No one spoke another word of the incident and the night went on peacefully after that, thank the Maker. Everyone tried to get in at least a little bit of sleep before the morning march, but poor Orin found little rest in his dark dreams. Even Cullen had stirred at least once due to nightmares, but his dreams were nothing out of the ordinary. Kathryn meditated more than slept, the woman maintaining a protective barrier to ensure her men would sleep - apparently, this was common for her during such trials. Hordin was a bit on edge, finding it hard to fall asleep in the beginning, but when he finally did he fell like a rock. It was not beyond reason that the others may have suffered similar unrest during their hours of sleep.
With the arrival of morning, the Wardens made their leave long before the rise of the sun. The grass was still frosty, the air nippy, and a misty rain fell from the brooding sky above. Yet, despite the dreary atmosphere there was more energy in their steps. Perhaps due to their belief that now the maleficar would die. Orin was eager to go after the blood mage, wanting to get it all done and over with and forget about everything that's happened. Hordin got rallied by the young elf's determination, which in turn rallied everyone else. Maya was literally skipping and Gabbie couldn't stop talking about lying in a bed of warm silks, with the smell of fresh bread wafting in the air, and a healthy hearth bellowing beside her. The dwarven woman even skidded up next to Cullen and asked him what was waiting for him after all this.
"Paperwork." he answered with a bitter sigh.
Gabbie shook her head after a light gasp. "Ooh, noo. That will not do!" With hands tight on her hips and lips folded in a pout, "There's no reward in that. You can't just work and work, you'll ruin yourself sweetie."
"Hey, I know!" Hordin strode up and put an arm atop Cullen's shoulder, "Why don't you come with us back to Amaranthine? That way, we can bring you on more adventures like this one. It'll keep everything fun and exciting." The tall Nevarran gave him a wide, almost dorky grin.
Cullen's smile was weak. He didn't know if he could endure watching Hordin and Kathryn together much longer, or reliving parts of his Templar life again, hunting mages. So, he found an excuse. "I wouldn't quite call this adventure fun. Besides, my family is already settled in South Reach."
"No problem." Hordin shrugged it off easily, completely unaware of the General's internal strife. "You can bring them too."
Gabbie clapped her hands together in a level of joy. "We got plenty of rooms in the estate! Or we can easily get them new homes and jobs! We've got enough to keep anyone satisfied, sweetie." She giggled at the thought.
A laugh escaped Kathryn up ahead, "I don't think Cullen'd appreciate you two trying to influence his family."
"Wha?!" The Templar gave her a long look, "Are you calling us a bad influence?"
Cullen chuckled at the truth of that statement and the thought of how his family would respond. "I don't think you realize how head strong my family is."
"Depends if they're anything like you." Kathryn said with a cheerful smile, the woman almost twirling around in her tease.
Hordin let loose hearty laughter and Gabbie giggled into her hand. Cullen felt a little dumbfounded, staring blankly at the Warden-Commander. Her playful nature was unfamiliar, yet, refreshing. He only hoped he wasn't blushing due to this new and, frankly, excitable view of her. It was all rather strange, looking over everything, how quickly it appeared to turn around. One moment they were attempting to protect a frightened merchant, then falling prey to a devious blood mage and their pet demons, death stealing a quarter of their number and hurling the rest down a path of doubt, and then they were walking with confidence, faith, and hope. Closing in on their slippery foe. Did they always bounce back like so? To willing travel a dangerous road and somehow find enjoyment in of it? He wondered if they realized how rare of a trait that was.
Cullen thought about reminding them about the peril they were still in, about the deadly maleficar they were chasing, to keep their heads on straight and focus… but he let it all slide instead. And laughed alongside them. They knew anyways.
"And it ends." Asehan stated, crouched low on the ground far ahead of them and observing their surroundings.
"Finally! We got him pinned and we can clean up this mess." The Sergeant began, releasing a deep sigh of relief.
The stone grey qunari merely glanced back to the man, before looking back out into the distant wilderness - trying to sort through its many layers. "No. The trail ends."
"The- Wait! What?!" Kyle blurted.
Kathryn quickly walked up beside Asehan, the girth of the archer making the woman appear small even when he remained crouched. The Warden-Commander also took the time to examine their whereabouts, scanning the forest floor and even glanced up into the trees, looking for any signs of oddity. She turned and looked in the direction they came, her eyes and mind reconstructing the route they followed. Something was obviously off.
"Perhaps… this is where he died? When we burned the amulet?" Gabbie offered in theory, shrugging her shoulders heavily. A faint giggle did escape her. "It's a nice idea I think. And does make some sense. Especially if his life, or unlife, or undeath, or whatever, was completely linked to his necklace."
"Undeath sounds cooler." Hordin commented, putting in his irrelevant two cents like usual.
"Then where is his corpse?" Kathryn asked, not so much to delude the possibility, but to question the mage's proximity. It gave everyone pause.
"I say we spread out and expand our search. He couldn't have gotten far, even if he Fade Stepped or something to try and throw us off." Orin suggested, readying his staff in hand with a minor twirl and tightening grip. "We can take to the air and-"
"No." Cullen interrupted. He didn't intend to be rude, but it was better to stop the elf now. "The maleficar has already proven what happens when we split up. We want to avoid another incident like that." The General ignored the "Pff!" from the elf as he passed by. No doubt the statement reignited the heated memory of Drake's fall, and intentionally so.
"The hounds ca-" Both he and Kathryn said simultaneously, to which Cullen awkwardly cleared his throat and took a step back - he realized he was becoming too authoritative. Kathryn continued speaking, only after a slight pause, ".. We'll use the hounds to pick up the trail. I doubt many people travel this deep, anything they find should belong to the mage."
With a playful hum, Gabbie smiled at the two Commanders. "You two make such a cute couple. I bet you could finish each other's sentences, given time."
"Thank you, Gabbie, for your input." Kathryn sighed with a slight hint of irritation. Hordin snickered. Cullen buried his fluster.
The tall Nevarran calmly approached the General and quietly whispered, "She's right though. Just pointing that out."
Cullen gave him a questionable glance, a bit perplexed and surprised by his statement. Hordin merely chuckled again and gave him a playful fist bump to the shoulder, before walking off to follow the others. Was he encouraging him? Trying to get him to go after Kathryn? Or was he testing him? Seeing if he would dare try? Cullen shook his head of the strange thoughts. Now was not the time for such nonsense.
The two war hounds had their noses to the ground and within seconds were on the move, even with the light rain. Now everyone had gone quiet, the seriousness and possible threat of the situation putting their jovial attitude on hold. Asehan, Orin, and Kyle had their choice weapons at the ready. Maya would occasionally fidget with her blades, her delicate fingers slipping the daggers in and out of their sheaths by roughly an inch. Cullen had his hand positioned to readily draw his long blade, as did Hordin, and Kathryn kept her hands free to easily summon her magic. Gabbie remained near the center of the group, her tense posture betraying her buried fear.
Pup and Cul worked coherently with one another, zig zagging back and forth, with one nose in the air and the other on the ground, giving each other quiet huffs when they demanded the other's attention. Pup seemed to take the lead on this one, gaining the initiative and leading the party forward. The two mabari tracked the curvy trail for several minutes, eventually coming upon a short, rugged cliff face. One of the large beasts propped up on their hind legs to try and get a higher sniff. The wall was roughly fifteen feet high and there were plenty of handholds to allow a person to climb. Two thin streams of water gently flowed down its rough surface, suggesting a pool or other body of water up above them.
Cul spun back around, gathered a bit of speed, and with a powerful leap sprinted up the wall. His claws dug into the hard, but crumbly mix of dirt and rock, and he pulled himself to the top. And then disappeared. Kathryn signaled for everyone to wait, her eyes not once leaving the sight where her companion vanished. As the moments dragged, Pup let out a quiet whine. And then Cul returned. His large, characteristic square head popped back over the edge and gave an airy Huff: The coast was clear. Kathryn was the first to begin the climb, easily finding those handholds and pulling herself up without difficulty. She even hopped from one bulging ledge to another.
