Summary:

The complete chronicle of Inquisitor Isala Revassan Lavellan. From the Fifth Blight to her time as Inquisitor.

Like most of her age, Isala's life changed during the fifth blight. It was a time when change was fueled with blood and death. Over the years that follow, she finds a place to carve out as her own. But change begins to brew once again in the human world, powerful enough to affect her clan. As tensions continue to grow and the Conclave is announced, her Keeper decides to send a witness.

And a witness she becomes. One in the center of the chaos that once again tears the world apart. Isala desperately clings to her roots, the only thing she understands. She struggles not only to find her new place in this world; but also battle against the Anchor, closing the Breach, and find those responsible. She meets a man who helps her understand everything, but causes her to question just as much. A man she begins to care for; but such feelings are a luxury during war, ones tainted with lies and betrayal.

She fights against the threats to the herself and the world. She doesn't know who she can trust, if anyone at all.

She is determined to stand while the world waits for her fall.

The Chronicles of Inquisitor Lavellan

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is a work of fiction by a fan. All I did was come up with Isala's personality and her backstory. This is a work of fiction based off the world that the wonderful people at Bioware created.

Chapter 1: Ha'lam Arla

Quiet, silent. Don't move, don't breathe. They'll hear and they'll come.

What is that smell? Acrid, bitter, choking and tangy on the tongue.

Smoke.

The air is thick with it, burning my eyes and forcing them shut. Where is the fire? Where is Mamae and Father? Where is the Keeper? The other children?

The smoke had grown thick, blinding and choking, separating us. They were gone too quickly, scattering through the smoke at the sounds of shrill screams, cut off bellows, and clashing weapons.

Those noises grow stronger once more, as I cower further into the bush behind the wheel of the Keeper's aravel. I'm too young to fight, too old to hide, but too afraid to do anything but scurry away.

Mamae, Father…

A wet squelching sound comes from behind me, echoed by a dull thud. The feeling of warm flesh presses against my hand as tremors wrack my legs. Looking down, all I see is Mamae.

Mamae…?

My blood runs cold; a screeching noise assaults my ears.

It reverberates through my chest, my breath escapes all at once, causing my head to spin. I clamp my mouth shut, teeth clicking as they meet. The screeching noise ceases instantly and after a beat I force myself to take a shaky breath, to listen.

At first, there's nothing. But then I hear a soft rumbling noise, like far off thunder building in the distance. Slowly it grows louder. The ground begins to tremble. Shaking, I lie on my belly. The metallic tang of blood soaked earth hangs in the air, coating my tongue as it soaks through my shirt. Bile rushes up my throat, spiking past my lips as I stare at Mamae's headless form that lies and arms length away.

The strong stench mixes with the others, disgustingly cutting through the air. I move away from the spot, angling myself away as I peek beneath the bow of the aravel.

At first it seems clear, then a pair of large wrapped feet step into my view. They amble forward a few steps, stopping for a beat. The mangled feet shift, and my view becomes blocked by large gnarled horns. They score the earth as the creature attached rushes forward. It uproots the aravel and I cling to the wheel as it tosses the aravel into the air. My grip falters as the aravel is swung sharply to the side. I begin plummeting back to the earth, my scream claws through the empty air and the aravel lands a hundred paces away from the beast and me. Desperately, I grasp a twisted limb of its horns, wrenching my arm.

Scrambling for a foothold, I survey the massive beast's horns, marveling with disgust. They sprout from its crown, they twist as if gnarled, diseased branches. The flesh is a sickly purple-grey, rotting away into to blackish sores. Wafting off the creature was the odor of gore and rotting flesh. As the stench overcomes me, my stomach rolls, ready to spill over once more.

"Isala!"

The shrill calling of my name has the nausea still as I focus on the voice.

"Isala! Help lethallan!"

Scrambling for better purchase as my grip slips. I go to call out, forgetting myself in that moment. The beast—the ogre—then throws its head back, letting out a roar that reverberates through the decimated camp. My fingers loose their grip, sending me tumbling down the ogre's back.

I roll onto my ankle with a nauseating crack as I land in a heap of tangled limbs. The ogre turns, letting out another roar that coats me in thick, ropey spittle. Its massive form roots me in place. It's so close I can do nothing but stare. Crude armor adorns its arms and groin—the rest of its rotting flesh is exposed. Jaws of elongated, mangled, rotting teeth are inches away. There's nowhere to run.

I'm going to die.

Praying silently, I stare up at the ogre, the pain in my ankle gnawing at the back of my mind. It's going to crush me and then the other children. With all my training to be a hunter, why can't I fight?

The ogre launches another aravel into the trees; the splintering wood and shrill screams jerk me to my feet. The children! Were there some in that aravel? Oh creators, where are they? The smoke is too thick, I can't see.

Stay focused, Isala! You're going to get yourself—

I'm swept from my feet by the ogre's crushing grip. The air whooshes from my lungs and black dots swirl before my eyes as the pressure of its grip grows. Struggling and gasping for air, my body is whipped around like a rag doll. Red lines my vision as the pain shoots down my spine. Everything hurts.

