Misdirection

By Kaimaler.

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K.E.R.P:
Why thank you! Everyone went the smartass route with Hawke; everyone. So I just continued this theme and made Hawke react in the way any player would want.

We'll be facing more and more troubles concerning her being Archmage in the future. Right now, however, they'll just scratch the top of the mage life in Cyrodill. As we progress, we'll see them comparing mages in both lands. As I said though, it's not much right now.

The life of an Imperial Citizen will, of course, shock them. For now, though, we must acquaint our characters with each other. :)
Thanks for reviewing and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

They were arriving just outside the city walls, S'aravi looked towards the cliffside, where ships of all kinds docked. This city was massive, much larger then the Imperial City in Cyrodiil.

The giant walls and statues made the city seem less of an actual city though and more of a home for slavers. The weeping bronze statues of warriors overlooking starving people worried S'aravi; she'd rather die then be a part of the slave trade.

"S'aravi." Hawke called to her from up ahead. After she regained her strength, S'aravi was able to stand without trouble and insisted she do so. "Keep your head down; we don't want to draw attention to ourselves."

Anders nodded, "And do something about your tail; Varric can't keep his eyes off of it." Aveline sighed, looking to Varric. "Hey, I'm just worried it'll hit me!" He was standing to the side of S'aravi as he had been the entire trip.

"Then move out of the way." Aveline smirked, "It's not that easy, the damn thing follows me wherever I go!"

S'aravi turned her head to the dwarf, pulling her tail under the cloak stolen from the deal slaver. "There, better?"

"Yes, thank you." Varric brushed of fur. "Now how do we get you in the city without anyone... uh, seeing you?"

Hawke stepped up to S'aravi, when she looked back to him, she nearly jumped. "You're a giant talking cat, you have a snout." Hawke glared ruefully at her muzzle, "The cloak's hood can cover it, but only if you're careful and hold it down."

Staring back to Hawke, whose eyes were still fixed on her long nose, grabbed the hood and pulled it down. "I can do that, but I have fur covering my entire body not to mention claws; someone will notice my hand holding the hood."

"True." Hawke went straight for his pack; the very same S'aravi noticed that he dispatched food from on the journey back. "Here, I have some gloves; I don't know if they'll fit though."

He held out a pair of black leather gloves, they looked a little big for her, but it was necessary. "My thanks." S'aravi was right; they were too big. They bagged slightly, though it would work.

"Okay, just stick close and watch for thugs. Varric; you know where this guy is so you lead the way."

Nodding, the dwarf enjoyed the change for once; leading Hawke was an achievement.

As they walked through the city, the sun was setting just above the walls; S'aravi felt the open land close on her. It was an enclosure; a place meant to keep those a part of the city inside of it. The giant stone walls served as homes instead of the usual decorative structures of the Imperial City.

With tiled ground, empty streets, and the threat of unseen assailants; S'aravi thought this place even worse.

In the Imperial City all guards served the Empire and its people; not those with more coin then the next. Guards were supplied with a home, food, and had the freedom to have a family.

Here, in this city, it seemed that the guards couldn't care less.

Ever since they entered the city, S'aravi hadn't seen a single guard. If they didn't guard at night and thugs ruled the streets; what kind of poor guardsmen could they be at day?

"Where are the guards?"

Hawke glanced to her, "What do you mean? They're on patrol."

S'aravi shook her hands in front of her, to single the misunderstanding. "I mean why are they not at their posts?

"They're on patrol, S'aravi." Aveline interrupted, "I know their routes, there's a patrol that will come down this way later; but they should be on the opposite side of Hightown right now."

"This city must be low on guards. If I was eligible, I would look to join them." S'aravi remembered Imperial guards patrolling every road even outside the Imperial City. Inside of it though there were dozens of guards patrolling, at posts located by gates or buildings. S'aravi couldn't go five minutes without saluting a guardsman.

"Kirkwall has enough guards; they're all doing their job." Aveline continued to fight in their defense, S'aravi felt it best not to pursue the topic with her.

