Sorry for the delay between chapters. I've received several games and books at Christmas and have been heavily distracted by them.

As a player of many of the Call of Duty, Rainbow Six, and various other war games, Ronin could say that the aftereffects of a flashbang were greatly underrated in terms of duration and magnitude.

In a game, the blinding light and white noise caused by a flashbang would be gone in about ten seconds, give or take.

Real life… or as close as he was to it, different story. He'd been rolling on the ground for at least forty-five seconds, by his own count, and the partial blindness, ringing in his ears, and the inability to stand without falling over had yet to fade as video games would have led him to believe. He refrained from trying to draw a blade, as the attackers had yet to do anything to him and he didn't want to provoke them into stabbing him while he was still laid out on the ground. Getting sent to Dragon Age and dying from some Templar's sword ten years before the Blight? Disgraceful…

After a further thirty seconds, the inability to see clearly had died down immensely. On the one hand, it allowed him to see his attackers as what they really were: Templars of the Chantry, armor glistening in the sunlight that filtered down through the canopy. They appeared exactly how he remembered them from the game; the heavy plating, ridiculous shoulder guards, Sword of Mercy emblazoned on the chest, some sort of skirt of red mixed with chainmail.

More or less, gaudy tin cans.

A trio of them stood apart, dressed in loose clothing and light leather armor, much like the Dalish hunters they were standing over. They, too, had their torso armor proclaiming their allegiance to the Templars. That must be how none of us heard the clankers as they approached the camp, thought Ronin as he got to his knees, testing his sense of balance.

Damn. Still not good enough, he thought as his semi upright position was shaky at best. Though, at the moment, as a Templar in full plate approached, he did not mind looking shaken and unbalanced. Appearances can be deceiving and all that rubbish they taught us in high school.

The blade of the longsword put to his throat, however, was something he minded. Especially when his weapons were stripped from him; his bow thrown in the dirt, quiver, arrows, and long knives tossed behind him, knives unsheathed and discarded. All that was left were the throwing knives in his boots and the claws on his right hand. His cloak was also torn from his shoulders and the weapons piled on top of it, as if the Templar was going to wrap all the blades, bow and arrows in a bundle.

"Stay down, knife ear, if you know what's good for you." The Templar's voice was rough, gravelly, and given a metallic ring to it through his helmet. That being said, not overly intimidating in the scale of things. I've heard better.

"What are Templars doing here, shem?" asked Ronin, spitting the words. This day had started off with such promise, now this. "Can't you see that we're having a bonding?"

"In my opinion, you elves are all savages. Your bondings are nothing in the real world," sneered the Templar. Ronin could hear the smirk on his lips and wished his body was not still under the effects of the grenades. "You are a nothing. A speck of dust. You and all your ilk. Living in the dirt like animals, oblivious to the true ways of the world. The wiser among you recognize the shape of the future. They throw themselves at our feet and beg mercy. But not you, it seems. No... You cling desperately to your ways. Too ignorant to know your folly."

"In my opinion," said Ronin, slowly and quietly, making the Templar lean forward to hear, "You Templars spend way too much time in that fancy armor of yours. The sun's obviously fried your brains in your helmet."

Moving surprisingly fast for a man in a full set of armor, the Templar pulled his sword from Ronin's neck and slammed the pommel into the elf's head, knocking him back to the dirt he had recently vacated. The boot across his throat stopped him from getting his legs under him for the second time and the point of the sword thrust into the ground an inch from his face had him barely moving, except for using his hands to pry at the religious zealot's foot in an attempt to alleviate the pressure.

"That's it; struggle in the dirt like the worm you are," said the Templar, leaning on his knee, eyes glinting behind the slit of his helmet. Without fear of a counterattack, dismissing Ronin as a threat, he looked over his shoulder to where the other Templars had been. "Have you grabbed the mages yet?"

"Yeah! Got three of them!" came the reply to his shouted question. Due to his position on the ground with a foot across his windpipe – however ineffective it was – couldn't properly see the others. When he heard a rattle of chainmail and a sound of metal smacking flesh, he nearly ejected his claws. The only thing that saved the Templar's foot from becoming a shredded mass of torn flesh and exposed bone was that he had just removed it, moving it out of immediate range.

