"-He saves the needy from the sword in their mouth; he saves them from the clutches of the powerful. So the poor have hope, and injustice shuts its mouth."
With her head lowered and her eyes closed, at the front entrance of Haven, there, Arturia Pendragon prays.
In requests of blessings for the companions fighting by her side, in blessing for the people suffering during this chaotic time, either in fear or agony, she prays for all who is in need, and for all who will stand against the despondency of malicious people, she prays for her own growing strength so that she may cut down such foes with her mighty holy sword, and that she may have the strength in her heart to avoid repeating her previous missteps in leadership when these people need it so desperately.
It's been several months since she has come to this new world. This land called Thedas, this era of Humans, Elves, Dwarfs, Qunari, and demons that are emerging from the shadows and light of the warped sky; that Breach which continues its looming glowing presence. Arturia has long lost her desire for the answer to how she was brought here - though it still etches in the back of her mind with only theories to comfort herself with.
One such theory, something which she has devised during her long lessons with Solas in controlling her new magic embedded in her palm, is that the blast of Excalibur had perhaps meshed with the magical properties of the Holy Grail. The Holy Grail that is capable of reaching the Root and altering realities and time, and through Irisviel's own intervention, somehow still conscious even in her grail form, rather that she allow Arturia return to the Hill of Camlann and resume the deal made between Alaya and the King of Camelot, Arturia had been saved at that moment and put into this world, where the desire of a knight of her astute and power is most needed.
It is a stretch. For how and why would Alaya ever allow Arturia to be brought here without fulfilling their contract? Has the knight presented herself a lost cause? Or is it that...Alaya itself summoned Arturia to Thedas for a reason? Is there something here that could honor their deal that would or could not be done in her world? Is there something here that the collective will of mankind itself needs her for?
The chained feeling of their arrangement is lost from Arturia's heart and in place is that wretched growth that mutated at her center. More than once does the blonde affirm to avoid letting others see her entirely naked or even in just a shirt left on her person, always taking care to wear an extra layer. She has no idea how to explain this, so she chooses not bring it up to the others, though the thought of confining to Solas about it has crossed her mind, for what if this could be a truly catastrophic condition? As of now though, she hardly notices it until she actively thinks of it. She will have to keep a mind to it though.
Did Alaya grant her this? Or is it Irisviel's doing? Or perhaps, it is some other entity that lives in this world. Is this how she became semi-human again? Has her deal with Alaya completely vanish? Or is it still apparent, and that is why she remains here?
Arturia continues her whispered prayers mixed with unspoken speculations as far behind her Varric arrives and finds her there as still as an Orzammar statue. A quick observation leads him to instantly recognize that she is in the middle of a prayer.
So she's a true believer of the Maker? A little surprising, yet also fitting.
It takes just another moment for the dwarf to find another interesting sight attached to the knight. Beside her hip is not only her grand sword of even grander power, but a long white staff with a blue gem at the top. He has heard about Arturia getting lessons from Solas to control the magic in her palm, but it is actually quite something to see that the honor-bound knight of greater than capable swordsmanship would be interested in dabbling in the arts of the arcane.
The author then starts to think back at their last meeting with the others, their discussion and topic about how the Breach can be sealed once and for all, a topic and leading conversation that makes his stomach turn unpleasantly...
Flashback...
"Is everyone here?"
Arturia asked the whole room, and in it, were her companions: Cassandra, who stood steadfastly right beside her, Solas, with his hands folded behind his back, stood beside the lazily seated but just as attentive Varric, Sera, who was rocking herself and the chair in front of her back and forth, and the other new recruits; Warden Blackwall, standing near the wall and door with his hand resting upon the hilt of his sword by his hip, Vivienne, taking a seat like a perched bird with the elegance of the swan that she was, and the Iron Bull, whose horns nearly touched the ceiling as he stood, irritatingly removing the cobwebs that they kept getting caught in.
"Everyone you requested has come," Cassandra confirmed to her, eyes having already looked around the room to verify.
"Might you tell us the reason for calling all of us here in one room?" Vivienne's voice trickled with sweet intricacy, eyeing in observation the familiar and unfamiliar that she has yet to personally communicate with yet, but certainly intends to soon.
With a nod of assurance, Arturia turned to the table they all surround at. "I know that there are a few of you who have not been acquainted with each other yet. Most of you are new members of the Inquisition, and I have yet to see how all of you are on the battlefield, or how effectively you may work alongside each other. With what I and Cassandra have in mind, this will be our chance to forge ourselves as a team. I'm aware of how sudden this is, but unfortunately, time is the one thing we do not have so sparingly."
She continues, "Yesterday, I've had a meeting with the advisers about our next course of action. What we need in order to successfully seal that Breach entirely. It would be well in done if we can accomplish this task before anything else should come up. We can only afford to get side-tracked so long before the Breach could grew worse once more. Firstly, we need the sort of influence that can help use reach closer to our goal, the kind which the Inquisition will guarantee long-lasting effects to before, and after the Breach closes. In order to fully prepare ourselves, we will have to set out and spread our name even wider."
"Where else is there to go considering where we're at right now?" Varric asked. The Inquisition has already garnered quite the popularity as it is. Regarded enough in acknowledgment that they are catching the attention of the likes of the Mage Rebellion, the Templars, and even the Chantry. It was true that they weren't exactly as influential in name like those aforementioned groups, but they weren't considered "a group of false hopes full of ruffians and heathens" as much as before now.
