Before I begin, let me welcome you to the land of Fereldan, the blight is ongoing and the The Wardens are working hard to end it and slay the Archdemon; all unbeknownst to the hero of our tale, Marcos.
Marcos awoke before dawn every morning; he had to beat the morning rush to the local well. The town he lived in was sparsely populated and tucked away on the outskirts of the Brecillian forest. This location, whilst remote, did in fact have a major benefit; they lived in close quarters with the Dalish Elves that roamed the forest. This allowed the townsfolk and the Dalish to grow accustomed to each others presence, and eventually a friendship blossomed. Now the Dalish walked amongst them like there were kin! This of course led to a vast difference in culture between the townsfolk, and the rest of Fereldan. Their village had no Chantry, instead they worshipped the Maker, and Old Gods in their own way; which was mostly through a mixture of Dalish and Orleasian rituals.
Religion is not the only difference though, oh no. The Dalish aravels and Fereldan architecture formed into one, creating an open, but also tight feeling. The design of the aravel was brought out in the tower like structures that formed; every building seemed as if it was a castle, each possibly guarding another wonder, or abomination, depending on who you were asking. The town not having a chantry meant there were no Templars, thus the Dalish and Human mages were able to live in piece. It seemed as if this town was a utopia hidden amongst the almost dystopian landscape that is Fereldan. However, the town's solitary existence on the fringes of civilization usually meant it was slow to receive major news; and at this point in the time, that could be deadly.
Marcos raced to the well, and as he reached the top of the hill, he stopped in a fit of bemusement, against the early morning sky he saw the silhouette of a person he'd long given up hope of ever meeting again.
"Aneth Ara, Marcos!"
It was his friend, and lover, Lyana; a Dalish Elf. She was the apprentice to her clans Halla keeper. Marcos felt uneasy at her presence, because it was impossible for her to be standing in front of him. The Keeper of clan had assumed she was killed on a hunt, after she had failed to report in after a week in the forest, and had personally delivered the news to him a few months ago. He walked closer to her, tears beginning to swell in his eyes.
His lip quivered, and he stumbled over his words "Lyana? But how can this be, the Keeper, h-he said you were dead!"
Her face grew downtrodden, and she forced a smile, but the look in her eyes spoke of heartache, and pain. "I am, my love. I was killed in the forest by Darkspawn, but I used my connection to the fade to force a smidgen of my spirit back into the physical realm, so that I could warn you of the coming danger."
Marcos, being well educated in the ways of the fade by his lover Lyana understood immediately what was happening. "What danger my love, what comes this way?"
"A darkspawn horde comes this way, attempting to reach Denerim whilst the king is at Ostagar."
"What, darkspawn? That's not possible! Unless…." Marcos' eyes grew wide with terror.
"Yes, a blight is upon us, and you must get to Denerim immediately, the Darkspawn will be upon you at any moment."
"But what of the village Lyana, I must warn them!"
"There is no time Macos, you must leave now. I used the last of my power to place your armor and sword on the other side of the well, equip yourself and leave, or more than just our village will fall."
Marcos felt hesitant; would he really damn his friends to death, solely because some apparition told him to? What if this wasn't really Lyana, but a daemon attempting to trick him?
Lyana's spirit began to wisp away, slowly returning to the fade. "Marcos, you must leave NOW!"
He decided to trust her. "Alright my love, I shall leave at your behest, goodbye Lyana."
Lyana approached and gave him one final kiss upon his lips, "Ma Serranas Marcos, be safe and remember, my love for you shall transcend even death." And with that, she was gone.
Marcos walked to the other side of the well, and found his equipment; a steel sword of the finest quality, with a sapphire placed in the pommel, and an inscription that read "A broken vow, now fulfilled." Along side his sword was his splintmail armor, a robe, and his pack. As he suited up he turned, the booming of drums, caught his attention. Soon the guard bells began to ring, and the villagers awoke to see hundreds of bloodthirsty darkspawn sprinting through the streets, torching and butchering everything in their path. He looked on with the tears, as the home that had treated him so kindly for years was destroyed by these malevolent beasts. The urge to sprint to the help of the village almost overcame him, but he remembered Lyana's warning. With one lastm helpless look at his home, he turned and ran as fast as he could towards Denerim; with the screaming of the terrified villagers as his fanfare.
I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of our tale, I hope to update it at least twice a week, please tell me what you think, and please don't feel afraid to leave any critique, or even possible suggestions at what you want to see next!