Dragon Age: Convergence

Four days later

On the third day of the retreat from Ostagar, Rallick Nom saw an angel. The remnants of the army were staggering into a small village carrying the shattered husks of men with them. Rallick looked up and found himself at the Chantry and there, standing on the steps, was the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. She came down to him and took his hand in hers and it was like a sunrise in the clouded fog of his mind, a perfect creature in pristine robes and a filthy surgeon standing in the mud of the world.

“Bring the injured inside. The Chantry offers aid to all who seek it.”

He could only nod, the exhaustion that seemed to have reached his very bones denying him the faculties of speech. They brought the wounded in off the wagons that had been their sickbeds and laid them out in the nave, the rows spilling out into the cloister. Soldiers moved among their comrades as if in a trance. Ragged men who had gone to the edge of oblivion and come back burnt, somehow less and more than they had been. Rallick knew that his face mirrored theirs, the gaunt features and the hard eyes underneath the mud and blood and the mind numbing fatigue.

Throughout the day he practised his art. Stitching torn flesh and setting bones. Mixing elixirs to stave off infection and excising stinking, dead meat where it had taken hold. He took the shredded remains of men and made them whole again. A patchwork of skin and bones to hold in their guts. Most would not see morning. The lost and the pale, they lay like ghosts until they gave their last shuddering breath back to the world and then it was rites, prayers and the pyre. The taint ran wild, men and women who seemed within help slipped through Rallick's fingers. He fed them milk of the poppy to make them sleep, that their passing would be that much easier. While he did all of this the angel prayed. He finished after nightfall, the sister's came and went with candles to stave off the darkness but Rallick felt the need for some shadows.

He slipped away and sat on the steps of the Chantry, looking up at the sky while out in the town of Lothering the refugees slumbered before another day of hardship. He heard steps behind him and a presence settled on the steps to his right.

“The Reverend Mother noticed your absence and was worried.”

He had mistaken her for an angel when he had first seen her, but now he knew that it was only a trick of the light. It was the innocence that had struck him blind, not divine beauty, innocence that he hadn’t seen for longer that he cared to remember.

“Thank you Sister, I am well.”

The woman giggled and he realised that she was no more than a girl.

“I'm not a Sister silly, just an initiate.”

Rallick apologized but she waved him off.

“You can call me Inanna. What is your name doctor?

Rallick told her and for a moment she was silent.

“I heard of a Rallick Nom from the Free Marches. They say that he killed a hundred crows and freed a city all for love. They would have made him a king but he left without saying a word. Your accent is from the Marches isn’t it?”

Rallick glanced at her in the darkness and knew that she was just a young girl who thought she had met a hero, like a Knight from an old tale. A man so noble and upright that he never could have existed at all. A man who had done the impossible for love. So he just smiled sadly and told her that no, he was just Rallick Nom the doctor. Then he stood and made to head back inside and resume his work.

“I have to hold vigil over the injured, they may have need of me.”

Inanna scrambled to her feet as only the young could, her eyes bright.

“I can do that. You sleep and if there's any trouble I'll come and wake you.”

Rallick shook his head.

“Better if I'm on hand.”

She pouted and Rallick realised that she hadn’t believed him about being just a doctor. Turning, he wearily made his way back to his charges, his feet dragging. For at least an hour, the wounded occupied him with changing bandages and prescribing potions. But then it was done and he stood alone in the dim sept. They were in the Maker's hands now. Footsteps again and Inanna appeared carrying a tray with a clay cup on it.

“I brought you a drink.”

Rallick took the proffered cup. Even as the first drop hit his tongue he knew it was a sleeping draught. But he drank it gratefully, for it was kindly done. Then he staggered to a chair off in a shadowy corner and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

"Didn't you hear?" The well-groomed dwarf told his companion, as their caravans rattled down the road together. "King Cailin and his army fell at Ostagar, trying to hold back the darkspawn horde. And apparently, there were a few Grey Wardens present, too." 
 
"Grey Wardens?" The bushy, black-bearded dwarf boomed, raising his wild eyebrows. "Maker's Breath... Surely you're not suggesting we have a Blight on our hands? After four centuries?" 
 
"That's what I've heard on the road, anyhow. Take it for what it is." 
 
"Hrm, I'd best make my way back to Lake Calenhad, my family is camped there." The dwarf scratched his chin, his arm disappearing in the folds of his beard as he did so. "Still, that's a long journey, and I'm running low on supplies." 
 
"My boy and I were going to stop at Lothering." The other replied, urging on his mules as his beardless son sat silently next to him, a vacant smile on his face. "It's on the way to Calenhad, maybe you should come along too?" 
 
"Yes, I might do, at that. If the darkspawn hit Ostagar, then Lothering would be their next port of call... And I've got plenty of armor and weapons, they'll need them. Name's Olrik, by the way." He leaned across and offered his hand to his new friend. 
 
"Bodahn, and this here is Sandal. A pleasure to meet you." Bodahn grinned, shaking the hand of his new companion. "Perhaps you'd like to have a look at what I've got in stock? I'd be willing to offer you a discount... And my boy here is a top notch enchanter." 

"Enchantment!" The younger dwarf exclaimed. 
 

Lothering

 
"You're sure you want to stay here?" Bodahn raised his eyebrows at his companion. "This place will be swarming with darkspawn before too long, you'd best get away while you can. Besides, I'm sure there's plenty of loot a little further south..." 
 
"I'm not leaving until everyone else does." Olrik replied stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest, now clad in light dwarven armor. "My mother would turn in her grave if I abandoned an entire village to destruction." 
 
"Fair enough, it's your decision." Bodahn raised his hands, as his son trotted over clutching a large, stone hammer. "But if you insist on throwing your life away like this, at least accept this token of friendship." 
 
"That's my hammer." Olrik frowned, as Sandal handed him the weapon. Turning it over in his hands, he noticed two strange, glowing symbols etched into the surface, one on either side. "Runes?" 
 
"I told you my boy was a natural." Bodahn puffed out his chest proudly. "That one there is silverite, apparently it's like poison to the darkspawn. The other, according to Sandal here, is a lightning rune. I'm sure you can figure out for yourself what it's supposed to do." As the dwarf spoke, a spark of electricity leapt from the stone surface. 
 
"Thank you, my friend." Olrik smiled, shaking Bodahn's hand firmly. "Maker speed your journey." 
 
Bodahn chuckled and headed back to his caravan. "Yes, and may your 'Maker' be with you too." The Feddics waved farewall as they went on their way. 
 
Strapping his hammer to his back, Olrik smiled and made his way back into the village, standing near to his caravan. The three dwarves had arrived in Lothering earlier that day to get more food and supplies. While Bodahn was happy to take his goods and continue on his travels, Olrik's conscience simply wouldn't allow him to walk away while there were people in need. There were many men and women from Ostagar and other areas South of Lothering who had retreated to the village, whether to treat their injuries or simply seek refuge. The merchant had provided all the medicine he could to aid those in need, but he knew that caring for the injured would soon enough be the least of anyone's worries. Soon, the darkspawn would arrive. Lothering needed to prepare for battle. 
 
Many people were preparing to flee. One young girl had sought out Olrik earlier that day, seeking Lyrium potions. She spoke of her brother, who had seen the battle of Ostagar, and how her family was getting ready to leave Lothering. And yet there were just as many people who either could not, or would not leave. There were some stubborn old fools, who refused to believe there were any darkspawn at all, and that the King was conspiring to take their homes away from them. There were those who were too attached to Lothering to leave. And, of course, there were many who were too ill or weak to leave even if they wanted to. As he watched the people of Lothering, panicking, bickering and generally wandering about with no idea what to do, he heard the voice of his mother in the back of his head, screaming at him to save these people, to defend this village. 
 
And so Olrik decided to do just that. Clambering atop his caravan, he stood on the canvas roof, balancing his feet on the wooden beams beneath the surface. "People of Lothering!" He called, attracting the attention of those nearest. "It was chance that brought me, a traveler, to your doorstep on this day. Chance that I happened to find myself in your village on a day of such importance. But perhaps, I am here for a reason. The Darkspawn are coming. They vanquished King Cailin, defeated his army, and even took down Grey Wardens. So, many of you may ask yourselves, what chance do we stand against such an army?" He paused and let the question hang for a moment. "The Darkspawn army is divided. Scattered. While they were united at Ostagar, now they are trying to spread their evil throughout the land. That means, if and when they arrive here, their numbers will be far less than the threat faced by Cailin's army. Therefore, we have a chance, however slim, to hold back the horde and give the rest of the villagers a chance to escape. Look around you! Many of these men were injured at Ostagar, trying to stop the army of darkness before it could reach us. Now we must do the same for them, we must hold back the Darkspawn to ensure they are safe. If you wish to flee, to protect your own family from this evil, then I shall not judge you. But if any of you would stay, and help me to save Lothering, then speak now! Whether you be man, elf or dwarf, let us stand united against this evil, for the sake of all Ferelden!"

