Chapter 1: The Maker's Sense of Humor

9:31 Dragon.

Kirkwall, the city of chains. Once, the center of the slave trade for the Tevinter Imperium; now it's a free city, even if barely. The oppressive yoke of the Templars over the mages is almost a mirror of the Imperium's reign. Even here, where the templar's influence is at its strongest, there are those willing to fight for everything and die for their cause. Many in the Templars joined to escape a life of poverty and despair. One rarity was Yvea Belanare. She was young, barely nineteen and more impressive was that she was an elf. Her dark skin stood out from her silver armor, custom made to show off her beauty rather than hide it. There was method to her madness, this sexier armor offered full protection, and kept her opponents of guard.

She was out on patrol in Hightown, the rich part of Kirkwall. She was never without her trusted blades, the twin Dar'misan longswords entrusted to her by her mother. She would need them. Normally, nothing happens in Hightown, but the veil, which separates the Fade from the waking world, was notoriously thin in Kirkwall. Demons on the streets weren't a common sight, but sometimes it happened. She walked through all of the places a demon would most likely manifest. Nowhere was anything happening and she decided to head back to the gallows. It was getting late anyway. When she returned, she saw standing in the courtyard of the Gallows a demon of pride, standing taller than she ever imagined. The powerful creature charged toward her and slapped her aside violently, sending her flying toward the stairs leading to the prison.

She fell unconscious and the demon roared in triumph. Suddenly, a human leapt from the roof of the smaller prisons and stood to meet the demon. He was clad in open-front robes, leather chest armor, jagged silverite greaves and sabatons and his right arm was fully armored by silverite plate gear, jagged like his other armor pieces, very threatening when you see it. He wielded a weapon that was just as much sword as staff. The demon charged at this unknown mage, but he used his blade to cut in under the creature. The demon staggered back and slammed it's fists into the ground. The mage leapt up before the tremor got to him and cast winter's grasp on the demon. The monster froze up to shattering point just as the mage touched down on the stone floor.

The mage cut his palm and drew on the power of his life force. He summoned a portal before his unarmored arm and punched through it, creating an ethereal fist that shattered the demon to bits. He then proceeded to bandage the wound and turned his gaze to the unconscious templar. Several things were off about her. First, she was an elf. Second, her armor was designed to accentuate her features. She was bleeding on the stairs and fading fast. I should leave her to die, thought the mage. But someone should lead by example. If anything, she'll be indebted to me and keep the Order off my ass.

He knelt before her and placed his hand directly over the Templar's heart. He focused his energies on the healing magics he knew. The elf began to glow a bright blue for a brief time and then the glow faded. The templar gasped for breath as her eyes shot open. She jumped back up and drew her blades, forcing her savior to leap back and ready his staff. "Apostate," she shouted "you brought that demon here! Why is it not at your side?"

"I killed it. It attacked me and nearly killed you. So, put the swords down and show some gratitude for the one who saved your life." Yvea sheathed her weapons and stepped closer to the apostate. "I don't get enough credit for all the work I do. I'm trying to create a good name for apostates and this is the thanks I get?"

"Give me your name." Yvea ordered.

"Jared Varth, demon slayer and wanted apostate."

"I owe you my life. Thank you." Yvea said.

"Then that's my queue to leave." Jared turned around and started walking away, back to his hovel in Lowtown. Just before he reached the tunnel there, Yvea stopped him.

"Wait," she yelled, "will I ever see you again?" Jared turned around to face the young elf.

"Maybe. Who knows?" Jared kept on walking out, leaving Yvea to wonder on his motives. She walked back to the Gallows, ready to turn in for the night. As she walked through the hall, she was stopped by the infamous Knight-Commander Meredith.

"Halt, Belenare!" shouted the Knight-Commander. "Your armor is covered in blood. What happened in Hightown?"

Yvea paused for a moment to think of an excuse. That maleficar, Jared, saved her life. Now she could return the favor. "Just some guard pretenders thinking they could prey on the weak. They got what was coming to them."

"And the demon outside the Gallows? What happened to it?"

"It was someone from the Ferelden circle." Yvea lied. "I never saw his face but he took the thing down and sent it back to wherever it came from." The knight commander paused. She should have foreseen this. After all, Ser Thrask had requested the aid of an "Enchanter Hawke" in dealing with some renegade apostates a few days back. Perhaps he had chosen to stay a little longer and help with some demons that had chosen to overstay their welcome.

"Get some rest, then. I'll appoint one of our hunters to look into the demon." Said Meredith. The Knight Commander went back to whatever it was she was doing. Yvea left for her quarters to forget what went on. Hoping that Jared was for real, hoping he didn't have some grand scheme to bring down the circle.

Jared, meanwhile, was spending the night in the Hanged Man, the most popular tavern in Lowtown. Okay, it was the only tavern in Lowtown. It was also home to the sexy pirate Isabella and the dwarven storyteller Varric Tethras. It was also where Jared went when he wanted to get plastered. Truth be told, he didn't have a problem. He was a social drinker. He walked up to the bar and dropped a few silvers to the barkeep. "Get me a pint of the strongest dwarven ale you have." He said.

Isabela looked over and approached Jared. "Got a lot on your mind?"

"Just the usual. Templars, politics, the Qunari, and there was this one Templar last night I ran into. Strange one at that." Jared explained.

"Oh? What was strange about this one?"

"First off, she was an elf. So that alone should set the tone for the whole thing. Second, her armor was designed to be sexier and I assume keep her enemies looking in all the wrong places during combat."

"Something tells me she had the hots for you." said Isabela. "She's probably asleep. Try and contact her through the Fade. If she tells you her name, I'll pay for your next round." Jared took a long gulp of his ale.

