Bull At The Coast
The Qun taught patience, many of the Iron Bull's kin were bred and raised to sit still for hours on end. Whether that be while waiting for an ambush, to speak with a superior or simply to get their rocks off at one of the places that offered such trysts. However, along with sufferance, his people were also taught punctuality. If you were given an order and direction you must abide by those tasks and appear where expected on time. To not do so better carry reason or one would face disciplinary action and even potential reeducation. Bull suspected that the Inquisition was similar in the way in which it was governed, minus of course, the Qun patented consequences. His assumption was validated with the timely arrival of Krem and a group of the young order's scouts after his Second could have only been in Denerim for a day. He assumed that the scouts weren't there to test his Chargers' metal, but instead merely sent to set up operations for those who possessed the authority to hire them. Krem stated as much, but with the speed that he and the scouts had left the city and the oddness of the dwarven man who vouched for him, the Lieutenant was unsure about who exactly they were waiting for.
Bull's brief questioning of the Inquisition members did not reveal anything about their potential Procter, most simply assuring him that they'd arrive the next day ready to assess the mercenaries' skills, before returning to pitching a well-positioned camp close to the ridge overlooking the shore. The scouts merely repeated one another when pressed and the dwarven woman who appeared to be leading them, Scout Harding, if he recalled correctly, told him to wait before going back to directing the others in her squad. So wait he did, after all, a day would give him and his people time to gather more information and prepare the beach for their upcoming battle. They set up additional traps and ran manoeuvres, a few extra final preparations to give them even more of an edge against the Venatori when they finally arrived. The day quickly turned into night and the Chargers' readied for their meeting by making marry well into the late evening. Everyone rose with the sun, ready to break camp and walk the Procter threw their plan of attack. Only they didn't show. By midday Bull noticed Harding pacing and sending out a pair from her squad to investigate. They came back by sunset looking downtrodden and he was made quite aware that whoever was supposed to arrive was running very late.
Passing time when waiting on someone else's arrival was never the qunari's strong suit, he always felt restless and his mind would wander with worse case scenarios. Training wasn't draining enough, plus all drilling for the upcoming bought was done. Continuing to dwell on the finer details would only result in overworking an already well-thought-out plan. They couldn't exactly predict what would happen when the Venatori boats finally made land and attempting so would only put him and his Chargers at a disadvantage should their opponents do something unexpected. Hence his chosen method of passing time, a slow lumbering patrol that kept him within audible range yet out of sight of the Inquisition camp so as not to make them nervous with his pacing.
Bull was slightly dipped into the underbrush, just unable to make out Inquisition heraldry threw the thick vegetation and constant blinding down pour that was the Storm Coast's namesake when he was alerted. A slow meander of footsteps came out of the woods a few clicks ahead of him, weary feat sluggishly slipping upon muddy ground as the hooves of some great steed were constantly sucked down into unseen pits. The qunari turned to make his way back to the Scout's camp, with the intent of warning those of the belated group's arrival. Only to be nearly bowled over by all five scouts dashing past him to meet their comrades as they stepped out onto the established road.
His ears had not done the group justice. All were fatigued and mentally drained, yet, still creeping along with battle jitters. Each person on the ground had a weapon drawn as a tired dwarf pulled the reigns of a large black stallion. A top the steed sat two forms, one sturdy and unconscious individual slumped over the much smaller rider in front. Bull could spot deep wounds carved into the warrior's shoulder, dark blood leaking down onto their companion as they were guided forward. The elf, splattered in Dalish markings, was nearly just as damaged though appeared to have maintained consciousness out of sheer determination. Her hand fisting the shirt of the person draped across her, half-closed bright eyes blinking the other warrior's blood and the rainfall out of them as she rocked with the horse's wobbly gate.
The scouts were quick to act, prying the reigns out of the dwarf's white-knuckled grip only for him to continue to trudge down the road. Completely unaware of being relieved of his duty. The qunari took the opportunity to lend some aid, even if only minute, and stepped into the other man's path. The dwarf kept trotting forward until he bumped into Bull's grey-skinned form. Flinching slightly as the large warrior engulfed his shoulder with an even larger hand and steered him towards camp. As he guided the dwarf to the tarpped fire another one of the new arrivals brushed past. Bull was barely able to evaluate the dark-haired bearded man before he had made it to the rain-less safety of the fire, dropped his weapon and collapsed face-first onto the ground. A bald elf was quick to join him, though his eyes remained wide and iron grip on his staff ever vigilant as he sat with his back to a log that the scouts had dragged from the brush the day prior.
Once the dwarf was situated the qunari glanced back to observe the missing three party members. An elven woman with dishevelled hair stood with her bow drawn, half facing the way that they had just crawled from, half keeping her eye on the two still situated atop the horse. The Dalish elf was helping guide her unconscious companion down into the waiting arms of three scouts before slipping from the saddle herself. She said something that Bull couldn't quite make out to Harding before taking a step forward and immediately collapsing as her legs gave out. Harding and the other scout were quick to get the fallen woman's arms around their shoulders before dragging her along. As they passed he got a better look at the large wound carved into her side, nearly as gruesome and ragged as that of her companion's, as she was carted into the medical tent.
Rocky had been sent to scout along the cliff's edge day in and out, he had yet to spot any approaching ships which was good news for the lot of them, as Bull had not even caught a glimpse of the injured after they were carried into the largest Inquisition tent on hand. He had not been informed of who exactly was in charge of his company's potential employment, but the dress and candour of those who were left physically unscathed from whatever they had encountered before arrival made him believe that they were the ones currently out of commission. Without the Venatori on their doorstep and all devising having been dealt with Bull passed the hours watching.
The rest of the night was over fairly quickly after Harding had pulled him aside and asked him to re-locate his people closer to them. Safety in numbers was her explanation, though the way she eyed him made him feel more like potential cannon fodder than an ally. The now much larger eighteen-man camp gave Bull the ability to observe his potential employers without having to creep threw the woods out of sight. The rest of his Chargers kept to themselves as he posted up facing the Inquisition tents. As time passed and their behaviours continued one thing was made very clear to Bull, no matter who he talked to or who he sent to snoop, the newcomers would just shrug them off and keep to themselves. Whatever they had faced on the way there, no doubt sticking them together like glue. Hell, their semi-circle set by the fire protecting the tent with their injured said that easily enough.
