2 years ago
“So.” A familiar female voice rung out, extending the vowel for several seconds. “What have you got now?”

Meeting her intent gaze, Caius Valesse put the large book down with a heavy thump on the solid wooden table. “A free period, actually. I’ll find a quiet place to read and study some heavy Thaumaturgy. Or perhaps some summoning.”

The raven haired beauty before him waggled a finger back and forth, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “Better make sure the Templars don’t find you. Otherwise…”

Mood souring, Caius rose and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Chin up, Miri. You have more pressing matters to think about.” He gestured towards the door of the classroom. “Come on, i’ll walk you up.”

“Thank you.” As she reached the corridor, Miriam realised just how much worry was tangled up inside after being encouraged by her friend. Thinking dark thoughts definitely was not the way to go about completing the trial ahead, but the gall of the Templars pissed her off. Anger was an emotion that was useful, to boot. “I still think it’s pathetic that we need to hide our research from those walking soup bowls.”

The jibe drew a warm smile from Caius, as it conjured an amusing mental image. “Especially because the books themselves were provided by the First Enchanter, forbidden or no.” Becoming lost in thought, he stared off into space for several moments, mulling over memories. “I wonder if Knight-Commander Fielding knows about the Enchanter’s treasure room.”

Bursting out laughing, Miriam’s face lit up. “Maker’s Breath, could you imagine his reaction if he doesn’t? A thing of beauty, to be sure!”

It had been a long time since the two of them had bantered back and forth like this, and deep down, Miriam knew it was her fault. They had been part of a small group of five mages, who had formed a study group. Together, the mages had accelerated each other’s learning by bouncing ideas and study notes off one another. As a result, First Enchanter Lucillia had given them several ancient magical books to study as extra credit, to not let those old talents die.

The books, of course, contained forbidden magical practices. Blood-related thaumaturgy, demon summoning and binding, guides on true names and magic circle theories, shapeshifting. The list went on. Should the Templars find them practicing those arts, or even studying them, it would be an instant death penalty. Despite knowing that, the group took the risk.

Only three of them remained, now.

Finding her mind clouded with sorrow, Miriam instead ignored that part of the tragedy, focusing instead on her raw hatred for the Templars who had taken their friends. It was that emotion which would allow for the successful passing of her Harrowing. The pair stood in front of the large, heavy wooden doors leading into the highest point of the Circle tower. A Templar escort has followed them for the last several moments of the journey, a requirement for reaching the Harrowing Chamber.

Minutes dragging on, the pair stood in silence, not daring to discuss any form or research or even crack a joke, lest it be met with a blade. Templars could rarely be trusted at the best of times, but many rumours circulated about beatings and outright murder comminuted by Templars to mages when no witnesses could testify. It was part of the reason he had offered to walk her up. After an eternity, the doors creaked open.

An aged, but not quite old, man walked into the corridor. His salt-and-pepper hair messed and frayed, looking extremely stressed as always. The large armour looked clunky, as all Templar armour did, but this possessed all the adornments worth of a Knight-Commander.

“Miriam Blackwood. Need I remind you that this test is to be taken alone?” Fielding’s voice boomed down the corridor, echoing off the empty spaces, despite the two mages standing only a few feet away.

She shot him a dark look. “No,” came the curt reply. Sensing the air of tension, Caius stepped in to diffuse the situation.

“It is a pleasure to see you, too, Knight-Commander.” The Templar glared coldly at the man. “Fear not, I only came to offer moral support for the journey.”

“Perhaps that time would be better spent preparing for your own Harrowing.”

That was a very valid point. Caius’s Harrowing was scheduled for a mere hour after Miriam's ended, at the specific behest of the First Enchanter. He was more than confident, however. “Your concern is touching.” Turning to the woman, he playfully batted the braided length of hair reaching down from the left side of her head. “Don’t forget the essentials. Other than that, knock them dead.”

A determined look set into her face. “Naturally.”

Fielding led her away into the Chamber, as Caius decided it was high-time to get some breakfast.

---

Just over an hour later, the First Enchanter gently tapped Caius on the shoulder, startling him despite her best attempts to avoid doing so. Miriam’s Harrowing was over, and in a short while, it would be his turn. Lucillia didn’t say whether or not she had succeeded the trial or not, and the two were not allowed to meet again until after the completion of his own. Apparently they couldn’t be trusted to not tell the other everything about the secret test.

Whatever makes them say that? Caius thought to himself, giving a light chuckle.

So for the second time in as many hours, he was waiting outside of the Harrowing Chamber. The Knight-Commander called for him. Enormous couldn’t even begin to describe the sheer scale of the room. It was as big as three full classrooms, and even taller. There was nothing contained within, except a small pedestal in the center of the room, surrounded by various degrees of magic circles. 4 Templars stood, even spaced out around the center, accompanied by the First Enchanter. Fielding led Caius to the pedestal, before taking his place in the empty spot at the head of the ring of people.

In the emptiness, his booming voice echoed off of every single surface, seemingly all at once. “‘Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.’ Thus spoke the Prophet Andraste as she cast down the Magisters of the Tevinter Imperium.” He spoke, robotically, as though reading from a script. Which he was, at that stage. Caius had heard the Chant of Light more times than he could possibly count. More times than he had books, even.

“It is for this reason that a test such as the Harrowing exists. To root out those mages with dark and twisted intentions like those Imperium. The test you will face is a simple one. You will be sent into the Fade, and there awaits a demon. You are to slay this demon, and return here. Do this, and you pass your trial.”

Fielding’s voice grew hard, and something tinged it. Whether it was anger, or something altogether deeper, was impossible to tell. “Should you take too long in the Fade, my Templars will cut you down where you stand upon returning. Which is favourable. Should you fail to kill the demon, it will possess your body, turn you into a hideous abomination through a process which is extremely painful, and then I will cut you down where you stand.” Silence fell over the room, as Caius took in exact what the task entailed. The Knight-Commander met his incredulous gaze. “Good luck.”

Giving a small sigh, Lucilia spoke softly. “Must you constantly attempt to scare the apprentices, Fielding?” Her brilliant green eyes fell on the young man. “I am allowed to offer each participant a single piece of advice, so listen closely, as I cannot repeat it.”

“The Fade is the realm of dreams. While the spirits and demons may control it, your own will cannot be discounted.” A knowing smile danced across her lips. “I know you’ll be absolutely fine. When you are ready, touch the lyrium, and cast the spell.”

Caius looked at the translucent cyan liquid contained within a small bowl on the pedestal. Liquid lyrium. Volatile stuff, but when used to cast spells, it made the process a whole lot easier. A novice Evocationer could pull a meteor out the sky using this stuff as a focus. Dipping his hand in the liquid, the mage shut his eyes and called up every ounce of focus within him. Concentrating on merging his corporeal and incorporeal forms, throwing his soul out into the Fade and pulling the body along for the ride. Entering the Fade was easy, you simply went to sleep. Doing it while still conscious required a lot of magical power. Drawing magic circles in his mind to focus the power, in addition to the ones on the floor designed for this kind of spell. his eyes opened once more.

“Fracturam!”

---

The effect was instantaneous, but despite all his intense calculation, Caius had forgotten one small thing.

His positioning in the Fade.

So after falling several feet, he landed with a thud on the earth below him. Mumbling to himself like a typical brooding mage, Caius got up and dusted his robe off. Taking in the scenery, the sky was a swirling dark green cloud, circling a point in the distance. Rumour had it, underneath the eye of that eternal storm rested The Black City. Gathering energy, the muscles within his body began to twitch and twinge.

“Lupun.” Skin began to shift, and the mage hunched over, dropping to his hand and knees in pain. Hair began to sprout from every pour, coarse and rugged. Less than 10 seconds after speaking the word, a wolf was left in place of the mage. Giving a howl of delight, Caius took off as fast as his four legs could carry him.

Running for several moments, a white light appeared ahead. Slowing, the wolf took a couple of careful sniffs at the orb of light, which promptly exploded. White wings sprawled out from it’s center, as the rest began to slowly congeal into the form of a man. He started at the wolf with curiosity.

“A wol-. No. A human mage.” A warm smile took over the shining figure’s face. Shifting back into his natural form in a small flare of light, Caius stood and stared at the figure.

“Impressive. How did you know?”

The smile grew even larger. “It is my prerogative to know things, child.” Hairs standing up on the back of his neck, the mage dropped into a slightly defensive stance at that remark. Raising it’s hand, the figure spoke, softly. “Relax, I am no demon. Rather, a spirit. One of wisdom, to be precise.”

The mage watched, not moving, waiting for the spirit to strike, yet it did not come. It frowned. “Forgive me, I am aware human perceptions of us are almost certainly wrong. You are in no danger from me. However, ahead lies a demon, and they will not be as considerate towards you.”

“A demon? That’s what I’m here for then.” The spirit smiled again, giving a small nod.

“I suspected as much. Please allow me to accompany you, I wish to learn from you.”

Caius thought for a moment, but didn’t see the harm in it. The spirit was intriguing, and he wished to learn for it, as well. “Very well, let’s get going.”

---

True to the word of Wisdom, a short way up the winding path, a demon stood atop a pile of corpses. Various creatures made up the mound, from humans to cows. The demon itself was large and fat, with oily black-green skin, and it was devouring the bodies with extreme enthusiasm. From the books at the Tower, Caius identified it as a demon of Gluttony. Wisdom agreed. Stopping eating its meal, Gluttony sniffed the air whirling round to see the mage. It let rip a shrill roar, before beginning to barrel in his direction.

Willing his staff to appear, it vanished from his back and materialised before him. Grabbing the length of wood, Caius twirled it, calling up energy from within. He leveled the staff at the demon, giving a thunderous cry. “Vis!” An unseen wave of energy hit the charging monster, impacting with an audible bang. Gluttony was picked up and smashed into it’s dinner pile. The air was filled with the sound of squelching flesh and the smell of rotten meat.

Dark yellow eyes burned out from inside the pile, as a rumbling sound reverberated through the very earth itself. “Mage. I am going to savour you, food tastes best when the meal yet lives.” It began to charge again, in the exact same way before. Caius scoffed.

