Author's Note: This story will have absolutely no affect on the non-cross over Warhammer stories I am still doing, especially the Knight of Khaine series and others. Think of this as a totally separate non canonish thing. Also, I am writing this entire thing with knowledge from the 1st Dragon Age Game, as such I may probably make some mistakes about stuff here and there because I have not read the books or played Dragon Age II, so feel free to point stuff out.
Never in the life of Gottlieb Bauman had he felt such terror in his life, he ran through the brush of the forest with his azure robes tearing from the thorn and briar, he wheezed heavily as his body began to demand for respite. In all of his years he had never seen such a fearsome foe, he prayed to the Changer for aid and safety and thought he had been saved when he ran into a band of the horned ones. He had brandished his amulet with the symbol of Tzeentch and spoke in the Dark Tongue, he had then commanded the beastmen to slay his pursuer, they barely lived past twenty seconds.
Looking back he caught a glimpse of his pursuer, clad in shining armour with a cloak of snow-white fur, his terror came anew as his eyes made contact with the cold ice blue almond-shaped eyes of his pursuer. His pursuer's skin was pale, his fur cloak white like snow, and most dreadfully he carried an axe that blazed with white fire. Roaring the name of the god of murder, the wraith-like warrior pursued Gottlieb and nothing seemed to stop him, not the beastmen, not the sorcery and magic at his disposal and not even the few daemons he could summon.
His path was illuminated by a pair of azure witch-light orbs which floated above the warlock, as he ran he knew it would only be a matter of time before his pursuer caught up with him, not even the Witch Hunters of that false god Sigmar had been so relentless. The pursuit began when his coven had been performing a ritual to ask the favor of Tzeentch, everything had been according to plan, drugged sacrifices, elixirs distilled from the blood of infants, a tribe of beastmen with a herdstone and the full moon of Morrslieb, and then out of nowhere this wraith-like creature comes out of nowhere and killed everything.
Reaching into his belt, Gottlieb stopped to pull out a scroll, scribed in blood and written in the tongue of the Norse, Gottlieb began to hastily cast the incantation upon the scroll. The scroll itself was meant to be used in the event that he might be caught and it offered a way to escape, unfortunately he had absolutely no idea where it would lead and if he went through the portal which would open he would have to pay a hefty personal price from the Great Changer. Faced with the situation of either certain death or the possibility of it, Gottlieb continued his spell.
Gottlieb felt a great shift in the Winds, he saw the very air before him shimmered like the heat of summer, yet he felt the cold of night grow even colder. Looking back with grin, he was about to laugh at the warrior for being unable to catch him, he didn't have time to register the silvery flash of light which turned out to be a thrown knife which caught him in the apple of his throat.
Grinning with feral satisfaction, Khorieus stepped over the body of the human sorcerer, kneeling over the human he placed his right hand upon the hilt of his hunting knife and gave it sharp twist before wrenching it out, the human was still alive but not for long as the man's blood gushed out of the fatal wound, the elf took satisfaction in seeing the light begin to go from the human's eyes before looking to the opening gate which glowed with azure light.
Readying himself into a defensive stance and preparing for something horrible to lash out, Khorieus heard laughter echo into his mind, his rings glowed in anticipation and in a swift burst of movement, hundreds of chain links shot out as swift as a vipers from the portal wrapping around both he and the dying human. Struggling with the bindings, Khorieus twisted and jerked, his flaming axe destroyed several links but more emerged latching on to him, with a loud roar of defiance that echoed across the forest, both the elf and the dying sorcerer were pulled into the opening maw like a ship being devoured by a kraken.
Seeing a nightmarish kaleidoscope of images, Khorieus could hear the dread whispers of countless daemons with countless promises of many unpleasant fates, clenching his axe tightly, and the elf gritted his teeth and closed his eyes trying to block out the sounds and sights until finally silence came. Opening his eyes and hoping that he was finally somewhere safe, he found himself in what seemed to be a library with impossibly high stacks of books with, staircases that twisted and turned in maddening patterns and multi-limbed creatures with massive mouths leaping and capering about. His gaze quickly caught the sight of a massive blue bird-like creature in ornate sky blue and gold robes, the creature he recognized as a greater daemon of Tzeentch.
The Lord of Change sat cross-legged with its wings furled, upon its lap were a staff and a book and the creature spoke to the human sorcerer of whom was lying upon the blue marble floor which shifted in strange colors and patterns that were painful to look upon. Placing a talon from its left hand above the human's chest, Khorieus impossibly heard the human scream and the sorcerer's body shriveled into a dried husk, the avian daemon then looked to the elf with a disinterested look
'You are not supposed to be here' said the daemon in a rather uninterested tone
With a flick of its wrist Khorieus was grabbed by more chains, he shouted in fury as the chains dragged him into another portal which opened behind the elf, the daemon then demanded for silence. Soon Khorieus found himself once more in the nightmarish Realms of Chaos…
ACT I: BLUT UND FEUR
Kneeling into the muddy cobbled stoned earth, Kallian Tabris deftly worked her lock picks into the front door of a merchant's home. Hearing the satisfying click, she grinned and gently pulled her tools out of the key hole and placing them into a soft leather case. Securing her tools, she placed them into one of her pockets and her right hand went for the door, gently pushing the door forwards she peaked through the small opening to get a better look inside.
The room ahead was dark and she could hear the sound of a drunken human guardsman who snored a bit too loudly as he sat upon a wooden stool by the door with his head lolling back and resting upon the plastered wall. Shouldn't be too hard she thought to herself, gently pushing the door open she placed her right foot first upon the wooden floor board and then followed with her left. Her leather boots were perfect for this sort of thing and with practiced skill she crept forwards in search for any valuables.
Two weeks prior, a friend of hers named Arrisa had once been a servant in this very home, her friend had been forced to put up with the sexual advances of the merchant and his bodyguards as well as the jealous temperaments of the merchant's wife. Arrisa had stoically put up with humans for it was her only source of income to help feed her younger siblings, unfortunately that had all changed when she asked to borrow money when her landlord raised the price of their rent. She had received a brutal thrashing before being thrown out and told she was fired, so now Kallian was here, looking for a bit of pay back for her friend.
Kallian was told much about the house's interior from her friend and now she could confirm was divided into two floors; the first floor was a single wide open space with many pieces of furniture, a hearth and decorations for the entertaining of guests to her right. There was also a dining area to her left, she could see a door which supposedly led to kitchen on the wall north of the dining area, and not far from it was another door which led to a small room where guests could privately use the chamber pot.
After the door to the privy room, there was the stair case leading to the second floor, her friend had told her the layout of the second floor and she knew where the most valuable of goods would be. Crouched low and keeping her head down, she quietly moved to the stair case, her steps barely making any sound with only the lightest of creaking. The guard continued to snore and then slur something in his sleep, stopping in her tracks, the thief though oh why not and turned her attention to the guard.
Making her way to the man, it would have been easy for her to slit the human's throat, but she was not out for blood tonight, her delicate hands were wrapped in blackened leather while leaving her fingers exposed. Her right hand held the thin rope cord which attached the man's coin pouch to his belt, with her left hand she brought forth a simple iron dagger which she used to gently cut the cord. As soon as the last threads were parted the pouch fell, the container was swiftly caught by the thief's right hand, grinning underneath the cloth which covered her face from the nose to lower jaw she pocketed the man's pouch.