So where does one go given current circumstances?
With a stoic look, Arturia grimly answered his spoken and unspoken questions, "The Fallow Mire."
Shit.
The dwarf immediately cursed himself for even asking. "I'm really hoping you're just saying that without knowing what that place is. Right?" He asked tentatively. Even the warden by the door, though he kept up a strong front, eyes broke into a faint surprise and his body shifted.
"She knows well enough," Cassandra backed up the knight in an equally unenthused tone. "Believe me, I understand how you feel. But if we succeed in this mission, the Inquisition will earn enough reputation that will grant us all the essential necessity and allies that we need to do what needs to be done."
"Well, you certainly couldn't have picked a less than better place," Vivienne expressed with a quiet yet vocal tone, her expression neutral, though there was a hint of disliked recognition in her eyes, "That trip will require more than extra pairs of shoes."
"In my travels, I've heard all sorts of stories, it's not a gentle place that's for sure. Maker knows that it's cursed one way or the other, or maybe has something of a grudge against it," Blackwall spoke with a low rumble in his voice to cover his unease.
"Yeah, I've heard of that place too," The Iron Bull rumbles, leaning back on the nearest wall. "Shitty place with the shittiest luck imaginable. Typhoons. Plague. Surprising that anyone would want to go and live there, with not a lot of people getting out of it alive." The mercenary then lets out a clearly amused chuckle, "I knew I was joining a bunch of the craziest bastards. It's a compliment, trust me."
"Language, darling." The enchanter reproved, side-eyeing the towering qunari, "No need to be so crude, even when talking about a place as dreadful as the Fallow Mire."
"Ooooh, this will be fun!" Sera leaped with a push of the chair's frame, "Better pack up some raincoats!"
"I think raincoats are the least of our concerns," Solas advised, radiating his usual acumen that hid his true thoughts and feelings from the world, "Maybe some rubber boots will help also...why is everyone looking at me like that? It could be very muddy over there."
"Well, boots are in fashion these days," Vivienne drawled, "I suppose I can manage that, so long as there's a bit of style to it."
Varric was just wondering to himself and his every life choice that led up to this very moment, dragging his hand across the side of his face.
Flashback ends...
Varric unveils his unsettlement simply to unearth the memory of that meeting. He knows that, while certainly, death will await at every corner the moment, he decided to join the Inquisition's efforts in stopping that wormhole of death and destruction, and probably fight a shit ton of demons along the way, Varric had been hoping that at least he would have a chance in facing such odds upon more controlled terrain Varric would be more familiarized with.
Unfortunately, the Fallow Mire is the kind of place where all odds say that you would die if you stepped out of your house and into a puddle of quicksand festering with flesh-eating viruses and Maker-knows what else could be swimming in there, if the plague and the storm don't kill you in your sleep anyway.
"Is there something wrong, Varric?"
Varric snaps out of his discomforting thoughts. Arturia has concluded her prayer, and at the feeling of another's presence, turns to the dwarf who seems to be having a bad impression of a stomachache with that narrowing frown of his.
Varric deflects the question with a wave of his hand, "Just thinking how our new recruits - the Iron Lady, Tiny, and the Warden - are gonna handle their first outing with us at the Fallow Mire. It's gonna be one hell of a trip, that's for sure." He adds with a tight smile as his eyes grimaces.
Arturia nods with a firm expression, not noticing Varric's own worry for his state of being at that place cursed with misfortune, "Handling rough environments might be a different, and more difficult situation as oppose to fighting enemies. Mother Nature will be our unsparing opponent, and it's up to us whether we dance with her chaotic strides, or let her throw us into the fire."
'More like sink our feet in cement and dump us in the ocean filled with water-breathing demons.' Varric idly thinks. Mother Nature: oh what a cruel mistress she is.
"I know ways to make sure our new companions will adapt to the mission easily," Arturia continues, being so unintendedly cryptic that it causes Varric to raise his brows and wonder what she had in mind. "Any issues they would likely have the moment we arrive there would be dealt with, and be no more than minor troubles to cope with and amend."
'Compare a broken shoelace and a tornado, and one problem would look smaller than the other.' Varric thinks to himself.
A female voice bubbles out not too far behind him, "You two sharing love stories over there?"
Varric turns and Arturia follows his gaze. Sera waltzes her way towards him with the rest of their members for this mission following behind, Cassandra is bearing her intense expression as usual, Solas as expressively controlled as ever with his unknown thoughts are, Vivienne with her regal white velvet dress gently dancing as she walks, the Grey Warden, Blackwall, coming along with a hard and nearly stoic face, and finally the Iron Bull, chugging down alcohol from a container mug to loosen himself for the day before they begin their journey.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Varric japes at the rogue elf. Arturia greets all with a nod.
"We're all done with preparations." Cassandra briefs, going over to the blonde knight's side.
"I've even had my boots delivered," Vivienne raises her gown, and true to her word, her dainty feet wore stylish crystal embedded violet rain boots with royal blue highlights and trim of gold.
"I hope you won't take this in offense, Lady Vivienne," Blackwall says mindfully to the horned-headdress madam, "but I don't see how a pair of pretty boots are gonna keep yourself safe from the hellish rain weather over there."
