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 BURDEN IN MY HAND [C], THE HINTERLANDS, CIRCA 9:41
CARVER HAWKE
 Posted: Apr 8 2018, 06:09 PM
Quote
sugar
34 posts
30 years
Warrior


Thedas had certainly suffered collapse in events that were beyond any one person’s control, but being able to walk behind the man who’d changed the world was something else entirely. There was hatred, surely—a mage who didn’t know his place, that his magic was dangerous. It was no different than his damn brother, who claimed to be “different” from the rest. Even Bethany had known, she had been more than willing to go to the Circle voluntarily, but it had been Garrett that had told her no. She had known her place. This mage? He didn’t know his—he’d need to be taught. The hatred of mages and magic asides, there was something else brewing as he walked forwards in silence. Curiosity made its way to the surface as he studied the back of the auburn ponytail as if there was something to be found within it. Why would you do something like this? What good has it done for you, bringing the entire world to fall apart, changing life as we know it? He had gall, that was for damn sure.

But what had been the point? Garrett hadn’t even killed him—just let him go on in a world that he’d created. It made sense now, even though at the time, it had just seemed like a failed martyr for a cause. Let him live with the monster he’d created. He’d never trusted the man, not from the very start—even being around him had made the hair stand up on his arms and the back of his neck, as soon as he’d witnessed the mage losing control of himself, falling prey to that demon within him.

Carver was no stranger to demons. Casting them out, removing them from any possessed mage. It was his duty, it had been for close to a decade now. He’d been a child when it had started, but not anymore—he was devoted to the cause, he understood what it meant to serve. That was his purpose—and he finally had one.

Perhaps this mage’s purpose was just to cause chaos until someone stopped him. Carver had considered it. Beheading him would be simple—perhaps his longsword through his heart from behind would serve more symbolic meaning. But Carver knew that his superiors would prefer to have Anders alive, just so they could use him as an example to every rogue mage who felt their plight was worth the risk. Carver couldn’t remember how many mages he’d killed in cold blood—the itch was ever present to do the same, now.

“Walk.” Carver spoke in a firm tone, with no room for questions. ”Slowing down isn’t going to change what’s going to happen to you, mage.” He refused to recognize him by name—he didn’t deserve one, he’d lost that privilege as soon as he had decided he knew what was best for all mages.

So it would be—this mage could become all mages. A symbol, but no martyr. He would not die. Carver would make certain of that.

Something in the air didn’t feel right—it was causing him to be wary of each step forward he took, and could very well be the mage, up to something, perhaps he was trying to escape. Blue iron brands stayed fixated on the man in front of him, ready to lunge at the slightest movement that seemed out of place.

”If you’re using magic right now, I swear to the Maker I’ll cut off your hands and see what you can manage after that. Mind yourself.” Uncertainty had unfortunately resonated out in his tone. He didn’t think that Anders could produce something like this feeling in the air, like something was wrong, but there was plenty about magic that he didn’t know—plenty that could catch him off guard. The Templars didn’t learn about magic beyond the fact it was a call to demons—attracting them simply by existing. They had to be contained. It was the only way to keep order.

Order and chaos, cousins working together in the slow formation of entropy.

Maybe none of his concerns were valid to put on the mage and he felt it too.
At least, he could only hope.
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ANDERS
 Posted: Apr 8 2018, 07:39 PM
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Angel
59 posts
33 years
Mage


His head was pounding with every step that he took. That didn't seem to matter to his company, however, not that he had actually made the attempt to converse with him. It was slightly poetic he thought, that one Hawke should be his redeemer and another his captor. Anders' wrists ached and they were raw under the heavy metal that rested against his skin. There was a voice in his head, one that he wasn't certain was his imagination or...something more, reminding him that it would be easy to break the chains that bound him. He ignored that voice. All it ever did was get him into trouble, and he was just tired of running.

Anders could feel Carver glaring at him. It was like an uncomfortable itch that just wouldn't go away. He hated this man. He'd decided it the moment the young Hawke had caught him. He hated him, hated him and hated those deep blue eyes that were burning into his very soul. Why couldn't Bethany have been the one to find him? At least she would have been polite while hating his guts. Instead of just a whithering hate that made him squirm. He was just about to snap at the man when something in the air changed.