"Corram, Hadrian! Tie them up and get them on their feet," said the Templar as he walked away from the downed hunter, dragging the cloak he'd torn off that had all the elf's weapons on it, receiving a pair of 'Yes, sir!'s from the two Templars he named. Ronin glared after him as he got himself up into a fighting crouch, eyes searching for chinks in the Templars armor.

Beneath the arm, at the neck, at the crease of his elbows, the back of his knees, and the sides of his ankles, he thought, analyzing the armor. They were all targets that normally needed to be exposed before being struck, but two were easily acted upon as the Templar was not facing him.

With the clanking of his plate armor and the metallic swish of his chainmail drowning out even a normal foot tread, sneaking up on the agent of the Chantry would be too easy for a hunter of the Dalish. He only stopped after a few silent steps forward at a low whistle, coming from behind him.

Tamlen and his father stood behind him, their fists tight in rage and their stances mirroring his own. Cίrdan held Tamlen's arm, his one eye flicking between Ronin and the Templars while shaking his head. Ronin nodded, straightening from his crouch and leaving his paired throwing knives where they sat in their boot sheathes. He drifted back to stand beside them. "Have we got a plan?"

"The Templars have done this before, Ronin. Back before you and Tamlen were born," whispered Cίrdan, yanking back Tamlen as he tried to take another step towards the Templars. He stared his son in the eye, pinning him to where he stood. "We know how to handle this."

"How. Do. We. Handle this?" asked Tamlen, his voice strained and his eyes wild. Ronin could understand his position, of course, seeing how his wife - a Dalish mage – was in the hands of religious zealots with anti-mage abilities.

"We let them go."

Cίrdan calmly reached out with his other hand and caught Tamlen by the shoulder as he broke his father's hold on his arm. With a quick twist of his wrist and flexing of his fingers, the hahren brought Tamlen to his knees with little effort. "Hamin, Tamlen!"

"How am I supposed to be calm? They have my bondmate!"

"We shall get her back," replied his father, a grim look about his face. He unhooked his cane from where it hung at his belt and limped away from the pair of hunters, moving to where the rest of the clan was now standing. They all looked shaken and angry, some blinking away the last of the aftereffects of the flashbombs. Ronin noticed several of the older hunters exchanged looks with Cίrdan as he approached, nodding in agreement to whatever he was saying in the unspoken conversation.

"Cίrdan, we will be ready to move as soon as they are gone," said Aerandir – an older hunter and close friend of Cίrdan – his voice low as he looked towards the aravel. "We'd be able to move sooner, but only the Seconds were to be armed."

"Good, lethallin. Gather the others," he said, grasping his friend on the shoulder. "Tamlen, Ronin, be ready to move."

Tamlen was still confused as to what was currently going on and it was making him angry. "Hey! What are we doi–"

"Oi! Knife-ears!"

Ronin shook his head as he turned towards the speaker. These shem have no idea of the hornets nest they've kicked over, he thought as he quickly calculated the angle for his knife to punch through the slit in the man's helmet. The Templar was at the extreme of his range, but he was confident that he could hit him.

"You savages stay where you are!" shouted the armored Templar who had stood on Ronin's throat. "We see any of you tree hugging worms, we slit one of your mages' throats."

With that said, the Templars, both heavily armored and not, walked back into the trees, forcing the bound and gagged mages with them.

Marethari looked calm, despite the cut above her left eye dripping blood down that side of her face. She locked eyes with Ronin and gave him a slight nod and a smile through her gag. She knew they were coming after her and the other mages. She's probably gone through this before…

Merrill tried to emulate the Keeper's calm, but there were cracks in the façade. She ignored everything but Tamlen, her eyes shining with hope and unshed tears. As she disappeared, she smiled at Tamlen, as if to say everything would be alright in the end.

Altáriël was actively struggling against her bonds, trying to break free. She caught a backhand across the face, the Templar's metal-lined gauntlet leaving gouges in her faces, the blood mingling with the tears the flowed down her face. Even through a gag, Ronin and the rest could hear her sobs. Ronin could hear the teeth being ground all around him as every hunter wished for their bows at this particular moment.

She's probably been hit by some of the Templar's anti mage stuff… like Smite… thought Ronin as she was dragged out of sight.

"Move. Now!" said Cίrdan.

