The world turns, and time continues its ever-lasting forward march and Ages came and past, leaving memories that became legends. Legends faded into myth and even myths are long forgotten. In one Age however, the one they called the Dragon Age, there is one legend that would never fade away entirely.
A wind from the Anderfels, from the frigid steppes of Weisshaupt, stronghold of the Grey Wardens. The wind was not the beginning. In this legend, there were so many beginnings, varied and unique, origins both humble and grandiose. But it was a beginning.
The wind swept across Thedas, through the tall peaks of the Frostback mountains, warmed by the fires of Orzammar before moving across the waters of Lake Calenhad, across the Bannorn through Highever, then to Denerim and through the Brecillian Forest, bringing with it the scents of the Kingdom of Ferelden to those who smelt it.
For the six who would become legends, none of them could imagine what this Age and destiny had in store for them. Their concerns bordered upon the mundane or near trivial, from mere survival to high political intrigue; marriage to curiosity and training to trial.
For the Fereldan Commander of the Grey, his concerns were on a scale much greater than theirs. Revival of his order was of critical importance. Their numbers were few and the years were not passing by any slower. And so began brave Duncan's six-month recruitment effort that brought him across all of Fereldan and the story that would shake the world for Ages to come.
-0-
"I suggest you reach for your purse swiftly friend. Ale may have dulled my senses enough so that I merely maim your pretty features, but should I become sober now I will be in a mood to show you a new realm of pain and violence."
Bellara Brosca is above all things, a survivor. One does not get very far in Dust Town the way she has, sound in body if they didn't have a keen sense of self-preservation. Bellara is a rare sort for a duster; or so the higher castes would have the rest of the world believe. Competent with a strong sense of family duty. To the residents of Dust Town, the only true thing that sets Bells apart is the level of her competency. The younger Brosca sister is frighteningly good at inflicting pain and intimidation.
The Beauty and the Beast, is what the Brosca girls are called jokingly by their friends and derisively by others. Bell is of a mind to agree with them. Her sister is beautiful - and it frightens her with what that means.
Brosca watches Beraht carefully as he speaks, the muscles in her arms tensing, fighting the urge to reach for a dagger and stab the sodding nug-humper in the face every time he looks at Rica, but bites down hard on her tongue with every word out of his mouth. As much as she hates this, the situation, their life and the things they have to do to survive, there is no other choice.
The smug look on Beraht's face as he leaves has Bellara's fists shaking with rage, and her face is probably as intimidating as the darkspawn themselves, and in a moment of utter frustration, she hurls a knife at the door from which the man who holds their family's lives in his hand just left through.
"Bell!" Rica cries out in alarm at the sudden violence from her sister.
"Sodding moss-licking, Stone-kissed, motherless excuse for a nug humper!" she shouts angrily as she slams her fist into the wall. "Fucking Dust Town." she breathes out in a frustrated hiss before pulling herself back together.
It takes one look at Bellara's face for Rica to know what has her little sister so upset. It is an old argument between them - one grown stale and sour like their mother's moss-wine scented breath.
The idea of some slimy, whoreson noble putting his sweaty, grimy hands all over her big sister is repulsive and absolutely unacceptable for Bellara, as is the idea of Bellara being little more than a filthy crime lord's attack dog and a little piece of that sweet and loving little girl dying each and every time a knife is rammed in between someone's eyes is to Rica.
"I... Need to go and see what Beraht's got lined up for me," she breathes quietly , giving her sister a quick hug before leaving the house to find Leske.
Bellara smiles a little when she finds Leske hanging outside of the Brosca family home.
"About sodding time!" he exclaims, a smile on his branded face. "I was starting to think I'd have to bust in and get an eyeful of that spicy sister of yours. Ga-row!"
Bells' hands instantly move to her hips and a frown easily makes its way to her face.
"I thought I told you that I never wanted to hear you talk about my sister that way." she says giving him the evil eye.
Leske, as always just shrugs it off like the glare that makes grown men quake in their boots is nothing at all.
"You're just jealous because you want the majesty of Leske for yourself, you shameless hussy." He says a smile on his face. "What do you say?"
He is only joking around, Bellara knows. He's not serious at all when he says things like this and its beginning to hurt a little less each and every time.
