congrekate | dragon age au!

dragon age au!

The rumor mill is still going on as to why Jonathan Strange fled the circle to become an apostate mage. Some say that it's as simple as an argument with his former tutor. Others say that the man never really recovered from his actions in the Mage-Templar War. The most likely answer is that something snapped after the death of his beloved. The one thing everyone can agree on is that it's really a shame someone with such potential threw it all away. He could have easily made his way up the social ladder, working at a court somewhere!

To which Strange would respond that he was doing perfectly fine right now, thank you very much, even if he was currently living in a shack that leaked when it rained, he had not even half of the books he was used to, and he heard people whisper behind his back, calling him the 'mad mage of the Dales'. So be it. His plan was probably a bit mad to begin with: Jonathan Strange planned to summon a god.

Not just any god, of course. He had gone through the various pantheons, trying to find the perfect one to grant him what he wanted (power, mostly, a way to take the tools and trade of necromancy and make it more solid, to raise the dead instead of raising spirits.) And eventually, Strange settled on Fen'Harel. He could draw upon the power of the location of the Dales as well as his status as an outsider himself to appeal to the god. The ritual itself was the most complex part, but modified necromancy bindings and a few of his own additions should suffice.

And so, Strange performs the magic. And poor Solas is probably just damn confused as to what he sees when he's forcibly woken up from his nap. The shack is small, covered head to toe with knick-knacks and trinkets, some of magical significance, others not. Dried herbs cover a table and books cover almost any other flat surface. Good luck trying to find where Strange sleeps as the bed has also become storage space. The mage himself looks wild: a middle aged human with scruff and hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in years, clothes ragged and dirty. And he just regards Solas with sheer confusion.

"I thought the wolf part was literal."

This is an elf. This isn't a dog. Did he make a mistake in the summoning? And if he didn't summon a god, then who the hell did he summon?

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"Some of us have to eat," Strange responds as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. So yes, he is going hunting. It'll be a goddamn trainwreck until it isn't but hey, Solas would probably appreciate the fifteen or so minutes of Strange failing before some poor nug gets the magical equivalent of a rock to the head.

"I assume you're coming along?"

"I have no choice." What with the bonding spell making it so he couldn't be too far from Strange. That and he would want a closer view of what the mage considered 'hunting.' He had clearly lived on his own long enough, but Solas didn't get the impression he was much of a survivalist.

"At your lead," he says dryly. This might be the only time Solas can say that to Strange on this trip of theirs.

He's not a survivalist in the slightest. This is going to go terribly.

Strange walks over a few feet closer to where the nugs are, staying as quiet as he can. He places his hand on the ground and mutters a few words. One of the roots of a nearby tree grows, piercing the top of the soil, and loops itself around into a crude snare. Of course, this is interesting, the nugs are going to go explore and see what's going on. One of them steps in the snare...and nothing happens.

By the time Strange has realized this and is trying to get the half-assed snare to magically close, the nug's hopped off and is rolling in the grass being adorable and creepy or something like that. Strange swears. This is going to be harder than expected.

The only thing that could have made the sight better was if Strange had managed to get himself caught in the snare instead of failing to catch anything. Solas would have paid to see the man strung up by his own trap.

Helpful as always, Solas stands by and watches. If it aggravates Strange then it's all the better.

"Do you have no way to get one over on a nug?"

Solas is absolutely no help. Strange looks over at the elf and just gives him a glare. He's still on the ground, with his hand in the dirt, looking not all that impressive. And, unknown to him, a second nug is hopping over to sniff the snare.

"Of course I know how to get one over on a nug. I know precisely what I'm doing!" And then, without realizing it, Strange clenches his fists in anger. The snare tightens around one of the nug's legs and the creature lets out a small yelp of pain--which, of course, causes Strange to look over.

This was entirely by accident. And so, after a brief, confused pause, Strange decides to play it off like he totally knew what he was doing. He couldn't do anything to hide that brief moment of confusion but now there's a moment of smugness.

"See? It simply took a little finesse." And, with a quickly muttered incantation, a second root grows from the ground, wrapping itself around the tiny creature's neck. With another clench of his fist, the root magically tightens and the nug's dead. Now he just has to skin and cook the damn thing.

Solas notes the surprise though that reaction doesn't stop that the man does indeed succeed with his goal. And Solas had been hoping for a longer show and to see Strange running through the forest, cursing loudly as all wildlife within miles fled in panic. Alas, maybe he would get to see it tomorrow when no doubt the man would be starving yet again.

"Finesse," he repeats, staring at the man. His tone implies the adjectives he would use to describe what just happened are far from what Strange would.

"The same sort of finesse you will use to cook no doubt." And perhaps that is where Solas would end up with his show. He watches Strange for another second before he's leading the way back to camp. The man could handle carrying his own dinner.

That is entirely where Solas will end up with his show. Gingerly, Strange removes the nug from the roots before following Solas back to their campsite. It takes a bit of rummaging in his pack but thankfully, he managed to pack a knife...even if it doesn't look like the sort of knife one would use for skinning an animal in the slightest.