“It isn’t very smart, is it?”

The spirit smiled beside him. “It is a demon of Gluttony, human. Being smart is my job.”

Grin spreading from ear to ear, Caius collected energy again, connected a circle within his head. “You hungry, big guy?” Pouring power into that circle, he picked a spot on the floor just in front of his feet. The demon continued. More and more energy flowed into the circle, right up until the demon was a mere 10 feet away.

“Petra dens.”

The ground erupted from that point, the dirt collecting together into a single solid mass with a tiny point. A huge drill-like structure lunged forward, meeting Gluttony. It pierced through it’s body at around chest-level, before continuing until the top and bottom half were no longer connected. The head - and one arm - came to rest several feet behind them, as the body slumped down the large earthen spear.

Wisdom blinked several times. “Well, that was new.”

“You liked that?” The mage asked, respectfully containing laughter.

“It was very impressive.” A few thoughtful moments passed. “I have a proposition for you, mage. Let me accompany you back to the real world, beyond the Veil. I ask for no control over you, only that you let me view the world through your own eyes. In return, I offer my collected Wisdom.”

Caius stopped dead in his tracks. Well it certainly isn’t a demon, he thought. Demons tricked you to allow possession, they never asked bluntly. It was rumoured that they physically couldn’t. Drumming his fingers on the staff, he considered all the possible implications. Deep down, though, there was only one answer. Regardless of the potential risks, Caius was never one to turn down knowledge.

“Very well, spirit. I look forward to seeing your wisdom.”

It smiled, outstretching a hand, which Caius shook. In an instant, the spirit was gone. A small problem made itself known, however. His fierce auburn hair was now snow white. A sneaking suspicion that the Templars might notice suddenly flooded the young man’s system.

“Oh Maker.” Maybe he could explain it. Maybe they wouldn’t kill him. Maybe the darkspawn weren’t evil. Maybe the moon was made of silver.

Maybe.

Caius took a deep breath, before walking through the rift back into the Harrowing Chamber.

---

The mage instantly dropped into a defensive stance, a shimmering silver shield rippling into being. Eyes tightly shut, he waited for a sword that never came. A spell which was never cast. Magic canceling that wasn’t approaching. Opening his eyes, slowly, what he saw shocked him more than anything had in his entire life.

The room was empty.

Something had caused the most senior authority members in the Circle to abandon watching over the Harrowing, and they had taken the Templar guard with them. Caius could have walked out as an Abomination and no-one would be any the wiser. The fact that he actually had done something similar was proof of that. The air smelled faintly of sulphur, from elsewhere in the tower. After waiting a few moments without anyone returning, he began to move. Wisdom was silent within, despite the mage’s attempt to communicate. In order to reach the Harrowing Chamber, you need to pass through the Templar barracks. The same, then, is true for returning from it. A metallic twang filled the corridor leading to it. Upon opening the door, Caius lost his breakfast.

13 Templars lay strewn about the room. Some lay peacefully, simply dead on the floor. Others weren’t so lucky. Their armour had been rended completely. It was bent outward, covered with blood and other organic matter, the Templars having been burst from the inside out. More had deep incisions, something had cut straight through the steel armour with large claw-like weapons. A thin layer of blood covered the entire floor. Closing his eyes, the young mage ran through the room, blindly and almost slipping. Slamming the door closed behind him, it took several seconds to get his breathing back under control.

Forcing the sight out of his mind, he walked off once more. It wasn’t an isolated incident, however. Templars and mages both lay dead everywhere. The bodies of the Templars were mangled almost beyond recognition, the wounds on the mages much less so. It actually looked as though the mages had been killed by Templars. Caius began to run through the corridors, heading for his room to collect the books. At the same time, he looked for any survivors, to no avail. Entering his room, on the floor in the center was Zafira. That left only two remaining members of their study group, he hoped beyond hope that Miriam was alive.

Grabbing the bag containing the forbidden books, he headed for the one place that escape from the tower was possible, without blowing a hole in the wall. The old magical mirror in the basement. Lucilla had called it an Eluvian. On the way down, however, he found the body of the First Enchanter. A Templar sword lodged in her back. Blood boiling, the Templars better pray they were all dead.

Skidding round the corner of the basement, an almighty demon stood between him and the Eluvian. It was around 15 foot tall, it’s scales shimmered blue, purple and green in equal measures. Impressively-sized horns rested on it’s head. A mighty blade made of scales jutted out from each elbow. Many, many eyes fell on Caius, as the demon of Pride laughed. The guttural sound seemed to pollute the very air.

“Come little mage. Let us play before my master returns.” Slowly, the hairs on Caius’s arm began to stand on end as the air became charged with static energy. It condensed in the demon’s hand into a large ball made of pure purple lightning. As it began to hurtle towards the mage, a loud bang accompanied it. Grabbing his staff with both hands, one at the top, one at the bottom, Caius slanted it and lowered his profile, left foot sticking out.

“Clypeus.” The words spoke, shreds of energy condensed into a shield exactly the same as had been used in the Harrowing Chamber. Without time, given the speed of the attack, or focus, having been taken off-guard by a Pride demon in the bloody Circle tower, the shield was weak. Lightning ball slamming into it, the energy instantly began to buckle against the purple sparks flying off the intruding mass of energy.

A soft voice, barely a whisper spoke. “Allow me, mage.” Silver shimmering energy turned opaque alabaster white, doubling in size. Wisdom utilised the small shield in the most efficient way possible, increasing the potency greatly. The lightning ball exploded, bathing the room in a brilliant light.

A great smile spread across Pride’s face. “I see y-”

“Ardens.” A great spiralling double-helix of fire scorched through the space between the mage and demon. It crashed into the chin of Pride, sending the hulking beast stumbling backwards. “Oluem.” Midnight-black, a glob of liquid landed on the floor underneath the demon’s feet. A puddle of oil very quickly expanded over the corridor, causing Pride to slip. An lick of flame hit the oil, setting it completely ablaze.

The monster yelled in pain, and the doors to the basement proper flew open in a blast of wind strong enough to extinguish every ounce of fire in a single blow by dragging it physically off of the oil. An impressive feat. Not surprising, given who cast it. The sound of high-heel clicked out from the basement. Her eyes lit up.

“Caius! You passed your Harrowing!” Miriam’s smile was large, extending across her entire face.

The young man scowled. “You didn’t.”

That brilliant smile faded slowly, replaced by a darker expression. “C-. I-. How could you? That hurts. You seriously think I’m possessed?”

“If the shoe fits. Here you are in the basement of a tower filled with dead and dying mages, accompanying a Pride demon.” His voice dripped with venom. “What else am I supposed to think, Miri?!”

She looked over the demon, who was now standing again. Several of the scales were damaged and burnished by the intensity of the flames. “It dances to my tune, I’m the one holding the flute.” Pride gave a small smirk. “I found it during my Harrowing. It promised to give me the tools I wanted to change the face of this pathetic world, asking only in return that I use them.”

Voice gradually growing in both resolve and confidence, she monologues. “Can’t you see how we have been living? Like animals locked up and forgotten about. With this power, I can finally show the people just how entitled those fools really are. The elves are kept in sealed-off sections of the city like vermin. Mages are even worse, in cages outside the cities. The poor live in run-down warrens, abandoned by the gentry. Guess who is left? Rich humans. They lord their power over everyone, oppress everything. By the Fade, the dwarves realised this and fucked off underground! Preferring to deal with everlasting darkspawn than blighted humans!”

Caius shouted, a rarity for him. “Are you quite finished? I cannot believe what I am hearing. You plan to, what, wipe out the human race from Thedas?” His hand trembled on the staff, shaking with anger at what his friend had become.

“Not all of them. Just enough to make them realise. Starting with the Templars.” Miriam stared hard at the floor. “I’ll make them all pay for taking our friends from us.” Gaze falling on the young man once again, her voice broke slightly. “Come with me. Help me change this land.”

“No. I will have no part in your twisted plan. The Templars call us monsters, and you are going to play right into their hands.” Raising the staff towards Miriam, the Pride demon stepped between the two. “I-. Don’t make me stop you.”

Her face said more than words ever could, just as well, because she couldn’t find any words. It hurt beyond compare. “I refuse to strike down someone whom I call friend. If you can, go ahead.” Miriam turned, heading into the basement. Caius’s hand trembled. “One way or the other. This is goodbye.”

Staff aimed towards the door, he watched her walk off, willing himself to fire. The demon couldn’t stop a wealth of attacks. Landing a blow was entirely possible. Despite that, he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it. Pride walked off, and a growing resonating chime drifted out from the room beyond. It flared, and fell silent.

The length of wood clattered to the floor, as Caius lost feeling in his legs. Propping himself against a wall, the young man sat, limply. Hundreds of things whizzed through his mind. Spells, calculations studies. Anything to prevent recent events from being there. A soft voice whispered in his mind. “That was not the ideal solution to that situation.” Wisdom was right, definitely, but that was the problem with humans. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Several minutes later, clunks could be heard from the stairs round the corner, despite Caius being too zoned-out to notice. A man, armour buckled and shredded, blood dripping from various places, rounded the corner. Seeing the young mage, the man clattered into the wall and slid down it to sit beside him, and Caius finally noticed someone was there.

“Spellbind bastards, the lot of you.” Knight-Commander Fielding coughed up blood, and winced. It was clear the man was dying, and healing those wounds would be far outside of Caius’s skill level. Especially since healing was an area that never interested him. “You have to find her. Lucillia told me about the books. My Templars couldn’t stop her. Nor could the mages. Please. Do something.”

Caius could only nod.

“Thank you. I need one last favour. Destroy the basement before you leave. It contains too many artifacts. Do that for me, and I won’t even ask why your hair turned white.” Fielding laughed, which turned into a cough and groan.

The young mage stood. “Alright.” He walked into the basement, and began to close the doors. As they banged shut, Caius placed his head on it. “I’m sorry.”

Approaching the big glass cabinet holding the mage phylacteries, he scanned through them all until one caught his eye.

The label read ‘Miriam Blackwood’.