Moving back towards the stairs she placed one foot upon the steps and then another and began to ascend. The second floor had a hall way wide enough for three men to stand side to side, there were now four doors in the hall, three to her right, the one closest to the stairs was the guards room from which she could hear the snoring of another guard, adjacent to it was a small library and at the end was the study room. To her left was a single door leading to the bedroom of the merchant, here she thought would be where the fun truly began.
Roaring in the name of the Andraste, Ser Finnick, a Templar of the Chantry brought his long sword down upon the head of mercenary. Blood spattered his gauntlet and armor as the blade cut through the top of the mercenary's head, cleaving the cheap leather cap and cutting into bottom of the man's nose. Pulling his sword back and kicking the dead man away, the body stumbled backwards. Looking to his sides he watched as his three comrades lay into the band of mercenaries with commendable skill.
The Templars formed a line formation with each member being able to watch each other's flank. For weeks they had been hunting a Maleficar from Aeonar to Highever and to the slums of Denerim to which they were currently located at. Through the Maleficar's phylactery they tracked him into this dilapidated structure which must have once been the home of several families. The mercenaries and thugs who had waylaid them were obviously cheap and poorly trained miscreants who were no match for the training and faith of the Chantry's Templars.
Roaring again in the name of Andraste, he slammed his shield into another mercenary's face and his sword plunged into the neck of another, they knew they had the Maleficar trapped. The four of them were some of the best warriors among the local chapters, and even if they did fail they had over two dozen men waiting outside to put the house to the torch, he was confident though that this time the Maleficar would not escape the Maker's justice.
Marius was concerned, the Blood Mage continued to chant his spell and seeking to summon demons from the Fade to aid him, he had done everything correctly and yet nothing had answered him. He did not wish to go back to Aeonar, and he had little desire to die this night, surrounding him were the bodies of beggars, whores and the poor, both humans and elves whose flesh had been split open with their blood pooling upon the stone floor.
The blood flowed upwards into the air, each forming tendrils which connected to a massive crimson sphere which floated and pulsed with azure light, he had originally intended to summon multiple demons to posses the bodies, or to directly summon them into a corporeal form to be used against the Templars, but it had all gone awry. Suddenly he felt a presence, within the orb of blood he thought he caught a glimpse of a bird-like creature, it carried a staff and scroll in two taloned hands.
He heard the loud thud of a boot against the door behind him and he looked back to hear another thud. The Templars are here! He thought and began to furiously work his spell, he mentally cursed himself for being cornered and he cursed the incompetence of the mercenaries he hired as well as the local street thugs he had bound to his will. Words of power escaped his lips and he furiously began to pour more power into his spell, the azure light began to grow even brighter from within the sphere of blood which began to expand. His eyes were fixed upon the sphere in ways he could not explain, he heard the crash of the door behind him and the demands of the Templars as they announced his punishment and yet he could not take his eyes away from the sphere.
It grew and expanded wider and wider and he feared that he might have called something far too dangerous and powerful, something even he could not control, he heard the whispers of countless voices in his head and he wanted to cover his ears and yet he could not, all he could do was watch in horror, he felt a sharp stab of pain through his chest a sword punched through his rib cage and yet he stood still and paralyzed, watching as the sphere expanded. As his vision blurred and darkness began to engulf him he heard a dark laughter which sent waves of terror unlike anything he had encountered in his life, he knew that he was now truly damned.
Finnick stepped back from the growing sphere of blood and azure light which pulsed more brightly to the point that it began to blind him
'Dispel that thing!' he commanded and the Templars began focusing their energy upon the sphere which proved too strong. With a sudden flash of light the sphere burst showering everything in the room with blood, launching the Templars into the walls.
The impact knocked the breath out of Finnick as his armored body crashed into the wall behind him. He then felt a brief sense of vertigo as his body fell to the wooden floor and pain shot into the front of his body. Groaning in pain he managed to get up, he could hear the voices of his comrades as they felt the same as he did, he heard the sounds of coughing and wheezing at the end of the room and with his vision still blinded by the azure light.
Slowly standing he licked his tongue across his teeth and he felt that he may have chipped a tooth. Looking to where the blue sphere had once been, he caught sight of a nightmarish thing completely covered in gore. The creature stood up upon shaky limbs and he could see it wielded a massive axe of a design he had never seen. A daemon, or some sort of abomination he quickly thought, his sword was still clasped in his right gauntlet.
Looking to his comrades who had recovered, he shouted to them slay the demon. As one the Templars roared the name of Andraste they charged towards the demonic creature. With impossible swiftness the demon looked up to the Templars and charged them, he saw a pair of cold blue eyes which seemed to pierce his very soul. The demon shouted something in a foul arcane tongue and its axe blazed with white fire, the demon proved to be unnaturally fast and strong as its axe blade struck the armor of Brother Marik, his breastplate screeched as the axe blade sliced through it and into the man's flesh.
Marik shrieked in agony as unholy fire caused his flesh and armor to melt around the axe, the demon then swiftly ripped the axe out and struck Brother Desmond with the flat of its axe impacting against the side of his helmet. The Templar staggered back and Finnick was close enough to strike, with a swift thrust of his sword he pushed his blade into the demon's chest and his sword clanged off as if he attempted to stab an anvil. Ghostly white sigils flashed across the demon's chest and it glared its baleful blue eyes at him.
Swiftly retracting his sword and smashing his shield into the demon, the demon staggered back and was struck in its left arm by Brother Russel, the senior Templar's blessed sword only caused the demon to grunt in pain in a voice which sounded almost human before it swung its axe high and decapitating the man.
'NOO!' shouted Finnick as the head of Brother Russel toppled over and the body falling to its knees while showering them with steaming gore, the demon swiftly charged towards Finnick with its axe raised high and he rose his shield and the fiery blade crashed into his shield, breaking the bones upon his forearms, it felt as if he had been struck by a maul. The demon thrust its right knee into Finnick's chest and he was knocked back slightly winded, Brother Desmond then struck the demon from behind the head with a slash of his sword, the blade clanged off its head with sharp ring of metal and bright sigils emerged from around its head and the demon grunted in pain.
'Maker's Breath! What does it take to kill this thing!?' he shouted with frustration, the demon staggered forward from Desmond's attack it swiftly recovered and swung its axe into the man's left shoulder, severing the limb from it in a screech of metal and causing him to cry out in agony. Brother Marik assailed the demon with a swift series of thrusts and feints, and each time the demon parried or launched a counter, eventually its axe cleaved once more into the man's chest and this time he would not rise again.
Charging at the demon with Andraste's name upon his lips, Finnick rushed the monster with his shield raised; the demon swerved around him with blinding speed, its axe swung directly into Finnick's lower back. Hot searing agony blazed into his back as the blade struck, it cleaved through his armor and began to cause the metal, flesh and bone within to char.
Falling face first into the bloody, corpse strewn floor, he did not see the demon finish off Brother Desmond. Rolling to his back he thrust his blade forwards in what should have been a lethal strike into the demon's belly, it staggered back a little and grunted before bringing its fiery axe down into the chest of Finnick and killing the man instantly.
Breathing heavily, Khorieus took a deep breath while trying to take stock of the situation; he was surrounded by the heavy stench of blood and offal in the air. It was a dark room which looked to be of a crude human design, there were bodies and blood everywhere cursing at his predicament he moved towards an open doorway with the respective door looking as if it had been kicked down.
He wobbled forwards, still feeling dazed and somewhat confused from both the nightmarish kaleidoscope of the Realms of Chaos and the battle he had just fought. Leading into a dark hallway, he saw the bloody corpse of a human lying face down upon the floor; it looked as if the man had been run through from behind. Stepping over the body, he made his way down a stairway and into a wide spacious room filled with more corpses.