"One should never be dull in how they present themselves, no matter what scenario or circumstances may come by us, or any else," The mage responds gracefully, as if explaining to a confused child why mommy brought heels instead of running shoes, which Blackwall suspiciously feels to be the case from what the author can see.
"Though it's easy to say that no one is truly prepared, especially when our destination is the Fallow Mire," Solas impassively states - or interrupting so nothing sparks up? -before turning to the new recruits, "Are you all, in particular, prepared for this journey? What we may find, enemies will likely be the least of our worries. The weather itself will be unpredictable, and there's only so much my magic and Lady Vivienne's can do to keep us from being completely swept away. You will all have to know how to cope with it yourselves."
"Ease up on the impending attitude, baldy!" Sera flippantly tosses at Solas. "I've been through rough weather before...well, kind of. Had my shoes soaked once and got a bad cold later. But I lived!"
"I shall take in stride to that unintended comment of yours, Solas," Vivienne pointedly adds on. She has heard of the elf mage, and frankly, she believes he can do better than what he's wearing, "I know that you can always rely on my magic to keep our travel across the Fallow Mire more than manageable. But I appreciate the concerns."
"I've been and suffered through worse," Blackwall claims, with a strange lack of specifying, "Had to sleep through more than a couple of rainy days and Grey Wardens are trained to be tough enough to live through any environment. You won't hear me complain."
"You don't need to worry about me either," The Iron Bull says, his mug raised above his head in a hold that is ready to be thrown down and crush underneath his foot, but in an unexpected move, he gently sets it aside upon a cart that is near. A new man or woman can always find it to use it later. "Let's just say I'm the kind of man who likes it rough, and I was on a boat once, went through a few bad storms. Nothing I couldn't handle."
"The Fallow Mire will provide us more than a few bad storms," Arturia begins, walking towards the cart where the Iron Bull set aside his mug, and reaches for a pack of several layers of rubber-like dark material. "We'll need these to deal with the rain. I've had the tailor ensure that these cloaks will adjust accordingly to everyone's sizes."
"Ah. So that's why you asked about our measurements a day ago," Iron Bull reminisces with a smile, he winks, "Smart. It's good to always think ahead."
"I've taken hint that you are a woman of fashion, Madam de Fer," Arturia mentions to Vivienne, handing her one purple cloak that was dazzled in faint dark blue with a dash of white-like snowflakes, "I'm afraid I cannot say the same, though I can only hope that this will suffice."
The knight actually agrees with Blackwall. It IS a bit silly how people should be self-conscious of their appearance when other matters ought to be more pressing, but if she is to get along with her new companions, then she needs to be respectful, attentive, and considerate to their preferences even if they differ from her own.
"The thought is much appreciated, Sir Arturia," The enchanter delightfully accepts the designed rain cloak. "And I am always more than happy to offer a bit of advice during our journey, but I truly doubt you need them with what I've seen you wear so far." Especially now, that lovely blue and white gown is something to die for at the court. She should send word to Orlais of this outfit to help inspire their tailors, maybe even encourage Arturia to be their muse and model. Now wouldn't that be enjoyable?
That complaint brings forth a small smile from Arturia's lips, it being present as the knight passes along the rest of the cloaks to the rest of her comrades, "I've also devised a plan to how everyone will be positioned once we reach the Fallow Mire, Solas, Vivienne, the both of you should take the front with me and construct a barrier. I can't ask either of you to hold it up continuously for however long we may take, it shall only be when it is necessary if ever there was a strong enough breeze to throw sizable debris at our way."
Solas nods in understanding, "It shall be done."
"As I said before, you can always rely on my ability, if it means to help further your cause." Vivienne guarantees.
Arturia tilts her head in thanks the two mages and looks to the Seeker, the Warden at her right and the qunari at her left, "Cassandra, Warden Blackwall, Iron Bull, you will guard our sides." She then looks at the dwarf and elf rogues, "Varric and Sera, the two of you will be in the middle or behind us. I'm not sure how effective your arrows will be if the weather proves to be harsh enough."
"But it's better to be safe than sorry if we took the front and we ended up flinging back an arrow and it hits one of your eyes," Varric mentions, pointing above his cheekbone.
Though, even his pessimistic ass has to admit that it is helpful that someone as orderly as Arturia to consider this much, not only a tactician on the battlefield, but also against cruel external factors. Varric has to wonder just what sort of farm-life did this girl lived that required her to be so thorough. Pancakes must have endured terrible weather at her home to have such foresight.
Another bob of the knight's head shows her agreement, and after she finishes passing out the rain cloaks to each member, she regards them all as they put on their cloaks. "Does anyone have any questions? If there are any suggestions or thoughts you wish to disclose. Perhaps you may be reconsidering this trip. The Fallow Mire is a dangerous place, riddled with diseases and all else. If you prefer to decline going, I will not judge you. With that said, any comments?"
"Nope!" Sera answers, bouncing at her heels.
"I suppose no hard work can be done without getting a little dirty, and I'm not the sort of woman who frets easily." Vivienne quaintly asserts.
"If it's to help everyone here and get rid of that hole in the sky, I'll follow even if it means we go to the ends of the world." Blackwall firmly declares.
"Just lead the way, boss," The Iron Bull assures, rolling his shoulders to properly fit in the cloak.
"I'll do my best to keep up, and while I do, you won't need to worry," Solas guarantees while adjusting his clothing.