The constant downpour was making it nearly impossible for him to parse just what exactly was being said. Luckily, like all ben-hassrath, he had been taught to lip-read quite early on and it made deciphering the other's conversations child's play. Though most weren't speaking, each marred with some version of battle fatigue as they kept quiet amongst themselves, well, minus the dwarf. After the qunari had guided him towards the camp the rogue had become downright chatty. However, he never said anything of note, instead speaking of the weather, his crossbow or something about a next chapter. Nothing that would even hint towards what the group had faced in the woods. The tall bearded man, who had passed out the second he had managed to reach safety, seemed to enjoy the dwarf's continuous narration. A smile occasionally made its way to his lips as he nodded along to something the rogue said. Though, the warrior's posture continued to remain stiff as he tightly gripped his blade. He had been the first, Bull noted, to slip into ill-fitting borrowed armour and had kept a constant vigil facing the forest ever since.
The elven woman with hacked hair spent her time resting by the fire nestled between the dwarf and the tense warrior. Occasionally her ears would twitch and she'd be off, darting up the closest tree with her bow drawn taught, the other two would tense and stare into the woods with weapons in hand until she climbed back down and re-joined them. Her jumpiness was making everyone weary and the scouts seemed to breathe sighs of relief when she disappeared into the medical tent for hours on end. Lastly, there was the bald elf. The man paced back and forth while leaning heavily on his staff, he always appeared to be in constant motion whenever the qunari could spot him, trotting silently to and fro behind those resting by the fire when not in the medical tent himself. The mage's eyes never strayed towards the forest, but he did dive threw the canvas every time the archer made for her tree, peaking his head out again when the dwarf started back up.
The frazzled party only interacted with his people when Rocky finally came rushing back with news about Venatori ships on the horizon. Bull was relieved. Keeping an eye on others is defiantly something that the Qun drilled into him, however, days of repeated patterns and constant persistent silence did nothing but fry his nerves. He approached the Inquisition side of their conjoined camp and informed Scout Harding that their battle would commence in an hour or so with the arrival of the Venatori ships. She assured him that someone would be sent to evaluate him and his people from the ridge. With the Chargers' assessment set he lead them to the rocky shores, each quickly slipping into a per-determined hiding spot as they waited for the Venatori to let their guard down. The rain continued to drench Bull's form as he crouched behind the largest boulder closest to the water line that he could get to without being seen. Time seemed to stretch out as his vision tunnelled towards the shore. An aching calm washed over him as a single decimating focus came into light with steal boots crunching across the slippery pebbled ground. The first Venatori soldier was dead the second Bull laid his eyes on him, his large battle axe bisecting the man as an almost afterthought as he sprung passed and quickly bulldozed threw the troops until he was ankle-deep in water. Storm raging and drops splattering his hide in a steady rhythm he turned to face the Venatori, blocking their only escape. The rest of his Chargers used their bosses' appearance to their advantage and were quick to take action the second he faced forwards, Krem soon joined him in defending the waterline. Skinner was pelting their enemies with a volley of arrows, keeping them off-kilter as they tried to protect themselves from the hell raining down and the two warrior's slashing threw them from the rear. Dalish used the Storm Coast's poor weather to her advantage and froze the droplets striking the Venatori soldiers, ice ricocheting off their armour and occasionally striking true as it slipped past gaps in the iron.
Grim and Rocky were no ware in sight, though an explosion and the bloodied waves he stood in growing to meet his waste let him know that their task had been completed. The vint ship behind them was very much in the process of sinking thanks to a lovely Fire Bomb/Acid Splash combo that had hit its mark on the left side of the haul. With that major blow dealt to their only way out what organization their foes had was lost. As panic seeped in and they began to make mistakes. Slipping on wet stone and striking their weapons against boulders, disarming themselves with the aftershock. From there on out the rest of the battle was taken as an easy win for the Chargers, crushed morale was an impossible crutch to overcome and the panicked expressions that had marred their enemies' faces never reset back to their trademark venomous sneers. He cut as Krem slashed making quick work of the rest of the lingering Venatori. Having waded out of the chummed water after the destruction of the boat, Bull glanced to the ridge while the rest of his crew ended the fight.
Standing just over the crest were seven figures, two of which he hadn't seen since they had been sped off to heal. He couldn't make out much with the distance, but he was able to pick up on something. The way the newcomers carried themselves made him feel ironically small, they did not seem disproving nor impressed with his band's display, they just appeared to be completely and utterly neutral. The fine hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose in distaste at their lack of response. He took that moment to turn away, if the Inquisition wished to criticize him for his methods they would have to seek him out to do so.
"Chargers," Bull bellowed towards his men. "Stand down." He then seethed his axe and marched up to his Lieutenant. "Krem! How'd we do?"
"Four out of six wounded Chief," Krem reported as he gestured to the other Chargers scattered about behind him, Stitches weaving around those seated and awaiting aide. "No dead."
"That's what I like to hear," Bull stated with a smirk. "Let the throat cutters finish up then brake out the casks." Krem nodded before marching off to ensure that their enemies remained dead. With the other man's departure came the arrival of those from the ridge. Lead across the beach by Scout Harding the young dwarven woman waved an arm towards him before taking a step back. Easily the tallest of the group strode forward. Somehow managing to maintain an air of prowess and confidence while leaning heavily on the elven woman with poorly cropped hair he had spent the past few days watching. Next to the pair was the Dalish elf who had held the tall warrior to the horse, she walked with less superiority than her bitter companion. An arm clutching an unseen wound at her side while the chatty dwarf kept his hands hovering near her waist. Though, the fire in her icy eyes burned bright.
"So you're with the Inquisition huh?" He asked quick to broach the topic at hand given the state of some of his evaluators. "Glad you were up to watching." He gestured to a small outcropping of boulders shrouded from the rain by the ridge. "Come on have a seat, drinks are coming." He tried to appear friendly while pushing the two proud injured women standing before him to at least sit-down.