Just past the next hill smoke puffed into the sky. The journey south had been paved with travelers fleeing north up until now. Something had happened, something wasn't quite right. For a moment Alurvelve pondered to just ride past it off of the road. To go around and avoid whatever hazard laid ahead. But where was the excitement in that?

Slowing his horse to a trot, the elven rider crest the hill. Just a hundred, maybe two hundred yards away was a broken wagon. Flames flickering at the canopy top and no horses to be seen. A cry for help soon erupted out from what appeared to be a man trapped under the broken wagon. Sighing Alurvelve shook his head from side to side in disappointment. His eyes scanning the area off to the side of the wagon. Just as he thought he could barely make out the back heel of a boot from someone hiding behind a conveniently grown bush. Just a few yards from the bush Alurvelve's keen eyes then made out the bottom of a bow behind a tree. A second bandit laying in wait no doubt.

Three of them at least he thought as he rode his horse slightly closer. Better expect six then, as he dismounted from his horse almost a hundred yards away. The cries from the 'trapped' man became more urgent as he called out. Alurvelve just rolled his eyes at the poor performance and slid a spare blade from his saddle on the horse. Flinging it forcefully into the ground blade first. It stood upright and he then grabbed the reigns of his horse and looped them around the hilt. His gloved hand brushed against the horses mane as he whispered "Don't go anywhere. This won't take long". A smile on his face as he turned to rescue the 'trapped' shemlen.

Clearing his throat it was time he put on his own performance. Hastening his own pace he yelled back in urgency. "Try not to move! You might cause the wagon to collapse on you. Just wait there! I'm on my way 'friend'. Just as he thought the moment he was just twenty yards from the wagon another man showed himself from behind it. A sword drawn and raised towards Alurvelve.

"That will be close enough.." he paused for just a brief moment as he noticed the rescuer was an Elf. "Elf. Drop the sword belt and face down. Who knows, you might even live through this". The bandit who was 'trapped' beneath the wagon then crawled out and unsheathed his own blade. "Francis, you sure this knife-ear has the coin to be worth this trouble?". A scowl crossed the first bandits face that quickly grew in anger "I TOLD YOU TO NEVER!"

"Wait" Alurvelve quickly interrupted. "Your name is Francis?" his smile widened as he began to laugh openly, and loudly.

"Shut up! you d@mn knife-ear. Or I'll gut you here and now". His voice full of hate as he spat out the words. The bandit next to him laughed lightly but soon stopped when Francis's glare settled back on him. Just then the two other bandits who were laying in wait stepped out from their hiding spots. A bow held in each of their hands with an arrow in the other. Ready to draw if needed.

The shemlen barked once more "Down on the ground knife-ear!".

"Now why would I want to do that, Francis?" Alurvelve once again smiled and laughed once he mentioned the bandits name. Just to anger him more. "The way I see it you have two options. One all four of you die here today. Or two. You and your friends strip down naked and run for your lives. The choice.."

Anger erupting Francis spat on the ground as he moved towards Alurvelve with his sword ready to strike "Insolent b@$t@rd!". Just as he reached striking distance Alurvelve's hands shot out wide in surrender.

"Alright. You win" his voice ever so calm as he reached down to unclasp his belt. Slowly lowering it and his blade down onto the ground. His body shifting just enough to hide his true actions. As he knelt on the ground, his rear hand slid into his boot to retrieve a hidden throwing dagger.

Francis stood there with his cocky grin returned as he watched the elf surrender his blade. His eyes suddenly widening as his mouth gaped open in shock. With just a flick of his wrist Alurvelve flung the small thin blade through the air. The bandit tried to move out of the way but he had gotten too close. He was not fast enough as the blade sank deeply into his throat. Gurgling he tried to call out for help as blood trickled down his throat. Dropping his sword, both hands covered his throat, one throwing the dagger out as the tried to stop the bleeding.

Shocked the other bandit near the wagon yelled out in a panicked frenzy. "Shoot!, shoot him, shoot him!". Both archers pulled back their strings as they notched the arrow. Just a few heartbeats later two arrows soared through the air towards Alurvelve. But he was gone, already in motion once his dagger was thrown. The first two arrows finding nothing but the open ground where he once knelt.

Two more arrows were fired and Alurvelve had already found his cover. Grabbing Francis and twisting him about as he ducked behind him. Thud", thud". The arrows slammed into the dying bandit leader. One piercing his abdomen while the other struck in his shoulder. What cry of pain he could manage escaped his lips, as his last dying words. Just seconds later two more slammed against his propped up body. Alurvelve safely behind it.

By now the third bandit was on the move. Charging forward with his sword against the unarmed elf. The two archers not wanting to risk once more hitting their own dropped their bows and drew their swords. As the first bandit came at Alurvelve he swung wildly, over and over. Alurvelve side stepping the attacks and placing his corpse shield in their path.

With a hefty push Alurvelve sent Francis barreling towards the other bandit, who moved to his side and avoided his dead friend. Spinning off as he pushed the bandit leader Alurvelve scrambled for his blade which laid on the ground. Quickly unsheathing its long thin blade from the ornate scabbard. The rapier he called Moonblade came to life in his hands, a faint glow emanating from it like a full moon on a dark night.

The three bandits were now upon him and working in unison. Instantly Alurvelve set into the defensive stance of a duelist. Parrying each of their attacks as he backpedaled to give them ground. With each parry of his blade he sent his opponents momentum into one of his friends. Causing them to stumble into one another. Just from the opening seconds of their flurry he knew that there men were no master swordsman. Sure they had, had some formal training with a blade. But nothing to the likes of what he had learned thanks to Lady Baranti.

He knew then what he knew now. The outcome of this fight was already determined. It was just a matter of time. Then, just like that his blade sank into his first victim. Alurvelve could feel his blade feeding off of the bandit. His skin turning a light blue as if he was robbed of his bodies heat. Frozen alive.

That spectacle was all he needed to defeat the second bandit, as they both reeled back in shock, their defenses dropping due to what had just happened to their friend. Swiftly Alurvelve then spun around and pointed the tip of his blade just inches from the third bandits throat.

"Drop it". He ordered. Without hesitation the bandit did as he was told and began to plead for his life. "Please don't kill me. I have a wife. I have children. Lots of them. Please don't kill me. Please". His knees shaking as he trembled in fear.

"You know. I should thank you and your friends". The bandit then looked confused at his words. "Thanks to you four, my coin purse is a lot fuller". There was just a smile as Moonblade pierced the last bandits heart. Wiping away the blood Alurvelve began to search the bodies. Finding a number of pouches filled with various coins. From the looks of things they had been quite successful until he had happened upon them.

Retrieving his throwing dagger he slipped it back into his boot and made his way towards the horse. Saddling up he spurred her into action once more. "Lothering awaits us" were his last words as dust kicked up behind them.

“HOLD YOUR GROUND!!!”  the superior shouting across the field. Pillars of smoke rose on either side as the army formed ranks. It was a large platoon and one individual could simply be mistaken for the other. Yet near the back was a young soldier who stood valiantly. His eyes were directed to the forest ahead as the putrid stench of dark spawn was already littering this once peaceful meadow, now it was merely a battle ground for the unholy. The shattering of armor and murmuring of voices could be heard as the whole camp was filled with fear. Their numbers were many but the enemies seemed more. Hearts were racing, as finally the hour came and the battle would soon rage. It was now that this….young female elf wondered why she was here at all.

~~~~~~~

The morning sun pierced through the branches of a tall shady oak that stood rooted near a stream. The flowing of the water as it hurled itself against the jagged rocks seemed to grow as the sun rose higher in the heavens. The tweeting of birds and squawking of crows began adding to the morning atmosphere. “Get up…”  an exhausted voice moaned from behind the monolithic truck of the oak. A pale hand could be seen peaking out as it stretched its finger tips being engulfed by the morning rays of light. Slowly a delicate figure could be seen protruding as she staggered to gain her balance. Her weary hand slid against the bark delicately as her breathing was low. There appeared a veil of drowsiness that shadowed her crystal blue eyes as she finally depended upon her own balance and wandered from the oak.

Her bare feet grazed the pebbles that littered the floor of the stream as the water gushed against her grazed ankles. Her arms were littered with bruises and scrapes that at one point gushed out blood. Her face oddly enough was unharmed and was like a white cloud amidst a darken storm. She didn’t know exactly where she was, except she had drifted far from where she originally was. It was a brainless decision leaving the Brecilian Forest. Though many would have thought her years of solitude was already insanity enough. Though being alone dose teach one thing at least, it causes you to understand you weaknesses and strengths, and it causes you to lose your humanity.

Her weak breaths hovered above a whisper as she kept walking, after splashing the icy water on her face she continued onward not even tending to her wounds. They were fairly recent, and none of too great concern. The tips of her fingers fidgeted in frustration, as her eyes darted from every corner of the wood as the one beautiful morning scene took on a more sinister avail. Every woodland creatures scurry cause her heart to skip a beat, she knew she was on edge but it was not because of paranoia that she found herself in this state. She had seen her share of blood and gore, she had lived for years within a forest of darkness and which said to horde great evil, but nothing compared to the bloodshed at Ostager.

