Talk:Triss Merigold/@comment-27334094-20171024092759/@comment-27334094-20180828165538

^Triss is allergic to magic potions (elixirs) not to magic as spells. The Triss is alergic to magic is some weird twisted lore by some game fans probably.

Here are exact quotes from official English translation of Blood of Elves (kindle versions)

Triss is allergic to elixirs:

''They picked her up and laid her on a cloak. Geralt unstrapped the saddle-bags without a word, found a casket containing some magic elixirs, opened it and cursed. All the phials were identical and the mysterious signs on the seals meant nothing to him. ‘Which one, Triss?’ ‘None of them,’ she moaned, with both hands on her belly. ‘I can’t. . . I can’t take them.’ ‘What? Why?’ ‘I’m sensitised—’ ‘You? A magician?’ ‘I’m allergic!’ she sobbed with helpless exasperation and despairing anger. ‘I always have been! I can’t tolerate elixirs! I can treat others with them but can only treat myself with amulets.’''

Triss talking about Sodden  - she is talking about archmages using high magic on all of them:

''‘No, Geralt. I won’t. After all, you want to know what happened there, on the Hill. So listen – there was a din and flames, there were flaming arrows and exploding balls of fire, there were screams and crashes, and I suddenly found myself on the ground on a pile of charred, smoking rags, and I realised that the pile of rags was Yoël and that thing next to her, that awful thing, that trunk with no arms and no legs which was screaming so horrifically was Coral. And I thought the blood in which I was lying was Coral’s blood. But it was my own. And then I saw what they had done to me, and I started to howl, howl like a beaten dog, like a battered child— Leave me alone! Don’t worry, I’m not going to cry. I’m not a little girl from a tiny tower in Maribor any more. Damn it, I’m Triss Merigold, the Fourteenth One Killed at Sodden. There are fourteen graves at the foot of the obelisk on the Hill, but only thirteen bodies. You’re amazed such a mistake could have been made? Most of the corpses were in hard-to-recognise pieces – no one identified them. The living were hard to account for, too. Of those who had known me well, Yennefer was the only one to survive, and Yennefer was blind. Others knew me fleetingly and always recognised me by my beautiful hair. And I, damn it, didn’t have it any more!’ Geralt held her closer. She no longer tried to push him away. '''‘They used the highest magics on us,’ she continued in a muted voice, ‘spells, elixirs, amulets and artefacts. Nothing was left wanting for the wounded heroes of the Hill. We were cured, patched up, our former appearances returned to us, our hair and sight restored. You can hardly see the marks. But I will never wear a plunging neckline again, Geralt. Never.’'