The demons had been pouring out of the rift for days now, and for days, Arturia had been driving them back, keeping Dwarfson's Pass open for refugees fleeing the war. The passing travelers sometimes offered her lyrium draughts, which she gladly accepted to keep her strength up, but constant use of magic, the strain on her muscles, and lack of sleep were wearing on her. She had heard that the Inquisition was in the area, and the flow of refugees had lessened significantly, but no one came to aid with the rift, and the demons did not stop, so she fought on. How could she not? She had made a promise, one she intended to keep.
One day, one sunny afternoon, just as she felt she was going to drop from exhaustion, her salvation came. Over the hill came a small group, led by a dwarven woman, who stopped at the top of the hill to observe the rift. Arturia stumbled towards them, using her sword as a cane of sorts. "You!" The small party of four was wary of her, and rightfully so; she probably looked like death warmed over. "You, are you the one they call the Herald?" Arturia demanded of the dwarf, a woman wielding daggers with bleached hair shaved on the sides, sun-kissed skin with faded marks of the casteless, and baby blue eyes. The woman nodded. "Then close that damned rift!" Arturia growled breathlessly before falling at the woman's feet.
"Shit!" The dwarf knelt down in front of her, but didn't have time to do anything before demons started emerging from the rift once more. "We've got to close the rift first," one of her companions, a great bear of a man with a bushy black beard, shouted over the screeching of the demons. "Then we can help her!" The group rushed the rift, fighting with skilled cohesion. They knew each other relatively well then, though the bearded man was clearly the newest to the group. A skilled warrior, but he was used to fighting alone.
The mage, an elven man, and the other dwarf with a crossbow unlike any Arturia had ever seen, fought around the two close-quarters combatants with ease, never coming close to danger of friendly fire. These were no common soldiers. The demons were thwarted, and true to her word, the dwarven woman did indeed close the rift with a glowing mark on her left hand. Arturia laid her head on the cool grass beneath her, taking a deep breath, glad for rest at last.
"How long have you been out here?" The other dwarf asked Arturia, resting his hands on his knees as he squatted beside her. The elven man spoke with a smooth voice, "this must be the woman the refugees coming to Haven spoke about, the Guardian of Dwarfson's Pass. They believed you to be some sort of spirit. I have not seen such magic since some of my deepest journeys into the Fade, and your sword, it is of ancient elven make. Where did you find it, da'len?"
The dwarven woman, the Herald, cleared her throat. "Do you really think now is the time for an interrogation? The poor lady's probably half dead. Blackwall, you got any water left?" She sat down cross-legged beside Arturia and helped her sit up a little. The man with the beard, presumably Blackwall, handed her a water skin, which she downed gratefully. "Ma serannas,*" Arturia mumbled between gulps. She was parched.
"Forgive my manners," the elven man spoke once she had finished the water. "Allow us to introduce ourselves. My name is Solas." "Varric Tethras." "Warden Blackwall." "They call me the Herald of Andraste," the dwarven woman winked, "but you can call me Jelsi. Jelsi Cadash." Arturia sat up on her own, leaning back on the heel of her hand. "Arturia Zathrilen.* A pleasure. I am relieved you came when you did. I've been out here for… creators, I don't know how long. With the refugees fleeing the war, and no one else to keep the path clear, I had to keep fighting the demons off."
Blackwall offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet. "Had to have been days, maybe weeks. That's some stamina you've got." Arturia shrugged. "I took naps when I could," she swayed on her feet, stumbling a little. "Passing travelers offered food, water, lyrium if they had it, bless them. Do… Do you have a camp nearby? I hate to impose, but I desperately need some rest, and a meal. I don't even care if it's hot."
Jelsi laughed, "a meal? For what you've done, I'll give you a whole damn buffet! Come on, can you walk? There's a camp just over the hill and down the road. Here, you can use my shoulder."
Arturia probably ate her weight in roast nug and mushrooms when they reached the camp. Adrenaline fading, her muscles started quivering, and she had to crawl into the bedroll given to her. She was content to lay by the fire, right in the middle of the day, and fall into a hard, dreamless sleep right then and there.