The bodies were those of humans, clad in a mix of dirty leather and rusted chain mail of a design he had never seen. The humans who had attacked him earlier seemed to have spoken in the tongue of Albion and yet most unusually they were clad in plate armour, how was that possible? He thought. He had been to Albion in the past and had found its inhabitants to barbarians who went into battle, barely clad like the savages of Norsca. Feeling a faint draft of wind and the fetid familiar stench of human habitation he knew he should get outside before more showed up. Stepping over the bodies, he went to the front door of the building and he stepped out into the cold night air.
All around him, Khorieus could see many dingy structures typical of the low quality used by humans and yet the design seemed different to him, he looked about to get his bearing and with sudden alarm he realized something. Looking up to the cloudy night sky, his eyes widened 'Mirai' he muttered, where were the Winds? He could not see nor could he feel the Winds of Magic.
He heard the ringing of a bell and the guttural voices of men followed by the barking of dogs, he did not have time to ponder upon where he was and all thoughts turned to escape, looking around him he darted for an empty alleyway and into the darkness of the human city.
Grinning with satisfaction, Kallian closed the door into the merchant's house and began to lock it. A good haul she thought as she patted the burlap bag over her right shoulder, it was sealed with a simple yet strong cord of rope and it contained several coins, gems and other valuables. Most importantly was the leather case containing several papers she had taken from the merchant's home, the kind rival merchants would pay well to get their hands on, the kind the watch could arrest a man for and others of the kind which would certainly cause more than a bit of trouble between the merchant and his wife.
Keeping to the shadows she quietly made her way back to the Alienage, wary of any guards, thugs or rival thieves. She heard the distant sound of thunder from above and thought that it would rain, more reason to get back she thought. A few minutes after she had left the merchant's house the freezing rain began to pour and Kallian cursed her luck, shaking her head she continued her way.
On the way back towards the Alienage she heard the loud barking of mabari hounds and the shouts of alarm from the City Watch, she froze in place and wondered if they after her, had she been noticed? Picking up her pace, she began to move more quickly towards her home. Carefully navigating the alleys and streets and making good progress, her feet squelched upon the muddy ground and she began to shiver from the cold rain, not far now she thought.
Quickly moving out of one alley, she moved into another, she began thinking about having a nice bowl of hot stew before retiring for the night, as she made her way she suddenly stopped and felt her palms begin to itch. Looking around her she saw a sudden movement in the shadows, with her right hand still holding her sack; her left hand went for an iron dagger. The blade swiftly left its scabbard and she watched as a tall figure, likely a male human come into view, she instinctively knew the human was not alone and this was likely the part where he would ask her to give up whatever loot she had, or die.
The man was covered with dark garments, perfect for sneaking about; she could see his blue eyes appraising her with a calculating grin.
'I am sure you know how this works girlie' said the raspy voice of the man shouting over the downpour.
'Oh no' replied Kallian icily 'I got this stuff on my own, sod off and no one has to die here!'
The man was certainly taken quite aback from her response; she could tell that he knew that she knew the man had some friends around. The man then sneered and continued
'So the knife ear has got a death wish eh!?' the man shouted 'Fine by me, we tried to do this all peaceful like!'
As if on cue five men emerged from the shadows, each carried short blades, some also wielded cudgels or hatchets. Having already been prepared for this, Kallian sprinted towards the human who spoke to her; the man was surprised by her agility and quickly went into a defensive stance. Lunging forward with her dagger, the man tried to dodge to her right, she quickly retracted her blade in a feint and swung her sack into the man's path and struck him directly upon the side of his head. The impact was enough to daze the man before she reversed the grip on her dagger and plunged it into the side of the man's neck.
'You bitch!' shouted the voice of another man from behind her. Quickly pulling the blade out from the man's neck which gushed with blood, Kallian left behind her sack as she turned around to face the other thugs. Leaning back with her head barely dodging the swipe of a hatchet, she had swiftly raised her right leg up into the other man's groin and her foot struck against his manhood. The man shrieked in pain and clutched his tender bits but Kallian did not have time to finish him off as another thug was already upon her.
Another thug wielding a pair of heavy short blades thrust both of his weapons forwards, she ducked underneath the attack and with her right hand she grabbed a handful of mud and thrust it into the man's face. The third man was blinded as mud got into his eyes and he shouted profanities at Kallian, she leapt back, almost slipping on the muddy ground as another man attempted to stab her with a knife and her right hand went for her second dagger. Now armed with two daggers, she swiftly had adopted a defensive fighting stance with her back to her sack of valuables. Three of the five men were closing in on her, they likely had just realized that she was a real scrapper, and were weighing their options.
Suddenly hearing a deep voice shout from the alley to their side, one of the men looked to his right and was tackled by a massive armored warrior with a dark fur cloak. The man who was struck was knocked off his feet and he fell upon a set of crude wooden barricades, the other two men swiftly attacked the warrior and in a sudden movement one of the men toppled to the earth, his head flew upwards with a bloody stream trailing behind it. She was amazed by the warrior's speed; she saw that he carried a massive axe which she doubted even she could carry and yet the warrior wielded it as easily as she could wield a sword.
Swiftly delivering jab to the throat of the other man who was attacking him, Khorieus then brought his axe down in a single-handed over head chop which split the head of the one he had punched in twain. After killing the human he stopped to get his bearings, ahead of him was the man he had shoved forward, the human looked at him fearfully, behind him was a crude wooden barricade which blocked his path, the Chracian then looked to his sides and saw to his right two more men, one was clutching his genitals with one hand and he held a blade in the other, the other man was rubbing something out of his eyes.
Suddenly hearing a groan from the human by the barricade as he tried to get up, Khorieus thrust the bottom of his axe handle into the man's chest; he felt the satisfying crack of bones before leaving the man alone to slump down. Khorieus then looked to his left to see a slender black cloaked figure with a similarly black kerchief covering its mouth and wielding a pair of crude looking blades in a defensive stance. The cloaked one was slowly backing away, he saw emerald-green eyes looking to him warily, before he could say or do anything, Khorieus heard the loud barking of two hounds behind him.
Swiftly turning back, he watched as a massive hound leapt towards him, he raised his axe up in time for its jaws to clamp down upon the shaft, its paws clawed against his armor and he looked into the beast's eyes which balefully glared at him. As the hound's jaws held the axe in a vice-like grip, Khorieus saw the other one coming towards him. Swiftly shifting the weight to his left and letting go, the beast crashed down into the earth and he delivered a swift knee kick to the side of its head. The hound yelped in pain and the Chracian swiftly ripped his knife from its sheath and he stabbed it in the back of its head with all of his strength, the hound whimpered pitifully before death claimed it.
The other hound angrily bit into the left boot of Khorieus, its jaws held the enchanted Ithilmar plates which glowed with protective runes. He forced his hunting knife out of the one he had killed and plunged the blade into the other hound's skull, the beast died instantly and he ripped the blade out. Hearing the shouts of the men who were chasing him, Khorieus turned to his right but he saw the two men who seemed incapacitated were now dead with crossbow bolts piercing their bodies.
Standing over the two bodies were four more men in chain armour, two held torches and swords while the other two held loaded crossbows which were aimed at him.
'Lord of-' he hissed, but the sudden impact of two crossbow bolts interrupted him as both struck against his chest, the enchanted armour held and Khorieus was staggered back from the blow, he looked to the humans who attacked him with an all-consuming anger, he roared like the lions of his home and charged in the direction of the shooters.
