Last Of Her Kind

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August 4th, 2022

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Gender: Female

Age: 27
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July 28, 2022


08/02/2022 10:26 PM 

Sample. (From a story of mine.)

Meral has yet to be in this story, but if you give me time another sample will be written when I have the time to do so. Real life is just smoothing over so you will have to bear with me.

" It all begins and ends with your mind. What you give power to, has power over you, if you allow it. "

The Tevinter Imperium is the oldest extant human nation in Thedas and is ruled by a powerful magocracy. The leaders of the Imperium are called magisters and are led by the Imperial Archon.

In ancient times, the Imperium's power was unrivaled and its borders stretched across nearly the entire continent. In modern times, while Tevinter is a shadow of its former self in both size and power, it is still relatively powerful, and a major nation of Thedas.

When humans first came to mainland Thedas, several tribes spread across Thedas, but it was the Tevinters, centered on the port-city of Minrathous, who became the most prolific. The land was at first ruled by a dynasty of kings. Circles of Magi formed in Tevinter cities as closed societies of mages, presumably to train and study their talents. They formed a council of their most talented mages, the Court of Magisters, which convened in Minrathous and decided the mandate of magic in the kingdom. In -1195 Ancient, the premier magister lord of the Tevinter Dynasty, Archon Darinius, took power as its first Archon and founded the Imperium, establishing the magisters as its aristocracy. Darinius was the first human to successfully ally with the dwarves of Kal-Sharok and traded extensively with them. A body of dwarven representatives titled "Ambassadoria" was established during that time to advise the Tevinter leaders and manage trade relations between the Imperium and the dwarven kingdoms. The Archon Thalsian, one of the first magisters, claimed to have contacted the Old God Dumat to learn blood magic, which he used to declare himself the ruler of an empire. Thalsian established temples to worship dragons, which became a symbol of power within the Imperium. He created the "Altus" as the ruling class, also known as "The Magisters", while his pupils formed the noble houses that ruled the empire for millennia.

As the empire grew elven scouts were spotted in the Arlathan forest, a strange person with pointed ears and magic. Although humans had coexisted with elves for a time, hostilities soon arose when the elves retreated from human contact. Human settlements in the Arlathan forest, as well as emissaries sent to contact the elves, disappeared.

This led the Imperium to declare war, marching into the Arlathan forest to lay siege to the city with--it is said--demons and dragon thralls. Six years later, the magisters and then-Archon Thalasian sank the city into the ground with blood magic. Elven survivors were enslaved, despite their talent for magic. From them, the magisters learned to use lyrium to enter the Fade.

The magisters believed that magic was a favor of the Old Gods rather than an accident of birth, and refused to acknowledge the mage underclass of elves and newly liberated foreigners. When Archon Almadrius chose Tidarion, a lowborn mage of Planasene blood, as his apprentice, the resulting outrage from the Magisterium led to Almadrius' assassination in and a civil war that lasted for over seventy years. Mages fought against mages for the first time since the fall of Arlathan. The civil war finally ended when Archon Parthenius, former high priest of Dumat, finally admitted the Laetans to the temples and gave them three seats in the Magisterium.

During its expansion, the Imperium conquered much of the land of Thedas, as far south as Ferelden and east as Rivain, subjugating the local tribes throughout with brutal force. Tevinter's focus on defeating the elven empire, however, allowed Southern tribes--notably the Inghirsh--to make incursions against the Tevinters. In its time, however, the empire's power in the region was undeniable. It commissioned the construction of the Imperial Highway to connect all lands under their rule together for trade, but the fall of the Imperium meant the project was never completed, a large civil war erupted when the two most influential magisters warred for the vacant Archon's throne, threatening to split the empire. Even after the order was restored, it marked the decline of the Imperium's golden age.

in a misguided attempt at apotheosis, a group of magisters sacrificed hundreds of slaves and used up two-thirds of the lyrium in the entire empire to physically enter the Fade using blood magic, returning as the first Darkspawn. The Archdemon Dumat led the First Blight for nearly two hundred years, ravaging the empire and shattering its power. Civil unrest added to complications until the newly founded Grey Wardens finally defeated the Darkspawn.

Their vulnerabilities exposed to the world, the severely weakened Imperium suffered the first Exalted Marches by the escaped slave Andraste and her husband Maferath, who brought a barbarian army from Ferelden north to destroy the empire. Slave revolts by elves enamored of Andraste's campaign exploded in cities everywhere, compounding the threat of the encroaching Fereldan armies. Finally, the rebellion was put down and Andraste was publicly executed with her general four years later, Archon Hessarian, the ruler at the time of Andraste's revolt, formally converted to the faith himself and revealed Maferath's betrayal.

