YOSH! This is Squalo King with a new Chapter of Dragon Age: Trials of the Herald.
Travis: Squalo King does not own Dragon age in any shape or form, only Ocs like myself and added story. He makes no money from or anything else.
The Noble Hunter
Ferelden
Thedas, a continent strengthened by its trials of war and tribulations held through the ages. Orlesean invaders battled and lost against Maric Theirin's forces in Ferelden. The Darkspawn and Archdemon ravaged the lands only to be halted by the valiant Grey Wardens. Political schemes conducted by the military and blue-blooded men alike. Demons from the fade, making attempts to come to the land of the living and the feckless who believe they can use them as tools. Dragons, living forces of nature, hunted out of curiosity and pride, many have regretted such attempts. Mercenaries are willing to kill for the smallest amount of coin. All and more have plagued Thedas over the centuries to face them in victory or defeat. However, due to Kirkwall's events a year ago, a new threat has reared its ugly head is the Mage Rebellion.
The Mages have stayed in their Circles for ages, towers sanctioned by the Chantry. They practiced their craft, learning to defend themselves from possession and instilling. Templars guarded these towers in the name of the Maker, the Chantry, and their Order alongside them. Protecting Mages, scouting for corruption, and killing those who've become possessed by Demons. There was never an age where all loved this system; Mages would feel like prisoners, watched like criminals or monsters by the Templars, punished for large and small crimes. Some Templars would allow suspicion to affect Mages' treatment, abusing them and accusing them of more significant crimes than committed. Many Mages were killed or made Tranquil, which cuts away their emotions. Templars were charged with hunting down Apostates, mages who left their Circle, forcing them to come back or kill them. Some Templars even died due to the magic cast by Mages.
Due to events at Kirkwall, the destruction of a Chantry, death of a Grand-Cleric. The Templars began to tighten their leash on the mages, more restrictions, harsher treatment, more punishments, and more death. Many Mages rebelled out in the open, attempting to flee their Circle or fight. A vote Grand Enchanters was cast for either independence or continued alignment with the Circles. The vote ended in favor of freedom, but it was far from unanimous. The Order began to purge the Mages, leading to a full-scale war; Mages and Templars died, 2 Circles burned to the ground, and innocent people are caught in the middle. Divine Justinia the 5th ordered the Templars to stand down, but they fell on deaf ears. The Mage-Templar war-painted the land of Thedas with the blood of Templars, Mages, and those caught in the middle.
The war has gone on for a full year but, now there's a chance to change all that. Divine Justinia stretched out her left and right hand to both parties' leaders. Her message; to come and meet on equal grounds where either party can speak their piece. A Conclave held in the Frostback Mountains in the Temple of Sacred Ashes, where the fabled Ashes of Andraste was once rest. Lord Seeker Lucius Corin of the Templars and former Grand Enchanter Fiona of the Rebel Mages agreed to this meeting. Second, in authority to the divine, Grand Clerics will also attend this meeting due to Justinia's orders. Soon news of this Conclave spread like wildfire, from Val Roeaux to Redcliff and further beyond. Those who were invited would come try to create arguments for their faction.
This brings us to today. Several Templars and Chantry members are camping in a forest near the Imperial Highway. Some are guests invited to travel to the Conclave. However, the majority of them were nobles of the same blood. They are the Noble House Trevelyan of Ostwick, Free Marchers, who traveled to the Conclave to help end the Mage-Templar War. At the moment, they rested, preparing themselves for the delegations as well as any confrontations they may have to face.
The area they were camped in was spacious enough to move in. The traveler's carriages were placed inside the camp. They contained clothes, food, weapons, and any supplies they had left due to the many days they traveled. Tents were put up for shelter and, though they were small, offered much comfort in the outdoors. Their horses were off the carriages, their reigns tied to posts and resting from the long trip.
Some of the Templars were huddled together while others were on the lookout or resting. Their blades at their sides and their shields on their backs. They discussed the travel to the Conclave and their condition at the moment. As for the Chantry members, they were either in their tents and taking this time to rest. Eating, reciting the Chant of Light, or talking among themselves.
"It's getting dark, sh-shouldn't we keep moving." asked one of the clerics as he sat down on a rock. He looked around, afraid of what may come to camp. A fellow cleric gave him a small cup of water. He takes it and drinks from it as quickly as he could.
