So, this is sort of a self indulgence fan fiction more than anything. The main character is not the inquisitor. Instead he's the best friend.
things to know about him- his memory is almost perfect, he was born to Clan Lavellan but is something completely different, and he dislikes mages.
Disclamer: Dragon age belongs to bioware
Well, this was shitty. Like the kind of shit that smells of something just wrong. And that's not good. Ellas scrunched up his nose, looking at the contents of the destroyed tavern. Brown pieces were strewn about, scattered. He bit his lip; he probably had a splinter, of all things. One body flew to the side landing on a sharp horn from a bull head decoration, bottles were broken and shattered, and people looked about with panic and fear. He exhaled a breath and tried to regain composure.
"Well, shit," a voice rung out and Ellas looked up, scrambling to his feet to see the source of the blast. The voice belonged to a dwarf; short, strong and with a fantastic aim. Before said explosion, he faced off against a man who was too drunk and wanted more from a woman than she would give.
"Wha- oh what the fuck!"
The sky was broken, literally, with green ethereal lights illuminating across the sky. Inside the green tear, lumpy pieces of ground moved towards the center and surrounded others.
They were screwed.
They were so screwed.
Ellas' eyes widened as he took a step back. That wasn't normal!
Out of the corner of his eye, Ellas saw flashing green and a rip through the air. Wonder and fear filled his head with worry. He didn't like the unknown. His heart pounded with the possibility of fighting a demon. The tear opened and a crystal green shard floated in the sky closer to them than the bigger hole overhead. Green shades flew through the extended glow of it. The dwarf swore beside him, "Andraste's Tits...elf! Grab something sharp or pointy! We've got company!"
Ellas' face crumpled. It could be worse, he supposed. They could be fighting the bigger tear overhead. He nodded, pulling two blades from his sheaths on his back and held them in hand, waiting to strike at any incoming enemy.
Ellas focused on a demon who had the intention of moving towards him, and he practically vanished. If they were anything like humans, demons would have to have a blind spot. He reappeared beside the green wraith and forced one dagger into the ethereal appearance. Hopefully it would do some damage. The wraith cried out after he quickly dug another dagger into the neck.
The wraith cried out and disappeared into thin air. Ellas inhaled, fear releasing his system. A taller terror demon brought his hand down before he could react, and before the elf could do anything, he saw an arrow go through the forehead. There was only one dwarf who could shoot with such precision at the moment. He nodded towards the dwarf who saved him and proceeded to draw his blade across the terrors neck. Just to double check.
The fighting ended thirty minutes later. Ellas breathed heavily; he sped across the battlefield with grace, disappearing and reappearing to attack. It expended energy, but was effective for his style. It didn't help that they discovered more hordes of demons continued to appear until the tear was sucked dry and wrung out. Because of that, people were dead, whether from talon claws in the stomachs or green magic burning a hole through their bodies. It was a gross sight to see. Thankfully, the rift settled down.
He could breathe again. This wasn't normal; magic, sure. That was normal. He already disliked magic though. But green demons appearing and attacking? That's just too much. Ellas looked around for the dwarf. Safety in numbers is better than being alone in a mess like this. Houses were crumbling and burning , smoke raising towards the sky. Ellas felt that the source of the explosion could suck up the smoke too. People were dead. The stench of blood because pungent, but he was used to it. All in all it wasn't a fun sight. Once he spotted the dwarf, he regrouped, feeling the soggy ground mush into his clothed feet. The frost cold bit at his ears as his adrenaline calmed.
"Any idea what that thing in the sky is? I mean, it looks like the makers ass decided to come and shit on us today," he forced a Ferelden accent and sheathed his blades. The dwarf let loose a strong chuckle. "Either way, we need to move before any more demons return. I'm Ellas."
"Varric Tethras. Normally I'd give a better introduction, but seeing as the gods did shit on us, I'd start off with a name," Varric crossed his arms.
"Um...I have no where to go in this mess. It might be best to stick together," Ellas said. He had a question hanging in his voice. Would Varric let him travel with him, assuming he was going somewhere?
"That might be best," he said. Varric motioned for him to follow. He knew the accent was fake, but said nothing about it. Some people had their own reasons for doing things, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.
