March of The Inquisition
It had been less than a week since Rajmael's return from Wycome in the Free Marches. A mere few days since Junnarel's death from being poisoned by red lyrium, and it still didn't feel real to Rajmael. Everyone did their best not to broach the subject and respect their leader's loss, for they all knew that the loss of the man who saved Rajmael's life and took him in as a son still tore him up inside. But the Inquisitor couldn't let his grief get the better of him. Not now, not when they were so close. First he would bury Corypheus and all his Venatori, then he would mourn everything he lost.
Rajmael stood in the War Room with his Council, never before had any of them seen the Inquisitor's face so grim. It was time to end this.
"What news of Corypheus and his forces?" Rajmael finally asked.
"They are reeling from their losses." Cullen answered gladly. "Being cut off from their supply of Red Lyrium, their failure at the Winter Palace, and without their army of demons to bolster their strength, Corypheus' forces are running scared."
"My scouts agree." Leliana added. "Our victories have shaken his disciples. Some are even fleeing Corypheus' service."
"Corypheus isn't going to go down quietly. He'll try to make one last grab for power to make us and his followers realize his power." Rajmael knew that all too well. "Where are his forces gathering now?"
"After your victory at Adamant, Corypheus uprooted his major strongholds and moved all his forces south to the Arbor Wilds. His army was clearly not ready to flee. We have them on the defensive for once." Josephine answered.
"Then that's where were going. Corypheus has lived long enough, and has brought this world nothing but misery. It's time to finally end his existence." Rajmael spoke with determination.
"What I don't understand is why is Corypheus taking his forces to such a remote area." Josephine voiced in. "I am no battle tactician, but the Arbor Wilds have no strategic value, and it takes him far from his objectives. Why risk taking all his forces there only to make them an easy target?"
"Corypheus has been sending his people to ransack elven ruins. Perhaps he seeks something lost there." Leliana suggested.
"There is something there." Rajmael confirmed as he stared down at the Arbor Wilds located on the War Map with a grim intensity in his eyes. "There is a ruin there, beyond ancient, and even during the time when my people ruled the Dales we never set foot near it. No one knows why, but the Keepers have always said that that forest is beyond sacred, and must never be invaded. Whatever resides there, no one, not even my own people, trespass there and come back out alive."
"You are quite correct, though I doubt Corypheus shares or even respects your superstitions. But perhaps I can help you determine what Corypheus actually seeks." A smooth voice with the cold embrace of winter spoke.
Rajmael was quite surprised to see Lady Morrigan standing right behind him, and he couldn't help but feel concerned. Morrigan didn't make it a habit of intruding on meetings or even leaving her son or whatever mysterious project she had unattended. "I suppose this is the part where you surprise all of us with the earth-shattering truth of whatever is you've been working on. Right, Morrigan?"
"Quite astute of you, Inquisitor." Morrigan chuckled. "However...'t'would be best if I should you."
Morrigan motioned the Inquisitor to follow her. Both the apostate mages made their way to the private room Morrigan had taken for herself, where she worked tirelessly on whatever secret thing she hid behind this door. And now Rajmael would finally see what she kept hidden in here. When Morrigan opened the door Rajmael could scarcely believe his own eyes when he saw what was there. A mirror, taller than any he had ever seen, even in Orlais. The frame and borders of it were inscribed with powerful magic runes, and it's surface held no reflection, but held a distorted surface like a frozen ripple in a lake.
Morrigan looked upon the mirror with awe and pride. "This is what I have been working on. It is called..."
"...An eluvian. A magic mirror created by my ancestors in the time of Arlathan." Rajmael finished. "A relic of great power. I've only ever heard of one that actually functions."
"I am surprised that you know of it. It took me years just to learn of their existence." Morrigan admitted somewhat impressed.
"Don't insult me, Morrigan. I was the First of my clan before I was the Inquisitor, I know the magic and power my people once held." Rajmael stated sternly. "What I don't know is how you have one, one that works even. When Tevinter ransacked the ancient capital, this was amongst the first things they plundered. I thought all had been destroyed."
"Many of them had been. It took the better part of ten years for me to restore this one, and at great cost." Morrigan answered, marveling at the product of her labor. "But another one lies within the Arbor Wilds, one that is fully functional. That is what Corypheus seeks."
"How do you know this, Morrigan?"
"I've found legends of the ruins you mentioned. An ancient temple left untouched by the humans who destroyed the elven empire. A temple built for the honor and glory of Mythal." Morrigan explained. "I've found the path that led there far too dangerous to approach, and thus I turned elsewhere for my prize. If Corypheus succeeds where I failed, he could claim the eluvian for himself and find the power he seeks."
"What could this give him that the orb he possesses cannot?" Rajmael stared at the Anchor in his hand.
Morrigan held her hands before the mirror. The eluvian came to life in burst of magic, it's surface now shimmered like the surface of water and shimmered with magic. "There better question is 'Where would it lead him?'."
Morrigan walked through the mirror as easily as an open doorway and the shimmering blue portal accepted her. Rajmael had never seen such magic before. He took a deep breath and followed her through the looking glass.
~XoXoXo~
Rajmael felt like he hadn't even taken a step forward and found himself on the other side of the mysterious portal. The Inquisitor and the Chasind woman stood in the middle of an alien realm, familiar yet so incredibly different from anything they knew. The artificial trees always found in elven ruins and even more eluvians, some still dormant and few active, all stood in infinite rows that seemed to go on forever in this strange place.
There was no sun here, but it was bright as day. Rajmael could see flickers of colors sparkling all through the air, like the light was being reflected through a thousand shards of broken glass. It was beyond beautiful. The Arcane Warrior could feel the magic in this strange realm saturating into his skin, like this place was created completely made of it. It was almost like the Fade, yet he was not dreaming.
"What is this place?" Rajmael asked in awe.
"If this place once had a name, it has long been lost." Morrigan informed quietly as Rajmael gazed at the scenery. "I call it the Crossroads. A place where all the eluvians converge...wherever they might be. The ancient elves left no roads, only ruin in far flung corners of the world. This was how they traveled between them. As you can see, most of the mirrors are dark: shattered, corrupted or unstable. As for the rest...a few can be opened from this side, but only a few."
"This place...it's beyond anything I have ever seen. It feels like the Fade, but it's not. It's constructed." Rajmael observed. "It is as if my ancestors took the magic of the world and created a dimension in between."
"A pocket realm between the fabric of time and space, perhaps." Morrigan agreed.
"All these light...these colors. It's beautiful! Like I was colorblind before coming here." Rajmael marveled. "Like all my life I've been living in the dark."
"Colors? I don't understand." Morrigan said confused. "I see no colors or light. To me, it's like seeing a dimly lit mist. Perhaps 'tis because you are elven?"
"Elven eyes see differently than humans. And this place was created long before the existence of humans. It reacts differently to elves." Rajmael reasoned. He could feel his own magic connecting to this place like it was a natural reflex. It was as if this place was in tuned with his own heartbeat. "But...the magic here...it's not stable. Dying. Soon this place will eventually collapse on itself. If my ancestors were capable of creating this place..."
"It seems remarkable, almost impossible, that the ancient Tevinter Imperium was able to challenge them, yes." Morrigan agreed. "For now, this place still has value."
"Why did you find this place? What value could it have for you?"