"Thank you, Sister Mary," he said. He places the cup down beside him.
"Your welcome, Alexander," said Mary.
Mary then passes around the fruit to the other three clerics sitting nearby. Only three of them eat, but one doesn't merely. Her gentle sunset amber eyes, pinched nose, and thin crimson eyebrows turned toward the horses.
"Why couldn't we just take the Imperial Highway? Isn't it a safer route?" complained one of them as she bites into her apple. The one who has neglected to eat turned her head to the complaining cleric. She takes her medium beige finger and points off to Imperial Highway.
"Refugees are trying to find a safe place to stay. We'd only stop them coming in," she answered.
"Rebel Mages have been tearing apart Ferelden, and refugees are trying to get away," said Alexander fearfully.
"The Marches weren't better before we left, any mages from there try to run to hide, and the Templars just chase after them." said the amber-eyed cleric.
"Maker, help the ones caught in this war," said Mary.
"The war threatens all of Thedas, and if this continues, then there won't be anywhere to run in the end." said the cleric with amber eyes. Mary turns to the cleric, who had complained earlier.
"Lady Stella, how do you think the Conclave will go?" she asked.
"The Divine will talk sense into these Mages and the Templars; they'll go back to the Circles," she said.
"It won't be that easy, Stella. Any thoughts that it will be is nonsense," said the cleric with Amber eyes in a curt manner. Stella feels some bile of spite rise in her, but she says nothing.
Alexander chews and swallows some of his apples. He eats too fast and starts to choke. The cleric with amber eyes pats his back. He drinks and gasps for air.
"Eat slowly, cousin," she said. Alexander nods.
"Thank you, Ava," he said. He tries to drink more water, but he had drunk all of it before. Ava pats Alexander's shoulder.
"You too nervous; I'm surprised you haven't shit your robes," said Ava. At that moment, Alexander, Mary, and Stella widened their eyes, hearing such a thing.
"Ava, how can you be so vulgar?!" asked Stella in shock. Ava then points toward the tent where some of her cousins recited the Chant of Light.
"Alexander, go inside and pray with the others," said Ava.
Before Stella or Mary could protest, Alexander was already standing. Alexander didn't want to admit it, but Ava was correct. He decided to find strength in the Maker and Andraste.
"T-Thank you, c-cousin," he said.
Alexander then stands up and walks into the tent with some of the other clerics. He began to join the others, reciting the chant. As he does, slowly, his fear and shame began to drift away.
"Maker, my enemies are abundant.
Many are those who rise against me.
But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,
Should they set themselves against me?"
Before either Stella or Mary could say a word, Ava stands up and walks over to the horse without missing a step. Stella shakes her head with disdain at Ava's actions. Mary looks inside the tent and sees Alexander calm down a bit.
"The nerve of that girl," said Stella.
"It was out of concern, but she was rather blunt with him," said Mary.
"She can only speak to him like that because her brother being the heir to our family," said Stella.
Mary looked back at Ava and saw her giving her entire apple to one of the horses. She begins stroking its mane and smiles as she does so. It was a sincere and gentle look that Ava gave to the steed. She showed her soft facial features with each smile and brush of the horse's mane.
"Her brother is far kinder, actually has a good attitude," said Stella. Mary looks back at Stella, curious.
"Do you mean Travis or-"
"Travis, the elder brother, not the one ogling at you," said Stella. Mary looks down at her lap. She was embarrassed. She found it was a strange thing to happen to her.
"Your better off having the youngest leave you alone," said Stella. She then looks at the templars as they huddled together.
At the moment, these Templars were looking at a map of Fereldan. Each man and woman beamed with dignity, strength, and skill.
"Travis, how much longer before we reach the Conclave?" asked a female templar with bob-cut red hair.
Travis Trevelyan takes his gauntlet and points at a section of the map with a blue dot with a sense of rightful authority. Unlike most of the Templars present, his armor was not as bulky; it was particular Vanguard Mail with a Steed inscribed on the breastplate. The leather around the waist and shoulders was dark brown. At his side was a Templar blade. He wore no helmet showing an infectious smile, medium tan skin, charming amber eyes, medium refined nose, brushed red eyebrows, and scarlet hair tied back into a ponytail.
