The Price of Freedom (Lookie)

[Umbranox]

The Price of Freedom
~A Dragon Age Roleplay~

His Arvaarad was dead. The Saarebas watched him die.

The battle was sudden. It began with the whispering scream of arrows, followed by the battle cries of men. The patrol was neither surprised nor alarmed. Qunari never felt such emotions in war. The enemy was cowardice and daring, while the Qunari were steadfast and unrelenting. The enemy was no better than animals, beasts to be tamed by the power of the Qun. Their selfish nature disgusted the grey giants, their need for more too difficult for the Kossith to comprehend. They were human, and they would die.

The end of the battle came just as sudden. The patrol fought with the righteousness of the Qun. The Saarebas shifted through the Veil and moved toward the edge of the battle, preparing a spell as he went. When he reached the other side, however, he felt the pull of the golden rod from across the battlefield. The binding device was rarely used in such a fashion; it was meant to restrain a Saarebas if it proved out of control, rather than to give orders. The Saarebas hesitated. Then the voice of his Arvaarad called for him.

He felt the command to flee resonate down through his collar and into his mind before he could go to the Arvaarad’s side. Confused and uncertain, but compelled to follow the order, the Saarebas disappeared once again into the air and reappeared far behind the battle. Another command was given, reaching his thoughts just as the Arvaarad was struck. The Saarebas finally understood.

Lifting both hands into the air, the Saarebas called lightning down from the sky.

The spell had done as it was meant to. It killed the humans that had attacked them, leaving nothing more than charred corpses in its wake. But it had also taken the lives of the patrol. Only he and one other Saarebas remained. The Arvaarad was gone, as was the hold of the binding device. The Saarebas did not know if that had been the Arvaarad’s intention. It was not likely. An Arvaarad was chosen for his quality as a shield against the evil of demons, as well as his ability to lead and control his karataam of mages.

The sudden freedom was not easy to comprehend. His Basvaarad was dead. Without a lead, he was outside of his karataam. Corruption was eminent. He needed to return to the Qun. He would have to die.

But he did not want to die.

The thought made him stay his hand.

He watched as the other Saarebas returned to the Qun without hesitation, summoning fire at his feet and allowing it to consume him. The Saarebas watched until nothing but bones remained of the last of his karataam.

The Saarebas did not move for many hours. His mind circled between what he should do and what he wanted to do. But something, some thought, some desire, pushed him to remain among the world. His loyalty to the Qun was unwavering, but something told him not to return through death. The idea was difficult to understand, and without a lead he did not know what to do, where to go. He wanted purpose. He had that with the Qun.

He wanted to live. He wanted the Qun. He wanted both.

“To want is beyond the Qun,” he berated himself, only to raise his head in surprise. It had been far too long since he had heard his own voice, let alone been one in his thoughts without his karataam and Arvaarad.

Without understanding his own designs, the Saarebas gathered the control rod from the Arvaarad’s body. The lifeless husk offered no resistance as he tore folds of cloth from the Arvaarad’s leggings. He quickly wrapped the rod within; though it was broken and unusable, touching the rod sent waves of tension down the Saarebas’ spine. The Arvaarad had rarely punished his karataam, and never this particular Saarebas, but the device still commanded respect, even in its own death.

The Saarebas left the beach with great hesitation, torn between the two halves of his mind. He desired both the Qun and life, but he could not return to the Qun outside of his karataam. The knowledge left him with one choice: to live.

******

The Saarebas drifted up the seaside path, and when it met the main road he turned sightlessly toward the west. He did not choose his way; his feet carried him with little purpose or aim other than to survive. And for the following three days this remained true. Traveling parallel to the road but remaining just out of its sight, the Saarebas ate and drank only when the opportunity presented itself, and he did not stop to rest. It was commonplace in the kaarataam to walk for days without pause, and even the Arvaarad carried little more than the control rod and the clothing on his back.