The swordsmen swore and charged at Khorieus who effortlessly cut down one man with a sweep to his right and slaying the other with a return swipe, the murder-lust descended upon him and he staggered back from the impact of another crossbow bolt which struck against his armoured right thigh and another hitting his left pauldron, the Ithilmar plates held on both occasions and he charged forwards.
With his axe raised high he brought his ancestral weapon down upon one of the crossbowmen and the blade buried itself over the man's left shoulder and cutting into his heart. The other crossbowman struck the High Elf with the stock of his crossbow, the weapon impacted again side of his head, striking the helmet which glowed once more and giving the elf a minor dizzying feeling. With an aggressive sweep, Khorieus severed the man's head from his neck and blood sprayed out mixing with the freezing rain.
Hearing the rapid steps of the slender cloaked figure running towards him, he looked to his left and noted it was carrying a sack in its right hand and a short blade in its left, it looked to him but he could see it was trying to avoid him and not desiring a fight, behind the cloaked one were more hounds and armed men. He allowed the cloaked one to go past him without harm and he saw several men emerging from the alleyway from which he entered.
Swiftly counting at least a dozen men now, Khorieus decided to withdraw and follow the cloaked one, suddenly he heard an angry curse from a surprisingly feminine voice. Khorieus looked to back to the direction of where he had killed the four men now and he saw several armoured men coming in that direction. The cloaked one halted and began letting loose a stream of curses, she dropped her sack and pulled out another blade, grimly Khorieus decided that he should deal with the hounds first.
Kallian swore once more as she found herself surrounded on all sides by the City Watch, she had counted at least a dozen men and two mabari behind her, and now eight in front of her. She loudly cursed again at her luck, looking back she was a bit relieved the massive warrior did not seem to mind her, she had caught a glimpse of his features and he seemed very strange to her. The warrior was taller than any human she had known and he was broad too, his face though seemed surprisingly elven but he couldn't possibly be an elf she thought, for her people could not possibly grow so large.
With sudden burst of movement the warrior charged towards the mabari hounds, one of the creatures leapt towards the warrior who side-stepped at the last moment and brought his axe down upon its spine, the second hound had missed the warrior as well, it skidded forwards for moment upon the muddy earth it turned around to face the warrior, in time for his axe to crash into its skull and cutting the beast's head in two.
Without missing a beat the warrior then charged towards the watchmen with axe raised high and roaring the name of some unknown deity. Seeing the other band watchmen swiftly closing in she ran after the warrior while picking up her sack, she hoped that she could get him between her and the watchmen. As she ran she could see the bloody ruin the warrior was wreaking, his axe slashed left and right, each strike rending limbs and flesh with blood mixing with the rain and mud. She saw as a watchman raised his shield against the warrior and the axe cut through it as if it were kindling and severing the watchman's arm from below the elbow.
She ducked underneath the return swing of one cleaving strike which beheaded a man, she thrust her dagger forward into the throat of the watchman behind the headless one and retracted it in time to parry the blade of another. Kicking another man in the groin and weaving past him, she dodged the overhead chop of a watchman's axe and slammed her bag into another watchman's head. The man staggered from the attack and she drove her dagger up his lower jaw, tossing the bag behind her and pulling out her other dagger again she swiftly raised her left dagger to block a sword and used her right to stab her attacker in the gut, the man briefly grunted in pain with blood coming out of his mouth before an axe severed his head from his neck.
Roaring loudly with adrenaline coursing through his veins, Khorieus decapitated another man and he severed the arm of another, these humans were poor fighters, they reminded him of the Men-at-Arms used by the Bretonnians. Spinning his body to his right with his axe following, he struck a man in the left side of his chest with his axe digging into where the human's heart should be.
As the human fell, the area around him was clear and he could see the larger group of humans ahead now cautiously approaching him. He noted the cloaked woman was breathing heavily beside him with bloody blades out and facing the humans. Looking back to the humans he could see the fear in their eyes and the desire to run clearly upon them.
'FIGHT ME!' he shouted in Reikspiel, before repeating again but switching to Breton.
This seemed to generate a response from the humans who looked to each other and began muttering to one another, he shouted again in Breton, trying to provoke them. As one the humans launched another assault, this time in a much larger group and Khorieus gave a feral grin in amusement, three men armed with crossbows opened fired, one of the bolts struck the Charcian over his heart, his armour held once more as the bolt shattered, but the woman had not been as lucky as a bolt caught her in the gut and another to her right thigh. Hardly caring for the woman's condition, he roared the name of Khaine and charged towards them with his axe trailing behind him. He shouted the command word of his axe and as he spun, the blade ignited in white fire which caused the droplets of rain to evaporate around it.
The closest human was caught by surprise from the fiery axe which cleaved through the man's belly and spilling seared entrails into the mud and it struck the man to his side as well and he fell to his knees. Khorieus accepted the strike of a sword which had been thrust to his midsection, the point of the iron blade struck against enchanted Ithilmar plates and shattered from the impact, the Chracian returned with a bloody sweep of his axe which killed more men.
He laughed and shouted in savage fury as the slaughter began; he counted the numbers to which they were diminishing and soon their morale was broken and they fled, but not before Khorieus pursued and killed at least three more men. Breathing heavily with his breath misting in the cold, he could hear the groans of pain from the men who were not dead yet. Had they been beastmen, greenskins,Druchii or Chaos worshippers he would have swiftly ended what little lives they had left, but as they were just humans he stayed his hand and further surveyed the area.
Satisfied that the area was clear he looked back at the direction of the cloaked woman he decided to see if he could help her for he needed information. Finding two bloody crossbow bolts which had been pulled out and left in the mud, he could see that she tried to crawl away with, her right hand held the top of a heavy sack and with her left she used to drag herself away. The cloaked woman had only succeeded in crawling away for such a short distance that she was barely five steps away from where she had been shot.
Walking towards the woman with her face still facing down with blood mixing with the muddy earth, he whispered for his axe to calm down before stowing it away upon his back. Standing over the woman, he placed his boot underneath her chest and he rolled her upon her back, the woman grunted and he looked down to see emerald-green eyes which were unfocused as if in a daze. Kneeling down he could see the pale skin of her forehead, pulling down the cloth covering the woman's mouth and was surprised to find her features as of being rather elven.
The maiden was small, a child perhaps? And her garments suggested that perhaps she was a thief. He had many questions to ask her but he had no idea what language to use, the humans did not understand Reikspiel and Breton seemed familiar to them but it also had given them the courage to attack. He thought about using the language of Albion but his knowledge of it was rather limited. Reaching for his amulet, he gently removed the piece of jewelry and placed it around her neck; he then held the amulet up to his lips and began whispering a prayer to Isha.
Feeling a profound sense of warmth like a summer sun without its harshness, Kallian slowly opened her eyes to see the face of the warrior. She could see his cold ice blue eyes staring directly into her own as he whispered in an arcane tongue towards a beautiful necklace which had been placed around her neck which glowed with a comforting light. She stared at the warrior, freezing up like a cat before a galloping horse, she saw what the warrior did to those watchmen and since he was still alive it obviously meant that he had either killed them all or driven them off.
As soon as the warrior stopped whispering he gently removed the amulet, she did not want to do anything to start an unnecessary fight now. Nervously, she said 'uh… hey', the warrior stopped and tilted his head, he had shouted at the watchmen in foreign languages and for all she knew he did not understand the common tongue, she did hear what she thought was Orlesian though.
'I greet you' replied the warrior haltingly and with a thick accent. Rising up, the warrior took a step back and he handed her the burlap sack, taking the sack she nodded with relief.