"It offered sanctuary." The witch answered nostalgically with an unfamiliar tone of happiness in her voice. "A respite with Aedan, a place where we could raise our son together. It was the happiest I had ever been. But...one can only remain between the worlds for so long. And we both had our duties beckon us."
"And this is what Corypheus is after. Access to the eluvians." Rajmael realized. "A way to enter the Fade without needing the Anchor."
"Access to the eluvians is not enough. One must have the right key, or the eluvians could lead him to any number of places and take him nowhere. One must have a key in order to unlock their destination."
"And I take it you have such a key."
Morrigan nodded her head. "The key to any eluvian is different. Unlocking even a single one requires tremendous knowledge and power, of which I have both. But I suspect Corypheus' knowledge and power outstrips mine, and with the right eluvian, he just may find the path to walk physically into the Fade that he so desperately desires."
"This cannot be allowed to happen. Corypheus has already perverted the artifacts and knowledge of my people to do immeasurable harm. He cannot be allowed to succeed and unleash something he knows nothing of."
"He has learned of the eluvian hidden in the Arbor Wilds, as I did. He marshals the last of his forces there to reach it." Morrigan led Rajmael back to the exit. "You have driven him to desperation. We must work together to stop him, and soon. Otherwise, everything we've both worked for will be destroyed along with this world."
Rajmael took one last look at the Crossroads, this dimension between dimensions. This strange place, and all it's magnificent colors and magic, a testament to the power and ingenuity of his once mighty ancestors. Rajmael could not let Corypheus befoul or bastardize the legacy of his people any further. He must not be allowed to befoul the Temple of Mythal.
~XoXoXo~
Rajmael returned to the War Room and informed Leliana, Cullen and Josephine everything he had just learned. To say that they were shocked by such revelations would be a monumental understatement.
"With an eluvian, Corypheus could cross into the Fade into the flesh?" Leliana questioned disbelievingly.
"Indeed." Morrigan confirmed. "The Inquisitor can attest to the power of these relics, if one knows how to use them."
"And what happens when Corypheus enters the Fade?" Cullen asked.
"Why, he finishes what he started two thousand years ago, and gains his heart's desire, and taking his place as a god." The witch answered almost sardonically. "Or, and this is more likely, the lunatic unleashes forces that will rip this world apart."
"I've already seen what he will do if he is allowed to succeed. We cannot allow that to happen." Rajmael determined, recalling the hellish future he saw in Redcliffe.
"Pardon me." Josephine entered. "But does this mean that all is lost we get to this eluvian before him?"
"Corypheus already has a head start, no matter how quickly our army moves." Cullen realized. "He's turned his defeat into his advantage."
"Should we not call on our allies before calling a forced march?" Josephine suggested.
"Can we afford to wait for them?" Leliana countered calmly. "We should send our spies ahead to the Arbor Wilds."
"Without support from the soldiers? We'd lose half of them before we even arrive!" Cullen ridiculed the notion.
"Then what should we do?" Josephine asked worryingly.
"The first thing we do is calm down. We cannot let Corypheus' actions cloud our judgment not, not when we are so close." Rajmael intervened calmly. "Josephine, gather our allies and have them send scouts to meet us in the Wilds, make sure that Marquis Briala and her spies are there. Leliana, send your fastest agents to meet with them. Auger Siobahn and her Avvar would be perfect for this mission. I'm sure she and Scout Harding would be glad to see each other again. Together, we'll have enough spies to slow down Corypheus' forces until Cullen's soldiers arrive."
"That still won't be enough, Inquisitor." Cullen informed morosely. "Our forces are still reeling from the battle at Adamant. Many of our soldiers are still wounded, and many more are spread out across the strongholds and posts we have all over the South."
"Then call for Empress Celene and her army. It's time to call in the favors she owes me." Rajmael answered.
"After saving her throne, I believe she will be more than happy oblige you." Josephine smiled.
"Well said, Inquisitor. I dare say your authority reminds me of Aedan." Morrigan complimented honestly. "But 'tis not enough. The Arbor Wilds are not kind to outsiders. Ancient, powerful elven magicks linger in those woods."
"We would be remiss to not take full advantage of your knowledge in this matter, Lady Morrigan. Please, lend us your expertise." Josephine beguiled politely.
"'Tis why I came here, although it is good to see its value recognized." Morrigan responded.
"Any further instructions, Inquisitor?" Cullen asked.
Rajmael looked upon his Councilors with determination in his eyes and steel in his voice. "Ever since this started, we've been on the defensive. We've been the victims of Corypheus and his venatori. Haven, Halamshiral, Adamant. Every action he's taken has caused suffering, and we've had to stop it. But now he's on the defensive, we have him cornered. Once we stop him here, he'll realize just how mortal he truly is, and we can finally put this nightmare to rest. Gather our forces, and make them ready. Corypheus must not reach that temple."
"We will make Corypheus pay for every crime he has committed." Cullen promised.
"Get Cassandra and the others ready, we leave immediately. I am going to make some last minute preparations."
~XoXoXo~
Rajmael made his way to the Undercroft beneath the Keep. There were only a couple of items he required here before he would be ready to depart in earnest. Rajmael saw the master of this forging domain wearing a welding helmet and was plying her craft to a suit of armor with a rod of fire burning brightly in her hand.
"Oh! Inquisitor, you're here." Arcanist Dagna chirped in surprise. She lifted the visor from her face, revealing that bubbly smile of hers. "I heard the news flying through the keep. Are you really about to launch a final assault on Corypheus?"
"That's right, Dagna. Which is why I'm here. Is it ready?"
"Oh, yes. Just let me grab it." The redheaded surface dwarf skipped over to her trunk, humming to herself. Dagna grabbed the item she was looking for, a small, tightly sealed box with complicated locks holding it shut and brought it over to the Inquisitor. She carefully opened the lid and revealed its content to Rajmael.
Rajmael looked upon the weapon Dagna had forged for him for exactly this occasion. A large rune depicting a downward sword betwixt two serpentine dragons rampart with their tails curled at the tip of the sword. The rune had a sickly aura about it that was obvious to anyone with magic or Stone Sense. The rune was forged entirely out of pure red lyrium.
"Are you sure that this is safe to use, Dagna?"
"Lyrium of any variety is dangerous, Inquisitor, but when properly processed and forged, it will do exactly what it was designed to do." A proud smile beamed across Dagna's face. "And as the first dwarven Arcanist, I am proud to say that this is the first rune ever made from red lyrium. It will shatter Samson's armor like glass."
"Perfect." Rajmael carefully took the one of a kind rune and secured it in his pack.
A concerned look came over Dagna's face as she watched the Inquisitor tuck her masterpiece away. "But Inquisitor? Are you sure you want to take this now? This is the only one in existence and I don't think we have time for me to forge another."
"With the last of Corypheus' forces gathered in the Arbor Wilds, he doesn't have the luxury of using only his fodder, he'll send his best. And Samson will do whatever it takes to please his master. I know he'll be there." Rajmael answered knowingly. "And the other item I asked you to look after?"
Dagna walked back to her trunk and grabbed the item in question."Yes, of course. I took the liberty to have it cleaned, but it was remarkable well preserved. The craftsmanship used is simply wonderful."
