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Dragons, Myths, and Legends

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Introduction to the modern world of Thedas (as read by Morrigan)

In this world of dragons, myths, and legends… there are a few things you should know. In a world divided by borders and beliefs, there exists a simple truth; magic is real… and the Chantry rules all of the South. From the near impassable Hunterthorn mountains all the way to the White Spire- the Divine reigns. Oh, there are Empresses, Emperors, Kings, Viscounts, Princes, and Queens but make no mistake, the Chantry holds all the cards. For they have one ace in their pocket that will seemingly keep their rule forever secure… the Templar Order. I suppose there is also that little bit about the Maker and his bride… but for the most part it is the fear of mages that keep people bowing to the will of the Chantry. Magic is meant to serve man, never to rule over him. That’s their slogan after all. It’s printed on all of the Templar’s SUVs, you’d never miss it. The Templars are another thing all together, designed to be an enforcement agency against rebel mages and guardians for those in the circle; they can do this only because they supplement their natural prowess with a dangerous additive. Lyrium. The thing from which all magic is derived. To mages, lyrium is but another part of themselves, flowing through their very veins. To others, it is poison. But to Templars, for a time, it gives them the power to go into a fight with a mage… and come out victorious. But it comes with a price… and for many, that price is well worth it for they do the Maker’s work. Mages can be found in every race upon this planet save the dwarves. The elves and humans both have magical lines that can be traced back to the beginning of their time but the dwarves are resistant to magic in all its forms. And it is from them that the world’s Lyrium is mined and supplied. The dwarves, known only by how naturally muscular they are, their slightly shorter stature, and sometimes pale eyes- are the only beings that can tolerate the volatile substance. The dwarves hail from within the mountains and the deep roads. Once, their mighty kingdoms reigning beneath the surface… now… they have fallen to ruin, all except one… Orzammar, where King Bahlin sits on the throne. The elves, so noted by their natural beauty, pointed ears, and various other talents. Far from mankind do some still roam, but most remain, living in slavery or squalor. The wanderers are proud and fierce, calling themselves the Dalish and care nothing for the outside world, save for a few. The story of the elves is not a kind one in this world; they were once a mighty people before the appearance of man… but like so many things of their history, all of that… was lost. It is man who rules Thedas now, growing in numbers and increased power. Many advances have been made to make life easier… indoor plumbing, the invention of the hydrogen fuel cell car… though the Carta quickly cornered the market on replacement cells, thus forcing many to go without… grand cities built high above the ground, all the comforts one could hope for… if one had the coin. For those who did not… it was the slums or the farmlands. These distant lands long out of eyesight of the major cities, where small towns still held close their traditions. Where apostates could hide… and grow… and learn their elemental magic. But with the sweets… come the sours. So far from the Chantry’s strong arm, in the rural areas where the local Mothers and few Templars would often turn a blind eye to apostates who did no harm… they all were left… unprotected. When the darkspawn overtook Ostagar… and King Cailan’s forces were slain along with himself… the despicable diseased beings turned their attentions north. Carrying a vicious virus that distorted their bodies and enslaved their minds, they killed without mercy or thought save their master’s bidding. And the Archdemon had its sights on all of Thedas. The horde of tainted creatures had to first get out of the Kocari Wilds… and eventually they’d reach Lothering. The small farming village that was never more than a supply station at the beginning of the Imperial Highway… the village that housed some fifty families… only three working trucks and one fuel cell… was the village that had no warning save for a handful of soldiers that managed to flee Ostagar...