Without starting up a conversation, Strange sits on the ground, takes the dead animal and attempts to start skinning it. And really, attempts is the best way to describe this thing. Hoo boy is it awful. You can take the man out of snooty mage training but you can't take the snooty mage training out of the man. Strange's practical skills are a solid D+ with regards to this situation.

Eventually he's gotten the skin mostly off. Though...okay. Now what. Now he guts it, right? It's got to be gutted at some point, he's not eating the intestines and other chattal. But when exactly does the creature get gutted?

Top of his class at the White Spire, staring at this slightly skinless nug without a damn clue in the world of what to do next.

How did the man survive? Solas watches, almost mystified, that this is not only the man that's summoned him and bonded him in place, but one that has supposedly survived on his own for a good deal of time. At least, for however long his wife had been deceased. No wonder he wanted to bring her back if he couldn't manage skinning and gutting an animal.

His gaze doesn't leave Strange though he wonders how helpful he should be. Being woken early and dragged from his plans had made him far less receptive, but watching this was getting to the point where he'd rather take the nug from Strange's hands and do this himself.

"How is your dinner coming along?" he asks eventually, deciding to settle on that.

The kindness of strangers, Arabella being amazingly competent, a small garden, and knowing which wild berries and herbs were good enough to eat. That's how Strange survived but really, it was mostly due to the first two options.

"Perfectly fine," Strange lies, despite the fact that it is amazingly apparent that his dinner's coming along terribly. At least he's decided on what the next step of how to cook a nug is: gut it and take out the organs. Or at least, that's the next step on how he's cooking the nug. Drawing a slit across the animal's belly, Strange gingerly tries to cut out the heart, lungs, et cetera...until the knife slips in the wrong direction and the blood and bile and internal fluids just squirt in Strange's face. Unfortunately? He's about to sass something at Solas before the knife slips so a little bit of the blood/bile/whatever gets in his mouth.

Nature is awful and he hates it.

"Funnily enough, I'm not hungry anymore."

If Strange want to claim everything is fine, who is Solas to argue? Nevermind that he doesn't want to. Even if it is painful to watch as Strange starts to gut the dead creature. At this rate, it might be mid-morning tomorrow before the man eats anything.

He's simply watching until he notices the knife slip and his eyes widen. Once he sees exactly where the spray ends up, he doesn't hold back his laughter. That was one way to make a 'god' laugh and Solas had been hoping for a show to go with Strange's dinner.

"Your knife play could use some work."

Strange simply rolls his eyes, giving Solas a frown. Yes, his knife play could use work. Yes, he could do better. But dammit, he's a mage, not a fighter! If he needs to take care of something, he'll use magic instead of knives!

"I'm a mage," Strange responds, with a roll of his eyes. "Forgive me if I need some more experience in something I rarely use in the first place."

And for all his complaining that he's not hungry...he still kind of is hungry. So out of a combination of stubbornness and hunger, Strange goes back to trying to gut the animal. They'll be here for a while.

"As am I," he returns, nonchalantly. "I have found being able to survive on one's own to be as valued as the magic I hold."

So no matter how many excuses Solas heard, he'd find them ridiculous. It was a wonder the man had survived after his wife had passed away. Still watching Strange's display, Solas stands to investigate a nearby bush of berries and recognizing them as an edible kind, picks a handful to eat. It would have to do since there was no popcorn handy.

"Of course you'd say that," Strange remarks, with a grumble. He continues to try and gut the animal as he talks--thankfully, he's actually succeeding somewhat. "You expected to survive on your own in the first place."

It's odd, being a mage from the Circle. Though the idea made his skin crawl, Strange expected to spend the rest of his life in the White Spire, under the eyes of the Templars. It was only recently that he set off on his own ergo only recently that he had to learn things like 'survival skills'.

"We certainly weren't coddled in the White Spire. But it's different than being out in the wilderness like this."

"Even if I had not, I would not want to be a burden," he replies easily. Someone might be a bit judgmental, but he's aware of how difficult living was outside of the bounds of civilization. Beyond his life of service, he had to learn to handle all on his own and others had relied on him to manage as they strove to find a new path in life.

Which was why he needed to make it to the ruins he was guiding them to. This was not the kind of diversion from his plans he wanted.

He watches Strange for a moment longer before asking, "Do you require a fire?" Solas could start one since he's not entirely sure what type of magic Strange has an affinity before. Well. Besides the kind that preserves dead bodies and wakes gods from their slumber.

"If you gather the materials needed, I can start one myself." So that's a yes, he does require a fire and yes, he can make one himself. It's just hard to get the sticks and branches needed when one's currently battling with animal guts.

But look, the nug's mostly gutted by now! He got there eventually! Granted, it's not a pretty gutting and more of the entrails are on Strange's coat than the floor, but if he cooks it and manages to not completely char the thing, it'll at least keep him full.

