A/N: Okay, a part of several ideas that have been kicking around inside my head, I've been trying to finish another play-through of Dragon Age 2, and after a lot of more 'technical' examination of my own writing, I've begun to feel that the DA 2 plot line is very…empty. Empty from a standpoint of a character development situation. Hawke never feels like a character to me, he feels like an Avatar. A strange comment I know, since Hawke really IS an Avatar in a gaming sense.

But he just feels like the major aspects of his creation as a character are ignored by the massive gaps in the storyline. You play the character for all of twenty minutes, lose a sibling, then the game skips a year. Spend a couple days in the city to earn some coin, do some jobs, then go on a mission into the deep roads, then skip a few more years, and so on. I've heard reviewers (the more coherent reviewers that go beyond 'IT SUCKS') make the statement that DA 2 lacks connection with the character and an actual over-reaching plot, not to mention driving the character to want an ending that you can't pick.

I've decided to give this a shot. I'll be working on this and my Mass Effect story at the same time to keep things straight since sadly for the moment my thoughts are beginning to get jumbled inside my head. To many ideas working against each-other for expression is a good thing and a bad thing…when they start to conflict it is very unfortunate and NOTHING gets written.

So a 'release' has become necessary and unavoidable.

So I will be taking Hawke on his journey from Ferelden to Kirkwall and into a conflict that is far more personal than one could expect. A conflict that tears a man apart, decimates a family, and forces him to chose what truly matters to his heart and soul.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, Dragon Age: Shattered Champion.


Prologue: The Korcari Wilds.

The cool dampness of the ground betrayed the light snow which had fallen the night before. It had been a soft flurry that coated the trees and putrid swamplands of the Korcari Wilds in moisture. Light enough to cover the fall of a man's foot in the inhospitable lands, but not heavy enough to sap his strength. To a tracker, it was an excellent type of weather. You could accomplish a great deal when the ground didn't seek to betray your every motion to the enemy. But the man laying atop the slight rise covered by a mottled cloak that was coated with grayish brown mud and sticks didn't care much about moving just yet. He'd lain in place for several hours, blending into the crest of the hill like another clod of dirt. His face rested on the mud, adding to the grime coating it, letting his features blend in with a skill that a Chasind hunter would be jealous of.

The green eyes hid in the shadows of his hood and behind strips of coarse fabric dangling before them, waiting for the figures that he had seen headed this way the day before. He'd been hunting them for hours, watching their progress and waiting for them to stumble into his trap as they meandered through the few safe trails in the Wilds. He'd hunted many such patrols over the days that the army had been encamped at Ostagar, facing the nightmare that was surging from the south. As the first nightmarish form entered his view, the green eyes narrowed and their owner felt the rising tide of bloodlust at the sight of Darkspawn. The hideous forms were easy to pick out with the hidden figure's sharp eyes. Ten of them walking in a shambling formation, two large Hurlocks controlling a smaller group of Genlocks. The man watching them had grown intimately familiar with their forms and their foul names from the few Grey Wardens that he had a chance to speak with before he and his fellow militia had been ordered out into the wilderness.

His first clash with the Darkspawn had left many of his company dead or corrupted, a horrifying experience to face corrupted creatures such as these in close combat was not for the faint of heart…unfortunately, many of the militia were quite faint of heart, but it was hard to expect anything more from farmers who answered their King's call for soldiers to face an evil brewing to the south of them. Many came, and the lucky ones had fled, abandoning their posts guarding the flanks of the main army made up of professional soldiers and knights at Ostagar. The unlucky ones died, either from swords or from the blood corruption of the Darkspawn. He was the only one left of the band that had been given the vast tract of swamplands to patrol and prevent and groups of Darkspawn from slipping through. He was the last, and he was not about to abandon his mission.

He slowly watched the Darkspawn march across the raised section of ground that was flanked on two sides by water. It was an excellent ambush site, and from where he lay they couldn't do anything against him without racing down the long and exposed strip of ground, then up a hill. It was a bad situation, and only the Hurlocks had bows to strike back at him with any ease. The lying figure smiled savagely and his hand shifted from where it had been resting, the warmth of his neck keeping his bow fingers warm and supple. With slow motions that were in time with the gentle breeze blowing through the trees, he moved his other hand onto the grip of his longbow. The slow motions didn't betray his presence, and it gave the Darkspawn time to move into the trap he'd planned…a trap the Darkspawn were oblivious too.

It took the cloaked figure a full minute to slowly move his bow from beneath the covering to the open…and then as he slowly ticked off steps, following the lead Genlock, he slipped an arrow into the string and rose up enough to let his bow flex. Firing a bow while prone was nigh impossible, but the hidden archer had picked his place well. He shielded part of his body with a rock and rotting stump, allowing him enough room to draw the Elven longbow and wait for the last heartbeats to elapse before death could claim the corrupted souls of the Darkspawn.