"Five days at most, hopefully, the homesickness is slowly killing me." He says with a grin. He turns to the Templar, who looked out for the horses.
"Course that depends on the horses," he said. The others looked at him as well. The Templars nod. He then makes a fist and puts it to his heart.
"Healthy as can be, Lord Travis Trevelyan." He answered.
"Good work Marcus, knew you'd be good for the job," said Travis. He pats Marcus's shoulder. Travis looks back at Ava as she was tending to the horses.
"Especially with someone picking up any slack," said Travis.
Marcus felt embarrassed at the statement, happy his helmet hid his blushing cheeks. The others noted this and stifled their laughter. Travis clears his throat, and any of the others halted any laughter that could escape.
"Now, we need to be sure that we aren't taken by surprise on the way," he said.
He points at three archers who were on the lookout at the edge of the camp—Baring red hair, dressed in Templar garb, and wielding bows with quivers containing arrows on their backs.
"Courtesy of my noble family, good archers that watch our backs, fronts, and sides," said Travis. He then put his hand to his sword, holstered at his side.
"When bandits or demons show up, we get the non-combatants to safety and take them down quickly," said Travis. The Templars all agreed with this plan. However, a voice speaks up.
"What if Mages appear, and they summon demons?"
The question didn't come from one of the templars in the group. Travis recognized the gruff and stoic voice, as did the templars. They look over at a man sitting on a log on the opposite end of camp. He was alone with his back turned to everyone. A brown cloak covered his body. At his left side rested a large Templar blade, and to his right were a few sacks and boxes—all of him that could be seen was his back and his slicked-back black hair.
The templars felt a wave of unease. Though we were prepared to fight at all costs, the prospect of battling Mages or Abominations is a danger. However, there was much resentment toward mages. The air had become far tenser than when Travis spoke of bandits. The Templars were not the only ones who heard this. The Chantry Clerics became more nervous and afraid. However, Ava looks at the large man with more concern than fear at what he was saying. Travis gives a straight answer.
"We'll fight them if need be," said Travis. He looks back at them, his family, and his comrades. He blocks any doubt or fear that may shatter these next words.
"With the will of the Maker, we keep our promise to we made to our family and the Ostwick Chantry," he said. He then looks at the back of the large man.
"We protect them and bring them home," said Travis. The other templars, including the Trevelyan members, put their fists to their hearts.
The large man didn't turn around. He merely puts up a hand wearing a gauntlet. Travis took this as a sign of acknowledgment. He then turns back to the Templars.
"Alfred, how much food do we have left?" asked Travis. The Templar in charge of food speaks up. He takes off his helmet, revealing his bald head with thick jet black eyebrows.
"We have gone through more than half out our food and herbs," said Alfred with a hint of concern in his voice. Travis chuckles, despite the Templar's fear of starvation.
"Don't worry, our hunter is getting more for us?" he said. He points his thumb back to the large man.
"He brought back some already, and our 'Guard' over there will keep them safe," said Travis gesturing at the large man.
"It's not much, but to him when you or the others are hungry," said Travis with a bright smile.
"I swear he won't bite today," said Travis. He chuckles for a moment at his joke. Even though Travis beamed with pride for their hunter, the Templars all looked at each other, feeling concerned and uncertain. The Templar with the bob-cut brown hair spoke up,
"Um, Travis?" asked the female Templar.
"Yes, Lisa?" asked Travis.
"Shouldn't we send some of our own out to find him? He could be in danger," said Lisa.
"No.," said Travis without batting an eye. There was no humor in his tone, no attempt at a jest, and no hint of fear. His lack of hesitation was striking to the others. It was almost scary. They looked at each other; the looks in their eyes showed no confidence in Travis's answer. Marcus then steps forward to speak.
"But it will be night soon, Lord Trevelyan," said Marcus. Travis folds his arms. He narrows his eyes and loses his smile. His somewhat pleasant air melted away into one of annoyance and impatience.
"He will be back," said Travis.
"He offered to hunt for us, and that is what he's doing," said Travis. No one says anything back. It was clear that Travis wasn't going to budge. Many had already opposed their hunter volunteering to go alone. However, their concern fell on deaf ears. Travis then points at a few of the Templars.
"You few, time to switch lookouts and tell the others that are resting what we discussed," said Travis. He slams his fist into his chest.