Taking the vial, he angled the staff towards the cabinet. “Vis!” A glass foot flew off from the whole, as the entire thing buckled and fell. Vials broke and shattered, flooding the floor with blood. Looking over the artifacts, Caius took a parting gift. A staff crafted from white wood, with a large green gem on the top, held in place by the twisted wood. Placing a hand on the Eluvian, he pushed a small amount of energy into it, allowing it to activate. Stepping through would send him into a part of the Fade when all Eluvians overlapped. From there, the possibilities could be limitless. A shimmer of multi-coloured light washed over the mirror.

Watching the blood cover the floor, slowly, Caius recalled a lesson one of the summoning books had taught him. “Demons are spirits whose purpose has been perverted. Purpose can be twisted to Desire. Wisdom is only a bad attitude away from Pride.” A smile crept over his lips.

“Hey. What is your Name?”

Whispering inside his head, the spirit replied. “Call me Syviis.”

Caius raised the staff, slamming the base on the floor. “Sanguinem Satani.” The young mage stepped through the portal, as the Eluvian deactivated. Blood began to congeal into orbs, rising up and floating to waist height. Several seconds later, every orb exploded sending microscopic razor-sharp blood needles into the surface of everything within the room, destroying all glass, including the mirror. It warped and blasted the artifacts up into the air, causing a few more volatile items to explode in turn. When the dust had settled, a silence fell over the Circle tower. Silence that marked the ending of a chapter.

But the beginning of a story.

Celica sat in the Warden camp, drinking some herbal tea made by a delightful elf trying to lighten the spirits after another horrific night. Shrieks had attempted to take them by surprise again - like they had a week prior, resulting in many deaths - but had failed due to detections webs set up to cover the path down into the dark. Seeing their failed trap, the darkspawn sent another wave of combatants instead, until they could almost drown in Genlocks.

It had been hard, but over the first two weeks, the Gray Wardens had set up a wooden spike wall around the hole, leaving only a single path in or out. At the top of that path was their encampment. Scattered tents, benches, weapon racks and bags littered the area. People wandered around, looking like zombies. Sleep was one commodity that was in short supply. The darkspawn assaults had been almost endless, drawing back to recover their strength before charging once more. Several mercenaries had arrived over the last few days, at least, so holding out wasn’t completely impossible.

The Warden-Commander grimaced. Just highly unlikely.

Through the air drifted the scent of burning flesh, from the pyres at the mouth of the camp. Any dead had to be burned, to prevent the darkspawn corruption from infecting the living via the corpses, but it was never a pleasant job. Especially at supper time.

Across the table from her, sat a young Tevinter mercenary. The man ate a bowl of soup with bread with incredible speed, and her stomach rumbled slightly. Mages were on double rations, due to the massive amount of energy they consumed when casting spells. Celica couldn’t complain, though, because those very spells were the only reason any of them were still alive in the first place. If it wasn’t for his detection webs, many people would have died last night. As they had a week ago.

Rising, Celica made her way outside, fearing the smell of food would cause her to vomit. The first attack involving shrieks had cost a third of their soldiers, and was the reason they now relied on mercenaries. Sleeping was hard enough with the constant attacks, throw the nightmares on top and it became an impossible task.

Looking over the hole, the Warden-Commander shuddered. Maker knows what’s down there. It was certainly impressive in size, and the ground sloped down into it in the form of a long natural pathway, vanishing into a tunnel at the end. Wooden barricades had been set up in three lines, slowing any darkspawn assault while they broke them down or circumvented them. Beyond those, lay various unseen magical traps and detection webs. The soldiers had, for want of a better name, took to calling it The Verge. Even further down was an old dwarven thaig, apparently, but you couldn’t see it from here. A handful of smaller holes were dotted around the big one, and Celica had to guess the thaig was visible from one of those. Luckily, darkspawn couldn’t climb, so no defense was necessary for them.

Sun setting over the horizon, a steady rumble could be heard. It seemed to vibrate through the very ground. Despite her heavy black armour, Celica took off like a bolt of lightning towards her tent.

“Darkspawn! Get ready!” The woman quickly grabbed her sword and shield, running to the top of the path, behind the barricades. People from all over scrambled to get their equipment, tripping over in the rush. A shield-wall formed beside Celica, behind them stood the bulk of the soldiers present. On the ridges either side of the descending path, archers lined the walls. Several more rested atop wooden towers at the very top of The Verge. Behind the soldiers, mages waited to heal wounds or summon The Maker’s wrath, depending on circumstances. At the very back, three mages waited. Two belonged to the Warden’s ranks, and the third was the Tevinter boy from earlier. Each stood within a very elaborate magical circle, waiting to see if reinforcements would be required. Celica could only pray they weren’t.

At first, she couldn’t figure out why the darkspawn had attacked earlier. Waiting until night had worked well for them, as reduced visibility was an issue. Soldiers had taken steps to prevent that, however, setting up lamps and oil that could be set fire to in extreme cases. It made sense that the darkspawn simply didn’t want to wait. Attacking later wouldn’t give them any advantages, now.

Standing in the shield-wall, the reason was painfully obvious. The sun was setting, and blinding the troops. It would have been just as easy to fight blind. One of the nearby mages gave a small chuckle, as he too realised the situation.

“Clever, clever creatures.” Raising his hand to the sky, a single word droned over the soldiers. “Orage.” A peel of thunder cracked overhead, as clouds circled and grew overhead. The storm covered the entire sky, obscuring the low sun.

The sound of marauding feet grew closer. Rocketing explosions sounded from below, accompanied by now-visible splashes of light from the magical traps just inside the mouth of The Verge. Darkspawn poured from the deep, Hurlocks and Genlocks numbering hundreds. As they approached the barricade, Celica commanded the archers to get ready.

However, the enemies didn’t stop to break down the obstacle. The first Hurlocks to reach them simply dived onto the spiked wood, driving it deep into their flesh. From the injuries sustained, they died almost instantly. Surviving darkspawn then using the bodies of their dead comrades to climb over the barricades without delay. Giving a repeat performance on the second and third sets of spikes, the advancing army soon had a clear shot at the Warden camp. The display of selfless and violent sacrifice unnerved Celica, enough to give an order the three mages at the back were waiting for.

“Start the summoning! The rest of you, with me.” Giving a slight smile, the mages began weaving the spells. For everyone else, they stormed forward to meet the darkspawn. Celica met a Hurlock head-on, blocking a slash from it’s sword, before beheading it in one clean sweep.

Circles began to glow underneath each of the mages. Summoning forth magical creatures and sustaining their form in the rain was going to damn hard. Gathering the power needed, the mages spoke the Name of their target, and several shapes took form under the flickering firelights. One of the less confident Wardens summoned forth a Greater Shade, a writhing mass of shadow. The Tevinter boy called forth a demon of Despair, which looked like a small child huddled in a dark cowl. In a bright pink flash, the final Warden called forth a Desire demon. Bounding into the fray, the three demons each pressed the defense in different ways.

Despair began to call icy blasts of power, freezing darkspawn solid in the rain. Blazing hot lances of fire came from Desire, passionate and powerful. The Shade danced around the battlefield, taking potshots and hampering the enemy. Meanwhile, the soldiers clashed in close combat with their foe. Noise of the battle roared out, and no-one heard the approaching monstrosity.

An ogre bolted out of the shadows towards the barricades, aiming to crash straight on through. Celica noticed the giant too late to respond.

But she didn’t need to.

Silently sailing through the air, an arrow crashed into the ogre’s kneecap. Hitting the bullseye, the wooden shaft jammed between the two bones which connected at that joint. Without even having time to react, the beast crashed down on top of the first barricade. The source of the arrows was Celica’s second-in-command in Ferelden. Giving her commander a curt nod, she returned to scanning the field for other high-profile threats. A Warden mage began to exercise control over the black ichor that served as blood within darkspawn. It covered the battlefield, and made for an impressive weapon. Wordlessly focusing the power, ichor tendrils rose from the ground. They wrapped around the fallen ogre, restricting its ability to get back up, despite it’s best attempt. Hunched over, one tendril grasped the neck of the beast, and a second mage froze the liquid in place with a single word.

Running up the solid blood, a drunken, fiery-haired dwarf flew into the air. “Eat my axe, you thunderhumping son-of-a-whore!” The sickening sound of cracking bone filled the air, as a giant two-handed axe drove straight down into the ogre’s skull. Oghren gave a triumphant yell, as the Desire demon appeared behind him. It caressed his cheek, before planting a soft kiss on the lips of the ogre. In a flare of light, it was gone. Stirring to life once again, the darkspawn rumbled and stood, giving a bloodcurdling roar.

The darkspawn army were clearly taken aback by this sudden flip in the flow of the battle. Routing, some began to flee, until a second wave of attackers rushed from the deep. Behind this much larger auxiliary force came two Hurlock Alphas, three Genlock Alphas, and two additional ogres. Celica watched over the scene with disbelief.

Ah. She thought. This is going to be one of those nights.

Daeron cursed, he'd arrived in Denerim only to learn that all Warden were alright out at a forward camp. So getting Storm Beak's armor on her and extra quiver or two of arrows he left quickly. He flew fast, Beaky was ripping through the skies, he saw peasants staring up as they made good time. He locked his boots into Beaky's saddle as he spotted the camp up ahead. "Beaky, flip girl!" With that she turned upside down and closed her wings bring them into a dive bomb towards the camp. Elf smiled drawing arrows from his side quiver he fired in to one of the two Ogre's he saw closing in one on the camp.

Daeron hadn't gotten to fight like this in a long time, it was time to test out his training with Storm Beak. "Up and Off!" She spread her wings slowing them down as he clipped his bow back into place along his back, drawing his sword and shield he freed his boots from the saddle she flipped once more and Daeron fell downwards, right towards a pincushion of an Ogre. He blade buried deep in his back as he slid down it's back using the beast to slow his fall. As he pulled his blade from the Ogre's back he kicked a Hurlock Alpha moving to the stand near the Commander of the Wardens as he looked to the Wardens. "Move your men up, we need them back in the damn hole Commander! We need them their ten minutes ago, get the Ogre down and push back those Hurlocks!" He gave orders hoping the Wardens here had received the letter he sent.

