Chapter 70: A Worthy Rival

The Qunari view other nations as inferiors, kabethari (literally, "those who need to be taught") who are to be conquered and "enlightened", i.e. converted to the Qun. In the newly subdued areas they dismantle families: children are torn away from their parents and raised as Qunari, while adults are sent to "learning" (labor) camps for re-education performed by a branch of the priesthood called the Ben-Hassrath. The latter appear to be reasonable if an individual doesn't resist their severe teachings, and a new convert, or viddathari, may take a high position in the Qunari society.

In fact, it is possible for a human, elven or dwarven viddathari to become Ariqun, Arigena or Arishok should they show the merit for the role. However, this is naturally less likely than a qunari taking the role, given their far greater numbers in the Qun. Refusal to cooperate is seen as illness to be cured, and those who resist are taken to the viddathlok, temples dedicated to healing. What happens later is not quite clear, but it is known that the Qunari use a substance called qamek to turn them into mindless laborers forced into indentured servitude or sent to mines or construction camps. Some would return, changed in profound ways, some would perish of exhaustion or starvation and some would be slain.

When the Qunari were pushed back during the Exalted Marches, the Chantry and nationalist forces purged numerous Qunari converts and buried them in mass graves, most notably in Rivain, Nocen Fields, and Marnas Pell in Tevinter. Afterwards the existence of the purge has been officially denied to have ever happened.

The Qunari call outsiders bas ("thing") and consider them unfortunate beings who, however, have a potential to grow if the Qun's wisdom is imparted to them. The best an outsider can hope for amongst the Qunari is to be considered a basalit-an, "worthy of respect"; a basalit-an is a worthy foe, and one that can be negotiated with to an extent, but still bas regardless.-From Examinations of the Qunari: A Tevinter Insight by Julian Luzi, Scholar for the Academia of Minrathous

Viscount's Keep-Throne Room

The Arishok swung his axes swiftly with the rogue just barely able to dodge the blows. Soon Ericks found himself with back against the wall. "Think fast, Ericks…" he muttered to himself.

The rogue kicked of the wall and kneed the Arishok to the face briefly stunning the large qunari. "Got him!" Ericks turned his blade downwards, aiming for the neck. The Arishok quickly recovers, grabs his arm and slams him to the ground hard. The rogue swore he could feel a few ribs fracture from the force. Erick then saw the Arishok about to slam his axe down on him.

"ERICKS!" All anyone could see and hear was a cloud of dust and the sound of metal crushing the ground. When the dust cleared, the gang saw Ericks was safe but his right arm was covered in frost. The Arishok's axe and body was also covered in frost, the qunari shook loose the ice and looked at the rogue.

"Very impressive, Hawke. You detonated your grenade point-blank just to stop my attack" The Arishok said almost impressed. "But very risky, one wrong move and you would have killed yourself"

"True, but I have faith in my Arcanist's work" Sandal when he was bored at the estate liked to enchant every single thing in the house, this caused no end of chaos at the estate when living day to day. Bodhan and Orana often had reprimand the young dwarf for tampering with things but this time Ericks for Sandal's boredom.

"Interesting, I will have to look into this Arcanist when this is all done" the qunari said. "He will make a good addition to the Qun" The Arishok charged and Ericks rolled out of the way, the rogue noticed the Arishok wasn't as fast as before. Despite shaking off the ice, the qunari still felt the effects of the frost grenade. The islands of Par Vollen and Seheron were tropical nations in the Boeric Ocean in the north; the qunari was not used to the colder climate in the south. This gave Ericks an idea on how to end this fight sooner. Ericks threw a smoke grenade at the Arishok and fell back; he then took out a small vial with a thick, frosty liquid and pour it on his blades.

Ice started to form on his daggers. The Arishok quickly came from the side, Ericks ducked under the blades. He struck the qunari's side, it felt like he was striking a wall made of steel but he managed to get a cut in. The Arishok staggered and held his side as ice started to form inside his wound. The vitaar protected the qunari from outside attacks but once inside the war paint was practically useless. Ericks went in before the Arishok could recover and went slashing, each time making his wounds fill with ice shards. The qunari leader slammed his weapons down on Ericks but he dodged to side and retaliated with a well-placed blow to the throat from the hilt of his dagger.

