However, by that time you end up having supported her and rationalizing it to a point where the whole thing seems a little self-defeating or contradictory for Hawke as having supported and actively implemented Merrill's choices despite disagreeing with them, like some sort of spineless nice guy with messed-up priorities.
On the friendship path, though, it looks like you basically agree with her on everything, which isn't any better. She basically says that all demons are just spirits, and you can gather from the sum of her dialogue that she believes all spirits are dangerous because they can become demonic when exposed to the corruptive influence of beings who live in the "real" world Thedas , just as "good" spirits are what they are because they have been influenced by positive values.
This is a not a Dalish view though. Unless the devs decide to -insert sudden appearance of mentor here- Merrill came about it on her own. With these quests it's not so much about agreeing with her as trusting her. As far as general friendship goes, despite becoming a pariah because of her views Merrill still craves friendship and the approval of her peers.
Your goal is try and support her while protecting her from the worst of what her beliefs entail, for at least a little while as she grows as a person. She's even willing to die for her people just for a chance to fix the mirror. This fatalism is what makes her vulnerable as she's usually very careful. It can definitely get complicated. Last edited: Oct 10, Paracelsi , Oct 10, What she's getting wrong — and diverging from both the Chantry view and IMHO also from reality — is that she seems to altogether ignore 'alignment' in spirits, which is not true and is disproved by in-game experience.
As in look at what happened to Justice, but back in Kristoff's body and just before Justice would have found it abominable to possess anyone really. Merrill seems to ignore this — or place herself above. Re: her sacrifices and consequences of her beliefs my Hawke would allow her to make sacrifices per se such as simply risk her life for others — Hawke does that all the time and faces not only plain physical damage but worse stuff then that.
Still, blood magic draws a line, as does making deals with demons. Merrill's approval chars deliver a clear message that she has her priorities wrong, which goes beyond pragmatic and maybe more like naive or seriously misguided or whatever.
Which is why she needs some restraints put on her. Also putting innocents at risk she keeps her eluvian and does her work in a crowded urban district, not in a secluded lab. Plus, the approval sheets at DA Wikia make it clear she has issues with pride, naivete, impatience and some more, and encouraging her goes too far toward an amoral sort of stance.
Anyway, I'm leaning toward giving her the eluvian and justifying it with the idea of some sort of supervision by Hawke and the rest of the party behind the scenes between Act 2 and Act 3 or at least some form of making sure work on the eluvian isn't playing with fire. Then I would defer further decisions to Act 3.
This sounds like a reasonable solution but prevents me from being able to make her change her approach, which is only possible through rivalry. This is giving me a pause still. I also had trouble figuring out how I should approach Pride's End. In the end I decided to go with my gut feeling about Merrill and whomever the quest title was actually referring to.
Meanwhile I've found and read this , and while I can't say I'm none the wiser, I certainly am none the closer to making a decision. I think the game's presenting you with a choice to make based on very limited information.
But, it could be argued that you receive sufficient information to be either extremely wary of Merrill or dismissive of the Keeper and the Clan's fears depending on what your opinions are and where your sympathies lie in general. In other words, just enough to trigger your usual inclination and either A deem Merrill to be reckless and oblivious to the dangers and moral implications of her choices, or B deem the Keeper and the Clan to be prejudiced etc.
It's probably intentional that both the Keeper and the First make a convincing presentation and use powerful moral arguments, though I'm not sure if the devs wanted to give us a balanced choice, or grey choice, or anything of the sort, or just make Merrill very teary and guilt-tripping about being denied.
Her negative rivalry reaction to diplomatic choices in dialogues after returning to Kirkwall can be seen as a giveaway that she's intentionally designed as being quite deranged or at least emotional in the situation. Right at this moment I'm not sure if my hesitation isn't resulting from trying to both do the right thing and be nice to Merrill, simply because of personal sympathy for her, so basically being in denial.
And perhaps partially because of what is learned about the Keeper from Act 3 quests and non-DA2 lore, hence metagaming.