"Beaky Archers!" With that a very angry griffin descended it's claws ripping into Genlock archers tossing them aside. "Get in there! You don't want to be outdone my a Griffin do you!?" Cried the Elf as he charged back into the fray, blocking and slashing wildly. Storm Beak occasionally lending support with her claws, he finally fell back knowing Storm Beak needed to land and rest. He hoped the sudden attack would have been enough to drive back the horde before they got into even more trouble.

He made his way up to Ferelden's Gray Warden commander and smiled, he was soaked he to toe in Dark Spawn blood. His shield cracked along the griffin icon, his helmet lost somewhere in the fray his red hair specked with flakes of blood. "Nice to meet you Commander, High Constable Lavellan." He offered her his hand, with dripped with blood. "I came from Weisshaupt as soon as I heard, figured you could use the help. With the rest of Griffins either assigned to message running or training Storm Beak and I are about the best you'll get until the other arrive." He answered as he began to clean his with a rag. "Speaking of which I was supposed to be offering you Griffin to bond with, sadly that won't be happening for awhile. So, any news why the Fade this thing is here?" He asked finishing cleaning his armor as Storm Beak landed preening her feather before rolling on to her back and Daeron rubbing her belly.

As the Darkspawn army crawled it's way forward, the dark cloak that covered her fluttered in the wind. She observed the coming forces. She had to admit, the Darkspawn didn't seem as stupid as lore deemed them to be. Using their fallen comrade's bodies as leverage over the spikes was smart thinking.

However, they didn't plan on a full frontal assault it seemed. Or perhaps they did? Either way, it was silly for them to attack in the day time. Night would have been better for them, but she imagined the Darkspawn didn't care about that. What did they care about? Killing? Seemed a good a thing as any, she supposed.

She noted the camp the Grey Wardens held. She had brief dealings with the Wardens. She first met them back when her family held a title in Orlais. She got to meet a few of them as they visited and stayed in their home. She didn't think of them much, other than their need to hold back the Archdemon and kill it. After she began her....journey is a good word for it....journey, she met a few more of them, even made some acquaintances with some of them after she helped them out with previous Darkspawn attacks. Even helped save a small village. She imagined those men and women would be at this very camp.

She sighed and walked forward toward the camp. The second wave was already making headway and she could see they were pulling out the heavy artillery. She began to sprint now, racing towards the middle point between the advancing Darkspawn and the camp walls. As she neared them, some of the Darkspawn saw her and began to advance towards her. If they couldn't get the camp, they could at least kill something.

She gave a light smirk and raced toward them. It was only a few Hurlocks and a Genlock, but still. She got near the Genlock and dove under it, slicing the back of it's knee and subsequently flooring it. She dove her dagger into it's throat, killing it. The Hurlocks let out a cry and charged again. She kicked one in the face and used it as a platform, jumping up and landing on another, dagger first. She swiped at two of the other ones, killing them. She raced towards the wall again.

She managed to get past the horde and got to her destination. She gave a small cursory wave to the Wardens that were looking onward. "Don't suppose I can get an invitation in? It's brutal out here," she said with an Orlesian accent. She took her hood down and let her long, blonde hair fly out, "I think I can be of some assistance, if that's the case."

As the wall of Wardens commenced with the oncoming horde, and Daeron flew above the lines with Beaky, Rannon waded through the weak link in the line of soldiers with his sword leading. The huge blade caving in the skull of a genlock, dropping the foul creature with a resounding crack of bone. He kicked its toppling body forward, and back-stepped as a group of Hurlock shock troopers charged forward.
Rannon kept his eye on the Warden lines, making sure not to sprint too far and get overwhelmed by the horde. Luckily it seemed there were plenty of monsters to go around, and seven Hurlocks seemed to fancy him as a target. His huge blade whipped in a wild arc to keep them back, drawing their attention as his allies leaped forward and engaged, harrying four of the Darkspawn.

That left him three to face in his direct line of sight. Ever moving and screeching, the Hurlocks slashed forward in arcs with their wicked blades. He clove at the swing of one, while ducking a second sword in a simultaneous and fluid motion. The third Hurlock couldn't get passed its comrades, fortunately. While crouched, he gave a feral growl and shoulder rushed the Hurlock that had swung wide above his head. It staggered the Darkspawn, and he drew his blade closer to slit its stomach quickly before he waded back in practiced steps. His sword leading as he stepped, he reveresed his momentum and let the blade drive forward suddenly, taking the second Hurlock that had raised its blade, straight in the chest. The third had finally gotten room, and swiped at Rannon. The experienced man had to let go of his sword to avoid being cut from forehead to chest. He savagely grabbed at the blade when he saw the following opening, grappling with the monster for the weapon. Foetid breath threatened to choke him, but years of hatred for this race of monsters lent extra strength to his limbs, and he held onto the hilt of the sword with one hand as he punched the Hurlock straight in the face. It cut his Knuckles something fierce, and the Darkspawn's throat rumbled with returned hatred as it headbutted forwards, catching Rannon on the face and splitting his lip.
The soldier grunted and leaped away, relinquishing the Darkspawns sword as he tried to get his own. He didn't know if he could get it in time, but it seemed it didn't matter.

One hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle flew past the soldier and hit the Hurlock like a cannon shot. It ripped into its flesh with vicious canine teeth, before trotting over to Rannon and giving a friendly 'harumph'. There was a small moment of calm that spoke volumes about this man and his companion. When he saw his dog in the lull of combat, he seemed almost twenty four again, before his softened visage hardened once more.

The Fereldan soldier gave a vicious grin to Gideon, and patted the Mabari on the head. He grabbed his sword as he spoke. "You just had to finish your meal before showing up." he lectured, ripping his blade out of the Darkspawn corpse. The Dog barked in answer, but Rannon didn't have time to reply again as more Darkspawn broke through.

Rannon was no mage or legendary Grey Warden. He couldn't topple buildings or fly above on Griffon-back. But he'd be damned if he wasn't here on this battlefield. It was the only place he belonged. The only place where he could make a difference.
With a snarl that would do his Mabari proud, he kicked off the ground and split a genlocks skull from ear hole to ear hole.

One particular ogre was having a worse day than her, despite how difficult that was. Arrows had been raining down upon it, and then a Warden dived off a griffin to add insult to injury, dragging his sword down the beast’s back.

And then the Desire-possessed ogre punched it.

The force knocked the foe off-balance, as it crashed down onto a line of darkspawn. It wasn’t dead, even after all that, but watching it roll around trying to stand back up was morbidly entertaining.

An elf Warden approached her, the griffin rider, and spoke up, introducing himself as a High Constable.

Shaking the man’s hand, Celica’s voice was strained from lack of sleep and general annoyance at her situation, but she tried to not let it show too badly. “A pleasure. I requested reinforcements, but didn’t think we rated griffins.” Surveying the battlefield, it was impossible to tell who was who, let alone what side was winning. “Haven’t found anything related to its origin yet, but the darkspawn certainly don’t want us going in there, that’s for damn sure. Don’t worry about the griffin, I have bigger problems right now.”

The head of a nearby soldier was sliced clean off by an approaching Hurlock Alpha, the one Lavellan had used to springboard off. A suit of thick, burnished gold armour gave it a menacing aura. It held two wicked swords, one in each hand, walking with a purpose towards the two Wardens.

“Hold that thought.” Celica prepared to meet the Alpha, which picked up speed dramatically when coming within two feet of her. It spun round, bringing both swords lashing towards her. Dropping into a defensive stance, the air was filled with the sound of grinding metal, as both swords left angry scores on the Warden-Commander’s shield. The woman drove her own sword at the softer mesh of the armour, around the waist. It found purchase in the Alpha’s arm instead, which had been moved in front of the blow as a defacto shield. Using it’s free arm, a fist slammed into Celica’s face with enough momentum to cause her to stagger back, slipping in the worsening mud brought on by the storm. Standing over her, it brought both swords above it’s head, and slashed downwards.

---

The mage-summoned storm was really picking up. Elsewhere on the battlefield, several Wardens were more than happy to accept the help of a blonde-haired woman, who had painted herself as someone very adept at combat. Also noticing this, the darkspawn began to drive towards the group, led by one of the Genlock Alphas. Arrows rained down upon the Wardens above, causing them to move down from the wall, beside the woman. The darkspawn rushed at them.

In contrast to the barrage of arrows fired by the enemy, the response was calm and composed. Several individual projectiles sailed over the wall, landing kill-shots on every target they hit. Celica’s second in command, Mila Calau, appeared atop one of the towers overlooking the field. Laying down pinpoint accuracy cover fire for the nearby Wardens, she silently watched over them.

---

Several of the more green Wardens stood in awe at the display of skill and ferocity displayed by the warrior and his Mabari. Darkspawn simply melted in his wake, and the sight of the blood-stained dog made more than a few wary. A hearty laugh rose up from nearby.

“You fight like a sodden dwarf.” Oghren commented, hiccuping just after. “What’s say we knock some heads together?” A Genlock Alpha began charging towards them, while behind that, a Hurlock Alpha stopped the retreat of several darkspawn. The collective group of enemies moved towards the vastly outnumbered allied forces.

Daeron was at Celica's back, he place his shield above her blocking the falling blades path to her body. He gave a whistle as bashed his opponent in the face the shield following. Celcia would fell some tug her collar the her body flip into air before landing the Griffins back. It looked back at her, giving a slight chirp as if to say. 'You owe me food later.' Cawing it spread it's wing.

Daeron found three more Hurlocks moving into back up their Alpha. "Commander I suggest you grab the reigns with one hand put your sword arm to use. Beaky will be careful, since it's your first flying." Daeron took the head off two of the Darkspawn as Storm beak climbed up about ten meters off the ground. She then began to dive into groups then dragging one of the creatures up with her before letting it plummet to the ground. The animal chirped and cawed as if it enjoyed harming Darkspawn.

