The coastline of the Waking Sea was not the most hospitable place in all of Thedas, although it could be easily argued that it was not the worst place either. At least the coast afforded a nice view of the sea and the hills were rather nice too.

Today, however, the coast was a terrible place to be. A storm had rolled through overnight and had been pounding the coast since then. When it wasn't pouring rain, it was drizzling. In the moment Maxwell Trevelyan stepped out of his tent into the steady drizzle he decided that any arguments against the coast being the worst place ever would not be strong enough.

"Ser?"

The mage rolled grey-blue eyes. He had unfortunately been given an escort from the now defunct Circle at Ostwick as he made his way home. Said escort consisted of five overly attentive guards who wouldn't let him take a piss without escort…Speaking of. He eyed the guard who had the unfortunate task of keeping watch on their soggy camp. He was young, although Maxwell didn't find himself caring, and just over the light of good looking from average.

"I need to piss, Cooper." Maxwell told him blandly. "Or do I need permission?"

Cooper fumbled briefly. So maybe he was younger than Maxwell thought. "No ser. Of course not, ser. Just, uh…Don't wander too far, ser."

Maybe if he rolled his eyes hard enough they would roll away. Maxwell snorted to himself at the thought. He waved a ringed hand at the man before doing just that: wandering too far. He had been cooped up in his tent, which was thankfully free of guards, all day. With no entertainment beyond a few books he'd been able to snatch from the Circle before its fall, he had no entertainment.

He walked along the coast, just out of reach of the surf, until he was just out of the view of the camp. He really did need to make water, but mostly he needed to get away. The idea of returning home after so many years in the Circle was both exciting and terrifying. It had been what? Almost twenty years. He sighed grumpily at this thought.

"I'm so fucking old." Maxwell grumbled to himself. He started to fiddle with his robes so he could do his business when he noticed a large, dark shape moving farther down the coastline.

Maxwell realized as he headed toward the shape that it was probably not the best idea to approach a big dark thing in the middle of a storm on a coast he knew little about. Being locked away in a Circle sometimes did crazy things to your head…Or maybe the old adage about curiosity killing the nug was true.


Maxwell's curiosity turned from simple interest to mild panic as he realized the shape was not that of some misshaped bear or ram, but of a very large man…Sort of?

The creature was massive in both height and width, at least compared to that of a human. Grey skin was smeared with grime and what must have been blood. Dark, heavy horns jutted from its forehead first out and then straight up, adding at least six inches to the beasts height. The creature's long white hair was caked in mud and blood and Maker knows what else. It wore only tattered black pants and no shirt. Its feet were bootless and grimy with gashes from the sharp rock surrounding them.

It was not the grime and much that caused Maxwell to utter a quiet "fuck." No it was the creature's face. Someone had been so cruel as to sew its mouth shut just loosely enough that it could drink from the sea with massive hands shoveling salty water into its face.

Once he was within a dozen or so paces from the creature it turned, yellow eyes boring into the mage. It looked tired and scared and pleaded for help without making so much as a sound. Maxwell took a step back, almost running back to camp. A Qunari, he realized. He had heard the stories of what Qunari did to their mages and he felt irrational fear. This Qunari was barely able to stand it seemed and he was injured.

Maxwell raised his hands as if to show he was unarmed and slowly approached. "Don't worry." He spoke as if the giant beast before him was a wounded little deer. "I'm going to help you. Just let me help you."


Maxwell had never seen anything like this in all of his time studying magic. The Qunari before him only gave a low moan as the human ran his fingers over the crude stitches binding his mouth. The Qunari only gave a low moan of pain, yellow eyes scrunching shut. The stitches seemed to be made of some simple thread, but he could feel the dull hum of magic under his fingertips. It was no wonder the man before him didn't simply cut them away.

He would never consider himself a gentle or particularly compassionate man. He had little in the way of healing training, but what he knew would have to do. "I don't know if this will hurt." It was a lie but he felt the need to comfort the broken creature before him. The stitches were hasty, red, and swollen with infection and irritation from the saltwater. "But I'm going to help you."

Fingertips carefully traced over the stitches once, twice, and on the third pass he focused a small amount of magic into his fingertips. The threads cut away easily and as the last one fell the Qunari gave a pain scream not unlike that of a dying animal. Maxwell jumped back, worried he might be attacked, but the beast only gave a low sob, vomiting saltwater and bile before slumping forward.

"Fuck." Maxwell swore before quickly standing. "Cooper! Cooper get the fuck over here!" He wasn't even sure the guard could hear him as he ran back toward camp.