Arturia woke early the next morning, when the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. She felt better than she had in days. Finally waking up naturally instead of to the screeching of demons, she sat up slowly, stretching out her aching bones, and let out a soft groan. Her sword, Spellweaver, hummed softly next to her, and quieted when she brushed her fingers against the hilt.
"Where did you get it?" The elven man, Solas, was sitting by the last embers of the fire. Arturia noticed smudges of poultice on his fingers, and noticed the wraps on wounds on her body, mostly her arms. He had helped her. Very well, then she would answer his questions. "It was a gift. The Hero of Ferelden removed it from the hands of someone who shouldn't have it. She discovered the secrets it held as an arcane warrior's weapon in some ruins in the Brecelian Forest. She taught me the secrets she learned there. I fought the Archdemon with her during the Blight, and she gave it to me at the end of that battle, right before she sacrificed herself." Arturia lowered her gaze, saddened by the memory.
"Ir abelas,* da'len, I did not mean to bring up such painful memories." Solas waved his hand and brought the fire back to live, staving off the chill of the morning. Arturia held out her hands to it, glad for the warmth. She changed the subject. "So I've only heard pieces in passing. What's happening? What caused that rift? Is it true that there are more?"
"Unfortunately, yes." Solas told her everything, about the Breach and the Herald's mark, about the Inquisition, and about how they had driven the Templars and Mages from the Hinterlands, though they had not yet approached either group for help with the Breach. After listening, Arturia contemplated the situation.
Jelsi ambled out of her tent, her hair sticking up in all directions, her tunic hanging loosely from her shoulders, yawning and grumbling about the morning. "Morning," she mumbled and plopped down by the fire. Varric followed, and Blackwall was the last to rise, though he appeared to be a little more awake and well-groomed. An Inquisition scout from the camp offered them a breakfast of bread and dried figs. Arturia was happy to accept.
After allowing Jelsi time to wake up, Arturia approached her, sitting next to her on the log by the fire. "Jelsi, I would like to join, if you'll have me. Solas has told me about what you're doing, and I believe I can help." Jelsi nodded and swallowed, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "Yeah, I reckon you probably can, after holding off that rift for all that time. What kinds of magic can you do? Can you heal at all?" Arturia smiled a bit to herself, "while I know how to make some basic poultices, I know no healing magic. I do believe that you'll find me very useful in combat, however. Along with the talents of the arcane warrior, I studied as a battlemage and have a knack for storm magic." Jelsi took another bite of bread and mumbled around it, "sure thing, you can travel with me. Could always use more sparky sparky boom stuff. Why not?"
Once breakfast was done, Arturia pulled on her armor, Dalish ironbark armor, and thanked the scouts manning the camp for their help. Though her muscles still ached, she felt much better than she had when she had laid down to sleep the day before.
Blackwall approached her, seeming a bit awkward. After a moment, he held out his hand. "I look forward to travelling with you." Arturia smiled and took it, her slender hand engulfed in his. She shook it firmly. "The pleasure is mine." She looked him over, noting his armor. "You said you were a Grey Warden, right?" Blackwall cleared his throat and nodded, letting go of her hand. She smiled warmly at him, "a good bunch, you are." His steely blue eyes darted to the side, avoiding her gaze.
"Let's get moving! We've still got to clear the bandits from the East Road!" Jelsi called out. "Here's your chance, rabbit,* show me what you can do." Jelsi had a grin on her face, showing she knew exactly what she was saying. Varric raised his eyebrows and looked back and forth between them.
Though she could have chosen to be offended, Arturia recognized the remark for what it was. Jelsi wasn't trying to offend her. She was trying to break the ice. An odd way to go about it, but two could play at that game. "Alright, cloudgazer,* you're in charge." They shared a smile, and off they went, heading towards the East Road.
*my thanks
*There was no official name given for the clan of Dalish met in the Brecelian Forest during the events of Origins, so I named them after Zathrian, since he was a few centuries old and the Keeper.
*I am sorry
*derogatory term for elves
*derogatory term for surface dwarves who've lost their stone-sense
Arcane Warrior and Battlemage are Mage Specializations from Dragon Age: Origins and Awakening, and Storm is the lightning specialization for Inquisition. I will be going off of the skill trees for these abilities, though I will get creative with the extent of some of these abilities, especially since some of the descriptions aren't very detailed and leave plenty up to the imagination.