"Yeah must be the Iron Bull then?" The Dalish elf asked, her voice a scratchy hissing wheeze, as she made no move to heed his suggestion.
"Yeah the horns usually give it away," he finished with a grin though both the elf and the tall human warrior at her side continued to ware blank expressions. Growing tired of the tough guy routine Bull turned and guided the others towards the outcropping that he pointed out earlier before sitting down and signalling for Krem to make his way back over. "I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi? My Lieutenant," he said as the other man approached. The injured glanced toward his companion but showed no hint of recognition. The chatty dwarf clinging to the elf's side on the other hand ducked passed the woman he was attempting to aide and shot Krem a massive grin.
"Well if it isn't pretty boy himself," he called out in place of a proper greeting. "How have you been sturdy? Your travel here smooth?"
"It went far smoother than yours I'd imagine," Krem responded with a friendly half-smile as the dwarf barked a laugh. "It's good to see you again."
"Same here, we should swap stories sometime now that we'll be working together," Krem raised a brow at that.
"Are we now? Everything's been sorted?" He turned his head to Bull while looking for confirmation.
"We were just about to get down to the brass tax of it," Bull stated.
"Hmm, well while you lot sort that out, you'll be pleased to know that the throat cutters are done Chief."
"Already? Have them check again. I don't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away." Bull wasn't exactly in the mood to take risks or leave themselves open for a potential attack. Especially with two heavily injured near enough to be hit should anything go awry.
"None taken, least a bastard knows who his mother was. That's one up on you qunari right?" Krem said before trotting off and rousing another sharp laugh from the dwarf. Though the elves both seemed nothing less than confused and the tall one had yet to move her eyes off Bull since the negotiations started.
"So," Bull said redirecting the group's full attention onto him. "You've seen us fight. We're expensive, but we're worth it." He chuckled at that, "and I'm sure the Inquisition can afford us." The injured Dalish elf's eyes narrowed, as the tall woman spoke up.
"How much is this going to cost us exactly?" She demanded in a thick Nevarran accent, Bull grinned before responding.
"We aren't looking for a flat rate, nor do we expect to be paid for every little task you ask us to do. We're looking for a salary and although we'll most defiantly cost you more to fund than the average soldier we couldn't be more useful." As he finished the Dalish elf reached over and tapped the arm of her human companion getting her attention. The two carried on the entirety of a conversation in nothing, but vague gestures, not a word was spoken, though the dwarf's grin did seem to grow as the other elf fidgeted with the tall one's weight.
"You defiantly seem... useful," the Dalish elf spoke.
"We are, but you're not just getting the boys. You're getting me," Bull finally stood once again, giving up on encouraging the stubborn women before him to sit by doing so himself. "You need a front-line bodyguard and I'm your man-" The second he said bodyguard Bull knew he'd made a mistake. The Nevarran's eyes went from skeptical and tired to blazing in seconds, the elf next to her standing straight with an unrestrained furry and the magical mark, that Bull had yet to notice until then, sparked and spit in her anger.
"Back off..." "That position has already been filled." Both snarled out in quick succession, the Nevarran lunging forward slightly out of the blond elf's hold. The movement was so unexpected that Bull took a half a step back, his heal just bumping the boulder he had been sitting on moments prior and his entire spiel about demons and dragons almost forgotten. He re-centred himself quickly, his mind working rapidly to diffuse the tension that he had unknowingly instigated.
"Sorry, didn't mean to step on anyone's toes," he said as he raised his hands in an attempt to placate the agitated women. "It was just an idea and if you've already got that line of defence covered I do still make a good body to throw at any big bastards that might come your way." His words didn't appear to unruffle any feathers, luckily for Bull, the dwarf chose then to enter the conversation.
"The man's not wrong Jay-Bird," the rogue began while repositioning himself into the wounded elf's side. "I've seen qunari fight, they all hit harder than six well-trained city guards. There was a reason they were able to sack Kirkwall in one night. If Hawke hadn't somehow managed to pull ahead of the Arishok in their duel I doubt that anyone would have lived." He then ducked forward to catch the angry Nevarran's eye, "we need more specialized fighters Seeker. If we had a full party's worth of heavy hitters with us while travelling, we wouldn't need to rely on the scouts as much and what happened on the way here might have been at the very least manageable."
"Plus he's big isn't he yeah?" The blonde elf muttered, "if he don't take 'em as well as he did least he's obvious, draw fire and all that shite. Less problems shooting pointy things at us." The Nevarran and raspy elf glanced at the others briefly before relenting, though, no longer actively aggressive they both remained on guard.
"There is one more thing, might be useful. Might piss you off," Bull said redirecting the attention back to him. "Ever hear of the ben-hassrath?" Neither elf demonstrated any recollection at Bull's question. However, if looks could kill, the Nevarran would have him dead to rights as the dwarf stared at him with what could only be amusement in his eyes.
"The Benny what'a?" Asked the blond.
"It's a qunari order they handle information, loyalty, security, all of it. Spies basically... or... well we're spies." All eyes narrowed at that, "the ben-hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic outta control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I've been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge and send reports on what's happening. But, I also get reports from ben-hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on I'll share them with your people."
"Wait a bloody second," the blond again. "You're a qunari spy and you just... told us? Bit daft that!"
"Whatever happened at that conclave thing is bad. Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So whatever I am, I'm on your side."
"For now," the Nevarran stated before half slouching towards the dwarf and marked raspy elf. "The qunari worked with the Champion before sacking Kirkwall, his orders could change and we would have a powerful fighter strike at us from within."
"No he wouldn't," the Dalish elf remarked with a shake of her head. "The Sister would have 'er people on 'im constantly if not 'erself. One slip up or twitch outta place and she'd have 'im drowning in his own blood."
"Jay-bird's got it right Seeker," said the dwarf. "It might be easier for her in the long run. Instead of hoping to catch the qunari before they make a move she could just watch Tiny here and strike before things you know..." The dwarf dragged a finger across his neck.
"Go tits up?" Piped in the blond.
"Exactly," the Nevarran huffed but offered no further input.
"What would yeah send home in these reports of yours?" The Dalish asked.
