Breaking the Jaws: Part I
The Inquisitor and Cassandra stood at the War Table with his Advisors overlooking the various operations that their agents were carrying out. High risk missions, clandestine operations, political favors, and the gathering of resources was all being played out on this large, ancient table. Leliana's agents were working alongside the infamous former Antivan Crow Zevran Arianai to infiltrate and assassinate Venatori supporters in the Free Marches. Cullen was coordinating efforts with Guard-Captain Aveline to safely remove all traces of red lyrium from Kirkwall with the aide of Varric's contacts in the Merchant's Guild. And Josephine was cementing several trade agreements with Duke Cyril de Montfort, Arl Gallagher Wulf of the Western Hills, and the newly established Council of Wycome, of which Rajmael's Keeper was a member.
In all the years Rajmael spent as Keeper Deshana's apprentice, he never even dreamed that he would have a say in the outcome of national conflicts or decide the fate of thousands of people. Nor did he ever imagine that his own Keeper, or any elf for that matter, would ever be considered an equal amongst humans, let alone leading an originally human dominate city-state with the Harhen of an Alienage. But here they both were, leading their people in a time of change, and hopefully for the better. The only shame was the fact that it took so many centuries to make it to this point, and that was only because the world was in a state of chaos. All they could do now was try to lead the best as they could and try to keep what they had gained.
"Any other piece of immediate concern?" Rajmael asked after he finished overlooking the latest operations.
"There is one more item of importance, Inquisitor." Josephine answered. "We've received word from Professor Bram Kenric from the University of Orlais, a scholar that the Inquisition has been backing for ancient discoveries, believes he has made an important discovery in the Frostback Basin, but now his research is being interrupted by hostile Avvar tribesman. He is requesting that the Inquisitor"
"Who?" Rajmael asked incredulously.
"Professor Bram Kenric, a brilliant and controversial scholar of some fame, or infamy, depending on who you ask." Josephine answered eagerly. "When the Inquisition called for scholars to dig up ancient sites to keep any important artifacts away from Corypheus, he was amongst the first to join with us."
"Surely we can just send a proper amount of soldiers to guard this expedition." Cullen opposed disinterestedly. "With all that we have to deal with right now, I don't think that it's wise for the Inquisitor to be dragged off on an archaeological dig."
"Don't be so quick to dismiss this, Cullen." Leliana remarked. "If the Inquisitor is shown taking a personal interest in scholarly pursuits, then we may receive more favors, experts and grants from the University of Orlais and other patrons of that field."
"I assure you, the importance of this find may well be worth a more personal oversight. Look at this." Josephine placed a carefully sealed box on the War Table. Her delicate hands unsealed the lid and lifted an ancient but masterfully made helmet. It was a simple yet intricate design that covered the whole head but with a T-shaped slit in the front for the face and eyes. The helmet had inlays that looked like scales all over and a line of spiked studs that went down the middle of it. The most intricate part was the dragon face that rested on the brow and the sides of the part covering the face were made to look like swooping wings. "According to Professor Kenric, this helmet belonged to Inquisitor Ameridan."
Cassandra's eyes went wide with surprise and disbelief. "The Inquisitor Ameridan? The last Inquisitor who brought the Old Inquisition into the Chantry? The man who all but founded the Templar Order and the Circles of Magi?"
"According to legend, that man slew legions of dragons and maleficarum in the dawn of the first age after the downfall of the Imperium and the death of Andraste. Back when the Chantry was still just in its infancy." Leliana recalled with awe.
"And he disappeared chasing a dragon into the west just after Kordillius Drakon finished establishing the Chantry and the Orlesian Empire." Cullen stated, starting to believe. "You mean to say that this Professor Kenric has found Ameridan's final resting place? Such a discovery would be incredible."
"And it is because of that importance Professor Kenric wants the Inquisitor to be personally involved with this expedition." Josephine affirmed. "The current Inquisitor finding the resting place of the last Inquisitor would attract support from all over Southern Thedas. But it cannot be done if these hostile Avvars continue to hinder the search."
While his advisors were talking about the importance of this Inquisitor Ameridan, Inquisitor Rajmael's attention was fixed solely on that helmet. He carefully picked it up and felt it in his hands. There was something...out of place with his helmet. There was an aura that faintly emanated from the very surface of the metal that only Rajmael's elven eyes could see. It wasn't enchanted, but it was forged with magic. A technique that wasn't used by human smiths or mages of that era.
Rajmael looked inside the helmet and noticed some rust and dirt caked inside. Not surprising considering how old it was. He reached into his coat and pulled out the brush he always used to uncover dirt from ancient artifacts when his clan discovered elven ruins back when he was Deshana's apprentice. He hadn't used it in so long, he almost forgot about it, but this unshakeable out of place feeling that he had about this helmet reminded him of its use. Rajmael carefully brushed the inside of the ancient helmet and broke away all the dirt, grim and rust that had accumulated and found something that was completely out of place.
"This was Inquisitor Ameridan's personal helmet? Rajmael inquired curiously.
"Yes. Professor Kenric says that there's no room for doubt; Ameridan did wear this on his final hunt." Josephine assured.
"And all the historical images and archives depict Ameridan wearing this helmet. It's part of the reason why so many storytellers and poets make varying accounts of what he looked like." Cassandra added.
"You all say that Ameridan was an important Andrastian figure, right?" Rajmael asked.
"Yes, of course." Cullen confirmed.
"Without him, the Original Inquisition would never have been brought into the Chantry, and the Chantry as we know it would never have existed." Leliana added.
"Bah. And a lot of good that's been so far." Rajmael scoffed disinterestedly. "What I want to know is why such an important Chantry figure was wearing a Dalish helmet."
"What?" Cassandra asked with shock.
Rajmael turned the helmet over and revealed a strange maker's mark inside. The inscription was obviously elven in origin, depicting an anvil with a plume of flame dancing on it. How could such an object belonging to a devout Andrastian have such a mark?
