**I came across this piece recently. It was actually supposed to be for a gift exchange last Easter. I am a terrible Easter Bunny because I'm almost a year late :( I'm still not sure that I'm happy with it, but I couldn't let it sit there for another year! So, here goes...**
DOCKSIDE SHENANIGANS
A chill wafted through the night air as it swept in over the docks of Kirkwall, bringing with it the stagnant smell of dead fish and algae. Marian Hawke lifted the metal cover, and poked her head up from the tunnel below. She listened briefly to the sound of the wind, the creaking of ropes, and the gentle slosh of water against wood and stone, before sliding the cover aside and climbing out. She ran a hand through her mussy, dark hair and peered down into the hole.
"Varric?" She whispered sharply into the darkness below. "Are you coming?"
A grunt was the only response that greeted her. After a few moments, the swarthy, stubbled face of her compatriot appeared – his golden earing glinting in the moonlight. "Whoever made these ladders certainly didn't have short people in mind." He struggled to hoist himself up the last rung to the lip of the hole, frowning when Marian reached down to offer him her hand.
Varric swatted her hand away and kicked himself up over the top. Suppressing a grin, she pulled back her hand and placed it on her hip. "I did offer to let you go first." She shook her head at the stubborn dwarf. "I could've helped."
Varric slid the cover back into place and dusted off his hands before addressing his cohort. "If your brand of help involves groping my backside, I think I'll pass."
Marian lifted an eyebrow and cocked her lips into a sly smirk. "You know, Varric, I've been told I have a rather pleasant groping technique. Maybe you should try it before you dismiss it so callously."
The dwarf reddened, but before he could dole out a witty response, the sound of voices and shuffling feet in the distance disrupted their little exchange. Marian ducked behind a stack of crates at the edge of the dock and waived for Varric to join her. They settled into their hiding spot and waited to determine if the voices were moving closer. The footsteps approached, nearly coming around the barrel that Varric was partially hiding behind, forcing him to edge nearer to Hawke.
Marian was too busy focusing on the approaching voices to notice the dwarf, or more to the point – Bianca, until it was too late. The custom crossbow with a mysterious female namesake strapped to Varric's back had been pre-loaded for their venture through secret passages beneath the docs. The trigger mechanism was locked to prevent an accidental misfire, but that didn't protect innocent bystanders from the sharp point of the readied crossbow bolt. The piercing tip sank into Marian's tender bottom, causing her to yelp and jerk away from the source of the pain and into the stack of crates meant to conceal them.
The voices fell to a hush and Varric heard the distinct sound of weapons being unsheathed. He glanced over at Hawke who was glaring at him in much the same way he had seen her stare down a pesky spider or rat. The dwarf shrugged and tilted his head towards the group of thugs inevitably headed their way. Marian's annoyed expression quickly melted as she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips thoughtfully. Varric saw the mischievous twinkle in his companion's bright blue eyes before she even opened her mouth. She let out a horrendous animal-like yowl that eventually turned into a hissing sound. Furrowing his eyebrows, Varric thought perhaps she'd lost a morsel of sanity. Marian batted lightly at the crates and continued to make the Maker-awful noises. When he continued to simply stare at her, she gave him an expectant look and made claw gestures with her hands.
Varric shook his head and ran a hand over his face. She really means to make them believe we are a couple of cats in a scuffle? With a sigh he joined in, his guttural mewing coming out more like a dying goat, but they heard the men's feet halt.
"What in Andraste's name is goin' on back there?" One of the men inquired of the others.
"Sounds like a cat fight," another responded with disbelief.
A female voice, gruff and angry, piped in, "Can't be! I ain't seen a single cat in Kirkwall. Rats, yeah…but cats?"
"Go check it out then," the first man ordered.
"I ain't goin' back there," the woman sneered.
As the band of mercenaries and thieves argued amongst themselves, Marian and Varric continued their ruse in the hopes that they might give up, but both readied their weapons in the event that they did not. Just when they thought they would be found out, a miracle – that could only be a result of Hawke's strange brand of Maker-blessed luck – occurred, and a scruffy orange and white patched cat sauntered up to where they sat. It stared with its one good eye at Marian as she let out another deep yowl. The cat sniffed at them, conflicted by the sounds coming out of these two strange beings who were obviously not the brethren creatures it had been expecting to find. Hawke took advantage of the opportunity and hissed loudly, lunging at the cat and effectively frightening it into running out from behind the crates and towards the waiting thugs – who were still arguing about the potential animal encounter.
From their hiding spot, Marian and Varric fell silent and waited. One of the men let out a womanly shriek, the cat hissed and growled loudly in response. The rest of the group laughed at their comrade's reaction.
"What?" The man's voice sounded defensive. "I hate cats."
"And it appears they hate you!" The gruff female voice let out a loud guffaw.
Eventually the laughter died down and since no one had taken it upon themselves to check behind the crates, Marian and Varric relaxed into their hiding place and listened.
"So, where's this cart person?" One of the men asked of the others.
"That's Carta, you idiot!" The woman was addressing them again as if she might be their leader. "Carta is a group of mercenary dwarves, not the name of one of them."
"Whatever," the man responded, his voice sounded weary.
Varric's eyes met Marian's and he mouthed the word "Karshol" to her. She nodded her understanding. They had been trying to track the movements of one of the Carta Lieutenants for months, but Karshol was careful, he never showed his face in public – typically sending cronies to broker his agreements for him. Marian wasn't so sure that he would make his appearance here, but even a crony was a lead, and they had been running out of those as of late.
The next few minutes seemed to draw out, as Hawke and Varric remained crouched in their uncomfortable hiding space waiting for the mysterious carta member to make an appearance. Finally, they heard the crowd of thugs fall into a hushed silence – which probably meant that an outsider was approaching. Some feet scuffled across the dock and the sound of strong footfalls, attached to a sure stride grew louder.
"Are you Merren?" The voice that sounded in the wake of the approaching footsteps came out more like a squeak than the burly growl one might have expected from a tough Carta dwarf.
"I am Merren," the female of the group responded.
"Berav," the dwarf replied by way of introduction. "I hear you have a problem that needs fixing."
"My employer has been plagued by a few too many guard patrols as of late," the one called Merren began. "We've been told that your men have some creative ways of reducing those patrols."
"For the right price."
The sound of a coin purse being jostled about followed.
"That's a good down payment," the dwarf responded, presumably assessing the amount that Merren had offered him.
"We'll see if you're worth that price first," the female's voice was firm. "If you prove your worth. There'll be another purse that size waiting for you."
There was a stretch of silence as the two undoubtably assessed one another.
The dwarf made a harrumphing sound. "Alright, human. You give the where and when. We'll be back for that purse, plus half."
"Lowtown foundry district. Tomorrow night. I'll be waiting at The Blooming Rose for confirmation of a job completed."
The group quickly disbanded after that, leaving Varric and Marian to ponder whether they should rendezvous at the foundry or the brothel the following night.