"Enough to keep my superiors happy. Nothing that'll compromise your operations. The qunari want to know if they need to launch an invasion to stop the whole damn world from falling apart. You let me send word of what you're doing it'll put some minds at ease. That's good for everyone." The group shot each other looks one last time before the Dalish elf stated their seemingly unanimous decision.
"Yeah run your reports past our Seneschal before sending 'em. Yeah send nothing she doesn't fucking okay." She removed herself from the dwarf and stalked forward glaring up at Bull with such intensity that he nearly forgot that she came up to his sternum. "If this is some sort of bullshit lie or if you're reports fuck us?" She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder gesturing towards the nearly steaming Nevarran behind her, "Cassandra will eat yeah alive and that's only if one of us don't get to your sorry ass first." Bull swallowed hard after glancing towards the now-named Cassandra and replying.
"Wouldn't have it any other way." He then turned to grab his Lieutenant's attention, "Krem! Tell the men to finish drinking on their own. The Chargers just got hired!"
"What about the casks Chief?" Krem called back as he stood half crouched over a belching barrel of ale, "we just opened them up. With axes!"
"Find some way to seal 'em. You're Tevinter right? Try blood magic." Bull shot one last glance at the group gathered behind him as he turned to try his hand at sealing the casks. "We'll meet you back at camp... we might be a while."
They were all acting like a pack of skittish cats and it was driving Varric up the wall. He accepted this when they first escaped the troop of abominations hidden in the lost Dalish passe, they were terrified, injured and exhausted by the time they met up with Scout Harding and her squad. He understood the hesitancy when it came to Tiny and his Chargers, they had just been blindsided with miss placed trust already and weren't all that keen on relying on someone they barely knew. But it's been four days now, two since they watched the Chargers prove their metal, and all this passive-aggressive avoidance was making him itch. The first couple of days Buttercup would pop out of the would work and whisper updates to the boys sat posted outside the medical tent. Her lips never moved, reminding Varric of the puppeteer from a show he had seen with his brother decades prior. Now she sat crouched in a tree above the mercenary band, bow in hand, eyes and ears tuned into whatever they were laughing about. Varric occasionally picked up on her laughter after a particularly raunchy joke from one of the mercs, but she never made the effort to speak to any of them.
Hero and Chuckles were both of a similar mind, neither bothering to seat themselves around the fire. Instead, choose to linger on the edge. Chuckles stuck to the rocky cliffside like glue, barely paying attention to the Chargers and every once in a while checking in with the rest of his travel companions. Hero just stood. Stood by the fire, stood by his tent, stood by the stew pot scarfing down his meal with his hands. If he was awake and alert he was standing silently, not interacting with anybody who he wasn't used to. The Seeker and Jay-Bird were the worst for this. Sleeping in shifts and neither left their tent since their return from the ridge. Varric understood that they were recovering, but they could at least stretch their legs and fetch the Sister's correspondence instead of waiting for Scout Harding to deliver their letters. At the start of day five, with them still too injured to travel and the awkward silence from the rest of his party Varric made the decision to do something.
He waited for Tiny to make his rounds, the large qunari was the only person who the notion of a solo patrol wasn't entirely laughable, before ducking out of camp after him. The other man paused slightly as the dwarf snuck into the woods behind him, only to continue. Varric was intending to wait until he could no longer spot the fire light threw the tree line, privacy was something that he'd need especially with how aloof and childish the rest of his companions were being. They weren't very far into the brush before Tiny halted his pace completely and turned to face where Varric had hidden behind a thicket.
"Here's far enough," the qunari stated with his voice at a slightly louder than average pitch. "Even the elves won't be able to pick up on our conversation from this distance with the rain." Varric laughed before ducking out of cover and approaching the truly hulking man.
"Fair enough," he said as he swaggered forward. "How long did you know I was tailing you for?"
"The second you entered the woods," Tiny grinned. "You stepped on a twig or some shit. Most probably wouldn't have heard it over the rain, but I've been here for weeks and have had time to adjust."
"I'll keep that in mind for next time," Varric flashed the man a wink as he came to a halt in front of him.
"I'd rather these covert talks not become a habit, too cushy for my tastes. Even if you are a redhead," Tiny finished while eyeing him up and down.
"Something else that I'll have to remember, but not exactly what I wanted to chat to you about," Varric sighed before continuing. "You fucked right up with that whole bodyguard thing and after what happened to get here? Calling us a skittish lot wouldn't do us justice."
"I was wondering about that," the qunari frowned but didn't press further.
"Unfortunate is what it was, we had to leave most of our gear behind to get out after the Seeker and Jay-Bird got hit we only had one fighter left between us and whatever those fucking things were."
"Damn, sounds like a hell of a night."
"Shity for us, but might be good for you," Tiny raised a brow as he waited for Varric to finish. "We got ambushed, taken unawares and lost hard. You on the other hand have hindsight on your side. You could take your guys in armed to the teeth and come back with what's left of our gear, I know for a fact that if you gave Jay-Bird back her magical elf sword or whatever you'd win her over. Which means that the Seeker would be on your side, Buttercup would fallow and the other two would accept you and your Chargers as the new normal from there on out." The qunari stared at him for a moment causing Varric's grin to falter, Tiny truly was a big guy with an even bigger weapon he'd be stupid not to be nervous, before nodding sagely.
"If you can tell me what exactly needs to be collected and what in the fuck we're gonna be fighting then damn if that isn't a good plan." Varric let out air that he hadn't known he'd been holding at the qunari's acceptance.
"Alright, so here's what went down..."
Both her and Cassandra's wounds were healing nicely, they could move short distances at a time without aggravating their injuries or causing pain for numerous other reasons. It would still be a few days of heavy potion drinking before they'd be in enough shape to travel, but the progress was something. Neither of them left the tent, however. Dune because she had little energy to interact with the boisterous Chargers outside and she suspected that Cassandra remained secluded within mostly to keep an eye on her, but she doubted that the constant barrage of noise seeping threw canvas was something that the taller warrior had any desire to entertain. Instead, they passed their time reading. Sat up on one of their cots side by side eyes roving over the same page of Tales of The Broken Hearted, pausing at the end of each story to discuss it at length. Honestly, minus her itching healing skin, it was one of the nicer moments that she had been granted since waking up in the Chantry dungeons. Which begged to be questioned.