"This helmet was forged in the Dales, in the Temple of June, and forged by the hand of the temple's High Keeper." Rajmael stated as fact. "Only objects made by the hands of the High Priest of June were allowed to bear this mark. And the magic I sense on this helmet is unmistakably elven. Neither the Chantry or the early human kingdoms had access to such magical techniques; only the elves had such knowledge. This helmet was made in Halamshiral, when my people ruled the Dales."
"Incredible!" Josephine exclaimed. "Perhaps there is more to this discovery than just finding where Ameridan's resting place is."
Rajmael stared at the helmet intently. Somehow this Inquisitor Ameridan had some sort of connection with his people. For some reason, the High Priests of the temples in Halamshiral felt Ameridan was worthy to bear such a masterfully crafted item, and as a Dalish elf, and the current Inquisitor, Rajmael needed to find out what that connection was.
"Cassandra. Gather our companions, and send Scout Harding ahead to meet with Professor Kenric. We're going to the Frostback Basin."
The Inquisition Camp in the Frostback Basin...
Only the foolish and suicidal try to travel the full length of the Frostback Mountains. The powerful winds, merciless snows, impossible passes, and the sheer cliffs made it impossible for anyone to get through, save for some vital paths that made traveling between Ferelden and Orlais possible. So to get to the Basin, Rajmael and his companions had go around the whole length of Frostbacks.
But they finally made it, and many of them were quite taken by the natural beauty of the Basin. The trees were ancient and powerful, with rolling hills and gentle rivers, and the whole region was thick with game. Rajmael saw some trout swimming in a stream that were larger than cats. They found the Inquisition outpost where Scout Harding and Professor Kenric were waiting for them. Rajmael knew at this point whenever he saw the ginger dwarven scout there was something dangerous and foreboding going on. Standing next to Scout Harding was a man wearing the uniform and hat of an Inquisition Scholar. The man was in his late thirties to early forties with a dark stubble growing on his chin. The look on his face was one half nervous the other half excited.
"Glad to see you here, Inquisitor. Welcome to Frostback Basin." Scout Harding greeted in her usual cheery manner. "Allow me to introduce Professor Bram Kenric, he's the reason why we're out here."
"Oh, it's such an honor to finally meet you, Your Worship." The Professor bowed in respect. His accent pegged him as an obvious native of Starkhavn. "I never imagined that I'd be working on the account of the Inquisition, and now here I am, meeting and seeking both the last and the current Inquisitors at once. It's like two dreams coming true at once!"
"Ahem. You're doing that thing again, Professor." Harding reminded.
"Oh, right. Sorry. It's just all so exciting." The Professor confessed. "You know, I'm actually surprised to discover that you are, in fact, a Dalish elf. Many of my colleagues back in the University and my patrons in the court refuse to broach the subject, let alone accept it."
A dangerous look passed through the Inquisitor's eyes. "Are you and I going to have a problem, Professor?"
"Oh, no. Not at all. I'm more interested in the truth, not the inconvenience of it placed by the petty prejudices of others." Professor Kenric explained.
"Then, please, get to the point of why I'm here on the ass end of the Frostbacks in the middle of a war." Rajmael urged.
"Uh, I have reason to believe that the final resting place of Inquisitor Ameridan is somewhere here in the Basin." Kenric finally stated. "That helmet I sent you not only proves it. Now we just need to be able to gather the clues that remain here and find it."
"What can you tell me about Inquisitor Ameridan?" Rajmael asked curiously.
"Well, the accounts vary between records that are missing or have been lost, and much of it is muddled with romantic exaggerations from bards and poets." Kenric answered with uncertainty.
That was certainly a surprise. "So you mean to tell me that you know nothing?"
"No, not nothing. Not at all, Your Worship." Kenric assured. "Of the man's true past, little can be said on account of destroyed records and misinformation. What is known is the impact his actions had. After he brought the Inquisition into the Chantry, thus making the Templar Order and the Circle of Magi, he journeyed westward chasing after a dragon with his closest companions and was never heard from again. That is when the stories start differing. You've got some that say Ameridan was a reckless embarrassment to the court who was banished by Emperor Kordillius, others that say he was a thrill-seeker that was bored with this newfound peace and gallivanted for this dragon in one last great hunt. And then there are some that state that Ameridan was sent after the dragon by the emperor."
"And you're here to discover the truth of the matter?"
"Exactly!" Kenric answered vigorously. "Finding Ameridan's final resting place could shed so much light on the man, and the world will finally realize importance he played in history. Without him, there would have been no Templar Order or Circles, and the Chantry we know might never have existed. Perhaps even the Orlesian might not have existed without him."
"Not to mention we'd be finding the arms and armor of the Last Inquisitor, which would probably be really, really powerful considering the things he faced back in his day." Scout Harding added.
"So far, all you've given me is reasons why I should hate Ameridan's guts. Everything he accomplished is what set the Chantry on the path of destruction we're now facing, and Orlais has committed countless crimes against many nations in trying to fulfill Kordillius' tyrannical dream of one empire ruling the world. Not to mention the crimes both the Chantry and Orlais have committed against my people." Rajmael stated with disgust in his voice. "But as the current Inquisitor, and a Dalish elf, it's my sworn duty to discover the truth. I'll find out what happened to Inquisitor Ameridan. Anything he may have buried with him will be better off with us than waiting for some treasure hunter to find, or the Venatori to plunder. What's this I've heard about the Avvar?"
"That's the other reason I've called you down here, Inquisitor." Kenric said despondently.
"The Avvar have completely halted all our activities here in the Basin." Harding informed. "They've been attacking our scholars at the dig site and have been attacking any Inquisition caravan that comes through here. It looks like they're looking for a fight with you. Surprise, surprise. They're calling themselves the Jaws of Hakkon."
"The Jaws of Hakkon?" Rajmael could hardly believe they were called that.
"They're not the only Avvar tribe here, though." Harding continue. "Another tribe from a local settlement called Stone-Bear Hold have paid us a visit, it was actually quite civil, by Avvar standards anyway. Their chieftain, Svarrah Sun-Hair, wanted us to know that her people are not involved with the Hakkonites, and they want no quarrel with us."