"When I pass out, will you carry me home?" Jared asked. Isabela nodded and after another swig, Jared had passed out. Isabel begrudging slung Jared's unconscious frame over her shoulder and carried him out to Lowtown. Jared's spirit had already left his body. He now walked among the spirits and demons of the Fade. He was on the hunt for a certain elven templar. Over the years, Jared had perfected the art of changing his form in the Fade, known as "Fade Shifting". He had felt the essence and life force of the templar he saved in the waking world.

What creature would be able to follow it? Jared had concentrated on the one creature he had been most familiar with. His spirit took on the form of a werewolf, still clad in his robes and armor. He lifted his head to the air and took a whiff of his surroundings until he picked up the scent of the elf girl. He bounded through the fade, leaping over obstacles and not pausing for demons or other spirits until he came upon a clearing in which he saw his target. He shifted back to his human form and stealthily approached her.

Yvea was dancing around in a clearing surrounded by veins of lyrium. The fade for her was a calm serene place of reflection. She couldn't stop thinking about that apostate, Varth. She was looking out at the Black City, the birthplace of the Darkspawn. But she was also waiting, hoping that Jared would find her to justify his apostasy. Suddenly, she spotted him out of the corner of her eye and immediately turned to face him.

"I was wondering where I'd find you." He said. "No matter how much you Templars do, the Black City will remain just so. Black. Despite what the Chantry believes, magic is a gift from the maker. It's man that chooses to use it for evil."

"What about you? Where did you learn to use magic? You did too good a job with me to be 'just another apostate'."

"From the Circle in Ferelden, of course. Before the blood mages took over and snowed it in with demons, the First enchanter sent me with one of the tranquil to pick up a lyrium shipment. On our way back, we heard that the circle was on the verge of annulment. I couldn't go back, so I went to the Imperium for a while. I continued my training under the Black Divine himself and he taught me some basic healing magic and gave me a special charm that makes demons in the fade repulsed by my presence. He also gave me a special staff that's just as much weapon as your swords." Jared explained.

"But what about you?" he asked. "What's your story? What do I call you?"

"You can call me Yvea. I was born here in Kirkwall, but my mother was Dalish. I joined the Templars to escape poverty and it wasn't easy. It's hard to be an elf anywhere in Thedas, so I really had to push myself to get to knighthood. Even the Knight-Commander paused to take notice. Hopefully, she'll see that even elves can fight for the maker if given the chance."

"You Templars aren't doing the Makers work! It is the Maker who creates mages. Your Circle and your Chantry were made by men. And men can bring them down. I don't even think you believe. You just needed an easy way out of a terrible life. Regardless of your coin, or your standing in the Order, you're just an elf to the Knight-Commander. Nothing more."

"So, that's it then. You want freedom that mages cannot have. It's futile, you know. The Templars WILL find you!" Yvea shouted. Jared drew in close to her from behind and wrapped his hands around her waist.

"Not if you vouch for me. If you really care, meet me at the Hanged Man tomorrow. No weapons, no armor." Jared drew his knife and slit Yvea's throat, driving her spirit back to her mortal body. She awoke in her quarters with quite the shock. Yet somehow, she remembered all of what went on between herself and Jared. The Hanged Man, she thought, Is this a date? She got out of bed and didn't even bother to armor up. Instead, she put on her old Chantry robes she wore during initiation. A little conspicuous, but the Maker didn't frown on social drinking.

As she walked through the Gallows, she came upon First Enchanter Orsino, an elf like herself. Orsino's presence carried an air of confidence to the mages and even the Templars admired him. "Good morning, First Enchanter. Sleep well?" Yvea asked. Most mages liked that she took the time to get to know them. It showed that she was more of a protector than some of the other's.

"Strangest thing in the Fade. I was arguing with a Desire Demon when I spotted a werewolf running around. Robes, leather and silverite armor, too. I didn't know those things slept, let alone wear armor." Yvea froze up. That's EXACTLY what Jared wore the night they met. Was he more dangerous than he seemed? "Where are you off to, anyway? You're unarmored."

"I'm… umm… Meeting one of my contacts in Lowtown. It's part of my investigation into the healer in the Undercity." The First Enchanter wasn't inclined to believe her. But her initial reaction to the mention of the werewolf in the Fade suggested she knew something. But he wouldn't press her on the subject.

"Best of luck in the investigation. Don't get hurt out there. Lowtown is brutal." With that last note, Yvea walked out of the gallows and made her way out to the Hanged Man. She encountered nothing of note along the way and made it unscathed. When she stepped into the Hanged Man, she felt even more isolated than she did among her fellow Templars. She spied Jared, still in his armor, seated with a beardless dwarf in a leather duster.

"So let me get this straight, you killed a Pride Demon and DIDN'T leave the templar to die?" asked the dwarf.

"I told you, Varric, she was special. Besides, she was an ELF. An elf in the Templars. There's your story right there."

"Speaking of stories," said Varric, "Did you ever get shapeshifting down?"

"Not outside the Fade. Even the Dalish won't help me. Not that I'm surprised anymore. One of Cousland's friends could have helped me, but they're both gone now." Jared looked over to see Yvea standing near the door. He motioned for her to join them and she made her way through the crowd over to the mage and Varric. She took a seat beside the dwarf. "Varric, this is her. Yvea the elf." Yvea waved hello to the dwarf.

"She's pretty stacked for an elf." Said Varric.

"Do I open my mouth every time you fondle your crossbow?" asked Jared.

"No, but…"

"Well, it's disturbing. So try to be respectful in front of the lady, she's risking a lot just to be here." Jared demanded. He looked at Yvea and told her "So now that you're here, maybe you can help me out." Suddenly, the whole tavern fell silent as the door slammed open then shut.