes clear evidence of her sympathy, though to the statement itself, she said nothing, at least not until the woman spoke her plea. At that, the elf shook her head, though whether this was from straightforward disagreement or resignation was not precisely clear. "Thrask will not. He sent us here to prevent just that, but you must understand something. He will not be alone for long, and if you are not with him when the others arrive, it... will not end well. Surely, you can see the need to protect yourselves from that. For the sake of those of you that still remain, please, return to the Circle." The words tasted bitterly on her tongue, and something in them weighed tangibly upon her, slumping her shoulders, but... she had seen too much of the world to believe that they were really better off just running away for the rest of their lives. The Circle was a cage, but compared to the fear and perpetual danger of an apostate's life, it was a gilded one.
With their phylacteries still operational, they didn't stand a chance of remaining hidden for long, and then they really would be executed, or made Tranquil. The latter shouldn't be the case, but anyone with even a shred of realistic undersanding knew that what was supposed to be and what was differed substantially when mages and Templars were involved, and that went both ways.
“We must not.” Again, it was Sparrow who piped in, rolling her shoulders to rid herself of the growing cramps. She lowered her head when she caught sight of Ashton's appearance, blood welling down from his lips. It would do no one any good if they engaged another, tougher, foe in his state – not that she doubted his abilities, but he, for one, would not outright want to do battle with Templars. Her lip stiffened, and her posture straightened. “There has to be another way. Escape through another tunnel.” She added bitterly, whipping her head around to the other apostates. Hadn't they noticed a way out? Or was this cavern doomed to dead ends and disgusting smells? It was by the coast, wasn't it? She spread her hands out wide, then snapped them down. “Lie, or cheat if we must. Rilien can say that we've killed them. Slaughtered all of them because we had to. Thrask might be upset, but, but then they'll be able to go on their way. Leave the Free Marches and go to Ferelden – if not, expect injustice. You've committed crimes, and you're considered dangerous. They will kill you.”
Sparrow made a grunting noise, throwing her hands wide, as if to appease the Maker. She did not want to disobey her companion. She did not want to go against what she was saying. Hadn't Nostariel suffered at the hands of the Circle? But, because she'd been in one, did she think they would be merciful to their crimes? Not all Templars were as forgiving or compassionate as Thrask. There would be Templars within the Circles order who'd want to seek retribution, who'd pull on their own tethers to see these mages burn. Chains and cages were only so good if they were being compared to execution. If they hadn't a say in the matter, then wasn't this all pointless? “The Circle will not accept them anymore. They aren't runaway birds. They've killed Templars, Nos. We're leading them to the Gallows.” However metaphorical that might've been, Sparrow did not want to wring nooses around their necks. Had it been years prior to her arriving in Kirkwall, upon first meeting Rilien, then she would not have cared. Efficiency ran nearly as thick in her blood as it did in her Tranquilian companion. She'd spent years cultivating her nonchalance, her ability to walk away from the poorest souls when she might've been able to help; without a heavy heart. It's kept her alive thus far.
"Nostariel. Please..."
She was silent. She was smiling.
"Yes," the mage woman said, clearly liking the sound of Sparrow's plan far more than Nostariel's, "We have found no other ways out of the cave apart from the way we came in, but if this Templar can be fooled, then lie to him, say you had to kill us all. You've enough blood on you to prove it. We can escape when they're gone. I hear there are places, outside the Free Marches, where the Templars are not so vigilant. With our phylacteries destroyed in our escape, we could make a go of it."
She took on a different look then, a hardness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "If he can't be fooled... surely the death of one Templar is preferable than the deaths of so many mages. Kill him so that we can escape before the others arrive. Please, if you want to help us, then help us."