To be honest, I really dislike the way the game is getting out of its way to make choices ambiguous, which I dislike when information is limited. It doesn't really matter whether you believe in the Chant or not, your world view is colored by its biases.
The game never explicitly makes it known that it's doing this, but if you're someone who grew up in a household with a strong religious background like myself the signs are there. My own choices regarding Merrill were very subjective and the realization of what was happening definitely played a major part in influencing my decisions. A lot of the ambiguity goes away if you look at the situation form a different perspective.
The only way the demon could have possessed her so completely was if she had become blinded by her pride - her belief that she knew what was best for Merrill. In contrast, Merrill brought Hawke and co. She knew what she was doing.
That only makes the aftermath that much more tragic. Paracelsi , Oct 11, I think Merrrill is both selfless and selfish. Yes, she takes precautions, but that doesn't actually change the fact that her very need for precautions stems from arguably reckless, careless decisions in which she is selfish by turning against the wishes and advice of her people, her clan leader and mother figure, deprives her clan of a First, accepts excessive risks, turns to immoral methods etc.
Plus, she's not even sure that those precautions work, e. She certainly gives the impression of being innocent, but some of it may after all be act. She does seem to have a tendency to blame anybody but herself. In Rivalry, she's supposed to open up and tell you not to try to save her from herself — which looks like one of those people who insist on making stupid choices because they have a self-chosen mission and they think it's so noble and tragic and epic and dramatic and raising their self-esteem?
Kind of like women who marry the wrong men despite knowing better attractive dark and handsome reoffending convicts with huge debts and lots of enemies because it fits whatever tale they're spinning. From what I've seen about Rivalry, she's more open about already recognizing that her dark choices lead to disastrous results but still stubbornly pushing forward. Friendship doesn't give you full information. From what I've seen about romance, she refuses to move the eluvian to Hawke's mansion because she claims it's too dangerous, which contradicts her assurances about her precautions and being sure about what she's doing.
If you recall first meeting her, she's casual about using BM to open the barrier — this is where she says 'the spirit' and you can correct her with 'the demon, you mean'. She's event blatantly open about how she made a deal with the demon rather than learning BM accidentally, as Anders was hoping. It's only later that she starts seeing the need to give excuses for her actions — and lame excuses at that — didn't have resources, didn't have help, saw no other way etc.
Plus, the game isn't explicit as to what the deal with Audacity was about, although it wouldn't be fair to presume something like giving up her soul which is not really a DA concept. Re: Pride's End, I think it's intentionally ambiguous. I would say it's a classic master-vs-student trope where both are stubborn and neither will budge, leading to disastrous results.
Just like with selflessness vs selfishness, Merrill has huge self-esteem problems in general, but she also has that sense of being right when everybody else is wrong and looking only to herself for judgment, information, authority etc. Finally, I think the game is intentionally baiting us with huge green watery eyes, sad breaking voices etc.
She wakes him gently, and there is a softness in her gaze that wrenches at his heart. He tastes envy, metallic on his tongue, as the man wakes up and reaches a weak hand to stroke her face.
Anders looks at Fenris and bites his lip nervously. There is nothing to expect. It would be wrong to expect anything, in times like these. Varric glares at him. Easiest and least controversial way to kill the agitators. No one likes a guard-killer, makes you all look bad. Or sell people to the Blind Men.
Get out of town. Someone in the alienage sold the Lavellans out, said they were here. So you guys need to get out of town for awhile. Especially you, Blondie.
What about the strikers? He was nowhere near well enough to be on his feet yet, not with the bash he got to the head.
Anders hurried over and took his other arm, and settled him in a chair. What had Fenris said his name was? He stared at Varric. Varric raised an eyebrow. He wants him to come, of course he does, because Fenris is reliable in a fight. He knows these two elves. He knows the Free Marches better than him, too, since he had spent a few years in hiding before settling in Kirkwall. Those ships need to move.