Daeron slammed his shield into the Alpha's chest throwing his weight into to shove the creature into the ground. He stabbed at it again and again, hoping to sink the blade in deep and kill the annoying beast before it got worse. After stabbing at it a dozen or so times he pulled back, A dozen hurlocks and ten more Genlocks surrounded him snarling as they prepared to rush at him. "I believe it's time to go." He raised his shield arm Beaky caught the signal and dove back towards him picking him up with the claws carefully, pauldrons had to be reinforced for several times before a Griffins talons would not pierce it. Dropping him back near the other Wardens, Beaky landed to let the Commander get off.

"Rest Commander, I'll push these Blighters back. If you must go back Storm Beak can take you, I won't here otherwise. I'm the Warden in charge now." He told her, as if to give her some ease.

Daeron said turning back to the lines. "All force pull together! Make a stand and protect the mages and wounded! Archer fire for the Alpha's, warriors target the Ogre's! The rest of you group up and cut them down!" He said stepping up to other Wardens, dropping his shield he picked another shield from a fallen Warden, it was in better shape than his. He stabbed through the first Hurlock chest bashing back another one shoving it into another two.

Nicolette watched the arrows fly and land at their desired targets with pinpoint accuracy. She had to give them credit, they were holding their own. She looked up and saw a Griffon of all things flying with two people aboard. One looked like an elf male and one was wearing Grey Warden armor.

Nicolette also saw a man with a Mabari dog launch into the frey. She noted the skill displayed by both the warrior and his dog, that amount of teamwork was most impressive. Nicolette ran towards them as she noted the Hurlock Alpha leading the retreating troops back into the frey, knowing full well if they got close the troops would begin to suffer heavy losses.

As she neared the warrior man, she took out her daggers again and pulled her cloak hood up, if anything it was useful to keep her hair from flying around on the battlefield, "Doesn't seem like you need a hand, but I'll lend one regardless," she said to the warrior. She looked at the Mabari hound and smiled, and charged forward towards the advancing army.

She kick-flipped one Genlock and afterwards lurched her dagger forward into its chest. She kicked it off and swiped at another Genlock's throat. The Hurlock Alpha was towards the back, but it seemed to command the troops. She knew taking it down would drive the others into a frenzy, making them easier.

He knocked over the cloven Genlock, and heard the coarse voice of Oghren to the side. He took the 'fight like a Dwarf' comment as a compliment. He gave a light punch to his bearded comrade's shoulder. "What? Drunk and off balance?" he quipped above the roar of battle. The Dwarf's following offer to fight together wasn't one he could refuse.

Probably even if he wanted to, he noted as he saw the advancing Darkspawn. Years of frustration and inner turmoil boiled up at the sight of the huge army before them. He gripped his sword hilt tighter, and Gideon barked in a challenge. Even if I wanted to? I'd never want to.
He ran forward, powerful legs pumping and sending him gaining and then passing the short strides of Oghren. He skidded to a stop just before he was within sword range of the Genlock Alpha, sidestepped and took a feel for how it moved, sword out wide. Almost predictable, the Alpha gave a vicious diagonal slash. He whipped his sword across, catching the other sword by the base of his blade, near the hilt. Suddenly he stepped forward, pressing the aloft blade to the monster's throat and shoving forward to embed the two hander's edge into its throat. The noise of its gurgle and seeing it reach for its torn esophagus was more satisfying than he'd have admitted in front of fairer company.

He then saw the very curious sight of Nicolette wade through the battle, her voice carrying to his ears. He shrugged. He would have thought she'd be a good example of company that he'd keep quiet around, but this girl didn't seem too shy of bloodshed either from the looks of it. Gideon yapped excitedly, then sprang forward and launched himself into a small group of Genlocks that had approached too close for comfort. He barreled into them, kicking and biting and ripping. It was a sight that always impressed the soldier. This was the same dog that peed and put out too many campfires, he thought to himself. Time and urgency seemed to return to him in a flood of realization, and both Rannon and Oghren ran forward and cut the disoriented monsters down with fierce strokes, not three strides from Nicolette's position. Crudely made armor sundered under their heavy blades, the sound of metal being punched and broken apart cut through the air.

Oghren gave a roar of drunken laughter at the warrior’s reply. “I’ll give you that one. Mostly ‘cause I can’t argue with it.” Bringing his axe down upon a fallen darkspawn with a yell, he proceeded to get stuck into the fighting.

---

“I appreciate the sentiment, High Constable, but I’m not leaving my men here. They haven’t abandoned me these past three months, and I won’t do so now.” Celica spoke, looking determined. A softer lilt came into her voice the second time round. “Although I would certainly appreciate a chance to breath.”

She moved to view the battlefield, watching as the Hurlock alpha drew a last breath. The stab wounds hadn’t killed it, but it couldn’t rise, and it wasn’t long before an Ogre stood on it, which drew a smile from the Warden-Commander.

---

Meanwhile, two Genlock alphas accompanied by a cabal of various other darkspawn, moved to assault the line again. Racing towards Nicolette, Oghren and Rannon, they gave a bloodcurdling warcry. Several were cut short by more pinpoint arrows from above.

---

The sound of tearing flesh filled the air, as the Tevinter Mercenary gave a short gasp. Top and bottom half of his body now completely separate, his blood covered an invisible claw hanging in the air. Slowly, black fur began to materialise, rolling down an arm. A Shriek Alpha howled into the wind, becoming fully visible. The sound was copied by countless other unseen predators lurking within the Warden camp. Celica suddenly panicked.

“Damn it! That’s why they deliberately blew up the mines!” She yelled, mostly to herself. That was only the half of it. With the mage now dead, the demon of Despair was free from his control, and began flash-freezing as many soldiers and Wardens as darkspawn. Raining little shard of ice down, Mila fired an arrow towards it. The demon froze the water, causing the arrow to become point-heavy, and smash into an unsuspecting Warden below.

“This is why I hate relying on demons.” Muttered the Warden-Commander.

The battle roared around them as this new group of enemies surged forward like a wave. An arrow whizzed by Rannon's ear, sending small hairs on his head swaying. He didn't have time to think on such a close call as the Darkspawn advanced. Thankfully every other arrow was launched wide above the melee to come streaking down, cutting into the closing ranks of creatures.

He desperately wanted to charge forward, but he held his ground behind the fresh corpses of his foes, using them as a small obstacle to step over and trip up. He snapped his fingers for Gideon to step back, and his closest friend complied, panting as he trotted back. Rannon took a stance, calming his fury and keeping his sword out and level. Of course the Darkspawn fell for the small, basic strategy. Some bumped into each other and a few more fell to their knees. One did a running leap and impaled itself on Rannon's
outstretched and ready sword. He let the corpse slide down his blade, before dropping the sword point at the ground and kicking the body off. He'd need to clean the steel of the sword afterwards. If he lived, of course.

He looked to his left and right, at the Dwarf, and the Mabari of the same size on all fours. Nicollete was a small wisp of a thing, but he believed he caught her cloak swaying. Behind him he heard the wall advancing forward as well, and it bolstered his resolve and tired body. They began their bloody work, hacking down at the tripped foes before wading past them, Rannon at the fore, his tall form and huge sword in the air a fine rallying point.

They crashed into the Genlock Alphas with a clash of steel and the screams of the dying. Rannon cut down a Genlock Alpha through the pandemonium of combat, and suddenly felt a hot slash on his face. Through sheer instinct, he stabbed towards the pain and saw a Hurlock screech and fall dead. He couldn't take his hand off his sword and touch his face during the melee, but he felt hot blood running down his chin. A gleam of silver caused him to duck, and one wicked scimitar sliced over his head to bump into a Warden's shield. Rannon, still crouched from the move, unsheathed his long knife. He dropped his sword, and punched the Darkspawn in the stomach, doubling it over. He finished it off with a Knife to the thing's throat. They were getting too close, he realized. His sword was too big in such closed ranks to be effective.

In the din of battle he heard Gideon's baying. And it took a minute before the Darkspawn had been wittled down enough for him to draw his two hander again. He found Gideon ravaging the corpse of a Hurlock Alpha, a long and sloping gash along his hindquarters, but otherwise he was alright.

-The Gnawed Noble, Denerim, Fereldan-

There were never many Dwarves in the Gnawed Noble. Like many of the prominent establishments in Denerim the tavern boasted a majority of Human patrons and/or residents. This was not a deliberate state of affairs; Elves were generally greeted with open contempt, Dwarves were eyed with suspicion and Maker forbid the response a Qunari was likely to receive if he or she ever walked through the door. This was, of course, a status quo that a majority of Humans would rarely even stop to consider; Denerim was a Human-run city and the Gnawed Noble was a Human-run tavern, it was just the way of things.

Which is why there were so many hushed whispers between patrons about the Dwarf on the table closest to the door.

Delwin had chosen her seat for a strategic purpose, namely its proximity to the building's entrance and its position in the corner of the room. She sat with her back against the wall, chair moved slightly so she had a clear line of sight covering the entire room. Upon entering the tavern she had purchased an ale from the bemused bartender before claiming her seat; the beer stood untouched on the table in front of her, growing tepid and warm as the hours dragged on.

She was a fearsome presence in such a normal setting. The off-duty guards enjoying their drinks three tables away were making a determined attempt to ignore her, they couldn't get into an altercation with someone they didn't notice after all. The serving girls hadn't dared approach the Dwarf with all the tattoos and even the tavern's old dog was keeping well clear of her. A small human child had approached her and gaped before being grabbed and pulled away by a terrified mother. That had been two hours ago.

Her contact was late.

Delwin felt her back begin to ache. She had enough concealed weapons to arm a small band of militia and, even though she was sitting as comfortably as possible, they did cause discomfort after a while. She remained where she was, she had been unmoving since she had taken her seat and was not about to fidget now. She knew the effect it had on those around her and wouldn't trade their fear and confusion for all the cushions in the world.

The door to the Gnawed Noble opened to admit an Elf. He was a lithe man, short (by Elvish standards) and skinny; the common characteristics of a resident of an alienage. He scanned the tavern and looked almost ready to leave before spotting Delwin. Cautiously he approached her table and, at her nod, sat in the chair opposite her.

"You're late." Delwin's voice was cold and harsh, it retained that twang that denoted an Orzammar accent but was otherwise unremarkable.
"Sorry, I got held up." The Elf hurriedly explained, "There were more guards than usual and-"
"Enough." Delwin reached into a pouch with one hand and placed a small stack of copper coins onto the table. "I want information, not small talk.'
"Alright, alright." The Elf raised his hands placatingly, "So I've done some digging and...' he leaned in conspiratorially, 'they're not here exactly."