The first arrow that flew was aimed at the Hurlock who carried his bow in one hand, ready to respond to any attack. But the foul creature couldn't even register shock as the arrow sunk into his throat and sent it tumbling into the foul and frigid water on the other side of the path. His compatriot turned in shock at the fallen corpse and then spun in place, looking for where the arrow had come from. As he turned back to face towards where the hidden archer lay, his turn was met with both the sudden realization of where their attacker was, but the realization was cut short by the arrow that pierced his eye socket and ended his foul existence. With the two Hurlocks dead, the Genlocks looked about, braying out an incoherent challenge to the sky. The archer met that with another arrow, downing another one of the Darkspawn with little effort.

One of the Genlocks turned and ran along the path, trying to keep heading in the direction that they'd been going and the promise of concealment from the archer who was attacking them, but after taking two steps, the Genlock's armored foot hit an empty hole concealed by branches and moss…dropping down with all his weight to impale his foot on spikes lining the bottom. An inhuman squeal cut the swamp, and the grouped Genlocks hesitated for a moment, squandering their best chance at escaping the ambush by hesitating out of fear that another ambush lay in wait for them. Three more fell to arrows as they hesitated, and they the remaining Genlocks turned and ran the way they had come, abandoning their wounded companion in favor of their own survival. As they ran, the hidden archer steadily let arrow after arrow into their midst, leaving a trail of bodies behind them as they raced away. In a calculated move, the archer left the last standing Genlock flee into the swamps, letting it carry the warning to it's brood that there was creeping death this way.

The archer lay back down on the cold ground, watching the impaled Genlock slowly bleed to death as it's screams of pain filled the air. There was no thought to ending the creature's suffering, no consideration for mercy, simply the coldly simple understanding that he would receive less mercy than this if the Darkspawn captured him. The archer was no fool, he knew that alone, fear was his best weapon…fear that was fueled by the pain filled shrieks of a wounded Darkspawn. So he merely laid there, listening to the cries become weaker and weaker, slowly losing their power until silence once more filled the Kocari wilds…it had taken two hours for the beast to die, and now the Archer finally rose from his hiding spot, bundling his longbow and slipping it onto his shoulders, nestled between the twin Elven blades there. He carefully covered the exquisite weapons with his muddy cloak, concealing them from the downpour that had begun. His footfalls were soft and hidden by the rain as he moved down the hill and onto the trail, moving through the bodies and checking each one.

With a short blade, the archer proceeded to remove the heads of each fallen Darkspawn, covering his arms in gore as he proceeded to gather the heads and pile them in a small totem in the middle of the trail. He then heaped the bodies together behind them and poured a small measure of oil on them before striking his blade on a flint, igniting the pile and letting the stench of burning corruption fill the air. The sign was unmistakable, a message to any Darkspawn that came this way…death. Whether the creatures feared it was up for discussion by minds wiser than his…but the Archer knew the ways of the Wilds, and leaving a totem like this was a ritual for many tribes.

He gave the pile of burning corpses one final glance before he left the trail and headed northeast, moving through the wilds with the skill of a wolf. He slipped through the underbrush and trees without hesitation, not fearing that he would stumble across the more dangerous denizens of the Wilds, he knew that most of the creatures that called the Wilds home had fled the trackless wastes for safer lands. The only dangerous creatures in these lands were the Darkspawn now, and he invited a confrontation with them. What he did not expect was the ragged footfalls of someone coming from the north. The Archer reflexively turned and dropped next to a large tree, clinging to it and letting the gray-brown color of his cloak hide him from casual view. Peering around the trunk, he listened intently to the wind and waited, judging the distance of the heavy thumps that carried far in advance of their owner.

The archer leaned out and saw the man running for his life. His tunic was torn, the armor plate he wore was gouged and some missing. Blood streamed down the man's face and his helmet was completely gone. There was no weapon in the man's hands…but it was plain to see, this was a soldier of the King's army, fleeing from something. The archer watched the man run for his life, terror etched on his face. He was tempted to let the man flee, but the archer wouldn't let a deserter flee from the Army when he had been willing to hunt Darkspawn alone. With a single step, the archer stepped from the tree and into the fleeing man's path. So shocked by the appearance of a man from nowhere, the warrior startled back and fell away from the archer, dropping to the ground and trying to crawl back and away.

"Wh-wh-who are you?" The soldier stammered out, the fear in his eyes blazed like a fire. The Archer merely stood silently, looking down at the terrified soldier, taking in the sight of one of the King's picked men at arms cowering in the mud, confused and frightened. Slowly the archer knelt down, examine the torn clothing and battered armor, noticing the subtler details like a ripped off scabbard, glancing blows from blades and arrows…even the corrupted blood of the Darkspawn splashed across his chest plate. The archer slowly decided that this was no deserter. He reached up a hand and slowly pulled away the wrap that covered his face, wiping some mud from around his green eyes to reveal a bright warriors tattoo that seemed to be reminiscent of Elven tattoo artists. A look of concern marred the archer's handsome face that was obscured slightly by several day's growth of beard. His green eyes finally settled on the soldier's fear infused ones, the calm strength in the Archer's doing little to settle the fleeing man's terrified heart.

