A/N: Hey guys, I'm really excited for this fanfic! I'm posting it in short (for me) snippets and basically playing this by ear, so please R&R, and if you have an idea or request for a scenario, feel free to tell me and I'll make it happen! (Dang, I'm just like a genie, ain't I? :D)
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Dragon Age 2 or any of its characters. ….Even if I wish I did….
The city of Kirkwall wasn't the picturesque paradise the Ferelden refugees had envisioned. The city was an unwholesome brown, with the smell of manure and rotting sewage coating every square inch.
A rickety old boat moored into the Gallows of the ancient slave city. Sad and weathered faces emerged, desperate hope clinging to them like their skin clung to their bones. These were the survivors of the Blight, shell-shocked and weary. Their eyes were vacant, and their beaten spirits weighed heavily with the grief of losing loved ones to the darkspawn.
A group of four, three women and a man, cautiously made their way into the blinding sunshine.
The first woman would have had a matronly air about her, but her back was bowed, and her lank, graying hair and grieving brown eyes betrayed great hardship and tragedy.
The man was broad shouldered, looking about nineteen in age, and had pitch black hair and deep, blue eyes the color of a pool in the summer sun. He had a disagreeable look to him, and his hand constantly strayed to the pommel of his broadsword.
The last two women had a strength of character that was immediately noticeable. The first was tall and had a warrior's grace to her. Her hair was sparkling scarlet, and her blank eyes an emerald green. Her face gave almost nothing away, but by the slight tightening of her face one could tell she had suffered greatly.
The other woman also had red hair, with a coppery shade to it. Her eyes were like chips of pale blue ice, and her mouth was set in a wry twist as she observed everything around her. By the set of her slim shoulders, she was identified as the leader of the small group.
"They're not going to let us in, Mother." The man spoke up, his face dark with indignation.
"But they must!" The old woman gasped. "We've no where else to go, not with the Blight in Ferelden!"
"It's true, though. See? They are turning everyone away." The warrior woman murmured, green eyes downcast.
"I can't believe it!"
"I certainly can," The leader sighed, her eyes flinty. "Looks like I may have to do something drastic."
"We have family here!" The old woman continued, wringing her hands. "They must let us in if Gamlen comes!"
"We'll ask the city guards if they can find him," the warrior promised, soothing the obviously terrified woman.
"Let's get moving then." The man glowered. "I don't fancy waiting out here in the sun for a miracle."
"Relax, Carver. We'll get there." The leading woman spoke again, shooting the dark haired man a warning look.
"Well, I hope our resident genius can get us into the city with her obviously brilliant plan that she just cooked up." The newly dubbed Carver sneered sarcastically.
The woman grinned, icy blue eyes lighting up mischievously as if a fire had ignited within. "There's always a plan, little brother. Don't you worry, I'll get us in without too much bloodshed."
"Have it your way, Kira."