Rivain's war for independence from the Imperium began, which distracted the Empire from reconquering the Free Marches. Eastern cities of the Free Marches rallied to help Rivain, and at the Battle of Temerin, the Imperium abandoned Rivain.

With the founding of the Chantry, Andrastian cults gained momentum around the world. The ruling magisters of Tevinter lost significant influence as they were penned into the restrictive Circles of Magi. Though southern Tevinter had split completely, the north remained intact. The magisters eventually surrendered to the Chantry, but only on their own terms.

The Imperium split from the Andrastian Chantry and formed its own Imperial Chantry under a mage, Divine Valhail. The Black Age and Exalted Age saw several Exalted Marches ordered against the Tevinter Imperium by the White Divine when tensions between the Orlesian and Imperial Chantries grew heated. In retaliation for these assaults, Tevinter refused to send aid to the other nations of Thedas against the encroaching darkspawn following the outbreak of the Fourth Blight.

Thedas was first attacked by the Qunari, and much of the Imperium was conquered in the conflicts. Determined to retake its lost territories, the Imperial Chantry took part in the New Exalted Marches alongside the Orlesian Chantry long into the Storm Age. The Imperium did not take part in the Llomerryn Accords, an armistice which ended the war with the Qunari, as other human nations did, and the Tevinters and the Qunari were still in a state of constant war long after, as both struggled for dominance of northern Thedas. They are both currently warring over the island of Seheron.

Political power seemed to shift back to the magisters, as the new Archon Nomaran was elected directly from the Circle of Magi, abolishing laws that prohibited mages from participating in government.

The sun rose high in the sky; birds chirped to greet the morning sky, flying from whatever home they had taken that night. Far into the land of the forest, to the east of the farmlands, was a certain type of caravan. It had yet to really set up around the forest or anywhere, to be honest. A male stepped down from his caravan, a white hood covering his head with long matching robes in purple and black. Tevinter robes.

Another followed, coming from the other side, and both fiddled with the back lock of the caravan. The back door opened to reveal many dirty, unclean elves and humans, among other creatures, who stared outside with their wary and tried gazes. “Out.” One of the hood men ordered. When no one moved, the jaw of the male tightened and flashed a spark at the back. “Now!” He shouted firmly, making everyone jump in place.

The many men and women scrambled from the dark caravan. Many tumbled and tripped over each other, the rattle of chains coming from them. Eventually, when everyone was out, it revealed some younger men and women and older ones, their cotton clothes most likely given to them to wear. Only acting as a gown for the girls and ripped breeches and shirts for the other, and small slippers to cover their bare feet.

The second hooded man took a wooden pad and a magic feather. “Some of these are quite fine.” He commented, taking a young girl's chin and tilting it up slightly. “...Blind elf? She won’t sell for much.”

The man eventfully pulled his hood down, his bald head making some slaves gawk and bite their lip.

“Must you look over every single one? Just give them a quick study and move on. We still have a camp to make.”

The other hooded man scowled slightly, pulling his hood down to reveal platinum blonde hair combed back over his head to the point of it, making him look like an old man. From the loss of wrinkles, he wasn’t even that.

“...And what would the master say if we didn’t do that? Ron, you worry far too much.”

If the scowl deepened on Ron’s face anymore, the other feared it would be part of him forever. “We are wasting time.” He grumbled, “… And don’t take me for a fool, James. I know you play with them late at night.”

James' face looked rather guilty. If it wasn’t for the smile reaching his eyes, someone might consider him genuine. “ I only touch the ones he won’t like.” He shrugged. What harm could that possibly do, anyway? The master will never know about it and even if he did. Rarely did he care.

Ron rolled his eyes at him and walked away, taking the few with him that is free. The blind girl was chained to the post where they stayed usually, while he ordered the youngest to get the shelter ready and the large tent. He paused and turned to get the middle children that James sent over to him. “Get the beds ready,” He ordered the first one. “I want some dinner ready within the hour or two and no longer.” He continued, only pausing long enough for each one to nod before they scrambled to do the work.

The bald mage scanned the last of the older ones and paused. “Ah.” His eyes blinked when he noticed only one of the flock appeared rare. “This is the one we caught wandering and trying to save everyone.”

“...That elf?” Ron questioned when he walked up to his side, arching an eyebrow at his companion.

He just nodded mutely and pulled her hood down to reveal a dirt-covered face. Even then you could take her pale features are daring to glare at them hard. The brightest green eyes narrowed with danger. If she could she would have ripped their throat with her very teeth. But those emerald hues glanced away to avoid their stares. Her long black hair was pulled out of her neat braid and fell over her face in lumps. Everything about her screamed mistreatment that both mages would answer for.

Her chin was snatched back to look at them. The one is known as Ron being as impulsive as he was, “Look here, girl.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you...” James warned, stepping back a step or two when the elf's eyes widened and narrowed once more, the bright eyes darkened into misty forest green.