"Why are there cells in your Chantry?" Dune asked as she placed her hand flat across the book's pages within Cassandra's grasp. Preventing the taller woman from reading further. The Seeker lifted her head from its bowed position and turned to look at her, their closeness only now starting to make the elf fidget slightly with something that she chalked up to unease.
"I am not entirely sure," Cassandra began. "Though I suspect that it has something to do with the cult that had been occupying Haven before Leliana's arrival."
"The occult?" Dune questioned, the word feeling a bit foreign on her tongue as confusion laced her tone. Her understanding of the arcane was limited to what Dhea felt at liberty to share after Deshy's lessons, but she struggled to connect how dungeons were needed.
"I suppose the Dalish would never interact with cults and the like," Dune shifted to sit more comfortably with her legs crossed while facing Cassandra, the small space the cot provided making her knees brush the Seeker's hip slightly. A warm flush dusted the other woman's cheeks before she continued. "A cult is a group of people who believe in something incredibly radically and their behaviour tends to match their beliefs in a nearly erratic sense." Cassandra finished while turning to face Dune a bit better.
"So like the Chantry?"
"No not quite like us-"
"The Templars then?"
"Some may behave as such, but the entire order I wouldn-"
"The Warden's like Blackwall?"
"I do not know enough about them to say for-"
"What about your Circles-"
"Dune!" Cassandra final snapped cutting her off in the process. The taller woman's eyes were narrowed in an irritated fashion. Dune managed to maintain a straight face for a handful of seconds before chuckling. The Seeker sighed and rolled her eyes, but did not hide her slight laugh from the elf all that well. "Do you even wish to know?"
"I do Cass, but yeah gotta admit that people who believe in something and behave funny ain't a very good explanation." Cassandra snorted.
"I suppose not..." she huffed, somewhat dramatically in Dune's opinion. "I am not good at explaining things-"
"Now we both know that ain't entirely true, you're very good at getting your point across."
"Tis' not quite the same, but I do see what you are getting at," the Seeker was quiet for a moment before continuing. "A cult is a group of individuals who believe in something that can rarely if ever be understood by an outsider looking in. They don't tend to act within the laws that govern the rest of society and often outright ignore them. They care not for others outside their circle and often lash out violently towards them without even considering parley." Dune nodded along as the Seeker explained, listening to her friend with rapt attention. "Although many of the organizations you mentioned before may appear cult-like when looked upon, they are far less violent and chaotic in most instances when compared to what was going on at Haven."
"And what exactly was going on at Haven?" The Seeker frowned.
"Depends on who you ask, many will simply hark on heretical behaviour, but it was the killings that I personally take issue with."
"Killings?"
"Yes, travellers and the like who were unfortunate enough to end up in Haven wound up dead. Murdered by the cult's followers in a desperate attempt to appease their so-called risen god. According to Leliana, the rate of bloody altars and cursed magic lead to her party deducing that if sacrifices didn't appear promptly they would perform such rituals on themselves. Whether or not that subject was willing is unknown, most of the cult's writings were burned preemptively to keep such a thing from entering the masses."
"I guess that explains the cells then..." Dune's eyes were wide after Cassandra's summary, her ears slightly drooped back and her mouth curled into a grimace.
"Unfortunately, is there anything else you'd like to know?" Dune shook her head, "then shall we continue?"
They had just settled back into reading when moments later Varric let himself in with little to no preamble. Setting Cassandra's face into a scowl as Dune shot a wry grin his way.
"Varric! To what do we owe the pleasure?" She asked the dwarf.
"We got some deliveries coming in and I volunteered to fetch the two shut-ins."
"Deliveries? Has Leliana sent reinforcements?" The Seeker's scowl only grew as she had previously written to the Spy Master to leave them be. They may have been in a tight spot, but once healed they could easily make it back to Haven without wasting any more of their limited resources.
"I haven't heard hide nor hair from the Sister since we left Denerim," Varric said, only sinking the Seeker's mood farther.
"Then-"
"How about you two just drag your bruised bodies outside and take a peek at what's going on instead of being waited on? Battered or not, you can walk five feet to the fire." The scowl was going to be permanently etched into Cassandra's face with how deep her frown was. Luckily, Dune was plenty quick enough to stand and hobble her way towards the tent's exit without any more questions. Inadvertently encouraging the disgruntled Seeker to act on her protective nature and follow in her charge's wake.
Blackwall's deep throaty chuckle was the first thing that clued Dune into a change. The man had been a silent sentinel since their ordeal on Felondin'isa Shia and hearing him laugh of all things nearly gave her whiplash. She glanced towards him and was shocked to see him sitting by the fire with a few of the Chargers in full recently polished gear, gear that they had to leave behind during their harrowing escape. Sera darted forward talking a mile a minute before she could fully process the change in mood. The elf's candour and speed of prattle made what she was saying hard to follow, she shoved Cassandra's shield into the woman's crossed arms, the Seeker stumbling in surprise before Sera was off again. That's when it clicked, someone had gone to get their stuff and her beloved Baxter was probably close by. Before she could even begin her search she was coated in shadow as someone approached, their footsteps muffled by the rain hitting the tarps hung about the camp. She turned and was greeted by the sight of Bull.
The qunari was splattered with blood and his arms were coated in a series of scratches of varying thickness, but the main thing that drew Dune's attention was the long-wrapped package in his hands that undulated and squirmed as they stood there. Dune let out a gasp before lunging forward and snatching the object from Bull's grasp, the thing within immediately calming at her touch only to be reinvigorated as she ripped it from its bindings. She held her favoured sword aloft with a happy cry, its brambles snaking over her form as if trying to memorize her features. She felt energized in a way that she hadn't since receiving her wound and with a mighty swing brought her sword down with lighting speed to a thick log by the fire. Cutting clean threw and embedding it partially into the ground in an impressive show of strength. She was so overjoyed to have the blade back in her hands that she ignored the now throbbing wound in her side as she pried her sword free and rested it upon her shoulders where it belonged. The camp had fallen silent at Dune's outburst and now all eyes watched as she turned to face Bull once again. She removed her non-marked hand from the cluster of brambles that secured it to the blade's hilt with ease and held it out towards the qunari.