The cooking part would be an interesting sight with how covered in... well, everything Strange is. He examines the man for a moment before shrugging lightly and moving to retrieve kindling. Thankfully a wooded area away from any water sources that were too close meant plenty of dry materials that would catch fire. He gathers the twigs and leaves in a tidy pile with a few heftier branches arranged in the center. He could start the fire himself and remove an entire step for Strange, but the other mage was insistent that he could handle it himself.

Once prepared, his gaze shifts back to Strange and he gestures to it. Whenever he's ready, Solas is prepared to watch.

Taking one of the sharper and sturdier pieces of kindling, Strange stabs it through the nug to serve as a makeshift spit. Gesturing to the pile of kindling, Strange starts to mutter under his breath. From the inside of the stack, a small flame appears and starts to grow outwards until it's a serviceable sized flame, large enough for roasting the nug on.

"There we go," Strange mutters, with a little sigh. Carefully, he scoots a little closer, holding the nug in the fire in an attempt to get the damn thing roasted as quickly as possible.

"Fire's simple," he explains, watching his dinner carefully. "Of course, some of the other mages from the Spire prided themselves on fire as a specialty, but even those who didn't focus on that element could at least manipulate it somewhat."

So Strange could light a fire. That bode well for the man's personal survival out here though Solas is unsure if he should be too thrilled by that prospect or not. He still needed to test the theory of whether the bond between them broke if Strange met an untimely end at someone else's hands though he was attempting to not play a strong part in that just yet.

"I have noticed the education of mages here is limited." Likely due to their shorter lifespans. There was little time to experiment and master different elements or styles if one was unlikely to live for even a full century. "What are your specialties?"

Because Solas can assume he knows them, but he wants to hear it described by the mage himself.

Strange keeps an eye on the nug as he talks, occasionally rotating it on the makeshift spit. He doesn't mind answering these questions. After all, they're just questions about himself. Solas could ask anyone to find out more about the man—and, Strange has a feeling that after all this is done and he's slipped from the bond, Solas probably would ask around to learn more about the mage that trapped a god in the first place.

"I know the basic elemental work. Creating a fire, making ice, things like that. My other specialties are more...esoteric. I wouldn't classify myself a spirit mage, but I have spent some time studying the Fade. It was a personal variation on a spell to summon a spirit that let me bind you in the first place. Recently, my research has focused towards Necromancy for obvious reasons."

It seems that with the exception of binding, Strange falls along the lines of jack of all trades, master of none.

Strange is more skilled than Solas had first suspected though he supposes when one is dealt a short timeline for achieving things, one makes the most of it.

"You summoned spirits?" Along with potentially binding them, as he's seen those in Tevinter and elsewhere in Thedas doing. Another form of servitude where the spirit had little choice but to comply once they were called into existence outside the Fade. "And what ones did you attract?"

"Most of what I summoned were wisps, fragments of spirits to enhance my magic." If Strange has any compunctions about binding spirits, it's not showing in his words or actions. Spirit mages draw upon the power of spirits all the time. Why shouldn't he do so as well?

"The results have been mixed for more powerful spirits. I tried for Compassion once, but that was a failure. Knowledge went much more smoothly. We were able to work together for a while before I broke the bonds and released it back into the Fade."

Probably leaving the spirit a little messed up in the head thanks to being forcibly summoned in the first place, but Strange doesn't know that!

"So this is hardly your first time tearing someone away and forcing them to stay for your benefit," he returns, tone bordering on calm aggression. "Have you thought of simply seeking them in the Fade and speaking with them?"

A novel idea for mages in this day and age of Thedas, he knows. Maybe if they spent less time being fearful of what would happen if they risked something for knowledge, they could be pleasantly surprised by the results. Instead, their own inability to keep control of their emotions and desires caused nothing but corruption in all they touched.

"Why would I do that when my methods work perfectly well?" His response is arrogance mixed with ignorance. Summoning and binding the spirits worked, so that's what he did. Why would he swap to doing something different?

Besides, he wasn't going to leave Arabella. He's nervous enough as is leaving her corpse for so long. Solas said he would preserve her and the spellwork was strong, but this is the longest he's been away from her since she died and he undertook the quest to bring her back to life.

Nothing in this line of conversation could go well for either of them. Solas would remain bound to Strange until he found a way to break the spell no matter how angered he became at the man. And yet, Solas can't let this topic rest.

"Do you view spirits as nothing more than a means to an end?" A teaching of the Circle, no doubt. Their understanding of the Fade was so limited it was baffling how they managed to summon or speak to spirits at all.

The unfortunate answer here is yes. Strange doesn't think about things like the personality of various spirits, their feelings, how they would even react to summoning to begin with. Oh, he'll try and be nice to them and pleasant while said spirit is summoned. And he's not a sadist: he doesn't want to hurt the things. But at the end of the day, the comfort of a spirit pales in comparison to Strange obtaining his goals.

"And what do you view them as in comparison?" he asks, knowing full well that if Solas is asking this question, spirits must mean something different to him than they do to Strange and the Circle. "You've hardly had any training on the matter—are you so foolish as to think of them as equal?"

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