It was like a sudden weight, a charge that ran through his veins and caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. Anders frowned, his steps faltering slightly. He could almost taste the magic on his tongue. He could hear it on the wind. It tugged at a part of him, a yearning that he couldn't describe. Carver's words sliced through his concentration and he rolled his eyes. A sigh left his lips, and he stopped walking completely.

"You know that is a myth, right? I can do magic without my hands, it's just more difficult and I will be extremely angry about it. Secondly, I would love to see you try. And thirdly... it's not me." Anders words were audibly tinged with uncertainty, and he frowned as he glanced around. There was too much magic focused nearby.

"Honestly, you call yourself a Templar and you're like an ignorant child. Did your brother not teach you basics at least? Andraste's tits." Anders was talking now more to ease the unease he was feeling in his chest. "And just so we're on the same page, these shackles do nothing to stop me from using magic either...in other words, if I had wanted to hurt you I would have several miles ago."
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CARVER HAWKE
 Posted: Apr 9 2018, 09:56 AM
Quote
sugar
34 posts
30 years
Warrior


Anything Anders said that had been remotely palatable was immediately swept aside as soon as the insults came. Really, it wasn’t his job to be educated about the specifics of magic—he knew all he needed to know. It was a disease that flowed through the veins of every single mage: this one more than most, simply because he was possessed. ”Shut up,” Carver hissed in response, drawing back his hold on the shackles as he spoke—it didn’t matter what the mage had just said, that he could still use magic anyway. Let him try. Carver would be quick to put him down, regardless of the directions given for locating Anders. Other mages, it didn’t matter: they were nothing but flies to be snuffed out.

Controlling his anger had never been Carver’s strong suit, however.

”I don’t need to know shit about what you do. Just how to stop it. And believe me, I know. If you so much as try I will expel it before you can even finish your spell. Don’t paint me with incompetence just because I don’t care to be familiar with the inner workings of traitors. It’s for your own good, and for the good of everyone. Mages hurt people. Or have you forgotten all of those people you murdered in cold blood?” A pause, and Carver recalled the mass culling that had occurred past that point, one that he’d been forced to partake in by Meredith.

Some of them hadn’t deserved it. Contrary to what the mage believed, Carver wasn’t stupid. Some of them hadn’t attacked him with eerily-colored eyes when he’d charged inside with the others. Some of them had begged, tried to appeal to his humanity. Carver had been given a job and had to carry it out. That was what the Templars did when they were given an order. To do anything else was to be a turncloak, no better than the mage in his custody.

He still remembered the woman’s face as he approached her with his longsword, how the tears had spilled over when he shoved the blade through her chest. It still kept him up nights, because she had been innocent, and he’d still enjoyed it.

It was then that he started using Lyrium more than he should—it was then that he realized why everyone else did, too.

”It wouldn’t have had to be like that, what happened at the Circle. You did that. You killed all those people in the Chantry, and the Circle too. We didn’t have a choice.”
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ANDERS
 Posted: Apr 9 2018, 10:58 AM
Quote
Angel
59 posts
33 years
Mage


Anders rolled his eyes as the young Hawke defensively told him to shut up. It was too easy to hit a nerve with Carver that he could have made it a game if he was the type of person to find enjoyment out of it. Luckily for Carved he didn't actually enjoy being a thorn in the side, most days at least, and unless the person deserved it. Carved was well on his way of sliding into the latter category, especially when he pulled back on the shackles, causing the metal to bite into his already raw flesh.

"Oh yes," Anders mocked as Carved ranted. "You don't need to know anything about your prey," he spit the word out like poison in his mouth. "Just like a hunter doesn't need to know anything of the way of the boar or a dragon. You can just blindly charge in and hope for the best. You are a prime example of Templar and I applaud you. Honestly astounding."

Now he was being petty. A long time ago there was a time where he bit back his anger, choked on it to keep from incurring the wrath of his templar guards, but not anymore. Now he spewed it forth like rain and hoped they drowned in it. It was both refreshing and terrifying.

Anders was content to go back to ignoring each other. To walk in silence while he attempted to understand the heavy feeling of magic in the air. And then the stupid kid opened his mouth again. Anders came to a full stop once again, his whole body went tense. You did this.