~~~~~~

Cries arose from every corner of the battalion as swords and armor clashed. The sickening smell of rotting carcasses stanched the air, making it hard to breath. A layer of smoke descended upon the battle grounds the orders previously given seemed like mere suggestions not needed to be followed if the individual desired to live. Elysian Daughter of Grey Warden: Alomone and and Elvin mother Alicia Caledfwlch would have thought her life might have turned out different, yet fate with its misleading claws shattered her life at a young age. Now she was posing as a human soldier, on a battle field, needing the shedding of blood to rekindle a part of her that had been long hidden. Truthfully that was simply an excuse, why an elf like her would take up arms among humans, well the reason was simple: Nathan.  

~~~~~~

“Nathan….” She whispered as she collapsed on the ground here knees digging into the moist soil. Placing her hands open on the ground her nails dug through the ground ripping the grass from its roots as anger flashed over her sapphire orbs. Breathing heavily she lowered her head in defeat as her black hair slid over her face before her forehead rubbed shoulders with the earth itself. As she continued becoming one with the ground the snapping of twigs triggered her delicate sense of hearing. Her neck snapped up and eyes cast forward with a stern glare upon them. Slowly her teeth dug into her lower lip as blood managed to trickle down her chin anger boiled violently within her. Swiftly her right hand reached for a sharpened tock as she sprung herself into the air her body pivoting but in mid throw as the stone was about to leave her fingers she froze.

Her body slowly relaxed as she realized it wasn’t one of them, which relieved her to know she was not followed.  Why would she be? They had already taken everything from her. Silencing her breathing she retreated deeper and deeper with in the woods as her eyes became fixed at the panicle of the hill as she could hear the hooves of a horse nearby, carrying a rider. You could tell due to the weight of the horses footsteps that it wasn’t just carrying its own weight. Losing her bow in the fray she was defenseless if it was an enemy, honestly her previous arrogant attack would have proved little distracted if she was confronted with one of those monsters.

Taking in a deep breath she examined herself, dressed in soldiers garments was not the most flattering attire for an elf, let alone a human gladly she was neither so that did not worry her. She had paid little attention to the metallic skirt and tattered white shirt she had barely hanging upon her. Note, she had not been in a civilized situation since she was a little girl, and in the warmth and care of her family. Though despite all she had lost when she entered the Brecilian Forest the art of the bow still remained in her grasp, not heightened but she could still use one if needed, which made her regret dropping it in her sprint across the woods, and never retrieving it.

Eventually the figure of a young man had come into view; no it was not a man but an elf. Either way for her it was bad news, the scent of blood lingered all around him, and from the smell the horses hove save off made her suspect that recently this man had shed blood, but it was human blood, which made her curious. The path he was on lead to the city of Lothering, it was an aged road and that was the only reason this young woman knew her bearings. Gathering up some courage she dropped the stone in hand she headed for the path, to well interact. She had no desire to walk alone, she was already paranoid enough, and she had a slight hunch that this elfin man was heading this way due to the massacre at Ostagar.

Briskly she emerged from the wood and stood before his horse her hands opened, as she beast raised its front legs inches from her. Despite the commotion of the creature, Elysian’s eyes were focused upon the man who clasped its reins. A devious smirk was on her face as she stood out of the horse’s path, nodding her head in acknowledgement her black hair dangling over her blue eyes. “My name is Elysian, I apologize for the unorthodox approach but we live in dubious times. I suspect you are heading toward Lothering, no doubt heart of what occurred at Ostagar.” She paused a moment taking in a deep breath as she forced her voice to be more soothing and less harsh. “If it would not dismay you could I accompany you on your way there, I will be a mere vapor for once we reach the city you shall never hear of me again, I just thought it best , due to ever since the battle, these woods have been filed with more than mere ignorant robbers.” Her brow raised smile curling on her lips, as she glanced at his boot then deep within his eyes hinting that she was not oblivious to what had occurred on these roads. 

Rallick woke with the dawn, still in the chair he had fallen asleep in. Rising quickly he fetched his bag and began the days work. Dozens had died in the night, but none of their still bodies was a surprise. A few poor souls with tainted wounds still hung on, but the blight raged within their blood and he knew it wouldn’t be long. Poppy milk soothed them and soon they lay in a fevered sleep, never to wake again like as not. With a sigh, Rallick stepped out into the cloister and approached the fountain that occupied a central position in the small courtyard.

Drawing out a deep bowl of water he gazed at his reflection. A thick salt and pepper beard covered his lower face, with ragged knots of hair hanging down low over his forehead, the product of two months on the road. Grunting with displeasure he set about correcting things. The water of the fountain was icy cold as he thrust his head underneath its rippling surface. But after removing his dirty shirt and using it to towel his hair dry he felt almost human again. Next was the beard.

From a leather pouch at his belt, Rallick removed a cut-throat razor and a little hard ball of soap which he used to create a foamy lather. Six inches of straight silver flashed in the morning sun as he flicked the blade of the razor free of the handle and began to shave. The beard vanished as the wickedly sharp edge did its work. Trimming down until only the smallest hint of hair was visible between his lower lip and chin. For Rallick, this ritual wasn’t about aesthetics. He wasn’t narcissistic enough to think that a well groomed beard would make him more attractive to the fairer sex. He was well past thirty, with a thin, sharp face that spoke of a hard life and a dusting of grey at his temples. Only his eyes still held any beauty, as blue as ice and a thousand times as cold. No. He shaved in order to exert control, to keep his hands steady. The razor was so sharp that a moments slip in concentration would see it part flesh. In a way, every time he shaved he was daring his advancing years to claim him. To make his hand tremble and end it all in a rush of his life's blood. This morning however, his hand did not shake.

As he finished tying his hair back the a group of sisters came into view, heading to morning prayers. He smiled and exchanged pleasantries, but suddenly felt the overwhelming need to get out of the Chantry. Pulling on a fresh shirt and fastening his cloak he headed out the front doors into the town proper.

The place was a bustle. Merchants and soldiers and refugees all haggling and shouting and stealing. It reminded Rallick of home. Across the Waking sea and past the Vimmark mountains. Different people, different buildings, hell, even a different climate, but the poverty was the same. The all pervading air of downtrodden hardship under the heels of an uncaring nobility. Or maybe he was getting cynical in his old age.

Rallick bought and ate breakfast, then got down to work. Offering his knowledge and skills to the refugees and townsfolk.

"People of Lothering!"

Rallick looked up to see a dwarf balancing on top of a wagon, grabbing the attention of the crown with an impassioned speech.

"It was chance that brought me, a traveller, to your doorstep on this day. Chance that I happened to find myself in your village on a day of such importance. But perhaps, I am here for a reason. The Darkspawn are coming. They vanquished King Cailin, defeated his army, and even took down Grey Wardens. So, many of you may ask yourselves, what chance do we stand against such an army? The Darkspawn army is divided. Scattered. While they were united at Ostagar, now they are trying to spread their evil throughout the land. That means, if and when they arrive here, their numbers will be far less than the threat faced by Cailin's army. Therefore, we have a chance, however slim, to hold back the horde and give the rest of the villagers a chance to escape. Look around you! Many of these men were injured at Ostagar, trying to stop the army of darkness before it could reach us. Now we must do the same for them, we must hold back the Darkspawn to ensure they are safe. If you wish to flee, to protect your own family from this evil, then I shall not judge you. But if any of you would stay, and help me to save Lothering, then speak now! Whether you be man, elf or dwarf, let us stand united against this evil, for the sake of all Ferelden!"

An awkward silence hung over the assembled crowd. Like everyone there had breathed out and forgotten to breathe in again. Rallick felt the ghost of a smile touch his lips. Silently, he slipped around the edge of the watching multitude and approached the dwarf from behind.

“Get down son, before someone creates a scene.”

He paused momentarily. Trying to think of the right words.

“ It's not your fault. But these people aren’t soldiers. They don’t need someone putting foolish ideas in their heads about trying to fight the Blight. It's only in the stories that peasants beat evil armies. Now come on, let me buy you a drink.”

Twelve Years Ago

 
 
"Remember my child, it is all just a matter of will." Large green eyes stared up in awe as a dazzling display of lights and colors twisted and swirled in ever more complicated patterns through the air. The eyes belonged to an elf girl, no more than ten years old. She was small even for a child her age and almost unnaturally pale, as if she'd never seen the light of the sun. Perfectly straight hair the color of raven feathers hung draped over her shoulders. Only the very tips of her pointed ears poked through her hair. She sat cross-legged on a small patch of grass staring up at the wondrous dancing lights. The lights lit up the small clearing the girl sat in. It was obviously deep in the middle of a forest as the canopy high above was still thick enough to block out the sky completely. It was impossible to tell if it was day or night, and if there was any kind of weather going on it failed to penetrate through the trees around them. The area was like a magnificient living cavern made from the forest.
 