"If these Avvar are friendly, then maybe we should try talking to them first?" Varric suggested. "They know this place better than we do, and maybe they can help us find Ameridan's grave."
"What's the next step in finding Ameridan's grave, Professor?" Vivienne asked.
"I've traced Ameridan's movements here to an island in the middle of the nearby lake." Kenric answered. "Unfortunately, neither myself nor your forces bothered to bring a boat through the mountains. You'll have to ask one of the locals to aid you."
"Well, first you're going to need to deal with those Jaws of Hakkon jerks." Harding reminded. "They're camped out all over this region and they're overwhelming our forces that try to set up a base camp by the river. You'll need to go help our men and establish a supply line along that river if we're going to hold a presence here. They have our men pinned down at the river right now. I don't know how much longer they're going to last."
"Don't worry. We're good at kicking people's asses and showing them who's boss. Right, Boss?" Iron Bull bragged.
"I'll go save our people first, then I'll go and meet with this Svarrah Sun-Hair at the Avvar stronghold." Rajmael promised. "Perhaps they can assist us against these Jaws of Hakkon and help us find out what happened to Ameridan."
~XoXoXo~
The Inquisitor and his company left the Inquisition outpost to go fulfil their goals. At first, everyone was taken in by the natural beauty of the Basin. With it's gentle streams and rivers, tall trees and green hills it seemed like the ideal place for any people to want to settle in. That is until they realized that this place was one giant feeding station for all the local wildlife. Gurguts larger than cattle, giant spiders, and even lurkers a tall as people. This place was so dangerous it seemed that the Avvar were the only people hardy, or insane enough to call this place their home. Who else would actually choose to live here?
"You didn't seem to pleased about some of the accomplishments of your predecessor, Inquisitor." Solas pointed out.
"Yes, I noticed that, too." Vivienne added. "I would think that you'd be honored to perform such a service to such an honored figure, or at least respect the contributions your predecessor made to the world."
"Ameridan is a legend and a hero. Why such disregard for him?" Cassandra inquired.
"You people really need to stop taking history at face value and broaden your way of thinking." Rajmael responded vehemently. "To you Ameridan was a hero, the great Inquisitor who helped Emperor Kordillius I form the Orlesian Empire and brought the might of the Original Inquisition into the Chantry, and that's where your idiocy kicks in. By creating the Templar Order and the Circles of Magi, Ameridan gave a corruptible institution all the power it needed to abuse its authority and inflict countless abuses and crimes against countless people in the name of religious righteousness. And its because of this corruption the world is in the state it's in now."
"Oh, dear Inquisitor, are you ever going to let go of what happened to your people all those centuries ago?" Vivienne said haughtily.
"If I was a weak-willed conformist, Vivienne, I'd be a very poor Dalish elf." Rajmael countered. "But maybe you're right. Being burned alive by the order of a Chantry priest and watching my parents die probably just made me bitter and biased. Then again, I don't expect you know what hardship truly is."
Iron Bull knew that there was some heavy tension between the Boss and Iron Lady after that shit she pulled with him. He needed to defuse the situation before it led to a fatality. "So, uh, Boss, you know anything about these Avvar? Aside from the assholes who attacked us in the Fallow Mire, and that Chieftain who threw goats at the castle?"
Rajmael snorted in disgust for Vivienne, but took his attention away from the subject. "The Avvar are a simplicity wrapped up an enigma. They can be your best friends or your worst enemy. There's a reason why people avoid them. My people are no exception to that rule."
"Have your people ever encountered the Avvar before?" Dorian inquired.
"Not my clan, but all the Dalish know the story of when the Avvar attacked a certain tribe, and the repercussions that followed." Rajmael answered grimly. "Of how Keeper Marethari took up the mantle of leadership for Clan Sabrae."
"Wait. Marethari? Daisy's teacher?" Varric interrupted. "I knew her! Back before...before things went bad for her clan." The dwarven merchant's face became somber at the memory of when Hawke and Merrill were forced to kill Marethari when she was possessed by a powerful demon.
"Yes. Marethari Talas' story started off happy enough." Rajmael continued. "She was set to take up leadership from her Keeper thanks to her wisdom and powerful magic, and she had just married her clan's second, her childhood sweetheart. It seemed like Marethari's whole world was her oyster. Then the Avvar came." The Inquisitor's face twisted into a scowl. "Winter was coming, and the Keeper moved his clan away from their usual camping ground, and as they were moving through the Frostbacks a clan of Avvar warriors attacked the Sabrae Clan. Marethari's Keeper was gravely injured, and many of her clanmates were killed, including Marethari's husband."
"Well...shit." Varric exclaimed. "What...what happened after that?"
"The Keeper died of his wounds, and many of members of the clan were too injured to journey on." Rajmael continued, his voice was grim and unforgiving. "So, Marethari traveled southward alone to the Korcari Wilds, seeking some ancient power to exact vengeance for her clan and dead husband. Some say she invoked ancient spirits of vengeance, and others claim she sought out ancient witch who lived in the swamp with access to forbidden magic. But whatever it was she was seeking, Marethari found it and got her revenge. And thus, by blood and by tragedy, Marethari inherited the mantle of Keeper of Clan Sabrae, and every clan knew that her wisdom and power was to be reckoned with."
"But what happened to the Avvar? How did Marethari get her revenge?" Varric inquired.
"The very trees of the Frostback Mountain came to life and destroyed the entire Avvar tribe. Their bodies were found ripped apart, men, women and children, all hanging from the trees, like treats for the birds. Those that survived claimed that it was the wrath of Korth Mountain-Father. But everyone, Avvar and Dalish alike, knew that they all died because of whatever power Marethari called upon to avenge her kin."
Rajmael's voice was colder than the mountain streams, and every word seemed to pass through his companions like a slow knife. Rajmael could see how deeply his tale effected the likes of Sera and Iron Bull, both of them easily frightened by things beyond their understanding. Sera had this horrified look plastered on her face as though she just woke up from a nightmare, and Iron Bull was as stiff as board, his single eye twitching anxiously.