Ron seemed to curl his lips in disgust over his partner's fear. He turned his head slightly, and the girl twisted her chin from his fingers so fist he didn’t have time to pull back. Her teeth sunk into his knuckles, the length of her teeth seemed to grow to that of feline teeth before he howled in pain, his hand smacking the girl away from him. Which only pulled those teeth out. The painful retraction made him grab his hand and hiss.

James did not hide his mirth in his eyes. “Well... That would be why.” He barked, his lips turning up after he declared his triumph, considering the disgust on his face previously. He had no pity for Ron.

Ron glowered from where he was holding his hand. The tears gathering in his eyes refused to fall. He would be darned if he allowed them to fall in front of that man. “Shut up, James!” he snapped, muttering some words as he healed the wound the woman inflicted on him. But the pain would be there still. A memory of what he had to avoid in the future, he guessed.

The woman on the ground was spitting out the blood.  Even more dirt covering her ripped clothing if you could call it that.“Fenedhis lasa!” She spat, the blind child crying for the woman who was thrown on the ground. But she held her hand up, stopping the weak girl from helping her on the ground. She would only be in the way, and she had no need for her help. Everyone realized she didn’t understand a word they were saying, though. That was enough.

Or was it simply an act?

James shrugged and continued to smile. “I did actually, but why don’t you go back to dealing with the... Submissive slaves.” He walked down to the elf girl, throwing a grin over his shoulder. “try to calm down, Hm?”

Ron glowered and threw him a dirty finger on his way to the other slaves.

The dark-haired girl slowly sat up and flicked her green eyes toward the more quiet mage. She felt like she should be wary, her lips pressed tightly as if she didn’t dare say something. James kneeled down and shackled her wrists back together before dragging her over to the blind girl. Setting them together, before leaving them to tend to other matters. Tonight was going to be hard on them if they didn’t get camp ready, more so for the slaves than any mage.

Not far from the camp was a young man kneeling on the ground. His green eyes watching the men crowding the slaves. This was just part of the job and usually, someone like him didn’t bother to really feel for them. He couldn’t get close on the job. Of course, that failed on his last one... But details. He stood up and pushed his hood back, his well-shaped face revealing two pointy ears, sun-kissed skin with black markings on his face from his previous job. His blonde hair was combed back, long bangs falling down his face and framing him.

“Ali will hate this.” He murmured in a very thick accent. His eyes darkened slightly. Not accepting the treatment of the woman or any female and child - Abuse was considered disgraceful.

The dark cloak swayed in the wind. The elf reasonably tall, not enough to reach the height of any human. Just normal for his race. While he looked small and weak for a man his age, he obviously was skilled. The dark leather vest and skirt underneath detailed what his job entailed. How long had he been watching them? Maybe for over one day? At any rate, it was time to go back.

The dark-cloaked himself disappears into the darkness of the shadows behind him. His footsteps were quiet as a mouse. I don’t relish telling him any part of this. He thought with a quiet sigh.

It wasn’t likely to end peacefully, not with those mages down there. Although part of him imagined the elf was only being nice because of the children. If he wasn’t trained to not care, Zevran Ariani might just feel bad for the poor girl and he did in his own way. Just not in a way most people would show on their faces. Either way, he hoped those elves are grateful for their timing.

The night was coming along when he passed through the forest. Taking to each branch of the tree in case someone saw him or followed. He was pretty confident that no one did, however, it better to be safe than sorry, right?

“I need a vacation after this.” If only. He thought while rolling his eyes skyward.

Male voices alerted him to his close meeting, and he jumped from the branch into the camp, two men holding swords up toward him paused and slowly placed them back into their sheath. A light voice, but a strong one, spoke from behind. “Zevran! Good, you came back just in time.” A tall male with dirty blonde hair stepped with with a warm smile on his face. He was a lanky person with broad shoulders and a fitting body for a warrior. Warm honey brown eyes stared into the face of his old friend.

The elf passed the men and offered a twitch of his lips. “Oh?”

The king smiled wider with a shrug of his shoulders as if the news was sudden. “Teagan claimed you must have run off with some girl in the camp,” Alistair said, but the way his eyes danced with mirth revealed his faith and amusement. “I see you did your job?” The question was left unsaid, while the former crow nodded. “Good, come to my tent then.” He ordered gently, not firm at all.

Since night time came, everyone was waiting for him. Some believed the uncle of the king, but others were just waiting to see what would happen. The king, Alistair Theirin, strode back to his tent in the golden armor that stood out with bits of silver and bronze in it. Much different from his brother, who wore gold in completion. He had a thing about that. Not compared to the previous king.