The Arishok staggered back and Ericks swarmed around making slash after slash after slash. With each blow, the qunari found himself weakened…the only thing that was keeping him up was his abnormal healing and stamina. Ericks was feeling fatigue on his side as well despite being on the offence…he needed a fatal blow and he needed now. With a roar the Arishok grabbed Ericks by collar and slammed the rogue to the wall. He held up his sword and readied his own killing blow. Ericks reached into his belt and smashed a flask of acid into the Arishok's face, the qunari bellowed in pain as he was trying to shake the acid of his face. Erick winced in pain as well, the acid burned his hand but luckily it was only small amount. But he ignored it and went in for the kill, Ericks sunk his blades deep into the Arishok's neck like a wolf's fangs clamping onto a deer's throat. With a large growl, Ericks cut into the qunari deeply leaving large wounds that gushed with blood on to the rogue. The Arishok staggered backwards and then fell on to the stairs of the throne room, gasping for air and his blood staining the floor. Even as he lay there on the floor dying, the once proud Arishok gave the tired Ericks a look of defiance.

"One day, we shall return" With a gasp, the Arishok died much to relief of the nobles but what of the Arishok's men? Would they step in to avenge their leader's death? To the surprise of everyone, the qunari just picked up the Arishok's weapon and left the Keep.

"They're not taking the Arishok's body?" Aveline asked.

"No, to a qunari once a person dies their bodies are considered insignificant husks to be disposed of in whatever manner is most practical" Fenris said. "Instead, the tools of their position are taken as tribute because they are considered to be their souls"

Varric just shook his head. "Leave it to the qunari to make even death convoluted as hell" Meredith and Orsino ran into the throne room along with Bethany, Sebastian and Merrill. The elf saw Ericks injured and ran over to him, hugging him. Bethany wanted to be beside her brother but the Templars watched her as much as they watch the qunari leaving.

"Is it over?" Meredith asked.

"Yeah, it's over"

"The city has been saved!" one of the nobles shouted. All around them, the nobles cheered for the safety and for Kirkwall's newest hero. Meredith gave a cold glare at Ericks but quickly composed herself however this was not lost on some people about how the Knight-Commander felt.

"Well done. It appears Kirkwall has a new champion"


Champion: an honor unique to the Free Marches. Other terms of reverence suffer the stains of their holders, the lingering baggage of office and entitlement. But champion is not an appointment that can be sought. It cannot be owned or willed, and the process by which it is bestowed is not argued through policy or guile. It is earned with blood and sweat and leadership in times of great turmoil. Always worthy, as their deeds are of true importance, a champion is greeted not by debate, but by nods of reverence.

The title was most recently granted in Tantervale, 8:82 Blessed, on the resolution of the bloody expansion of Nevarra. Their king, emboldened by the taking of Perendale and the quick yielding of Hasmal, thought the remainder of the Free Marches as easy claim. He who became the Champion. Cade Arvale of Rivain, did what Orlais had not: He stopped a nation in its tracks. There was blood and barter, but Tantervale is still free against all odds.

There is the contradiction of the honor. Champion is not itself a sign of approval. He or she can be respected or feared, their coming dreaded as much as desired. All that is common is that they have an effect and lives are changed.

Kirkwall now adds to the history of the title, a first for the city, on this 9:34 Dragon. The Qunari are repelled by means respected or reviled, and it remains to be seen what follows for this Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.—From The Champion: History, Ancient and Current, excerpted by Philliam, a Bard!

Hawke Estate-9:40 Dragon

After Varric finished his tale, Cassandra looked deep in thought. "You seemed confused, Seeker"

"The Champion killed the Arishok in single combat? It just sounds so…romantic"

The dwarf raised a brow. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're developing a little crush"

Cassandra crossed her arms and scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. The Champion just seems very…heroic in your tale"

Varric gave a smug smirk. "Mm-hmm"

"If you're telling the truth" Cassandra then went silent and went into deep thought. "If you are, then…what happened at the Gallows may be far different than we assumed. I need to hear it"

"Let's say I tell you. Then what?" the dwarf asked. "Is the Chantry out for revenge? Is this what this is all about?"

The seeker shook her head. "No. It's not that"

"And what about me? If what I tell you isn't what you want to hear, will you let me go?"

"I will let you go"

"Well then, now we're talking"

Cassandra sighed. "None of this is what I thought it would be" she said. "Tell me what really happened.


'Champion of Kirkwall' that was the reward. A fine title. Every noble at the Keep owed the Champion their lives. He wasn't just a hero; he was now the most import person in the city so much so they wanted Hawke to be the new viscount. That was out of the question for Knight-Commander Meredith…you see for the longest time she had enjoyed an almost unparalleled hold on the city and with Hawke becoming champion, Meredith now had a rival, a rival that did not fear her authority like Dumar did. So she decided to step up in the name of 'keeping order', that's when things quickly got out of hand. The mages, of course felt the brunt of Meredith's new order and the more she squeezed, the more they resisted and the grip got tighter and tighter the more the mages resisted. And after three years of that, it was no surprise when it all came crashing down.-Tales of Varric Tethras

Triumph and soon Tragedy…Next Time! As always Review and Comment!