Hordin followed right behind her, but didn't dare any dexterous moves like his Commander. With long powerful arms, the warrior was at the top in a manner of moments. Asehan leapt up and grabbed those holds like an overgrown ape, swinging himself up to the next level. He beat Hordin to the top, despite starting after him. The qunari remained in a crouch, just at the edge of the face, notched bow back in hand, and spun around to watch their backs as the rest of them ascended. He didn't even flinch when Maya practically climbed over him, using his arm as leverage as she flung herself up and over.
The ground had leveled out into a plateau. Rich, vibrant grass reaching above their knees grew here, along with tall beads of lavender and cattails near the hidden streams of water. The trees were rather lean in this area, spread further apart than previously found, dotting the natural valley. It was dangerously open, with little to no cover to hide behind. It was also dangerously quiet. Everything felt still, even with the plants dancing wildly in the strengthening wind. The sun had risen at this point, but the sky had grown darker, the mix of the colors casting the forest in wicked green shadows. The storm had arrived.
The weather had convenient, if not appropriate, timing. The whistling wind pressed against them from two sides, attempting to strip them of their outer garments, and the rain had increased to a near downpour. Their boots slugged through mud and rising water, the once thin streams widening in threat to overtake the entire valley. Though nothing visibly told them they were in danger, the two hounds continuing their tracking, there was tension in the air that weighed heavily on the party. Something felt off, felt wrong. Was the maleficar waiting for them in ambush? Looking to exploit the open environment to his advantage? What kind of trap were they potentially wandering into? Was the blood mage even here?
When the group made it just short of halfway across the field, the two hounds stopped. They paced back and forth, circling and doubling back. They both sniffed fervently, trying to relocate that wanted scent. Cul slowed in his search, eventually giving up entirely. He took a seat in the tall grass, letting out a groan and huff of irritation. Kathryn calmly approached and crouched next to him, placing a hand upon his head. He tucked his ears back in a form of an apology. She shushed him softly, not believing he was in any fault. Pup returned to Cullen's side as well, ears tucked and head low in a similar fashion. They lost the trail.
Hordin was quick to move to Kathryn's side, kneeling and leaning close to loudly whisper due to the rain, "This isn't good Kat. We can't get caught out here."
"I worry we already have." the Warden-Commander replied, glancing his way before her eyes scanned over the surroundings. "I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched." The Templar grumbled, taking a moment to look around as well. He slowly unclipped and slid his greatsword from its sheath, the metal barely making a sound against the hardened leather.
With hand firmly latched to his sword hilt, the shine of metal peeking out, Cullen cautiously moved forward. "We need to move! This could be-!"
A potent sting and painful force dug deep into his shoulder, right between his armor plates, the whistle of the arrow catching up only after the fact. Cullen let loose an audible gag from the surprise attack, his shoulder flung back in reaction and he stumbled a couple steps in the applied direction. Before anyone could properly react, the surprise and gasps still upon their faces, a volley of arrows rained down upon them creating a blot of dark forms and angry hisses, mimicking the approach of a hungry locust swarm. They hadn't the time to dive for cover or enough shields at the ready.
Throwing up a single hand and calling upon her innate power, Kathryn released an invisible pulse of magic that thundered out across the open field, creating a ripple in the grass. The flying arrows shattered into countless pieces, flailing and spinning off course just in time to miss the party and fall harmlessly around them. In a split second, Asehan released a counter strike upon the enemy archers. One, two, three shots fired. His muscles tensed behind each draw of the powerful bow, the string snapping with each release, and the arrows cut through the air with such force they sung on high. The gags and cries of pain were the only sign of them hitting their marks, and they all did - remarkably. Cullen couldn't even see the enemy; they were so far away and hidden behind the cover of rock and storm. He assumed the qunari only fired three times because that's all he could aim at, and now the rest more than likely dove out of complete sight.
His instinct was to move to cover, to get out of the open valley, but as his eyes fell upon the Wardens, they all stood their ground and formed behind their Commander. It was probably safer behind her magical barrier anyways. Thus, he tore the arrow from his body, a thin line of blood trailing behind the broken head, and equipped his shield. It still stung and sent surges of heated pain each time he moved his arm, but it was better to endure the small injury than suffer a fatal blow without his defense. And then his feet moved in a haste, carrying him behind the now charging allied force as they rushed to get off the plateau and meet their assailants head on.
All weapons were drawn at this point and magic began to swirl around them. Bright fire enveloped Orin's staff, particularly the gnarled head, and he sent forth a ball of raging fire in retaliation. It fell just shy of the rocks, crashing and exploding in a fiery display upon the ground surface. Perhaps it wasn't meant to strike their enemies, but blind them to their approach? Or maybe he just missed. Whatever the case may be, it did nothing to deter the flanks on either side. The many forms surged from the shadows, the glow of red and sparks of dangerous energy strangling the powerfully augmented suits of warped plate armor and skin. Red Templars. Surprise and rage filled the General as he glared at the approaching enemies of the late Inquisition.
The pull of magic then hugged Cullen and the Wardens, a golden glow outlining their bodies, and suddenly everything visible slowed to a near crawl. The air felt light, the storm all but died, and his senses were heightened. He could taste the moisture like it was water running down his throat, the smell of grass and dirt strong as if his face was planted in it. The individual drops of rain were like sprinkles of refreshment, their Plops! audible against his armor and skin. He could hear the sheen of their metal weapons, the very air leaving their chests, the suction of mud under their boots, the bellows of orders before they were transformed into words. All the colors were richer, brighter, more distinctive; casting the world in bold contrast.
He felt the draw of magic before it fully came to life, as if he could physically feel the two mages pulling and shaping the invisible force directly from the Fade. He felt the tingle warp around his two weapons long before he saw its swirl of colors. He could taste its raw blandness and he could hear its soft hum. And then felt the heat rise around Orin as he summoned more fire. He saw the warm glow stretch in a line between them and one of the flanking forces, and watched it erupt in a wall of dancing flames. He also heard the surprise in the hushed gasp from the elf, as the Red Templars barreled through the scorching fire without a second thought or care. The fires dared not touch the corrupted knights.
In an instant, the clash of metal and the cries of battle rang out. The Red Templars, with all their enhanced strength and abilities, swung and jabbed at their prey, not once landing a solid hit. The Wardens ducked and weaved with their own enhanced speed and agility, easily dodging the visibly obvious attacks to them. Even Cullen evaded most strikes, able to detect and determine the path of their weapons before they neared. He sidestepped an overhead chop and sliced open the Templar's side, before knocking his shield against another's elbow - canceling their soon to be swing, and cut down the length of their spine. He spun quickly to face the next foe, stepping up and bringing his blade upwards across their front, its tip scratching annoyingly across their metal armor and slicing effortlessly through their exposed neck and chin, up half their face and splitting their helmet in two.
The whistle of arrows gave away their approach long before their arrival. Cullen and Kyle's shields easily caught and deflected the projectiles. The Sergeant was busy protecting the elven mage in back, guarding him from the distant arrows that occasionally flew at them and the Red Templars that charged at the youth. The man was nowhere near as skilled as they, but with his magical enhancements he endured, blocked, and countered their every attack. He rotated a blade off course and sank his own into their thigh, before reversing his swing and cutting open their gut. He blocked the next incoming foe, shifted his weight and position, and redirected their strike to knock them off balance. He quickly followed through with a forward thrust, his longsword sinking deep into their chest cavity from under their armpit.
Orin struggled to damage the resilient and magically resistance Templars, his fire licking their tainted bodies with no obvious effect. He sent blast after blast at them, some hits managing to stagger or slow their approach, but still they came. Sigils burned themselves into the ground, searing a temporary mark, before exploding in a thunderous ball of fire that plumed and spun, completely engulfing the terrifying Red Templars. And to the elven youth's surprise, roughly half of them collapsed and the others continued their march. So, he summoned up a more ancient, almost forgotten magic. The pair of Red Templars charged at the mage, his protector occupied, their calls of victory all but ensured. And then roots shot up from beneath the ground, the wiry wood entangling one of the Templars in a constricting cage, drawing screams of pain and fear. The second Templar turned just in time to get smacked clear across the field by an awakened Sylvan. Two of the animated trees came to the mage's aid.