"Damn, Inquisitor! You ought to tell stories more often!" Varric announced.
"That strangely sounds like the bedtime stories my mother used to tell me before she would get into drunken arguments with my father." Dorian commented with frightened nostalgia.
"The screams, terror, anger and sadness echo in the minds of all who hear this tale." Cole whispered. "Every Dalish elf heard this tale at the Arlathvhen. You and Nethras were so scared that Evanura made you scream when she came out of nowhere. You deny that you wet yourself."
"Thanks for sharing that, Cole." Rajmael said blushing with embarrassment.
"Are you saying that these Avvar are not to be trusted?" Cassandra voiced in.
"What I'm saying is that we must be cautious in dealing with them." Rajmael affirmed. "These are people who live solely for survival and their own rugged sense of honor. We cannot expect them to adhere to the same sense of honor and values we have."
"Well, it looks like we're going to have to deal with them very soon. Look!" Solas pointed down the way and they all saw the Inquisition's forces engaging an overwhelming assault from a vast number of savagely armed an armored Avvar warriors.
"Aw, crap, those must be the Hakkonites. Dorian, Sera, give us some cover fire. Cole, Varric, take out their flanks. Solas and Blackwall, I want you to defend our troops. Everyone else, on me!" Rajmael ordered. They all drew their weapons and charged down hill towards the river where their men were fighting.
The Inquisition forces were trying to hold a recently made encampment along the river. If it wasn't for the spiked barricades made around the camp, the Inquisition forces would have been overrun by now, but they gave as good as they got. These Avvar warriors were all covered completely in white war paint over their armor with streaks of black over it. And all of them had fearsome designs over their mouths to look like the jaws of some fearsome beast. But the most fearsome thing about these each of them, was their weapons; it was though they were made of some kind of enchanted ice. What kind of magic was this?
"It's the Inquisitor!" One of the Avvar warriors cried.
"Death to the Inquisitor and his Hold! For Hakkon's glory!" Another bellowed. Then all the Avvar broke off their attacks and immediately charged at the Inquisitor.
Suddenly, Rajmael had over a dozen pissed off Avvar tribesman coming down on him. What had he done to make them so mad? The archers shot arrows from bows made of pure ice at him. The arrows glanced off his Shimmering Shield like drops of rain, but he still felt them. They left a searing cold pain behind on his skin as they glided off, right through his Shimmering Shield. What kind of magic did these Avvar possess? Their magic was solely ice-based, but it wasn't trained or used as an extension of themselves, like it was with Enchanter Vivienne and other Circle mages. It was as though they were channeling the natural forces of winter through them in all its fury and destruction.
Vivienne laid out several ice glyphs before the Avvarian mages before they could take a step further. She would show these filthy barbarian apostates what true magic was. The spellbinders stepped on the glyph, her ice spell would shatter them like glass. But it never happened, the apostates simply walked over her glyphs like they were merely grass. The spellbinders chanted in some unknown tongue and conjured a flying block of ice back at the Imperial Enchanter with the force and weight of anvil. How dare they!? The mana in her veins ignited like cold fire as she conjured a complex glyph between her hands and launched a furious storm of icicles the size of spears at the insolent apostates, impaling them like meat on shish kebab. She would teach these heathen barbarians proper respect.
It took all the willpower Varric had not to spontaneously piss in his pants right now. It wasn't having four savage Avvar dressed painted like white skeletons came screaming at him with swords made of ice. It was having four screaming Avvar armed with swords made of ice coming at him after he lodged several arrows into their chests! He pressed Bianca's buttstock against his shoulder and launched an explosive bolt into each of their heads just before they reached him. Their heads exploded like ripe melons and covered him in their brain matter. He was going to need a shower when this was over.
"Eat some of this, you pissers! Piping hot!" Sera laughed manically. Out of tactical awareness or the panic of battle, the Red Jenny thief smashed a Fire Flask on her leather jerkin, engulfing herself in flames and setting her arrows on fire, which gave her an edge over the ice-wielding savages. She'd have to restock on her supply of Fire Flasks for the rest of however long they'd be in the ass end of the Frostbacks.
From what Dorian could see, Sera had the right idea. These Avvar seemed to be using some kind of ice-based enchantments and spells, the logical thing to use was fire. Balls of spat from the crystal in Dorians staff and rained down on the barbarian warriors. But their shields withstood the burning assault, he needed to step his attacks up a notch. One of the warriors got close enough to swing his sword at Dorian's head. Dorian ducked sideways and slammed his hand into the man's face, leaving a searing print behind on his flesh. The man staggered back screaming in pain, the flesh of his face searing and expanding. His whole body swelled like a malignant pustule until he blew up in an explosion of entropic magic, fire, and blood and guts that killed the other attacking Avvar. Dorian smiled smugly at his grisly work.
Anger burning like dried ice buried beneath layers of strict piety. These men were like ice, feeling nothing but rage and murder. Why were they so angry? Cole could sense several hunters circling around him. They thought he didn't know where they are. They were wrong. One lunged at him from behind with daggers, Cole steped to the side and slashed the man's jugular with his own before disappearing in a puff of smoke. Where's he go? A dagger flew like an arrow through the air and found its way into the neck of the Avvar that was hiding in the bushes. The final one saw his comrades' dead bodies slump to the ground, blood pulsing out of them in thick ropes, and decided to regroup with the other, but the instant he turned around he didn't find his comrades, only the blade of Cole's remaining dagger shoved through his mouth and out the backside of his head.