This is where he belongs. This is where the work must be done. Bethany is expecting him to shepherd two apprentices through the sewers and hand them off to Samson, who will escort them to Rivain. Samson liked mages, and used to pass along messages for Karl before his friend was tranquilized, and would do anything for enough lyrium. But you better act fast--before someone robs him of his horse. He stashes his few favorite things--the shawl Mahariel made him, his journal, his cracked phylactery, and that small embroidered pillow his mother sewed him, a lifetime ago.
No more excuses for complacency apparently, according to Lavellan. Or that I want to. I serve the People in my own way--mages too, you know. Not everyone can do what you do. Do you want more blood on your hands? We apostates have an obligation to those who are stuck in the Circle. The cart is loaded with bales of hay. He looks at it distastefully. He can already feel himself itching. They make a space for the four of them to curl up together, and then cover them again with hay.
When he moves to sneeze, Fenris pinches his nose and he chokes on a giggle. It only makes it marginally better as the driver sets off. They jostle uncomfortably against each other as they drive into the sunset. It is not the most uncomfortable way Anders has escaped a city, but it is definitely the itchiest.
He tries to say something to Fenris, an apology or a jeer, but Fenris just leaves his hand resting at his jaw and presses against him. That too is uncomfortable. The cart rattles on a particularly rough part of cobblestone, and Fenris snakes a hand around his waist to keep himself from being thrown against the cart.
Anders leans against him with bated breath. It is suffocating in the cart, and he is afraid. Fenris has also obviously eaten something garlicky the night before. He tries not to think too much about proximity. Instead, he worries about Merrill, and the mages, and his cat. An eternity passes as Anders listens to the rattle and jostle of cart over cobble transition to the paved road leading towards Ostwick. Then they are all nearly thrown out as it takes a sharp left and begins to escalate: the driver must be taking them in the Sundermount.
He focuses on his breathing, on the mana thrumming in the people around him and the landscape unfolding him, and sinks into the wonder of it. The Dalish mage is all tightly controlled heat, like a planned burn on a field. When he closes his eyes he can see Fenris tattooed to the back of him. Finally the cart stops. They all tense. Just give me a bit to unload this. Anders recognizes the small homestead they are parked at--friends of Hawke through Athenril.
He breathes in that wonderfully sharp, woodsy air as they lurch out of the cart. He turns to help Imladris get Mahanon out, but Fenris is already half-carrying him. Anders hurries over, hands glowing. Mahanon gives him a weak smile and pushes him away. I need extra if there are templars involved. He wonders if this is where Varrics disappear sometimes. Anders really does not care.
They settle Mahanon into a bed, and Anders changes his bandages. The cuts have scabbed over, but his ribs are still purpled and he cannot move particularly well. He leaves his patient to the tender care of his wife, and then collapses into the plush armchair by the fireplace. Fenris follows, and Anders reaches for him, exhausted. Fenris takes his hand and squeezes it. He meets their gaze and Anders sees an naked vulnerability there as exhaustion forces him to drop his usual guarded expression.
For once Anders holds his tongue. Anders squeezes his hand back, and Fenris pulls away, and as he falls asleep he feels a blanket being draped around him. When he wakes up he finds his shawl tucked around him and his boots off: Fenris, and what has he done to deserve this sort of tenderness?
Summary: Cahel Mahariel likes the cold Cahel's breath created steam as he trudged through the snow, cloak wrapped tight around him. Down the hill, his clan was sleeping through the winter night. In the morning, they would wake to the layer of white deposited on their aravels and the keeper would melt it away. Until then, the world belonged to him. At the peak, he had a clear view of the entire area. Off in the distance, a hunter's campfire burned as a point of light in a dark forest. He heard the rustling of bare branches, the whisper of owl's wings as they too set out to hunt.
All of it was quieted by the snow falling softly around him, covering the dead grass and muddy ground with pure white. Cahel sought a stump in order to look up at the sky. The fact he had to brush snow off bothered him little as he sat, curled up in his cloak.