"I'm all ready, and willing to go, Arturia," Cassandra tells the knight with a determined face.
"Came this far, might as well go even farther. A writer's work can't always tell good stories without living the excitement," Also, Varric had written his will a while ago, so he's all set to go.
Arturia looks at her companions' faces with satisfaction.
"Then let us be off."
Through a trek to the dreaded place filled to the brim with misfortune, the newly expanded group of companions for the Inquisition goes together.
Idle talks are exchanged by a few of them, Blackwall is one of the few who chooses to be silent under the hood of his dark grey cloak. Attentive as he is to their mission that does not promise them a safe return, not like any job he took previously guarantees him of something secure, he hears how the elf rogue beside him confess of slipping a porcupine inside the armor of an enemy, and the qunari telling back how he once ate sea urchins that were far deadlier than porcupines - spikes and all, and only had a minor case of staying at the latrine for a little longer than usual. Such a strange bunch the disguised Warden finds himself traveling with.
Speaking of strange, one stands out even among this bunch, the black-haired man eyeing the back of their leading young teen that carries a mage staff and her sword at hand.
The brunette wonders how Arturia can impose such professionalism at her age. He's even heard the dwarf mention how she lived on a farm, a humble background, one that usually doesn't grant someone with such a commanding and tactical mannerisms. She would have to have been training at a camp that trained warriors, but she also would have been too young to leave it already. The youthful blonde must have had to picked that steely backbone of hers up from somewhere, or from someone, and already, she is marching across this impending journey as if she has enough experience to do so. She doesn't show herself having any visible weakness, the uncertainty of a growing teenager and is far too mature for her own age. Direct and forthright, she must have lived or suffered through something to be given such a hardened outlook she presents herself in.
"How are adjusting to this long travel, Vivienne?" The blonde knight suddenly asks the Enchanter, who has settled into her position securely from behind. Arturia knows herself to be lacking the sociability that requires her to speak to someone on a personal level. She can speak to others politely, and at her most casual, she could be direct, but either way, she is always professional, never relaxed. If she is to know her new allies closely, she must be willing to let her guard down - though it's been so integrated with her lifestyle, simply letting her face be anything but stone-cold was a challenge in itself. "I can imagine how different it must be for you to wander through such rough terrains of these. I've never paid much attention until now, how much it contradicts with Orlais."
"You'll find no reason to have concerns, though touching as they are," Vivienne smoothly responds. "I can easily adapt to new environments, whether it is in the court, or taking a little stroll like this. Even if the travel will become more difficult, as I can expect it would inevitably be, my own comfort means little if we are to accomplish this mission. Securing the Fallow Mire is the utmost priority, so I can always refrain from any trivial issues I may have."
"We thank you for coming along with us, Lady Vivienne," Cassandra chimes to the Enchanter from the other side of the formation, "I promise you, the Fallow Mire will be an important vessel in the Inquisition's objective. Once we do this and succeed, neither the Templars or the Mages will be able to ignore our call anymore."
"In that case, I shall do my part in help you reach that goal without a single word of complaint from me," Vivienne declares full of promise. "I think you'll find my magic to be far more than exceptional."
The human mage's eyes settle back to Arturia's back, "Speaking of magic, I'm surprised to find out that you are a wielder of the arcane arts, Sir Arturia. I never took you for one, and I certainly would have noticed."
Arturia's fingers grazes at the white, wooden staff at her back, "Truth be told, I'm actually new to the arcane practice. This will be my very first time casting magic on the field. Truth be told, I know how dangerous magic can be, so I only hope I am ready to wield it."
"You are, Arturia," Solas assures her. "You've been practicing diligently. I believe it was time that you finally put it to use. Rest assured, I'll be here to keep guiding you through this whole experience."
While Arturia sends a small smile of gratitude to her teacher, Vivienne's face turned stony.
"So, you have been taught by an apostate then, Arturia?" Vivienne trails off, her eyes looking at the dark green cloaked form of the elf. "I've heard of you Solas, when I've arrived at Haven. I'm certain I would have seen you around at the Circle, which can only mean one other thing."
"That is correct, Enchanter," Solas answers, his tone just as equally stoic, "I did not train at your Circle."
"Well dear," Vivienne expresses eloquently with just a hint of vice, "I hope you can take care of yourself. Most especially for our Herald's sake, should we encounter anything outside your experience."
From his little corner, Varric clears his throat as quietly as he can, feeling the increasing, icy tension he is sure everyone else could feel. Solas responds lightly to Vivienne's condensation. "I will try, in my own fumbling way," his fingers presses against his covered chest as he feigns meekness, "to learn how you help seal the Rifts in Haven. Ah! Wait. My memory misleads me, you were not there."
"If I recall, that was our brave Herald here, but I'm sure it went as well as it should have." An empty, lovely smile forms on Vivienne's lips, quickly catching up to Solas' mannerism as she does with practically everyone she crossed dagger-words with back home, "Otherwise, if someone had carelessly done something with what they do not understand, it would have been more unsettling to hear another explosion occur at the Conclave."
Arturia suddenly stops her walk and sharply turns, prompting all her companions to stop as well. "That's enough now. Both of you. Lady Vivienne, I understand where you are coming from. It is true that Solas is an apostate, but he has already proven himself a more than capable mage, and he has done well to teach me how to hone my magic, earning my faith in his methods. However, I am not oppose to any advice you may offer, Lady Vivienne, and criticism to my form as an outside observer is welcomed. Someone of your expertise will be well-appreciated with your knowledge."