Dagna presented an artifact carefully wrapped in a swath of Great Bear hide and revealed the elven blade Evanura. The sword carried with it a bloody and violent history. Forged in the Temple of June in the time of the Elven Dales, this sword was wielded by the Emerald Knights to defend the elven borders. The last Emerald Knight to wield this blade was Lindrinae, who was killed during the Exalted March in the last battle during the Exalted March on the Dales. Rajmael discovered the blade resting under Lindrinae's Vallasdahlen in the Emerald Graves. Evanura was the sword for which Rajmael's first love was named after. It was also one of the swords that he used to kill Nethras, his adopted brother and Evanura's husband. Now Rajmael would wield it and the Enasalin to bring an end Corypheus' putrid existence.
Later, In The Arbor Wilds
Scout Harding silently led her men through the brush and shadows of the forest. She didn't know what it was, but something about this place made her uneasy, and it wasn't just the Red Templars and Venator, she could handle those just fine. No, something else was creeping her out. Even when she was in Crestwood and the Fallow Mire with all the undead walking around, and everywhere she was sent with Rifts and demons, she did not feel this nervous. She had this weird, guilty feeling that she was trespassing in someone's home, and that she was being watched. But that was impossible, no one could sneak up on her. Right?
Harding and her men were tasked by the Spymaster to hobble the Elder One's army's movement. It was basic saboteur stuff. Kill the enemy scouts, thin the ranks as they moved, take out their supply lines. Make it easier for the Inquisition army and allies could assemble on the field. And crippling an army moving on a forced march was the most ideal assignment for any accomplished scout. A forced march was always any military force's worst nightmare. Having to move a multitude of men without stop, risking fatigue before the battle even began, and often with limited supplies. Given how much the Inquisition crippling the Red Templars operations, Harding was surprised they even had boots on their feet.
They closed in another hastily made encampment. Harding silently signaled her men to carry out their assignments: they would go find whatever red lyrium storages that were stored here, and blow it up. While they did that, Harding would sneak through the tents and see if she could gather any useful information. Orders, troop movements, plans, that sort of thing. Harding was exceptionally well suited to sabotage and information gathering, and not just because she was tried. Turns out, small was good. It made her hard to notice and could sneak through enemy camps without them ever knowing it. It's good to be a dwarf.
Security around the camps didn't seem to be a high priority for these Templars. They were too focused on trying to get wherever it was they were going to be concerned with anything else. Whatever it was they were trying to reach, it must have been pretty damned important for them to just discard basic camp security.
A loud explosion erupted from the south end of the camp which shook the ground. Her men just got done blowing up one their lyrium cashes. Harding waited behind a bush as Red Templar Captain and his men ran out of their tents to go inspect the chaos. While they were busy with that, she'd go see what they left lying around the tent.
There wasn't much here. Some lyrium vials, a whetstone and some extra weapons. A forced march doesn't exactly give you a lot of time to pack things. Then Harding found exactly what she was looking for: papers. A map that pinpointed the place the Red Templars were trying to reach. It was a lot deeper in the forest than she thought. And there was another paper, too. An official-looking letter.
To all captains of the Red Templars:
We're not stopping to deal with these elven fanatics. Press forward, post more guards, and handle the ambushes as they come. Finding the Temple of Mythal is our first and only task. Once I become the Vessel, our Master can finally claim the power waiting for him; no elves, no city, no nation will be a match for a living god.
This is the day we've bled for. The Inquisition and Orlesians are snapping at our heels, and you've sacrificed more than anyone should ask, but if we fall here, the deaths of your brothers and sisters meant nothing. I won't let that happen. I know none of you will, either.
For the glory of the Elder One,
General Samson.
Orders from Samson himself? The Templars knew the Inquisition was hot on their trails, they must be getting desperate to continue pushing the way they were. But what was this talk about elven fanatics? Was the Inquisitor's Dalish tribesman out here as well? Wait. This note gave orders about posting more guards and being ready for ambushes. That meant this place wasn't as defenseless as she thought...
"Turn around slowly, Inquisition scum!" A deep, gravely voice ordered.
Harding obeyed. There were four Templar guards, all in a state of mutation from the red lyrium, and all armed with swords. This could get interesting.
"Scouts never work alone, we need to find her cohorts." The captain ordered.
They only found her. Good. It means the others weren't here anymore.
"Look at this boys! The Inquisition sends a dwarven runt to do a man's job!" One of the Templars mocked, getting a laugh out of his compatriots.
Now they made it just a little bit personal. "Okay, now you see that, that wasn't very nice." Harding threw the stiletto she had hidden in her sleeve faster than they could blink right into the laughing Templar's groin. The Templar fell to his knees screaming in such high pitch he could have shattered glass. The captain yelled in anger and tried to cut her down with his sword. Harding easily dashed behind him and cut his hamstrings with the other stiletto she had, bringing down to his knees then slitting his throat.
Harding grabbed her bow and did a running jump off the kneeling Templar she castrated, launching herself high in the air above the remaining Templars. Airborne, and with her bow in hand, she quickly launched two arrows with astonishing speed and accuracy, shooting both the Templars right in the visors of their helmets. The arrowheads went through their eyes and out the back of their heads.
All that remained now was the screaming emasculated Templar. He coughed up some blood, and found Harding looking down on him, with an arrow pointed at his face. "Who's the runt now?" Was the last thing the Templar heard before the scout's arrow flew right between his eyes.
Harding did her best not to giggle like an idiot. That the first one-liner she said during a mission, like something out of Hard in Hightown. But the pat on the back would have to wait until later. She had to get back with her men and rendezvous with the Inquisition's forces. They needed to know what the Templars' movements were and where they were headed. And who knows, maybe she could catch up with a certain Avvar Shaman before the real battle started?
The Inquisition War Camp, Arbor Wilds...
The Dragon Age was defined by the battles that had changed the course of history. First when King Maric drove Orlais from his country and again when his son King Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden vanquished the Blight. Not since that crucial moment ten years ago in Denerim had so many from such different backgrounds gathered in one place to fight a common enemy. Leliana, Cullen and Josephine sent out the call to all that would hear, and many answered. Avvar Tribesman, Orlesian Chevaliers, Rebel Mages, and Inquisition soldiers from every race and walk of life came to this unforgiving woodland to determine the fate of their future.
The combined armies gathered almost right into the heart of the Arbor Wilds. These primordial woods were as dense as the mountains and twice as treacherous. The trees were titanic in size, the canopy barely letting the sun in and the covering the forest floor in shadow. There had always been tales of a lost city filled with ancient treasures hidden in deep within this forest, but in all those centuries not a soul has ever found proof of such claims. Not for lack of those brave, greedy or foolish enough, no. But because any and all who ventured into this place was never seen again, as if they had been simply erased from existence. And now, there were two armies fighting right in the middle of it.
While the main host of their army was engaging the bulk of Corypheus' forces, Rajmael and his Councilors were giving last minute orders to their people. Rajmael was quite surprised to see both Empress Celene and Marquis Briala at his camp with their forces. Josephine was speaking with both of them, giving them assurances about the battle. Briala wore a simple Lincoln green leather jerkin and pants to blend in with the forest surroundings and was armed with a deadly pair of stilettos. Celene, on the other hand, was wearing the same satin blue gown and mask she wore at the Winter Palace, much to Rajmael's disbelief.
"Your faith in your Commander is well placed, Ambassador. Victory is all but insight." Celene complimented confidently.
