I do not own Dragon Age nor do I work for Bioware. I wish I did, but I don't.

"Ok. How am I going to do this?"

Last day of school, my things are all packed up and ready to go, and I'm standing in the middle of my room with no idea how I'm going to take my bags to the car.

"No cart, all checked out. Need to make as few trips as possible..."

I start snapping my fingers as I finally figure out the order.

"Ok. Backpack, small duffel bag, sleeping bag. Come back for everything else, then one more time to make sure nothing is left behind."

As I start carrying the bags, I repeatedly give thanks ROTC's open enrollment Physical Conditioning course. I may not have gotten into the program, but it certainly made a difference...

If only I could see that difference.

As I kick the door shut behind me, a thought occurs: the way I'm carrying my bags, there is no way I'm going to be able to land properly if I fall. My mind quickly presents a solution: don't fall.

Simple.

But as I reach the top of the stairs, the ground starts shaking. Eyes wide, I crouch as I try to set down my bags.

"Ah, hell. Earthquake?"

Before I can set anything down, the ground jolts, sending me flying down the stairs. As the concrete races up to meet me, I instinctively tuck in my head and bring my arms up to protect it, dropping my bags in the process. I close my eyes and wait for the inevitable pain that was sure to come from the fall.

A moment later, a flash of green I could see through my eyelids causes me to open my eyes in shock, before I land, rolling awkwardly into the dirt.

Wait, dirt?"

Before I can process anything further, I feel something slam into the back of my skull and everything goes black.

Waking up can either be pleasant, or it can be rough. Waking up after sleeping in on a weekend with no homework or projects, pleasant. Waking up with a hangover because you were a moron and had too many shots with too little water, rough. Being woken up by a swift kick in the ribs by what feels like a steel toed shoe definitely fits in the latter category.

"God-fucking-damnit! What the hell is wrong with y-"

That's when I opened my eyes and took note of the longsword pointed right at my face.

"Meep?"

My eyes follow the sword to the gauntlet holding it, from there to the well armored chest of the man holding sword, and finally up to the bucket-like helm covering the face.

Ok, Brian. Stay calm and don't say anything stupid.

"You know, I know that swords aren't exactly covered by the NRA, but I think their rules about not pointing guns at people who you don't intend to kill applies to other weapons as well."

Or just say the first thing that comes to mind from sheer terror. That works too.

I can barely see the man's eyes, but I think I saw an eyebrow raise. Or was he blinking? Hell if I know.

"And just what makes you think I'm not going to kill you, apostate?"

I blink. "Apo-what now?"

Another voice, deeper and from behind. "Hold, Ser Bernhardt, we do not yet know if he truly is a mage."

"Wait, mage? Magic? Who the hell are you people and just what are you high on?"

A third voice, this time from my right. "High?"

"You know, on drugs? I mean, you're in full plate armor, waving a sword in my face, and belting off weird fantasy shit. I ain't got nothing against LARPing, but this is bullshit."

"Enough," said Ser Bernhardt. "We saw him emerge from that tear in the Fade that the apostate escaped through. For all we know, he could very well be a demon."

Oh, I do not like where this is going.

"Well," came the deep voice from behind. "It is a simple matter to determine if he is either a mage or a demon."

I don't even have time to panic before an armored glove grabs my shoulder.

"Relax. If you are neither a mage nor a demon, this shall not harm you."

Somehow, this does not reassure me. However, my misgivings have no effect on Voice #2 whose hand proceeds to glow blue on my shoulder before proclaiming, "Not a mage!"

His proclamation causes Bernhardt to relax and lower his sword away from my face, much to my relief, though he doesn't sheathe it.

I, however, have other concerns.

"Ok, first, how did you do that? I think you just broke a couple laws of nature, there. And two, that doesn't have any unpleasant side effects, does it? I'd hate to find out that you all aren't going to stab me, which I'm happy about, only to get, like, cancer or something later down the line. 'Cause that would suck."

"Maker's breath. Do you ever shut up?" Guy on my right.

"Not after a life threatening situation. I tend to get more talkative when I'm in danger." Or injured, or annoyed.

"Wonderful. You may put your sword away, Ser Bernhardt. I do not think he is a threat, regardless of how annoying he is."

"Oi."

I think I see Bernhardt roll his eyes before sheathing his sword. With the obvious threat to my health a little less intent on ending my life, I finally relax enough to stand up and take in my surroundings. Mostly dirt with a few sparse patches of grass and a couple trees. Not exactly the stuff of poems, but definitely far from civilization. Which begs the question:

"Where am I?"

I turn to face Voice #2, who happens to look just like Bernhardt with that helmet, who is kind enough to reply. "We are a few miles south of Lothering."

"Lothering?"

"Yes. Are you familiar with the town?"

"No, wait- Lothering? As in Ferelden?"

I think I saw his eyes light up in surprise.

"Indeed. Have you been there before?"

I ignore his question as I begin to hyperventilate. Ferelden. Templars. Mages. The Fade.

And south of Lothering, this place isn't exactly Blighted...

"What's the date?"

"The date?" I assume that the Templars are giving me odd looks.

"Yes, what is today?"

Voice #3 from my right. "It is the 13th of Justinian. Thirtieth year of the Dragon Age, which is the ninth since the founding of the Chantry."

Shit.

My voice an octave higher, I ask, "Mind if I go over by that tree over there? I need to do something real fast."

Definitely giving me weird looks. "I suppose... Don't try to run, though."

I cough to clear my throat. "Thank you."

I straighten my clothes, and walk behind the tree calmly.

Then I began to scream.

This was not how I pictured starting my summer break.

Not exactly the first thing I posted to the site, but it is the first thing I've written. And it's a self insert. That does not bode well. I will try to avoid the usual traps, though. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, so please review.