"Thank yeah," she said speaking to him for the first time since meeting on the beach. "You're a reliable guy and I should have swallowed my fears and respected yeah for it from the get-go."
"No problem boss," he replied with a face-splitting grin as he took her hand and shook it with force. "Happy to get you your Asala back." Dune cocked her head slightly at the unfamiliar word but opted to leave it for the time being as she turned to face Cassandra who had been quietly watching the exchange from the sidelines. She gestured with Baxter, massive grin on her face as she stepped to the side and allowed the Seeker to offer her thanks. Though, far more reserved and still with an air of mistrust to it. As Dune limped off she completely missed the thumbs up Varric shot Bull and the increasingly deep farrow to Cassandra's brow when her friend caught the exchange.
Two more days before Solas deemed Cassandra and Dune fit for travel, although he hadn't healed them with spiritual magic he was the closest thing that they had on the matter minus the Chargers' field surgeon. During that time they made plans for the trip back, and it was agreed that Bull and Harding would accompany them on their few scant horses for the journey. While Krem, the rest of the Chargers and scouts would remain at the Coast to finish evaluating the area and marking down issues that they would be unable to deal with. Cassandra understood Bull's need to discuss the finer points of their deal with the Inquisition's leaders, she could also appreciate having him between the Herald and any unscrupulous people that they may meet on the road. She was still wary though, after their encounter in the woods and was hoping that the qunari spy wouldn't prove issue while they were vulnerable. She chose to spend most of her time glued to the Herald's side, she may not be able to bear the weight of her armour just yet with the deep cursed claw marks marred into her back, but she was still fully capable of shoving her friend out of the way should the situation turn sower.
Caspar was the only steed to make it out of the fray, he had a few superficial cuts scattered across his hide from their blind scamper threw the woods, but was otherwise unscathed after a few days rest. Cassandra was not looking forward to reporting Estelle's death to Leliana, the former bard had already lost so much and she feared that the horse's demise may push her over the edge or lead to her fully severing herself from her emotions, a far worse occurrence in the Seeker's opinion. For now, she focused on their return as she once again sat with the Herald in front of her, though this time she simply hung on as Dune now had the knowledge to guide Caspar. The others were doubled up as well with Sera perched cross-legged on the back of one of the scouts' horses that she shared with Blackwall, somehow keeping balance as she oiled her bow and spouted nonsense jokes to the Warden. Varric and Solas were paired up once again, both far more relaxed than when travelling upon Leliana's steed. Varric even took the time to interrogate Bull through gentle ribbing and obtuse questions. Something that Cassandra would have to begrudgingly thank the man for later as she was not in the right mind to get further answers from the giant man. Bull himself road an asaarash possibly the only horse in existence that could carry him and his brethren, Harding looked almost comically small as she sat behind the qunari after refusing his flirtatious invitation to ride up front. He got a roll of the eyes before she asked Blackwall to boost her into the saddle, a process that required her standing on the Warden's shoulders as she desperately clawed the saddle for purchase. The laughter that the others tried and failed to swallow was welcomed after the week they had.
Moral only continued to rise as they left the Storm Coast behind and the rain ceased pelting them, Cassandra was looking forward to drying herself and her gear by the fire later that night. The Seeker had seen enough rain in the past eight days to last a lifetime and she prayed that the Chargers and scouts would find nothing to send them back any time soon. Cassandra was so focused on a warm bath and sturdy bed in her future that she neglected to notice her saddle companion's silence, that is until the reason was accidentally brought to the forefront by Harding.
"The first camping area we'll be stopping at is only a few hours out," Harding began as she turned in the saddle to address those who were riding behind her and Bull. "The location should still be secure, but at least one of us should be on watch at all times, just in case." The Herald stiffened in Cassandra's grip, her ears flopping backwards in discontent.
"Sorry..." it was so quiet that Cassandra had to strain to hear what exactly the elf in front of her had said and when her tired mind finally caught up to Dune apologizing for their problems on the passe her face depend into a disgruntled frown. She tightened her hold on the Herald, pulling the elf flush to her chest, before resting her chin on top of the shorter woman's head.
"You have nothing to apologize for," Cassandra tried to leave no room for argument by switching her tone to one she used when instructing. "Those abominations were not your fault." The rest of the party voiced their outrage at Dune blaming herself soon after. Chiming in with questions of how the Herald could have known or simply demanding her to stop blaming herself for what they went threw. Surprisingly it was Solas of all people who seemed to pull her out of a cloud of self-pity.
"I do not like you Dune," he began which caused Cassandra to tighten her grip on the other woman as she mentally prepared to defend her against the mage's criticism. "However, that does not mean that I cannot look at a situation with an unbiased eye. Dalish passes are rarely named with a warning if ever and those Sil'Laim Sil'Ava had been there for a very long time. What occurred was not your fault and anyone who says otherwise is foolish." He finished with his nose turned upwards and his eyes scanning over the rest of their companions, daring them to disagree with his assessment. Dune did relax slightly in Cassandra's grip after that as she released a deep breath and muttered her thanks, the Seeker loosened her holed somewhat but was reluctant to change position. She told herself that she remained in case her friend required comfort, but she was having an issue justifying so. Before she could pinpoint why exactly Bull spoke up and quieted her thoughts.
"Yeah and I've never seen so many Astaarit Bas in one place," the qunari shrugged. "If Varric hadn't warned us before we went in and we didn't have a plan I think our experience might have been similar to yours."
"You have encountered similar abominations before?" Cassandra questioned.
"Sure, all types. My guys and I are usually fighting vints and they don't exactly shy away from blood magic. More times than not someone fucks up and we spend an afternoon trying to hunt down something that shouldn't exist."
"What's the weirdest thing you've faced?" It was the first time Dune had tried to enter a conversation since leaving the camp and Cassandra could not help, but smile as her friend began to show her true colours.
"That's a tough one," Bull started with a frown. "The fog warriors were defiantly terrifying, but I wouldn't call them weird." He scratched the underside of his chin before grinning, "it was probably the Astaarit Bas we fought while running drills in the Claose's."