'Well thanks I guess' she said, the warrior stared at her and she thought he may have been studying her words.
'Where here? Albion?' he asked as he clearly struggled with the words
'Albion? Don't know where that is, this is Denerim' she replied and she was starting to grow worried, she knew the Watch would return with help.
'De-ne-rim?' he asked again clearly confused 'no Albion?' Kallian had no idea what or where Albion was but she knew now was hardly the time for it; she looked around worriedly and gestured for the warrior to follow her. 'More men?' he asked, Kallian nodded towards the warrior, he acquiesced and began to follow her to the Alienage.
Walking to the front door which pounded loudly, Cyrion Tabris knew exactly who it would be outside at such an hour. Yawning loudly he opened the door to see his daughter; relief mixed frustration warred within him as he knew she had been out again causing trouble. His eyes quickly widened in alarm as he swiftly noted the massive blue-eyed warrior in silverite armor behind her. Looking back to his daughter with a questioning look she then simply said 'he is a friend, I will explain inside'. Stepping back and allowing his daughter and the massive warrior in, he noted that she carried a heavy sack which jingled with the sound of coins and other objects he was briefly and yet sadly reminded of his late wife Adaia.
The warrior was much taller and broader than both he and Kallian by more than a few feet. The warrior gave a respectful bow and was ushered to a table with two chairs by his daughter. The warrior curtly gave thanks in a strangely accented voice before setting a massive axe, a white wood bow and a quiver upon the top of the table, he noted every piece of the warrior's equipment was of an elegant design he had never seen; the warrior then moved towards the hearth and began removing his gauntlets. His daughter as well had already removed her gloves and pulled down her hood to reveal her long raven black hair. The two then crouched near the hearth with hands extended near the flames.
He could hear the rain from the outside; the two must have been freezing. Leaving the two by the fire, Cyrion went towards the shelf by the keg which they kept near their door. Picking up a pair of clay cups and a bottle of cheap wine, he poured the red liquid into the cups and went for the two. Giving first his daughter a cup to which she thanked him and the then the warrior who also gave thanks in his deep accented voice.
He wondered if the warrior was some sort of foreigner, his face had a certain elven quality to it, but he had never seen an elf as large as the warrior. His daughter quickly downed the contents, the warrior seemed to cringe at the taste, and he guessed that perhaps the warrior was not expecting the wine to taste more like vinegar. The warrior swiftly drank the wine in a single gulp and coughed before setting it upon the table and going back to the hearth. Looking to his daughter again who rose up, he gestured for her to follow him to the back of their house where they kept their beds.
'I am sure you have a lot of questions father' said Kallian 'but I am all right, the stranger there helped me escape from the Watch'.
Wearily nodding, Cyrion was glad that she had returned safely, despite his open disapproval of her thievery, so much like her mother he thought with nostalgia once more.
'I trust you were not harmed?' he asked
'Only a few bumps and bruises nothing serious' was her reply.
He knew when his daughter was not entirely telling the truth. There were times in the past that she had come home severely injured and in dire need of medicine, he was certain this had been one of those times. Kallian looked towards the warrior and she continued with a bit of worry in her voice 'he healed me with magic, I don't know if he is a mage.'
Eyes widening with alarm, what if this stranger might be an apostate being hunted by the Templars? Looking to the warrior then back to his daughter he said with a whisper of alarm 'we need to know if he is a mage or not, if he is then he has to leave'. His daughter nodded and agreed with him, she then turned around and went to the warrior who still crouched near the hearth. He could hear his daughter's voice as they exchanged introductions.
'Tabris, Kallian Tabris' she introduced herself cautiously to the warrior.
The warrior then rose up and gave her a formal looking bow, he spoke with much gravitas in a melodious song-like tongue
'Khorieus Alatanrieth ath amatharier lo Chrace, lo Ulthuan'. Blinking at the warrior, she had no idea what he said, sighing the warrior then pointed to himself 'Khorieus, of Chrace, of Ulthuan' he said haltingly, it looked as he wished to say more but could not find the words in their language for it.
'You're not a mage are you?' she asked. The warrior looked at her not quite understanding her question
'You know, a mage?' she said, she tried randomly spouting out gibberish and placing her right fist upon her left palm and imitating as if she were shooting something out. The warrior shook his head and gave a simple "no" and pointed to his weapons. Looking to her father, she nodded and he nodded back with understanding, with only a mild bit of relief in his expression. Feeling weary and tired from the night's events and she resolved to figure things out in the morning.
The night went without incident, she explained to her father the situation of her friend Arrisa and why she went out, she explained to him how she ran into Khorieus how he had helped her. Her father at the least was glad that she returned safely, she always hated making him worry like that but often she had to go out and steal things because she had to, to help them get by, she knew that deep down though she also enjoyed it for the thrills. As they all retired for the night, their guest had simply seated himself beside the wall by the hearth. Kallian changed into some sleeping clothes while she placed her sodden clothes alongside the warrior's fur cloak within the bathing tub by the corner while she and her father went to their bunk beds.
The following morning when the sun had just begun to rise, a series of loud knockings came from their front door; her father had still been asleep when she rose. Walking barefooted towards the front door, she saw Khorieus was already giving an intense look at the door and his left hand tightly gripped around the haft of his axe which along with the bow and quiver was propped by the hearth quite close to him.
Looking to the warrior she waved her right hand downwards in his direction, gesturing him to stand down, the warrior nodded and she opened the door. Appearing more haggard than usual, her friend Arrisa was a gaunt tan skinned, auburn haired woman about Kallian's age whose hair was tied into a pony tail; her eyes were rimmed with deep eye bags, likely she had been worried if Kallian herself had been alive and well from the previous night.
'Oh thank the Maker you are all right' said Arrisa with a whisper of relief
'You did ask for the best' chuckled Kallian 'No need to worry though I got everything, just wait a moment'.
Raising a her left hand to her friend in a gesture to wait, Kallian left the doorway and went for the sack to which rested by the door, she gently picked it up with both hands and went back to the front door. She handed the sack to her friend which contained everything, including the incriminating papers, Arrisa's eyes widened with surprise and she began thanking Kallian profusely.
'I promise to send you your share of it' Arrisa said with a mix of relief and excitement before turning around and hastily making her way home. Yawning with sleepiness, Kallian felt now would be a good time to catch up on some sleep.
In the morning that followed, Kallian had decided to lay low in the Alienage after the heist and the fight with the watchmen. According to one of her neighbors who passed by to deliver her share from heist, news was going around amongst the Watch of an Orlesian Chevalier in Silverite armor who wielded a magic battle-axe and was responsible for the deaths of the watchmen from the previous night. Reluctantly her father left to discuss with the Hahren or Elder on what to do about their guest.
'You have magic?' asked the warrior, Kallian could see he was clearly frustrated by his difficulty to communicate. While he still wore the breastplate of his armor, Kallian was surprised when he removed his helmet to see that his silvery white hair was so long that it reached down to his waist. The warrior's hair was decorated with plaits held in place by metallic cords; she also noted with a gleam in her eye the many pieces of jewelry which seemed to decorate his hair. Also she had noticed he really must have been an elf for his ears were of the right shape.
'I don't, the Chantry forbids that sort of thing' replied Kallian. The warrior looked at her curiously; likely he was trying to make sense of her words.
'No magic?' he said again slowly 'You… You elfe, ja? Kallian noted the last two words were of different sounding dialect.
'You are asking if I am an elf? She asked, and the warrior nodded. 'Of course I am!' She exclaimed, turning her right cheek she pushed back a bit of her hair and showed him her ears. This did not seem to convince him, he sighed in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose with his right index finger and thumb.