Maya raced across the open valley like a wild gymnast. She rolled, flipped, and spun away from her enemies, getting behind them and either opening their throats or digging her daggers deep into their sides, puncturing lungs and other vital organs. She dipped low to the ground, practically disappearing in the long grass, flowing gracefully beneath a sideways swipe and hamstrung the Templar. In a swift move, the Red Templar slowly falling to a crippled leg, she rose and stabbed her curved blade into the side of his neck, before flawlessly moving to her next victim. The throwing knife was released between her fingers, its tip slipping just over the collar of the Templar's armor before stabbing deep into his throat. He gagged and gurgled, but did not fall until the assassin ran forward and took hold of her thrown weapon, flipped up and over his shoulder, twisted and then dragged the knife with her.
The huffs from the dwarven Warden were just as audible as the cracks of bone. Gabbie bounced on her toes, trying to stay nimble as the overpowering Red Templars came at her. They would swing low or from up high, and she would sidestep or duck and roll, letting out quick squeaks of worry from time to time. Gabbie managed to get behind one of the Templars and shoved her full weight into their backside, using their own momentum against them as they staggered into one another. Once they were on the ground, she pounced like an angry tiger and, with mace in hand, split open their skulls or shattered their necks and spines. There was no finesse or skill to her attacks, only raw emotion as she bashed them continuously even after their death.
In her onslaught, she was left open to attack and many Red Templars tried to act upon that opportunity. Unfortunately for them, the qunari guarded her back. Large, powerful arrows cut through the air in roaring song, puncturing hearty plate armor and piercing flesh. One shot flew cleanly through one of their necks, the man lost in a gurgle of blood as he toppled holding his throat. Another arrow struck an eye socket, the force behind the attack enough to snap his head backwards and shattered his neck bone. And Asehan was just as much an opportunist as marksman. He prowled the battlefield like a silent ghost, firing carefully aimed arrows that crippled foes engaged in combat or finished them off completely.
Asehan released an arrow that pierced all the way through a Red Templar's leg, abruptly halting their charge and dragging them to the ground. Hordin was the target of their attack, and he spun to remove the now crippled threat. The powerful swing of his greatsword severed the Red Templar's head clean from his shoulders, a spurt of blood ejecting from the torso. He used the length of his weapon to his advantage and kept his feet moving as he took those wide swings that dragged air behind them. The Red Templars still had enough mind to know not to directly engage the two-hander warrior, waiting to strike at his back or exposed sides. Even still, Hordin was faster than expected and managed to avoid the fatal strikes and deliver his own. Many Red Templars lost their limbs or guts to the Nevarran.
Those that swarmed against the Warden-Commander, though they first thought her an easy target, were faring far worse. The nimble mage danced circles around the Templars, her magic powerful enough to negate their resistance and dampening abilities, moving so quick she was like a bolt of living lightning. The blade of her staff sliced cleanly through their necks, blood seeping out only after she was already gone, and she tripped and crippled legs with the blunt end. Spears of ice shot from the ground beneath them, impaling them while they were still in the midst of falling, and encased others in frozen tombs. Electricity and sheer arcane force collapsed their lungs, either sending them flying through the air or crushing them against the ground, and those frozen in place were shattered into red-tinted mist.
The Red Templars toppled left and right, their bodies torn open and filling the pools with blood, their cries lost in the conflict. Cullen ducked under one last, panicked swing, slicing open both of their thighs in his lowered position before rising with an uppercut from his shield. The knight couldn't muster a proper cry or gag with his broken jaw, losing grip of his weapons as he was knocked prone. Cullen swiftly followed through, turning and plunging his longsword into the Red Templar's chest before he even heard the thud of his drop, the magic enveloping his weapon bypassing the corrupted steel plate. The General watched the fallen Templar breathe his last breath, the fear in his eyes dwindling with the light of life, and then lie motionless upon the blood-soaked battlefield.
He could smell it - the death, the now crimson streams, the ilk of their fallen foes. With heavy breaths, he scanned the once beautiful field now littered with bodies both whole and scattered, the taint of their red lyrium feasting on their corpses. The Wardens stood victorious, taking time to evaluate the scene as he, their chests heaving with adrenaline, dotted with sweat and blood splatter. Hordin and Gabbie looked the worse, both soaked head to toe from their onslaughts, while Asehan appeared spotless. The two towering, frighteningly humanoid Sylvan trees flanked the breathless mage in back, Orin still focusing his magic into them. And looking to the rocky outcrop, now no more than a handful of meters away, the corrupted archers shared very much the same fate as their brethren thanks to the hounds.
The golden magic faded and the world returned to normal speed, making it feel like the storm suddenly crashed on top of them. The downpour was welcoming. Its cold touch cooled their heated bodies and its moisture began to wash away the gore. Kathryn slowly began to make her rounds, checking on her men and the General, examining any injuries they may have gotten. Hordin was staring down at the bodies of the Red Templars, his face twisted in angered confusion. He didn't understand why they were fighting, why he had to kill his brothers. He didn't know that they were lost long before their arrival. Gabbie began to cry, tears pouring down her face like the rain. Maya silently moved and took her in a comforting hug, the dwarf burying her face in her shoulder, and Asehan came up behind them and added a gentle hand.
"What... is this?" Orin asked, prodding one of the crimson crystals with his staff, a snarl upon his face.
"Don't!" Cullen warned with a snap, to which the elf flinched and eyed him suspiciously. With a frustrated sigh, "It's red lyrium. A more powerful and addictive form, but also tainted by dark magic. It corrupts and consumed everything it touches."
"You've seen it before?" Kathryn asked as she approached the rigid man.
"Yes." Cullen's eyes turned down to the corpse that lie before him, memories of the Breach, the ruined Conclave, and the red glowing army that assaulted Haven coming to mind. He could still remember the screams of the dead and the howls of war, the smell of burning corpses, the unnerving depression and hopelessness that gripped the people. Cullen tried to shake away the memories, returning his attention back to the quiet Wardens. ".. We should leave this place. We-"
The glow and hunger of forbidden magic caught him. It caught everyone. In sudden flux, the blood around their feet grabbed them in a suction of powerful magic, a dark gravity trying to drag them to the ground. Tendrils shot out from the dark pool and caught their arms and weapons in a crimson net, and the lyrium crystals pulsed, tainted energy returning to the jagged, corrupted shards. There was a collective gasp, followed by a few growls and yells of either resistance or fear, as Cullen and the Wardens were forcibly brought to their knees.
The trap had been sprung! The party lured into an ambush of Red Templars, who more than likely had no idea they were being played as well, where no matter the victor the slaughter provided the maleficar with the fuel and power he needed. Cullen growled through clenched teeth, struggling to fight the downward pull on his body. He felt as if his limbs would be torn from their sockets, his bones crushed as his body fought to maintain structure, or his insides ripped out of him. Kathryn was down in front of him, struggling just as much as he was. He could see the strain on her face, the sweat that dotted her forehead from exhaustion, and the fierce determination in her eyes. They locked gazes for painfully dragged seconds, each silently telling the other not to give up. To resist!
He hadn't the strength to lift his head to eye the others or to glare at the maleficar that so proudly and effortlessly led them into this trap. He could hear their struggles, the groans, the growls, the screams. Both angry and scared. He felt the dangerous sway of losing consciousness, the edge of his vision blurring from his growing fatigue. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. How much longer he could resist the blood magic attempting to swallow him whole! And then Kathryn's hand shot at him, her glowing palm slamming into his chest and delivering a knocking pulse of magic into his core.
Opaque darkness claimed him then, that familiar emptiness that surrounded his aloof existence. He felt as if he was drifting, flying through an unnatural sky, a weightlessness keeping him suspended in still animation. There was no sense of time or direction, but he knew he was being drawn somewhere. His trusty gut told him so.