Bell knows that she's no Paragon of Beauty. The Beauty and the Beast, is the name the dusters use when they speak of the Brosca sisters. It's obvious which one is which. As much as Rica hates it and tells others off for using it, the name fits. Bellara tries not to think on it all too much, but she is still as much a woman as she is a fighter. She knows she isn't the prettiest thing to come out of Dust Town, but she isn't... ugly. Her hair isn't as long and beautiful as Rica's, nor is it the same bright, eye-catching red. As opposed to a burning flame, Bellara's hair is a dull and dirty copper. Her hands are hard from knife scars and callouses, her skin dusty, her face mean. But she isn't ugly.
She wonders, on days that she's feeling more than a little upset, if Leske will ever look her way.
Unlikely, she's never been more than just a friend to him - and she is fine with how things are between them anyway.
Her face though remains a perfect mask and retains its glare as she answers.
"I say that I think I may need to feed you your spleen," she growls threateningly, though there's a sparkle in her eyes that tells her long-time friend that she is merely joking. "Now what's the job?"
"Search and discipline. One of Beraht's smugglers is holding out on him." Leske reports, raising a warning brow to the 'good for him' that nearly comes out of her mouth. "Fellow named Oskias."
"Right, seems simple enough so where is this nug-licker?" Bellara says, cracking her knuckles in preparation.
"I don't know."
"What." Her voice is flat, and utterly devoid of any emotion as she states the word.
"Boss didn't say. His exact words were 'find him'. The 'or else' was implied."
It takes about three seconds for 'Beraht's Beast' to dig itself out of the flat mask she wore seconds prior.
"'Find him' he says," Bellara mutters angrily as she storms towards the particular edge of Dust Town where the beggars congregated, before singling out one she had used for information before.
Leske notices her mood easily enough - it's hard not to notice when Bells isn't happy - and keeps his mouth shut. Rage and aggression just radiates off of the young woman like the heat from the lava that surrounds the city.
It takes about a grand total of five seconds for Goilinar to cough up what little he knows after seeing the 'Beast's' expression.
On second thought there was probably no need for her to get so upset in the first place. Checking out Tapster's should have been the first thing to cross her mind.
"Let me put it this way, nug-shit," she tells Oskias calmly, and the smuggler has the nerve to look miffed that a brand has just so casually insulted him despite practically pissing his pants in fear.
"Beraht doesn't give a bronto's ass that you're 'innocent'. He says you're stealing from him, and that's really all that matters. So you can either fess up, and fork over the lyrium and leave here alive and run for the surface, or I can cut off your balls and put a knife in your belly and bring all the rocks to Beraht anyway."
Unsurprisingly, Oskias chose the former option and shortly thereafter, Bellara Brosca is holding two lyrium nuggets in her hand.
"You know," Leske says as they exit the tavern. "We only need one nugget to prove that Oskias was holding out on Beraht."
Brosca lets out a snort at that.
"Psh! Yeah, like anyone would buy lyrium off of a brand!"
Leske throws an arm around her shoulders with a laugh. "And that, my friend, is why you've got his majesty Leske on your side!" he says, a huge grin on his face. "I've got a merchant friend who would trade with us. We sell one, and split the coin, fifty-fifty. Whaddya say?"
Bellara slaps him back hard on the shoulder. "That salroka is the best thing I've heard all day today. Lead on!"
-0-
Her purse a whole fifteen silver heavier, she and Leske quickly and quietly hash out a believable sounding story for Beraht, since knowing the slimy bastard that he is, the man wouldn't hesitate to take their money as well.
The two dusters exchange quick looks before entering Beraht's shop, where to Bellara's silent distress, Jarvia - that bitch! - Beraht's second is there as well.
"It's about time you two showed up. What happened with Oskias?"
"He's guilty," Bellara states casually. "And this is what he had on him." She says handing over the one remaining nugget.
Beraht, is hardly pleased - but to be honest, when was he ever?
"One lousy nugget? You want me to believe that's all he got off with?" the crime lord seethes, his face taking on its characteristic red hue.
"He said he kept most of it topside," Leske puts in quickly, giving the story they had agreed on. "That was all he had on him."
Buy it. Buy it. Stone damn you, buy it! The two dusters pray fervently as they watch their boss's face.
"Very interesting," the crime lord says, his face deceptively calm. "seeing as how my cousin happened to be at the Tapsters this afternoon."
Nug shit. Is the word going through Bells' head at those words. Fucking nug shit. She curses as she keeps her face impassive.
"And he says he saw more than one nugget changing hands before that duster hit the tiles." He turns to his second. "Jarvia, search them. They got anything that looks more than they're worth, take it."
"With pleasure," that evil woman states with a smug smile before taking the second Brosca sister's purse, and emptying it onto the floor. Fifteen silver pieces and three bronze fall with a faint ringing as they landed on the floor.