Rilien, entirely uninterested in the discussion taking place, stepped over several corpses and partial corpses to where Ashton was still half-laying on the ground. With his back turned to the rest of the group, it was safe to assume that the slight lift to his eyebrow was intended for the archer alone, as if to ask what he was doing wasting time on the ground when he was perfectly capable of standing. The Tranquil offered the archer his good arm and helped him pull himself to his feet, figuring that even if he didn't care a whit whether these mages or any Templars lived or died, the loudmouthed hunter was bound to have an opinion of some sort. Furthermore, he wasn't a complete idiot, so it might actually be a worthwhile one, which was clearly not a guarantee where some of these mages were concerned.
Nostariel, meanwhile, had been about to say something to Sparrow when the woman spoke. The Warden's was not a face that appeared as if it could host any expression describable as 'thunderous,' but it soon became clear that appearances were misleading. Her stare matched and surpassed the tattooed woman's in its coldness, and for once, it wasn't hard to guess that Nostariel's favored element was ice. The bladed end of her staff slammed into the ground with uncharacteristic force, and she straightened, every line betraying her utter disgust. "How dare you," she hissed, tones low and glacial. It might have been the imagination, but the temperature in her immediate proximity seemed to drop by a good ten or so degrees, her irises hardening to chips of frost set into a stern face.
"I understand what it is to feel trapped, but that does not excuse the very suggestion that we murder the man who called us, strangers to him and people far outside of the Circle, for the express purpose of saving your lives. How dare you suggest that his life is so insignificant. He is exactly what the Circle needs, and exactly the reason you will not be killed. Just how do you think he found you at all? Your phylacteries were saved from the Circle you burned. If not him, another Templar will find you, and you would be lucky indeed if that one is half as merciful as Ser Thrask. If you want the attitude the world has toward us to change, then you must be better than this. Better than his blood magic, and much better than the idea that the death of a good man means nothing. I will not lie for you, and I will definitely not murder for you. How you choose to take that is a measure of your own character." She left it unsaid that she already found it to be wanting. That much was clearly obvious.
Ashton accepted Rilien's hand with a nod of approval and thanks, before he put his hand on his back and thrusted, popping a number of bones. Now that Nostariel's magic had enough time to sink in, he was feeling better, if tired. That and the left over blood from his internal wounds was still clogging up his breathing and such. In the long run though, he'll be fine. He patted Rilien's shoulder for an extra show of thanks and then approached the brewing storm that was Sparrow, Nostariel, and the mages. If only he truly knew the depth of the murky waters he was wading in to. Or perhaps he did, and just didn't care or understood. He knew, a blow like that could scramble even the sanest minds, and Ashton's wasn't the sanist to begin with.
"Yeah, we're definitely not going to kill Thrask," Ashton backed Nostariel up, [/color]"Templar or not, he's too good a man to just off like that. So now that that option's off the table,"[/color] he mimed the action of cleaning off a table, "That leaves either letting them go, or bringing them back to the Circle," Now that the options were stated, next came the muddy job of siding on one. Great. Just what he woke up wanting to do today, side on the matters of mages. He pinched the bridge of his nose, still totally unaware of the drying streak of blood dribbling down the corner of his mouth. It gave him a rather serious appearance, more serious than he'd like.
"My kneejerk reaction tells me to let 'em go," Ashton said, again mimicking the kneejerking part. "Though considering that their leader had just tried to kill us and they already show no qualms about killing to get what they want... Maybe the best route is the Circle after all," Ashton said, offering an apologetic look for Sparrow. "Who's to say that they just won't cause more trouble, attack more Templars if we just let them go. Though the lot are machines, some do have hearts inside that armor like Thrask. Some are good people. And who's to say that they won't kill more good people just to keep their freedom?" Ashton said, clearly not enjoying the words coming off of his tongue. "At least it's safe there," He finished, rubbing his head. Then he shrugged, turned his back on the whole quarrel and went to stand beside Rilien. The Tranquil had the right idea.
"I don't care what either of you decide. I've said my piece. I'm not a mage, so I can't pretend this gobble-gook applies to me, do what you will and I'll be right behind you," Ashton said, settling in beside Rilien. "Besides, I just really want to go home now," he murmurred.