The black nothingness soon gave way to form - thick and airy with soft, rounded mounds. It still felt empty, though moisture and the hint of color soon played before his awareness. Surges of pure electric energy scorched through the sky, their jagged forms a wicked blood red, revealing the storm that he drifted in. He could not speak or move in any reaction before he felt the pull of gravity, that force dragging him downwards exponentially. He watched the clouds blur and mold to his non-existing body, fading away to reveal the fortress down below, that strangely familiar stone structure drawing closer with each second before his inevitable crash.
Cullen shot up in his bed, panting labored breaths and sweating after his waking nightmare. He spun quickly in his seat, hastily taking in his surroundings, expecting the enemy to be standing over his limp body. But he was alone. Alone in his room, so sparse and kept. A short, square table rested next to his large bed, a single bookcase stocked full with tombs, scrolls, and loose paper stood across the way, two rustic red rugs covered portions of the wooden floor, and the glow of daylight shone dimly through the open gap in the ceiling above him.
"I'm…" Cullen staggered to find his words. He knew exactly where he was, his eyes wide in shock.
The General shot to his feet, to the ladder that led down into his office - also sparse with only the heft of his sturdy desk to give any "fill" to the room, and then he slammed the southern door open. The bustle of Skyhold came to life the instant the door flew open, a slew of conversations muffled over varied distances. Soldiers patrolled the stone battlements and passively gave him a salute as he slowly strode out. He could see the wide collection of their allies wandering the grounds, ranging from Orlesian nobles, to Chantry clerics, to studious magi, and qunari mercenaries. He spotted Dennet down tending to the stables, able to hear the horses neighing further in, and Cassandra reading one of her books over near the dummies.
Laughter and play pulled him away from his silent stun. Cullen's honey-coated eyes turned down near the base of the steps, where the tavern greeted the wall, and saw Blackwall there with Cole at his back, "protecting" the spirit from a child wearing his symbolic Lion Helm, the little girl trying so hard to sound ferocious with her roar.
"Make have Mercy!" Blackwall called out, his fear an obvious ploy in their playful act. "A fierce lioness has invaded the keep! We must rally the troops!"
"She's not a lion. That's Ser Cullen's daughter, Blackw-" Cole tried to explain, completely missing the point.
"A fierce lioness." Blackwall was quick to correct.
Cullen felt himself stiffen. He stared down at the trio, not knowing what to expect. His daughter?! He didn't have a daughter. He didn't even have a wife! What was going on? Why was he back in Skyhold?! The General quickly reevaluated his surroundings. The fort was as he remembered, with the troops and all, but the brooding sky above, its clouds dark and discolored as if filled with blood and those sharp crimson bolts, painted the area in an off hue of red color. It felt wrong, it all felt wrong, like some maleficent force held everything in its palm. This was not Skyhold. This was not Thedas. Was he… in the Fade? Somehow fully awake? A headache throbbed in his skull, forcing the man to bring a hand to his temple and let out a groan of discomfort. This wasn't right.
"Commander." a soldier saluted as they approached. Cullen cautiously turned his gaze to them, silently judging the man as if he were a potential enemy. Appearing oblivious to his commander's suspicion, "The Inquisitor wishes to see you, ser."
Cullen's eyes narrowed. The Inquisitor, huh? More like a demon in disguise. He stepped away from the wall to head in the direction of the main keep, thinking to deal with the problem head on. His attention was stolen away, however, when he heard that little girl, his daughter, call out "Mommy!". He couldn't help but skitter to a stop and look down, his own curiosity betraying him. He watched that little girl run to greet a woman entering through the main gate, struggling to keep his helmet on as it bobbed heavily atop her shoulders. The woman in question, his supposed wife and mother of his child, wore the armor of a Grey Warden and a familiar staff was strapped to her back. Cullen's heart stuttered. Was that, supposed to be Kathryn?
"Commander?" the soldier spoke again, the question in his voice suggesting concern.
Cullen was able to tear himself away from the family greeting and the burn in his heart. With purposefully steps, he made his way across the bridge and into the main keep, no one daring to get in his way. He climbed down the spiraling steps from the library, Dorian sitting in his usual comfy chair, and walked across the main entry hall where the Dragon Throne overlooked the length of the hall. He could see Varric working on his next book further down and Vivienne posing on the balcony above. He passed Josephine's flourished office, the lovely ambassador sitting with a posh noble next to the hearth and discussing nonsense. And then he pushed open the heavy doors to the War Room.
Cullen easily recognized the grand room, with its tall windows topped with stained glass overlooking the sacred garden, the bold red drapes spanning all the way from the vaulted ceiling high above, and the one-a-kind war table cut from an ancient tree trunk and smoothed into its current purpose, the roots of the same tree hanging above as a unique chandelier. The large table itself was nearly covered by a map exploring the countries of Ferelden and Orlais, with the southern portions of the Free Marches and Anderfels also recorded, and small markers dotted the detailed map with a stack of books and reports set off to the side. And looming over that impressive table was Inquisitor Kaaras Adaar.
The ashen qunari stood a good two feet above Cullen at full height, his broad shoulders and muscular build contrasting with his oddly soft face. He had similar horns to the Arishok back in Kirkwall, sweeping back from his shaved head, and though a thin black goatee hardened his lower features, his blue eyes were deeper than any ocean known. Josephine liked to call him "her gentle giant".
"Ah! There you are!" Adaar piped up excitedly, a smile spreading and a gleam growing in his eyes. "Excellent! I was hoping to work out the details involving-"
Cullen scoffed, shifting his weight in disbelief. "What details? The Inquisition is done. And I'll not stay in this fantasy world of yours, I demand you release me!"
The Inquisitor stared at him in startle for some time, analyzing him. His smile did return, though not nearly as cheerful, "Impressive. You are fully aware of where you are, aren't you? And here I thought only mages could perceive with such clarity." Cullen did not answer, the large qunari making his way around the table to stand with no barricade between them. "You are in the Fade, trapped by the demon ruling this realm. And I am not the Inquisitor, as you've already discerned no doubt."
"So why act the part? Why bother with all this pretend?!" Cullen glared at the false qunari, pointing outward towards the center of Skyhold in his speech.
"I took this form because it is one you recognize, a friendly face. I am here to help you, Cullen, that is why I called you to this room - it is sanctioned from the demon." He paused in his plea, perhaps to see the reaction. When it did not change, he continued. "I understand your caution, and it is warranted, but you will need my help if you wish to escape this place."
"Then point me at the demon so that I may slay it."
"I'm afraid it's not as simple as that."
"Then out with it!" Cullen ordered, not wanting to spend anymore unnecessary time with this mockery of the Inquisitor. The very act of speaking with a Fade creature sickened him. "Stop stalling and get straight to the point!"
The towering figure stared down the General, the softness in its eyes replaced with a more insidious glare. It didn't like being told what to do. With a muffled chuckle, a grin formed and the familiar qunari returned. "Shall I be blunt then? You're not strong enough to take on this demon, nonetheless the more powerful one. If you wish to return to your world, you must destroy both and you'll need my help, for I can provide you with the strength you require... All you need to do is accept it." The Inquisitor extended out its hand in offering.
Cullen not once looked down to its hand, keeping his hard gaze firmly on their face. The long pause seemed to upset the would-be leader of the Inquisition, a grimace folding its face downward. And when it noticed Cullen had a solid grip on the hilt of his sword, did it glower and lower its offer. With swiftness, that disapproval turned upside down and the common softness of the qunari revived.
"This is a difficult decision for you, I see." With a nod and gesture towards the door, "Feel free to think it over, maybe enjoy the dream created for you. When you are ready to leave, come see me." The Inquisitor walked back around the other side of the table, leaning to retake his earlier position. "Dismissed."
Cullen growled at the creature, but kept himself from outright attacking it. With a grunt, he spun and quickly exited, slamming the doors open in a fit. If he walked with purpose before, now he walked with heated intention. He ignored Josephine's concerned comment as he passed by, the woman just as false as the rest of them. He stormed out into the hall, the gossiping nobles quickly moving out his way so not to get run over and making their own commentary afterwards. And when he reached those open doors, the view of the moist, grassy grounds speckled with people meeting his eyes, did he finally stop. Hesitated was a better word.