An impossibly ancient looking man with equally ancient looking robes stood tall in the exact center of the cavern in the trees a gnarled staff of wood and bone in one hand. The other hand held out in front of him seemingly tugging and pulling at invisible strands, guiding the lights as they swirled. "People like us are among the fortunate few child, we were born with the natural ability to change the world around us in a much more real sense than everyone else. However our greatest strength can also be our greatest weakness. For if our will and our focus falters for but a moment--" The man closed his fist and the lights were snuffed out instantly. The little girl gasped in fright as suddenly darkness enveloped everything.The old mage's voice came through the dark clear and strong, "If we are lucky only the spell will be affected, but Demons of the fade are drawn to mages like moths to a flame, ready and waiting to pounce at the first sign of weakness. You must remain in complete control and be fully aware at all times child, for magic is a far less forgiving art than any other."

Present Day- Outskirts of Lothering

 
 
A pair of large green eyes gazed out from the edge of the woods towards the small village. No longer the eyes of a tiny elf girl dazzled by rudimentary magic tricks. Mirrina smirked as she remembered that day long ago, the day Telemathras had found her alone and scared. The day she had fled from the templars that had come to take her to the Circle. Telemathras had taken her in, given her shelter. He had immediately recognized the magic that flowed through her. It was the same magic that he himself wielded. He had molded her from that small runaway into the scorceress she was today. She casually shook her hair back out of her eyes, the feathers woven in with it rustling slightly.  
 
Mirrina couldn't help but smile in full now. The feathers were from a large raven that had taken a liking to her years ago. She had named it Jynx and ever since then the bird was rarely very far from her. At the moment it was flying high above the small village. Normally Mirrina tried to avoid civilisation wherever possible. In general the common folk didn't trust magic, and if Templars found her they'd kill her on the spot. However, times were not normal in Ferelden. Mirrina could feel it. There was a darkness creeping over the land. Telemathras had warned her of it, the same day he had given her the name " Stormcaller" in honor of her natural control of the primal forces of the world. There was a Blight on the way. One that would be far more devastating than any other if left unchecked. 
 
Mirrina sighed and grabbed the ancient wood and bone staff that had once belonged to her mentor. It now had a small dreamcatcher adorned with yet more raven feathers at its top. The Stormcaller left her crouched position and broke cover, leaving the familiar shade of the forest and stepping into the unfamilliar rows of one of Lotherings farm fields. If she was lucky the Templars would be far too busy trying to oversee the sudden influx of refugees and wounded soldiers to notice one apostate wandering through town. Mirrina paused as she realized just how much she didn't blend in. Dressed as she was heavily adorned in raven feathers, pale as the moon itself, and carrying a staff that nearly screamed 'mage'. She shrugged, if anyone thought to question her she would tell them what she always did: she was from a clan of the Dalish Elves. She had learned that most humans didn't care about elves enough to question her outlandish looks further, and even most city elves had no clue what a real one of the Dalish looked or acted like. 
 
The apostate mage carefully picked her way through the field, that was for some reason full of traps that could catch a bear. Nearing the town she started to hear a voice more distinct over the chatter of refugees. Over the crowd she could just make out  a dwarf perched atop a wagon addressing the crowd in general.   

"...that I happened to find myself in your village on a day of such importance. But perhaps, I am here for a reason. The Darkspawn are coming. They vanquished King Cailin, defeated his army, and even took down Grey Wardens. So, many of you may ask yourselves, what chance do we stand against such an army? The Darkspawn army is divided. Scattered. While they were united at Ostagar, now they are trying to spread their evil throughout the land. That means, if and when they arrive here, their numbers will be far less than the threat faced by Cailin's army. Therefore, we have a chance, however slim, to hold back the horde and give the rest of the villagers a chance to escape. Look around you! Many of these men were injured at Ostagar, trying to stop the army of darkness before it could reach us. Now we must do the same for them, we must hold back the Darkspawn to ensure they are safe. If you wish to flee, to protect your own family from this evil, then I shall not judge you. But if any of you would stay, and help me to save Lothering, then speak now! Whether you be man, elf or dwarf, let us stand united against this evil, for the sake of all Ferelden!"

 
Only moments after he finished his speech a human man approached and said something Mirrina couldn't hear. But he seemed to be trying to convince the dwarf to get down. Mirrina once again paused in thought. The dwarf's idea was a foolish one, a single town standing up to the blight on their own was doomed to fail. She did have to admit that he had spirit. He was either very brave or very foolish. With a sudden flapping of wings her bird Jynx came to a landing on a nearby fence and let out one long loud croak and fixed one dark black eye on her. "Yes, yes I know he'll need my help" Mirrina glared at the bird. All it did in respone was shift it's wings slightly and continue to gaze meaningfully at her. "Fine! Fine, I'll follow him and see just what he plans to do. But that's it! I'm not promising you anything..." Jynx croaked once more and took flight disappearing over the rooftop of the nearby Chantry. 
 
Looking around once more for the dwarf Mirrina spotted a refugee who had apparently noticed her strange conversation with a bird and was now whispering to others nearby and pointing at her. Deciding it was best to leave before they had a chance to wonder further the Apostate quickly vanished into the crowd gathered around the dwarf attempting to rally them.

One Year Later, Lothering

The end of his long trip was near. Just another half a days journey and he would have Lothering in sight. He could feel his horse weakening from the long hard ride. Just as he swept over the next hill an Elven girl came out of the brush. Her hands held out wide showing she held no weapons. Alurvelve's eyes immediately scanned the surrounding area to see if there were others. Upon inspecting her from afar he noticed she was injured, but they were superficial wounds. Nothing serious.  .

“My name is Elysian, I apologize for the unorthodox approach but we live in dubious times. I suspect you are heading toward Lothering, no doubt heart of what occurred at Ostagar.” She called out. Pausing briefly to take in a steady deep breath. Her words were softer as she eyed his attire. Taking note of the hidden dagger in his boot. “If it would not dismay you could I accompany you on your way there, I will be a mere vapor for once we reach the city you shall never hear of me again, I just thought it best , due to ever since the battle, these woods have been filed with more than mere ignorant robbers.” That smile. Her eyes. The soft voice. It all reminded him of a past all too real.

His mind was flooded with memories of a time long ago. He could smell the street of Denerim as if he was there. The foul stench of dog heavy in the air. Alurvelve saw himself as a young boy, barely 7 or 9. Sitting at a table enjoying a piece of bread. He remembered it so well as that was the best he had eaten in weeks. His mother scuffled up his hair and then leaned in to kiss the top of his head. She had raised him all alone these many years. His father dying long before he ever got to know him. To this day he is still not sure if he ever did meet his father.

Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door. His mother nearly jumped out of her skin as a look of shock or terror overcame her. Quickly she knelt down and grabbed him by the shoulders. He voice rushed and very low. "Listen to me honey. You have to hide. A man is about to come in and he won't be happy. You have to promise me that no matter what he says. No matter what he does you stay hidden. Promise?"

Confused and not a little frightened he shook his head in agreement. She helped push him towards the pantry and closed the door behind him. Just as it shut she whispered once more. "I love you".

The door crashed in and his mother jumped with a horrified scream as the man forced himself into their home. After the breech he stumbled forward as a clear indicator that he was drunk. His words slurred as he regained his composure. "Winch. I'm done with taking no for an answer". He moved to try and grab her but she slapped him hard. The man then looked angry and backhanded his mother. She fumbled backwards and crashed into the table. Continuing this stranger grabbed her and held her down. "The more you scream. The more this will hurt." With that he moved in to kiss her but she spat in his face. Once more he reared back and slapped her forcefully. This time sending her crashing down onto the floor.

Tears flowed down his mothers face as she cried out. The man then straddled down on top of her and pulled out a knife. "Do that one more time, and this gets real painful." His knife traced along her throat as he spoke that final threat. He leaned in and his sickening tongue licked her cheek. "Besides Elf. If you just relax, you might just enjoy this". He chuckled once more as he began to kiss. The knife touching against her skin at various places. With a flick of his wrist the laces of her blouse were cut and he ripped at her top. His face dropping down into her cleavage.

Alurvelve's mother had been so overcome with panic and fear she had no strength. She could only cry. As the man tried to move things along he set the knife down to the side. Gripping her wrist as he kissed her once more.

Seeing his chance Alurvelve rushed out from the pantry. Almost tripping over himself as he grabbed the dagger. The stranger was too focused on what he was doing to notice what the noise had come from. That was until he felt the pain staking knife embedded into his side. He screamed out in pain as he sat up and reached around to slam his fist into Alurvelve's face, sending him flying backwards. Blood splattered across his face as his nose broke under the force. As the man went to reach for the blade his mother began to kick and scream with renewed vigor. Her nails digging deeply into his face as she tried to scratch his eyes out.