She raises her gloved, marked hand, "This new magic that I had that seals Rifts, I welcome any guidance to help me keep this in control. I would be most grateful to hear your honest opinions as a member of the Circle, but I must implore that you will treat my friend and mentor respectfully. Without him, I would not be as comfortable with this in my hand as I am now."
"My dear, don't misunderstand," Quickly rephrases Vivienne, "I'm sure Solas is an acceptable mage. I would have said so outright if I have heard any different from others. I was only sharing my concerns, but if you have that much faith in him, then I'll trust your word for it. I would also be much obliged to give you a few teachings in wielding magic."
Nodding at Vivienne, Arturia looks to Solas, "What says you, Solas?"
"I do not mind," The elf answers, slightly shrugging his shoulders "Certainly from someone with experience and talents can do excellent in helping you further hone your new craft, Arturia."
"I'm sure she'll do more than simply hone it," Vivienne states boldly, "With my added guidance, I'll ensure that you, Sir Arturia, will be able to truly wield it as magnificently as you do with your sword."
"That is all I hope for," The knight, now satisfied with the result of her declaration, resumes her walk, the others following her behind closely.
The clouds have molded from green/blue to dark gray, rumbling in the sky that is not from the Breach, but of another source; spiraling weather with dashes of lightning flickering within the blackened-like clouds. The air is both warm and cold, very humid. A drizzle has touched upon their individual complexions as they tread forward, their hooded rain cloaks protecting them from the rain. Their surroundings have darkened to the point that one can make the mistake that it is becoming night, yet it should have been no later than the afternoon by the time the group arrived to their destination.
The travelers reach the Inquisition camp, settling in the middle of the woods that is damp with continuous raining, mud pressed under their boots and leaving prints out of hundreds of others no doubt made by these camped soldiers. Tents are set up in several places, and men and women are hurrying about but with careful steps, so as not to slip from the soft, muddy floor, their helmets either protecting them, or books held up to cover their heads.
"Arturia!"
One familiar, short figure calls out, approaching Arturia and her group. It is Scout Harding. "Thank you for coming. Maybe you can solve this mess."
Arturia gazes over the working camp, her brows furrowing to a noticing frown. There is evidence of distress in the faces of these soldiers. "What's happened?" She questions immediately.
Harding answers her, clearly glad to get down to the problem at hand, "Our missing patrols are being held hostage by Avvar. Barbarians from the mountains."
"Barbarians? Here in the bog?" Cassandra's surprise is seen from her raised brows. "What are they doing here?"
"That's the thing. Their leader, well..." Harding looks towards Arturia, her words hesitating, "He wants to fight you. Because you're the Herald of Andraste."
"A...A challenge?" Cassandra glances over to Arturia.
The knight takes a moment, her frown becoming deeper at the information just given. "They kidnapped our soldiers just to gain my attention?"
The...audacity. There is a disaster happening all around them, and all these barbarians cared for is to stir up trouble just to have her fight this man, wasting everyone's time for this like it is some kind of sport? Arturia will do well to make those barbarians regret this. They want her attention? They want her to fight their leader? Fine.
They shall have it!
"Where are they?" The unhesitating demand in Arturia's voice is startling. No questions, no objections or considerations. Once more, the Seeker finds herself impressed. Solas, Sera, Blackwall and Iron Bull for their part approve of her vigilance, while Vivienne and Varric are on the more concern and cautious side.
"Ease it Pancakes," Varric pats her by the arm. Arturia looks to him, "Let's make sure we don't just jump the wagon here."
"Demons are falling from the sky and splitting through realities, our men and women are doing all that they can to fight for their home and for the people that live here, putting their lives on the line, and this is what delays us from bringing back order to the world?"
Varric pauses, "Okay, I see your point, but still, let's not get so worked up. If you want to save those soldiers, we got to think with a cool head, right?"
"Saving those troops won't be so easy though," Harding interrupts dourly. "You'll have to fight your way through undead."
Sera's form under her dark orange cloak stills, "Er, sorry, wassat now? Undead? Like...walking people that normally alive people do, except they aren't...living? That sort of undead?!"
Harding raises an eyebrow at her, "You're not squeamish about fighting undead, are you?"
"Well I mean, I've only ever fought live people, not reverse!" She moved her head side to side, as if searching for the unliving enemies, "No one told me about this!"
"Easy small stuff," Iron Bull attempts to settle down the unnerved rogue elf, "Sure, these guys aren't alive, but that just means we're putting them back to sleep and into the ground. It'll be fun, I'm sure. Although I would probably watch my step if they happen to dig themselves out from the ground-"
"Stop! Stop it! You're not making this any better!" Sera fusses, crossing her arms underneath her cover in comfort. "Oh Maker now I won't stop looking down on my feet. How's I suppose to shoot anything that way?!"
"Sera. Calm yourself," Solas gestures towards her calmly, "There are Inquisition soldiers who need our help. We mustn't let fear overwhelm our right of duty."
Arturia nods in agreement, "Solas is right. It does not matter what we fight, either undead or demons, I will not stand while our soldiers are being butchered by the whims of one ridiculous man."
"I know that!" The other blonde insists, "I just...need a moment." She takes a breath, "Okay, okay...I got this. I got this...they're just people, just not alive, and probably with rotting flesh which is gross, but so are people, they're just like people..."