Those words repeated over and over again. Only it didn't sound like Carver's voice but his own. It was what he had said to himself every day since that day. His lips parted to tell him that he knew, he knew that he had fucked up. But then his teeth snapped together with an audible sound.

"Didn't have a choice?" Anders spoke, voice low dangerous. He turned suddenly, too quick for a mortal man. His lips curled into a snarl and his hands twisted, wrapping around the chains to jerk Carver forward. "We all have a choice, Carver. You chose to kill innocent people. I know what I did, what I am. But you aren't not any different than me....we are both monsters. I'm just willing to admit it."
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CARVER HAWKE
 Posted: Apr 9 2018, 12:13 PM
Quote
sugar
34 posts
30 years
Warrior


He didn’t expect a mage to have anything nice to say about a Templar. That was expected—as was the hostile tone, but it still made him see red anyways. This mage thought that he was entitled to think whatever he wanted about him, about the life he’d dedicated himself to—but thought he could get away with his sass mouth and everything else. He was far from untouchable. Carver would see to it that when they got back to the remaining Templars in Redcliffe that he would get everything that had been coming to him since he’d started all this. Carver had never liked the man—he’d always been too whiny, too needy—the way he’d thrown himself on his brother practically made him gag. Anders wore everything on his sleeve, called it passion but Carver recognized it for what it truly was: the behavior of a raving lunatic.

This time, he’d went too far. Rage shot down his spine, clouded his vision, made the corners of his eyesight black, narrowing in on the focus that he needed to put down. Anders had dragged them closer and Carver used this to his benefit, drawing back and slamming his head onto the mage’s in a hope to temporarily discombobulate him. ”SHUT UP!” Carver screamed, swaying on the spot, the pain radiating through his skull but he refused to fall. ”I’M NOTHING LIKE YOU, I WILL NEVER BE LIKE YOU!”

Anders had been right, on more than one account—he was his prey, and Carver would dig the mage’s grave with his bare hands after this was done, because killing him wasn’t going to be enough. He could crack his skull, watch his blood and brains seep out from the hole in his head—rip him limb from limb and he would still need sating.

”I’m not the monster,” Carver’s tone was entirely unconvincing—as it remained borderline hysterical in nature, a wicked smile splitting his features. ”People like us are here because of you. You need to be stopped. He drew the longsword from his back, and it glowed with power—when he swung and hit the mage, he would purge whatever spell Anders was brewing up, and hopefully keep Justice locked away, at least temporarily—until he could end this.

One boot pressed down hard on Anders’ hip to keep him down, and he swung.

Blessed are they who stand before
The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.


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ANDERS
 Posted: Apr 9 2018, 03:25 PM
Quote
Angel
59 posts
33 years
Mage


Anders barely felt the impact of Carver's head against his own. Although dazed, the pain fueled the anger already burning in his gut. A laugh slipped past his lips, low and manical, as Carved screamed at him. He shouldn't be pushing him but it but if he wanted to act like a child he'd give him a reason to throw a tantrum.

"You could have fooled me." Anders snapped. "How many children were in the circle? How many of them did you you murder?"

That struck a nerve and Anders felt Carver's wrath as pain shot through him. He tasted blood in his mouth and felt the tingling sensation of Templar magic against his skin. It was something made him feel sick, his stomach churning at the remembrance of what that felt like, having your magic sucked away and a cold empty feeling remaining.

"Carver," Anders groaned out, a warning as he felt the weight of the young Hawke on him. His hand reached out to grip Carver's ankle. Everything began to become muted, like he drowning and slipping away from reality. Another warning tried to slip past his lips, but the only sound that came out was a snarl.

Blue spider web cracks spread out over his skin, causing him to arch his back from the ground. The fingers that had wrapped around Carver's ankle tightened their grip to a bone crunching vice. It was easy for him to flip the templar off of him with the surge of strength that went through him. Anders was on his feet in seconds, the air around him bending and twisting as if it wasn't real.

"You spout righteousness when you only commit injustices." The abomination hissed, moving towards Carver with vicious intent.

He never made it. The abomination turned as the air seemed to be sucked from around them, drawing them both into its center. The bright light of the rift flared, engulfing the area with a brilliant green before exploding into energy. Both Anders and Carver were gone.
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