"With Orlais' Imperial Guard at our side, it was never in doubt, Your Grace." Josephine assured. "But would it not be wise for you and the Marquis to move further from the field? Corypheus has been sighted in the fray."
"Dear Lady Montilyet, the Marquis and I cannot send our subject where we ourselves fear to tread." Celene insisted gracefully. "All of Thedas will see Orlais stand triumphant with the Chosen of Andraste."
"I am not the Chosen of Andraste." Rajmael half growled. "That's just wishful thinking on behalf of those who exchanged one symbol of false hope for another."
"Ah, Inquisitor, it is good to see you once more." Celene greeted. Briala nodded her head in respect for Rajmael. "Despite what you believe, or don't believe, it is good to finally see the Inquisition's purpose fulfilled."
"Yes. I am eager to finally put this behind me." Rajmael agreed dourly. "Josephine, if the fighting get any closer, I want you to move everyone back. Keep them away from the fighting."
"Of course, Inquisitor. Good luck."
Morrigan stood at the edge of the camp with the rest of the Inquisitor's followers. She watched as her former benefactor exchanged words with the Inquisitor. "'Tis quite remarkable. Here in the midst of battle against one of the greatest threats to all of Thedas, far from the comforts and confines of the court, and Celene still intentionally wears such outlandish garments. Does she think she can walk a battlefield as easily as a ballroom?"
"Be it a battlefield, a ballroom, or a pit of vipers, a true leader is capable of walking anywhere with dignity and grace, though I doubt that is something you could learn in a cold swamp." Vivienne slighted with cold indifference and poise.
"Ah, Madame de Fer. It is quite comforting to hear the subtle barbs of your tongue. It reminds me so much of my childhood." Morrigan chuckled. "Though your barbs don't possess the same sting I am accustomed to."
"I am sure an uncouth apostate such as yourself is used to squalor and spite. Being in the court must have presented such a challenge for your limited expertise." Vivienne continued tauntingly. "It's a wonder Celene ever tolerated you in the first place."
"Hah. Perhaps 'tis cause the Empress values true experience and accomplishment, and not just the false ones so easily found in the Orlesian Court." Morrigan countered. "Given how little you've actually participated in anything that didn't involve sipping wine, or being in a married man's bed, I'm surprised the Inquisitor has found any use for you at all. Though you may want to consider less strenuous activities. You have more wrinkles about your face than last we met."
That last comment snapped Vivienne's famous cold façade and angry fire lit up in her eyes.
Fearing a fatality between the two powerful lady mages before they even entered the battlefield, Varric decided to use his famous charm to diffuse the situation before these two had a magic-powered catfight that would leave them all standing in a crater.
"So, uh, you're the famous witch who fought at the Hero of Ferelden's side, right?" Varric interrupted urgently.
Morrigan smugly turned her attention from the Iron Lady to the dwarven author. "Yes, I did. 'Twas one of my...proudest accomplishments. Though it wasn't my first or last." That last sentence carried an air of condensation, and Morrigan eyed Vivienne with a smug look on her face.
"No kidding. You know, Hawke and I met the Hero of Ferelden back in Kirkwall, before that mess with the Templars came to a head." Varric chuckled. "That encounter left quite an impression."
Morrigan quirked an eyebrow, knowing full well Varric's reputation for telling tales, and spinning lies. "Really? Somehow, I find that difficult to believe, storyteller."
"So do I." Cassandra glowered Varric with a criticizing eye. "I find it difficult to believe that you omitted this tale when we first met."
"It's true, I'll vouch for him." Cullen added honestly. "Trust me, that's not an encounter you could ever forget."
"And how is it that you failed to mention this particular tale, Varric?" Cassandra questioned.
"Well, there was a lot on my mind, Seeker." Varric shrugged off. "For example, there was you kidnapping me, interrogating me for information, then interrupting me when I started telling you bits you didn't like. And besides...I was actually trying really hard to forget some parts of that encounter."
"Ah, I see." Morrigan laughed. She looked at Cullen and Varric both with a look of deep curiosity. "Tell me, what kind of impression did my lo-...former comrade leave from his time in Kirkwall?"
Varric and Cullen both shared a look of dread as a collective chill crawled up their spine at the mere memory of that encounter. Just thinking about threatened to give them nightmares.
"Well, he, uh, ahem...almost cleaved my skull in half." Cullen admitted apprehensively.
Varric shook his head, looking as though he just woke from a terrible nightmare. "I...really don't want to talk about it. It took me a while to shake the nightmares from my dreams, and I don't want to relive them."
"Ah, yes. Now that does sound like Aedan." Morrigan laughed. "He does tend to leave such an impression on people."
"Right now I wish we had the Hero of Ferelden right now. I'm sure he'd just rip the Red Templars apart with his bare hands cut Corypheus' head off with a butter knife." Rajmael interjected sarcastically. "But since he isn't, we're just going to have to make do."
"Inquisitor." Morrigan addressed. "I take it by your presence here that we are ready to depart?"
"Yes. We are." Rajmael motioned his entire inner circle to gather around and here what their next critical move was going to be.
"My agents have confirmed that there is indeed a temple further into the woods." Leliana informed. "I've also received scattered reports that Corypheus himself is trying to make his way there."
"Then there is no room for error." Cullen determined. "While our main forces draw Corypheus' army away from him, the Inquisitor and his company will make straight for the Temple."
"We only have a token force to help us hold back Corypheus' soldiers, and we don't have time to fight in the battle. We must reach the temple and stop Corypheus here if we are to turn the tide of battle in our favor." Cassandra spoke with that fire in her eyes.
"The ballistaes will keep most of the Venatori and Red Templars from doubling back and flanking us, but if they're not careful they'll do the enemies work for us." Blackwall pointed out.
"I hope you're right about this temple, Lady Morrigan. I could use a building or two." Dorian commented longingly.
"Do the woods make you nervous, Pavus?" Morrigan teased.
"It's mostly the things in the woods that are trying to kill us that make me nervous." Dorian answered. "Coupled with the fact that no one who has entered this forest has ever come back out again. So cities spell safety to me."
"Yeah, I'm with him." Sera added nervously. "Cities with loads of pockets and places to hide, good. Evil magic forest that eats people, not good."
"We've already dealt with the demon army and corrupted Wardens at Adamant, I doubt whatever is in this forest can be any worse than that." Rajmael reasoned confidently. At the moment he couldn't think of anything that was worse than the Nightmare and it's demon army being led by some of the best warriors and tacticians in all of Thedas. What in these woods could possibly be worse than them? "Corypheus already has a head start on us. We have to get moving now."
One of the sergeants in the ballista units approached the Inquisitor with a respected salute. "Inquisitor!"
"How goes the battle, captain?"
"We've got the bastards on the run, my lord. Soon there won't be any Red Templars left standing." The captain informed. "Our scouts saw Corypheus moving towards an elven ruin in the north. We can clear you a path straight to him."
"Then now is the time to move. Get the trebuchets ready. We're going now."
"At one, my lord. May Andraste's grace guide you." The captain saluted before running off to man her post.
Morrigan watched the captain resume her duty and looked at the Inquisitor with a curious glint in her eyes. "I wonder: does Andraste your soldiers invoke while in battle, or does a more immediate name come to their lips?"
"That thought bothers me more than you think, Morrigan." Rajmael answered satirically. "Being the object of a faith that is not my own is like they are forgetting that my loyalty is to my own people's culture."