These Avvar were strong, a few of them were bigger than some Qunari he knew. Bull was actually impressed with how determined these assholes were. But as strong and vicious as they were, they lacked discipline. There was no coordination in their attacks; they all just wanted to kill something no matter what. It was like fighting against the Tal-Vashoth. This would be easy. Three massive Avvar warriors swinging giant mauls charged him down, but The Bull charged right back at them even harder. laughing his musclebound ass off. He jammed the pommel of his battle axe right into the first one's nose, completely smashing his face down his throat. The second one charged in on the Bull's blindside, but he was stupid enough to bellow like an idiot instead of going in quietly. Iron Bull easily ducked beneath the savage strike and chopped off both his legs from underneath him. The last one attacked the giant Qunari head on, Iron Bull simply evaded then broke the man's neck in his hands like a dried twig. All too easy.
Blackwall held his shield above his head to deflect a volley of incoming arrows. They stuck to his shield's face like nails to a board, and were as cold a winter. He had to take out those archers before they felled any more soldiers. He ran at the archers with a Shield Charge, doing his best to protect his vital spots. These archers had absolutely no fear, they didn't bother changing their position when he got so close to them. Admirable but mistaken, it just made them stationary targets. But Blackwall had to admit, they were some damned good archers. Even at this range, they were able to rapidly fire those arrows and even get a few past his shield. But Blackwall's heavy plate armor held strong, he could feel the intense cold of the enchanted arrows stuck in his cuirass, but they did little else to harm him. And now they were out of arrows. Blackwall reared back his mace and swung it at the damned hostiles with savage fervor. The weight and power of his mace easily broke their necks and shattered their skulls. Within seconds their blood and bits of skull and brain matter stained the ground and Blackwall's armor.
Solas cast a protective barrier over the Inquisition soldiers, this should shield them from the Avvar's magic while they were attacking the others. Solas had never seen humans use such spells, not in this Age at least. A group of Avvar ran to attack the already weakened Inquisition soldiers left behind on the field. Solas manipulated the Veil to create a small Rift that pulled the Avvar away from the Inquisition soldiers and subsequently ripped them apart in a torrent of Fade magic, blood, and shredded limbs. Several more charged his way with thick tower shields and savage swords. The elven apostate summoned a large jagged boulder from the other side of the Veil that flew out the Avvar, and shredded through their shields and flesh like they were paper.
Cassandra had heard of the Avvar from Leliana, and from what she saw here, Leliana did not exaggerate. These warriors were trained not by any military, but by the harsh intensities of the Frostback Mountains. But they were far from perfect. They were highly skilled raiders used to blitz tactics, but they obviously lacked any real experience in what true battle was. The Seeker charged down three Avvar, two armed with battle axes, one with daggers, and the last one with a longsword. The first lunged at her with both his daggers, she stopped him dead in his tracks with a shield bash in to the face, and then her sword through his heart. The second attack came from one of the warriors with an axe. She blocked the axehead with her shield then chopped the shaft in half before opening the man's throat. The final one actually tried to fight her one on one with swords. It was a courageous but pitiable attempt. Cassandra disarmed him in two moves and beheaded him in the third.
Rajmael held Enasalin firmly in his grip, the sylvanwood blade burning with veilfire and his Shimmering Shield engulfing his whole being. There were five of them, why did he always end up fighting the most opponents? One was a mage, two were armed with battle axes, an archer, and a swordsman with a towershield. Rajmael charged the warrior with the towershield with a precise, powerful lunge attack. The veilfire on the blade pierced through the shield, and the man himself, like a knife through butter. With the man still impaled on his sword, Rajmael charged his magic through the blade and a bolt of lightning flew out of it and struck the nearby archer in the face, making his head explode.
Now wasn't the time to let up, not with that Avvar shaman chanting some kind of spell. The Inquisitor ripped his sword out of the corpse that was stuck on it and threw an arc of veilfire from the blade at the shaman, slicing his upper head from his lower jaw, like splitting a melon in half. Without any magic to give them any protection or an edge, the remaining warriors with their battle axes made their move, but Rajmael wasn't going to let them make it. Before the first one even had a chance to swing his axe, Rajmael dashed past him in a shimmering blur with his sword ready. The Avvar screamed in horrid agony as his axe flew through the air...with his severed hands still gripping it. The warrior fell to his knees staring at the stumps where his hands used to be, and watched the thick ropes of blood spurt out of the severed arteries before passing out and dying of blood loss.
The last warrior snarled and gnashed his teeth at the Inquisitor while he held his axe ready to chop down the formidable elf. Rajmael stared down his larger opponent with contempt in his eyes, then sheathed his sword and dared the axe-wielding human to come at him. The Inquisitor would kill this brute with his bare hands. The Avvar bellowed wildly and rushed forward, swinging his giant axe wildly at the Inquisitor. The elf did nothing, made no move or attack; he just stood there. The Avvar's axe was going to split him in half. But the axe never made contact with the Inquisitor. It shattered the instant it hit his Shimmering Shield like it was as brittle as glass. Rajmael spun on his heel and kicked the Avvar warrior with enough force to shame a mule, and brought his opponent to his knees. The final sound that came from the Avvar was not a warcry of defiance, but of his own neck breaking in the Inquisitor's hands.
Rajmael looked to rest of the field and saw that his companions had handled the remaining Avvar. The Inquisition soldiers were safe. Rajmael heard terrible hacking and desperate gasps for breaths, the Avvar he impaled was still alive, but not for long with all the blood that was pouring out of that wound. Even with death about to take him, the warrior still tried to grab his sword and fight on. Rajmael kicked the sword away and kneeled over the dying barbarian.
"Why did you attack us? What does your tribe have against the Inquisition?" Rajmael asked the dying man.
The Avvar hatefully spat his own blood at the Inquisitor. "The Inquisition will not be able stop the Jaws of Hakkon again! Hakkon's fury will destroy the Lowlands...your time is coming to an end..." The man's last escaped his lips as the last of his blood trickled out of his body, and died.
"Again? What did he mean again? Have these Jaws of Hakkon encountered the Inquisition before?" Cassandra asked.
"And what did any of this have to do with Hakkon?" Dorian wondered.
"It would seem that these heathens think they are serving the will of one of their fairytale gods." Vivienne scoffed.
"Buncha creepy ice-pissers. With their creepy paintjobs and creepy magic." Sera shuddered.
