- Leliana: I'm wondering Morrigan... do you believe in the
Maker? - Morrigan: Certainly not. I've no primitive fear of the
moon such that I must place my faith in tales so that I may sleep at
night. - Leliana: But this can't all be an accident. Spirits,
magic, all these wonderous things around us both dark and light. You
know these things exist. - Morrigan: The fact of their existence does not
presuppose an intelligent design by some absentee father-figure. - Leliana: So it is all random, then? A happy coincidence
that we are all here? - Morrigan: Attempting to impose order over chaos is
futile. Nature is, by it's very nature, chaotic. - Leliana: I don't believe that. I believe we have a
purpose. All of us. - Morrigan: Yours, apparently being to bother me.
--
- Leliana: So you truly do not believe in any sort of
higher power? - Morrigan: It has been bothering you, I see. No, I do
not. Must I? - Leliana: What do you believe happens to you after you
die then? Nothing? - Morrigan: I do not go sit by the Maker's side, if that's
what you mean. - Leliana: Only those who are worthy are brought to the
Maker's side. So many other sad souls are left to wander in the void,
hopeless and forever lost. - Morrigan: And what evidence of this have you? I see only
spirits, no wandering ghosts of wicked disbelievers. - Leliana: It must be so sad to look forward to nothing,
to feel no love and seek no reward in the afterlife. - Morrigan: Yes, the anguish tears at me so. You have seen
through me to my sad, sad core. - Leliana: Now you're simply mocking me.
- Morrigan: You notice? It appears your perceptive powers
know no bounds.
--
- Leliana: Let me ask you this, then, Morrigan. What if
there really was a Maker? - Morrigan: Then I would wonder why He has abandoned His
creation. It seems terribly irresponsible of Him. - Leliana: He left us because we were determined to make
our own way, even if we hurt outselves, and He could not bear to watch. - Morrigan: But how do you know? You cannot ask Him this.
Perhaps He has gone to a new creation elsewhere, and abandoned this as a
dismal failure, best forgotten. - Leliana: I do not need to know because I have faith. I
believe in Him and feel His hope and His love. - Morrigan: "Faith." How quickly those who have no answers
invoke that word. - Leliana: How can someone who practices magic have so
little capacity to believe in that which she cannot see? - Morrigan: Magic is real. I can touch it and command it
and I need no faith for it to fill me up inside. If you are looking for
your higher power, there it is. - Leliana: But only if you can control it. I do not envy
the loneliness you must feel at times Morrigan. - Morrigan: I... leave me be. Loneliness would be
preferred to this... endless chatter.
More than half the wealth of Orzammar comes from a single, extremely
rare substance: Lyrium. The Chantry believes it to be the "Waters of the
Fade" mentioned in the Canticle of Threnodies, the very stuff of
creation itself, from whence the Maker fashioned the world. Only a
handful of Mining Caste families hazard extracting the ore, finding
veins in the Stone quite literally by ear. For in its raw form, lyrium
sings, and the discerning can hear the sound even through solid rock.
Even though dwarves have a natural resistance, raw lyrium is
dangerous for all but the most experienced of the Mining Caste to
handle. Even for dwarves, exposure to the unprocessed mineral can cause
deafness or memory loss. For humans and elves, direct contact with
lyrium ore produces nausea, blistering of the skin, and dementia. Mages
cannot even approach unprocessed lyrium. Doing so is invariably fatal.
Despite its dangers, lyrium is the single most valuable mineral
currently known. In the Tevinter Imperium, it has been known to command a
higher price than diamond. The dwarves sell very little of the
processed mineral to the surface, giving the greater portion of what
they mine to their own smiths, who use it in the forging of all truly
superior dwarven weapons and armor. What processed lyrium is sold on the
surface goes only to the Chantry, who strictly control the supply. From
the Chantry, it is dispensed both to the templars, who make use of it
in tracking and fighting maleficarum, and to the Circle.
In the hands of the Circle, lyrium reaches its fullest potential.
Their Formari craftsmen transform it into an array of useful items from
the practical, such as magically hardened stones for construction, to
the legendary silver armor of King Calenhad.
When mixed into liquid and ingested, lyrium allows mages to enter
the Fade when fully aware, unlike all others who reach it only when
dreaming. Such potions can also be used to aid in the casting of
especially taxing spells, for a short time granting a mage far greater
power than he normally wields.
Lyrium has its costs, however. Prolonged use becomes addictive,
the cravings unbearable. Over time, templars grow disoriented, incapable
of distinguishing memory from present, or dream from waking. They
frequently become paranoid as their worst memories and nightmares haunt
their waking hours. Mages have additionally been known to suffer
physical mutation:
The magister lords of the Tevinter Imperium were
widely reputed to have been so affected by their years of lyrium use
that they could not be recognized by their own kin, nor even as
creatures that had once been human.
First day, they come and catch everyone.Second day, they
beat us and eat some for meat.Third day, the men are gnawed
on again.Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.Fifth
day, they return and it's another girl's turn.Sixth day, her
screams we hear in our dreams.Seventh day, she grew as in
her mouth they spew.Eighth day, we hated as she is violated.Ninth
day, she grins and devours her kin.Now she does feast, as
she's become the beast."
It is well-known that darkspawn
carry off those captured in their raids to underground lairs. most
assume that the prisoners are eaten, or somehow tainted and turned into
darkspawn themselves, though this could never account for the sheer
numbers of the horde. Forays made by Grey
Wardens into the underground have uncovered the answer.
When exposed to the darkspawn taint, men are driven mad and
eventually die. Women, however, undergo great pain and gross mutations
that cause most of them to perish. Those that survive, however, become
the grotesque broodmothers. These giant, twisted behemoths birth many
darkspawn at a time; a single broodmother can create thousands of
darkspawn over the course of her lifetime. Each type of darkspawn is
born from a different broodmother: Humans
produce hurlocks, dwarves
produce genlocks, elves
give birth to shrieks, and from qunari
are born the ogres.
There may be a Maker, but the Maker the Chantry tells about surley is as Morrigan says, an irresponisble father-figure, afterall accoring to the Chantry he did leave the Fade as a failed creation, who's to say he didn't do the same with Thedas.
About the Darkspawn and the Broodmothers, read the codex above.
About the Ashes, Oghren mentions there is a high concentracion of Lyrium there, and since Dwarfs can sense Lyrium, I have no reason to doubt him.
Short Answer: Magic
Too much room for misinterpretation.
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