They left for the crossroads immediately. Because of his experience, he still knew where to go to get there. He mumbled a few foreign curses while he almost tripped on the unsteady ground. "Time to test out my new weapon, I guess." He said, hopeful. But his hopeful glee soon faded and he felt becoming overwhelmed. These were not NPC's, these were real people. People who, most likely, only fought on orders from superiors.
"End this now! I can still spare your life." He yelled, but his voice sounded shrill as his stomach turned and twisted. Demons he could handle. As long as he didn't think about the possibility that they too were only victims of their faith. "Back me up!" He heard Cassandra yell, bringing him back to the here and now. If he couldn't set himself over killing others, he should at least make sure that his own weren't slaughtered. This was war. There was no time for weak sentiment.
With some help of Cullens training he used his halberd to full potential. He'd use it as a staff for ranged combat, but whenever one of his opponents came too close, he would stick them with the pointy end. His staff looked every bit a real halberd, but there was no mistaking the staff that served as it's base. He would even use his magic to make the halberd give ice cold or fiery hot piercing qualities. Mehenion took a short pause.
"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" Solas wanted to know. "Honestly? I have no idea. Wasn't exactly the most sportive person around." Mehenion replied to truth. "There is more of them!" He yelled and charged forward. "Forward." He thought. "Fade walk…" How did they do this? Perhaps the trick was not to think about it too much? Just like he didn't when he almost set Cassandra on fire the first time he killed a demon. He'd figure that out later.
"That's all of them." She said. Her face and clothes were splattered with blood and he guessed he didn't really look any better. He crouched down to one of his slain adversaries. "So young." He felt a lump catch in his throat, but he had to think about the fact that the young man chose his fate. The villagers who got caught in the fray, didn't. "So, the villagers are safe?" He asked while trying to control his voice. Killing these people had always been a mindless mashing of control buttons until the red bar above their head had run empty.
He walked towards a puddle and started cleaning his weapon and face. He looked up at the banner, sided by two of their soldiers, who both saluted him with their hand on their heart. Mehenion nodded at them, then touched the eye that was drawn on the banner. The Inquisition logo. The eye was crossed by an upside down sword, surrounded in this case by the fiery tendrils of a black sun. It was supposed to inspire awe, and with him at the head, it would,...in time. He looked back to the puddle, then took some water to wash his face again.
"Herald of Andraste?" A voice behind him sounded. Mehenion turned around to the chantry sister. Just like the chancellor she wore a robe that was white in the front and back, but a crimson red at the sides. She wore a red overthrow of some kind, like he knew nuns used to have back home. The red was embroidered with golden forms, shooting up like flames. Around her neck was a chain of office. Her hood was however most special. It enveloped her head in crimson and had a white inverted triangal frontpiece that tapered from above her brows to the back of her head in a high arc. Mother Giselle was a darkskinned woman somewhere in her late forties or mid fifties. She was a softspoken woman, but wisdom marred her every sentence.
"I hadn't pictured the Herald of Andraste so young, however." She sounded worried. Mehenion felt uncomfortable and averted his gaze. "Still not used to "Herald" thing though, but yes. That is what they call me." He replied. His accent ran thick. "You have asked for me, Mother Giselle." He started. She nodded. "I know of the Chantry's denouncement and I am familiar with those behind it." she started. "I won't lie to you. Some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the next Divine. Some are simply terrified, so many people, senselessly taken from us…" Mehenion nodded. "Even here, today…" He added.
The Chantry, he remembered, was like the Catholic church. On top of the hierarchy sat the Divine. She was like the pope. And just like in medieval Europe, there were two popes, two Divines, both declaring the other false. In this case, the Divine from Tevinter, or the Black Divine, was always a male, however the other was always a woman. Blowing up the Temple of Sacred Ashes, was like blowing up the Saint Peter's Basilic in Rome, with the pope and all the cardinals still in it and without faith, the people lost all hope. They felt lost and without direction.
"Go to them. Convince the remaining clerics that you and the Inquisition are no demon to be feared. They've heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe." Mother Giselle explained. "Will they listen? I can not even speak your language without mistakes." Mehenion panicked. The woman chuckled. "You are doing pretty fine on your own. And you are no longer alone."