"What's an Astaarit Bas?" The Herald asked with a familiar tilt to her head, disturbing Cassandra's resting place and forcing the Seeker to pull back.
"An abomination, some freaky skinless thing, none of us had seen anything like it." The giant man snorted, "a noble couple at a nearby Vila's son was an apostate hiding from the Chantry. Us training nearby on behalf of some higher sat orlesians freaked him out and his control slipped. No blood magic as far as we could tell, the man just fucked up while sleeping and boom no skin. We only found out when the damn thing snuck into Skinner's tent that night and tried to steal hers, woman still has a nasty scar on her thigh from that one."
"Envy demon," Cassandra added in way of an explanation. "Their possession leads to the host's skin melting off in piles of sludge. They often stalk victims for months before attempting to steal theirs and taking their place." She frowned, "how long were you training there for?"
"Defiantly not months," Bull snorted. "After we gutted the thing we found the skinned bodies of the boy's parents..."
"It was probably caught by one of them, panicked and got to work quicker than usual. Then moved to your encampment when it had no one to blend in with at the Vila."
"What were the things in the woods?" Varric pipped up looking generally curious. "There was an ass load of demons and abominations in Kirkwall, but I've never seen anything like that. Spooky shit."
"Hunger Abominations if I had to guess," Cassandra shrugged. "They are quite rare and I have never heard of them being encountered on that scale."
"Thank whatever god for that," Bull chirped. "Those things were a pain in the ass to bring down. Had to completely sever them then light the whole lot on fire."
"The only true method to deal with such creatures," Cassandra nodded sagely.
"Dune," Solas called, grabbing the elf's begrudging attention. "I'm not sure if you were in a position within your clan to be told such things, but did you hear of another going missing in this area?"
"I'll 'ave yeah know," the Herald bristled. "That I was Ghi'myathe Tarlin thank yeah very much, so I would 'ave been privy to shit like that." She sighed, the wind quickly leaving her sails. "But no, never heard anything like it. The last clan wipe-out happened not long after the blight and took place up by Starkhaven. If those things were what was left of a clan it would 'ave happened decades ago." Solas nodded at her answer and seemed to tune out the rest of the conversation as he got lost in his head.
"What about you Seeker?" Varric once again prodded. "Anything memorable in your kill sheet."
"As a matter a fact Varric," she spit his name like a curse. "There was." she paused to gather her thoughts, "Not long after being named Right Hand of Divine Beatrix I was sent out to deal with an issue just outside Val Royeaux. A rather dim nobleman Comte Renald de Mourier was renting out the vast woodland upon his estate to those within the city that enjoyed hunting, he was a loyal patron to Beatrix and his family had sponsored her immensely when she was vying to be elected Divine. So when he sent a missive requesting aide she sent me personally to oversee the matter. When I arrived he was quick to inform me that his clients were not returning, they would go out on the hunt and just disappear. Any search parties he sent out either returned with corpses or empty-handed and it was ruining his business."
"Fuckin' twats could be knee-deep in dead and all they care abou' is coin yeah?" Sera chimed in causing the Seeker to snort and a few others to chuckle.
"Quite," she simply replied before continuing. "I set out with a few Templars to potentially locate the threat, hoping from the damage that it was just a pack of wolves that had grown a taste for fat easy orlesian meat," Sera's cackle and Dune's wheezy chuckle interrupted her this time, she waited for them to calm down. "Unfortunately that wasn't the case. A desire demon had managed to possess a stag and was louring desperate hunters on a chase to their deaths threw the forest with its tempting aura. Finding the massive thing with glittering golden horns and immaculate fur was easy, resisting temptation and pretending to ignore it so that it got close enough to ambush was the hard part." Cassandra shrugged, "three days of waiting in rain, losing two Templars to its enchantment and it finally got close enough to kill. To this day I believe Comte Renald de Mourier still has the thing's cursed head mounted over his fireplace. He takes credit for the kill and I care not to dissuade his fantasies."
The others laughed as Cassandra finished her tale, she was happy to see them smiling even though the phantom burn of losing two men lingered. She personally counted the mission as a failure due to the deaths that had occurred in her negligence, even with Beatrix's praise and stamp of approval. Dune must have noticed her quiet discomfort as the elf lent back into her embrace and patted her thigh lightly while the others continue to holler and poke fun at Comte Renald de Mourier. Eventually, they quieted down and Cassandra opted to turn the focus away from herself.
"What about you Varric," there was less acid in her tone this time when she addressed the dwarf. "What's the worst abomination that you have ever encountered?" His smile flickered and his eyes narrowed slightly, but instead of attacking her character, he opted to answer.
"It's tied between two," he scratched the back of his neck. "I don't know if one of them counts, but Orsino? I'm still not sure what exactly happened there..."
"Who's Orsino?" Dune prompted.
"That's not an easy question to answer Jay-Bird, I didn't know him all that well... But if I were to describe him it would be determined. Determined to a fault..."
It would take nearly two weeks for the group to return to Haven, the trip itself being not all that difficult just long and irksome. Both Cassandra and Dune were driving the others mad with their negative attitudes, Bull and Sera being the only ones to laugh the grumbling off. Three days into the trek the two miserable warriors were both given the go-ahead to spar and don their armour. Dune's spirits picked up immediately and she was back to jesting with the rest of the party in between practising sword stances. Cassandra on the other hand got to work and dragged everyone else into it. Forced the party to break for camp earlier than they usually would to practice shedding and re-donning their armour, only to depart before the sunrise to keep time.
An arduous task that was immediately rebuffed by any mention of the group's encounter with the hunger abominations and how things would have gone far better had they been able to equip their gear in a timely manner. So practice was implemented and forced, though Bull with his lack of armour and insistence that qunari learned how to fight in the nude easily got him out of the activity. Harding was also already adept at changing in and out of her gear at a moment's notice, a skill that was mandatory when serving as Leliana's Second no doubt. So the two of them passed the time while the rest struggled either pitching camp or watching the buffoonery unfold.