Hawke snickered, "She is a guard, S'aravi. On her hours off she joins us."

"What about your city, S'aravi? How many guards are there?" Aveline wanted to protect the Kirkwall guards' reputation. What was left of it anyhow.

"If I even attempted to avoid the guards I would only run into more." S'aravi smiled, "The Imperial Empire ensures that all of its people live peacefully. Of course, crime rates exist but the punishment for a guard who accepts bribes or turns a blind eye is a traitor's death. It is unacceptable if a guardsman turns on his country."

"That's a little... extreme, isn't it?" Hawke cringed, "Not really. Guards are guards, if they fail at their job either the offender was a necromancer, the Gray Fox, or they are put into questioning."

"So you have trouble with necromancers to?" Anders asked, completely changing the subject; he was aware of this and knew Aveline well enough to know she'd defend her fellow guards until they break into a fight.

"Kind of." S'aravi shrugged. "It was made into forbidden magic after the last Archmage made it so. It isn't anymore though; necromancers are allowed to study at the University like any other mage now."

"See, this is where I get confused." Hawke ran a hand through his hair, "Mages aren't kept in this University?"

S'aravi looked to Anders, "He isn't locked up. If this is such a problem, why is Anders here?"

"I escaped, multiple times in fact." Anders smirked, "Some aren't so lucky as I am though... And wait, what do you mean by necromancy isn't forbidden anymore?"

"I changed the law."

Hawke blinked, staring wide eyed at S'aravi then to Anders, who was throwing S'aravi a confused expression. She didn't seem bothered, if she even noticed them. "I became Archmage after my predecessor sacrificed himself so I could fight a very powerful necromancer named Mannimarco."

"How would his death help you?" Anders was thinking over that; nothing seemed to make sense.

"He trapped himself in a colossal black soul gem so when I fought Mannimarco I would use the soul gem and give myself an advantage over him." S'aravi smiled contently, "His name was Hannibal Traven. He hated any form of necromancy. While I agree with his outlook, I've removed most of the strict laws he placed. Necromancy is now allowed to be studied without being called a criminal."

"Necromancy is dangerous though; it could hurt a lot of people." Hawke sent a worried look to Anders; he was very active on the Free Mages rebellion.

"Of course, just like conjuration and destruction magic, but those aren't forbidden."

Anders allowed himself a smug smirk. Finally someone who understood; after all this time, he wasn't sure anybody could anymore. Practicing how to make a firestorm more effective or a lightning bolt more deadly was the same as the forbidden magics.

That didn't mean he wanted those forbidden also.

"That isn't the same thing." Hawke's comment shattered Anders thoughts. "If someone summoned a demon it would destroy everything in its path against the will of the mage! You cannot compare one to the other."

Anders frowned, he gave Hawke that one. Yet there were so many arguments against that. Is Hawke more dangerous then a mage? Anders was sure he was; and if Hawke was a mage... The damage he could do if he dealt with a demon would be catastrophic. Hawke is powerful enough as it is with a giant sword attached to his back.

Then, bypassing all of Anders expectations for their new furry companion, she said exactly what he thought he'd never hear another person say in all his life.

"If a warrior goes to the tavern to relax and drinks himself into a stupor; when angered, isn't that great warrior just as deadly as necromancy?" S'aravi shrugged, "Or say a loved one dies and he slips into a blood rage; does this make him a monster or just another person who has more strength then others?"

Hawke looked drearily to Anders, the knowing look he sent Anders made him smile. "It isn't the same though. That dangerous warrior can be corrected; punished for his wrong doings, whereas a mage possessed by a demon cannot."

"Is death not the ultimate price?"

Anders blinked and Hawke was silenced. Aveline stayed out of the conversation; hearing enough out of Anders as it was and Varric was never interested in the affairs of Templars and mages.

This time, even they shared in Hawke's silent defeat.