"Hawke, I'm part of the Lothering militia that was ordered here by the King. My band is gone, wiped out by Darkspawn days ago. Where are you from?" The archer said calmly, his eyes not wavering from the cowering soldier. It was hard for him to remain calm and not start shouting at the frightened man, but Hawke knew that if he started screaming, the broken man would be useless.

"I…I…I was part of the m-m-main army…"

"You were? What happened, are you a deserter?" Hawke asked, being careful not to let the disgust at the thought of desertion creep into his words.

"From what!" The man screamed back at Hawke, and he slowly raised his hands up.

"Calm down man, what happened?"

"Wiped out…all of them…just…just gone…King Cailan's dead…" The man stammered out incoherently. Hawke bit back his tongue for a moment, not wanting to simply scream at the insanity of the man's ravings. Cailan, dead? Impossible, he had the bulk of the Royal Army, militia, men at arms, the Grey Wardens…even the Circle of Magi. How could they have all been wiped out by some Darkspawn Horde? It was impossible.

"Surely…" Hawke began, trying to push back at the insane ramblings of the man.

"I was there you fool! I served six years in the army, do you think I'd run!" The man shouted, and scrambled back to his feet.

"Calm down!" Hawke snapped back, looking up at the soldier.

"The Darkspawn killed the army, killed the King, killed the Wardens, Ferelden is doomed…I'm not staying here…you'll only die if you stay." The man said as a final punctuation to his lines and ran from Hawke. The Lothering Archer stood there, watching the man flee into the wilds, knowing that it was a death sentence for an unprepared man to flee into the endless wastes…but Hawke was no fool, and trying to catch a panicked and unhinged man would do him no good at all. Hawke watched him until he vanished into the undergrowth letting his options play out. His orders had been to block this area, but if there was no army left…and he was the only one left, there was no point for him to stay…and if the army was truly destroyed, they would be headed for Lothering next.

If that were true…his family was next.

Hawke turned and headed north, towards the ruins of Ostagar. He moved faster than the slow stalk he had grown used to over the past few days. Instead, he raced through the woodlands, darting through the trees like a phantom. He leapt over obstacles and around brush, darting here and there with little concern for being seen. There was little time for him to waste and if things were as bad as the man said, there was no time to spare. It was several miles from Ostagar that the fleeing soldier's words began to gain greater weight than the simple fears of a man for his family could ascribe to them. The wounded began to carpet the ground, the wounded and the dead. Both Darkspawn and Human lay scattered about on the ground, most of them simply ignored as the Darkspawn had taken the wounded back to wherever they came from…and the dead…had been fed upon. Hawke slipped through the piles of carrion, slowing his pace for the first time as he saw the walking Darkspawn. His eyes took in the grotesque sight and he struggled forward through the remnants of the battlefield, all the while following the ruins of Ostagar high above. As he reached the pass, Hawke saw the shattered bodies and the remnants of the once proud and capable Ferelden Army. He blinked heavily at the sight of so many dead left upon the field of battle, and knew that fighting the Darkspawn was not like fighting any normal foe, they did not give you the courtesy of collecting your dead, they simply devoured them.

It took a great deal of control for Hawke to remain in the shadows. There were many bodies out there of people he had known in passing, but the sheer size of the destruction kept him from feeling anything other than concern for his family. He could not set names and faces to the bodies that filled the pass, only knowing they were soldiers who had been killed by an enemy that they should not have had to fight. They had fought well, and died well…but this was not the battle that they should have had to fight. But even the Wardens could not have expected this kind of slaughter. The Army had been overwhelmed but there were…too few bodies for it to have been all of it.

Hawke shook off the thought. He was no general, no leader, he was a man who knew the Wilds. He'd done his job and followed his orders better than any could have hoped, but when it was said and done, that didn't matter anymore. None of it did.

Closing his eyes to the slaughter, Hawke turned away and headed north, knowing that the Darkspawn would be heading towards Lothering next, and unless he got there first, his family would be turned to carrion for the Darkspawn. With that thought in his head, Hawke began to run as quickly as he could. He left them all behind, the bodies of strangers and of friends, and the body of his king. All Hawke could do was console himself in the knowledge that there was little one can do for the dead, the living were what mattered. As he left the pass behind, Hawke moved through the ruins of the army encampment, seeing the Darkspawn picking through the remains and making camp amidst the possessions of those they had fed upon. It was hard to imagine any kind of order and direction to the massive hordes that had overrun the Army, even looking at them now they seemed like a group of disorganized scavengers, looting and taking what they wished from the dead. Hawke had heard the whispered words of an Archdemon, a creature feared by even the Grey Wardens. They spoke of it as some kind of commanding force that guided the hordes of Darkspawn, leading them like some kind of general.

As Hawke moved around the camping Darkspawn, moving north along the Imperial Highway, it was hard to think that anything could command the foul creatures.

A/N: Thanks for the spot Kelpy, dunno how that one slipped by me…