Mahanon goes to Crestwood in search of Hawke's friend and to close a rift causing the dead to rise.

I skip over the conversations in this chapter that are in the game; we've all played it and know what happens. And if you haven't... well probably should watch a youtube video cause I don't really like quoting directly from the game where I can help it. Hopefully it's not too jarring.

The rain was never ending. Mahanon thought it rained a lot in the woods where his clan most often roamed but Crestwood put that rain to shame. His boots were causing blisters so he had abandoned them - much to Sera's amusement; she was now waiting to see if he walked in dung - but he couldn't abandon his clothes despite the fact they were soaking wet. He had already done that once already and the blizzard he had decided was balmy weather had nearly killed him and left him with a lingering cough that still wouldn't abate.

Nonetheless it was good to get away from Skyhold. Mahanon wasn't used to the large stone walls all around him and it was still far from pretty being in the early stages of being fixed up and made habitable. He would have much preferred them to make their home in a warm forest with aravels for shelter but, he supposed, that could hardly stand up to an army or a dragon.

Varric's friend had, in fact, turned out to be Hawke as Leliana had both suspected and feared. He had then informed Mahanon of yet another contact, a grey warden who could help them. So that's where they were now. Traipsing through the rain and fighting off any undead that they came across. Oh yeah, because that was another thing Crestwood had going for it. If the rain wasn't enough to make it a prime tourist destination the undead were sure to draw the crowds. Mahanon sighed as they dispatched yet another stinking corpse.

"We should find out what is causing the undead to rise here," Cassandra said. As expected, she had been furious to find out who Varric's friend had been. After defusing that storm, Mahanon decided it would be best if she came along with them to allow some space between the two to calm the waters.

"My guess is it's that rift over there," Mahanon said, pointing to the green glow across the other side of the lake. "I just don't know how to get there to close it."

"Swim?" Bull helpfully suggested.

"You first," Mahanon said. The glint that Bull got in his eye though suggested he took that as a challenge rather than something that was meant to be ignored. "No. Not happening."

"No fun," Bull pouted.

One thing the rain did do, Mahanon thought as he trotted along behind Bull and Cassandra, was it gave a rather, ahem, nice view of the large qunari in front of him. Realising he was blushing, he looked away and tried to reign his thoughts to more natural things. Like that stone, that was a lovely stone. Except now he was thinking of what else could be called stones.

Sera gave a snort. "I know what you're thinking about," she said in that annoying teasing song-song voice of hers.

"No," Mahanon said, hoping to stop it.

"You're-"

"No," he tried again, a little more firmly while his eyes pleaded with Sera to remain silent.

Surprisingly, she did, merely sticking her tongue out and making raspberry noises at him. Thankfully more undead decided to show themselves right then which served to make everyone forget about what Sera apparently knew and focus on dispatching them.

That evening they set up crude shelters against a rock face that blocked most of the wind and rain, though it was still cold, damp, and miserable. A merry fire helped and Mahanon had actually managed to fall asleep to begin with but was later woken by nightmares. Realistic nightmares that, for a few moments after waking, he had believed them real. Opening his eyes and seeing the fire, he scuttled away from it before he realized that there was no body in there, it was just the normal camp fire. Nonetheless, with his heart still racing, blood pounding in his ears, he had no real desire to go back to sleep just yet. Instead, he moved over to the log near the fire where Bull was sitting watch. He had his back to the fire so that the light didn't blind him, but Mahanon sat facing it.

Feeling a tap on his arm, he looked up to see Bull offering him a flask without looking at him. Mahanon took it and drank. "Strong," he commented, his voice strained as he handed it back.

Bull gave a short laugh. "Only the best. Keep it, you look like you need it."

Mahanon took it back and sat cradling it. He pulled the blanket he had dragged with him closer around him; there was a breeze blowing and with the constantly falling rain and damp clothes it made the air quite cold. He coughed and took another swig. That soothed it, in a sense. "Just a nightmare," he said dismissively. "We lost a lot of good people at Haven." He drank again. "Your chargers, they all made it through all right?"

"Yeah. My boys are tough," Bull said, his voice proud.

"Adan was tough, but that didn't allow him to survive."

"Mmm, can't say I knew him personally. He was unlucky. You need luck as well as guts to survive. The best swordsman can still be taken out by an arrow from behind."