She took a breath. "Let me put it this way. You need not convince ALL of them, you just need some of them to..doubt. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them and you will receive the time you need." Mehenion nodded. "Thank you for your wise words." He said. "But you make it sound easy…" Mehenion looked at his feet. "I don't know if you are touched by fate or sent to help us, but I..hope. And hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call as they will listen to no other." Mehenion frowned. Some of the words were still hard to understand for him. "Excuse me? What is….rallying?" He asked. "You will inspire them, unify them." She explained.
"You could build the Inquisition to a force that will deliver us, or destroy us." "You think I can do that?" This brought another chuckle from the woman. "I do." She said. "I will go to Haven and give Leliana the names of those who would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can." She spoke. "And I thank you." Mehenion bowed. With that, they parted and Mehenion turned back to his party.
"Cassandra? What means "amenable?" He whispered. "She would gather clerics that would be "amenable" to a gathering." Cassandra looked at him. "It means they might agree, might be persuaded." Then she added: "Don't worry. You will improve over time, and we are there also. You are the Herald, but you are not alone in this." She reassured him with the same words the chantry nun spoke. "Thank you. I not think I would survive without your help, yours, councils help, their help.." He pointed at Varric and Solas. "I think we should go to camp. Night is falling and I'm very tired. Tomorrow we should help. Inquisition helping innocents will get trust, yes?" Cassandra laughed. "Yes. I think we can all use a good night's sleep after today.
It hadn't take much for Mehenion to fall asleep. As soon as they had arrived at the camp, he almost collapsed on his sleeping bag. Solas had wanted to talk to him, but getting anything coherent out of the boy seemed futile. He decided to try in the morning. But that was when their party found out something else. Mehenion was not a morning person and he acted every bit the teenager he still was. Cassandra's soft voice was met with a loud moan and when her soft touch failed, she decided to go for the harder approach. "Get up, boy!" She shouted and pulled the boy upright. "Time for action!" The boy still groaned, but at least she got him moving and in a short while he was fully dressed and sat with small beady eyes to work away his breakfast. He let out a large ostentative yawn and stretched his spine like a cat.
Solas grabbed his moment when Cassandra and Varric were out of earshot and quarreling. "I've been meaning to talk to you. I have a few questions." He sounded friendly, just curious. Someone easily suspicious would have sought more behind it. Mehenion nodded. "You are Dalish, yet you bear no mark like the others…" Mehenion looked at him.
"Wish I could tell you, but I do not know. I can only guess...The Dalish have this ritual they do when elves become adult, yes? Perhaps I was not adult and did not deserve Vallaslin. Perhaps going to temple of Sacred Ashes was coming of age in different way. I hope I will find out. I think about it often." He spoke truthfully. "Best not to worry about it too much. We will get answers." Solas said.
His comforting was met with a mirthless laugh. "All I do is worry, Solas. I guess it part of my job. I also feel...guilt?" He looked at the bald elf. "Why is that?" Solas sounded like a calm and gentle spirit. Only those who knew him well enough, knew about the storm that raged beneath. The worry to be found out for what he was, the worry whether his plan would work, if he could even go through with it. But Mehenion would not confront him in front of others like that. He could have done so already, multiple times. If he even knew.
"Because…" Mehenion began. "I do not feel as home sick as I should, I do not think as much about my family there as I should. I wonder what happened to them. What they feel. Have they even found out? I also feel guilty for this body. Perhaps here he was real person with hopes, dreams, a future and I took him over. Even if it was accident I still feel guilty for steeling his body like envy demon would. What if I am envy demon?" He pondered.
"Then most likely we would have found out by now." Cassandra interjected. "You are just confused and scared, which is normal. But we should focus on more important things. Your fighting still looks and feels clumsy. Come." She said. When he didn't stand up immediately, she let out a growl. "Come." She pulled him up. "You need more than just training with words, your body needs to be trained as well." She said as she bashed in on him with her shield, knocking him backwards. "Right...training...ofcourse…" Mehenion yelped from the ground. "Got it.."
"You should also train your magic with me. It, too, can use some polishing." From the heap on the ground stuck up a thump. "Understood…" Cassandra groaned. "Light as a feather, but stiff as a board you are. You need at least try to resist my blows, boy." "Should we not go fight the baddies or something? Save the people…" He retorted. "All in it's time Da'len." Solas said and got a weird look. "Da'len is used when referring to a younger person or a...student in your case. Technically it means child. Hahren can be used for an older one, a leader or a mentor to translate it loosely." Mehenion looked him deep in the eyes. "You don't look THAT old, Solas. But since you are going to teach me magic, hahren sounds good."