Trying to gain control of the fiery Elven mother underneath him his hands wrapped around her throat, and squeezed. Her screams stopped as he gripped her harder. Alurvelve now back to his feet ran towards his mother. Punching and kicking the man who seemed to all but ignore him as he suffocated his mother. Grabbing the dagger once more he twisted it and pushed in deeper. The man yelled in pain, but this time as he moved to punch Alurvelve he missed. Pulling the dagger out from the mans back he then sliced it across his throat. Blood gushed out everywhere as he fell over atop his mother. In a lost state Alurvelve stabbed him again, and again. Over and over the knife raised into the air and stabbed into the man.

He wouldn't stop. He couldn't. Soon the room began to get all fuzzy, fading in and out. His arms felt weak as if he could not long hold them aloft. The next thing Alurvelve remembered was waking up in a bloody mess. Dozens upon dozens of stab wounds littered the strangers back. A large puddle of crimson blood pooled underneath. He then saw his mother stuck under him. With what strength he had left Alurvelve shoved the man off of his mother. Her eyes were a strange blue with an almost glazed over look. Her skin paler than normal. Around her neck were purple and blue marks from where the mans hands had been.

"Momma" he cried as he cradled her head in his lap. "Please mommy wake up, please". Tears ran down his face and didn't stop. He felt as if his chest was on fire and he couldn't breath. With every fiber in his body he tried to scream out for help but nothing came.

The dead man walked north, with even, measured strides that caused his wizened, mummified flesh to creak about his brittle bones. He remembered dying, which was strange, the old him would have laughed at that. But he had no more breath for laughter. He remembered the sword. Digging down, down, down into the sodden, cloying earth, fingernails breaking off against stones and root, down to where the twisted mass of rusted iron lay. He remembered the witch. The scaled witch who hid behind appearances and words. She had taken the sword from his unresisting hands and given it back renewed.

“The dead should not walk among the living.”

He remembered pausing, reaching, searching for a voice to speak. When it came it was less than a whisper. It was the wind stirring dust on a mausoleum floor, it was a torch flickering in its vigil over a tomb.

“YeTheReIamwitch.”

His eyes', his new eyes for the old were gone from their sockets, saw his own words as a cloud of expanding meaning and interpretation. Drifting and expanding and twisting. The witch was a being of light. A smear of colour upon the dull, shadowy landscape that even now pulsed around him. Death had a way of changing your perspectives. He no longer saw or heard or smelled or touched or tasted. Those were the senses of the living. Instead they had been replaced by something else, a gift to equal that which he had lost..

“Do you know of any man who can raise the dead?”

Her words brought him flashes, memories of a man, of a friend, who had held him as he died, unable to do what he had done so many, many times before. Save the dying.

“I shallfindhim.”

Now he stalked north through a shadow-landscape in which living things were bright blurs. Men, his memories told him that they were called Chasind, called him the Walker. They made signs of warding and hurried their families away in fear at his coming. A dead man in tattered armour with a sword in his hand. Others were not as wary. Creatures, his killers, swarmed him. Throwing themselves against him in waves, screaming in hatred. But the sword the witch had restored for him was true, and they died in droves. Arrows pierced, swords cleaved and claws gouged and through it all, his sword sang. For what can weapon can end a tale which has already ended? So the dead man walked north. To Lothering.

Ostagar. It was the name of a place that now served as the grave for hundreds of dead soldiers, many Grey Wardens, and the very King of Ferelden. Alerik Ceorlic would never forget that horrid battle as long as he lived, having seen it from the top of a mountain while returning from a scouting mission. Even from so high up he could hear the sounds of the battle, but it was not until Alerik saw Loghain abandon the field that victory became hopeless. He had known many of the men and women who fought in the army against the Darkspawn, and at that point it was clear he would never see them again. Now instead of a battle the young huntsman was a witness to a slaughter worthy of nightmares.

After the army was defeated and the Darkspawn claimed victory, Alerik fled to the small town of Lothering, were he now resided. Technically he lived on the town’s outskirts near a path into the mountains since he knew that the Darkspawn would be here soon enough, but he still came into town for supplies and whatever else he needed. On this trip into the town he spotted a dwarven man giving a speech of the rousing variety to the townsfolk. He was attempting to sway them to join him in the defense of the city, but Alerik knew that it was a fool’s mission. The Darkspawn would come and the town would fall, but the only question was when the creatures would attack and how many people would make it out alive.

In answer to the last question, the young huntsman had begun setting up defenses near the mountain path to help in the case of an evacuation. He had set up various traps on the ground and barricades near the beginning of the path to hold off attackers. His own small hut was also built behind these barracks and near the mountain path. He had also decided to help around the village, doing whatever he could to help the people who wanted to leave get as far away as possible and help the ones that wanted to stay fortify their homes. It was obvious to Alerik that all who stayed would die painfully, but no matter how hard he tried there were some who would not be convinced to leave. And as long as there were people here Alerik would stay to help them escape the Darkspawn threat.

After finishing his shopping he went back into the local tavern to get a drink and talk with some of the townsfolk. As he usually did he got a stein of beer and took his usual seat, spending some time talking with the locals as he tried to drink away his memories of Ostagar.

 The dwarf looked at the crowd desperately, but their dull faces did nothing to contradict what Rallick had said. With a sigh and a sagging of shoulders he climbed down and joined the surgeon on the ground. Gesturing with a hand Rallick let the dwarf take the lead through the crowd, which was rapidly dispersing now that the show was over. Something flashed on the hammer strapped to the dwarf’s back and Rallick's could scarcely contain his surprise. Runes. Interesting. Rallick never used magic, finding it too unpredictable for his tastes, but he could tell quality work when he saw it. And this hammer was the work of no journeyman. They reached the inn and stepped inside, drawing a few looks as they did so. Rallick realised that they looked quite a pair, a bearded dwarf with the dirt of the road on his clothes and a cloaked human with dusky skin.

Years ago...

"Tell me something, boy..." The grey haired dwarf mumbled from the comfort of his bed, glaring daggers at the beardless young dwarf before him. "Was this the will of your Maker?"

Olrik looked his father in the face and replied: "Only the Word dispels the darkness upon us."

"Dammit, boy!" The old man roared. He made to leap out of bed, to strike his child and put him in his place... But Thron Grimloin could not leap, nor stand, nor walk. His legs were gone, taken from him by bandits, along with his wife. The area around his left eye had been badly burnt, along with his arm. Throwing himself from the mattress, Thron fell to the ground, flat on his face. Olrik hurried to help him back to his bed, but the man spat on the ground and cursed at the boy, commanding that he stay away as he used his good arm to pull himself back up. "I loved your mother. I put up with all her crap, worshipping a human god and whatnot, but look what it got her. All those prayers, all that belief... All it earned her was a quick death from a thief's blade." Squinting at his only son out of his good eye, Thron sniffed disapprovingly. "Well, I'm in no good shape to care for this family anymore. You're the man of the house now, Olrik, as much of a pansy as you are. You've got to care for me, and your sisters. Unless your blasted Maker is going to feed and clothe us, too." The elder Grimloin turned on his side, facing away from his boy.

The young dwarf made to leave the caravan, muttering a prayer under his breath as he clutched his mother's necklace.

"Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,

I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.

I shall endure.

What you have created, no one can tear asunder."

Now...

"I was 14 years old..." Olrik said quietly as he sipped his mead, while Rallick nodded silently. "My mother was dead, my father was unable to work, and I was left in charge of the family. The first few years were difficult, but the Maker saw us through all that safefully. Now, we do fairly well. I'm sorry, I must apologise for my stupidity earlier. In most circumstances I can convince a man to buy whatever I choose... But I suppose men value their lives too highly to risk them as payment." The conversation continued, though Olrik learned very little of his companion's past. The man was deliberately vague about his life, in a way that reminded Olrik of an Antivan merchant he had once met in Denerim. The dwarf found it unlikely that this doctor was secretly an assassin, but he was certainly hiding something about his past. Perhaps not anything particularly illegal, but the man was clearly keeping his secrets safely locked away.

“I must return to the Chantry my friend. The wounded will need me. May we meet again in more pleasant circumstances.” The dwarf repeated his friend's final statement, as Rallick pulled on his cloak, returned Olrik's powerful handshake, and left the tavern. Sitting alone at his table, Grimloin examined the other patrons and considered his next course of action. He had given away as many supplies as he could and bought as many as he needed (for a higher price than the residents asked), but his attempt at rallying the village had failed. Was there any reason to stay if no-one else would stand with him? Rallick seemed like he would stay and face the darkspawn, but if it were just the two of them, the village was doomed. Taking another sip from his tankard, Olrik prayed for guidance from the Maker as he muttered a verse.

