Dragon Age: Circle of Ash
War raged in the Circle Tower, blood stained its stone walls crimson, and the lifeless bodies of mages and templars alike littered the floor. A cacophony of screams, clashing swords and destructive magic resonated throughout the Tower seemingly only moments ago, but now it was quiet. Deadly quiet.
Except for Ser Francis’ pitiful whimpering.
“Maker, p-protect us, f-free our souls from the Maleficarum and g-guide us with your r-radiant light…”
Ser Tristan Rathain rolled his eyes at the younger templar. “Save your prayers, Ser Francis. The Maker isn’t going to come to our rescue any time soon, that’s for damn sure.”
Ser Francis choked back a sob. Tristan sighed under his breath. Poor bastard. Not even a month ago Francis was still suckling Andraste’s tit in the peaceful cloistered halls of his village Chantry. Now he cowered in a corner, hiding from rogue murderous mages intent on burning him and his beloved Chantry to the ground.
Templars spent years training for the possibility of a mage rebellion, the erupting chaos that would follow if mages were freely allowed access to their terrifying power. The Right of Annulment wasn’t just a means of resistance; it was a murder spree, an extermination, a cleansing. A templar’s worst nightmare come to life.
Tristan reveled in every moment of it.
As one of the few remaining survivors of the massacre left, he and Francis decided to conceal themselves amidst the dusty tomes and shelves of the apprentice library, until they received word from their Knight Commander on what to do next. It wasn’t safe to evacuate the Tower yet, not until every damned bloody mage was eradicated, gone to meet the Maker Francis prayed so desperately to.
Tristan tightened his grip on his longsword’s handle when he thought he heard something rustling in the back of the library. By the look of fear that flashed over his eyes, Ser Francis heard the noise too.