People were scrambling and screaming that it was the end of the world. Well, they would yell out to the Maker or Andraste or what not. Ellas had no strong belief, but he liked to cuss out the Maker's name (or Andraste, it didn't matter much). The Creators were fascinating though, but that was a lifetime ago. Ellas knitted his brows together.
"Where are we going?" Ellas asked, slowing his pace so the dwarf could catch up.
"Making our way towards the explosion is our best bet, and the woman who probably blew a casket with it. Besides, if we get into anymore fights, Bianca will help out," he held out his crossbow and threw a loving glance towards it.
They passed onto a bridge. It was stone with white, powdery snow clumped on top of it. The lights from the sky made it more green. As if they needed more than what they saw. Underneath was a startling sight of water that froze over and reflected the opposite of what was above.
"I'm assuming your...Bianca saved me from that terror demon?" Ellas raised a brow at the name and looked down towards the dwarf.
"Yep. She's a beauty," The 'p' was popped. There wasn't much room for conversation. They just wanted to figure out what was going on.
Hours later a camp came into view. Tents were set up. Several dead bodies lay beside it with white blood stained sheets covering it. Despite the dead bodies, it was a good sight especially because for miles all they could see were people screaming. Now all he heard was quiet, nervous chatter. He sighed, relief flooding his thoughts. Ellas would remember the screaming and crying, the dead or the dying. Stupid brain.
Now he could think. Will was in that blast, so it was highly unlikely that he survived. But there was always that small chance that the man survived. Maker knows he survives anything that's thrown at him.
Onto happy thoughts.
Ellas looked down towards Varric. Over the few hours, he learned quite a bit from the his new friend. For one, he was the writer of one of his favorite books, The Tale of the Champion. Two, he had a lot of wit and a sense of humor that made everything seem much better. He was about as sharp as his arrow and as on point as his aim. Also, he seemed to have a pension for finding ridiculous nicknames. Ellas shook his head.
"Something on your mind?" Varric asked.
"A lot actually, considering our current situation," he sighed and his face in his hands, erasing all the exhaustion. Trevelyan better be alive or he will take him back from the dead and kill him himself. "You would think that we would be running from the explosion, not towards it."
"Sometimes the best action is closest to the main source of all problems," Varric said heartily.
"Of course, the Champion of Kirkwall's friend would know everything," He said with a hearty chuckle with clear exhaustion that laced his voice. He sat on the side of the bridge and immediately felt the cold seep into his legs.
Varric chuckled and left the elf to his own thoughts. He decided that "Fluffy" best suited him because of his hair and the furs that he wore. The most noticeable features were his fake accent, long red hair and a scar that fell on his tan face. Ellas' fighting was surprisingly experienced; he had two blades that he used to strike down any demon they crossed.
Varric returned after speaking to a soldier and waved Ellas out of his thoughts, "There was a soldier who said some men were setting up camp an hour out. That should be where Cassandra should be. Apparently the man who is at fault is there too. Didn't catch the name though," Varric sighed. "We should get moving in an hour or so."
Ellas nodded and raised his head towards the breach, squinting his eyes to gain a better view. It was chilly, unfortunately, as he listened to his surroundings. People were chatting with worry, speaking about the green tear in the sky, or the breach. Others were quietly weeping. No matter. At least they were safe for now; demons didn't push the doors that blocked both entrances.
"So," he tried starting a conversation. "Demons."
"If this is your attempt to start a conversation, you're doing terrible. Demons aren't exactly the best conversation starter," Varric quipped.
"Sorry," Ellas said. "But it's something. I don't understand why they exist in Thedas. If the Maker does exist, why did He decide to make people suffer?" Ellas turned his attention towards Varric who began to polish Bianca. He didn't like the unknown.
"It's probably some kind of joke gone wrong."
"You're probably right," a smirk settled into his soft features.
An hour later they set out to meet Varric's friend. Though when he did mention the 'lady who probably blew a casket' his face scrunched up.
"I'm not part of the Chantry. I'm more of an...unwelcome tag along, if you catch my drift."
"You should introduce yourself that way from now on," he raised his hands in mock consideration. "Just imagine, the unwelcome tag along and the pissed off seeker, dealing with demons and the like. Watch out though! Just in case you get punched."