“Of course, my king.” Zevran said, her lips slowly curling in a mock smile, while he dramatically bowed slightly, his right arm thrown in front of his chest. Some women snickered around them. The king rolling his eyes as he went into his tent with the playful male following.

When the flap of the tent closed behind them the stiff back of the king relaxed considerably, the crow noticed with sharp eyes; he was rather proud of his old companion. He had more strength and smarts than most realized - so did his brother; he guessed. Zevran didn’t know him well enough to say that with confidence, though.

“Do you have to mock me in front of everyone?” Alistair finally frowned. Moving toward the table where the map marked some slave spots - He was doing his best to get rid of any danger to the elves. However, it was hard. For a moment he frowned at the man across the table.

Zevran shrugged his shoulders, his boyish charm revealed through his calm attitude towards everything. “Why not? You take everything so seriously.”

“You know, for once, Zevran isn’t wrong.”

Alistair was the first to run a hand over his face in frustration. Two to one, this just wasn’t fair. “Don’t encourage him, Teagan.” He grumbled.

The lord chuckled quietly. He didn’t allow himself to enjoy things as he did previously. He was married and had children, not to mention sending his nephew to the circle wounded him more than anything. He was there for his brother, but he didn’t really cope with the idea of his child being a mage as well as he did. Teagan made his way over to the seat beside Zevran and across the king. “I was only teasing, Alistair.”

“Well, maybe we can focus on our jobs instead?”

“Of course, fill me in? What did I miss anyway?”

The Bann of Rainesfere leaned into his chair and folded his hands together while both his arms and leaned on the arms of the chair. Teagan has scars on his chest and legs, though they are rather faded now and were never too deep to begin with. His face shows his age, mostly in the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes, and a few less than well-humored lines from many late nights at his desk.

He wore a flatter version of the king’s armour, but not much different. He was still fully covered with the same armor, but his helmet was diamond-shaped at the front, with a golden line. Secured between his arm, now settled on the table. He also had a red cloth over his body, tightened at the waist and flowed down his back, legs, and sides. With the sigh of his country.

Alistair, more annoyed than ever, rolled his eyes at the two men at his table. Why he couldn’t find people more serious, he didn’t know. “We know where the camp is. Two mages and over ten Slaves.” He told his uncle, his head tilted to the elf, “... Zevran should be able to plan this to the traps-” Two sets of honey brown eyes looked at the former crow’s direction. “Isn’t that right?”

“Ah, of course. My dear friend - That is if your men will listen and not blindly drift from the plan.”

“Then would you suggest we only take a few?” Teagan asked, raising his eyebrows at him if there weren’t many there. The smaller they went, the better. He was just worried about the mages. Those blood mages could easily make up for three small numbers.

Alistair's armor clinked together when he crossed them over his chest. Looking between the two, “That might be better. I remember going in a small group in the past and it worked out for the better.”

“Yes, that would be the general direction I would have suggested.” Zevran nodded his head, a small smile playing on his face. “I must rub off on you, Hm?”

The older lord shook his head with the same matching smile on his face, whether that was toward him or both of them. He had a point. The smallest group would go well enough. “Alright then who should we take?”

“Another rogue would help. We need to look over the area when we get there, one to get the slaves even.”

Teagan rubbed his chin thoughtfully and frowned. “I would feel better if we had someone with arrows at us when we charge. We have the front attack taken care of. Maybe Wynne should come for any healing or protection?”

“Right - Wynne knows how to handle this kind of fight. We might get her suggestion on things.”

“Wonderful idea, my friend. Keep in mind she has her own problems though, she will do her best.” Amber eyes slid to the tent entrance, the undertone obviously relying on what no one else knew outside of their group. Not even his uncle knew.

Teagan blinked at this and flicked his sharp gaze toward his nephew, who just smiled nervously and walked to the entrance of the tent. The fabric of the tent closed behind him. A few mumbles could be heard from outside, and then the king walked back inside with the old mage following him from behind a second later.

When Alistair took over as king he needed someone who would be close to him and keep his best interests at heart. He had Teagan, and the Arl but really those two looked out for the people and their own homes instead of him. Wynne knew him and had that wisdom about her, considering her condition. Even with his former work as a Templar, he didn’t turn her in after everything that happened - it just didn’t seem right. Not to him, at least. He couldn’t say what they would do to her, considering the situation back then or now.

Wynne crossed her arms over her chest and looked over at the men in her room with a frown. “So, this is your plan?” She asked them, Zevran raising his hand with a smart look on his face. Her eyes instantly moved skyward. “Really? I guess you would know better.”

The bann and king laughed at her less than impressed tone, grinning sheepishly at her words.

“I assure you, lady mage. I will plan this to the best of my abilities.”

“Yes, that would be my worry,” Wynne said flatly, the entire room going silent right after.


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