"He wasn't unlucky. I was too slow," Mahanon said, and he drank again, deeply.

"Hey, slow down with that," Bull said. He didn't know what was in the drink but Mahanon did feel a little light headed now. Maybe he should slow down a bit. "You can't take on the deaths of every one who falls personally. Your shoulders aren't wide enough to carry all that."

"And yours are?" Mahanon snapped.

"Nope. That's why I don't. I don't know anyone who can take all that and not break. And you can't afford to break."

Mahanon sighed. "I didn't ask for a lecture."

"Then stop acting like you need one."

Mahanon glared at Bull and, deliberately, took several large gulps of the drink. Bull just smirked. "You'll regret that," he warned.

"I doubt it," Mahanon said - and he did not slur his words! - as he tossed the now empty flask back, proud that it hit the qunari on the chest. The world spun as he stood, but he managed to make it back to his bed roll in one piece and curl into his blankets to have another go at sleep.

Mahanon groaned as he stumbled away from yet another undead that he had sunk his daggers into just moments before, feeling decidedly green in a way that had nothing to do with the smell of the undead.

"I warned -"

"Don't," Mahanon cut Bull off before wandering away a little further to attempt to retch again. He hadn't eaten any breakfast and had already emptied his stomach of last night's dinner but try telling his churning gut that. Sera simply chortled while Cassandra looked concerned and Bull smug. This was not a good day. And the mayor of Crestwood Village had pushed Mahanon's limited patience to the absolute edge already. There was a way to drain the lake in order to get to the rift and close it, but it was through a keep held by bandits. All terribly convenient, Mahanon thought.

Cassandra had pointed out that, once cleared out, they could claim the keep, Caer Bronach as it was called, for the Inquisition. That would be a good reason to take it alone, Mahanon knew; with forces out this way they could respond to threats in the area that much faster.

The tree Mahanon was leaning against was at the edge of a rather large drop into a valley and movement below caught his eye. Frowning, he carefully moved along the edge of the cliff, his bare feet finding where it was safe to walk and where it wasn't in a way he was never able to do wearing shoes. "Lavellan, what are you doing?" Cassandra called out.

"I think I see something down there," he replied. Yes, there it was! "A dragon!" he shouted. Crashing behind him alerted him to Bull's approach - so now he could hear him! - and he gave a whistle spotting her down there.

"Isn't she a beauty!" he declared. "A pity she's all the way down there!"

"Maybe we can reach her after the dam is lowered," Sera said as she and Cassandra approached at a more sedate pace.

"Perhaps, though we should conclude our business here first," Mahanon said.

They left the dragon sleeping where she was for now, though seeing how excited the prospect of hunting her made both Bull and Sera, Mahanon decided that returning would definitely be a worthwhile endeavour; his friends deserved some fun after all they had gone through. Though he most definitely would not be drinking the night before!

Mahanon dodged around a bandit, dispatching him from behind while he was stunned from a shield bash by Cassandra. On the move again he moved from one enemy to the next to the next, always moving, always dodging and weaving, never staying still. Finally some of his old speed was returning and his leg only ached now after they stopped to rest. Bull and Cassandra, as the most obvious enemies on the battlefield (or as much as the courtyard of a keep could be called a battlefield) drew most of the attention while Mahanon had fun herding the enemies into tight knots where Sera pelted them with arrows laughing with delight as she did so.

They fought their way up though the keep and Mahanon couldn't stop grinning. They were unstoppable! Who had ever heard of taking a keep dug in with bandits with only four people? But it seemed the bandits had never considered it a possibility either, or they believed that their comrades would deal with it all soon enough for they offered no real resistance.

Higher and higher they climbed until they reached the battlements. It was there that they met their first real challenge of the attack. While still fighting the lackeys there, a huge roar announced the arrival of their leader.

"He's mine!" Bull shouted, charging over horns first like his namesake. Mahanon laughed and followed as backup, though he let Bull take most of the attention himself. He ghosted around behind the big brute and while Bull went head to head with him, both nearly a match for size, Mahanon's daggers flicked out here and there, causing stinging irritants that served to distract the brute, giving Bull his openings. The brute was slowing down, bleeding from a dozen small wounds, by the time Cassandra and Sera had finished mopping up and could join them and between the four of them they made short work of the bandit leader. Nonetheless they were all breathing heavily by the time he fell and all had small wounds sustained in the attack. Most were tiny, though Bull had a rather deep gash in his left pectoral.