I'm going to break!

I fervently fight for air as the shaking continues, another bout of nausea rises in my gut. All I can see is a blur of milky eyes, rotting flesh, and distorted horns. Then, the ground.

I hit it hard.

My stomach turns as a burst of pain dazzles me, my breath chased away. Agony grips my mind as I weakly roll off my side. My gaze wanders skyward, heart kicking faster. The sight of the ogre's raised fist runs me cold. It swings down, fast like a hammer and I throw mine up.

I wait for the blow that never comes, an unnatural chill settles over me. Cautiously, I peer over my palms. Frosted milky eyes twitch, following my every move. Its frozen form teeters forward, I scramble back just in time. Where I lied moments ago, now held the shatter remains of a twisted beast. Tears well up in my eyes, and my hands tremble. A new kind of fear grips my gut as I watch the frost fade from my fingertips.

Magic. Oh creators, I just did magic….

Weakly I struggle against my own body in a futile effort to stand. My gaze flicks around the camp shrouded in thick, oily smoke. The ill-boding silence disturbed by the far off noises of a dying battle. Metal bashing together, cries of falling hunters and darkspawn, the roars of blazing fire filling the air with choking smoke.

"Isala! Isala—!"

A sickening noise cuts off the shrill scream. The echoing by cries of "lethallin" and "Adahl" have me stumbling forward. But as I go to pass Mamae's corpse I falter. I try to peer through the smoke at what might lie ahead, though all I accomplish is straining my eyes and sending myself into a coughing fit. The foolishness in pressing forward, blind and unarmed, weighs on me with the thought of Adahl.

Adahl just died.

That cry couldn't mean anything but. Such a thought strangles me with sadness as I kneel beside Mamae's form. Smothering the feeling, I scoop up Mamae's daggers and quill, hastily donning them and her bow.

"Ir abelas Mamae, ha'mi'in. Dar'eth shiral," I murmur in parting.

Blindly, I stepped forward, my side burning, ankle throbbing, and short of breath. After what seems like hours of hobbling lost through the smoke, a strained voice rings out finally giving me direction.

"Isala! Isala! Ghi'banalhan! Ghi'banalhan!"

Darkspawn? How many?

With a limp I continue on. A throaty, coarser yell followed by the cracking of wood and shrill screams urge my speed. Throwing caution to the wind, I break into a sprint. Tall dark shapes form in the distance and in my haste, I trip on what seems like an exposed root. Cursing as I look back, the words quickly die on my lips.

Enasal…Nehn…Revas….

I had found them.

Messily thrown upon each other, blood pooling around their broken forms, their lifeless eyes filmed over and looking upwards. I scan around and a few more vague lumps become clear, a new pain rips through me.

Seth, Sulahn, Sulevin…Oh creators…Where's Revas, Mihris and Ariane?

My breath is harder to find as I stumble forward, passing two more lifeless forms.

Mihris and Ariane.

Nearing the edge of both smoke and camp, I could easily make out four heavily armored forms and a broken aravel. Clinging to the mast, Revas scrambles to get higher, the darkspawn hacking at the body of the aravel. Thankfully I'm still unseen while I ready myself, notching the arrow, a silent prayer is on my lips as it flies forward.

Vir Assan, Vir Bor'assan, Vir Adahl'en.

The arrow sinks into the side of a darkspawn's skull, it bellows out a distorted cry of pain, and I fell the beast with another to its chest. Turning to me, two of its companions charge while Revas seems too stunned to move. I slay the two darkspawn with arrows to their chests. The last one abandons the aravel, giving Revas a window.

"Revas, run!"

Scrambling down the mass, he bolts once his feet touch the ground. As he rounds the bow, the last darkspawn falls and I collapse to my knees, drained. Dropping my bow, I open my arms to Revas, relief filling me as he begins to closes the distance between us.

But I was foolish. Too inexperienced, too cocky.

A fifth darkspawn emerges from behind the wreckage of the aravel. It cuts him off, thrusting its bladed claws into his belly. It pushes Revas away, turning to me with a gnarled hand raised. A spell of searing cold punches into my side, toppling me over as I draw Mamae's daggers. Pain blooms across my side, another spell hits me and ice coats my chest. Without a reprieve I'm hit with a third spell; electricity sears through my veins, paralyzing me.

The darkspawn stands over me. It seems to sneer smugly as the bite of it blade claws sinks into my shoulder. Gritting my teeth, I strain to push it away. But the blades bites further into my shoulder, overwhelming me with pain. It's too much…I wasn't fast enough.

Mamae, Father...Can darkspawn smile?

Author's Note:

(7-30-16)

So I'm coming back to this after a very long, unplanned hiatus. I'm so sorry guys. As you can see I've gone and taken some liberties and edited the story. I made some minor changes to the first chapter, and I should have the new second chapter up by the end of the week for sure since it's already written. This is going to be an un-beta read series now so if you see anything please let me know. Thanks I hope you will put up with me for a little longer so you can enjoy this story.