S'aravi was right and she knew it. Even if this talk of demons possessing mages was very strange to her, as it didn't happen but on extremely rare occasions. Perhaps mages learned to block these demons out after generations? Maybe the Imperial Empire was simply and Empire built by mages?

She knew her home; there wasn't a mage that could be questioned just because he or she was a mage.

This conversation had ended for now, but she knew it would reappear in the future if she stayed around Hawke and his companions. Mages seemed to be a focal point in Kirkwall.

S'aravi was concerned about the bronze statues that decorated all of Kirkwall. They seemed to imply the depression of this city.

Not something she wanted to think about. S'aravi was stuck here, this much she knew, and it would take a long time to return home. In order to survive and find a ship home; she'd have to live here in Kirkwall, know the people; befriending Hawke was the best idea. He was the only person who looked like he knew what he was doing.

They passed through these higher streets of tile and statues to a much darker district.

Dirt and grime began appearing on the walls, no longer was the ground covered in treated stone, but bare and felt like soft dirt under her feet.

Descending down a large flight of stairs, S'aravi was met with a strong gust of wind carrying the familiar scent of ocean water. They were at the docks of Kirkwall; Varric was now trying to tell the specific warehouse apart the many others near.

After a few moments, S'aravi heard Varric gasp in achievement. "Here we are." He had led them to an old warehouse at the docks, he had told them that he knew someone who could help them remove the Tevinter collar and S'aravi found herself begging inwardly that this man could do so.

The heavy metal cut into her skin, bruising her collar bone and neck. The discomfort was nothing compared to the sheer weight of this iron shackle that forced her to constantly adjust her posture. Too far straight and it rested on bone, too far forward and it threatened to drag her to the ground, to far backwards and she would loose balance. Nothing she did could offer her solace from the contraption.

S'aravi was shocked out of her attempts to position the collar more comfortably when Hawke stepped in front of her. "Hold on a second. I don't want to sound crude or anything, but you're not exactly an elf."

Blinking unsurely, S'aravi agreed. "No, I do not believe I am. Why?"

"There are no... talking cats here. If we approach this guy and tell him all about Tamriel and Cyodell; it'll raise some brows." Hawke suggested, earning a tired look from S'aravi. "It's Cyrodiil."

"Yeah, that place." He pointed to her with an apologetic smile, "Any ideas? We can't scare this guy off and, honestly, anyone would be terrified of a giant speaking cat. We haven't seen any backlash yet 'cause you're wearing a cloak and hood, but... It could easily escalate into something I really don't want to deal with."

"Good point." Varric rubbed his chin, "He doesn't like elves as it is, a talking cat wouldn't be any different."

"I'm a Khajiit." S'aravi corrected, her statement going unheard.

"Then we tell him exactly what the slaver told us; she's an exotic creature from a far away land." Anders shrugged, "She's your pet and you need a collar off."

"That's one epic collar, Anders." Hawke said matter-of-factly, sending the mage a questionable look. Reluctantly, Hawke sighed in defeat. "It'll have to do, I mean, what other choice do we have? Introduce a new race to Thedas? I'm sure that'll just blow over." He remarked sarcastically.

With an amused huff from Varric, he continued. "Yeah, about as much as the Blight did."

"Alright, S'aravi's my pet; she'd got some kind of extreme collar that needs to be removed." Hawke looked worriedly over to S'aravi, "I guess that could work. I'd believe it."

"Because Hawke, you're as gullible as the Dalish." Varric snickered, "He asks, go with the pet thing, after that, I'll tell him to shut up."

With a contented huff, Hawke nodded. "That'll do."

S'aravi wanted this collar off more then she wanted to keep what little dignity she had. Apparently nude Khajiit's weren't common in Kirkwall.

Her fur was a mess, covered in dirt and blood, patches had been torn out not only because of the cuffs and collar, but due to the struggle she had with the slavers. Lack of nutrition had made her loose strength and her usual fearsome attitude to criminals.