"Here," Mahanon said, taking a cloth from his pocket and holding it to the wound to staunch the blood flow. Bull looked down surprised as he did so.

"Huh. The bastard got me." He seemed surprised by the fact and Mahanon realized he probably hadn't even felt the wound until attention was drawn to it.

"Why do you never travel with a mage? One would be useful now," Cassandra said.

"I don't really like magic," Mahanon replied. Lying - he didn't really have a problem with magic at all - but not wanting to admit that he didn't like travelling with any of the mages they had. Solas was hiding something and Mahanon had a feeling it was something significant. Plus, Mahanon's only passing interest in elven history annoyed the fade walker. To Vivienne everything was a show, everything for appearances. Mahanon generally got frustrated in trying to keep up appearances and Vivienne's nagging that he continue to do so grated on his nerves. And then there was Dorian, the Tevinter. Yeah, like he was ever going to invite someone like that to travel with them and trust him to watch his back. There were other mages in the Inquisition now, those who had not joined the Venatori, but Mahanon knew even less about them. All in all, he would rather just travel without a mage. "We don't need magic for the most part. Sera's arrows do just as good a job at covering us from a distance and if we are injured bad enough to need healing, then we'll go to the nearest town."

"And if we're all too injured to get to a town?" Cassandra asked.

"Then I doubt any mage would be in better shape," Mahanon pointed out. Cassandra merely grunted at that and moved away to check the bandits' bodies for anything useful.

Mahanon moved the cloth away but simply grunted a little when he saw more blood well and returned it.

Bull chuckled a little and took over holding it to his chest. "It's fine Boss really. Just another scar to add to my collection. Check this one out," he motioned to a half healed wound on his forearm. "I've been working on this beauty. Doesn't it look like a dragon?" Mahanon looked again. He supposed it did...

"You've been working on it?" he asked, not entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Yeah. A little pick here, a little scratch there. It's just about done I think!"

Mahanon couldn't help but smile even if it was disgusting; he sounded like an excited child. "Perhaps it's a good thing I didn't invite Vivienne along. I've heard her telling you to stop picking at it."

"What about this one?" Bull said, lifting the cloth and inspecting it closely. "I think I could turn it into a wyvern."

"I think you would be better keeping it as a snake. You would have to make it a lot worse to turn into a wyvern."

"Oh I guess."

"You are not turning that cut into any kind of animal!" Both Mahanon and Bull turned guiltily at the disgusted tone Cassandra was taking with them. "Set up camp and no more disgusting talk of picking scabs!"

Guiltily both of them left to do as they were bade, Mahanon not daring to pull rank and Bull not daring to touch his new wound.

They found the dam controls inside the keep as the mayor had said and by raising the Inquisition flag and sending word back to Skyhold, Inquisition soldiers were starting to arrive. The four of them remained in the keep until a force large enough to hold it easily arrived but they experienced no trouble; word had already spread how the Inquisitor and three of his friends had taken the keep all on their own without siege equipment or anything. Of course, having Bull around to break through any barred doors had been the same as having their own much more portable and deadly siege weapon, but Mahanon let people believe what they would about their strength; it would ensure that people would think twice about attacking them.

When he deemed the force holding Caer Bronach was sufficient without relying on rumour and exaggerated stories, Mahanon, Bull, Sera and Cassandra ventured down into the waterlogged land of Old Crestwood. The air here was humid and oppressive; it felt like some of the ancient elven grave yards Mahanon had visited on occasion, heavy with spirits. Of course he had no way of knowing whether it actually was heavy with spirits, having left behind anyone who could have told him, but in truth Mahanon didn't mind not knowing - it was easier that way.

Through their explorations they learned of the mayor's dirty secret, how he had chosen to drown all the refugees who came seeking shelter in Crestwood in order to save the residents who already lived there. Finding the rift turned out to be more difficult than Mahanon had thought since it was actually deep underground instead of just under the water as he had suspected. It was also huge and Mahanon's hand tingled just looking at it.

"Everyone ready?" Mahanon asked as the four of them stood staring at it.

