Melees were by nature crowded and chaotic; this one was made somewhat more so by the presence of one extremely pissed-off crossbow-wielding dwarf. If this time there were fewer options for crowd control, as their enemies were scattered to be picked off one by one by blades and bolts of all forms, screw it, Varric couldn't have cared less. It meant more targets for him and Bianca to take care of and if it involved more mess and less precision, messy was what he wanted right now; sending foes down screaming with pieces of them hanging outside that should have stayed inside.

Bianca still sang just as sweetly up close as he discarded his usual method of working at a distance, giving himself over to the madness in the middle of the fight which coincidentally put him closer to Hawke; close enough to kill anyone who came at his back. Opening their throats before they could open their mouths, here and there leaving a fletched calling card buried somewhere vital in anyone on the fight's edges too slow to realise that there were more dangers than the one in front of you. He didn't care to consider degrees of guilt; he simply intended to kill them until everyone last one of them had paid for…

Healing traced across his back, cooling along a line of heat Varric had only noticed then because there were suddenly fewer things to pay attention to, owing to a complete set of very dead enemies. He bent to clean Bianca's crosspiece and hidden blade on the cloak of the nearest; it had seen a little extra work than usual and it looked like there were going to be an annoying number of bolts to retrieve.

"Were you planning on leaving some of them for the rest of us at some point?" Isabela enquired, retrieving an errant throwing dagger. "Or should we start writing our initials on them?"

"Kill them quicker if you're worried about your score." Still too on edge to have more than half his mind on a retort; usually his battle headspace ran a little cooler. But it was worth it to see the fire back in Hawke's eyes and for the more-than-slightly feral grin he gave Varric; the shadows just under the surface pushed back, for a little while at least.

"Ohhh" Isabela nodded in mock-sympathy "You're writing this up in your head aren't you? First drafts always make you cranky. Is this for posterity or for one of your heroes, vanquishing countless foes to rescue the fair damsel in distress? The blond one? Maybe a new one…"

"That would have to be fiction since I'm fairly sure bringing any damsel around this lot, and you in particular, would be breaching some Chantry anti-cruelty edict Rivaini."

"That's not what the last one said." She stuck her tongue out at him "Fine; see if I help you with your sex scenes again."

"I'm going to assume that relates to writing…" from Hawke.

"As the only one here with the sense to deal with trouble from a distance at the moment" Anders put in "I submit that I get points for every time I keep the rest of you lunatics alive."

"Oh you do; why do you think we hand your money back at the card table Blondie?"

"You know those healing potions you described as not tasting like 'licking piss off a thistle'? Those are not getting supplied anymore."

"Then we'd better go find an excuse to finish off your stash now, hadn't we?"

-o-o-o-o-o-

The second mob, while larger, included a few individuals with a better grasp on the concept of running for their lives. At least until Anders and Varric set the stairwell on fire, sending them staggering back from the only exit to reluctantly back up their comrades.

"We've got to stop meeting like this!" Hawke shouted as the sweep of his shield passed by Varric with inches to spare for the third time in as many minutes. The rogue merely grinned darkly as he stepped forward to put two bolts through the throats of a couple of staggering guards before they'd realized that today, death was coming from below. Useful, granted, but Hawke didn't want to be responsible for any 'friendly fire' due to Varric's near-complete disregard for self-preservation; even Isabela didn't usually cut it this fine.

The scream of metal on stone and Tallis' cursing, followed by a laugh that he remembered too well, had him turning in grim determination to close with the guard currently causing problems for the skirmishers (well at least they were working together). This one he would have himself.

"Back for more, Champion?"

The man was surprisingly quick with the double-headed axe that spun deadly arcs in front of him, using its longer reach to good advantage.

"Well this area's looking a bit under-decorated; needs a few more corpses."

Their dance of parry, step, strike slid in and out of the press of heat and smoke at the edge of the flames just starting to die down; two more passes and he'd have the pattern…

The instant's delay in throwing his counter-strike as his shield deflected the next sweep of the axe saved his life. Hawke managed to turn the blow from behind enough to feel it scour shallowly down his leg instead of running him through, trying to force enough space to keep him alive from the three new attackers crowding in far too close. He felt stone hard at his back, pinning him in as he barely avoided the next scything sweep, looking for a gap that wasn't there.

"Bianca's getting lonely here!" Glass shattered an instant ahead of the first acrid, cloying fumes curling up as Varric came in in a low rush, sending one foe down to tangle the legs of another; seemingly unaffected by the chorus of choking and gasping around him.