"Dismissed!" he said with great voice and authority for all the camp to hear.
"Yes, sir!" said the templars in unison. They give their salute with the sound of metal hitting metal and marching off to duty. Ava rolled her eyes, seeing this, and went back to the horse. However, she looks up and sees the sun getting lower in the sky.
"He should come back soon," she said, concerned.
As the others got busy, Travis walked over to the large man who warned the group of mages and demons. He sits down next to the right of him, revealing the man to be taller than him.
"Uncle Cecil, it was good of you to be part of the conversation," said Travis.
He turns his head to him and looks at the side of his uncle's face. Cecil had an intense amber eye. A broad nose. His face was rugged with a square jaw with darker beige skin than Ava and Travis. He wore Templar Commander armor from top to bottom, but it wasn't new, unlike the other Templars' armor. His armor was old, damaged, rife with dents, and weathered like a veteran of the ages. The pauldrons were broken, the gauntlet in need of repair, the metal didn't shine in the light, and most of the cloth used was torn and old.
"And petty as well," said Travis. Cecil doesn't turn his head and continues looking out into the forest.
"I only reminded you of the wall that may stand in the way," he said.
"Is that all we have to worry about?" asked Travis. Cecil shakes his head.
"No, that includes the dishonor the Templars may bring," said Cecil.
"Don't worry about ours, trusted and strong," said Travis.
"This conclave may be the only option left to end this war," he said. He clenches the gauntlet. He then feels around for his massive blade. He grabs it and tights his grip around the handle.
"If they don't behave or purge any mages, then it will-"
"They want the war to end too," Travis exclaims, interrupting with no remorse. His tone, riddled with hints of anger and disappointment. Cecil pays it no mind.
"You trained them, have more confidence in them," suggested Travis. Cecil merely grunts. Travis then points off into the woods where the man was staring.
"You need to have confidence in him, too," said Travis. Travis's uncle shook his head and reached out his left hand onto his massive blade.
"He's my charge; I should be out there with him," he said. Travis shook his head.
"He's been hunting for us already and back home-"
"He shouldn't be here, Travis, and you know he shouldn't," said Cecil, interrupting his nephew. Travis narrowed his eyes at his uncle. Angered by his little to no acceptance for what is happening.
"He's not even a Templar," said Cecil with hints of concern in his voice. Travis folds his arms. He prepared to respond, but he decides to stop himself.
"You are to be the head of our family once your father steps down, and you allow him along for this," said Cecil in disapproval. Travis grunts hearing this, irritated and angered.
"He wanted to come; he knows how important this all is," said Travis. Cecil turns his head to Travis revealing a scar on his left eye.
"If he dies, then can you live with that?" asked Cecil. Travis looks at his uncle in his remaining eye.
"No, but Nero will be fine," said Travis. He then gets up and walks over to the others to see how they were fairing. However, Cecil didn't leave his spot and continued looking into the thick forest as far as his eye could see.
*Sniff* *Sniff*
A pair of nostrils had begun sniffing the Ferelden air. The owner of the nose was a young man in his twenties. He shared the same skin tone as Travis and Ava Trevelyan. His face had young facial features, sharp inexperienced amber eyes, messy black hair that reach down past his lower jaw. He had a round l face with a chin to match. This young man was Nero Trevelyan of the main branch of House Trevelyan.
He stood tall as he sniffed the air, wearing a Mercenary Coat for protection. The coat's fabric was dark green with black clot bracer's on both arms with an opened finger glove for the right hand. The undershirt was gray with a hood and matching scarf around the neck—iron pauldrons on both shoulders. The lower body of the armor had black pants with matching boots.
On his back was a Hunting Longbow with a quill with several arrows inside. At each side of his waist was a Highland Dirk resting in their sheaths. Along the back of his waist were several pouches, some lock picks, a knife for cutting meat, and potions. He was shouldering the responsibility of feeding everyone.
After he finished smelling the air, Nero's face is downcast. He folds his arms, disappointed at the smell of the forest.
"*Sigh* Not bad, but not close enough," he said to himself. He decides not to focus o the smell and more on his duty.
"Now, let's see how much I gathered," he said. He then kneels to three medium-sized teal burlap sacks that he was using.
