Disclaimer: All characters and assets belong to BioWare, story line kind of belongs to me. In other words, BioWare, made the car, I'm only driving it.
Vigilance
Preface:
"Journey"
Running from the world was never easy, but I thought it would be alot harder then this. Every step I took I saviored, every breath I took I couldn't give it up, and every day was taken at pace. For a life such as mine I never expected to make it out. Trust me, a life of a Grey Warden usually doesn't last this long, well I wouldn't call this life.
The night had been young, the sun early set, as the wagon came to a stop outside an inn. The rain came down hard as we were unloaded off the wagon, my own boots sinking into the mud. As far as the drivers were concerned we were refugees, but we were mor then that. A family, soldiers, a gaggle of prostitutes and merchent couple, step towards the inn. "The next wagon will pick you all up at week's end" the drivers said, urging on the beast of burden to continue. I looked at the sign of the inn reading, "The Dancing Dragon."
"Funny I never knew dragons danced?" the one soldier laughed out.
"Not since for a long time," I whisped as I took the first step toward the door.
As I entered the doorway the hustle and bustle we heard from outside, was shut down faster then a mage's mana. The soldiers came up next pushing me against the door as rudely as possibly, rushing towards the bar. Next came the prostitutes, who quickly began rousing up the gentlemen inside. As the crowd re-ignited, the family, that had traveled with me for a time, came in next. The father, Angus, went to find the innkeeper, possibly to find a room for them. The wife, Deidra, a mother of two sons came next with one at her side and another in her arms.
"Do you think we can find a room here?" she asked.
"Don't think the little one will be able to sleep here." I replied.
"If we have to we will make do, the Maker provides what he can give."
"The Maker takes what he wills." I said as I took up an empty chair leaning on the back and placing my boots on table.
"Blight take you! No coin! No room, go sod off and sleep in the rain." I looked over to see what banshee made the screech, but saw that it was a dwarf, a rather old dwarven women. She took her walking stick in rage, swinging it in the air, trying to push Angus out of the way to flee.
"But miss we have nowhere else to go, if we can just..."
"I said NO! Now get out you flaming blighter." the women said.
Heeding the anger from the dwarf, I rose from my position and approached the two. "Angus...sit with your family, I'll take care of it," I said, motioning him to take a sit. "Miss if I take a moment of your time..."
"If you have coin, I have the time, by the way take that mask off, your making my guests uncomfortable." she spat out.
"I doubt any of your guests are sober enough to see, the mask stays, as do they, I have coin to pay for the rooms." I answered gingerly.
"I don't like freeloader," she said spitefully. "No deal, now get out before I call Bruce." she said taking a toothpick out, placing it between her lips.
"Bruce can keep napping," I said looking over to the elderly man in the corner of the dirty inn. "Twenty sovereigns will make due for their room for as long as they need. I'll need one as well, does five sound generous?"
She looked up, obviously taken by interest, and answered with enthusiam, "Well well, we got ourselves a deal! Tell the kid that his room is upstairs, you can have the basement downstairs, a customer such as yourself needs such a room."
"Hey Angus, looks like your kids get to sleep tonight!" I yelled across the room; he ten took his time to approach and reply, "Thank you, sir may the Maker bless..." "
"Don't even think about finishing that sentence, you know how I feel about that preachy stuff," I interrupted. He looked annoyed, but understanding of what I meant. I haven't believed in the Maker for the longest time, and as long as his family have been traveling with me,they understood my conviction. Not many did these days. As Angus and Deidra took their two boys upstairs, I decided to deal the mystic arts of Diamondback. Maker the coin I was literally giving out that night. I had never spent like this once in my time... I wish it was still my time.
==H==
As the last man fell drunk in his stool, the lightning and rain pounding on the wooden frame of the inn, and the inn-keeper fondling her coin, stood me alone at the table, finally a winning hand in play. I don't find much enjoyment in the fact that my opponents fell asleep blind drunk. I still passed the time playing amongst myself. Diamondback isn't the single player game, but who cares when the Fade is on your side.
I took my winnings, however small they were, and placed them into the pouch on my belt. The sounds I hear of men snoring and the whores moaning beyond the thin floors of the inn, none of which disturb me. What bothers me is the emptyness of the air, the stale taste of burning wood in the fire. I make my way to the counter, seeing the old dwarf finally keeled over in slumber. I feel no need to raise the blanket of wool over the hag, no emotion driving me whatsoever. The door leading to the basement is off its hinges, not a very good innkeeper i presume.
The door lifts by a wave of hand. I enter the dark stairwell.
The room is blank walled, only filtered by sights of a bed, firewood, and the small chair in the middle of the basement floor. You would think that a basement for an inn like this would be more like a storage. Something was amiss...a fire and candles already lit and prepared, no way the innkeeper did this, "How peculiar." I thought to myself.
As the metal of my outfit clanged against itself as I took my first self, I found myself met with the sound of a lock snapping and cracking...