"Atta girl, Boss!" Iron Bull cheers on the elf rogue, gently patting her on the shoulder so as not to slam her to the ground by accident. A little hint of a laugh.
"I appreciate all of you willing to help," Harding states in clear gratefulness. "The Avvar are holed up in the castle on the other side of the Fallow Mire. Maker willing, the Inquisition people are still alive."
"If they aren't, then those bastards will get what's coming to them," Blackwall boldly declares.
Without a moment to lose, while one ought to think of resting for a bit after their long walk here, Arturia has that fire in her eyes that is looking towards the storm, her fists clenched by her side. It is a sight that would make a person feel lazy and be driven to correct this.
And so, they begin their travel towards the path where the Inquisition soldiers are being held captive, where undead beings await, and many more enemies that may hide within the shadows of this dreadful weather.
"Under normal circumstances," Arturia suddenly speaks up as she leads the group in carefully hiking through the seemingly endless forest and mud of the Fallow Mire, "I would have obliged to this Avvar's challenge, and fight him one on one. My honor as a knight dictates that I should face to any request that would test my mettle against theirs."
"Well, why don't you?" The Iron Bull asks her, barely avoiding hitting a dying branch.
The question causes the knight to look at the much taller man in the eye, as if wondering why he's asking in the first place. With her marked hand, she points at the Breach in sky that swirls ever so present even from this far and through this deadly weather, she then points to her own marked hand which emitted a faint green spark, wriggling her fingers - not saying one word.
"Ah. Right." The qunari nods in understanding, "Guess that Breach isn't going to wait for anyone."
The knight lowers her hand while looking back forward, "It certainly will not, even as I pray that it would."
The further they went, the harsher the rain becomes with the group powering on. Further and further as the storm rushes against their bodies and the skins of their faces like bee stings with the stingers being made of ice. Solas and Vivienne has already set up their barrier just as Arturia had requested them to do and it did indeed protect the Inquisition members from the pounding weather, allowing them all to better cope with what was visually in front of them.
"Don't stop! If you do, you'll be taken under this storm!" Solas vocally warns to all behind him.
"What?! Did you said something Chuckles?!" Varric pipes up as loudly as he can, "Can't hear you with all this noise and rainwater filling up my ears! I think it's best we keep going though!"
"Stay together!" Cassandra shouts from her position in the group, taking extra care in her steps, messed with thick chunks of mud. "We may be getting closer to meeting undead! Have your weapons out and ready!"
Another moment of forging forward and Arturia spots something from afar. Just as her eyes trains to focus, the figure glows a warped, sickly green, and an energy projectile shoots forward.
"Enemy!"
Arturia's warning comes just as the green energy strikes Solas' and Vivienne's barrier. With their combined strength, the barrier does not break. More ghostly green beings appeared ahead of them, sending several projectiles.
"Oh fuck no. Bloody ghosts! No one told me about this either!" Sera cries out in systematic curses, holding her bow as if she's ready to strike with it like a bat.
"Keep it together small stuff!" Iron Bull calls out to her, his mighty fists gripping the handle of his warhammer tightly, but even his face betrays his unnerved feelings. "Oh for fucks sake. Walking corpses I can handle, but I draw the line with spirits!"
"See?! It's scary ain't it?!" Sera arms herself with her bow, she readies her arrow with a steady, yet urgent pull, "Piss off and go back to bed in the ground ya freakin dead things! And stay dead!"
She fires her arrows, and the rest follows with their attack in suit. Solas and Vivienne sets down the barrier to aid in the fight, Cassandra and Arturia taking the front with their swords drawn, Blackwall and Iron Bull protecting their sides and helping put the spirits back to their eternal slumber, Varric and Sera keeping a much preferring considerable distance as the support from behind.
Vivienne sends forward a flurry of ice magic, infused with magic and released with both regality and power, it actually frozen the spirits form, and with a simple tap of her staff against its head, it shattered into pieces. A quirk of a smile at her lovely feature. She was truly a magician not to be trifled with.
They defeat the spirits and kept onward. Further on in the cursed area, they met more of the unliving beings, and at last, they come across what they were warned of.
With rotting bodies torn with age and maggots eaten by nature's command, standing on their thin, pale bluish-gray bodies, legs where the femurs could be barely spotted through its vacant of blood. Glowing white eyes and gnarling human teeth that is yellowish or black, or just plain missing. A weapon in their hands, held up by their still very capable arms, they saunter for the party members.
"Cut through them!" Cassandra barks out, sword and shield already set and ready. Arturia, once more taking the lead, struts forward and slices the head of the undead off cleanly just as the walking corpse begins to raise its sword.
However, the knight is surprised to see that it still has its sword raised in the air, and the corpse swings it down for her own head. Arturia barely manages to dodge it, and cuts off its arm before striking down the rest of the body.
She looks around to witness more undead are emerging from the woods, the flashes of thunder that trembles the earth liting up the forest, and it is with a discomforting sight that far more undead are lurking afar.
She sees as the Iron Bull takes to the charge, swinging his mighty warhammer and smacking away four undead. He crushes one living corpse from his head down to the toes, a nasty mess that spurts black muck of dead cells all over the qunari, "Ha! You sorry bastards think you can do better than the live ones I've killed? You'll have to try harder than that!"