It was nearing dawn of the fourth day when he first spotted signs of civilization. It was the distant figures moving along the water that caught his gaze, their lanterns bobbing and weaving as they moved through the darkness. He paused to watch them. As the rising sun climbed at his back, the figures boarded their vessels, and one by one they began to set sail. A fishing village, the Saarebas reasoned, turning toward the buildings that had previously been hidden by the darkness. Half nested in the woods, the village sat wide along the roadside; more buildings had been erected behind the tree line, as well as several corrals and opened-sided barns. It would not be long, he knew, before the village would fully wake.

His moment of stillness had allowed exhaustion to find him. It weighed down upon his body but still he did not stop, steering himself further into the trees. It was unlikely that his presence would be tolerated should the villagers discover him, especially if he strayed too near, but even being outside of the boundaries of the community would allow him some protection: if any danger came near, the villagers would quickly raise an alarm. He only needed to find a place to rest. Tomorrow he would face the price of his freedom.

[Lookie]

Quinn had gotten over his desire to run as far as he could and instead, had decided to catch his breath. He had always had his way with people, and the people of Nodway were willing to accept any faithful Andrastian with open arms. The village chantry had offered him food and a lodging for the night, the first Quinn had arrived. Three days later, he had found himself paying work and a more permanent place to stay; he had left a good impression on the owner of the local inn, a fine Orlesian woman by the name of Nadia, and as such, had no need to pay for his room for more than every other day. He had relaxed after another week had passed and he heard nothing of his pursuers. Perhaps they had decided he was not worth the effort, and the man couldn't deny the thought hurt his pride. Quinn had imagined the Coterie would have been more unwilling to let him go so easily, but to him it seemed he had less of a reason to be found any time soon.

It was nearing the end of his first month in the fishing village, and he was still working with the fisherman by the name of Gideon. The old man seemed to think him and Quinn had much in common, if his knowing laughter and elbowing were anything to go for. Quinn had introduced himself as a traveler, and when he hadn't disappeared within the first week, Gideon acted as if he already knew that he would never leave Nodway. Every day his work started and ended with the aggravating, knowing smirk of the old man.

This morning was no different, and as the sun still rose, the first thing he saw when he stepped to the shore was the face of the old man, much more awake than he was. Close by, the man's son, Reuben, was looking through the net, making sure it was well. Quinn had always been the kind to sleep whenever possible, while the man had grown up with this routine. Sleeping in would not be possible now or any time soon, unless he wished to stop making money. Gideon got along well with hard-working men, so Quinn had no chance to sit around. The old man was likely to throw you off the boat if you didn't do anything, or smack you in the face with a fish. Quinn was used to doing work he didn't enjoy, and in all honesty, fishing wasn't his dream job. But it was better than nothing, and that was enough of a reason to do his job as well as he could. The man had learned not to be too picky, not with work.

The fishers did not spend all their time on the sea, and while Quinn enjoyed the view and liked watching the sun rise as they got farther off the shore, the land under his feet felt good. Gideon and his son, with Quinn's help of course, had woken up before sunrise to set the drift nets in the water and pull them along the coast from morning until noon, and then returned, bringing as much fish with them as they possibly could. The waters on the coast of the small village were full of fish.
"A gift from the Maker," Gideon said as they pulled back to the shore, his voice hoarse, the Nevarran accent easily recognizable.
"You're so sure that the Maker has time for fish," Quinn asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. He already knew the answer, of course he did. Gideon seemed to find this little village the most blessed place in all of Thedas. Quinn though? His belief in the Maker and his Bride were as strong as anyone else's, but for Him to spend time to look after Nodway didn't make much sense.
"Of course!" Gideon said, voice eager and believing. For his own sake, Quinn simply shrugged and moved to help Reuben with the fish. It was better to get this over with for today. It wasn't Quinn's place to preserve the food, but getting the fish out of the boat was.

It had all become a routine Quinn had quickly learned to hate. There was a certain routine in being a smuggler too, but at least his previous work had its exciting moments. Fishing was surprisingly predictable. Quinn wondered if he had been spoiled rotten with his previous occupation. A part of him regretted leaving it all behind. Then again, having the smell of fish follow him everywhere was better than being dead.