'Where I find Magic?' he asked again. Kallian herself had no idea, she wondered why he needed to find a mage, she supposed he could go to the Wonders of Thedas in the Market District, but right now it would be best if he too laid low for a while, especially if the guards were looking for him. She heard how there is supposed to a tower full of Mages far to the west, but she could not be sure for she had never been outside of Denerim.
Hearing a click from the door, she turned her head to see it open, through it came her father and the Hahren Valendrian. Getting up from her chair, she crossed her arms over her chest and gave a slight bow to the Hahren, reciprocating the gesture the old elf gave her a warm smile and he nodded towards the large warrior. With formalities ended the Elder was the first to speak
'You father has told me about what happened' said the Elder with a mix of authority and paternal familiarity as if he were a close relative 'While I do not approve of it, I am glad that you are well'.
Kallian nodded to the Elder a bit relieved, the Hahren then began taking a good look at the strange and massive warrior who towered over them, she could see the stranger's icy eyes gazing upon them, and it seemed predatory and frightening. Breaking the silence the Elder spoke to the warrior 'Bonjour…'
'Hello to you friend, I am Elder Valendrian of the Alienage of Denerim' said the old elf in a thickly accented but understandable Breton.
Khorieus was relieved that here was someone here he could communicate with. He had not slept the previous night and had simply maintained a silent vigil as he collected his thoughts. The Elder had grey hair with deep lines upon his face, like the other two "elves", the Elder was significantly smaller than an Asur.
'I greet you as well Elder one' replied Khorieus with a polite tone while switching to Breton 'I am Khorieus Alatanrieth, Of the Asur of blessed Ulthuan and Chrace' he said, speaking the names of his people and homeland with reverence 'I need to know exactly, where I am.' The Elder seemed a bit confused at his questions.
'This is the Alienage of Denerim' replied the Elder 'Capital of Ferelden'. Khorieus looked to the Elder confused as well.
'Ferelden?' asked the Chracian, with worry creeping into his tone 'This is not Albion? The people here speak its language; are we not speaking in the language of Bretonnia now?'
'I do not know of this Albion but it is not here' replied the Elder 'I also do not know of a Bretonnia, for here in Ferelden we speak the common language Thedas, the language we are even speaking to one other now is that of Orlais.' The old elf's words finally confirmed the suspicions within Khorieus.
In the past he had been to the White Tower of Hoeth, there he had read many books in regards to the arcane, one particular tome he had skimmed through was known as "Enathir's Dissertation on the Planes of Reality". It spoke about the possible existence of separate worlds and separate universe, an amusing piece with merit, but hardly one with any practical applications to Khorieus. How wrong the Chracian was now, and how much he felt he wished he had a copy of the tome now. He needed to find a mage or place where mages gathered, he needed to find a way to return home.
As the realization sank in, Khorieus looked to the Elder and asked 'Are there any places here where mages gather?'
'Far to the west is the Circle of Magi Tower on Lake Calenhad' said the Elder 'you can also try the Wonders of Thedas in the Market District, but leaving the Alienage for now would be far from wise.'
'And why would that be?' asked Khorieus curiously while arching an eyebrow
'The City Watch is currently looking for someone of your description and are offering a large bounty' said the Elder. Khorieus eyes narrowed and he suddenly tensed himself, as much as the idea galled him, if these other elves sought to turn him in he would break their bones and permanently silence them before they could even leave this house. He noted the other two, Kallian and Cyrion reacting as well with the former tensing herself and getting ready to move. 'We will not tell the City Watch you are here, friend' continued the Elder 'I have been told you helped young Kallian here, as such we welcome you to the Alienage as a friend, but others may not be as quiet as we.'
Relaxing his stance so did the maiden, wherever this Lake Calenhad was, he needed to find it and its mage tower.
'You have my gratitude' said Khorieus as the information sank in.
The morning passed with the two continuing to converse, Kallian herself had gone out shortly before noon, donning some simple clothes she sought to buy some things from Alarith's shop, while she had completely no idea what passed between the Elder and the warrior as they spoke in Orlesian, the Elder had suggested that she go find clothes suitable for their guest as well as to keep him within their home for now. Searching among the merchant's wares, she engaged in a bit of small talk with some of the other customers, most of the clothes were torn, or worn out; those which were whole were poorly stitched. Eventually she found a set of hand-me-down clothes which seemed to be large enough for their guest.
After purchasing clothes as well as some sundries with some coin from her previous heist, she placed the goods in a woven basket and made her way home. At the current time of the day most elves who had jobs had already gone to work; those who remained were the sick, the jobless, children and beggars. Her shoes squelched over muddy ill-maintained cobblestone road of her home, she passed by theVhenedahl tree at the heart of the Alienage, it pale brown bark and its green leaves seemed quite healthy this season, a shame the same that the same could not be said for the elves.
Arriving at the front door of her home she turned the handle upon the knob, as the door opened she heard a familiar feminine voice conversing with someone. Oh sod! She thought, going through the door she saw her cousin Shianni seated by the table speaking to the warrior of whom was seated by the other side, the two turned their heads to her and her cousin spoke first.
'Hey cousin!' Shianni said in a cheerful tone, rising up from her chair, she walked to Kallian and the two gave each other a friendly embrace, she could smell cheap the ale on her cousin's breath
'I was just talking to your foreign friend here'. Her cousin gave a smile to the warrior who only gave them a somewhat aloof look.
'Hello to you too cousin' said Kallian trying to be a friendly as possible 'Where is the Elder? He was just here when I left?'
'The Elder left just a while ago, he had some business to attend to' said her cousin, a mischievous grin came upon her face 'so where did you meet your friend there, he is very handsome'. Kallian had to admit the stranger was attractive in a stern sort of way, but he seemed very cold and there was an air of tension around him as if he were expecting trouble.
'It's kind of a weird story' replied Kallian 'I will tell you outside…'
Watching the two maidens speak, Khorieus maintained his aloof expression. The red-haired one Shianni had come in right before the Elder left, they spoke for a minute or so before leaving Khorieus alone with the maiden. The Asur noted the way she looked at him and was slightly amused by what seemed to be flirtations, while he did consider her a bit pretty despite being so slight of build that it looked as if she had spent a lifetime barely eating; her breath had smelled of cheap human ale. It seemed this entire city and its inhabitants were partial to maintaining an atrocious smell, specifically one akin to rotting garbage and wet hounds.
The black-haired one, Kallian laid down a crudely woven basket by the table; she picked up a pale woolen tunic and handed it to him. The Chracian looked at the clothing with disdain, it was of a poor design which looked as if it had seen too many years of use, and he saw a rust-colored stain over where a man's belly would be and was confident its original owner had met his demise while wearing it. Taking the tunic he had also received a pair of brown trousers and a large pair of worn leather shoes.
When the two maidens left, Khorieus sighed with frustration. He wanted to leave this place already and seek out information for this Lake Calenhad, while he did not fear the guardsmen if the previous night had been any indication of their abilities, he knew nothing of what this world had. He needed more information before making his next move. He had been assured by the Elder that the guardsmen would be unlikely to look for him in the community he had called the Alienage, but was asked to lay low for now.
He wondered how these other elves came to be living in a slum like this. He has seen many such poor communities within the cities of Men in his world, but such places were often entirely inhabited by humans. While there were communities in the Empire which were inhabited by Halflings or Dwarfs, the ones he had seen were significantly much better than this wretched placed. In Marienburg he had been to the opulent district inhabited by the merchant houses of Lothern, simply being there was almost like being back in Ulthuan.