As one, the entirety of the clan sprang into action. Ronin ran over to his weapons and strapped everything back on, checking that everything was in working order. His knives had been unsheathed as the Templar disarmed him, but that was easily cleaned. His bow and arrows were in good condition, so there were no problems with that. Fully armed once again, he turned back to look for Tamlen, but nearly ran into Cίrdan.

"Ronin, you're in charge of the rescue," he said, holding up his hand to halt any protest before it could be voiced. He looped his arm around the younger hunter, leading him towards the aravel, so that they could speak privately. "You're angry, but not enough where it'll cloud your judgement. Tamlen would do something rash and get himself killed trying to take all of them single handed."

Ronin sighed, nodding at the hahren's logic. "What's the plan?"

"Closest human village is three days from here, a town called Ironbrook. They're probably headed that way. They won't stay in the forest for long, with us. They'll make for the safety of their Chantry, where there'll definitely be more of the Templars."

"So we stop them before they make it out of the Brecilian Forest?" asked Ronin, grabbing some trail rations from his aravel, stowing them in several pockets in his cloak and armor. He grabbed a coil of rope, just in case they took a Templar hostage to try and exchange for their mages. Besides, you never know what when you're going to need some rope…

"Hopefully, yes. If not, harry them all the way to Ironbrook if you have to."

"There's only fifteen of them."

"We only saw fifteen. They could have a camp or reinforcements waiting for them."

"True," said Ronin, having not thought of that in his haste. "We'll just have to adapt if that's the case."

"Good, good. Now, we're moving the camp east, deeper into the forest," said Cίrdan, pointing off into the trees. "We'll leave markings for you when you are done."

"Very well," returned the younger hunter. He looked over to the clearing where, just an hour ago, the bonding had taken place. Now, it was a flurry of motion as gear and personal items were packed away as quickly as possible. He noted Tamlen angrily pacing amongst the other hunters who had assembled.

Tamlen had torn off his wedding clothes as fast he could, quickly replacing it with some light clothing of the same type that he usually wore under his heavier armor. His sword belt was quickly cinched around his waist, making the chainmail he wore jingle as the leather forced it to move. His shield was thrown over his shoulder, the thick leather strap holding it in place as he bounded over to stand by the other hunters who had gotten their own gear.

He looked like he was ready to run off on his own and try to take the Templars down on his own, so Ronin reached out and pushed him down onto a log with a glare that said 'stay down or else.' He struggled for a second but quickly relaxed when Cίrdan appeared at his side; his hand on Tamlen's other shoulder and calming words in his ear.

He relaxed a bit as the other hunters assembled around him, Cίrdan and Ronin, performing last second checks as they waited for Tamlen's father to speak.

"Hunters!" shouted Cίrdan, bringing all twelve hunters to a halt. A fire was in the eye of the hahren, one that Ronin had seen once before. He felt a chill right down to his bones, remembering the massacre that had followed that look. "Templars have invaded a sacred bonding!"

The hunters roared their disapproval, startling the others of the clan who were in the process of packing up the clan's aravel. They were moving camp, their position compromised, to ensure that the Templars could not just come back and find their mages again. As usual, packing the camp would take barely any time at all, since they never stayed in one place for too long.

"They've kidnapped our mages!" yelled Cίrdan, staring each of the hunters in the eye as he limped through the group. His roar was drowned out as the hunters screamed out war cries once more.

"They've kidnapped my son's bondmate!" Tamlen's howl of pain and outrage rang loudest amongst the hunting party. The raw emotion in his scream hit deep in every hunter's chest, striking a chord that brought shades of red across their vision.

Now, the hunters weren't just angered at the kidnapping. There were lines you did not cross with elves, particularly the Dalish, where family is one of the most important things to them.

They were enraged.

"Will we allow this transgression to stand?" asked Cίrdan, his voice low and dangerous after the rumbling thunder it had been just seconds ago. "Will we let these humans take our family?"

"No!" roared the hunters, Ronin, Theron and Tamlen loudest amongst them. Their blood pumping, adrenaline running through their veins, and their breathing fast and shallow.

"Well, lethallin, lethallan," said the Tanika Sumanitu Taka, his eye dangerous.

He whispered one word, one syllable that unleashed angry Elvhen upon unsuspecting humans:

"Hunt."