Hefting the basket full of fresh fish to his arms, the man moved towards the small inn, where the fresh fish was usually preserved. Quinn's employer and his son quickly passed him, having no trouble with their own loads. Their luck had been better than usual today, and that meant he would be getting a few extra coins. The inn wasn't too far away from the shore, but it was enough to crash into more than a few familiar faces; old lady Mira was lecturing her adventurous grandson as usual, the ever-welcoming Finch twins giving him the most suspicious glare they could, studious little Blanche sending him a shy smile as the man pushed his way inside the building.

As he reached the inn and offered his basket to the impatient Reuben and gave a quick grin to Nadia who responded with a smile of her own, he realized that he was slowly but surely settling into the village. He knew the people, he even liked some of them. Nodway wasn't a bad place to live in, its arms open wide, without any real negative sides. The thought should have been comforting. Instead, Quinn had a hunch something bad was about to happen.

Everything always got a lot worse when things started looking up.

[Umbranox]

A startled gasp cut through the restless dreams, waking him, and the Saarebas twisted sharply toward the noise, silver eyes meeting fear-filled brown. They were frozen in that moment, the Qunari and the human child, and it wasn't until the Saarebas drew back that the child turned and ran. The Saarebas stood. Tension pulled at the broad muscles in his shoulders. After a moment of hesitation the Saarebas crept away, ignoring the instinctive urge to use magic.

He should have run. In time, he would recognize that fact. But the same instinct that had told him not to die refused his mind a chance to settle; the decision to leave the Qun suffocated him at every turn and thought, and in the end it was easier to allow that drive to command his every action than to think.

He would find another place to rest, and to wait.

But for what, he didn't know.

******

"Mama! Mama! In the woods! I saw a grey giant in the woods!"

"What's this nonsense now, child?" the woman crooned, only half listening as she wrung out her wash over the basin. She slapped the wet cloth hard against the air, and as she lent up to hang it the boy groaned, half in fear and half in exasperation.

"Mama! I saw it!" he began again, hurrying closer to her side. He tugged hard at her dress. "It was huge- bigger than Da!- and its skin was gray and horns were growing out of its head. Horns, Ma! And it was wearing chains and a giant collar-"

But her attention had been grabbed by the mention of horns. Her nostrils flared like that of a frightened doe, and she grabbed her child by the scruff of his neck and gave him a hard shake. "Now, lad!" she barked. "Is this a fancy of yours? Did you really see one of the gray giants?" She had heard stories about the Qunari. Never had she seen one with her own eyes, but the tales the traders and the village's own fisherman told had been enough to instill fear of the Qunari and their strange religion into her heart. "You tell me now, boy. You tell me, did you truly see one?"

"Yes, mama!"

She didn't hesitate. Grabbing him by the hand, she abandoned her wash and hurried across the village, dragging the boy behind her. Her aim was the inn; she knew that some, if not all, of the unofficial leaders of their village would be there shortly. She bustled past the men bringing in their catches, circling around to face one who had already settled at one of the long tables. "Sael! My son saw something in the woods today. Tell him what you told me, child!" she snapped. Her anger and unease did nothing to reassure the boy, but he was eleven and nearly a man, and as he turned toward the village elder he drew a deep breath; with a face a stony as his mother's, he repeated what he had told his mother, recounting how he had come across a giant in the woods, a giant with gray skin and blunted horns, wearing chains and a heavy collar unlike any he had ever seen.

The village elder, Sael, gazed evenly at the boy and did not speak. Even when the boy finished his tale he said nothing, merely turned his head and nodded to one of the younger women at his table; she nodded once in return as she stood and swept quietly away, grabbing up her a bow and quiver from beside her chair as she went.