"Given what the loyalist fools of the Chantry have done to your people, I can hardly blame you. I certainly wouldn't want to be revered by pious sheep." Morrigan disdained. "And I am sure that you're more likely to come to their aid than a Chantry fable, but I digress. The Temple of Mythal awaits us."
The Inquisitor and his allies made their way into the thick forest, trying to move as quickly as they could and avoid direct confrontation to reach the temple. Inquisition soldiers battling Red Templars while Rebel Mages engaged the Venatori. The intensity of the battle between the two factions shook the whole forest. Sounds of steel clashing and men dying echoed off the trees as columns of acrid black smoke billowed over the canopy, and freshly spilt blood polluted the streams on the forest floor.
Despite the immediate danger, Rajmael couldn't help but feel that there was something else here. As though there was something else walking around in this forest. Rajmael had spent his whole life living in the wild, and always felt free. But here? He felt like he was an unwelcome guest in another's home.
"Just out of curiosity, Lady Morrigan, how did you learn of the temple in this forest?" Dorian asked curiously, trying to keep his mind off the impending danger. "I doubt finding lost ancient elven ruins is so easy that you can just make a hobby out of it."
"My travels and studies have taken me to many places thought lost or forgotten. And I have always had a keen interest in lost knowledge and the power of the ancient elves."
Solas' eyes squinted harshly as he stared at the witch closely.
"Indeed, my knowledge outstrips the Dalish when it comes to researching lost secrets of the Arcane..."
"For someone who claims to have such a keen interest in the ancient knowledge of my ancestors, you certainly approach the subject with the same arrogance as most humans, Morrigan." Rajmael interrupted, offended. "You may have an interest in my ancestors, and you're interested in the value of their knowledge, but you care seem to care very little about the price."
"Maybe you two can have this philosophical debate when these guys are too dead to try and kill us!" Iron Bull hollered as he charged down a large group of Red Templars and Venatori that were in their way. Inquisition soldier were engaging them, but they were outnumbered. The Bull would turn the tide in their favor.
The muscle-bound ox-man charged headlong into the fray, swinging his enormous axe with full force at the servants of Corypheus. Like a hedge clipper to weeds, he cut them down with ease.
"Eat this, lyrium-lickers!" Sera cackled. She knocked three arrows into her bow string and shot them straight between the eyes of three Spellbinders, preventing them from casting any spells.
"Bet Bianca and I can shoot more of these guys than you can, Buttercup." Varric wagered laughing.
"You're on!"
Cassandra used her Seeker abilities to ignite the red lyrium growths on several Red Templar Horrors, making the crystals explode before finishing them while they screamed in agony. The Seeker charged in with a shield bash, crushing the remaining red lyrium clusters on his body, then jammed the edge of her shield into his neck, crushing his larynx.
Dorian and Vivienne unleashed an onslaught of ice and fire spells on the Venatori mages while Solas laid out a protective barrier around their allies. The Venatori targets soon found them selves burnt to a crisp and frozen into brittle statues that were quickly shattered.
When the Inquisition soldiers saw their leader and his companions turning the fight in their favor renewed their vigor.
"For the Herald!"
"Long live the Inquisition!"
"Death to the Elder One!"
"Ha! Boss, this is almost too easy! Look, they're bugging out!" Iron Bull laughed, pulling his axe out of a Venatori Brute while the rest of them fell back. Bull was so distracted by the ease of his victory that he didn't see the massive silverite hammerhead swinging at him. Fortunately, it wasn't in his blindspot and Bull was able to roll with the hit. But he was definitely seeing some stars now.
A squad of heavily armed and armored men stood strong to halt the Inquisitor's advance to the temple. All of them wearing masterfully crafted silverite armor bearing the crest of the Griffon.
Rajmael could scarcely believe his own eyes. "Wardens!"
No longer held back by a sense of false brotherhood, and knowing full well what had become of these once valiant men, Blackwall charged the Warden who struck Iron Bull with that hammer. The Warden smashed his weapon down on Blackwall, but was blocked by the face of his shield. Blackwall deflected the hammer to the side and swiped his mace to the unarmored joint on the side of the Warden's knee, smashing all the bone and tissue into gravel. The Warden screamed in agony beneath his visor as he fell to his now broken knee. Blackwall reared back his mace, and with one more powerful swing to the man's head, he busted through the silverite helmet and skull, silencing him.
Cole dashed past several Wardens, he moved so quickly it was like they were only blinking. His daggers glided through the chink in the Warden's armor between their breastplate and helmet with masterful precision. Waves crimson erupted from beneath their visors when Cole sliced open their corarted arteries and jugular veins, and dropped to the ground dead.
It had been a very long time since Morrigan had partaken in battle. Not since those days when she fought side-by-side with her beloved Aedan had she been in the midst of such intense fighting. But Morrigan was not one to just stand by while others fought. She focused her magic inward, sought out the form she desired. Remembered its nature, its soul, the very essence of its being. The Witch sprang into the air and landed back on to the ground in the form of a dreaded giant spider. With her many eyes, legs like spears, pincers that could rend armor, and shooting toxic venom and sticky webbing, the Chasing shapeshifter came down upon the screaming Wardens like something out of a nightmare.
"Oh, holy friggin'...! That ain't right!" Sera shouted, aghast and pale at the sight of Morrigan mauling their enemy.
With Evanura in his left hand and Enasalin in his right, Rajmael's Shimmering aura enveloped him, and charged the taint-corrupted knights. Knowing who their primary target was, five Wardens attacked the elven Inquisitor all at once with their silverite longswords. All three Wardens moved with the skill and technique of master swordsmen, but Rajmael was on a different level entirely, wielding both his swords as though it were as natural as breathing. His style was a magnificent amalgam of grace, ferocity and magical mastery. Rajmael's skill was so great, that he was pushing his attackers back instead of the other way around. Now with two swords in his hands, Rajmael could attack and defend simultaneously, giving his enemies now room to even react. They attacked, he parried and counter-attacked. As they withdrew he advanced.
The Inquisitor phased past the first Warden, incorporeal as a ghost, cutting his enemy's head off with Evanura. Another corrupted Warden stabbed at the Inquisitor, Rajmael expertly parried and stabbed the man through the chest with Enasalin, the sword's veilfire blade completely bypassing the Warden's armor and jammed outside of his back, skewering him like a piece of meat. The Inquisitor noticed another Warden standing not far behind his dead companion, ready to attack. Rajmael charged his magic through the Enasalin and an arc of lightning shot from the tip of his sword while it was still stuck in the dead man and struck the other Warden in the head. His helmet acted like a conductor for the lightning and made his head explode into chucks of skull, brain and metal.
Two Warden archers knocked their arrows and took aim at the Inquisitor's back flank while his sword was still stuck inside their dead comrade. Rajmael threw Evanura horizontally at the archers. The blade spun rapidly in the air like a buzzsaw and flew straight threw one of the Warden's neck like a flying guillotine, and then arced in midair and flew at the remaining Warden, and separated the upper half of his head from his lower jaw, leaving behind a geyser of blood and his tongue dancing like a snake.
Rajmael extended his hand, and Evanura magically flew back into his grip. He swiped the blood of both his blades, and returned them to their sheaths. Rajmael looked at the dead former Wardens with pity in his eyes. "These Wardens must be all that is left of the ones we fought at Adamant."