Mirrina carefully wove her way through the crowd. It was easy to tell they were largely unmoved by the dwarf's valiant, if foolish, attempt to rally them into the defense of the land. The majority of them seemed more unsure as to how they should be reacting, as if they couldn't decide whether to cheer him on or boo him down. However before the crowd could make a decision one way or another the dwarf climbed down off the cart and walked off towards the tavern along with the man that had approached him moments earlier.

As the wayward scorceress watched the duo walk away an intriguing sight caught her attention. Two elves were making their way into town on horseback. The strange thing being that they were comming in from the north. This meant that while everyone else was fleeing north to get away from the blight, these two were heading straight into the heart of it. Her curiosity was only piqued further as she noticed that the woman on the back of the horse seemed to be sporting recent injuries. Mirrina slowly walked, not really paying attention to where she was headed. She was to busy carefully watching the elven couple. As they got off the horse they hugged, and Mirrina smirked as a dagger was subtly passed from one to the other.

"E.... Elf...." The voice cut through the stormcaller's line of thought and startled her. Whirling around for the source Mirrina saw a man... no, a giant standing inside a cage. The massive creature stood head and shoulders above Mirrina. Wondering why this caged giant was talking to her Mirrina asked, "Umm, yes?" The titan looked at her as if only really just noticing her. "I was not talking to you." he then looked off into the distance as if searching for something. Slightly annoyed Mirrina responded, "You said 'elf' as I walked by. I am an elf, am I not? I would assume you wanted to get my attention." The giant looked at her once again, "I was not talking to you, I am performing a mental training excercise. I will think of something, and then I will find all of the things that start with the same letter in your language." The response caught Mirrina off guard, and she nearly laughed. "So you're sitting here, trapped in a cage with a blight on it's way, and you're spending you're time playing a game?" The creature looked at her, clearly getting annoyed by her presence. "You would not understand." At that Mirrina laughed even harder, "You are correct about that, I could never fathom why anyone would rather sit around and wait to slowly die in a cage, rather than spend their time getting out of that cage." The giant once again looked off into the distance. He started mumbling in a language Mirrina didn't understand, occassionally listing something nearby.

Realizing that she was being ignored Mirrina made her way back into the town center shaking her head. Suddenly, and with a loud flapping of wings, Jynx came down and landed on her shoulder and crowed at her. "Oh, Get away, bird! Are you trying to get us caught? Like I don't have enough trouble blending in!" The bird crowed one more time and flew off, landing on the roof of the tavern and continuing to screech at her. "I get the hint Jynx, stop screwing around..." The apostate mage muttered under her breath as she grudgingly made good on her earlier promise to follow the dwarf and headed inside the crowded tavern.

As she got inside she quickly saw the dwarf, he was the only one around after all. He was sitting and enjoying a drink with the human that had talked him down from the cart earlier. Almost as soon as she saw them the human stood and put on his cloak, shaking the dwarf's hand before quickly exiting the tavern. The apostate sighed, she was going to have to introduce herself eventually, she might as well do it now... She drew nearer to the table and overheard a muttered prayer from the dwarf. "Though all before me is shadow, Yet shall the Maker be my guide." Mirrina came up behind the dwarf and leaned down speaking into his ear, "You may wish to look for a new guide if it was your maker that brought you here at a time like this.... Just a thought."

With a slight sigh and a heavy heart he felt a little odd just leaving the girl, but he had more pressing matters at hand. His friends were in danger. They had to be found, and fast. He took comfort in that she was at least armed now. If trouble brew, she knew where to find him. And knowing what was on the way, he knew trouble would find them soon enough.

His sturdy boots set a heavy pace. His silvery white hair flowing down past his shoulders, bouncing from the steady pace. He had been to Lothering before and knew his way around. Just hoping that no one recognized him from his last adventure here. Down the beaten road to went, the inn just past the bridge.

Just as he moved to grab the door it opened. A cloaked figure walked out with his hood pulled tightly overhead. A gentle nod of recognition was all he gave and moved to let him pass. Something odd struck him at that time, and he turned to watch the man leave. Taking note his path lead them towards the Chantry. An odd place he thought, for someone dressed so secretively as he.

Shaking his mind out of those thoughts he pressed in. The place was bustling with people, even more so with all of the refugee's in town. Scanning the are Alurvelve looked for his friends. They would be easy to spot if they were here. Two Dalish Elves in a city of humans tend to stick out. Even more so with how they dressed.

He noticed the bar tender spit into another glass and grab his towel to rub it clean. A few drunkards barking for another refill. An armored Dwarf sat at a table with a Elf speaking to him. A Dalish Elf! Alurvelve's heart raced for just a second, but new immediately from her garb she was not Dielza. With a sight and a look of disappointment he approached the bar.

With a nod he waved the bartender down. " I'm looking for someone and wondered if you could help".
The barkeep chuckled with a bellowing laugh. " Look around you Elf. Everyone here is looking for someone. Some poor kid can't find her mother. Or some family can't be found. But none of these sob stories are going to fill my purse. You understand".
With a smile Alurvelve slipped his hand into a pouch and retrieved a few coins. Tossing them down onto the table between them. " You can't miss these two. Most likely they even performed here for you recently. They are brother and sister. Two Dalish Elves".
The barkeep nodded and moved to grab the coins. Alurvelve's hand quickly snatched out and grabbed his. Shaking his head from side to side indicating that he was not done. " The brother is called Olek. He'd be tall for an Elf, even by human standards. His arms and legs are a bit too long for his body. His feet and hands just as disproportionate. He would have a mighty nose, and protruding long ears. Most likely his face would be covered in some sort of white make-up. His eyes perhaps surrounded by black circles, and his nose red".
He saw the note of recognition in the barkeeps eyes. Coincidentally enough, Alurvelve did not notice that the Dwarf he saw earlier fit a similar description. At least his nose. For a mighty nose it was..
" This is the important part. His sister is called Dielza. She would be a dance, a story teller. Performing in silk garments that attracted all men. Bells and charms would of been littered around her wrist, and ankles. Even a glittering belt wrapped around her hip to draw more attention to her bare belly as she danced. Her thick raven hair accentuating her emerald green eyes".
Letting loose of the barkeeps hand he eased back.
" Aye, I've seen them Elf. But they're not here. Haven't seen them for days in fact. Last I heard they had left town".
Something was wrong. The barkeep's muscles were a bit too tensed. Even with as hot as it was in this pub he was sweating profusely. Reaching deceptively Alurvelve moved for his dagger hidden beneath his travel cloak. He didn't have time for these pathetic games.

Scream suddenly broke his concentration. A man came barging into the inn with heavy breathing. " Darkspawn!" he cried out. " They've overtaken Bart's farm. They're headed this way! We've got to get out of here". Panic engulfed the room as people began to run, bumping into one another and pushing each other down as they made their way for the door.

Alurvelve's face grimaced in anger. F#$@ he thought. I'm too late.

Rallick rode through the dark forest with the two Bart brothers on a borrowed horse. They had found him at the Chantry, their eyes wide and pleading as they told him of the attack on their farm. In his heart Rallick knew that their parents were dead, slain by the darkspawn that had overrun the small farmstead but he couldn’t tell the two men that. All he could do was gather up his bag and fill it with the necessaries of his trade, strap a dagger to his thigh and go with them to try and find the unfortunates present during the attack. The brothers were just boys really, neither having seen their twentieth year, but they held to their parents survival with all the certainty of youth and he had taken an oath. To offer aid wherever he was needed. All this lead to him riding down a shadowy path towards the scene of a massacre in the middle of the night. As the three of them made their careful way a light rain began to fall, quickly growing in ferocity until it was a true storm. With wild winds and sheeting rain.

“Ma and Pa are alive. I just know it.”

Rallick didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say.

After almost an hour they passed the wooden posts that marked the boundarys of the Bart family farm and a few minutes later they arrived at the house. Despite his cloak he was soaked though and shivering, the brothers must have been in even worse shape. The three of them dismounted and hobbled their horses outside the dark farmhouse. Hope sprung anew for the brothers, the darkspawn had not fired the building so their parents had probably fought off their attackers. But other than the rain there was no movement, Rallick's gut told him that nobody was left alive. Nevertheless they began a search, the brothers calling plaintively for their parents.

Donnic, the elder of the two dashed about the yard, poking into sheds and stys while Mandar and Rallick searched the house. It was a long, low building with a thatched roof, everything about it screaming 'peasant farmer'. It only took a few moments to attest that there was no one hiding inside. The pantry showed signs of a struggle, several clay jars had been broken and their contents now lay scattered about, but other than that not hing was amiss. Stepping back outside Rallick caught Donnic's eyes, his expression telling the young man everything he needed to know.

“Where are they?”

Rallick shrugged.

“Maybe they fled into the forest?”

Donnic shook his head as Mandar joined them in the rain.

“What about the barn?” the younger man asked.