He opens each of them. One with fruits native to Fereldan. The other bag contained herbs, roots big and small, brown like the Ferelden dirt or green as grass. The final sack, which was meant for meat, was empty.
"Damn it, what will the others say?" he asked himself. He runs his fingers through his hair, frustrated. He looks in the bag of roots and herbs. They were full
"Well, at least Ava won't have to worry about fruit," he said as he closes all three bags.
He stands up and looks back in his family's camp direction. He feels nervous. He felt a chill travel up his spine, causing his body to tremble.
"Uncle's still looking this way," he said to himself.
He looks up at the sky and sees that the sun was no longer in the center of it. He widens his eyes, the realization that he was gone longer than he had intended.
"Shit, I have to hurry!" he said in distress. Then Nero takes both of his hands and grabs a fistful of his hair in a panic.
"If I don't hurry back, Uncle Cecil and Ava will kill me!" he said.
He then imagines Ava and Cecil staring daggers at him. The pressure of their concern over his well-being turned into anger and spite toward Nero. He was about to run back when he stops himself. He looked around as quickly as possible and found a few bushes clumped together. He then takes two of his burlap sacks that contained herbs and fruit. He hides them within the bushes where no one could see them. He then runs over to pick up the empty bag; however, he fumbles the strap and drops it. He then stops himself from trying again. He looks down at his hands. He saw they were trembling.
"Okay, calm down, Nero," he said to himself.
Nero then breaths in and out at a steady pace. He does so again and again until he felt calm. Slowly his shaking and fear-filled body began to become stable.
"Okay, just hunt one large animal and get back to camp," he said.
He looks around for a moment and snatches up some Elfroot from the ground. He takes his knife and cuts the top half off. A particular herb that was useful all around. Nero then eats it bit by bit. As it hit his tongue, the plant's bitter taste assaults his taste buds. He swallows what's left in his mouth and smiles.
"*Sigh* At least the Elfroot here tastes the same," he said.
He then takes his Hunter's Bow in his hand. He picks up the carrying bag for meat and carries it over his shoulder in his other hand. He begins slowly walks through the woods, being careful not to make a sound. As he makes his way deeper into the woods, he begins to admire his surroundings. Though the smell that he hoped for, he did take time to admire the area around him.
The forest was abundant with plant life. He looks up and sees that the trees were tall and robust, lush with green and healthy leaves. They carried tiny acorns for the squirrels, prickly brown pine-cones, and the occasional fruit that Nero failed to pluck. They were kept up by brown trunks that were either wide or thin and rooted in the ground by roots that persevered through the ages.
Upon the forest floor, any bushes filled with dark green leaves or wild fruit. The ground was dirty with patches of grass. The forest floor was also bumpy with hard rocks scattered by nature's whim. There were also flowers of different sizes; colored pink, white, light blue, etc.
As he goes on, he takes a moment to listen to any sounds. The whistle of the wind that blew through the forest and gently touched his skin. The rustling of the leaves in the wind. The quick buzzing of insects that would fly past his ears. The fast and sharp chirping of birds. The scuttle of insects and Fennecs.
Though he remembered that he was in a hurry and put it on himself to hunt for the others, Nero could not help but smile at the spacious lands. The sun that broke through the leaves and branches shined down on him, like a way of the forest saying,
"Nice to meet you."
"This forest is huge!" he thought excitedly. He nearly broke into a run with this realization at the abundance of space. However, he remembered his family and tried to shake off any distractions. He keeps his cool and puts away his smile as best he could.
"Okay, Nero, ogle the trees later," he said to himself. He looked around for any hoof or paw prints in the ground left by any animal. Any droppings were acceptable as well, and even fur.
Nero diligently looks around as much as he could. He treads further into the forest and finds no deer or ram for him to kill. He ventures deeper into unknown territory with every step on the bumpy off the beaten path. Nero was a bit nervous about venturing into the forest's darker portions. However, he wanted to fulfill his duty.
1 hour later
Though he searched around every tree, past every stone, and through every bush, Nero could not find any traces of any large animals that he hadn't already hunted. No deer, no ram, not even a Druffallo were to be seen. All the time he had spent looking had become hollow. He slowly makes his way to a random tree. He places his head on the trunk of the tree. The enthusiasm that filled him up soon replaced feelings of failure and regret.