"If they are forced to obey Corypheus, then death is a mercy." Cassandra said sympathetically.
Cole looked down at the dead men sadly. "They heard the song. Listened to it until it was all they knew. Let it fill them, consume them. Now it is all they know."
Morrigan reverted back to her human form. "There is no need to feel sorry for these men. They chose to listen to the song of the Calling than to reason, as Warden Stroud had. That it led them to their deaths is no surprise."
"I agree, and we must keep moving." Solas insisted.
"Everyone, keep you guard up. Engage only if necessary. We still need to make it to that temple." Rajmael knew these weren't the only Wardens he was probably going to fight here, and this forest was still crawling with Red Templars and Venatori. Yet that wasn't his main concern at the moment. He still couldn't shake that feeling that there was something else here, like a feeling of forboding when someone trespasses into another's home or walks on a grave. But he couldn't let that stop them. They had to keep moving.
Rajmael and the others pushed further into the forest, engaging Red Templars, Venatori and corrupted Grey Wardens, all servants enslaved to the Elder One. All of them fought with the tenacity and rabid ferocity of blind zealots; eagerly, carelessly throwing their own lives away all for the sake of the walking disease they believed to be a god. But Corypheus wasn't the only one who commanded an army of believers willing to lay down their lives for a cause they believed greater than themselves.
~XoXoXo~
The Inquisitor and his comrades came upon a fortified clearing in the middle of a forest path. This clearing was strategically important because there was a natural path that led closer to the temple. The Red Templars knew how important holding this line was, so they set up a camp here and barricaded it with some heavy defenses. The Inquisition's soldiers arrived and engaged the Templars to give the Inquisitor a path to follow. Except there was one huge problem with this scene: everyone was dead. Red Templars and Inquisition both, their bodies all laid strewn all over the camp with their blood mingling with each others. The path had been turned into a killing field.
"Ashante kaffas..." Dorian gasped at the macabre sight. "What happened here?"
"Look at the bodies..." Iron Bull pointed out. "No way to tell which wound killed them, but judging from the way the bodies are positioned, I'd say they all died where they fought. It came so fast they all died with their eyes open."
"Red Templars and Inquisition soldiers. How could this have happened?" Cassandra questioned aghast and confused.
"They wondered the same thing before they died." Cole said cryptically.
"C'mon, Kid, don't be like that." Varric urged. "Fighting's pretty bad here, maybe they killed each other?"
"Even on the most intense battlefields, there are always survivors from one side or the other." Blackwall reasoned. "Something else is going on here."
"They were even able to bring down several Behemoth Red Templars. Not a small feat." Vivienne added.
"Perhaps this forest isn't as vacant as we once thought." Morrigan said stoically.
Rajmael stared at the bodies of his comrades and enemies alike, wondering what in the world could have killed all of them. Then that strange feeling came over him again, stronger than ever. His skin crawled as the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up, and his pointed ears twitched involuntarily. It felt as though something was watching them. In fact, he knew they were.
"Rajmael? Is something wrong?" Cassandra asked, noticing the bewildered look on his face.
"AMBUSH!"
Dozens of arrows flew out of the treetops and descended on them like rain. Rajmael drew both his swords and slashed a large arc of arcane force at the volley of arrows and deflected them away from all of them. Cassandra's instincts kicked in, and raised her shield to her face, narrowly deflecting the daggers that were throw at her eyes from the forest shadow. The initial attack failed, and all of them stood ready for another wave. The unknown assailants emerged from the shadows, as quiet as leaves falling. And most shockingly of all, All of them, Rajmael most of all, were shocked beyond belief to see that these assassin were actually tattooed elves.
They all wore a set of armor of ancient, unknown yet familiar design. Every one of them was armed with an elegant, but lethal dagger, sharp and hewn enough to cut through flesh, bone and armor like it was paper. They all stood ready to engage the unwelcome invaders.
"Venaves! Ir'a Vhenallin." Rajmael pleaded. He did not want to kill his fellow elves.
"Na'din shemlen!" One of the elven guerrillas snarled, and they all attacked the outsiders who intruded on their forest.
Rajmael had never seen elves like these before, neither amongst his fellow Dalish or city kin. They were faster, stronger, more highly trained than any elf they had ever encountered, almost like the Vir Banal'ras Nethras had trained. But Rajmael and his company were no push-overs, either. And in open field, outnumbered and without the element of surprise, they were the ones who were disadvantaged.
These elves were fast, slippery, and difficult to hit, but armed with those daggers, they had to get really close to their victims in order to be effective. But Rajmael and his companions were amongst the most elite professionals in all of Thedas, and they had already faced the best assassins, most horrid demons, and vile monstrosities. And it was obvious that these strange elves had never fought invaders of this caliber before. They would not back down on.
Outnumbered and outmatched, without any mages our back up to aid them, and refusing to back down, the Inquisitor and his companions made short work of the would-be assassins, much to Rajmael's chagrin. But even he knew that these elves gave them no choice. Rajmael plunged one of his sword through the last strange elf's chest, with deep regret behind his blow. The Inquisitor gently set his fellow elf down as the blood began to run out of his body.
"Lethalin, quenethra?" Rajmael begged.
"Mth...Mythal...Enaste..." The dying elf spoke with his last breath.
Rajmael sighed with deep despondence and closed his fellow elf's eyes out of respect before pulling Evanura out of the elf's chest. "Mythal enaste, lethalin."
"Those weren't like any elves I've ever seen, and I've seen all kinds." Varric stated. "What were they?"
"Did you see those moves they were using? These aren't just some random guerrillas, these were some hardcore stealth fighters." Iron Bull pointed out.
"If Rajmael hadn't sensed them, we'd probably all be dead." Cassandra said with mixed relief and concern.
"But why did they attack us un the first place?" Blackwall inquired.
"It is there home. They fight to conceal it, to protect it." Cole answered sympathetically.
"These people were merely protecting what they've sworn to defend." Solas added, matching Cole's sympathy. "Killing them was...unfortunate."
"Pbbt! Yeah, right!" Sera retorted. "They's the ones who attacked us first. If they didn't want to die, they shouldn't have been so stupid."
"I hardly think you're one to judge the stupidity of others, Sera. Given how little you regard your own." Solas responded, deeply offended.
"Pbbt!" Sera blew her tongue at the elven apostate and stuck two fingers up at his face.
"Perhaps this temple isn't as deserted as we thought." Morrigan confirmed.
"Did you see their face? All of them, they had the same marks, the same Vallaslin." Rajmael pointed out. "They've sworn to honor Mythal."
"Then perhaps they are the Temple's protectors." Morrigan indicated. "Perhaps these creatures are the reason why no one who enters this forest has ever returned."
"Elves, Morrigan. They are elves. Not creatures!" Rajmael clarified with anger in his voice.
"Darling, as much as I would love to see you put this Chasind apostate in her place, perhaps now is not the time for this?" Vivienne suggested.
And as much as Rajmael hated to agree with Vivienne on anything, she did have a point. They had to keep pressing on. "Alright, let's keep moving. The plan's the same; keep our confrontations to a minimum and power on through until we reach the temple. But keep this in mind, Morrigan: this is ME you're talking to. And you can confirm this with Vivienne; I do not suffer other people bullshit, no matter who you're sleeping with. So I suggest you bite down on those barbs you got on your tongue." Vivienne shifted uncomfortably at the last comment.