Kathryn was out there, with their daughter, mock fighting with wooden swords. He could hear them laughing. Their playful cheer like music to his ears and causing his heart to ache even more, to ache for the real thing. He wanted to be out there, to be a part of that joy, to teach his daughter, to embrace his wife, to share in their love and relish in the thought that he could have it. That this dream… was more than a dream.
"Turn away."
Cullen turned quickly to the firm, feminine voice edged with an Orlesian accent, his hand instinctively on the hilt of his blade. He spun to find Leliana standing there, or some creature pretending to be her, arms tucked behind the small of her back in her usual fashion. She appeared just as mysterious and elusive as ever with the dark backdrop, wearing her chainmail and hood instead of the robes of the Divine.
"The more you indulge in this realm, the harder it will be for you to leave." she said, those aqua eyes glancing outside briefly before flicking back to him. "Please follow me, I will explain everything."
The Nightingale didn't wait for a response, stepping deeper into the shadows of the hall and moving towards the side wall. Cullen didn't follow immediately, eyeing the individual with just as much suspicion as he did the "Inquisitor". She glanced back to him, her visage unchanged, and placed a hand on the wall. The stone disappeared to reveal a hidden doorway, its edges lacking any sort of border, and she walked through to enter impeccable darkness. The General didn't know if he should follow or not. This could be another trap. A lure made by a demon to keep him forever trapped here. And yet, something told him differently. His gut told him to follow.
Cullen stepped through that magically created doorway, finding a narrow set of steps leading down, and as he followed those first few the wall closed behind him silently. He cautiously placed a hand on his sword, ready to draw it at the slightest sign of trouble, descending further down in the bowels of this Skyhold. It opened into a small chamber lit by candlelight, the old study covered with dust and cobwebs, the bookcases stuffed full of ancient tombs and manuscripts. Leliana was continuing ahead of him, leading him out of the study to the under chamber which Cullen somewhat recognized. Yes, he did recall venturing down here once, when they first explored the seemingly ageless ruin.
With a subtle sway of her hand, the fireplace near the center of the room came to life, burning an eerie blue. And then she turned around to face him. "We should be safe here. There are too many eyes and ears up above."
Now Cullen felt more uneasy, but stepped closer. With a hiss of disdain, "What do you want, demon?"
Leliana narrowed her eyes in threat, "I am no demon, mortal, and it would be wise to not insult me again. I am a spirit of Valor and I was sent here to aid you in your quest."
"Sent? By who?" Cullen asked with no less hostility.
"I was sent by the Warden-Commander, I am her tie to this world." The "Lady" Valor went on to explain further when Cullen gave her a questionable look. "While the Commander is an impressive and experienced mage, not all of her magic can be conjured by herself. I supply a portion of her arcane might, in particular, her more powerful healing properties. You mortals call her a Spirit Healer, and I am her conduit."
Cullen stared at the spirit with disgust and disbelief, his body tensing at the thought of there being any truth in its words. "She made a deal with you?"
"And that deal has kept her alive! As well as saved the lives of many others. You walk because of it." The spirit snipped back. "You think I am here to corrupt her, to take her body for my own?" She shook her head, calming back down. "I am a spirit of the Fade, I've no interest in walking amongst your world, I am content where I am. I was merely impressed by her own courage and valor that I agreed to aid her during times of peril."
"So I am to take your word on this? That you've never tried to possess her?!"
"You don't have to take anything from me, I can leave if it pleases you. But you should place more faith in your Commander. Many have tried to take my place and enter her world, none have succeeded." The spirit then waved a dismissive hand with a disgruntled sigh. "Enough of this! I've not come here to suffer through your incompetence. You must leave this realm and save the others from their own imprisonments, that is your quest. To do so you must kill the demon holding you here and embark further into the Fade."
"Further into the Fade?! Why not send me back home?!" Cullen protested, not one bit interesting in exploring this haunting place.
"If I had the power, mortal, but I do not. You will need to free the Warden-Commander from her prison if you wish to return to your world. She is hidden further in."
"H- .. How am I to find her? I'm no mage."
"Evidently." The spirit commented. "Did you ever wonder why you are so aware of your surroundings? It is because the Warden-Commander imparted a piece of herself into you, her magical attunement. You are able to move and interact with the Fade as a mage would."
Cullen teetered back on his heels, surprise and uncertainty washing over him. He could hardly believe what this so-called spirit was saying. It was impossible! You can't just give someone magical capabilities! They either have it or they don't! With a frustrated sigh and skeptical look, "Fine! Say I can, where do I need to go? How am I supposed to find Kathryn and the others?"
"The Fade does not function like your world. Where you see yourself with your equipment, you in fact carry nothing. What you consider up, could be down. I will act as your guide and lead you to each of their imprisonments, but it will be up to you on freeing them."
Cullen foiled his brow, "Does that include dealing with the demons?"
The Lady Valor did not respond immediately, easily reading his distrust. Instead she turned and began to lead him back upstairs, taking the "normal" route. "You have already met your demon, you need only deal with him. I will not interfere for this battle is your own. If you require my assistance later, you need only ask."
Cullen climbed the steps shortly after her, only to watch her disappear in a sudden globe of light in which she walked through. In a huff, he opened the door ahead of him and stepped back into the entry hall. He didn't dare pause, knowing he would hear their voices outside and risk being torn from escape. With increasing speed, he raced back to the War Room, where the demon Inquisitor was waiting for him. No words were spoken as the demon already knew the answer. Cullen drew his blade and shield, the fire alight in his eyes, and he half leapt, half stepped atop the table as he charged the large foe on the other side.
The Inquisitor glared and roared in fury at the challenging act, bringing a hand forward and drawing upon some dark magical energy to knock the General from the air. Cullen felt the cold, gut twisting force hit him, but he used his shield to deflect most of it and mentally resisted its sickening and slowing effect. His sword severed the extended forearm of the qunari looking demon, fitting to the real Inquisitor, and silenced its scream of agony as he pummeled right into him with his shield. Adaar fell back onto the floor, crashing loudly, with Cullen pinning it down with shield to its throat and body atop its torso. He saw those blue orbs turn solid black and fangs grow in its dripping mouth. Its horns began to multiply and its skin turn a violet hue.
No, this ends here! Cullen slammed his shield into its throat, choking it and drawing inky blood where the metal cut the flesh, and then plunged his sword into its heaving chest from a sideways angle, piercing a lung and then its heart, if it had any to begin with. The demonic qunari hissed and gagged, its eyes bulging outward, struggling to get at least one claw on him, its body quivering before falling still. Cullen watched the life drain from the twisted demon, its form stuck in mid transformation between its true form and the Inquisitor's identity. He took in a few deep breaths, not so much from exertion, but from the fact that it was over so quick. He expected more.
"The magic-" Valor began, Cullen spinning on his heels defensively, "- given to you increased your already strong will, enabling you to resist the demon's magic more effectively."
The spirit walked from the open doorway, Leliana's appearance changing to a ghostly visage of a person before reshaping itself into a completely different form. A warrior clad in plate armor, decorative etches carved into it but with no form of heraldry, with a winged helm, flowing cape, and a sword on either hip, strode into the room without fear. This was the spirit's true appearance. Cullen eyed him no differently than before, keeping his ready stance. Valor gave him a passing glance, continuing to the back of the room and placed a hand to the center window. The expanse of the glass lit up into a magical portal, the others going completely dark as the reality of the dream disappeared, the wooden doors behind them slamming shut. No longer could he see the garden or the keep outside, no longer did he hear the birds or the storm or the people, no longer did he feel that pull or snag for him to stay.
Valor turned to face the General. "The door has been opened for you mortal. The choice is yours if you wish to follow this path, or if you wish to stay and live this illusionary life." He gestured towards each exit appropriately, the window and then the door leading back out into Skyhold proper.