Delwin sighed and began to slide a portion of coins back into her pouch. The Elf grabbed her arm, "Wait!" Delwin's eyes flicked up to meet his, he hurriedly removed his arm.
"I know where they are now." Delwin leaned back into her chair and gestured for him to continue. "The king's holed up in his castle but that Warden queen is outside the city right now."

Delwin considered, "Word's out that there's some sort of rumble going on out there with the Darkspawn. How're they doing? Is there a retreat likely? Where would she be if they fell back?"
"Whoa!" The Elf looked uncertain, "You hired me to scout out Denerim and the Royal Palace and that's what I did. I wasn't hired to search outside the city, especially with all the Darkspawn so I figure I'm owed extra for that alone!"

Delwin's eyes narrowed slightly. "I hired you to provide two of the most recognisable people in Thedas, you've only given me the run at one and the other's even in the sodding city, you'll get half what I promised and be grateful. But if you're lying to me I will find you and you'll wish you'd been killed in the Blight." The Elf gulped and nodded hurriedly. Delwin stood suddenly, drawing the attention of the tavern once more, she stretched and felt her body click and quiver in mild relief. She left the tavern, not bothering to pay for the drink, they could beat the fee out of the Elf for all she cared.

-The Streets of Denerim-

Delwin walked the city at a firm pace. She cut an imposing figure, even at her height, the ruffians and thugs who'd normally have gone for a lone walker in the backstreets of Denerim gave her a wide berth. The vicious weapons she kept by her sides were usually deterrent enough for any casual thieves or murderers and, for those who knew, the Carta marks tattooed on her face and etched on her armour were warnings that anyone who approached without her say so faced much worse than a mercenary.

But that was the problem, no one knew anymore.

Delwin had been on the surface when she'd heard the news:
'The Carta's finished, Grey Wardens killed 'em all!'
She'd had enough presence of mind to disappear, for the past few years she'd gone to ground and used her skills as a common mercenary. That had stung; she had been the best fighter in the Carta, in all of Orzammar, and then in the blink of an eye she was back to blackmailing merchants and robbing caravans.
Despite this, she'd never moved on, never allowed her hatred to subside. She had no idea why the Wardens had gone to eliminate the Carta, why they'd suddenly come down from the surface and eradicated the Orzammar criminal fraternity, but she'd make them pay.

Not that the Carta was totally gone, officially, there had been reports of surface Dwarves claiming the name in places like Kirkwall and running schemes in the Free Marches. They'd even reached out to Delwin and offered her membership in the 'New Carta'. Delwin had seen the offer for what it was, they wanted her as validation, a figurehead to show they had the blessing of one of the old guard. She'd sent her refusal with the body of the messenger.

There was no one left really, no one but her. Delwin was the Carta now, the last of the Carta. With that title there were... responsibilities.
She'd spent the past few years travelling through Fereldan, Orlais, even down to Orzammar itself. She'd closed down the Carta safehouses and settled accounts with those fools who hadn't maintained their payments in the last days before the Carta had been eradicated. She'd left each area with more money and more notches on her blades in almost equal measure. The Carta, the true Carta, may be gone but she would not have anyone in a position where they could accuse the organisation of not finishing its business.

Now business was concluded, there was only one task now: revenge.

Delwin would track down those who had destroyed the Carta and exact a punishment the likes of which would only be whispered about in the darkest tales.
She had heard enough tales of the so-called heroes who had 'saved Fereldan' and 'ended the Blight' to know who her targets were. She had debated going after all party members of that celebrated group but the stories were unclear about who had been present in the purging of the Carta and she was not greedy. She would confine her retribution to the leaders of the band, King Alistair and Queen Celica.

As she reached the city gate Delwin grinned a bitter smile, Nobles were simple targets, royalty would be no different.

Nicolette raced forward as the others began their own assault. She didn't worry about them, they seemed to be able to handle themselves, though she had a deep concern for the dwarf that she couldn't place. As she stepped forward, she ducked under a few of the taller Darkspawn. She plowed forward, piercing the Genlocks that were behind them. As she dug her daggers in their chests, she used her feet to propel her backwards, flipping in the air and landing on the Alphas. She then dropped down, snapping the ones neck. The other Darkspawn around went for her, but she swiped her dagger, slicing one's neck that the others took the warning and began fleeing.

After her massacre, she noticed the others and how they did. As she suspected, the others held their own and the dog was ravaging the corpse of his victim. She instantly liked the dog even more. She casually walked towards the others, lowering her hood again. She gave a small smile as if she was just on a brisk walk through the park.

Rannon wiped blood off his mouth, and he felt a small sting. He had forgotten when the Darkspawn had split his lip. He ran his tongue over it and flexed his shoulders, easing the tension out of them. The soldier cleared his throat, and called out for Gideon to head over to him. The dog limped only slightly, bleeding gingerly as he galloped over.

Rannon knelt down and ran his hand over the wound lightly. "You alright?" he asked him softly. The Dog almost puffed his chest out as Rannon examined the cut. He shook his head. "You gotta be more careful, Giddy." His voice was barely a whisper. He'd have to clean the wound later when the battle was over. But Gideon could still fight, and Rannon knew they needed all the help they could get if the battle wasn't turning soon.

He stood up and crossed his arms when he was satisfied, sighing. He gave a light smile at his best friend. Anyone watching would think he treated him more akin to a little brother than a dog. He was used to being the big brother, truth be told. A movement to the side caught his attention, and he saw the lithe form of Nicolette walking out of the melee. He smiled back at her as she approached. She seemed to be able to really take care of herself.

Daeron was not happy, currently a demon was trying freeze his boots in place. Meanwhile a shriek had just flanked the mages. He swung his heavy blade at the demon to drive back before making a sprint for the shriek he attacked the creature stabbing at, always keeping his shield between it and him. One those things could rend a man in half easier than ogre could crush you.

Daeron battled the shriek as Beaky his partner took off, swooping down in fast dives trying to rip the desire demons head from it's skull. Storm Beak might have hated Dark Spawn but demons? Well Beaky had a bad Experience with demons, meaning to say that she discovered how confused they were at the nature of our world. Of things like gravity, flight, and how bones break were foreign to them. The Griffin only wished to teach them these simply thing or bite there head off and throw at a Darkspawn, whichever came first worked for her.

Daeron forced the shriek back towards the wall he tried to pin it against the wall with his shield and stab it in the head. He needed this thing to be dead and he needed it dead five minutes ago, after all every minute this continued they had to contend with more Darkspawn. He wanted to know the why about their forces, they couldn't have found another Archdemon so soon or... It could have been worse. He'd recently been given information that had been collected from Warden Commander Duncan's journals they had been recovered by another Warden, one from Orlais who had known the man.

He had information to share with current Commander here, honestly he wished they could just win already so they could get it done. He still had no idea how he was going to break all the news to her, as it seemed he would have a lot to share with her. Most it would be surprising no doubt however he decided she deserved to know of all it, the First Warden could shove it if he thought otherwise. After all from what he had heard, Duncan had been the one to bring Celica into the order in the first place.

The Bannorn, a large plain of land that made up a considerable portion of Ferelden, normally whenever in Ferelden - Mireth would try and stick to the Bercilian forest - he had no intention of wanting to run into humans - he didn't want to be within 100 feet of one.
But an odd sight, if not a mere glimpse of something truly unprecedented forced his curiosity to take steps into land he would never normally tread - that is to say, he could have sworn he seen a Griffon.
IT was worth laughing in disbelief, and he'd have disregarded it instantly if not for the fact that Dragons, whom were also thought to be extinct came back this century as well.
Why would it not be possible for Griffons to also make their way back on the stage of the world? Who knows what else would surface from extinction, maybe this era would be one for the elves, one when their gods return or they discover some arcane secret that would allow them to gain the power of their former selves...
It was worth hoping for.

Mireth was treading over the plain land, his feet being tickled by the soft grass - it was, as far as he was concerned not an overly bad walk, he hadn't met any humans yet, thankfully.
But, he did find something, a good hour into his journey - something most odd, it was a darkspawn...
Mireth stopped and inspected it, it was clearly wounded, having escaped the clutches of death, if not but only for a moment as it had several arrows jutting out of its torso, 3 of them were lethal, at the very least.
But it managed to walk however far it had - leaving behind it a trial of its corruption.

The creature gave a sniff at the air, it was hoarse and its price was a guttural cough ending in a glob of the thick black blood being hawked out of its mouth, but, it had smelt what it needed.
The dieing creature turned around and faced Mireth a look of intense pain and hatred etched into its scarred face; in comparison to the elf before it who had a face as disinterested as if he had been eating a meal.
Calm and serene.

For whatever the reason the creature was infuriated by this and charged with its last amount of energy, hoping to claim at least one more life before its own ended - if it were any other being, they'd undoubtedly have a difficult fight on their hands, a creature so utterly determined to kill regardless of it own mortality.
Fearsome and horrifying was the sight, but Mireth simply twirled his staff in the air with a practised deftness before hammering the blade deep into the soft ground.
The heavens split open momentarily to unleash a bolt of lightning down to the earth, driving itself through the flesh and armour of the dark spawn, before being absorbed by the ground, scorching the impact point.
The brief intense flash of light burned out in an instant, and the small roll of thunder spread through the relatively peaceful plains.

Wrinkling his nose at the smell of burning flesh Mireth continued forward as if nothing had happened.

It wasn't much longer before the previous encounter was becoming frequent, not alive for change, the Bannorns plain land was sparsely littered with the corpses of darkspawn, there must be a battle nearby, and these ones escaped the fray, if only to die of their wounds as they walked away.

The noise of fighting being carried in the wind, and the smell of burning flesh confirmed Mireths suspicions - it'd been a while since he had a proper fight, it would be worth the detour before looking for more signs of the Griffon.
Ten minutes later the elf made his way onto the edge of the battlefield, the sight was one of chaos, the Grey wardens had been camped here by the looks of things, culling what remained of the Darkspawn threat - hardly surprising; but, he sensed demons amongst the combatants - what on earth would these creatures be doing here...
The brilliant flashes of light showed that mages were in the fray, but the fade wasn't so weak as to let demons through was it?