"I...will take it under advisement." Morrigan said through her teeth.
"Rajmael, please! We must keep going." Cassandra urged. "Our forces won't be able to keep Corypheus' forces at bay for us much longer."
~XoXoXo~
Once again, they pushed further into the forest, trying so desperately to reach the walls of that temple before Corypheus could claim his prize. The further they delved into the forest, the more intense the fighting was. But now it wasn't just the Inquisition and their allies fighting against the Elder One's forces, but now there were these strange elves fighting against all of them. Friend, foe, it didn't matter to them. They no longer even bothered to conceal themselves. All that mattered was killing as many of these intruders as they could. This could no longer be considered a battle, but a free-for-all melee with all sides trying so desperately to kill each other, all of them fighting with all their hearts for the cause they believed in.
They came across another killing field at another elven ruin that appeared to be a shrine. The Red Templars here were already slain, a whole company of them. Only a mere handful of the strange savage elves lay dead amongst the intruders. It became deathly apparent that these elves were no strangers to fighting off invaders. And given how no one who ever entered this primeval forest alive, Rajmael guessed these elves were masters of their domain.
"What is this supposed to be?" Blackwall asked.
"An altar to Mythal." Rajmael answered.
"How can you tell?"
"By that statue." Rajmael pointed to the elven styled dragon statue that loomed over the altar.
"Doesn't look like any kind of dragon statue I've ever seen?" Dorian observed. Unlike most depictions of dragons that featured them as fearsome or even monstrous, this elven statue portrayed it as wise yet still held an aura of power.
"The elves worshipped dragons? I thought that was more of a Tevinter thing." Iron Bull pointed out.
"My people and our symbols predate the Tevinter Imperium, their empire was built on the knowledge and power they stole from us." Rajmael reminded. "A High Dragon is the ultimate creature of the fairer sex, and therefore the avatar of Mythal. Just as the halla is Ghilanain and the hare is Andruil's."
"Did the ancient elves ever practice human sacrifice?" Varric inquired.
"Not...to my knowledge." Rajmael answered.
"No, the didn't" Solas answered almost offended. "That is an inaccurate and derogatory depiction of the ancient elves."
"Well...then what's this guy's story?" Varric pointed to the desiccated corpse of a man whose bones were so ancient they were ready to crumble to dust beneath the armor he was wearing. It looked as though he had been placed on the altar and sacrificed on top of it. judging from how the skull was separated from its neck.
"This man is a Templar, but not one of Samson's, obviously." Cassandra observed the Sunburst of the Chantry on his tunic. "Judging from the style of his armor, I'd say he was from the earlier years of the Chantry."
"What would a holy knight be doing in a desolate forest this far away from the Chantry?" Vivienne wondered.
"Whoever he was, he was no pushover. Just look at the size of him!" Iron Bull noticed. In life this Templar must have stood at least 6'5". "And check out this weapon! He must of done some serious damage with this thing." The horn-headed mercenary picked up a gigantic maul that was left at the feet of the dead Templar. To look at it, you wouldn't think it was the weapon of a religious knight. The hammer head and pommel looked as though they were crafted from bone, no wanted to guess what kind of animal it came from. It was imbued with a very powerful lightning enchantment. But must grisly of all was the skull that was spiked right on top of it and secured by a heavy chain that was wrapped around the hammer head.
"Holy Dirthamen..." Rajmael glared hatefully at the very sight of that heinous weapon. Despite seeing it for the first time, he recognized it immediately.
"You, uh, know this weapon, Boss?" Iron Bull noticed the look the Inquisitor was giving the hammer, and it was making him nervous.
"Every Dalish elf knows that weapon, and every elf in Thedas knows who this knight is. Ser Mhemet!" Rajmael spat the name out of his mouth like as though it left a vulgar taste on his tongue.
"Is that somebody famous?" Dorian asked curiously.
"Ser Mhemet was a Templar from Rivain who lived almost eight hundred years ago. He fought in the Exalted March on the Dales." Cassandra answered with a hint of shame in her voice. "His...desire for killing elves was almost legendary."
"And for the outstanding service he provided for the Chantry, by sending many of my brethren's souls to the Maker, the Divine saw give that butcher the rank of Anointed." Rajmael continued with disgust. "The last anyone ever heard of him, he was chasing the elves the fled Halamshiral southward to the forests."
"He came here, searching hunting. Wanting to bathe his hammer with more elven blood. Do it for the Maker, the Maker smiles on me." Cole whispered, feeling the memories of the dead Templar. "But he never found them. They caught him."
"It would seem that in his hunt for the Dalish refugees, he was instead caught by these elves when he trespassed into their territory, and then killed in Mythal's named." Solas concluded.
"A ghastly end for a ghastly man." Morrigan chuckled. "'T'would seem that fate is not without a sense of irony."
"Being killed in Mythal's name was an honor this murdering pig didn't deserved." Rajmael hocked in his throat and spat into Mhemet's empty eye socket before snatching the weapon of his people's enemy from Iron Bull's hands. Rajmael lifted it above his head and smashed all that remained of Ser Mhemet into dust. "Mhemet, you genocidal piece of shit. You never looked better! Maybe you burn in the beyond for all that you did!"
The dust from Mhemet's bones filled the air and his armor broke apart like gravel.
"Feel better now, Inquisitor?" Varric asked.
"Yeah, a little bit."
"Okay, well, there's a lot of other Templars out in the forest here who need to die more than this guy. Maybe we should go make that happen?" The dwarf suggested.
"Huh. Good point. Let's not keep them waiting any longer."
~XoXoXo~
The Inquisition Forces and Orlesian Knights fought side by side against Grey Wardens as the former Rebel Mages unleashed years of pent up anger and aggression against their former custodians. And the Venatori learned a new meaning of fear when the clans of the Avvar, led by Siobahn Skinchanger, came down upon them screaming with fury like something out of their worst nightmares. Their Tevinter style blood magic was no match against the shamanism of the Avvar tribes. And all of them, no matter their race, human, elf, dwarf, even qunari, held in their hearts, that hope that once seemed impossible, yet here they were. They could defeat this enemy. Corypheus was no god. They could win.
"For Andraste and the Empire!" A Chevalier cried, raising the banner of Orlais and held it triumphantly.
Siobahn stood at the front with her fellow Avvar, their axes, mauls and faces all wet with the blood of their enemies. The sounds and heat of battle made the mountain-men hungry for more. "Children of the Frostbacks! Stone-Bear Hold, Redhold, Bear, Fennec-Tooth, Wyvern, my brothers! The gods have more favor to us than any other race in all of Thedas. We marched upon the Blight when the Lowlanders called. We sent the darkspawn running from the gates of Denerim. And now we face one who dares think that he can compare to our gods! Let's show these weak-hearted Venatori slavers the true might of the gods of the Frostbacks! Korth Mountain-Father, hear our battle cries! Hakkon Wintersbreath, grant us strength and glory in battle! Lady of The Skies, we commend these souls to you! The birds will feast well tonight!"
The army of Avvar tribesman roared with such a battle cry that it could be heard all the way in the Frostback Mountains. A new sense of terror gripped the hearts of the Venatori as they vainly tried to hold their ground against the battle-hungry Avvar who came charging down on them, screaming like something out of their worst nightmares. In their last moments, they would find the strength of the Elder One to be wanting.