Varric couldn't help but laugh. "Even on the ass end of nowhere, we find a bunch of crazies who want to kill us."
"Religious fanatics suck ass no matter where you go." Rajmael spat.
"Thanks for the save, Lord Inquisitor. Lieutenant Farrow reporting, Ser." An elven Inquisition officer saluted.
"Report, Lieutenant."
"Ser, we came here to establish several base camps along the Varsdotten River so that we could better move supplies to our forces here." Lieutenant Farrow explained. "We had just started setting up this last camp when the Avvar attacked. I guess they were waiting to catch us off guard. We hadn't set up any defenses at this site and their numbers were just too much, they overwhelmed us."
"Can you reestablish this and the other campsites?"
"Aye, ser." Farrow answered. "With the Avvar retreating and more reinforcements arriving, I think we can finish what we came here to do."
"Finish establishing this camp and get enough of our forces to man the other sites. I want this river secured from anymore raids." Rajmael ordered. "And there's one more thing I want you to do, Lieutenant Farrow. The rest of us will see about getting to that island in Cloudclap Lake."
~XoXoXo~
The rivers that flowed through the Basin, and all the snow that melted in the Mountains, all flowed and converged in this massive body of water named Cloudclap Lake. It was like a small ocean in locked in the middle of land. Rajmael could see how the lake got its name. There was a mist as thick as castle walls floating over the surface lake's mirror like surface. It was actually quite eerie. There was a fisherman's hut with docked boats nearby, perhaps they could get across from here.
As they approached the hut, Rajmael noticed a group Avvar already gathered there. Several were Hakkonites, judging from their black and white war paint and angry dispositions, and they were all armed. The other one wore no war paint, just simple furs and leathers, and obviously not a Hakkonite. And it didn't look like they were having a friendly conversation.
"What's this? Are the fishers of Stone-Bear Hold too stingy to share a meal with friends?" On of the Hakkonites demanded.
"Can the Jaws of Hakkon not catch their own fish, or are those jaws of yours only good for flapping?" The fisherman mocked.
"Chief Sun-Hair won't always be in charge, and your friendship with Auger Siobahn and Bear-Hold won't always protect you." The Hakkonite sneered. "When the Jaws of Hakkon rule, you'll wish you'd been more generous."
"And yet all I feel is hot air." The fisherman laughed. "You aiming to do something, other than cry?"
"You're going to...!" The Hakkonites finally noticed the outsiders watching their little squabble. "Inquisition! Death to their Hold, for Hakkon's glory!"
The three of them drew their ice-blades and charged the Inquisitor. Rajmael dashed past them in flash like lightning. He moved so fast none of them saw his sylvanwood sword move. Rajmael flicked the blood of his sword and sheathed it. Blood sprayed out of the Hakkonites' body like a wave of crimson as they fell to the ground dead.
"Lady of The Skies! What do they teach you Lowland elves!?" The fisherman said with wide-eyed shock. "I've no quarrel with you, Inquisition. Those Hakkonite fools trouble enough. If you didn't kill them, someone from my clan would have. Name's Arvid Rolfsen. What can I do for you?"
In all honesty, Rajmael had not expected any Avvar to be friendly. "Is this your place, Arvid?"
"This is my house and these are my boats. Been fishing here since I was knee-high to my pap." The fisherman answered amiably.
"I need to get to the Island in the middle of the lake. I was hoping to borrow one of your boats."
Arvid's eyes went wide with shock, even fear. "The Island of The Lady?"
"The what?"
"I'm sorry, but no. No offense, elf, but you are not of the Hold. I cannot send you over to that Island and risk you angering the spirits that dwell there. That's trouble my clan doesn't need." Arvid explained.
"Such an ignorant superstition." Vivienne scoffed. "I doubt these people will be of much help."
"It is not ignorant to be wary of present dangers, especially when your own is at risk, Enchanter." Solas countered.
"Is there any way you can help us?" Cassandra asked.
"Speak with my Thane, Svarrah Sun-Hair. If she grants you her blessing you can sail to Korth's rocky heart, if that's what you desire." Arvid promised. "She's meeting with Siobahn Skin-Changer of Bear-Hold, our kin to the north, and Gurd Harofsen, the leader of the Jaws of Hakkon. If you want to tweak Gurd's noes in front of witnesses, now would be the best time."
"Hmm. You know, that's not a bad idea." Rajmael unsheathed his and proceeded to cut the heads off all the dead Avvar.
"Eww! What're you doing!?" Sera's stomach did backflips at the sight of Rajmael dismembering the dead.
"A tad excessive, don't you think?" Dorian asked sharing Sera's dislike.
"I'm gonna tweak Gurn Harofsen's nose.I think it's time we paid Stone-Bear Hold a visit." Rajmael answered casually as he ripped off another dead Hakkonite's head. "Arvid, can I borrow a sack?"
Stone-Bear Hold...
The Avvar Keep was strategically built into the side of the mountain overlooking the lake. Just like Redcliffe, place was ideal for defense against hostile forces, as well as for storing and gathering necessities throughout the year. This place was large and held an appropriate population, it was a thriving community all on its own. a testament to the staunch will and strength of the stubborn Avvar who made the Basin their home.
As they approached the gates to enter the Hold, they were met by several large, heavily armed guards.
"It seems our Hold is quite popular to outsiders to day." One of the guards chuckled. "Guests are welcome, so long as they keep their weapons sheathed. You are not the only visitors we have today, so try not to cause any offenses."
It became painfully obvious that this Hold did not receive many visits from the denizens of the Lowlands, judging from the gawking looks and curious eyes that stared at them. The Avvar were not very quiet when it came to whispering.
"Look at that. Lowlanders."
"Why do they dress like that?"
"One of them's got horns, and there's a dwarf with no beard! Is this a caravan or a traveling sideshow?"
As they closer they got to the inner keep, they noticed a large crowd had gathered, and the walls were echoing with revelries, cheering and shouting as the crowd watched their spectacle.