Frantic with worry, Donnic ran to the heavy wooden doors of the barn and heaved them open. It was pitch black inside, but nonetheless he stepped forwards and vanished for a few seconds before reappearing and shaking his head. At a loss for what to do the three men stood in silence as the seconds dragged out, nobody saying what they were now all thinking. Lightning flashed and for a moment Rallick was blinded. His vision returned in time to see Donnic suspended in mid air, starring in mute horror at the two blades bursting from his chest. The darkspawn hefted him to the side, letting the weight of his body drag it's weapons clear of his back. It looked straight at Rallick and howled.

With a sobbing cry Mandar was gone, disappearing off into the rain at a dead sprint. The darkspawn began to walk forwards, readying it's long knives. At that moment a second rounded the corner of the house, a dozen paces closer to Rallick than the first, spotted him and charged. The doctor reacted instantly, instincts grown rusty with disuse grinding and forcing him to meet it's rush head on. As he swept past he snatched up a wood axe from where it had been left propped against the doorframe and he raised it high. The monster brought it's shield up to block the blow, but it was a feint. Rallick sent the weapon sweeping down to cleave through the thing's leg at the ankle, severing it's foot. Squealing in agony it dropped, only to be silence by a second blow from the axe that split it's sternum a moment later. Aware that the other creature was almost upon him, Rallick tried to wrench his weapon free only to realise that it was well and truly lodged. Turning just in time he swatted away a thrusting blade with his left hand, loosing his pinky finger in the process. But the momentary respite allowed him to step close, draw his dagger and plunge it into the darkspawn's stomach, up under it's ribs to piece a lung.

More shapes rushed out of the darkness brandishing flashing weapons. Rallick shoulder barged the first to reach him, numbing his arm but giving him the opportunity to cut the creature's tendon at the knee, then punch his weapon through it's temple as it fell. Pain blossomed along his left thigh as another darkspawn's sword bit deep. Rallick grunted and staggered backwards and the monster raised its crude sword high in a two handed grip to deliver a killing stroke. But the old doctor lunged forwards, bringing his dagger around to slip into the thing's left armpit and through to it's black heart. Before he could disentangle himself something slammed into him from his right and bore him to the ground. Rallick's dagger span away from his hand and the darkspawn stabbed him in the chest. Feeling the blade rattle along his ribs Rallick grabbed at his belt and silver flashed in the night as his razor parted the flesh of the creature's throat. Pushing the dying body off him he was just in time to see another monster swing it's weapon down at his head.

Rallick was not afraid of death, he had seen far too much of it in his life for that. But he was surprised that nothing happened as he watched the sword descend towards him. The world didn’t seem to slow, not stunning revelations stuck him and his life didn’t flash before his eyes. There was the sound of steel on steel and then a wetter, crunching noise as a swordsman intercepted the blow meant for him and then opened the darkspawn's belly. Moments later the fight was over, the swordsman going through the creatures like they were nothing. Rallick climbed shakily to his feet, each movement causing his wounds to flare up in agony. The swordsman turned and Rallick finally realised what he was looking at. A dead man, his eye sockets hollow and his flesh torn by countless blows with a blade in his hands.

“Rallick Nom” it said with a voice like the first handfuls of dirt falling into an open grave.

“Myfriend”

He started at that, thinking that it was just bloodloss and pain talking, but the dead man stepped closer holding out the sword it carried.

“Ihavebroughtyou a sword.”

Rallick took the weapon numbly, distantly realising that he was going into shock. The dead man nodded, turned and began to walk back the way he came.

“Wait!” Rallick called out, “Who are you.”

The dead man paused and looked back over his shoulder.

“Names have nomeaning for thedead. But inlife, youknew meas Oren. Onmy wayhereIfelt two living beingsin theforestto the east, theymay requireassistance. Oh, and Rallick, that blade iswitch touched sobecareful with it.”

Then he was gone, the darkness wrapping around him as he walked steadily to the south. Rallick stood for a long moment before remembering his situation. Staggering to his bag he shakily began withdrawing the things he would need. There was no time to clean and stitch the wound so he had to make do with chewing a coagulant and wrapping bandages tight around his injuries, hoping that this would keep him alive long enough to find the people in the woods. Then, picking up his sword he staggered into the trees.

Branches whipped at him and he found himself reeling between trunks, using them to keep himself upright. The bandages around his wounds were soon soaked through with blood and numb with pain, that didn’t bode well. Images of soldiers he'd seen dying of the blight flashed through his mind but he pushed the thought away, there was no time to dwell on that. After half an hour, maybe more, of walking he found it. A small cabin in the bluff of a low cliff. It was little more than a roof and a few walls, creaking and bending in the wind that was still strong, even beneath the canopy. He staggered towards it and hammered on the door. He couldn’t hear anything with the storm and after a few moments his patience wore out. Head swimming, Rallick kicked the door, right at the lock. The old wood shattered and he stumbled inside. It was dark, too dark for him to see anything, but then lightning flashed again. Two figures were bound on the floor, elves by the look of them, at the sight of him they began struggling and trying to talk. Only then did he realise what he looked like, a bloody man with a naked sword come in the middle of a storm. It was like something out of a story.

Working quickly he cut the ropes binding their hands and feet. They were Elves, but what were they doing tied up in a hidden hut in the middle of the forest? His addled mind couldn’t puzzle it out.

“We have to go, darkspawn. There are horses at farm... west of here.”

Neither of them moved and Rallick realised with a faint touch of irritation that they were afraid of him. With a sigh he flipped the sword around and offered it hilt first.

“More of the spawn are coming.”

The female elf nodded and took the sword. Then the three of them were out in the forest, stumbling through the darkness with only the occasional flash of lightning to guide them. Rallick collapsed at some point and when he came too he found himself carried between the two elves, his feet dragging over the ground. They reached the farmhouse and another wave of dizziness overtook him. Struggling to stay conscious he fell to the ground, the female elf bending down to try and help him while the other ran to catch the only horse left. Rallick realised with a start that the others must have bolted when he was attacked.

“Both of you get on the horse and ride.”

The Elf's eyes were big in her face.

“I’m hurt badly and there's no way that horse can carry the three of us. The two of you might have a chance.”

She nodded, obviously torn between her need to escape and not wanting to leave him to die. The first urge won out. Placing the sword back in his hand she ran to where the other had got the horse under control and the two of them mounted. Rallick watched them ride off towards Lothering as sleep began to tug at his mind. His last thought before blacking out was that it really was a very beautiful sword.

The commotion in the tavern was frantic as people pushed about. Trampling over one another towards the door at the mention of a darkspawn attack. The fear hung in the air so thick that it was almost tangible. But Alurvelve would not let that stop him from finding the truth. He came to find his friends, and he knew this barkeep was hiding something.

Quickly like a striking snake he reached out and grabbed the bartenders arm and pulled closer. With a flick of his other wrist the hidden dagger jammed down onto the center of the Shem's hand. The human screamed in pain, but was soon quieted as Alurvelve's hand gripped around his throat and pulled him in even closer. The two were now just inches from each other and only death stared back at the human. Alurvelve's voice calm yet cold like a crisp mountain breeze. "I have no time for games Shem". Anger flashed in his eyes as his lip curled, his words growing stern and demanding as he twisted the knife. "Where are my friends!"

Tears of pain strolled down the mans face as he struggled to find the words. Stuttering. "I, I.. told him it was a bad idea. Some, someone would find out. He, he just wouldn't listen". His arm was shaking as blood pooled over his tabletop and dripped onto the floor. "He just, he wanted to make some fast coin. They were going to take his farm. He had to". As the pain crept up more he pleased to be released but the Elven Avenger would have none of it. His words falling on deaf ears. "Tell me!" he demanded once more, his voice rising.

The scene had now played out for far too long. He had gained attention from the local 'bruiser'. The man paid to keep the bar clean of all fights. Grabbing a small club he called out as he stepped forward "Hey! What's going on?". Quickly Alurvelve let loose of his which held the barkeeps throat and unsheathed his sword in the blink of an eye. Before he could even react the sword was outstretched and just inches from the mans throat. "This is of no concern to you. Leave us". As those final words were spoken the tip of the blade nicked the mans throat and he felt that icy grasp steal away his breath. The mans eyes held sheer horror in them as the seconds played out, and he quickly ran.

With a twist of the dagger in his hand Alurvelve turned his attention back to the swindler. "Now. Where were we?".
"Bart's farm!" he cried out. "An hour down the road. You, you can't miss it. Pleassse, let me go!". Gaining his information Alurvelve pulled the dagger out and wiped the blood away on the barkeeps vest before placing it back into its sheath. As he stepped out of the door Alurvelve looked back towards the bar. "You better pray to your Maker that my friends are not hurt. For if they are". He let those last few words hang in the air for just a moment. "A Blight is the least of your worries".

Moments later he had retrieved his horse and was riding hard. The rain pouring down on him from above as the skies rumbled alive with thunder. Lightning streaking through the air as the storm moved in. The wind whipping about and causing Alurvelve to remove his wide brimmed hat and secure it along the saddlebags. Immediately he knew something was not right as he arrived at the Bart farm an hour later. Even with the furious storm brewing above the farmstead had an eerily quiet feel to it. Death..