She was as dangerous as a timber wolf; if someone wanted her hide to warm them while they slept, it wouldn't be a challenge.

Hawke entered first, with his companions and their freed slave in tow. Hawke kept S'aravi close as they delved deeper into the building while Varric searched around for his contact's signature workspace.

It wasn't until they reached the main room did they find their smithy.

"Varric, why am I not surprised?" The blacksmith sighed; he carried a hammer on his shoulder, wore thick leather overalls, and had all forms of grease over him. As messy as he was about his workspace though; he made fine tools.

"Now, don't be like that." Varric grinned, "I have a little... favor to ask you. You owe me, Alend, remember that."

"Yeah, I know." His hammer fell off his shoulder, leaning on his leg. "What is it this time?"

Hawke stepped up, "It's for my friend here." S'aravi joined beside him. "There was a mix up with a few slavers and... this is what happened."

S'aravi glanced to Hawke, her hood and cloak still on as she decided that Hawke must've sacrificed skill in lying for talent with steel. She wouldn't say a thing; after all, she was supposed to be playing an exotic animal who Hawke owned as his pet.

Ignoring her pride which reared its head ferociously, S'aravi allowed Hawke to reveal her to the smithy.

It was difficult trying to quiet her ego. It had built sometime after Martin announced that she saved him to the Blades and after saving Bruma, earning a statue of her inside the city. Ego had become her strong suit if nothing else right up until Dagon.

Wincing, S'aravi reminded herself not to think of such things. Martin once said her emotions played openly on her face; she couldn't hide what she was feeling if she wanted to.

"What the hell is that thing?" The smithy stayed back, but squinted as if to see beneath her fur.

If it was hard to tame her pride beforehand, then it just became near impossible. She suppressed a telltale growl and perhaps a long string of explicit words indicating this man's ignorance and close mindedness.

Yet she resolved, she had a very short temper that became apparent to her after failing her first mission given to her by the Brotherhood.

"This is a Kahgit." Hawke smiled wirily, sending an apologetic look to S'aravi before continuing. She couldn't correct him here, not when this smithy was her only hope of getting this collar off of her. "A very rare creature from the East! I'm something of a collector of exotic animals."

"Exotic, eh?" The smithy seemed to have the right amount of idiocy to believe Hawke's attempt at acting (which would be considered an insult to the entertainment committee) and enough brains to succeed at metal working. "Then why does it stand up like a human?"

That was more of an accusation then a question. The smithy turned to Hawke with a stoic glare; even S'aravi admitted she hadn't seen such a still expression. It was like he expected nothing and yet everything.

"Alend, just remove the shackles." Varric smirked, "Hawke will even pay you."

Alend, the smithy, snorted. "I wanna' know how expensive this thing is before I tear those iron's off. If it's worth my best tools or if I can scratch it up a little."

Hawke shook his head, "No! Do your best, there's one sovereign and thirty silver in it for you."

"Two and fifty silver." The smithy replied quickly, Hawke felt like he was in to position to bargain; he was dealing with another person's life here. If S'aravi couldn't be free of those shackles... who knows what trouble they'd cause her. Not only inconvenience, but Hawke knew they must've been painful. The Tevinter slavers didn't skimp on the safety of their own skins when dealing with such a strange creature.

As a child, Hawke was taught that if someone were to ever try to rob him, his coin wasn't worth his life. That silver or gold, no coin could equal up to someone's life; S'aravi was no exception just because she wasn't what would be considered normal in Thedas.

"Fine, you have a deal." Hawke released a lung full of air, "Just make sure you can get it off her."

"Yeah, I'll get it off." The smithy nodded, turning back to S'aravi. "Come with me, mutt."

S'aravi nodded her thanks indiscreetly to Hawke and he returned it with a polite wave. Being led away by the smithy, S'aravi was taken into a room full of tools and unused metals.

Hawke waited patiently outside with his friends, listening to the sound of metal grinding against metal that emitted from the adjacent room. S'aravi would be completely free of her chains and time with the slavers. That made the two sovereigns and fifty silver worth it.