Among the Asur, such conditions would be intolerable and no self-respecting Child of Asuryan would allow themselves to be subjected to such. A mixture of pity and contempt began to grow within Khorieus, although he had briefly seen their community, he could feel that quiet sense of desperation and the resignation to accept the squalor to which they lived in.
Removing his breast-plate and placing it in the tub along with the rest of armor, he removed his cold undergarments which were still wet from the rain. Drying himself with a fresh cloth provided earlier by the older elf Cyrion, he began putting on the clothes which were a bit tight, and the shoes as well had felt the same. Removing the cords, the combs and jewelry from his hair, he allowed his mane to flow down freely, he noted the way the maiden, Kallian looked at the decorative pieces upon his hair and was worried the thief may try to steal it.
Looking by the hearth near his weapons was his pack; inside he had kept a case full of healing elixirs, his coin pouch, preserved food items, water skins, there was also a separate sealed compartment where he kept an extra set of clothing which was a silken white and red robe uniform, and boots, the same kind the common archers of his people wore. But the most important of his personal belongings was his pledge ring.
Going to the pack and reaching into it, he pulled out the pledge ring and began to study it with a mix of nostalgia and reverance. Just as he had for these past two centuries, memories of his wife Laneleis and son Aranith briefly coursed through his mind before he shook away the reverie before the regret and anger set in. Placing his ring back into his pouch he picked up another piece of dried cloth and began to get started on drying out his armor, he was annoyed that his white fur cloak was still stained in gore and he would need to do a lot of cleaning to make sure it returned to its pristine state. Searching among the basket of sundries, he found a bar of soap which he hoped would do the task.
'And that's it really' ended Kallian as she told what happened the previous night to her cousin.
'I'm amazed you were able to get all that' her cousin said 'it must be exciting living the life of a dashing rogue, like in the stories'.
Kallian chuckled with good humor, sure there were some fun parts but she remembered how terrifying and nerve-wracking her first few heists had been. Even now she would still get rather scared at times but in the end she would square up her shoulders and just go for it.
'So how long do you think that Khorieus fellow will be staying?' Asked Shianni curiously, she then added rather coyly 'is he seeing anyone?'.
'Oh you are just terrible!' said Kallian mirthfully, her cousin could certainly become quite fiery and stand offish to others at times, especially towards humans or strangers but a bit too friendly with those she took a liking to after a few drinks.
'Well can you ask him?' her cousin asked again with as much good humor 'anyway I need to get going, see you around cousin!' Embracing each other once more Kallian bid goodbye to her cousin, well what now? She thought, she still had to lay low for now and it was not like she had any day job, she hadn't really had any luck with that for a while.
Turning back to the house and deciding to get started on preparing a meal she heard footsteps from within. The door opened slightly and she saw the large warrior holding a wooden bucket in his hands, the large elf looked down at her and simply said 'water?' in a questioning manner.
'You want me to get water?' she asked
'Yes' replied the warrior before a pause of silence, it seemed like he was trying to find the right word to say then he continued 'please'.
'Oh okay then…' replied Kallian a bit awkwardly at the request before taking the bucket.
Elsewhere in the city as its inhabitants had gone had begun their mornings, Templar Jacob Darius stood outside the slum house, cold fury building up inside him. His face was scarred from many years of loyal service to the Maker and to the Chantry, for years he had hunted apostates, maleficars, demons, monsters, and pagans in the name of Andraste. His bare head was styled with a clean shave and short-cropped graying hair; his helmet held in the crook of his right arm, his mind pieced together what had happened. Inside the building they had found the bodies of several men, women and children both humans and elves.
Most disturbingly of all though were the bodies of the four Templars he had sent there to find that Orlesian Maleficar, the Blood Mage Marius. It was clear that the four Templars had fought their way through the gangs of thugs and mercenaries, some with clear signs of having been puppets through Blood Magic, more deaths upon the hands of the Maleficar. They had then found and cornered the Blood Mage who had been performing some kind of dark spell in a cellar filled with bodies. Then things became strange.
According to the mage who had been assigned to aid to his investigation, a seemingly devout woman who saw her proper place in the order of things named Marissa Theo had begun babbling about the strangest of things. She ranted about dark things not of the Fade but something worse, of things which made mockeries of hope and progress, of a library of forbidden knowledge. She then continued ranting about strange creatures which cackled and wept, with flames of ever-changing colors, of a librarian that twisted the form of man and bird.
Mages, he thought with a grunt. Even the ones who you thought were trained and sanctioned likely contained the seeds of madness. He had the mage knocked out and put under guard, for now there was the possibility of a demon on the loose in the city. They had found the bodies of the Templars hacked up and burned as if each of them had been slain by a weapon enchanted with fire, they then found tracks leading out of the slum house and into the muddy streets.
There was then the report by the local City Watch of an Orlesian Chevalier in Silverite armor who wielded a battle-axe which burned with white fire and slew many guards. Could it be that this Chevalier was connected? Most likely he deduced, but why? It was possible that this Chevalier was a Reaver, a foul dabbler in Blood Magic. He had fought such madmen in the past and the experience of it was one of many etched upon his body. Such was the danger of Blood Magic that even those not born with the curse of magic could learn to wield it.
The height of the Chevalier was also quite unusual according to the report; either this Chevalier was a very tall and broad man… or what if the Chevalier were a Qunari? It would account for the height. He was aware that there were Qunari who traveled along the lands of men, some claimed to be merchants, and some were supposedly sell swords. He himself had met more than a few and learned that those he met had claimed to see the falseness of their pagan faith, could it be that this Chevalier were one? A Qunari who had converted to the true faith of the Maker and become an Orlesian Chevalier? It was unlikely and yet… a possibility. Regardless of whether it was a demon, a Reaver, or a Qunari on the loose, it was his duty to both the people of this city and the Chantry to hunt down and bring this stranger to justice.
He quietly cursed the guards for killing most of the thieves who could have told him what happened, they had found one injured who was still unconscious with the bones under his chest broken. The Templar had already requested for the injured man to be tended to with magic so he may personally question him. While normally he would not bother with petty criminals unless it was out of self-defense or if somehow it had been in the Chantry's interest, there were times during his searches and investigations that even simple brigands could offer useful information. By the accounts of the surviving watchmen, there was one another thief fighting alongside the Chevalier.
He wondered if this thief was a puppet of the Chevalier, or perhaps someone actively working with him? a possibility. The Templar cursed again, he just did not have enough information. Whatever was going on he needed to find this Chevalier, and fast before he escaped the city, already he had heard talk from some of the watchmen about Orlesian saboteurs or spies. It was hardly the time to bring up old grudges with the Darkspawn sightings to the south in the wilds and Maleficars loose all around the kingdom. He swore to the Maker that he would get to the bottom of his, and that he would avenge the deaths of his comrades.
Suddenly noticing a presence to his right, the Templar looked in that direction to see the face Bernard Marqand, a reformed brigand who now served the Chantry. Looking to the quiet and unassuming man with black hair which was balding, his face was of the kind that would easily blend with a crowd, he was clad in a full set of leather armor, he knew that despite seemingly unarmed at the moment, Bernard would be armed to the teeth in cleverly concealable weapons. He wondered how long he had been standing there.
'What do you have for me?' said Darius in a formally authoritative tone.