Another fifteen silver hit the tiles as the same things was done with Leske's.
The shop is utterly silent for a long moment, before a loud crack splits the air as Bellara is laid out on the floor from a sharp gauntleted backhand from the crime lord and before she can even start to get up, Jarvia's foot forces her back down. Hard.
"You've got one more chance, Brosca." Beraht hisses in her face. "One job, and you split on this one, you and that sweet sister of yours are both out on the street. Is that clear, brand?"
"Crystal," she spits out, glaring at the man, when Jarvia kicks her again.
"What was that? I didn't quite hear you there."
"Yes sir." Bellara growls.
"Good." Beraht says, satisfied, nodding for Jarvia to let her back up. His second does so, though not before getting another kick in at the 'Beast'. "Now here's what I need you to do."
-0-
Fixing a Proving is a pretty bad offence - a whole House had been exiled to the surface for doing something along those lines. Tethras or whatever. Anyway, point is, they get caught doing this, they're as good as dead.
Somehow they manage to get to the Proving Grounds without much incident. And that's how she should have known that something bad was going to happen.
Everd is passed out, stone drunk on the floor. It's a sight Bellara has been a witness to countless times in her youth - moving Kalah from the floor to her pallet was a daily chore. It doesn't take a genius to realize that the two casteless dwarves are in trouble as deep as the Deep Roads.
"He could draw a dead man and still lose!" Leske exclaims in exasperation and nerves. "Ach. Beraht's going to kill us if we slip up here. He's already jumpy enough after that stunt with Oskias..." he says as he looks about the room nervously, before he pauses for a moment.
The roguish smirk that Bellara has always loved begins to creep across his face. He has an idea. It is an utterly insane and possibly foolish idea, but it is always brilliant.
"Hey, I've -"
"Got an idea?" she finishes for him. "Do I want to hear it? Because if it involves me putting on his armour and fighting in his name, it's not going to work," she tells him sternly, thinking up the stupidest thing they could possibly do to fix this.
"That's much better than my idea!" he laughs, which has her just staring at him. He had thought of something crazier than that?! "I was going to say we should go up in the stands and start a rockslide, but you're brilliant!" he tells her.
After hearing his idea, Bellara thinks that - yeah, maybe her idea had some merit after all.
"You'll go out in his armour, keep the visor down and then 'Everd' wins, Beraht wins, everyone wins!" he declares, waving his arm about Everd's room. "Except all the Warrior Caste braggarts who are face down in the dust from the Brosca Beast!" he chuckles, slinging his arm around her shoulders. "I sodding love the way you think, Bell. I was worried that Beraht was going to kill us!"
Pleased as she is by the praise, Bellara sees one big glaring hole in their situation.
"How, by the Stone am I going to beat them?" she asks. As formidable as her skills are made out to be, Bellara has never fought a trained warrior. Dust Town fighting was different from duels, where there were rules and such thing as fighting 'dirty'.
"Don't worry. You put on the armour and I'll go offer Mainar a drink. Easy. Sides, you're a Stone-sent monster in a fight salroka. Just keep your helmet down and lay'em flat."
She's glad that Leske doesn't seem to think there's going to be a problem - but it kind of hurts to be called a monster.
-0-
She manages to get through each battle - despite not having managed to drug Mainar. She manages to hash out some contrived responses that seem to offend some of the Warriors. Then again, her very existence offends them, so she figures that it is only fair, in some twisted way that she show them up like this. Considering how terribly easy they go down, if they're not strong enough to defeat a casteless woman, it's only fair that Ancestor's not grace them with any luck.
Though, to be honest the fact that she's beating the living sod of them has little to do with luck.
In fact, getting through each battle is more than a little easy. It doesn't matter that she's not fighting the way she normally does, using anything and everything she can get her hands on to bring the whoreson in front of her down. These Warrior Castes are just so slow. Never mind that Everd's armour is heavy and cumbersome, her hands are nimbler, her footwork smoother and her strikes are harder than theirs. Give her her throwing knives and these sodding bastards would have been dead at ten paces.
The only one who doesn't go down as easy is the Silent Sister - who is fast and precise with those blades of hers.
It's a bit of trickery and some real fast-talking that brings the woman down. Bellara thanks the Stone that the Silent Sister cannot speak - Everd being a woman would be a bit of a stretch.
Now all Bellara has to do is win the championship and -
"Oh sod."
Author Note: Goodness Gracious, trying to get a proper formatting is beyond ridiculous! There's probably some much smarter way that I'll figure out eventually.