"What is that racket?" Cassandra asked in annoyance.
"Ooh. Sounds like a party, or a fight." Iron Bull answered excitedly. "Either way, it sounds like a lot of fun."
"I dread to think to think what these Avvar do for fun." Dorian groaned.
"Laughing, running, moving. Will he make it, will he not? Who is going to win?" Cole read the mood of the crowd perfectly.
It seems they came upon some kind of contest. Two tribesman were hurriedly climbing an ancient, rocky wall. The wall was obviously designed to be challenging with its rough surface and stones barely large enough to grab, and the height they had to climb was enough to make most people too nervous to even try. Despite the difficulty, the two mountain men climbed as though it was easier than walking. And apparently, even the Avvar like to place wagers and make bets on the winners of any contest.
"Come on, Parve you're almost there!" One of the spectators cheered.
"Hask, move your damned legs!" A woman urged.
"Ha! He climbs like a fish!" The man laughed.
"Shut it!"
Standing on a platform above the crowd stood three figures who watched the contest with intense silence. One of them was an older woman of veteran years. She wore thick furs and hood made from the same hides and design as the rest of the people in this Hold. She had a handsome face that was worn from years of hard work and battle, and piercing eyes that watched for everything. And in her hand was a massive stone warhammer in the shape of a snarling bears head. The only other woman in Thedas capable of lifting that thing was Guard-Captain Aveline. This must have been Svarrah Sun-Hair.
The other two were most definitely from this Hold. The first was a woman of such stunning beauty it was hard to believe she was even Avvar. She was tall and beautiful with a modest bust, narrow hips and flowing, sun-kissed hair cascasding down her back. Her face was small, heart shaped and had plump, crimson lips that were pulled into a lovely smile and showed off her white teeth. The wyvern leather jerkin and pants she was wearing clung to her body like a second skin and showed of her curvaceous form and generous feminine assets. And judging from the smile on her face, she was enjoying the attention some of the outsiders were giving her, their eyes were all but glued on to her.
While Iron Bull, Sera, Varric, Blackwall and even Cole were ogling at the voluptuous woman in skin tight clothes, Rajmael's attention was, unfortunately, stuck on the last one. He was an intimidating, sinister figure, wearing the same black and white war paint of the other Jaws of Hakkon. There was a look of arrogance in his eyes, and a despicable grin on his face that the chieftain tried to ignore, but obviously hated. Rajmael it didn't think it was possible, but this human was practically a giant, he stood at least a foot and half taller than Iron Bull, and with the ram horned hood he was wearing, he could have been mistaken for a Qunari from a distance. There was a symbol of a black snowflake over two crossed axes emblazoned on his chest, the symbol of the Avvar god of Winter and War, Hakkon Wintersbreath. This must be the leader of the Jaws of Hakkon, Gurd Harofsen.
"Your climbers seem tired, Thane Sun-Hair. Poor hunting? How does your Hold-Beast fare?" Gurd's tone was condescending, his question an obvious insult.
"We hunt as well as ever, Thane Harofsen." Svarrah answered almost evasively, trying to pay attention to the climbers.
"You would fare better under the protection of the Jaws of Hakkon, Thane. There is much our tribes could benefit together." Gurd insisted.
The fair-haired woman laughed as though she heard a funny joke. "From what I saw in the Basin when yer men attacked the Inquisition, it seems ye're the ones who need more protection, Gurd Harofsen."
"Your continued support for the Lowlanders over your own people will be your undoing, Siobahn Skin-Changer. Yours, and the rest of Bear-Hold." Gurd promised. "And your precious Lowland Hero won't be around to save you."
"Perhaps I should contact Aedan Cousland and he could show ye to fight like a real man, instead of whining bully full of hot air." Siobahn mocked. "Then ye'd see what a real man is like."
"Hask Fishersen has won the challenge in the sight of the Lady of The Skies!" Svarrah Sun-Hair declared bringing the contest to a close, and interrupting her guests verbal duel. "Parve, you owe four rams to Hask, not three."
"Tyrdda's tits!" Parved sword.
"Wind lift your oaths to the Lady of The Skies, and deliver the rams come morning." Svarrah beckoned.
"May your people be as strong as your Hold-Beast." Gurd saluted. His attention finally turned to the Lowlanders who arrived here. There was a spark of hatred behind his dark eyes at the sight of Rajmael. "Inquisitor. This is not my Hold, I will not shed your blood here. You will face the full might of the Jaws of Hakkon soon enough."
Rajmael's flashed the colossal human a deathly glare. He emptied the contents of the sack he was carrying and dumped the severed heads of the Hakkonites he killed at Harofsen's feet. "So far, I'm not impressed, asshole. Why don't you and I step out of this Hold right now, you stop hiding behind your underlings, and you show me what the full might of your Jaws of Hakkon truly is. And then I'll break your Jaws beneath my heel."
Siobahn busted out laughing at the top of her lungs so the entire Hold heard her. "Ye see, Gurd? Now that is how real men talk!"
"All will be settled in time." Gurd promised. He walked past the Inquisitor and made his way out. Rajmael could feel the weight of his steps vibrating the ground as he walked.
"Inquisitor, welcome I've heard of your arrival." The Thane chuckled with Gurd out of sight. "Come, share my fire where we might talk."
The Inquisitor and his company followed the Thane to her dwelling. Rajmael could hear Vivienne's nose wrinkle when she sniffed at the very sight of it. The Thane's home was basically a cave carved into the mountainside. There was a giant fire pit in the middle of the cave blazing with light, and there was even strips of meat warming on the side. The stone floor was covered in thick ram furs and a table with bone charms and runes littered on it. What was most impressive was the large throne-like chair in the back that was made from the skull and bones of a giant, and they didn't look that old. Did the Thane kill it herself.
"Welcome to Stone-Bear Hold, Inquisitor. I grant you guest-welcome to our home." Thane Sun-Hair stated as she sat down in her giant-bone chair. "You've come far from the safety of the Lowlands."