Cullen didn't spare a second thought. He walked over to the spirit, giving him a questionable snick eye for better lack of terms, and then stepped through the portal. The blinding light faded quickly as Cullen stepped out into heavenly daylight, the roars of the crowd immediately catching his attention as he soon realized he stood in the middle of an arena. The grand, circular monument stood four or five stories, filled with howling people. Blood red drapes hung at angles overhead bathing everyone in crimson shadow, flags soared on high, and statues of black marble lined the high walls, representing the glory of gladiators and heroes past. The dirt ground was flat and clean, minus the rose pedals that drifted through the air and collected in romantic clumps.
"And here he is! Ladies and Gentlemen!" the crier shouted above all others, "From the Grandeur of our almighty Capital! Your Champion! Serah Hordin Aurelian of Nevarra!"
The crowd went up in an uproar, shooting to their feet in cheer, throwing ribbons and flowers into the air. The gaggle from all the women was the loudest, Cullen noticed. And he then watched the ground, in the center of the arena, open to allow the platform that carried up the crouched, almost noble looking Nevarran to rise. A heavy cloak of fur fell from the warrior's shoulders as he stood, revealing a polished silverite suit of classic gladiator armor adorned with draconic themes and black cloth accents. Hordin's left arm was covered in stylized plate, including the top half of a dragon maw on his shoulder, while his right remained bare, minus the black cloak that wrapped heavily on that side. A cocky grin spread wide on the Nevarran's face as he looked upon his opponent, confident and proud, and he lifted the hefty greatsword implanted in the ground with a single hand, striding forward.
Cullen wasn't surprised by Hordin's glorified entrance, if a bit extreme, or the inspiration of this dream in fact. The man was a bit of an adrenaline junkie, recklessly running head long into a welcome challenge, and though he was talented, Cullen did not doubt there were many times the Templar barely survived. In which turn probably only fueled his desire to seek more battle. And most Nevarrans were proud of their heritage, fighting for past glory and memory, and the Grand Tourney was a world-known event which brought the entirety of Thedas together.
The General eyed the approaching man with respect, evaluation, and caution, as he did bare his greatsword with intent of use, but did not lift his own weapons in defense. He had to somehow get through to the towering warrior, to convince him this life was a lie and that their fight was meaningless - if only it was to please the demon in charge. Hordin slowed in his approach as he drew near, his eyes narrowing in a level of discontent towards the calm General, his grin fading briefly. He was being strangely quiet. No snort or banter of arrogance. No cocky dialogue or taunt. And suddenly he charged. Cullen saw it coming, his odd silence and tensing muscles giving him away. The Nevarran closed in seconds, his powerful weapon lifted high in the air and then brought down to sever him in two. Cullen easily sidestepped the swing, hearing the whoosh and feeling the wind fly across his face from the weapon's pull.
Hordin did not slow in his assault, using the momentum to quickly reposition and spin to face his "challenger", the great weapon acting as a temporary shield before swinging out again in a sideways swipe, followed by another and another. Cullen jumped back from the wide attack, exiting Hordin's reach momentarily, then dodged and ducked under the third swing. Still he did not rise his weapons against the Nevarran, staying quick on his feet and actively avoiding getting hit. It made him question what would happen should he get hit. Would he feel pain as if it were real? Could he die in the Fade? If so, what would become of him then? … Cullen didn't feel like testing it out anyways.
Hordin let out a yell of frustration, putting more strength and energy into his attacks. The General kept on his toes, moving with swiftness and agility, continuing to dodge and weave around the Nevarran's strikes. He was becoming angry, he noted, his frustration driving him to higher limits and carelessness. That's what Cullen was planning on. However, he also noticed each death-ensured swing was getting closer to hitting its mark. There were a few times he had to lift his shield and deflect the greatsword off track, and with each one he felt the might put behind them. Hordin whipped his large weapon around in an almost effortless display, the tip of his blade suddenly tearing through the ground as he brought it in an upwards swing. The drag only slowed the attack minorly and at the last second he twisted the blade to catch and fling chunks of the dirt floor into Cullen's face.
The General easily blocked the debris, his shield angled to bounce the clumps harmlessly off to the side, but the dust he could not afford to completely block without going blind to Hordin's next incoming attack. He squinted through the fine particles, vaguely capturing the Champion's overhead chop. The greatsword came down with enough power it severed cleanly into the ground, kicking up more dirt, but did not rise again. When the dust cleared, it revealed to the gawking and gasping crowd that Cullen had deflecting the attack just enough with his shield, pushing it aside, and his sword was readily positioned above it with the tip threatening Hordin's exposed neck. A small twinkle of blood slowly escaped the sharp wound.
Labored breaths escaped both warriors, though Hordin was heaving far harder, and the surprise in his eyes was just as loud. He was the undefeated champion, this was his dream, how could he lose? As least that's what Cullen believed was running through his mind.
"Enough." Cullen finally said, his narrowing eyes a glare of discontent. "I will fight you no longer. It's time for you to break free of this curse." Hordin glared back equally, though with a hint of uncertainty or suspicion as he silently listened. "Your mind is trapped in the Fade. This place, this tournament, this fight, it's all a lie." Cullen kept his blade close to his throat only because he saw Hordin's grip tighten, as if to disprove him and keep fighting. With a light growl, "You must resist it, resist its unnatural pull! Can you not feel it?! Were you not a Templar?!"
Hordin laughed at him then. "Templar? Me? You're a real character, Ferelden. Why on earth would I want to join that lame party?"
Cullen growled at the non-intentional insult. Though he left the Order for good reasons, he joined it for good ones too. "Then what of the Wardens? Do you not remember joining their cause? Fighting alongside them?!"
"Are you trying to distract me with your nonsense? Why not get this done and over with? What's staying your blade?" There was a subtle snicker in there, a challenge to the man that held the sword to his throat. "Are you scared?"
"Are you?" Cullen countered, unimpressed by his attempt to debuff him. A grin crossed the Nevarran's face, but something else flickered in his eyes. Had the two not been glaring at one another, Cullen might have missed it. It was fear, but not fear of death. "What is it that you fear? What are you hiding?"
"Hiding? I've got nothing to hide. I've no shame in this defeat, it was glorious and well earned." Hordin shifted ever so slightly, again challenging the blade at his throat.
"Then you've no shame in explaining how you got here? How you became the Champion of this place?"
With an amused chuckle, "Do you wish to be regaled in my awesomeness? To figure out how to become greater than me?" Cullen did not answer, staring him down with the same level of serious drive. Hordin paused, his smirk fading. Perhaps he caught on to the General's disconcert on this world, on the fight, or perhaps he was trying to find the answer. His face grimaced and his brow foiled, "I became Champion through… through…" Hordin's eyes turned downward as he struggled to remember the non-existing lie.
Cullen removed his blade from his throat then and stepped away, giving him enough space to breath and focus. "You're not the Champion." he explained. "You were a Templar, and now a Warden. We fought side by side with the Hero of Ferelden, chasing a blood mage. Do you remember?"
"A blood mage? Why would...?" Hordin questioned with disdain, though his voice fell short.
The snap of lightning and clap of thunder shook the grounds, the entire area going dark in the blink of an eye and suddenly they stood in a completely different realm. Cullen went on the defensive, eyeing his new surroundings with extreme caution and uncertainty. They stood in the hollows of a cave, dark and damp with the drops of water echoing periodically against the uneven stone, and as he turned to the dancing light source, Cullen's eyes widened in shock and horror. The glow of at least a hundred candles revealed a dark-haired woman laid upon a stone slab, runes of blood beneath and upon her desecrated body, her prominent round stomach ripped open.
With mournful hisses and growls between clenched teeth, Hordin gripped his sword even more as he fell to his knees. "Marreese… My wife, and…" The cries of an unborn child wailed in the background. Cullen shuttered in his stricken form, blanching. He blood ran cold. "M-My son... Taken from me, by a… a mage!" Hordin growled with such ferocity and scorn he rivaled a raging dragon. His glare hardening in his eyes enough it looked like he could cut diamonds with a mere look. There was so much hate, so much sorrow in those brown orbs that no tears could even begin. Cullen remained silent as he observed the poor man once again submerged in suffering. With a deep breath, Hordin rose to his feet and though he lost most of his bite, his eyes did not lessen. "That's why I left the Order. Seeking vengeance for the wrongs committed against my family… And when I finally found her, after months of unrelenting pursuit, crossing the Waking Sea into unfamiliar lands, was that vengeance stripped from me."