His head jerked to his side as something drew his attention. A horse came barreling out of the forest to the east carrying what seemed two riders. Alurvelve's hand instantly went to his swords hilt as he nudged his horse towards them. The other riders slowed their pace as they neared and as soon as recognition was shown Alurvelve flew off of his horse and ran towards theirs. Dielza climbing down from the back and falling into his awaiting arms. Her hair matted from the rain and her cloths drenched. His hand stroked her hair and tucked it behind her long slender ear. Their cheeks brushing against one another before they shared a long passionate kiss. He could feel her body trembling from the cold and terror of what had gone on. Her lips quivering between his.

Clearing his throat her brother broke up their reunion. Breaking the silence "Come on. Let's get out of here". Alurvelve reached down to Dielza's hand with his own and tried to pull her towards his own horse. Only to be surprised she resisted. "No" her voice worried, her large emerald eyes pleading with Alurvelve to understand. "You have to help him. Please V. I beg you, please". Confused he looked up to her brother who was already giving his retort. "No sister! He is a Shem, and besides it's already too late. You saw the condition he was in." She shook her head refusing to believe what her brother had just said. Her eyes swelling up in tears. "He saved us".

With a sigh he pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed it ever so gently as his eyes closed. "As you wish. But the two of you must ride on. Switch horses with me and don't stop for anything. Nothing, you hear me? There is enough rations to get you from here to Denerim. You get there and head to the docks. Find Zircon and I'll be along shortly." He then reached up and wiped a tear forming under her eye. As she went to pull away to do as he said he stopped her and pulled her in close once more. His voice just a hushed whisper. "And no more running off". She couldn't look at him in the eyes but just shook her head in agreement. Seeing them off he set his sights eastward.

Traversing through the light forest on horseback was a bit harder than he liked. But luckily he was just retracing the steps which D and her brother had fled, and it seemed as if they had found a small trail to follow. Almost half an hour later he arrived as a small cabin overlooking a bluff on a cliff. He imagined how beautiful it might look as the sun set in the falling sky. Unfortunately tonight was ripped right out from a horror story told by the campfire.

The night sky and the pouring rain was making it hard to see anything in the darkness. The moon was of no help as it was hidden behind the thunderous storm of clouds. Illumination only coming from the streaks of lightning. Something shifting on the ground soon caught his attention and Alurvelve dismounted and hurried there. A steady hand on his hilt just in case something was amiss.

Drawing closer he saw a man draped in a cloak. Bandaged wounds covering most of his left side as if he had fought a war single handily. Kneeling down he could see that the man was fading in and out of consciousness. Alurvelve knew very well that if he drifted off to sleep now he may very well not wake up. Reaching to his shoulder he shook him a few times and called out. "Stay with me hero. I'm not letting you die here tonight. But you got to fight for me".

Instantly Alurvelve went back to the horse and removed one of the saddlebags he had switched from his own horse. Pulling out several bandages and other concoctions he had gathered in his travels. The smell of darkspawn blood was heavy in the air. Like rotting flesh. "We've got to clean these wounds my friend. Don't want this darkspawn blood mixing with yours. Why don't you tell me your name". He didn't expect a reply but went to work imminently. Placing a small stick between the mans teeth to assure his mouth was open and he could breath. Or to give him something to bite down on if the pain ravaged through the growing cold numbness of his limbs. Again he spoke aloud to try and keep the stranger awake "That's a mighty fine blade you got there. Don't let it go to waste just yet. There's plenty of fight left in you". Grabbing his water-skin and keeping the two bloods from mixing and then applying several herbal medicines to the exposed wounds before he wrapped them tightly with new bandages.

Just as he finished up and was about to help assist him up and move towards the horse he heard his scuffled about frantically as it whined and kicked. On instinct Alurvelve began to scan the forest treeline looking for what had spooked the horse. And then he saw it. A large Hurlock brandishing a huge jagged greatsword stepped out of the forest. Flanked by at least half a dozen Genlock's with smaller crude weapons. Alurvelve reached for his trademark weapon and took up a defensive position near his fallen comrade.

The thin sword shimmered alive with a blue glow. The rain turning to ice the moment it touched the blade. The Genlock's circled around creating an almost arena like feel as the Hurlock stalked closer. Roaring into the night air as it beat its chest with its weapon. Scanning around Alurvelve knew his first estimates of their numbers were off. There were at least twice the amount he first saw. Well over a dozen Genlocks were now circling him and growling what seemed to be a cheer for their champion.

"Come on ugly". Alurvelve shouted out. "I didn't get dressed up for nothing!". Snarling the Hurlock leaped forward with its powerful arms, swinging with a fatal overhead strike. Alurvelve knew he could not meet the monster strength for strength and had to play his angles. Utilize his speed if he was to pull this off. Dashing sideways Alurvelve somersaulted out of the way. Somewhat cringing as he saw the mighty greatsword plunge into the ground just inches from the good doctor. "Hey!" he shouted out to gain the creatures attention once more. "Is that all you got? I'm not even warmed up".

The sly grin on Alurvelve's face spoke volumes to any seasoned warrior worth his salt. He had judged the Hurlock's reached and speed with just the opening attack. Already gaining a huge advantage to use throughout the fight. "Come on big guy. We'll go half speed. Try to keep up". Alurvelve mocked and smiled. Knowing full well that the darkspawn had understood his meaning for it growled in defiance and lunged forward once more. This time with a sweep cross from right to left. Through years of practice he knew exactly what to counter with. Ducking under the high attack which attempted to sever his head from his body and plunge his sword deep into the creatures thigh as he settled into a low stance. The magic of the blade coming alive as frost crept into the Hurlocks bloodstream and frosted over the wound. Slowing the brute even more.

As the Hurlock roared in pain Alurvelve mocked the creature once more. "Awe. Did the itty bitty Darkspawn get a boo boo?". Furious the monster staggered forward swinging recklessly with every ounce of strength it had. Step by step Alurvelve played to his strength and dodged the attacks. Staying on the defensive and parrying when, and only when he needed to. Lashing out with counters as he saw the openings. Littering the large monster with jabs that slowed him more and more.

Growling the Darkspawn sounded like the roaring thunder above and hefted his sword high into the air. Ready to strike a killing blow against the feeble elf. This time as the Hurlock lunged forward Alurvelve switched his tactics and sprinted forward as well. The darkspawn barring its sharp teeth as it roared and heaved down towards Alurvelve. Who quickly dove down towards the ground into a slide. Using the slippy rain and mud to his advantage Tucking in tightly as he slipped passed the monster, between its legs. Kipping up to his feet Alurvelve hastily spun around and plunged his keen blade between the exposed plates in the Hurlocks back. Piercing through and into the monsters ribs. Blood seeped down the blade and froze moments later. Ice seemed to spread from the origin of the blades wound. Covering the darkspawn completely.

The frenzy crowd of Genlocks died down as their champion turned to ice. With one thrust of a kick Alurvelve's struck the Hurlock in the back . Shattering it into dozens of pieces as he pulled out his blade. The moment of silence didn't last long and the Genlocks cried in unison as the charged for attack.

Just as the first Genlock was about to come within reach of Alurvelve, blood exploded from its eye socket as something protruded from it. Felling it to the ground. Then a second, and a third. Alurvelve looked around frantically trying to see what was happening and then a bright fiery blast erupted in front of him just paces away. Engulfing at least half a dozen Darkspawn and burning them to a smoldering crisp. The same moment that the fireball had exploded a flamed sword ignited in the forest and charged forward. A warrior in full plate barreled past two darkspawn and cut down several more. In just a matter of minutes what was left of the gathered horde was escaping through the forest.

As things died down three Elven figures grouped together. Alurvelve only smiled as he shook his head. "Showoffs".

"Xradin! Come quickly". Alurvelve pleased to his friend as he rushed to the dying human. "Tell me you still have some healing". She approached her friend and saw who he wanted her to heal. "But he is a Shem..." she retorted in disgust. Alurvelve's leveled his stare at her which was more of a glare. "D owes him her life" and that was all he had to say to make her kneel down and summon her magical talents. "He's wounded pretty bad. But he'll live".

Time slipped away as Drar set up camp and some defensible positions near the cabin. Darkspawn hated the smell of their own, so they use that to their advantage this night. The five of them. Four Elves and one human. Would rest here for the night and then strike out at first light. Provided the rest of the night went by quietly.

When the doctor came to Alurvelve greeted him warmly. Offering a bowl of stew to warm his belly. "Hello my friend. My name is Alurvelve, and I owe you a great deal of gratitude. These are my friends. Xradin" He motioned to the apostate elf who wore a red garment and long black hair. "Her older brother Parwyn" The large elf in full plate nodded his head with a hello and went back to focusing on his sword which was no longer engulfed in flames. "Drar" an elf who wore earth tones and fiddled with his bow. ."I don't know what your intentions are. But we're headed north to Denerim. To meet up with Dielza and her brother, the two elves you saved. Along with many others". 
 
"There is safety in numbers, and you are more than welcome to join uson our voyage".