Oh great, now the mage was insinuating that Sparrow was on board with killing everyone else in her path to free them. That wasn't what she had in mind, after all. Her doubts about Thrask's ingenuity had been cleared as soon as she'd met him, for he could've taken a different route if he'd wanted the runaway apostates slaughtered. Whatever qualms she possessed against Templars could be momentarily set aside. She wouldn't kill Thrask just because she was asked to. The other Templars were an entirely different matter because they carried chains, false promises, and a nasty tendency to provoke their captives into coercive, inappropriate knee-jerks. Such things could be easily dealt with their blades because the mages were simply too dangerous to bring back to the Circle. If they walked away, and then the Templars rounded the corner to do away with them, without Thrask to oversee their journey, they wasn't it the same thing as signing their death sentences. This would be difficult.
She was slightly taken aback when Nostariel slammed her staff in the ground, galvanizing with unadulterated anger. Nearly bristling and bursting at the seams – if she were that little mage, however beautifulNostariel might've been while staring her down, she would've been shaking in her boots, as well. If she were in the mage's position, fighting for her own freedom, and if she was backed into a corner, then wouldn't she, too, want to kill everyone trying to strip her of her freedoms? She knew she would. Even if it meant destroying someone innocent like Thrask. They didn't honestly know who this Thrask was. He was just another Templar idling outside, waiting for them to convince the mages to lower their weapons and give up before they faced inevitable execution at the hands of more Templars. However stifling, and utterly frigid, Nostariel's disgust was, Sparrow couldn't help feel her heart go out to them, fluttering from her fingertips like two flighty things searching for another, much more pleasant way to end this. They wanted to live freely, much like she did. Would Nostariel have denied her if she had known what she was willing to do in the face of imprisonment?
Sparrow abruptly whipped forward, grabbing a handful of the apostate's robes before shaking her wildly, drawing her near so that she could look her in the eyes. Two pieces of flint meeting rusted copper, dark and darker. “Don't mince my words. Just because I don't want your sorry carcass to rot in the Circle, doesn't mean that we're dirty mercenaries willing to swing our swords around for just anyone. If it hadn't been for Thrask, then we'd be stumbling onto a pile of ash and bones, remember that.” She did not relinquish her grip, only tightened and spun her around to face her companions, her terrified fledgelings that had been lugged along with them. They clung to each other, as if letting go would mean they'd fall. They'd stumble, they'd be finished. Some of them might have had hands as bloody and stained as their leader, Decimus, but some even still might have been entirely innocent in any acts they partook in as they absconded from their Circle, only faltering when it came to the aspect of freedom, fleeing along with the rest of them. They would suffer. She looked at Nostariel, then to Ashton. Her tongue tied into knots, stuck to the back of her teeth to keep herself from saying things they wouldn't want to hear. She eyed the smear of blood on Ashton's lips. He should not have to suffer her pride.
“Condemn them all for the possible actions of a few?” It sounded familiar enough. Her argument was weakening already, like wobbling knees ready to buckle. Sparrow's grip loosened, allowing the material to slither away from her fingers. But, still, her heart felt heavy. It settle down to her heels like silt in the ocean, and no amount of well-wishing could dilute the impending shame. She might have hated blood mages for what they'd done to her, bringing a demon into her mindscape (even if it had been her own doing) but she felt disgusted at the very idea of marching a troupe of runaway mages into their grimy hands. She knuckled her eyelids, averting the sigh bubbling in her throat. “If you think this is right.” It was fine. Let them be done with it. She would drink for them later.
The mage seemed defeated. They certainly would not kill Thrask, and the Warden would put an end to any attempts to lie to him, which had been slim at best. Templars were easier to kill than fool, after all, that she knew. When faced with the choice between the Circle and death, Decimus had chosen death. But she... could not do it. She couldn't make the others do it. "You've made your point," she gave in. "I won't have all of us die down here in this cave. We'll go back to the Circle."
The Chanter's Board has been updated. Act of Mercy has been completed.