The scene changed once more, to something no more appealing, but recognizable - the Storm Coast. Everything was drenched in rain and bloodshed, the sky above dark and hungry, with hideous monsters and fires consuming the village that once belonged here. Darkspawn hissed in their joyous slaughter, tainting the land black and twisted, like themselves. Hordin and Cullen stood atop a small peak of rock that overlooked the destruction, watching the memory unfold before their eyes.
"The Blight." Cullen surmised, reflections of the devastating event returning to him as well.
"I was so angry, so lost when I found the mage had died to their hands and not my own." Hordin recalled, taking a moment to look down to his empty palms, "How was I supposed to avenge them now? Now that their killer was forever beyond my reach?" The Nevarran placed a hand to his chest, the gladiator armor he once wore replaced with the well-used, scratched armor of the Wardens. "I joined the Grey Wardens in the weak attempt, the miserable hope, that I might kill the darkspawn that took away my vengeance. And in doing so, finally be released of my burden... I was willing to delve into the Deep Roads and cleanse it of as many darkspawn as I could, no matter the consequences."
"... You seek to rejoin them." Cullen commented softly, sympathetic to the Templar who lost his family to blood magic.
"Yes… Yes I do, brother." Hordin answered with sincerity, a weak smile crossing his face shortly afterwards. The thought of dying, was not a mournful one.
Silence fell between them and it was welcomed. For quite some time, they simply watched the fires burn in the distance, the cries and dark forms vanishing from their view. And from the fiery dance, Cullen caught sight of a bluish-white light off to the side. It was the Spirit, waiting for them. The General let out a silent sigh and turned to the distant Templar, whose eyes stared blankly into the flames. With a simple gesture of placing a hand on the man's shoulder, Cullen stole his attention and then started down the hillside. Hordin followed shortly afterwards, strapping his greatsword back in place. They easily climbed down the rocks and approached the crispy skeleton of a house where the spirit waited.
Hordin slowed momentarily and glared, his hand returning to grip his sword if need be, unsure of this Fade creature. Cullen understood his caution, especially after just witnessing the dark part of his past, and agreed full-heartedly. Valor said nothing to the grimacing two, identifying their concerns and suspicions, and instead turned to the doorway of the burnt home. With another touch, a portal opened between the charred wood and the spirit stepped through, disappearing in that swirling light. Cullen moved to follow, but Hordin caught his shoulder.
"What are you doing?! We can't trust that thing!"
"I don't, but we don't have many options either." Cullen answered, "It's what brought me here to find you, and claims to be leading us to the others."
"The others? Shit, well, I guess that makes sense." Hordin cursed lightly, shifting with unease. "Then we should wait for Kat to find us. She knows more about this place than any of us, and it's a hell of a lot better than trusting the word of that, demon."
Cullen nodded in a measure of agreement, but felt they couldn't afford to wait and see. "In any other case I would agree with you. I've no desire to explore this place, to follow the spirit, but time is against us. The longer we dwell here, the harder it will be to leave. Kathryn is the only one who can get us back and she is trapped. Somewhere."
"So we're to trust this, spirit you say? Trust it's leading us to her and not some damn trap?" The man sneered, mumbling quietly at the end, "I'm getting sick and tired of being led into traps."
"We've no other option. I do not trust it, but something tells me it isn't lying. We must follow, and hope it's for the best." Cullen sighed weakly.
"And expect the worse." Hordin scoffed and shook his head in a manner of disbelief. "Alright, fine. Let's see what horrific nightmare awaits us."
The two former Templars eventually stepped through the portal. The light once again consumed them in temporary blindness, before giving away to another scene. The blood red moon glared down upon them from the night sky, the air bitter and heavy with the scent of pine, and a thick fog crawled over the rugged landscape. They stood in a temperate woodland up in a rocky terrain, pines and ferns dominated much of the place, along with protruding stone and rough cliff faces. A single trail laid before them, worn into the dirt and timid grass.
"I recognize this place, I think." Hordin began, spinning slowly as he took in their new surroundings. ".. I'll let you know if it comes to me."
They were positioned atop a small hill, providing them with quite the view of the land. It was scenic and beautiful, the mix of sculpted stone and deep green appealing to the eye. The mountains were proud and regal, but nowhere near the height and strength of the Frostbacks. No snow graced their steep slopes, instead blanketed by evergreens, and off in the far distance, they could just barely make out the rolling hills of Ferelden's rich soil, the edge of the Bannorn.
The General turned away from the view, to the path that led down the rocky hillside and into deep shadows and concealing fog. It was foreboding, the one trail either leading them to their needed destination or some dark end, but what else were they to do? They could wander this mountainous place, perhaps, but where would they end up? The Fade was anything but safe and certain. He knows enough about it to not trust his eyes here. Everything they see, those trees, those rocks, none of it is real and can spontaneously change in this daunting place. Regardless, the man walked on, Hordin following behind, both cautious as they felt the fog envelop them in a blanket of cold white haze.
The trees and cliffs turned into looming shadows, the red moon reflecting its light off the fog and created an outer layer of crimson mist, while the wet growls and chilling howls of angry wolves echoed in the windless air. Both Cullen and Hordin paused in their tracks, hands readily on their weapons, eyeing their concealed surroundings to the best of their abilities. They could see little beyond a few feet, unless something was up high, but their hearing was still intact - given the Fade didn't warp that sense as well. Nothing moved or neared them, the snarls of the beasts hidden further down the path. Everything about this place was quickly becoming unnerving. The duo continued forward, following the barely noticeable trail as they trudged over and down uneven ground, between grasping rock formations, and along narrow ledges. At every turn, they could almost feel death reaching for them, the sense of being watched nagging at the back of their minds, and the distance of these unseen wolves shifting in chaos.
"We're lost, aren't we?" Hordin asked, sounding nonchalant despite his true feelings. He was doing well in trying to contain himself, he knew just as well as Cullen that any over expression of emotion garnered attention.
"I.. I don't know. It's impossible to tell." The General responded with a level of calm, burying his uncertainty and unease.
"The demon is trying to confuse you." Valor spoke, both Hordin and Cullen spinning to face the spectral warrior. He had startled them, their blades fully unsheathed, and his crouched position above them didn't ease them either as he perched in an advantageous location. The spirit noted their concern and moved to join them, hopping down the incline. While he did so, his form changed to something more fitting to their environment, as four paws landed on the ground instead of two boots. "You are near your destination, only off track. I will lead you."
Shaking away his gawk, "Hold on! Wh-What the hell?! Why did-?!"
The ghostly wolf eyed Hordin, reading his thoughts, "I must disguise myself else risk discovery. If I am found, the demon will try to expel me from this realm, leaving you two on your own. Though I am confident in your martial capabilities, finding your way is proving a challenge." Neither Cullen or Hordin commented on that last part, keeping their mouths shut to their obvious disadvantage. Valor turned and began to lead them on, "Come."
The two cautiously followed, Hordin commenting, "This is bullshit. I hate the Fade."
Further into the unknown they went. The fog did not lessen, but its reach fell away from them thanks to the spirit's presence, revealing the rugged hazards of this world. It was a miracle the two hadn't fallen to a cruel fate earlier, given how close they walked to death's door. They both stared down the bottomless pit into nothingness, the gravel around their feet crumbling near the steep drop. As they moved past the gaping hole, they stepped carefully around spiked stalagmites and peaks clumped on the beaten path, avoiding a disastrous fall. And further down they practically crawled along a ledge barely the width of their feet, with the slope at their back bending outward, threatening to push them down a barbed wall of stone.
