"Why dance around this lie? I'm standing right here," Hawke scowled. Varric, Anders and Fenris stood behind him, completing the angry group-of-the-year photo opportunity.

"If a member of the Chantry admitted instigation, I have no doubt it would result in more appeasement. But an accusation from a Lowtown thug... You are hardly important." A very faint, condescending sneer crossed Sister Petrice's features. "That's not an insult—it's why I chose you. Rest assured, excuses, real or imagined, are not for your benefit."

"I won't forget this, Sister."

A voice came out of nowhere. "Oh piss and blood, you're not actually going to let this one walk, are you Hawke?"

The man whirled around, seeking the source of the question, as one hand reached for his staff. His friends hadn't moved and their gazes remained locked on the Sister and templar. Hawke looked back—Petrice and Varnel hadn't moved either. Petrice looked as if she was about to say something, her eyes pointing to where Hawke had been, scant seconds past.

"Relax, Hawke. I just want to have a word with you," said the figure standing near the door, dressed in an over-sized hoodie, pants, sneakers, and a colorful spider the size of a cat that sat atop the figure's head.

"Spider!" Hawke reacted on instinct and immediately cast Chain Lighting.

"Oy!" The figure abruptly disappeared and then reappeared next to the mage and smacked him across the arm. "Quit shooting at Wilbur! And me!"

"Wilbur?" It all seemed a little too surreal for the mage to accept.

"This is Wilbur," the hooded figure (woman? She was tall enough to be a human or an elf...or a dwarfed kossith? A kossithed dwarf?) pointed to the spider, "a mexican red-kneed tarantula. He's a plushie." The stranger sounded happy to have a spider atop her head. And what was a plushie anyway? Was it dangerous? What nefarious magic is at play, Hawke wondered.

"Riiiight."

"Oh, don't be like that. He makes the most amusing hat during the Halloween season. Though most folks don't shoot lightning at me as a reaction. But my choices in headgear is not the reason why I am here," the woman put her hands on her hips and glared, as much as one can glare when one's face is obscured by a hood. "That lady," she pointed at Sister Petrice, "is trouble. With a capital T, mister. She may be wearing Chantry robes, but even a wolf can wear a sheep's skin, if you know what I mean."

"The trouble part I hear loud and clear. A wolf dressed in leather and wool, not so much." Hawke scrutinized the short woman. "What are you? A spirit? A demon?"

"Oh, neither. I'm human. From the other side of the Fade."

"As in the side of the Fade where dead people go?" Hawke asked apprehensively.

"I'm not dead! Cripes. It's just a different neighborhood in the universe. Multiverse. Whatever. Anyhoo, I realize this sounds bad, but you really should just knock this lady and her templar lackey off a dock in a pair of concrete shoes."

The hooded woman's assurances did nothing to soothe the unsettled mage. "Uh..."

"Look dude, she already tried to have you killed by Qunari in order to touch off a war. Who do you think is going to win? You can beat up templars all by yourself with your party in tow. Do you really think Kirkwall can fend off an invasion if the Arishok orders one? They're scared shitless of the Qunari. Well, everyone except Aveline."

Hawke crossed his arms and smiled grimly. "I wouldn't bet on either side, to be honest."

"You don't really think this Sister's just going to suddenly see the error of her ways and stop, do you? She doesn't even have the balls to use herself as the bait! She's not out for the greater good, buddy, I can tell you that. It's going to get worse if you give her the chance to learn from this botch up. You can hear it in her words! She's not admitting responsibility, and she ain't gonna quit."

"Killing a Chantry Sister isn't something I want added to my list of achievements, and if you don't mind my asking, why isn't anyone else moving? Can they hear and see us?" Hawke waved a hand in front of Fenris's nose, even going so far as to poke him. He didn't move and stood as still as the others, like a very eclectic exhibit of sculptures.

"This is all in your head, Hawke. You'll return to the action right after we're done talking. Look, she may be a Chantry Sister, but does that necessarily make her a good person?"

"Obviously not."

"And you picked up a dead Sister's remains at the Docks, didn't you?"

"Ugh, don't remind me," Hawke grimaced, "I still don't know why I even bothered to touch them."

"Yes, well, point being, just dump her and Varnel in the sewers. The entrance is right there. The man's not even wearing a helmet, for goodness's sake. Have Varric and Bianca give their opinion of the matter, and drop kick 'em into the sludge below. Please?"

"It's disconcerting to hear someone politely request that I kill two people," Hawke commented.

"Wait'll you meet Sebastian."

"Who?"

"You'll see. Anyway, my time's just about up. Oh! One more thing," the figure leaned forward, "when a guy with a really thick Orlesian accent sends you looking for his lost wife Ninette, the trail will eventually lead you to a foundry. In there, you'll see someone up on the second floor. You'll then be set upon by shades and a demon or two. When you've mopped up the floor, go to the second story and don't stop searching until you find that sonovabitch's hidden trapdoor—seriously, there's no where else for him to run in that direction! There are no other bleedin' doors. Not even a window. Believe me, I looked. There's one in the opposite direction, but he ran the other way, into an empty room! A dead end! (There's a couple more shades in the big room in the back, by the way.) If you can't find it, fireball the floor into a pile of ash and find your way into his underground lair. That bastard's a serial-killing blood mage, you can't just shrug and let him run about the city! You'll find a bag of body parts, for cryin' out loud! You don't want him going after any other sweet middle-aged ladies, do you? Like, say, your mother?"

Hawke's posture immediately became hostile. "He wouldn't dare."

"He would. The nutter's name is Quentin, by the way. Trust me, some people just need assassinating, and this guy definitely does. He's killed several other women already, if not more."

"Right. He's on my list." Hawke said.

"Alright then. Glad we had this talk. Later!" The kossithed dwarf suddenly vanished, spider and all.

Time went on and events resumed to where the scene had left off.

"Take your coin. Disappear back into Lowtown. Rest assured I will not make the mistake of looking for help outside the faithful again. The stakes—eternity—are just too high." Sister Petrice threw the coin upon the floor and went to leave.

Hawke twirled his staff thoughtfully. "Hey Varric, what's Bianca got to say about being setup by a bunch of double-crossing backstabbers?"

A/N: Many thanks to Easternviolet for her swift and true beta-reading, and her brilliant addition of the "achievements" idea! :D