"What is bothering you Hawke?" Aveline was leaning against a wall, next to where Anders had taken a seat on a crate and Varric fiddled with Bianca; probably trying to wipe off any dirt that attached itself to his beloved crossbow.

"Why would you say something was bothering me?" Hawke asked, giving Aveline a reassuring smile.

Varric chuckled, "Perhaps it is because you have been pacing ever since Alend took S'aravi into the other room."

With a lazy shrug, Hawke glanced back to the closed door. "Oh, I'm just thinking about the many terrible things she could be doing to him behind those walls. She does possess some sharp teeth and claws, mind you, I don't think she'd let him off that easily with those remarks he gave her."

"You don't know anything about her." Anders looked drearily to Hawke, "Do we even trust her?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Hawke said nonchalantly, "It doesn't matter. She was going to be a slave; I'm sure she went through hell just to get here. I don't care if she's evil, right now all that matters is freeing her, healing her wounds, and clothing her."

"She needs clothes." Varric shivered, "I don't care if she is a giant cat covered in fur; walking around naked must feel weird."

"Given." Hawke laughed, "Once she comes out, we can see about getting her some clothes. I would ask you, Anders, if you could heal her wounds. They looked bad when I saw them."

"They are." Anders remembered spotting the jagged cuts along her abdomen and back. A few other cuts decorated her fur like the stripes that came natural to her furry specie; but nothing as eye catching as those two large open wounds. "Nothing I can't take care of though."

Anders vaguely remembered looking at the collar around her neck, it was heavy and without a single pin. It was like it was all one single piece of metal that had been molded onto her neck.

A loud metal clank stunned Hawke and his companions out of the conversation, he expected to hear something from S'aravi, but nothing else came. A few quieter sounds, metal meeting metal slowly and the sound of an extremely hot metal item being dunked into cool water; creating a loud whistling sound until Hawke was sure nothing had gone wrong.

"I sure hope this doesn't take long." Hawke crossed his arms, "Those shackles didn't look too hard to get off."

Anders pointed to his neck, making a circular motion. "But that collar looked like more. The shackles on her ankles and wrists had a metal pin holding them in place, but didn't you get a close look at the collar? It was just a thick slab of metal, no lines whatsoever. I was like it was molded that way."

"Magic you mean." Hawke smirked, "Do you believe that those Tevinter slavers used magic to detain her?"

"It is a possibility. I... didn't try to take a closer look at it. I just realized it myself."

Hawke hadn't taken a closer examination of her shackles, he was still too shocked by her race to try and form a coherent thought. Then when she told them she was a mage? That didn't help.

"Does it matter?" Varric interrupted them, "It's metal which ever way you look at it and a blacksmith is really good with metal." He snickered, earning a slightly amused look from Hawke and an annoyed one from Anders.

"It does matter, Varric." The mage argued, "If it was magically welded that it could be magically secured. If that is the case, then no smithy could crack it. It would require a mage or someone who knows how to dispel magic."

"Then you can do it." The dwarf hooked Bianca onto his back, "You've dispelled magic before; I've seen you do it when we fought those blood mages!"

"The Tevinter's know more about magic and the Fade then anyone. If I know a strong enough spell to remove the collar then I could do so; I'm just not so sure I know how to affect Tevinter magic. It's very powerful and not hindered by the laws against blood magic." Anders had talent in many fields of magic. The Tevinter Imperium knew more then all other lands combined.

"Blood magic." Hawke gave Anders a worried look, "If that collar is welded by blood magic, I will not ask you to remove it Anders."

The mage gave Hawke an appreciative smile before Aveline stopped their arguments.

"You are all assuming that the collar is welded by magic; maybe it's just a basic iron shackle like the ones around her wrists." Aveline picked up a metal hammer, "It could just be another old metal restraint like any other."

"That is right Aveline," Hawke sighed in relief, "See Anders? You were getting worked up over nothing."