"Said the fluffy elf," Varric smirked and lead the way towards the camp.
"Says the unwelcome tag along," Ellas said, sarcasm dripping through his voice. He could play this game all day, but he was left with a question. "Seriously though, fluffy?"
"Let's just say you fit the part," Varric said.
They continued to walk down the mountain path. Luckily, it was still day and they could fight through any demons in the light. When they weren't fighting, Varric told fascinating stories, and Ellas listened and hummed in response, sometimes asking questions too.
"This one time, we were contacted by this man named Nuncio who wanted us to capture a dangerous elven assassin who was seeking refuge in the Dalish clan that Hawke was connected to. We captured him but because of Hawkes generosity, he let him go. Mind you- Riviani was in the party at the time, along with Daisy and I and she was flirting with him nonstop," he paused looking at the elf to see a reaction. The elf raised an eyebrow, waiting for the next part.
"We then went to where Nuncio was and informed him of the situation. He was, well, not happy in the least and attacked us. The elf reappeared and killed him, just like that. He was very skilled. I believe his name was Zevran. When all the fighting was finished, Riviani asked something along the lines of, "what about the sex?" He declined though. He was with the Hero of Ferelden at the time," Varric watched him carefully. He suspected Fluffy was from Antiva, especially because his accent was too forced and sharp. The man tensed at the name, but began to laugh. Possible evidence.
Before Varric could finish this particular story, it was dark. The sky still had a green essense, and in a way it was beautiful. The orange lights to next camp came into view. It wasn't on a bridge, but near a hold that wasn't destroyed. It must be the place that the soldier had mentioned. They exchanged glances and picked up the pace.
When they arrived, both looked around. Tents and fires were made, people were rushing around and tending to others, and it had an uncomfortable tension.
It seemed someone noticed something. The person was faced towards the two, from what he noticed, and began to make her way towards them. The person's feet crunched when it collided with snow and there was a clear intention in her posture. Lights from the campfire made her visible as it shined brightly off her armor.
Varric took a step forward.
"Ah, Seeker Cassandra. How fares you during this terrible time?"
"Not the time, Varric." She snapped, bringing a hand to her face to rub under her eyes. "And who is this?"
"Name's Ellas. A pleasure," he spoke up before Varric could speak for him. She nodded, acknowledging the elf but giving a sharp glance to the dwarf. Varric lifted an eyebrow, and she shook her head.
"We have the man responsible for the explosion. Follow me." it was clear that through her face and reactions, she was stressed and tired. Every word she spoke was quick and snappy.
She motioned for Varric to follow and Varric motioned Ellas to follow him, leading the two through the warm, buttery fires that counteracted the green that fell onto the snow. There was a small stone building with a large door. Only one window adorned the outside with a covering above that stretched a few feet out. The door was closed, but upon arrival a guard opened it for the three of them.
"Thousands were killed today. Most Holy, dead. The peace talks are ruined. All because of him." Cassandra stepped away from obscuring the view of the culprit. Ellas, wanting to get a better view, silently moved closer.
No way.
That was Trevelyan, alive and well. Breathing and not dead. The not dead part was probably the most important. His breath hitched as he visibly tensed at the sight. He knit his eyebrows in confusion, but if he said anything now, he would be chained up just as Will was at the moment. Thank the Maker he was alive though. The moment the warrior wakes up, they'll release him because he would only try to fix the current situation with his happy attitude.
There was no way Will would be at fault.
"It seems this man is unconscious. There are no responses with any magic I use to wake him," a voice spoke up. Ellas looked beside his best friend and saw an apostate. One who was using magic on him. Magic is power that people can overuse. Depending on the person, it is a dangerous asset. He shot daggers. "I predict the mark will help us with the situation, though that is only theory."
The elf stood up. He was a few inches taller than Ellas. "I am Solas. The mark is connected to the breach," he referenced the glowing green scar across Will's hand. "and each time the breach grows, the mark reacts and grows too."
Realizing the seriousness of the situation, Ellas stopped with his nasty frown, instead looking at the two for more ideas.
Cassandra looked conflicted.
"I suppose...for now all we can do is wait."
I would really appreciate critiques, if you read this :)