And then they stood at the edge of a bubbling pool, the air heavy with the taste of acid, and both men looked to the wolf and said, "No!" There was no argument, for none was allowed. Valor took them down a different path. Climbing the sheer rock face was far more appealing to the two soldiers, and they accepted the challenge and dangers of it. Valor waited for them at the top, the spirit had leapt vertically up the twenty or thirty feet, defying all laws of nature. Cullen could hear Hordin grumbling nearby, complaining and insulting the Fade and all its damnations. He didn't disagree with the man. When the Templar reached the top, he glared at the patient spirit before turning and offering a helping hand to the General.
"You have arrived." Valor said as the two moved away from the cliff's edge.
Cullen and Hordin were a bit puzzled, but also relieved in a sense, as they found a rustic log cabin, a similar shed, and a mine entrance nestled amongst the trees and rocks. The dark shadows were pushed back from the creepy buildings thanks to the red moonlight shining down from the open cliff side. A dim light could be seen inside the cabin, a lone lantern by judge of its strength and hue of glow, and the wood seemed to creak on its own. However, what stopped them from proceeding into that cabin was the fact that a person, or creature mimicking one, stood near the mine entrance.
"So. Do we ask questions before or after we start swinging?" Hordin asked as he glared at the distant figure who hadn't seem to take notice of them yet, despite their open location.
"We'll see." Cullen answered, completely comfortable with either option. He moved forward, his purposeful steps catching the attention of the "soldier" standing guard at the mine.
"Hold, strangers." the man held up a hand to halt them. "You are approaching Lord Addi's private property. What- How, did you get here?" He sounded perplexed by their sudden arrival.
"Lord Addi?" Hordin said with a measure of surprise, his brow foiled. "You mean the crazy guy with the hate-on for Asehan?"
"Asehan? You speak of the savage, yes?" The soldier responded, a sneer curling his nose, "That horned monster is undeserving of mercy. Lord Addi has done the land a service in removing it and its ilk from this world."
Cullen glared at the man, easily piecing together whose dream, or more appropriately, whose nightmare this was tailored to. "Where is the qunari?"
"Who's asking?" he spoke defensively, "What's the savage to you strangers?"
Cullen merely glanced at the irritated Nevarran. Hordin decked the guy square in the face, the punch breaking the man's nose and cracking his head against the stone when he tumbled back. The soldier toppled to the ground and didn't get back up. With a chuckle, "That felt good."
"We need to move quickly. It didn't make Asehan's position sound pleasing." Cullen urged. He stepped forward and pushed open the wooden door to the mine.
Like expected, it turned into a poorly lit tunnel of worked rock and rotting wood frames. The drips of liquid could be heard further in, along with growls and whines. Cullen slowly drew his blade as he moved forward, following the slight curve of the tunnel. There were a few barrels and crates piled along the way, a mining pick resting on the ground next to them, but their age and condition suggested they hadn't been touched in quite some time. Whatever activity worked this place now, it was not for mining. And the animalistic growls supported this as they eventually stepped into a cut out room. Iron cages filled much of this chamber, each insidiously crafted with barbs aimed inward to the wolves trapped within. They growled and whined, their frames weak and starved, their fur disheveled and splattered with dry blood.
Cullen wasn't expecting to find wolves. His surprise must have caught Hordin's attention as the man spoke. "I was told Asehan was in part raised by wolves. I thought everyone was joking, but damn... Looking at all this, I sure hope they were."
The two slowly moved through the maze of cages and snarling beasts. Most of the large canines remained near the back of their prisons, but a few lunged and threatened them as they passed by. Eventually they reached the far end of the chamber and its adjoining hall. Blood soaked the floor in a trail leading from the hall, that eventually turned out of sight, to the hanging remains of wolves skinned and butchered. Their bloody bones and hides dangled and dripped above the floor in the corner of the room. The smell was appalling. Continuing down the hall, a work bench coated in blood and messy utensils stood along the wall opposite of a reinforced wooden door. Examining the dull, rusty equipment, Cullen easily identified them as torture tools, and even despite their inefficient state, they were still in use. Recent use.
"You arrive."
Cullen spun around at the sound of the qunari's voice, Hordin quickly moving beside him as they approached the reinforced door. "Asehan!"
"What the hell man?! You alright?!" Hordin asked, his concern and discomfort obvious. There came a groan from the dark room. "Hold on, we'll bust the door down!"
"The key is under the table." the qunari replied, causing the two readying forces to stop.
They both turned and looked under the table, where they easily found a pair of keys on a large ring dangling from a splinter in the wood. "Huh, so it is." Hordin commented.
"Poor placement." Cullen added quietly.
The Nevarran took the keys and quickly began to work them on the door. There came an audible thud! as the lock shifted out of place, the heavy door pushed open thereafter. Both Hordin and Cullen stepped in and held their gasps at the sight of the qunari. His grey skin had been burned in many places, acid by the looks of it, and many new scars and wounds crisscrossed his chained body. His arms were stretched wide against the cold stone, baring many cuts and punctures, and an open wound seeped on his right side. His breathing was regulated, but it was obvious he was in a great deal of pain. Still, when Cullen looked into those black orbs, he saw pure hate and blood-thirst for the person responsible for his torment.
"Do you…" Hordin began, unsure on how to proceed as he tried the keys on the shackles, "Do we need to explain, what's really happening?"
"I am aware of where we are and who you are." Asehan answered firmly, "I have already lived this moment once." The shackles snapped open and he rubbed the sensitive skin on his wrists momentarily before standing. Hordin gave him aid, the qunari silently thanking him, and then his attention turned to the open door. Cullen saw a dangerous hunger in those eyes.
"You're injured." the General pointed out, trying to discourage whatever dark thought plagued him.
"No. I am not." the qunari countered, walking forward as if the open wound in his side was nothing.
Hordin followed behind him, exiting and turning down the hall. "Where are you going?"
Asehan paused in his angry stride and glanced back to the two. "It is best if you remain here."
"... You're going to kill the Lord, aren't you?" Cullen surmised, identifying that vengeful look. Asehan nodded.
"You need a sword?" Hordin offered.
"No. I wish to do this with my bare hands." And then Asehan walked away.
Cullen didn't know if he should follow, to try to stop him, or remain as suggested. If the Lord was the demon, the qunari would need their help. Reluctantly, he waited. They both did quietly, waiting for the call for assistance or for the qunari to return. The few moments did not drag as soon the sounds of a startled man, older and with a weathered voice, came from down the hall. The startle quickly turned into panic and fear, mixed with rage and struggle. They listened to the cries of the distant Lord as they heard the snap of bones and the roar of the qunari. They listened to the pleas as they were buried by furious punches and the breakage of furniture. And at last the screams were drowned by an acidic burn and gurgle. Cullen's gut turned and twisted into a knot. Even knowing that this "Lord" was no more than a demon or creature of the Fade, the sounds of its agonizing demise was sickening. And when Asehan walked back down the hall moments later, he could not bear to look at him in the eye.
Asehan stopped in front of them, his bow and tabard now in his blood drenched hands. There was a pause of silence, his eyes aimed downward almost in shame. "Now I understand why." Neither of the warriors spoke, patiently waiting for him to continue. Asehan looked to Hordin then, staring him dead in the eye, "Pray you do not find your vengeance."
"Wh-What?"
"It is a dark path. Kathryn had saved me from it." Asehan explained simply, "Pray you are saved from it as well."
Nothing more was said. In time, the three exited the mine turned torture prison and escaping with them were the wolves. No longer were the creatures hostile or ill, as their health returned the instant they tasted freedom. The pack rushed out into the open night air with energy and bounce that put deer to shame, and their calls and howls were of thanks and rejoice. Asehan watched his family return to their woodland, before his attention was drawn elsewhere. Cullen and Hordin too turned to look upon the spirit Valor still in wolf form, the once red moon replaced with a soft natural blue silhouetting the creature. Valor turned to gaze upon that full moon positioned just right at the cliff's edge and the portal opened, the rings of its glowing face swirling away.
In a snap of protest and accusation, Hordin pointed at it in frustration. "You fucking kidding me?! This place has NO LOGIC!"