Blackwall comes and cuts off the torso of an undead in one clean strike, his sword messy with rotten gore. "I'll put you poor folks out of your misery, thank me later."
Her companions do their best to kill some of them, but no matter how much they kill, more come from the bog at an alarming rate. "There's no end to them!" Solas proclaims after bringing down a nearby creature. "We have to keep moving!"
And so they do, eliminating the undead that stood their way as they flee. Arturia glances back, their unending enemies of depraved existence following, but are too slow, their legs far too worn out with their rotting muscles. She has a thought then: are these undead ancient warriors that lived long ago? Or are they people that once lived as villagers, and had only died recently?
Either way, the knight has to agree with Blackwall's earlier statement: this place is surely cursed.
"Don't look back!" Varric shouts at her, snapping Arturia out of her internal theorizing. "Just keep going!"
Understanding the dwarf, Arturia runs alongside her companions. 'No looking back. There is nothing we can do for these lost souls.'
All she can do, just as she has been trying to do all of this time in Thedas, is to keep going and never look back.
They resume their haste through the terrible weather and accursed forest. As they venture forth, they have a surprising run-in with people; they are not living corpses, but they are proven to not be friendly all the same.
Arrows fire their way. Arturia smoothly bats each and every arrow precisely with Excalibur, a marvelous display that protects herself and her comrades.
Bandits? This is the first thought that crosses her mind. At their clash, these suppose bandits are much tougher than anticipated, however, with Arturia and her team working together in order to prevent their death; acting and swapping roles in offense, defense, and support, the Inquisition agents are able to overwhelm their living enemies.
Once the group manages to kill the last of them, they take a pause for a short breather in recess. Sera, true to character, quickly rummages through the pockets of their slain enemies as most of them look out their surroundings for any more surprises.
"These aren't ordinary bandits," Cassandra notes, looking down over the body she's standing over, "They're...barbarians."
"Members of the Avvar?" Varric asks over the rain. "Huh. Got to give these guys credit, if they're willing to stay out here in the rain with the dead walking all around."
"Shouldn't these people know that we were coming?" Blackwall questions, his wet black beard slightly shining. "It's their leader who wants to meet us."
"They invited her," Iron Bull reminds, gesturing at Arturia who is looking elsewhere, "But maybe that was just a ploy, get her to expect only their leader, and then ambush her. Maybe they thought she'd come alone?"
"Or perhaps this is their way of testing Arturia," Solas offers his own thoughts. "If she is the famous Hearld of Andraste who has achieved many victories, then they would want her to prove it. See if she is just an ordinary soldier easy to be killed or if she is in fact genuine."
"Bloody bastards..." Blackwall grumbles. "Could be a trap we're walking right into."
"There's always that plausibility," Arturia calmly admits, staring down the path directly in her eyesight. At a distance where they stand over a hill, the shape of a fort is made out through the trees and mist. "It's likely that our kidnapped soldiers are dead as well, but if the chance remains that they live, then we should not fear what lies ahead. And even if they have been killed, then we are the only ones left to avenge them, bring back their remains, and hope that this place will not be where they will forever haunt in anguish."
It is a melodramatic speech to be sure, but one which nearly all of them resonates with. 'Really wish I could write under all this rain,' Varric mentally muses. Subjecting himself to memorizing yet another dramatic moment of the famed young Herald for his later writing, he walks for her, reaching her side as they look towards the horizon. "Well, we better not keep any of them waiting."
Arturia glances down at the dwarf who offers her a smile. Her stern gaze softens as she silently agrees with him.
With the party completing their moment of recuperation, much quicker than usual - although it is against advice to stay under this weather any longer - they march forward once more.
Another travel features them crossing with undead, spirits, and hostile Avvar members. Enduring the brutal weather as they ensure each and every one of themselves can keep moving. After journeying for what seems to be an hour, they finally arrive at their destination.
Surpassing a horde of endless undead, and killing more Avvar members, they reach the fort that is built in brick stones, flames alight in candles inside a gated entrance. Through her curiosity beckoning her to get a closer look, Sera discovers a lever and before she even thinks to ask if she should or shouldn't, she pulls the lever down and the gate rises, opening their access into the building.
"It's now or later," Arturia tells herself and to her group. She offers them one final glance before they entered the hold, all matching in determination.
"Herald of Andraste!" A voice introduces them as soon as they enter the hold. Blackwall quickly examines their surroundings, finding more members of Avvar; below the steps that leads upwards, where at the top, what he assumes and correctly deduces to be the leader of the Avvar stood there.
Staring down at his group, staring down Arturia specifically, his smile that shows teeth hounded with battle eagerness.
Blackwall grips his sword tighter.
"Are you the one to challenge me?" Arturia calls back, not an etch of fear in her voice, as she boldly stares back into the eager barbarian's eyes. "What have you done with our soldiers you have taken?"
"Your men are alive, just in one of the rooms here, if you defeat me, they will be spared." The leader pulls out his weapon from his back, a greatsword he hold in both hands, "Face me! Just you and me! If you are what everyone has been saying, then show me your strength!"
"Very well," Arturia wield her own sword, but in her right hand as well, she grasps her staff. "Come if you dare."