Now, there was a greater need to check what was going on.

Mireth, walked up to the rear lines his staff ready and began to peer more closely at the resulting fight.
"Ah, there's the Griffon." The choice to come here was correct at least, he sated both bouts of curiosity in one fell swoop - rare for something like that to happen.

A near by warden, who was changing the quivers for the archers stopped and looked at the observing elf with disbelief before shouting to him "Are you gunna fight or what?!" The fool was lucky he was a Warden, and with so many friends - such insolence was worth losing a limb over, but to give him credit- he was correct, since he was here he may as well help them, he did respect the wardens after all.
Mireth pushed himself deeper into the fray, demons and darkspawn fighting the wardens... the sight alone was enough to turn lesser beings minds into broken shards of its former self.
He took note as a shriek and a pair of genlocks had finished mauling their previous target and turned their eyes on the unprotected mage - tactically an easy kill given how little hand-to-hand combat they had.

The stupid creatures would soon learn the difference between him and one of those shem mages, not that they'd survive the encounter - a small smile split on his face as twirled his staff into a combat ready position, as the trio of foes closed their distance Mireth quickly prepared the spell - Haemorrhage, he placed the blade end of his staff near his torso and shoved it deep into his body, piercing all the way through to his back - he felt it as it cut through his intestines and pierced through his back - the sight confused the genlocks, their pace slowed almost to a stop.
"Good, as always they stop at the sight." Using his magic he began channelling his blood into the staff, the wood becoming saturated with his life force. And as the blade left his torso the ground underneath the genlocks and the shriek erupted with blood, the explosive force sent into the air in a spectacular display, without hesitating Mireth quickly summoned more energy to power another lightning bolt, this one - thanks to his blood magic was extremely powerful, far more powerful than the last, the clouds blasted apart in a circle as gigantic bolt of light ploughed its way through the blood fountain that lifted his foes up in the air - the combination of the spells was cataclysmic completely burning away the flesh of his opponents until nought but charred skeletons remained.
The blast of light illuminated the entire battlefield in a spectacular clarity.
His entrance was made, the performance - had begun.

Light was fading fast, even beyond the clouds, as day turned to night. The tide of the battle was slowly turning in the Warden’s favour once again, despite the emergence of shrieks in their camp. Every allied soldier, with the exception of the archers, were almost knee-deep in blighted blood. Despair still flitted about the sky, raining death down on both sides of the battle. With the last of the shrieks finished off, the collective allied force began pushing the darkspawn force back into the Deep.

The Warden-Commander dashed among their foul ranks, supporting the frontline. Ice cold, a spear of frozen water shattered against her shield. Arrows and spells of every description, while less than before, still smited at the darkness. Oghren proceeded to glump through the mud, laughing, roaring and hiccuping while cleaving foes left and right.

Which was all well and good, until a single Hurlock strode forth out of mouth of The Verge. Carrying a crooked black wooden staff, ragged robes hung around the thing. It stopped, scanning over the battlefield. An arrow sailed towards it, which was deflected by the presence of a dark silvery shield springing into being just as the projectile struck. Raising the staff towards the clashing forces, what happened next chilled the Wardens to the marrow.

“Laipatu kan siasivid!” Aptly spoken words split the very air, hurled forth from the emissary. That, alone, was worrying enough, but it was accompanied by a bolt of green putrid energy. To the naked eye, it looked like a lightning bolt. However, as it pierced the heart of the first Warden it hit, the man aged within the blink of an eye, and simply turned to dust. It sought out the heart of a second warrior, narrowly missing Gideon, and gave a repeat performance. It cycled through this, arcing from warrior to warrior 8 times, before slamming into the demon-possessed Ogre. The lights in it’s eyes died, as the bolt appeared once more from it’s back, now infused with the life-force of a demon. Seeking out the Warden Mage who summoned the Desire demon, he quickly threw up a strong defensive spell. As the bolt collided into the shield, there was a bright flash of brilliant-white energy, before the now-ash mage floated away in the breeze. The victims of the spell stood in various states of decomposition, as their bodies gave way to the entropic spell. Smiling grimly, proud of his handiwork, the emissary began barking orders to the scattered darkspawn. They began to form a cohesive unit, and pushed forth with renewed enthusiasm, and a mage at their backs.

A sickening laugh filled the air. With that, a gout of fire flew into the allied ranks. It slagged the armour of a nearby soldier, sending molten iron onto her flesh. Rolling in the mud, she gave a horrific garbled cry of agony. Ichor from the fallen ‘spawn began to travel in the direction of the Hurlock, swirling around his feet. Some ran under it, in an elaborate pattern, before forming a magic circle directly below the mage. At the same time, fury ablaze, the charging darkspawn crashed into the front line as though a writhing wave of bodies. Intelligent tactics with a raw hunger to kill made for a formidable combination. Celica rose, opening her mouth to shout an order to her troops, as a lance of black ichor tore through her armour. Red and black liquid mixed, the lance pierced the lower right section of her chestplate, just below the Griffin symbol. Wordlessly, the Warden-Commander collapsed onto the ground. A coarse voice rose above the din of battle.

“The Host sends their regards, Wardens.” The Emissary grinned. “Now die like good little dogs.“

It had been hours since Daeron and Storm Beak had dropped Rosalie off amongst the lands of the Bannorn. They had offered her a drop off while they were heading for Denerim since it was on their way. It was an uncomfortable coincidence that they ran into each another yet again, especially in Serault.

She should really just have been glad it was someone she knew that found her poking around the former Marquis mansion. That would have been a hard situation to explain to a complete stranger but thankfully Daeron didn’t ask too many questions, at least not this time.

Her aim in the Bannorn was to find different herbs and components that she required. She’d managed to find a decent haul of elfroots and she’d even managed to find a few spindleweeds along the banks of a river that she happened upon. It wasn’t as much as she had hoped for but it was better than nothing.

The wind chilled her bones, as it hit against her exposed arms while she arranged the herbs into their appropriate pouches in her pack. Her mind drifted for a moment as she began to hear the noises of battle again. She snapped herself back to the present, focusing on the herbs in her hands but the sounds did not abate.

Rosalie had been hearing yelling and fighting all throughout her herbal hunting and didn’t understand why the noises didn’t go away. It usually worked if she focused elsewhere but this time was different. These noises were not within her mind, they were actually happening somewhere nearby.

She grabbed her pack, slung it on her back and gripped the shaft of her speared staff before heading in what she believed to be the direction of the fighting. She gathered her cloak around herself, protecting herself from the ever increasing chill in the air. Her right hand held on tightly to the mahogany wooded staff that was half hidden beneath the fabric of her cloak, hiding the bluegreen gemmed portion of her weapon whilst the bladed end protruded in front of her. The point was cast downwards, towards the ground, as she walked forward with purpose. Her left hand gathered the hood of her dirt brown cloak over her vibrant hair so as to help conceal her coming approach to any that would try to stop her if they so wished.

Night was beginning to win out over the low evening sun when Rosalie happened upon the first signs of source of all the noises dancing through her mind. There were numerous bodies strewn around the outskirts of the battlefield that stretched out before her. Countless darkspawn, elves, dwarves and humans alike were scattered before her very eyes. Her chest ached as she looked upon the carnage. Her eyes were soon to follow as a bright flash illuminated the entire battlefield. It took her by surprise and caused her to raise her left arm to shield her poor eyes from being momentarily blinded. It was only because of this light that Rosalie had noticed a movement from the corner of her eye.

A hobbled Genlock that she had believed to be dead was clearly taking advantage of the blinding light. There were too many people that could see her in this illumination so she opted to remain incognito for the time being. She dove out of its path as it charged towards her, the rusted and rotten blade in its hand took a swing at her. The blade missed her by centimetres, luck seemed to be on her side tonight.

She spun around to face the Genlock once more and a look of pure hatred flashed across her face as she watched the vile cretin stumble over itself before landing face first into the dirt. It let out a rasping cry that was muffled by the grass and earth that now resided within its maw.

Her knuckles turned white as she clutched her weapon tighter, the concern and anger on her face would have been clear for anyone to see if it were not for her hood. While the creature regained itself, Rosalie took the opportunity to fully expose her weapon to the night skies.

The spruce coloured gemstone within the top of the staff glinted as moonlight shone through it. The mahogany wood twisted around the gemstone holding it securely in place and making it look as if the stone had been birthed from the very wood itself. The speared end had a blade of steel that looked to be around two feet in length, it was more akin to a small blade but was classed as a spear-tip upon the staff by her father. It had saved her life in more ways than one and Rosalie saw it as more an extension of herself than a simple weapon.

The Genlock charged once again but she was ready for it this time. Her blade swung upwards to meet the ragged piece of sheet metal the Genlock was flailing around. She caught a particularly crooked part and levered her blade upwards, hurling the weapon into the sky. The Genlock then took this moment to charge directly at her in a fit of indignation.

Her staff was still firmly within her hands so the beast must have been desperate. She spun her staff before her, causing a windmill effect for but a mere moment before thrusting her blade forward, sinking it deep within the skull of the darkspawn. She dragged the creature closer to her with her staff, raising a booted foot to kick the limp body off of her weapon. As the body landed on the ground, the gnarled weapon Rosalie had disarmed from the beast earlier plummeted back down and buried itself within the stomach of the Genlock’s carcass.

The cries of the Genlock had drawn more of the darkspawn attention to her than she had imagined it would. Two Genlocks and a Hurlock turned to face her, but they were far enough away that she would be able to outrun them if she so chose to. She debated just blasting them into the night sky but she was always wary about using her powers unless absolutely necessary. She made the decision to run for the battlegrounds and hope that someone would help her to fend them off.

She ran into the foray and found herself within a small group of three wardens. She would be better within a small group. It was then that she saw the Verge, the countless numbers of darkspawn spewing forth was ridiculous. The feeling that she had just ran into the arms of death enveloped her and she scowled at the Hurlock Emissary that was striding forward as if it hadn’t a care in the world.