Cassandra hefted her shield, holding it protectively in front of her, Sera knocked an arrow and Bull brought his axe in front of him, all letting Mahanon know wordlessly that they were ready and with him. Mahanon for his part, took both his daggers in hand and together they charged at the rift as it roared to life. Four wraiths and a rage demon. Mahanon and Sera took on the wraiths, keeping their attention while Bull and Cassandra handled the rage demon. As soon as they were all dispatched, Mahanon threw his hand out towards the rift, feeling the tearing sensation in his hand as he attempted to close it. Instead an explosion blew them all backwards and more demons spilled out. "Shit," he muttered before once more charging in to the fight.

Only three wraiths this time - quickly dispatched - but two despair demons. Mahanon hated those! He barely got two light strikes in before they zipped across the room and he was left once more charging after them. It was worse for Cassandra and Bull though who were lucky if they got one hit in. The best they could do was occupy them while Sera pelted them full of arrows.

All of them were wearying from the fight - these demons were stronger than the usual ones they had faced to date - but once more they managed to send them all back to the fade and Mahanon tried again to close the rift thinking surely this time it would work; two waves was all they had ever had to face in the past before. His hand was burning from the effort and he thought he might have finally managed it this time but an even larger explosion blew them all away once more. Mahanon grunted as he came to his feet and, holding his daggers in his other hand, shook out the hand with the mark, trying to rid the sharp pain and lingering sensation he was still experiencing.

"You ok boss?" he heard Bull call from across the wall.

"Fine. Smarts is all," he said, playing it down. It didn't really matter how tired he was or how much his hand hurt. It had hurt far worse closing the breach and just like that, this was something he had to do.

They didn't have time to say any more before the demons reappeared. Two wraiths that were dissipated nearly as soon as they appeared, two terror demons and a pride demon. Mahanon almost despaired himself seeing those. Cassandra attempted to keep the pride demon's attention, matching raw power with shield and heavy armour, while Bull took one terror demon and Mahanon the other, Sera providing ranged attacks where she saw she was most needed. The terror demon kept knocking Mahanon to the ground such that he had trouble even wounding it. He would get three, maybe for strikes in, then be knocked down. Part of him realised he was going to be stiff and sore tomorrow but it was only a brief passing thought, quickly forgotten and replaced by staying alive. Bull dispatched his demon and came over to assist Mahanon, allowing the elf to maneuver to where he worked best, from behind and the flanks. Together they finished it off and turned to help Cassandra end the pride demon.

"Fucking close already!" Mahanon swore as he threw his hand towards the rift once more. He gritted his teeth as the pain spread up his arm but finally he felt the rift responding. As he felt the thread between his hand and the rift tighten, he clenched his other hand and yanked backwards with all his strength almost forcing the rift closed physically. It left him panting on one knee on the ground, his throbbing hand cradled to his chest. A coughing fit took him brought about by sheer exhaustion.

"Here." Mahanon looked up to see Sera handing him a flask and he took it, taking a swig. The water was warm and tasted of the leather container it was kept in, but it was wet and it soothed his throat.

"Thank you," he said, handing it back.

"Are you alright?" Cassandra asked him.

Mahanon folded his feet beneath him to sit on the ground rather than kneel. "I'm fine. It always hurts a bit closing rifts but that one was especially nasty." He studied his hand but saw nothing that looked unusual or gave any physical outward sign of what he felt. He sighed and stood. "I'm fine. It's done. Let's go confront the mayor."

And the mayor was missing. Of course. Because him sticking around to be called out on what he had done would be far too convenient for the Inquisition. Mahanon sighed and kicked a rock at the house.

"Forget about him. Leliana will be able to track him down, I'm sure," Cassandra said.

Mahanon didn't doubt it, but it was kind of beside the point. It would be nice for something to go smoothly for a change. "At least it stopped raining," he said. "Will make it easier to go traipsing across the countryside to find Hawke and his warden friend."

"See? Always a plus side," Sera said, and Mahanon couldn't help but smile. Josephine had cautioned him on how wise it might be to rely on Sera as a companion when he left Skyhold but it was for reasons like this that he did: she made him smile. That and her somewhat unique way of viewing the world was a refreshing change. It was nice, and nice was in short supply so Mahanon held on to it where he could get it.