The Avvar were born in conflict. Every day of their lives, infancy to adulthood, was a battle for survival in the harsh conditions of the Frostbacks. Nothing prepared men for battle the way nature did, and Korth Mountain-Father people strong. A quality that the absent, faceless god of the Southerners lacked. And it would seem this would-be Tevinter god did little to make his followers strong, save perhaps granting them that horrid red lyrium. But it didn't make them strong, it just made them a little harder to kill.
Siobahn unleashed the fury of Korth's burning heart down on her enemies. Fire spat from the mouth of the bear skull mounted atop of her staff, bequeathed to her by her predecessor. With it she felled enemy after enemy, Red Templar and Venatori alike. Siobahn laughed with wild abandon as she watched her brethren maim their enemies with their axes, arrows and bare hands. The sounds of their screams was enough to bring her to ecstasy.
The ground shook as a colossal abomination strutted on to the battlefield. A Templar monstrosity the size of giant. The mutation from the red lyrium was so severe that it was no part of his whole being. One of its arms was incased entirely in a cast of red lyrium shaped like a scythe that mowed down a dozen brave Avvar like they were grass. The Avvar tribesman threw their spears and shot their arrows at the Behemoth, but they merely bounced off it's lyrium-grafted body. The beast roared victoriously as continued to cut down more of the hardy mountain men. Siobahn would show this creature not to underestimate her kin.
Casting her staff aside, Siobahn ran full force at the Behemoth. The creature noticed that buxom shaman running at her and swung his scythe-arm at her, to cut her down like the rest of her kind. Right before the creature's boulder sized limb could harm her, Siobahn morphed into her signature form of a giant golden eagle form and flew at the Behemoths head. Her talon's tore at his face and gouged his eyes, making his roar in agony. He blindly swung his weapon at the skinchanger, but she flew high above his reach and dove back down. Mere seconds before she landed back on the Behemoth's head, she morphed again into the form of Red Lion, the most feared animal in all the Frostbacks. Siobahn pounced on her gargantuan opponent with such force, she drove him backwards on to the ground. With her opponent on his back, Siobahn mauled the repulsive creature's head with her claws, knocking the red lyrium of his skin until all that was left was the flayed, misshapen skull of what used to be a man.
Siobahn resumed her human form and grabbed her staff. It wasn't over yet, she hoped. She hadn't had this much fun since the Battle of Denerim. The Lady's messenger's would feast happily tonight, and Korth would welcome them back to the Frostbacks with honor. But first, they must kill as many of these Red Templars as they could. And when this was over, Siobahn was going to have to find the lovely Scout Harding so that could celebrate their victory properly.
~XoXoXo~
Cullen held the line with his best men at the very edge of the temple. He had just barely missed Corypheus making his way towards the temple, with Samson clinging to his side. Everything inside Cullen screamed at him to go after them, but he knew he couldn't. That wasn't his battle to fight. No, he had to be out here with his men, and make sure the Inquisitor could get into that temple.
No more of the Venatori or the treacherous Red Templars would make it past this point. It had been a while since he had fought in open combat, and it was the first time he had ever gone into battle without lyrium to enhance his abilities, but this is what he had been preparing for all this time. The Inquisitor helped him find the strength he didn't think he possessed, reminded him what duty truly was. And for the first time in his life, Cullen was sure, without a shadow of doubt, what he was fighting for. He failed in the Kinloch Hold, he failed in Kirkwall. He would not fail here.
Cullen engaged three foes. Two Venatori mages and on Templar knight. Without lyrium, Cullen could no longer nullify magic; he was going to have to do this the old fashioned way. Cullen attacked the first mage to prevent him from summoning any spells. He cut the mage's staff in two, followed by a forehand swing that chopped the mage's head off. The Red Templar attacked his former brother with rabid savagery, but Cullen quickly discovered that the red lyrium had robbed the man of more than just his sanity. His opponent's strikes were wild, undisciplined, completely lacking in the skill they were taught as recruits. The Red Templar was so enraged, he didn't even pay attention to his surroundings, but Cullen did.
The remaining mage shot a lightning bolt at Cullen while he was fighting the Red Templar. Cullen quickly parried his opponent's sword away and grabbed him by the neck, using him as a shield against the mage's attack, and the lightning bolt hit the wrong target right in the head, killing him. Before the other mage could use another spell, Cullen reached his belt and grabbed the dagger he kept strapped there and threw it right between one of the mage's eyes with practiced speed and accuracy. The mage fell down dead.
"Shield wall, form!" The Commander ordered as rejoined his squad. His men locked their shields into a wall of impenetrable steel and diehard determination, unwilling to give up any ground. Cullen felt his spirit rise when he saw the Inquisitor and his followers making their way towards them. Soon this would be over. "Inquisitor! Corypheus and Samson just entered the temple. You can still make it!"
"Hold the line, Commander!" Rajmael ordered.
"We will not fail you!" Cullen promised. "Andraste be with you, Inquisitor." The Commander stood amongst his men, holding the line. No one else would make it beyond this point. The Red Templar formed ranks and prepared to force their way past the Inquisition's forces. Red Templars, Grey Wardens, and Venatori all stood ready to engage their hated rivals, the men and women who dared to defy the Elder One at every turn.
Cullen and his men stood ready. He trained these men and women himself, he knew their strength, their resolve. This place would not become their grave. Today, they weren't going to die for the Inquisition, they were going to kill for it.
A loud rumbling came crashing through the forest. Like something was stampeding through the forest and uprooting the trees. It's force was so resounding that it was trembling the creek they stood in. What was that?
A great war spit the air as the Avvar broke through the tree line with Siobahn leading their savage assault. "Thabhairt ne trocaire, mo braithre!"
With the Avvar flanking the enemy from behind, Cullen and his men no longer then enemy's equal, but their executioners. "Inquisition...Forward charge!"
Without their General or the Elder One to give them orders, all the enemy could do was rely on their instincts. Some fought savagely, while others fled. Everyone in the Inquisition's ranks had been waiting for this day. The day they would finally strike at Corypheus for all the crime he committed against them. There was no fear, no quarter, and no mercy.
Rajmael could hear the fighting of all the men and women who served the Inquisition as they held off the brunt of Corypheus' forces. He could not fail here, could not let their blood and sacrifices be in vain. This would be the final push against the Elder One. This battle would be another definitive moment in the history of the Dragon Age.
Language Codex:
Eluvian: Elven, literally translates as "Mirror".
Venaves! Ir'a Vhenallin: Elven, roughly translates as "Stop! We are friends of the people."
Na'din shemlen: Elven, roughly translates as "Kill the quick-children."
Lethalin, quenethra?: Elven, roughly translates as "Why, my friend?"
Mythal Enaste: Elven, translates as "Mythal's Favor."
Ashante kaffas: Tevinter expression, literally translates as "You shit on my tongue."
Thabhairt ne trocaire, mo braithre!: Northern Avvar, roughly translates as "Give no mercy, my brothers!"
Author's Note:
Hello, everybody! It's been over two months since my last update, and it's good to be back!
I've finally found some time away from my studies and get back to typing.
Thank you all for your patience, it will be rewarded.
Next Friday, that's April 1st, I will be posting my next chapter.
And that's no April Fool's Joke.
Please review and give me your thoughts.
Happy Easter, Everybody!