Solas was the first to master the technique. Sporting only a stiff vest and lightly armoured coat over his robes he got his time down quickly and was easily able to appease the Seeker. Sera surprisingly followed as she was already somewhat adept at donning her half hazard padding and leather from her Red Jenny runs. It was the removal that she slowed on, but she quickly conquered that as well. Varric was the third, though he might have been able to achieve the adequate time quicker in Cassandra's eyes if he had spent less time showing off his shirtless form and flirting with Bull and Harding. The latter rolled her eyes and laughed while Bull matched the dwarf word for word. Lastly, it was Blackwall, Dune and the Seeker herself who were struggling. Both human's wearing heavy plate with hard-to-reach buckles and the elf having layered herself in copious leathers to get around the light armour. Initially, Cassandra was going to ask Sera for aide as the elf was quicker with her gear, but when Dune reached over and unhooked the last two straps of the Seeker's breastplate with a flick of her wrist the argument died in her throat. Neither she nor the Herald noticed the odd look Varric and Sera shot each other after Dune quickly discarded Cassandra's armour, nor the snort Bull admitted. It was eventually decided that in the event of an emergency Varric would aide Blackwall with his gear and Dune would help Cassandra.
They had only three days left of their journey when Cassandra announced that she was satisfied with everyone's time and relieved them of the task. What cheers the statement received quickly died down when she insisted that in the future they would practice again to make sure no one lost their speed. Groans echoed around the campsite, harmonized with Bull's booming laugh.
Three days left accidentally turned into four not long after the party was given a break from their least favourite task to date. Though not on purpose, Dune merely asked Cassandra to spar before setting out, the group had gotten used to waking before the sunrise in order to avoid losing time on the road. No longer spending their evenings struggling with equipment Cassandra agreed to pass the time waiting for the sun. They practised with live weapons, as had been the case for their entire journey thus far due to not having room for bulky wooden blades, and worked each other to the brink. Pausing only to grab something to eat or drink they laid into each other with a speed and tenacity that stood unrivalled. If it were not for the grins and occasional advice those watching would have easily assumed that the women were actively trying to kill each other. Drenched in sweat and sporting only her hose and breast ban, Dune in a similar state but with her scarf and high collared tunic still firmly in place just soaked threw, the match was finally called a draw by Bull of all people. Exhausted with lungs burning and muscles aching Cassandra turned to ask for a few more moments to disarm the Herald only to notice the other woman's wheezing.
She was leaning heavily on her sword embedded in the ground, thistles wrapped around the entirety of her neck and torso in a desperate attempt to keep the elf standing as horrible choking gasps rattled from her lungs. Dune was in no condition to continue and doing so with live weapons would no doubt lead to a mis-strike, Cassandra did not want to be known as the woman who beheaded the Herald of Andraste in a sparring accident and she assumed vice versa. Nodding to Bull and relieving herself of her sword and shield she glanced at the sky and noted the midday position of the sun, choosing not to have to essentially hold the exhausted Herald to their horse Cassandra called for a rest day as the others reset camp. The Seeker grabbed for a canteen and found her way to her slumped friend now seated by a long-since cooled fire pit.
"Here," she said as she passed the drink over.
"... th... anks..." came the elf's hissed reply, concerning Cassandra farther.
"Are you-" she was cut off as Dune gulped down water and held up a hand to stop her, when the elf finished she flashed the Seeker a familiar toothy grin.
"I... m... fi... ne... does... nt... hur... t... ju... s... t... soun... ds... bad..."Dune said in broken speech. Cassandra nodded though her worry never left and she spent the rest of the day fussing over the Herald, who was far too tired to complain or snark and without Leliana around there was no one to call the Seeker a mother hen.
After the group's day of rest, more of a half-day for herself and Dune, they trudged on to Haven. Going so far as to encourage their horses into something just shy of a gallop once the snow-encrusted village came into view. They were all exhausted from the nearly two months spent travelling and looking forward to their beds that night. Cassandra could only laugh as the elf once scared of the beast she now rode, pushed it into a straight sprint for the stables and passed the others in the process. Scratchy hisses joined the Seeker's as the duo rapidly approached their makeshift horse pen, both sliding from the saddle and nearly collapsing with relief upon the ground. The others were quick to follow and celebrate their return. Bull, Sera and Blackwall, only having just arrived, seemed pleased enough to join in the revelry. The massive qunari even going so far as to dump an armload of snow directly onto Blackwall. Who took the attack and retaliated with his own powdery weaponry. Cassandra was not even mad when a ball of the stuff struck her upside the head, she turned and caught the Herald's mischievous gaze before retaliating. An all-out brawl broke out as the harrowed Inquisition members and their potential recruit dowsed each other in snow. The other soldiers standing by and watching with both awe and confusion. Most had heard the tales of the towering, stern and martial Seeker. Even a few had met the woman before her departure. Though none knew how to behave while watching her throw snow at the other Inquisition members with the enthusiasm of a child on Wintersend.
Cassandra's impromptu celebration was cut short by attention-grabbing throat clearing. She turned, snowball in hand and arm raised to strike Solas who had gotten her good moments prior, only to be met with the gaped stares of Cullen and Josephine as well as Leliana's trade mark smirk. Her face lit up scarlet as her un-fired ammunition slowly fell towards the ground. Cassandra opened her mouth to stitch together some sort of excuse, the only thing coming to mind was a poorly constructed line about a combat drill. Only for a glob of snow to sail over her shoulder and strike the Sister in the face. The arrival of the Inquisition's advisors may have not been enough to deter the others from their marry-making, but Leliana's shocked stare as she wiped snow off her form certainly did. Cassandra turned to sus out a culprit and was met with an equally shocked-looking Dune, who dropped her armload of ammunition and began profusely apologizing. The gesture halted when a blur moving at impossible speeds slammed into the Herald's head and knocked the elf onto her ass.
"Now," Leliana began as she dusted remnants of snow from her fingertips. "We are late for a debriefing, one in which the Seeker, Herald, and The Iron Bull are required to attend." Once finished the Sister turned on her heel and marched back with the other advisors towards the Chantry. Cassandra, Dune and Bull scrambled to follow as the sister hid her self-satisfied smirk from view.