"And as much as I would love to explore this frigid, beast infested death trap you call home, we are here on a mission." Rajmael informed. "We have reason to believe that the last Inquisitor died in the Basin hundreds of years ago. We came here seeking his body."
"Giving rest and honor to the dead is a worthy quest, one will gladly aid in. Any help we can offer is yours." Svarrah Sun-Hair promised. "But the Jaws of Hakkon will not be so welcoming. As you've already seen, they will want you to pay in blood for no greater crime than being a Lowlander."
"Why are they so angry? What grudge do they bear the Lowlands?" Solas asked.
"Gurd Harofsen brought his people with him some years ago after the Blight destroyed their original Hold." The Thane answered. "There was plenty of room and gam for both our clans so we were friendly. But anger flows in Harofsen's veins like a disease and he's infected all who survived from his Hold, and seeks vengeance on those who let his clan die. To avenge a wrong is a good thing, but only fools try to destroy the world doing it."
"If you detest them so much, then why do you tolerate them?" Blackwall inquired.
"They have guest-welcome with us. Our custom and honor dictates that we at least stay out of whatever foolishness their doing, but we cannot interfere. After all, that's their business and they have done no wrong to us." The Avvar chieftain explained.
"Oh, please. I kill jerks like them while on my way to fight real problems. They're nothing to what we normally fight." Rajmael bragged.
"Ha! You've got plenty of spine Inquisitor. I can see why you lead. The people of the Lowlands have little love for your Dalish clans, I am surprised you came to lead their Inquisition and bear the name of their prophetess. How did such a thing occur?" Svarrah asked curiously.
"The hard way, and by no choice of my own." Rajmael answered. "No else was doing anything about the Breach, and I have the means of getting the job done."
"You carry a powerful piece of an ancient wonder, one that even the spirits have forgotten. By elvhen hands it was made, and by an elf's hand it is wielded. Your ancestors must be smiling at you in the spirit world." The other Avvar woman spoke. Her bright eyes looking intently at the Inquisitor.
"How could you know that?"
"Forgive my poor manners, Inquisitor." Thane Sun-Hair bade. "This is Siobahn Skin-Changer, the Auger of Bear-Hold, our kin to the north. She is here to ensure any aide we might need in the coming winter and to exchange knowledge with our Auger. She's had much interaction with Lowlanders and can help you better understand our ways."
"I've got a quick question." Varric interrupted. "What's with these weird titles some of you people carry? Are they nicknames, honorifics, what?"
"You mean our legend-marks? The thane returned. "They are names that we earn for deeds that we've done. Legends that mark the accomplishment that we will be remembered for during the rest of our lives, and after our lives end. Perhaps you may earn one yourself while you're here."
"I guess that makes sense, but why are you called Sun-Hair?" Varric questioned.
The Thane sighed despondently at the memory of it. "Years ago during a battle my hair was on fire."
"You lit your own hair on fire?!"
"An enemy archer lit my hair on fire." Svarrah clarified. "I was locked with shields against another enemy and couldn't douse it. My hair was long enough for me to ignore it until after the battle. It stank worse than goat shit, though!"
"And why is she called Siobahn Skin-Changer?"
"Because I am one, Stone-Child." Siobahn answered. "If ye wish to know more of this land and the magic that dwells here, come speak with me in the Auger's hut." The sultry auger's eyes marveled at Rajmael like he was made of solid gold. "And please, bring ye attractive friend with ye." Almost everyone's eyes were glued to her, and her swaying hips, as she swaggered out of the cave.
"Well, Inquisitor, if a lady asks, then I must oblige. Let's go talk to her before we leave." Dorian chuckled. "After all she did want the attractive one to come with you."
"What're you talking about, she obviously talking about the most exotic one in the room. And let's face it, what's more exotic than me?" Iron Bull stated and started flexing his muscles braggingly.
"Oh, no arguments here, Bull. But I think the lady knows true beauty when she sees it." Dorian argued jokingly.
"You're both daft!" Sera giggled. "Neither youse is her type. But me? I am, ooh, and she's definitely mine."
"There's no need to argue!" Siobahn called, peering her pretty head back to the cave. "I was talking about the actual attractive one. The one with sword and perfect cheekbones." Everyone was shocked to see her point to Cassandra. The Seeker was most surprised of all. "If ye bring her to my tent, I'll gladly fulfill any curiosity you might have."
Blackwall coughed uncomfortably to break the silence. "Well, Seeker, it seems you attract all types."
Cassandra stood stiff and silent with a look of surprise on her face. "I...I don't know if I should be flattered or frightened."
"Take it as a compliment, dear." Vivienne insisted. "If these savages can see what beauty lies under all that armor, then there's no reason why the rest of the world shouldn't."
Dozens of thoughts were going through Rajmael's mind right now and most of them involved Cassandra and were very dirty, but he had to focus on what mattered right now. "Ahem. Er, we need a boat to get to the island in the middle of the lake. I was told to ask for your permission."
"Ah, Arvid. He worries like a baby goat." Svarrah Sun-Hair sighed. "Tell him that I give you my blessing. You may use our boats to sail to the Island of The Lady."
"Thank you, Thane Sun-Hair. We'll depart soon."
"Please, help yourselves to any supplies and aid we can give." Thane Sun-Hair bade, her voice serious and grim. "And Inquisitor, be careful. Gurd Harofsen and his Jaws of Hakkon may be brutes, but there is something dark and profane in their souls. Whatever they're planning could mean great destruction for your people."
"Don't worry Thane Sun-Hair. Killing heretical cults and savage fanatics is my specialty." Rajmael laughed.
"Then I will pray to Korth Mountain-Father and The Lady of The Skies for your victory. May you find what you seek."
Author's Note:
Once again, I'm sorry it took so long to update. My personal life is busy, the holidays are fast approaching and I've been busy playing Trespasser.
I will be working all my available free time to getting the next chapter posted.
And for those of you who don't know who Siobahn is, I highly recommend you go back and read my previous story "I am Aedan of Highever!"
Please Read, Review and Enjoy.