"This far along the coast, Sael?" another woman said, quietly. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Since when have those Qunari made any sense, Daula? You heard about that lot of 'em up in Kirkwall, yeah? What sense is that, waiting to be rescued in a city full of ships? No, lass." The second man shook his head, scowling. "Either the boy saw nothing, or there's a whole party of those grey bastards skulking around the town."

"I doubt that," Sael intervened, quietly. "The Qunari are strange in their ways, but for a group to remain around the borders of a village that has nothing to offer them? No.... It doesn't seem right. But it's best to be certain."

******

The hunter returned within hours, impeded by the time of day and the rising darkness. Still, her report was thorough and boded ill to the mind of the villagers.

"I found footprints where the boy said he saw the thing." She held up her hands, the tips of her long fingers against the base of her palm. "It was over three lengths of my hand. Nearer to four. I've never seen a man with feet so large. The print was deep, too. I'd say the creature weighs near twenty stones."

"Twenty?"

"Impossible."

"I followed the tracks as far as I could, but lost them on the rocks across one of the creeks. I checked the area." She shook her head. "I don't think there's more than one, if it really is a Qunari, it's alone. I found footprints of normal size, as well as those probably belonging to the boy, but none in the same area. I would like to continue my search in the morning, though, to be certain."

"And you shall. Do not go alone when you do. Take two others with you, the best we have. And if you do find the Qunari, or signs of a larger group, report back to me. Instigating an attack would be most unwise."

"But, Sael! Should we not hunt it down tonight? With the darkness on our side, surely we can find the flush the beast from hiding."

"This is not a deer to be hunted, Malcolm, and the night will be his friend as much as it is ours. No, we'll wait."

Guards would be posted throughout the night. The town would hardly sleep. But they would wait, with the patience only a small village could possess.

[Lookie]

When the next morning came around, the tense atmosphere in Nodway hadn't disappeared. Three of Nodway's best trackers went to look for the Qunari as the rest of the village tried to concentrate on their work. Even the possibility of having a large group of Qunari so near Nodway made most of the villagers terrified. Many of them turned to the chantry, sending small prayers to the Maker, hoping it would keep the fishing village safe from any group of heretics. Together with most other fishers, Gideon left the shore after stopping by the chantry, as the town still needed to make the money. Quinn had been recruited as a guard, as his skill with the dagger was well known. That meant he would be staying on the shore until all this had been figured out. Quinn didn't really mind the arrangement, but the nervous air around the people made him feel even more on edge. No-one had expected to meet Qunari this far off Kirkwall. Weren't they waiting to be rescued? Moving so far from the city seemed like a sure way to miss the ship.

The guards had split in pairs as to keep one another safe, though Quinn wasn't too certain how safe he would be. His partner Samwell walked ahead, hands close to his sword, his already wide eyes even larger as they searched through the forest, his whole body alert and ready for action. Quinn followed the older man with a more relaxed pace. The business with the Qunari might have put him on edge, but he had never been one to show it when he got nervous. Samwell on the other hand, was visibly twitchy. Many knew he was very paranoid to begin with, and knowing Nodway was threatened made him even jumpier. The man knew how to use his sword, but his twitchy behavior made Quinn uncomfortable.

"You should calm down Sam," he spoke up, keeping his distance. The anxious bald man glanced towards him, a worried frown on his face. Quinn responded with an expectant smile. "It's good to stay alert right now, friend, but you look like a man ready to stab at anything that moves."

The other man frowned at that. "I am?" Seemingly catching himself, Samwell sighed and searched the woods. He was still alert, but far less twitchy than before.

"Can you blame me? You hear horrible stories about those things." Quinn hummed in response, nodding. The man had never felt much affection towards the grey giants. Their arrival had also made smuggling more difficult and dangerous, as both the templars and city guard were on edge after the Qunari crashed on the shore. The smugglers Quinn had been part of before had tried to turn their arrival to their advantage, of course. His leader, a short, muscular woman by the name of Faolan, had done her best to find a way to get a group of the Tal-Vasoth to join them. The result wasn't what his dear leader had hoped for, losing two good men in the resulting fight. Quinn had thought the idea to be stupid from the start, but their leader had never had much common sense. That was probably why they had ended up working with slavers.