'Report of a break-in not far from here sir' said the rogue with a formal bow 'a merchant's home a few blocks away'
A break-in? Thought the Templar, while this part of Denerim was not exactly the safest with crimes happening quite regularly, he thought that perhaps it may be a waste of time to investigate. Yet… what if this thief who was spotted working with the Chevalier was there? Could the merchant have had any blasphemous or forbidden objects which could be useful to a Maleficar? Stranger things have happened in the past. His instincts told him that he should check into this just to be sure.
'Investigate it' commanded the Templar
'Maker's will be done' said the rogue who turned about-face and headed off into the direction of the merchant's home. Hearing the footsteps of one of the watchmen he looked in the direction to see a grizzled looking man in his middling years with a scar over his left eye, the respective ocular organ was milky white.
'What should we do now sir? Asked the man who was clearly a City Watch Sergeant, his voice was deep and raspy as if someone had taken a razor to it
'Burn it' commanded the Templar grimly 'This building has been desecrated and only by flame will it be cleansed'. The Watchman nodded and began bellowing out orders, teams of men began preparing buckets of water in case the fire spread as other men began hurling torches upon the building, as small fires began to appear and slowly spread, his mind turned back to the Chevalier, and what form of execution should be meted out once he was found.
Night had fallen upon Denerim with many of its inhabitants either having already returne to their homes while others had gone out to engage in all manners of nightly activities. In the home of Kallian Tabris all had been quiet save for the soft snores of her father, the elf woman quietly crept towards the front door of her home, clad in her rough leather armor which had been cleaned and dried, surprisingly by their guest. When her hand made contact with the handle of the door, she looked back to see the warrior, Khorieus still sleeping in front of the hearth, his magnificent fur cloak had been cleaned and dried as well, now it served him as a bedding upon the wooden floorboards of their house.
Gently opening the door, she went out into the cold night air of the Alienage, the moon was covered by the clouds and the only sources of light were the few lanterns and sputtering torches which hung outside the building. Taking in a deep breath of the comfortingly familiar fetid smell of the Alienage, she felt relieved to be alone for now. She was a bit surprised to see the warrior actually doing their laundry earlier, she then saw him use the magic fire of his axe to dry their garments.
With a swift and silent stride she made her way to a clear area behind her house, often she would use this place to practice and train her fighting skills. She passed by a few familiar faces along the way, some were drunks returning home, some were beggars with no roofs over their heads, others were a bit more like her. Giving a friendly greeting to those who acknowledged her, she knew that within the Alienage, her kin would not turn a predatory gaze to their friends and neighbors.
At the clearing between the homes of the others, she pulled out her daggers and began a series of exercises her mother had taught her. With a deft series of thrusts and slashes towards an imaginary opponent, she weaved and dodged blows which would had have been deadly, she altered her stance between the defensive and aggressive, she imagined she fought large numbers of men and adjusted her tactics accordingly. The clouds broke to reveal the silvery face of moon, she remembered a story her mother had told her about how the moon and star came to be.
'Long ago when the world was young' her mother had said 'the only things to exist were the World and Sun. The Sun had bowed its head, curious to see the World. Where they touched, the Elgar'nan the All-father was born.' Kallian had wondered if her mother had meant the Maker but at the time she had been too captivated by her mother's tale to question.
'Joy came to the hearts of the Sun and World as any mother and father would bear towards their child, in the joy of the World, she birthed the trees, the birds and all of life as we know it. The All-father praised his mother and knew happiness as he walked upon her surface.'
'The Sun's joy then turned to jealousy and anger as he saw the favor of their child upon the World. In rage he burned and scorched the plants and animals of the World. The World then wept tears which would become the ocean and her wounds would become the rivers and lakes. Angered at the harm done to the world, the All-father challenged the Sun to a duel and two battled for a millennia, in their duel the wounds and blood of the Sun became the stars and the in the end the All-father had won by casting the Sun in a deep abyss created by the World's sorrow.'
'Darkness covered the World with only the stars, the blood of the Sun to remind the World of what had happened. Seeking to console his mother, the All-father tried to breathe life back to what the Sun had destroyed, he did not know that without the sun life could not grow anew. The World told the All-father of this, but he would have none of it, his anger and vengeance towards the Sun still raged like and inferno and so the world remained in darkness.'
'In this time came Mythal The Great Protector, born of the tears of the World, she came to the All-father and pleaded for him to release the Sun. So touched was he by the words of the Great Protector that he realized his anger had blinded him, with his mind changed he went to the abyss where the Sun had been buried. The All-father spoke to the Sun and promised to forgive his father if the Sun promised as well to be gentle to the World. Having grown remorseful, the Sun agreed and was freed, he rose high above the World and with his warmth life flourished once more.'
'When the Sun had gone to sleep that night, Mythal gathered the glowing pieces of the World from which they slept, she formed the pieces into a sphere and brought it to the sky and placed it among the stars. To this day, that sphere remained, a constant reminder of the love between the Sun and the World and a reflection to the glory of the Sun'
With a smile Kallian remembered the story, it was likely just some fairy tale her mother had cooked up, still it was a comforting thing to reminisce upon. The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood up, she had a feeling something was watching her, quickly moving into a defensive stance she surveyed the area around her.
Hearing a soft squelch of mud, one almost impossible to hear, she swiftly turned to the direction of the sound and she saw the warrior, Khorieus standing between the walls of an alley, his white fur cloak was wrapped around him and his hood which she was surprised to see resembled a massive cat-like creature was over his head, its teeth she saw still looked sharp as it touched the flesh upon his forehead. How long had he been there? Stepping from the shadows, she could have sworn the air around him shimmered like heat during summer.
'Can't sleep?' she asked not knowing what else to say.
The warrior looked to her, his cold eyes seemed unnerving in the darkness, gently he shook his head and pointed his left hand at her, he said something in his strange lilting language. He then stepped forward into the clearing and began to move around as if he were attacking something, she then realized that he was imitating her moves and he had done so perfectly he then began to slow down and he began to exaggerate it, he then pointed to her again.
'I don't move like that!' she said a bit annoyed, the warrior stopped and gazed at her once more
'Your strike, wild, no refine' said the warrior slowly in the common tongue, the one he insisted was the language of wherever this Albion is. 'Move like water, have grace' he said.
Kallian snorted at the warrior's words 'Why don't you show me then?' she said mockingly.
The warrior nodded and he pulled the animal head hood of his cloak back as he pushed back the furs which were wrapped around him. She saw that he was clad in a silken robe of white and red. The red cloth was embroidered with strange sigils of a flowing script she could not understand, she could swear that at the corner of her eye the words danced and changed shaped.
The white cloth caught the moon's glow giving the warrior along with his pale skin and hair a ghostly quality that was both eerie and wondrous at the same time. The warrior then pulled a white steel knife from under one of his sleeves, it was an elegant thing of a design she had never seen. With the knife in his right hand he gestured with the other hand for her to come at him.
She gave him a curious look and asked if he was sure, he said something in his language again and gestured with his hand again. Nodding with understanding she dashed towards the warrior, her boots pattered upon the muddy ground. With a thrust of both daggers the warrior jumped back to avoid her strike which would have swept multiple opponents. She came towards him again and struck once more, her right handed dagger shooting forward and retracting at the last moment while simultaneously her left one stabbed forward, the warrior easily slapped her left hand away and she drove up her right knee, aiming for his groin.
To her surprise the warrior intercepted her knee kick with his right hand and with a shove from his left hand he pushed her away. Pushed back by several steps from the force of his shove, adrenaline began course through her and sweat began to appear more freely upon her brow, she had never fought anyone so fast in her life, it was as if he anticipated all of her moves. With a grin, she had to admit she was actually kind of having fun here, charging towards him again, they continued to dance and spar under the moonlit sky.