Anders stared blankly to Hawke, "Wait, what? I was worried? Hawke you were-" Varric barked in laughter, "Leave it Blondie, Hawke's just venting... In his own way." Anders caved, surrendering Hawke's accusation that Anders was concerned and Hawke wasn't.

The Lothering refugee was a hard headed bastard, Anders always thought of him as such. Hawke would never give up a fight or pass an opportunity to aid a distressed citizen. Or noble who had enough money to buy Hawke; so long as the latter didn't involve the former.

Loud clanking could be heard from the other room and the cursing of one particularly pissed off blacksmith.

The door swung open, slamming into the wall as Alend stormed out of the room, S'aravi leaning on the door frame.

The massive collar still around her neck while the shackles on her wrists and ankles were gone. Hawke felt his eyes roll back in pain, Anders' was right. Tevinter slavers would never let such a valuable slave be bound by chains alone. It just wasn't enough for them to cause misery to anyone forced into servitude.

They had to practically glue those forsaken chains on before they felt the slave was in enough depression.

"Who the hell stuck that bloody thing around its neck?" The smithy demanded, "It won't melt, or dent, or crack. It's tougher then a dragon's hide! It's riddled with lyrium!"

The group was still, stunned from the revelation. Lyrium? Anders had more knowledge on it then anyone here, he knew that lacing any item with lyrium would be dangerous if it contacted skin and to remove it? Much, much harder then they originally thought.

"Eh, yes. Thank you Alend, was it?" Hawke stepped forward, taking out the coin, "Your payment is in order, we will be going now. Come on S'aravi." The companions were ushered out of the way of the angered smithy.

"Yeah, yeah. Just get that thing outta' my sight!" Alend cursed, "It was giving me the evil eye."

Hawke chuckled lowly, urging S'aravi out the door.

As the group dodged the enraged blacksmith, Varric burst out laughing. "He sounded like someone just spit in his soup."

"He attempted everything at his disposal, Hawke." S'aravi's considerably different voice stopped the companions. "He was right though, it would not react to anything he did. He even burned me in his frustration to get it off. He is a very dedicated blacksmith."

"Alend? Dedicated?" Varric huffed, "Nah, he's just mad that you'll have to go find someone better then him. That's what is eating him up."

"I should've paid him less for it then; he didn't get the collar off after all." Hawke grimaced; he needed to spend his coin more wisely. He still needed those fifty sovereigns to get him into the Deep Roads.

"If it's magic, then maybe I could do something about it." Anders offered, exactly what they had discussed earlier. He wasn't sure if he could, but he'd try anyways.

Aveline nodded, "Perhaps, Hawke, it's time to send her to Anders clinic? She needs to be healed before anything else."

Hawke inclined his head to the wounds that had barely healed on S'aravi's body. Just before she pulled her cloak on and tied it around her. She smirked to Hawke; allow him to decide her fate with or without the collar.

"I can take care of those without a problem; it's the collar I'm concerned about." Anders pointed out, "We're all concerned about the collar, Anders." Hawke was tempted to touch the cold metal around S'aravi's neck, to get a feel for what metal it was. Iron? Probably, but if laced with lyrium it could be just about anything.

"To Anders clinic then, I'm sure S'aravi would prefer breathing without pain." S'aravi sighed quietly, allowing this group of strangers to decide her fate.

It wasn't easy, now that she thought about it. Hawke, Anders, Aveline, and Varric were all strange people to her. With extreme views on magic and the mages who practice it, the guards (or lack thereof) who patrol in the shadows; away from danger apparently.

These people could be horrible adventurers who were trying to help her based on how much gold they could make afterwards.

If that was true, they wouldn't try so hard to find out how to remove her collar. They hadn't even asked for a reward... yet.

Or, if they did ask for one eventually, and they were good folk who stuck their neck out for a random person. She didn't want to lead them on, she had claimed of her position as Archmage and about her home land. Perhaps that was enough for them to assume she had coin with her?