The following scene caused every hair upon her body to stand on end, her blood boiled with sheer unsuppressed fury and her staff quivered in her palms. Those poor people had just been vaporised, there was nothing left to them. Death magic. Demons. Entropic forces flying through the air. Rosalie was not about to let this stand. Her nostrils flared as she moved forward, finding a clear shot towards the vile thing that would dare to use their power for such atrocious means.

She could see the darkspawn forming into shapes that made them appear to be moving as one. This was not acceptable, she couldn’t let this stand. There was so much going on, no one would notice nor would they care if she released her fury in a more useful way.

Crouching as if she were praying, Rosalie plunged the blade of her staff into the ground before her. She pushed it forward slightly, the gemstone pointing towards the nearest unit of darkspawn that was heading towards her. Her eyes glinted in the moonlight as her right hand released her staff and slammed onto the ground, palm downwards, beside her sunken blade.

Her splayed fingertips pointed towards the mass of infestation she had followed with her eyes the entire time. The ground began to tremble before her for a second before it darted forth, along the lines of her fingertips and began to disassemble the ground beneath them causing a number of them to fall. She needed a clear path to do what she needed to do.

She knew not all would lose their footing and she wasn’t going to take chances, her left hand raised up to the Maker above and clenched into a fist. Her voice was a whisper that oozed unadulterated conviction. ”Abattre.” Her fist punched into the back of her right hand as the words escaped her lips.

A force that could only be described as oppressive, slammed onto the unit of darkspawn from above. Combined with the broken and unsteady ground, darkspawn bodies were crumpled into the cracks between the shifting plates of earth. It was like a wrecking ball had cleared a pathway towards the head of this newly formed army and the darkspawn were the red carpet willing all those capable of fighting to push forward to cut off the head of the beast before it could bite back once again.

Looked like the quiet that had fell over the battle was just the calm before the storm. Rannon's eyes went from the approaching Nicolette to what could only be described as something from nightmares. As he watched, a Darkspawn he knew he'd love to kill rose up among the ranks and performed a ritual that chilled Rannon's bones. The hairs on his neck standing on end was all the warning he received (and needed). He dived onto the ground as the sickly energy arced to and fro above and around him. He could smell the sulphur in the air, and his heart nearly stopped as he saw the magic fly straight over Gideon.

"Get down!" he barked, and Gidoen did as he was told without question, the dog's chest hitting the ground with his head under his paws. It seemed like it lasted an hour, but realistically he knew it was only a few moments. What must have been dust whipped into his prone form, and when it dawned on him that he was covered in the ashes of his fellows, he shuddered and nearly vomited his last meal onto the ground. He placed his hands on the bloodied dirt and pushed himself up to a standing position. He patted himself and shook off the dust and Warden ash, bile still in his throat as the soldier pushed the hellish thoughts from his mind. He happened to be looking back towards the lines when he saw Celica fall.

"NO!" he roared, the words coming forth from somewhere deep within himself. He almost couldn't believe it. He had not known her well, but from what he had witnessed, she had a respect for her position and an honor he, in turn, respected. The tide had only just turned seconds ago, and now all seemed to fall apart before his eyes. Images of the Ostagar massacre flitted through his mind, and he clenched his teeth. Not this time. Anger and hatred almost seemed to emanate from him as he contemplated all that had just transpired. No, he repeated in his mind. Not this time. He would see that Emissary dead. And he would kill anyone who made the mistake of getting in his way. Gideon seemed to be reading his thoughts, the Mabari giving off a howl that reminded Rannon he had friends left in this world.

A surge of energy slammed into the ground at the approaching army, scattering their ranks and rending Darkspawn bone and armor. He did not know who the hell did that, but he was not about to argue with good fortune. His heart yearned to behead that mage Darkspawn, and now Rannon had a clear line of sight of him. However, first things first.

"You!" he said, pointing at the closest Warden. The man balked, obviously as shaken as Rannon. He cleared his throat and regarded the Ferelden soldier. "What?" he asked incredulously. The tall warrior fanned his arm out as he spoke. "Tell these men to get ready! NOW! We move forward!" he cried. "Get them ready to charge! We have one shot at this. There's an opening in their lines!" The Warden seemed to agree, but he was about to say something else before Rannon cut him off. "Do it now!" Gideon bared his teeth for emphasis, and as he saw men running to and fro, he had a feeling they wouldn't be quick enough.

"You're staying here." he said, turning around and looking forward. If someone else had been standing there, it would have looked like he had spoken to no one in particular, but Gideon gave a growl of defiance. "Fuck off." he told the dog, and the Mabari stiffened, then whined. Rannon was not in the mood to hear any of it, but Gideon bumped his leg with his enormous head and gave a 'harumph'. He shook his head. "Maker's breath." he muttered, and hefted his heavy blade. "Fine." he said. He steeled himself, not even looking behind him to see if he had support. Rannon knew there was no time. They had to kill this Darkspawn leader before their army formed up once more. He charged, maneuvering his blade from up high to a forward guard. He would kill this Emissary, even if he had to crawl out of the pit of hell to do it.

-Denerim Outskirts, Fereldan-

Delwin paused for a moment as she beheld the carnage before her. She had seen Grey Wardens before, their prominence after a Blight was unavoidable wherever you went and their heraldry just marked them out further. She had fought Darkspawn before, there had been many a criminal mining operation or illicit deal in the Deep Roads that had been intruded upon by Darkspawn either alone or in a group, the response was the same: kill the tainted bastards and get back to the important business.

But she had never seen the two factions come together with such ferocious aggression. Darkspawn surged like insects out of a disturbed nest; individuals were unrecognisable in the vast mass of the horde. The Grey Wardens on the other hand were all clear individuals, beating about themselves to slay the dark figures that were pressing to attack, conquer and devour all that lay before them. The differences could not be more pronounced, both sides lashing out to eliminate their natural enemy and to claim the field of Fereldan that they stood upon.

Delwin didn't care.

She didn't care about the hole in the ground that the Darkspawn were exiting, didn't care about the city at her back all defenceless and open, she didn't care about Fereldan or the Wardens or the neverending war that all races fought against the Darkspawn wherever they emerged.

All she cared about was the figure at the head of the Wardens, the woman fighting and issuing orders to all around her, the womam marked out by her armour and weapons as the Warden Commander. The woman whose face had been burnt into Delwin's mind ever since she had seen a drawing of the Fereldan coronation from someone who had been present.

Celica, Warden Commander and Queen of Fereldan, wife and lover to Alistair Therin and butcher of the Carta.

In almost a daze Delwin found herself walking towards the carnage, she didn't even realise that she had drawn her daggers but realised she must have done when a Genlock spotted her and charged. The beast was a mindless drone of the Blight, it had no other thoughts but to kill her and every other living thing. I guess we're not so different. Delwin thought absently as she feinted to one side, daggers slashing at the creature's throat, the Genlock fell to the floor with its claws clutching to its throat. Dark blood sprayed onto Delwin's arm, it felt warm and familiar but was alien enough to rouse her from whatever frame of mind she had been experiencing. She shook her head, now was not the time to get carried away with anticipation, this was a battleground!

She continued towards the Warden Commander, slow and methodical, she could afford to take her time. The Wardens would stay until the Darkspawn were dealt with, the Queen wasn't going anywhere.

A couple of Hurlocks bore down upon her with heavy axes, their features were unrecognisable as they bellowed and grunted, Delwin raised her knives and leapt past a clumsy axe stroke, slashing wildly. One of the Hurlocks caught a blow to its face and lashed out in pain, Delwin was struck in the shoulder by the creature's forearm and fell back. She regained her footing and took a small step back. The Hurlock she had struck with her blade lumbered towards her, its eye loosely hanging from its socket. The second Hurlock was growling and trying to push past its fellow to get at her. Delwin rolled forwards and, as she came up, pushed her daggers into both Hurlocks at close range. She succeeded in impaling their necks and the two creatures fell backwards with her momentum pushing them down. Delwin pulled her daggers free and grimaced as she was sprayed with yet more ichor and blood. She made sure to shut her mouth, no way was that stuff getting into her body, she'd heard enough stories of careless fighters who'd died weeks later of the worst kind of poisoning.

Delwin continued pushing and fighting her way through the battle, she was small enough that many of the Darkspawn (whether through some sense of pride or simply seeing larger targets as more appealing) simply ignored her, choosing to attack others in the melee. Her blades continued to taste their share of victims though and were as gnarled and vicious as the Darkspawns' own weapons.

She had no problem killing Wardens as well as their foes, with each step she took towards the Warden Commander she expected to be called out as a stranger and attacked, but when Wardens did spot her they simply changed focus to the closest Darkspawn and made no move to impede her progress. Delwin supposed that they did not see her as a threat when there were so many of their natural enemy at hand, she smiled coldly, it was a mistake they wouldn't make again if they lived through this day.

Delwin felt a shudder in the ground that she recognised as magic being used. She had little experience with Mages but knew that opinions were divided all over the Surface about the proper uses and status of magic and its practitioners. She assumed from the sight of Darkspawn bodies hurtling in all directions in another area of the battlefield that magic was being used here.

Then...she saw it, a Hurlock clutching a staff and attired in dark and ripped robes; it loomed over the battlefield, clearly holding other Darkspawn in the horde in its thrall. From its staff came a glimmer of lightning that, upon impact, rendered many soldiers on the field into dust. Delwin blinked in genuine astonishment, she'd never seen Darkspawn do that before.

But, when its next attack pierced the Warden Commander's armour and sent her to the floor, Delwin truly gasped. Years of investment and planning and the target of her efforts was lying in the dirt and in danger of being killed by Darkspawn. Delwin was being cheated out of her kill!

A wordless cry erupted from Delwin's most inner being. She plunged into the fray at a run, no longer caring of the consequences. She lashed out with her blades at Darkspawn and Wardens alike, anyone in her path was impaled, cut, slashed at or knocked aside.

She would not be cheated, not after years, not when the memory of everything she knew demanded that it be her blade embedded in Celica's armour. She would fight her way through and woe betide any who stood in her way.