Marian Hawke was surprisingly calm for someone currently being hunted by Carta dwarves. A joke here, a comment there. To an outsider it would've looked like she was enjoying herself. The bodies piling up around her as her party pushed foreword with little difficulty. Hawke's ice barriers acting as a tunnel that funneled witless idiot after witless idiot to their deaths. Bitter laughter erupting from her lips as she slammed her staff down on the ground. Fire bursting upwards and consuming three unlucky dwarves as she spun. The sharpened end of the staff striking down another dwarf as the single intelligent assassin in the entire Carta disappeared into thin air.

"You wouldn't consider dying would you?" She asked, forcing her usual humorous tone as she tried to smother her irritation. Though no act could hide the harshness in her cerulean blue eyes. These dwarves had made a grave mistake, targeting Carver. Hawke expected the attacks on herself. After she killed the Arishok and was named Champion of Kirkwall she'd faced many challenges. From overly ambitious Templars to a good many assassins and slavers. She'd faced them all, yet these Carta Dwarves weren't just after her. They'd gone to extreme lengths to draw both her and Carver to the Vimmarck Mountains.

"I don't think that's how it works, Hawke." The dwarven rogue at her side responded, chuckling beneath his breath as Bianca once again struck her target. The assassin's head practically exploding into a pile of blood and brain matter the second he reappeared.

"Well that's no fun." A pout splaying across Hawke's plump lips. The dwarf watching her as she sealed the way behind them with a wall of ice. There was just something about the way her raven locks perfectly framed her heart shaped face. The strands dusting the shoulder guards of her Mantle of the Champion armor. Her plump lips and button nose giving the appearance of a noble woman, or a well paid prostitute rather than a seasoned battle mage. Though by far her most striking feature was her eyes. Almond shaped with long lashes accentuating the glowing Cerulean blue orbs. He'd never tell her, but he found them absolutely mesmerizing when she fought. The magic making her eyes spark in a way he'd never seen in a mage before. He wasn't into humans, not in the slightest, yet he had to admit Hawke was stunning. Fenris was definitely the lucky one. "That won't last long in this heat," She spoke, her gaze traveling to the entrance. "We should make this quick."

Stepping through the entrance Marian was surprised at the lack of traps. Most Carta hideouts where filled with so many traps she often wondered how many times someone accidentally triggered one. Yet this place was almost unnervingly empty. It put her on edge as they began making their way through the structure. The towering walls sporting rather worrying cracks as she forced her companions to continue moving. Fenris and Carver having little difficulty keeping up while Varric seemed to struggled. Marian's hurried steps a bit much for the Dwarf to handle.

"The Hawke's blood!" Here we go again, Her staff was at her side in an instant, the end glowing as the flames crackled. "The master will rise! He will be free!"

"Gerav?"

"Varric? N-no one told me you would be part of this." Marian's brows furrowed, fingers tapping against the wood of her staff as she kept her eyes on this "Gerav" fellow. "We were just going after the Hawke's."

"Really, Gerav? I thought better of you than this." It's seems he struck a nerve with the rogue. "I mean, cutting the occasional competitor for fun and profit, that's the game. But what are you all even doing here? Worshipping demons?"

"We drink the darkspawn blood. He calls to us..."

"Right...Manner's, Varric! Why don't you introduce me to your lunatic friend." Despite the humorous tone Marian didn't relax. Her body tense as her grip on her staff tightened. She noted Carvers similar stance as he held his sword poised for an attack.

"Hawke, this is Gerav. He's a greedy, brilliant, bastard son-of-a-nug from the Carta." Varric turned his attention back to Gerav. "Gerav, this is Hawke, the one who's blood you want to drink, or bathe in or whatever. But," he shot her a cheeky smirk. "If you're after eternal youth, I've got to tell you, she's no virgin."

"The master is calling! He needs the blood! We need the Hawke's! We need all the Hawke's! The master wants all the Hawke's! All the Hawke's, all of them!"

"Gerav...Buddy...this isn't like you. Look," he finally pulled forth Bianca, all humor lost as he tried to appeal to his friend. Marian felt for the dwarf. "Never misfired a day in her life. You don't want her to see her papa like this, do you?"

"No! No! No!" He was practically shrieking, clawing at his scalp with gloves hands. "He wants the other Hawke! He wants all the Hawke's! All the Hawke's! Must have-"

"Right..." Hawke began, watching the dwarf have a break down before them. His hands still clawing at his scalp as he screeched. "Varric, what should we do with him?"

The moment the words left her mouth an arrow pierced his shoulder. A scream tearing from the mans lips as another arrow struck his kneecap. Successfully sending the dwarf crashing to the ground. A cloud of dust and sand billowing out around him as he screamed in pain. "The master must have the blood! Attack!"

A smoke bomb went off just as reinforcements came running up behind him. Two dwarf assassins wielding daggers and a single dwarf archer. All in all, Hawke was fairly certain it'd be a easy fight. Wind bursting past as she shot behind the archer. A trail of ice left in her wake as she threw out her hand. A ball of flame exploding beneath the archers feet. The dwarf crying out as a bolt from Bianca silenced him permanently. By the time she'd turned around Carver and Fenris had handled the two rogues. Though that's not what drew her attention.

Standing above Gerav's shrieking form was a figure. Clad in strange leather armor that possessed more pockets than Hawke has ever seen. A blackened cowl concealing her face as two piercing ice blue eyes peered out from above the cowl. A bow seemingly made of glass held expertly in their grasp as a notched arrow remained locked upon Gerav's head.

"Gerav was it? I have some questions for you."