She didn't. At all in fact, all of her supplies were left in Cyrodiil, or looted by the slavers. If Hawke expected payment for his actions, then he'd be disappointed.

In any other case, she'd be more the happy to reward someone for saving her and though no one aside from Martin had ever saved her life.

Everything that has happened was more then enough for S'aravi to feel like, had Hawke and his motley band of do-gooders not come alone, she would be dead. Slavery was not an option; she'd either fight to the death or give the slavers a reason to kill her.

Looking back, she was broken spirited enough to feel that slavery may not have been so bad.

Feeling an unpleasant growl, she calmed herself. It was only due to Maethel's death combined with S'aravi's injuries that weakened her resolve.

As she thought, S'aravi wouldn't allow Hawke to help her if he expected a reward for she had none to give anymore. In Cyrodiil, S'aravi would've awarded him a house, land, perhaps even a title. He'd be a person of interest in whatever land he did so choose to remain.

This was not the case.

"Hawke," S'aravi stopped him, earning the attention of the entire group. "I am thankful, I assure you I am; but I will not take advantage of your kindness."

"Wait, what do you mean? You're not taking advantage of anything." Hawke was a little more then alarmed at S'aravi's statement. She sounded like she was bidding them farewell.

In a city that has never heard nor seen a beast race, S'aravi's wandering around by herself would be a very bad idea.

"I cannot award you for your efforts and I will not allow you to assume that I do have the funds to do so." S'aravi explained, "Back home, had you saved me there, I could've given you much in return for my safety as would the High Chancellor. I am a person of great importance in Cyrodiil; my life may mean theirs as well."

Aveline shook her head, clearing up this situation between S'aravi and Hawke.

"She means, Hawke, that she can't repay you. She doesn't have a coin to her name in Kirkwall." The red haired guardswoman grinned gratefully to S'aravi. "But she doesn't need to worry, does she Hawke?"

"Coin? As payback?" The warrior ran a hand through his hair, "It's not all that important. I can get coin from helping random people around Kirkwall; I don't expect you to pay me S'aravi, I hope that we can get you out of Kirkwall back to your home."

"And you would do all this for a stranger? Not only a stranger, but a creature you have not seen before?"

Biting his lip, Hawke glanced S'aravi over. "I'll admit your... appearance is very, very different. Still, that doesn't mean I would just leave you in a foreign city to fend for yourself. I've freed slaves before and captured dozens of criminals; I have time to help out someone in dire need."

"I am in dire need, that much I will submit to." S'aravi could feel the dull throbbing of her wounds still; even though she had been attempting to heal them as she gained strength back. "If you do not expect so much of me, then why do you aid me?"

"Because... it's the right thing to do." S'aravi had the distinct impression that this came naturally to him. His demeanor when he answered her was phrased like he had thought she knew of such things. It was far rarer to find a man with so noble goals then one who'd want coin for his actions.

Kirkwall was turning out not to be so bad.

"Then, as my honor dictates, I must repay you in one fashion or another." S'aravi took her places as Champion very seriously. Regardless of what land she may find herself in, or what company she has voice in; a Champion always paid their debts.

"We can think about this after Anders' patches you up." Hawke rested a firm hand on S'aravi's shoulder. It was bruised, so the tight grip hurt, but she didn't speak up. Only winced as he shook her shoulder roughly. "Come on, friend."

It was a pleasant surprise, but it wasn't one S'aravi would squander.

Following Hawke, it was time to heal her old wounds and afterwards, she could reclaim a piece of the dignity she had lost while she traveled without clothes.

She'd pay her debt in kind; as her life had been taken by the slavers, it is now in the hands of her savior. In order to take back what was once rightfully hers, she would make Hawke respect her as a warrior, mage, and Champion.

A life-debt can only be paid with a life.

Hey whoa! Beware! My Wordpress spellcheck is on the fritz! Give me a heads up if there's a few misspelled/typo'd words here or there. I'll fix them! :D