"AAARRRHHHGGG, WHY CAN'T I FIND ANYTHING!" He screamed in his head. He wanted to bang his head against closest the tree, frustrated and angry. However, he stops. He then drops his sack and Bow to the ground. He sits on the ground and places his hands on his head.
"Damn, now what?" he asked himself. He pulls up his knees and hugs them with his head lowered. He looks up at the sky and sees that it was almost sunset. The night was coming, and he had to head back soon with his work unfinished.
"*Sigh* What am I even doing here?" Nero asked himself. Feeling the harsh sting of disappointment in his only job of the day, being unfinished. All because he wished to do this job alone. He sighs, lamenting his foolishness. This event wasn't helping his confidence.
Nero puts his hand in his pocket. He pulls out a white enclosed letter with a crest's broken wax seal. He had already opened it, memorizing every letter and sentence used inside. This letter gave him some sense of comfort; it made him feel warm inside; maybe that was why he pulled it out. He puts the parchment away. Nero then grabs his Bow, his empty sack, and stands back up to hunt.
"*Sigh* I won't find anything if I stay here," he said to himself. He starts walking for one last search.
Nero travels further into the forest. He found several patches of grass eaten and deer tracks nearby that helped compliment them.
"Thank Andraste," thought Nero at his find.
He follows the tracks as quietly as he could. So far, he saw no deer responsible for the hoof prints. Nero tries to compose himself; he was excited and nervous at the same time. Excited that he was closing in hon his prey, but nervous being in unknown territory. He holds his Bow tightly in his hands as he makes his way through the forest.
Soon he hears flowing water ahead of him. He moves faster but also makes sure to keep as quiet as possible. Nero maneuvers past obstacles: the trees, rocks, and bushes. He reaches the last of the tree, but he stays behind one of the trees. He looks and sees a small brook with water flowing rapidly through the forest, wetting the stones that were in its path, watering the soil. Nero's ears filled with the brook's babble, nearly seduced by the sound.
"It sounds relaxing." he thought.
He stays behind the tree. He tries to keep it hidden as he looks to the right. Up the brook and sees a deer. It was a large stag, its fur was reddish-brown, and its antlers were like branches. It was drinking from the upper portion of the stream.
"W-What luck!" he thought.
Nero slowly kneels and sets his sack on the ground while keeping his eye on his prey. As deer continued to drink, unaware that Kite was watching it. Kite makes sure not to make any sound.
Nero then slowly stands back up and takes a single arrow out of his quiver. He couldn't believe how lucky he was. Nero grips the Bow in his right hand, but not too hard. He places his arrow in his bow and draws it back with his left hand while holding it with his middle and index fingers.
It was an action that was silent; his move movements were fluid and quiet. He stares down at his target. Steadies his body to fire. He lines up his shot. Kite had every intention of taking prey without much of a struggle.
However, the stag lifts its head from the brook. Its ears move slightly. Its head turned toward Nero's direction with its big eyes. He froze in place; his brain began to spark a flame.
"Does it see me?" he thought. He widened his eyes.
"Will it run away?" he thought. He tightens his grip on his Bow.
"Shit, i-is it going to charge me?!" he thought in a panic. He trembles. He keeps his eyes on the stag. However, his prey does not move. Nero felt as if though he was staring into his soul. He realized that if he didn't fire, his prey would run away.
"I-I have to fire." he thought. However, his body would not let him.
Just then, a separate arrow strikes the stag in the back of the head. It tumbles down the brook until it stops closer to Nero's position. It was dead. Seeing this causes Kite to put his Bow and arrow away. He ducks back behind the tree and stays put.
"Where did that come from?!"He thought.
He takes a quick peek and sees two men standing over the stag. From what he could tell, one of them was wearing a dark red outfit: it was dark red with silver and black cloth adorning it. Something else to note is that his back bore the Circle of Magi insignia. His hair was long enough to reach down his back; it was colored black with gray streaks. He had a mage's staff in his right hand; the head had the shape of a swirl with the wood being pure white.
The man next to him had dark brown hair that was cut short. He wore light armor. The cloth was dark red and appeared very old with animal fur along the shoulders. The bow he carried was one that Nero recognized; it was a Dalish Hunter Bow. Both of their bodies were quite slender; some would say bony.