Snow began to fall on his shoulders, but he didn't mind. He was content to watch it fall, still as the world around him. He frowned, drawing his cloak closer. Despite the fact he was almost 18, Marethari still wasn't letting him take the final hunt to earn his vallaslin. Hunters a year younger than him already had the ink settling into their faces, but he had nothing to show for his efforts.
It was frustrating, to say the least — he wasn't incompetent. In fact, the head hunter said he was one of the best archers he had seen in quite some time. Marethari promised it wouldn't be. But then why? He knew how to hunt, he had taken down game. They could leave him on his own and he was perfectly fine.
All of that indicated he was more than ready to prove himself. Besides, it wasn't like a whole year was being held back. All those he had trained with had long since passed on, some even beginning their families. He was left behind, to glance at their footsteps and wonder when it would be his turn. His voice rang out on the hill, and somewhere a bird startled to life in the bush. Cahel watched it fly, frowning as he felt the cold wind against the tips of his ears.
Part of him had hoped coming to watch the snow fall would help settle his nerves, but it only seemed to be making things worse. At the rate he was going, he wouldn't sleep at all. Tomorrow was going to be rough at that rate His question was met not with an answer, but the crunching of feet on snow. Someone was coming up the hill at an easy pace, though they slipped once if the muffled cursing was anything to go by. The voice was familiar, and caused him to chuckle as he turned to face them. Tamlen had snow on his head and the knees of his leggings were wet from the snow.
He ignored his friend's snickering as he came to rest on a nearby stone. When he tilted his head to glance up at the sky, the lines carved into his face seemed to match the dark sky. The thought made the apprentice hunter frown as he pulled his cloak closer. What's wrong? That earned him a glare from a rather red-faced elf who would rather not have to think about that.
He still had a few weeks before he was suffering. Better to not mention it and bring it early. For all they knew, the gods were listening and ready to spite him. Part of him knew he sounded like a sulking child when he said it like that. After all, he wasn't the first elf to meet 18 without his vallaslin.
But he was the first actually competent one in quite some time, at least by his calculations. Other hold-backs often didn't know their ass from an arrow, to say the least. That didn't make him feel any better though That made Cahel stand as frustration propelled him to his feet. You've seen me in action, I can do it! Part of him wanted to just march down to Marethari's aravel and demand she tell him what the holdup was.
He didn't, though. That wouldn't exactly help his case if he was acting like a child about things. Besides, she might blast him out onto the snow, and then where would he be? He liked not being on fire, thank you very much. And fall. I ask her every season and she keeps telling me I'm not ready. You think she would at least tell me how I could become ready, I'm no good to anyone stuck back in camp!
Well, he was good for watching the small kids and baby halla when he wasn't helping the hunting teacher. When it came down to it, he was becoming quite the errand boy. Cold fear struck his stomach at the thought that Marethari might have been preparing him for that After all, if that was true she would've stopped him from hunting. You didn't exactly need an errand boy to pull a bow properly. But that was the last of his explanations, so there wasn't much else he had in mind.
Tamlen left his rock at his words. The elf soon joined him on the stump, close enough to touch. It was at least a little warmer now, though the wind was still chill as it blew across the hill top. Down below, the campfire flickered. Hopefully the hunter had success It was something new they had started, something unsure in their routine. Cahel's face heated up as he saw Tamlen's gaze on him. The look in his eyes was new too, and something about it excited him in a way nothing else ever had.
It's cold out here, and we're going to catch a cold at this rate. Now it was Cahel's laughter that rang out into the darkness as he stood, brushing the snow from his cloak. Can't have the mighty hunter freezing to a stump.
Together, hands still laced, they started back down the hill to the waiting aravel. No doubt the next morning was going to be messy and tiresome, but at least he felt a little better. Doubts still ate at his mind, but Miris' nose sounded stuffed up as they walked along the top of the fort.