"You best not move Ser." the voice whispered behind me, clearly trying to an impression. I turned around to the barrel of my assaulter's weapon clear towards my front. I began to speak, "I almost wish I had locked the door."
"Wouldn't of mattered ser." he whispered back. Turning my head back I saw four, if not 5 more cloaked men in the room, not counting the woman with the blade at the base of my mask.
"So I assume this isn't some heist, and this isn't the moment where I give you all of my belongings?" I inquired.
"No ser," the voice against the mantle spoke. "This is...a more of a greeting."
"Hah," I chuckled. "Some greeting, I've had better welcomes from Qunari and the walls of Minrath-"
"Shut your mouth MAGE!" one spouted, approaching me with fist in air. He stopped an inch from my mask. Gingerly, I replied, "Mage? Boy, you wouldn't know a mage if a griffon bit you in the arse."
"Bast-" he routed out, as he drew the blade that he thought would end it all..."Enough Thris! The Commander is our guest," the mantle speaker said. The one named Thris backed off, as did the woman. However, the arm near the back of my hood kept vigilant, and an arm pushed against my armor. I moved towards the middle of the room, being sat down like a lady-guest at a dinner party, how repugnant.
"So Commander...I hear you tell stories." The man spoke. His voice was sore, probably a chain smoker. He stood tall like a giant against the mantle of the fire place. He threw a match in pit, it quickly igniting. The flames grew fast, but I felt no heat off the flames. The man with the pistol against my hood kept his stance against me, no mention from the ringleader to desist or halt.I assume it was a precaution.
"Me? Tell stories?" I jokingly asked, " I know a few tales, but if you want to here a good story, I know a dwarf in Stark-"
"Commander..." the ringleader interrupted. "We don't have time for games." He was clearly a semi-impatient man. It was still unclear what they wanted at the moment they sat me down, but as the gunman and the leader argued over my ignorance and foolhardiness. What can I say, I know how to string out an interrogation. But for a moment, at least I could figure out who they worked for...
"Seekers of Truth eh..." I whispered.
"For Maker's sake, Casrhic! He knows who we..."
"Oh for Maker's blighted ass! What a brilliant guess!" I roared as my laughter echoed through the solid room. "Well..." trying to calm my outburst, "at least an old soul can still have a good laugh from a couple of cloak and dagger fools!"
"Silence mage!" he ordered, but my laughter kept growing, ignoring his pleas. The ringleader stood quiet, looking out the situation at front of him. The woman seeker stood at the stair, obviously standing guard, cleaning her dagger. The others just stood still as the gunman kept trying to bark his command at me. And then...in one swift movement, he fired. The shot roared like a High dragon, surprising from such a small mechanism. The shot went through my hood and out the other side. My sight falling to my shoulder, the gunman spoke, "...well at least one less mage exists in this world."
"You fool!" Casrhic yells out. Grabbing the pistol and throwing it against the wall of the fireplace. "We needed him!"
"For what, he's just another mage like the rest of them a-", he muttered before the leader grabbed him by the collar, throwing him against the floor. He drew his blade, pointing the sharp tip against his throat.
"Well...I'd say the boy needs a little pratice with interrogation," my voiced echoed through their ears as I felt their eyes on my hood. It raised with my movements. "You Seekers were always quick to judge, but like I said," I grabbed the face of my mask, gently lifting off from my hood, turning around the chair to face the seekers, and then again I spoke, "he wouldn't know a "mage" if it bit him on the arse."
As they stared at me, maskless, the energy within flowed out, arcing against my hood and the chair beneath me.
"What...what are you?" the gunman whispered. The leader turned from him, raising his blade towards me. The others followed suit, aiming their weapons towards my figure. I raised the arm of my possession, placing a finger on the tip of the blade, gently pushing it away from my body, and towards the ground. I took the mask and placed it on the emptyness within my hood, the energy wisping into my eyes once more as I spoke;
"How about a tale from an old Warden?" My voiced echoed etherally from behind my mask, striking each of the Seeker's souls.
"Now... stop your squabbling and take a seat, its quite a story."
(A/N: This preface was drastically re-written, I mostly hated writing it, but honestly I think it fits more then the last one. The time setting of this mostly takes after the events of Dragon Age II and Varric's telling of Hawke's story. I introduced the firearm to show the result of a whole new age of technology, what with a war going on. Seriously though, the evolution to the fire arm would be nice to face against hordes of blood mages, for the Templar side of course. I haven't decided yet but this AU is set maybe a hundred years after the events of DA:O. My Amell is mostly an ass just so you're warned. If your wondering why he is an empty shell of clothing with no face, well that comes up much later. It probably won't come up during my time with this story, but tidbits will show up hinting towards it. He is a spirit at the moment but no more spoilers! The story begins!
Please Review! Your comments will make me more inspired and a little more focused and focusing is awesome, unlike swooping! Enjoy!)