Mehenion got a knack of getting dirty from the most mundane tasks, and thus, after a whole day of training, going after ram meat and stopping a war for the day, he looked like one messy bloody elf. His whole face was covered in dirt and dried blood, most of it, not his own. Although he did have a small gash on his forehead, one on his lower back and some nasty bruises where shockwaves only just bounced off him. If Solas hadn't cast his barrier, he would be a lot worse. Cassandra had scolded him for it. Told him to be more careful. Solas had ordered him and shown him to pick up some elfroot so they would be able to apply it to the wounds later.
"This looks good… water close by, high off the ground, nice view…" He looked over the landscape with it's corpses strewn over the battlefield. "Well...that's up for debate." Varric came to join him. "You be...were... quiet today. Is something wrong?" Mehenion asked. "No, no. I was just thinking of the juiciest stories that I would tell you guys tonight." The dwarf said. Mehenion wasn't sure whether he should believe him. "Ok. If you wanting talk, find me, right?" He patted him on the back.
"To be honest, I have never set up a tent by myself. Not these at least. I might need help." He whispered. "I...feel quite stupid, right now." If he hadn't told them anything about his past, not being able to set up a tent or any basic survival skill might have been very weird, but since he told them a bit of what happened, most of it got easily propped up due to him not really being of this world. But he was learning fast.
Back in his world, it wouldn't have gone that fast. He secretly wondered. If ever, after months or years in this place, would he be able to get used to his own world again or would he have to relearn everything again? Would he still know how to ride a bike or how to pay with credit cards? And even so, how would people react to this body? Or would he leave this body behind? A frown appeared on his forehead. He liked this body, already, even though it felt clumsy at times. And it stunk... It stunk of blood and sweat and dirt.
Mehenion walked to the small lake that formed itself under the waterfall. Slowly he waded in the water and started to peel off his layers of armor and clothing until he stood bare in nothing but his loincloth. He looked back at an astonished company. "What? I need a wash…" He looked down and smiled. Loincloth was still where it needed to be. He looked down at his reflection and his pearly white skin over lean muscles.
Elves in the game always looked so brittle and small, like you could snap them like a twig, and it wasn't much different here. He looked almost as small and frêle as the elf that walked into his hut after he woke, though she was a female. But now he also saw the various bruises and cuts on his body, bruises and cuts that even his armor couldn't fully stop. Mehenion looked back again. "Seriously...are you going tell me what up or join me?" He grinned.
Solas was the first to speak up. "Your back needs healing." He looked worried. The shockwave had left a lightningshaped bruise above the small of his back. He waded into the water and started feeling his back. Mehenion felt his cheeks go red. In the game he would try and romance this man. Now this same man was feeling him up. "Not too much internal damage has been done, thanks to my barrier of course. You need to be more careful, Mehenion." The boy nodded.
He let out a shrieking, earpiercing giggle and his body started twitching when Solas fingers touched his back. Solas recoiled and lost his balance. Varric let out a barking laugh when he saw the elf fall back. "Ticklish, I presume." He said. Mehenion nodded and held out a hand. "Yeah...sorry." He pulled Solas up. The man let out a sigh. He went on to heal the bruise, that was slowly fading.
He started undressing now as well. His clothes were wet now anyway. Mehenion looked at him, but as he felt him looking, he looked away. He was an elf, but he looked broader, wider and not as wiry as the boy. He started to casually collect his clothing and hang them out to dry and saw Mehenion do the same. "Come." He said and lead him to the waterfall for some training in balance and movement. "Well,... it seems like Chuckles is loosening up. What do you think, Seeker?" Varric looked up at Cassandra. "I am NOT going to undress and bathe amongst you, dwarf." She snarled. It was already dark when Mehenion, Solas and Varric sat around the campfire in a fresh set of clothing. All three were conveniently faced away from the lake so Cassandra too could take some time to herself without three guys glaring at her.
Note: Somehow this chapter was hard for me to write. I was plagued with a little writer's block. Furthermore after rereading and deviding my huge blocks of texts in smaller bitesize chunks, doubt struck. I hope I'm not alone in this, but I do see I have a lot to learn.