It was a dark night, and the snow falling turned the sky above their heads orange. Down below, Vigil's Keep was quiet. In the morning, they'd have to do some shoveling. Cahel kept his cloak close as he walked along the stones. The world looks clean. A good cleaning was exactly what it needed after the Blight. They were still finding remnants of the horde in pockets of Ferelden that they had to put down and burn before someone got tainted.
The land still bore the scars, especially at Denerim. They would be rebuilding for months, maybe years, before things were back to normal. Cahel stopped to stare over the wall. In the distance, he saw Amaranthine and the Waking Sea beyond it.
At the distance he was at, it looked like a pane of dark glass reflecting the snowy sky above. Something about it was strangely peaceful, as if the world had gone to bed. You could see the snow from anywhere in Vigil's Keep. Miris and Stumpy were back a ways, surveying the area.
Technically, neither should have been on night duty thanks to the warrior's poor eyesight. The problem was that they were stretched a little thin at the moment, so it was all hands on deck. He picked up his maul, laying it across his shoulder. I'll cover your morning shift for you.
Don't let anything kill us while we sleep, Commander Squirt. The rogue rolled his eyes as he settled onto the wall. There was no barb to their words at this point — they were too close for that now. It happened when you slayed an Archdemon together and lived to tell the tale. That of course didn't mean they stopped teasing each other — that would be bizarre. But, it was friendly now. Miris and his dog disappeared down the stairs, leaving Cahel to the sky.
His breath came out in a fog of steam as he stared out at the ground below. Without the moon, he wasn't sure what time it was. Probably after midnight, but other than that he was lost. Cahel wasn't sure who was talking to — it certainly wasn't his dog. Tamlen was in the capital city, trying to bolster their mabari numbers. He had no other company other than the torch and the snow, and neither of those could respond to his words.
But he said it anyway, as he looked down at the necklace hanging from his neck. He had gotten it half a year prior attempting to save someone who didn't deserve it in the slightest. Not that it mattered- Eamon's days were numbered by a number of assassins — but he had promised Alistair he would try. After that, the man was on his own.
Tamlen, the real Tamlen, had been there, but not there at the same time. After all, Cahel hadn't been able to touch him, or to hold him one last time. His ghost, maybe, had given the necklace to him as they stood in the gauntlet.
A lifetime had passed between them in those few moments before he smiled and faded away, never to be seen. Cahel still didn't like thinking about that. He tried his best to block it out, but the memories still leaked through in the quiet of the night.
Something had needed to replace the Archdemon eating him, he supposed. They were getting less by the day, but sometimes they still got to him. It had gotten to him that night — it was why he was awake.
Found out why — Marethari wanted to make me a clan guardian. The armor weighs more than I do. Nobody was there to answer his laughter. There was just the cold air and the soft snow falling all around him. Cahel watched it, sighing as he pulled his cloak closer. Day by day, he was getting over it. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much in time.
His ears lowered as he stared across the snowy landscape. It's about being supportive of Merrill. If you choose the "I'll take responsability" response, you are basically telling Merrill that you don't support what she's trying to do, hence the rivialy points. Being supportive or not are both valid choices, depending on what kind of character you choose to play.
It's just Merrill's story is so tragic already I often find it difficult to choose anything other than the safe option where everyone walks away alive. Well, almost everyone. User mini profile. Guest Status: Offline. By jlb - Sat Dec 10, am. She cannot die here. I don't see it as Hawke convincing Merrill of anything here.. Hawke can make suggestions on what she should do afterwards study Dalish history and helping the alienage are two possibilities for both friend and rival.
I don't care about spoilers If you don't give her the Arulin'holm, you're siding with the woman who backed out of her deal to give Merrill the tool and Merrill rightfully hates you for it. If you give it to her, you're recognizing that Merrill did the task and Marethari backed out of her deal, and that Merrill is deserving of the mirror. At least that's how I've always seen it.
Both games have given lots of information to prove that there is no danger from the Eluvians. So -- were I you -- I'd give her the Arulin'holm.
0コメント