/How much of that have you been sniffing, you crazy nug?/

Not that he'd turn down the break; bulling forward to pick up where he'd left off. Letting his shield drop just enough to flick his sword out at waist height in a just-feint, should be enough to- the axe came back hard and fast as the man tried for a disarm. It was close as he hauled his shield up; deflecting the weapon just enough to slide his own free then stepping in close to bury it almost to the hilt with a snarl. Laying a couple of recent ghosts to rest as he twisted the weapon free of the falling body; one more down, leaving…

Not very many as it turned out. Hawke spun round in time to see Varric roll and spring free of the two remaining guards from the trio, a heavy bolt sending one of them flying backwards, collecting an archer on the way into the wall. Even as Hawke moved in the remaining man charged, betting his longer reach against the rogue's timing; bad idea. Without hesitation Varric side-slipped one, two strikes, swinging Bianca up in his right hand to drag the man off balance as her bayonet sank into his sword arm. A knife flashed in the dwarf's free hand, ripping across hamstring muscles before opening the throat of his collapsing enemy.

Hawke's shield snapped out as he reached Varric's side, intercepting a too-close-for-comfort arrow as Varric dropped to one knee to send a return shot; finishing off the downed man as that corner of the room exploded into flame and, other things. Hawke turned to deal with the only other survivor who'd turned in panic to run; he, Isabela and Tallis all claimed credit for that one, while Varric had reloaded a volley of lighter bolts without breaking stride to finish off the final luckless archer.

Hawke shook his head as he cast his eye around the room, making sure everyone on their side was still standing and anyone else wasn't. Between the two groups they'd come through so far at least half of the kills had to have been Varric's; he hadn't seen the rogue quite this, well, murderous, in a while. The rationale abundantly clear as Varric's eyes running the same sweep met his; focusing and lingering as if nothing except Hawke mattered a damn. The battle fever in them transforming in an instant to a look that said Mine! while reveling in the promise that whatever came they'd meet it together, quite possibly kicking its ass and taking all its stuff along the way.

"On second thought, never mind; I could get to like this."

"Well you seemed to be having fun; Bianca and I just cleaned up around the edges." The vicious satisfaction in Varric's voice tried for 'professional pride'; but not very hard.

"Apparently all over the edges, and a chunk of the middle; possibly the ceiling as well. You do remember which side of the shield is the non-deadly one though, right? You could always borrow mine if you're in the market."

"Ahh nice try Sweeps; still after Bianca? Give it time, she'll let you fire her in a fight; she likes you, remember."

"Well since we share the same goal I guess I can trust to her admittedly excellent track record in keeping you in one piece."

He supposed he should probably be wearing some look on his face that said 'mighty leader' better than a lopsided grin while staring at his lover; yeah, any minute now.

"You do realise the secret's out about that Paragon-worthy chest hair of yours don't you?" Isabela managed to make 'Paragon' sound far less innocuous than it should have. "You're nourishing it with the blood of your fallen enemies, it all makes sense now."

"Dwarven secret recipe; I could tell you but then I'd have to blah blah blah. It only works on hair but don't worry Rivaini, from where I'm standing nothing needs…alteration."

"Aww, you say the sweetest things. Can I have a damsel?"

"No."

"What do you do if an enemy doesn't have hair; or blood for that matter? Not such a good look if scales are involved."

"Says the mage covered in feathers; do we want to ask?"

"Cat person" Anders replied, as if that explained everything. "But if Isabela's right, then it's only fair to let us know just how big this little tale of yours is going to become; in case the universe decides to be listening. Again."

"You're still going on about that one incident aren't you?"

"The amazing case of 'reliable information' on a two bit pack of slavers that turned out to involve half the Tevinter raiding fleet? It sort of sticks in the memory."

"Can I help it if the universe shares a sense of dramatic opportunity?"

"There was that time on Sundermount" Hawke couldn't resist pointing out.

"I wasn't the one complaining about being sick of giant spiders; I just threw out some ideas for comparative purposes. And it makes for the best kind of story: no-one knows if it's true, but no-one can disprove it."

"There were giant praying mantises!"

"Everyone's a critic."

"I can honestly say I'm a little jealous of you right now." The faintest hint of that emotion coloured Tallis' words. Mostly they contained the bemusement that was a frequent response of any newcomer spending any length of time in the company of the verbal war that accompanied nearly every expedition.

"Trust me, that's only because they're on their best behavior at the moment; such as it is." But he wouldn't trade any of it- best or worst- for the world.