"Catri said it's just one Qunari. I'm sure we'll be able to take down one of them," Quinn replied, confident, before his lips twisted into an amused smile. "Maybe he's lost, all we'll need to do is point him away from the village."

"I don't trust them," Samwell grumbled, ignoring his partners amused tone. "We should kill it, just to be sure. We're lucky Theodore was able to escape."

Quinn's response was interrupted before he could even open his mouth, as a small snapping sound came from the forest. He hadn't noticed it before now, but the sun was starting to set, making the forest much more shady and unwelcoming. Next to him, Samwell stiffened, hands finding his sword again.

"Come out!" Samwell yelled, a panicked edge on his voice. He shuffled on his place as three figures closed in on them. Quinn, however, was already lifting a welcoming hand to the three.

"Calm yourself, Samwell," a familiar voice spoke as the three trackers stepped in their view, all of them clearly tired of the days work. Catri lifted her slender hand at the sight of the two guardsmen, sending them an exhausted smile. With an embarrassed look on his face, Samwell did his best to relax again as Quinn sent them a happy grin.

"So," he started, pausing for a moment, as he looked through the trackers. "Did you find anything?" Catri shook her head, a deep frown settling on her face.

"We looked for more tracks, but we weren't able to find more tracks besides the ones I found yesterday," she said, voice professional. "I think I'm right on saying that there was only Qunari here. Who knows, the giant might have moved away when the boy noticed him," the woman seemed a little disappointed at that. She had probably wanted to track the Qunari down and see it in her own eyes, had seen it as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"We should still keep our guard up, just to be certain. We should talk through the details with Sael," the hunter continued, glancing at her the Finch twins, who nodded in agreement, moving ahead.

"We'll send for the night guards," Catri said before moving to follow the twins.

Thankfully, the wait wasn't a long one, Quinn and Samwell quickly went their separate ways. Glad that the day had gone by without any incidents, Quinn moved towards the inn. He would definitely need the rest, and something to eat too. But his energetic march to the building was quickly slowed down by something he hadn't expected to see at the end of the day.

A group of four men, well armed and just standing there, in front of the inn. Waiting. Quinn hesitated for a moment before turning around, casually walking out of their sights, hiding behind a building opposite to the inn. From the lack of commotion, the man guessed the group hadn't noticed him. He wasn't blind or stupid; the shield one of the men held carried a mark familiar to him. Slavers, and not just any group. These were from the same Quinn had stabbed in the back. He knew there hadn't been much hope for him to stay in Nodway for too long. He was too close to both Cumberland and Kirkwall. Why in the name of Andraste had he stayed here? With a disgruntled look on his face, Quinn glanced back towards the inn. The men hadn't moved anywhere. It was possible that they had someone inside too, and Quinn wasn't going to risk getting caught by these bastards.

All his things were inside the inn though, aside from the clothes in his back, his daggers and a few coins in his pocket. With a heavy sigh, the mans hands brushed through his dark hair, his frown deepening. He would be best off not catching their attention, anyone's attention. Shaking his head, the man turned away from the inn and moved towards the forest instead, doing his best to make sure no-one was following him. Quinn wasn't particularly sad about leaving, as he knew it would happen sooner or later. He had, however, hoped he could have had the time to gather his equipment. From now on he would carry everything he needed with him, no matter where he went.

No villager noticed him when we walked out of the small fishing village of Nodway. He probably could have left a message somewhere, as to know that he had left, though Quinn wasn't thinking on more than survival then and he wasn't one to regret things like that. He didn't even notice it, but he walked almost the same path as the Qunari. The man didn't forget about the existence of the Qunari either, of course not. He didn't have a death-wish. But when it came to a choice between getting caught and tortured by a group of slavers with no morals and fighting an ox-man... he suspected he'd have more of a chance with the Qunari.