'Is she going to use that mage staff now?' Blackwall wonders worriedly. She confessed before how she never used it on the field, only practice, while the concerns of being near a person with untested magic is one that would likely prompt Blackwall to step away, he stands his ground. If someone so young is willing to go against a man who clearly shows a better strength than his own posse, then Blackwall would be ashamed beyond recovery if he thinks to retreat while one so young bravely walks to her likely doom. He can't very well allow her to fight this man herself.
The leader's grin widens and he bolts down the stairs.
The pattern of Arturia's fighting has change. Whereas before she usually held up her sword, she now instead raises her staff as her companions faces the rest of the Avvar members. A haunting green light flashes from the staff, disorienting most of the Avvar members, including their leader with the spell proving so effective that the barbarian leader nearly trips on the steps he is coming down from.
This opts a chance for the Inquisition group to react, and react they do. One by one, the Avvar warriors are taken out.
Blackwall thrusts his sword for one member, gutting through the stomach and retrieving his sword, bringing it back down against the enemy's shoulder. He hears struggling from his right and looks.
Arturia takes the lead in her dance of death against the leader of the Avvar. Though the leader is able to cope with the flash spell, Arturia's swordsmanship skills are unmatched, deflecting the leaders' weapon and enduring against the older man's strength. She nicks his side with her blade before another energy spikes from her staff, a green glow that pops out, and strikes the leader's side.
"Fu-! They never said you could use a mage staff!" The leader growls out before lunging himself for the girl. Blackwall thinks to hurry and defend the teen, but he witnesses as Arturia swats away the leader's greatsword with both her staff and her own sword, causing the loss in the leader's balance, resulting in him falling forward and Arturia twirling, swinging with her entire body, her sword landing down to his neck.
'Huh. I guess she didn't need help after all,' Blackwall muses and returns his attention to dealing with the rest of the Avvar. Though their leader is lost, the Avvar continue to fight valiantly up until their last one's dying breath.
The battle is over and won by the Inquisition.
With no time to lose, the group search the entire structure, until in one storage room, they have found their missing soldiers.
Crowded together, injured as they are, they are alive.
"Herald of Andraste!" One female soldier exclaims, eyes glowing with amazement and thankfulness, "You've come for us!"
"I told you the Herald wouldn't let us down!" Another soldier claims with a proud smile.
Arturia turns to Solas, who doesn't need her to say as he already makes his way to heal the soldiers. The blonde then turns to Vivienne, "Do you know any healing spells, Lady Vivienne?"
"I'm more than familiar with it," Vivienne informs with pride while taking her hood down and walks towards one of the wounded soldiers, "It's alright now darlings, your rescuers have arrived."
Blackwall does what he can to help along with the men and women, as does everyone else in his group. Helping the soldiers come out of the storage room, giving them water and food.
The Warden takes a step back as he assesses their accomplishment, "Well I'll be, we managed to save them."
A good feeling rises in his heart. He hears a voice from his side, "You said it, buddy!"
He looks down to see Varric grinning from ear to ear. "We walked through that storm, fought against spirits and undead, beat the Avvar; we've basically survived the Fallow Mire on day one!"
Blackwall lets out an nervous chuckle, "Right. Can't get any more interesting than that."
"...I stand corrected."
They have just left the fort, now free from the Avvar's control, and takes to a different path, separate from that which harbors undead and spirits in order to ensure the safe travel of their rescued soldiers who are still recovering, think it best to take the clearing as the rain is beginning to light up once again.
"You've defeated the others?" Asking this question is a hulking figure with pale skin, steel armor and helmet, a massive, mace or hammer or club or whatever it was supposed to be over his shoulder. He speaks to Arturia who confirms his question, nodding without hesitation, without a show of disturbance to this man's appearance and likely strength, who has known the slaughtered Avvar as a member of that particular group.
He is not one who instigate fights however, apparently, this person, known simply as the Skywatcher, is to as he had phrased, "Rites to the Gods, Mending for the Bleeding, a Dagger for the Dying." He is not interested in fighting the Herald as the leader of the Avvar had, and in that terms, he is a friend, not foe.
Good thing too, this man had the built that could go against their qunari. Honestly keeps surprising Blackwall how unflinching Arturia is to the figure. But, well...if she could take something along the lines of a qunari, heavy storm and undead, than this girl is even more fearless than he realized.
Once more, Varric smiles up at Blackwall, albeit this one looking more strained than before, "Hey, it's not a good life if it ain't giving us any surprises."
Blackwall can only slowly nod in agreement at the dwarf's words, never taking his eyes of the strange and admirable teen who salutes her heart after the Skywatcher did the same. She turns and approaches her group, her face neutral.
"He'll be coming with us," Arturia simply - almost flatly - announces.
...Well now, how on this cursed earth did she accomplish that? Didn't they just killed this man's supposed members?
"You've recruited him?" Cassandra asks her, clearly just as surprised as the rest of them. Arturia nods.
"He holds no ill feelings to what we've done to his kin," The knight explains, "It was a fate they've brought onto themselves. There are other members who are more noble and less opportune to take advantage of other people. This is our chance to tie our name to the Fallow Mire. He's also willing to guide us out of this forest and knows a safer path for all of us to return to our camp."
"That...well, that would be good for us," Cassandra rubs her chin. "...Alright. If he can get us out of this forest, then I shall trust your judgment."
With that, Arturia ushers the Skywalker, and the man began to lead the way, themselves following him behind. A member of a group that was once their enemy, now an ally to join their banner.
Blackwall has a suspicious feeling that it will only get stranger from here.