"Who are these two? Are they here hunting too?!" Nero yelled in his head. He cursed his damned luck. He knew one of them was a mage due to the staff and wasn't adept at fighting them. He was also outnumbered.
"I have to sneak away, but if they see me, I'm dead!" he thought as he pondered this. The man with the bow knelt to his catch.
"Keeper, I thank you. I needed to speak with you alone." said the hunter. While he knelt, it was almost as if he was bowing to the mage.
"It is strange, but our company allowed it. " said the Keeper. Nero recognized that title. "Keeper" a term used by Elves to address their leader or elder of their clan. The knowledge that they were Dalish made this worse.
"Elves?" whispered Nero. He nearly smacks his forehead.
"Shit, I stumbled into Dalish territory?" he asked himself. He sits quietly as possible without moving.
"Keeper, it's not too late." said the hunter as he continued to skin and gut the animal. However, the Keeper shook his head.
"No, Sarian, I will speak no more of it." the Keeper responded in a stern tone. He then began to walk away to the other side of the brook. Nero witnesses "Sarian" runs after him. They stop and continue their conversation.
Nero could longer hear the elves. Curiosity took over, and he peered from behind the tree. All he saw was the Keeper's back facing him.
"What are they saying?" He thought to himself.
Nero witnessed the Keeper and Sarian's body language change. The Keepers were somewhat relaxed while Sarian's were desperate.
"Wait, why should I care? This my chance to escape!" he thought.
Nero begins to sneak away slowly. He kept close to the ground and made sure not to trip. He needed to head back to camp, with food or not. As a child, he was told that the Dalish were territorial. If he were found and incited a fight, nothing good would come.
"Just get further away. Don't look back."
That was the mantra that repeated in Kite's head. Nero got as far away as he could, believing that his caution would save him. However, reality would take his caution as protection from misfortune.
"Stop where you are!" yelled a voice.
Upon hearing this command, Nero looks around to find the voice source. He tries to run, but a lightning bolt flies in his direction. He leaps out of the way, and the attack hits a tree. It begins to catch ablaze and starts burning, quickly creating smoke. Nero sees what would have been his remains, and he nearly dies of shock.
"AHHH, What now?!" he yelled in aggravation.
"I said, stop!" yelled the voice. Nero turned and saw a man with curly brown hair. He had staff with him, but it was an Apprentice staff. He wore mage robes that were dark blue.
Nero holds still, not wanting to die. He puts his hands up and notes how he forgot his Bow.
"Hey, I found someone!" the man yelled behind him.
Soon three more mages made their way to them. Their appearance made Nero's heart sink; fear would consume him at this rate. The mages watched Nero's movements; they readied each of their staff and prepared to cast their magic.
At this moment, Nero believed his life to be forfeit. He couldn't go for his blades, or the mages would just kill anyway. There was no way Nero could outrun lighting or adept spells. And he couldn't yell for help. None of his family could hear him. He felt like he was drowning in the Waking Sea; struggling to find a way to survive and slowly dying.
"Calm down, all of you." said a loud, familiar voice.
The Mages and Nero turn to the source of the command. Nero sees the pair of elves he thought escaped. He looks at their faces and sees strange green branch-like markings under their eyes and forehead. The Keeper had gentle green eyes with a more wrinkled face. At the same time, Sarian had stern green eyes, a younger appearance, and a serious demeanor.
The mages all relax but keep their staff pointed at Nero. On the other hand, Nero had a look of shock on his face. His eyes were wide, his mouth was agape, and his mind did not process this well.
"Y-You, but how?" he uttered.
The man known as Keeper walked over to Nero, with Sarian walking over the mages. The Keeper points his staff at the burning tree and uses an ice spell. He freezes the tree, putting out the fire.
"Tell me, young man, what is your name?" asked the Keeper.
Nero saw that he was surrounded, outnumber, and outgunned. He looks at Sarian and sees him holding the Bow he had left behind. Nero had no way of escaping this situation. He looks up and sees the sky was reddish-orange; with the sun setting at the horizon, he sees the sun was setting as the view of it was being blocked by the trees. Nero sighs; it was at this point he just wanted to take a nap.
"Nero Trevelyan," he said, exhausted.
Well, that's all I wrote.
Yes, this chapter was a doozy.
Please review, give criticism.
"This is Squalo King, signing off."