"Captain!" cried a scout from somewhere in the distance. Rylen looked up from the map of the Approach to listen through the tarp of his operations tent. "The Chevalier and his troops are approaching."
"About damn bloody time," Rylen muttered darkly, shoving himself off the desk. The movement sent a few reports fluttering to the floor but instead of picking them up, he kicked them away in irritation. He was in one of those dark moods where everything was pissing him off. Where just the sight of all the reports and maps spread out on every available space made him want to crawl under a rock and stay there.
It didn't help that was exactly what he and his troops were bloody doing.
Upon his return to the Griffons Wing Keep, Rylen was swarmed with reports—none of them pleasant—about what had happened while he was away. Barely more than a week, and it was like the desert had gone to total shit and a fucking Blight was threatening to swallow the world. That would just be bloody perfect.
It had been all he could do to attempt to restore some fucking order without incurring any heavy casualties. In the end, he had to call everything in—every outpost, every patrol, every camp—and twiddle his thumbs instead. At the War Council he had the foresight to ask for reinforcements. Lucky, that. Waiting was agonizing with the desert swarming up around them. Rylen had to hope all the beasts didn't get too hungry before their help arrived.
Then bad news turned to worse news. After receiving a missive about a High Dragon sniffing around the outskirts, Rylen had no choice but to send an urgent message to Cullen asking for more aid. As if the bloody dragon wasn't enough, he'd even heard there was some idiot who was batty enough to want to poke it in the eye. Neither the dragon nor the moron that antagonized her meant good news for their crumbling outpost in the Approach. Although he hated to write again so soon—he felt like a child with his hand outstretched—the necessity made them all do things he didn't like. He had to write for still more soldiers (or a bleeding miracle if they could find one lying around) and the soldiers had to let the Venatori do whatever they pleased for a while.
Luckily, no one else in their right minds was stupid enough to try and live in the Approach. There were no civilians to protect. That, at least, was a meager comfort to Rylen.
He shoved the tent flaps aside and let himself back out into the oppressive heat that had also rolled in while he was away. A heat wave, a melting lieutenant had told him. If Rylen had thought he'd felt the worst before, it was nothing compared to a fucking heat wave in this shit hole.
Stomping away from the tent that served as his shitty office, what slight lift in his spirits he had felt about the arrival of additional troops evaporated in the sun. Everyone parted for him as he stamped through the keep to meet Chevin at the doors. He was sure he wore a scowl that was about as pleasant as this fucking desert. Good.
They greeted each other as Chevin handed his reigns to the waiting stable boy. Rylen felt a smug smile tug at his face as he watched the Chevalier lift his helmet from his head and saw his straw colored hair already in sweaty disarray.
"Maker's balls, Rylen!" Chevin moaned as they shook hands. "I never took your complaints to heart, but this...the heat is torture!"
"Tell me about it," Rylen grunted, unamused.
Chevin motioned for his men to tend their horses before following Rylen back through the keep, all seriousness again.
"Now about those Venatori…"
"Barris had said the outfit we so unceremoniously cut down was only a small party of a larger squadron that's holed up in some dusty ruins, the whereabouts of which, my men still have not been able to pinpoint. We had tried to trace their trail at first; that is until all the local wildlife noticed there was a feast for the taking here at Griffon's Wing. It's been tricky to get out since. As you can imagine, our food and water supplies are starting running low." Rylen heaved a long sigh. "It seems that ever since the Wardens were chased off, the list of ravenous creatures grows each day. Not the ones that are the least concerning being Varghests, Phoenixes, and a Dragon—"
"A dragon!?"
"—yes. Welcome to the Western Approach, Chevin."
Upon reaching Rylen's tent, they ducked into the questionable respite of the shade. He motioned Chevin forward to the map on his desk.
"I had planned for you to escort the scouting parties as they pick up the Venatori. But since the sand is coming alive now, I've asked Commander Cullen for more soldiers—"
"Are you expecting things to get worse?"
"In case you hadn't noticed, they already are worse. What I'm waiting for is a disaster."
Chevin shifted from foot to foot. "Surely you are just being pessimistic." Rylen noticed his usual casual stance was stiffer, his hand holding a little tighter to his sword. "It's as if we do not have enough problems already."
"We'll be fine. Once we get the hyenas out of our hair," he grunted. Rylen didn't like how restless the other man became. It would be all he needed for the Chevalier to try and pull some glowing heroics. "Something on your mind?"
He shrugged. "Personal trifles, my friend, nothing I cannot handle." When the man met Rylen's searching gaze, a grim smile had replaced the unease. "When we report back, it shall only be good news. Of that, you can be assured. Now, show me that dragon."
Rylen shook away the desire to press further—let the ass keep it to himself then—and turned back to the map. "The beast seems to stay over here, in this area, however, the Maker seems to take particular delight in making me squirm. Some sod in a camp around there somewhere is trying to get us to help him study the infernal thing. Says the Inquisition could use the research. I think it's a load of shit, personally. If he wanted to get his own ass singed then fine—be my bloody guest—but I'm not about to send good soldiers to be a dragon's supper.
"The Venatori party we intercepted was here. None were left alive. My fault, that. I'll take complete blame. I led that operation and I was…out of sorts that day. I wasn't thinking clearly and now we have no idea where they were even headed. We tried to pin their trail down and were chased off by a pack of Phoenixes. That will be where you come in. Two of my men were injured in that fight. One dead." Rylen's face darkened. Of all the things in the Maker's world, wanton casualties were what he detested the most. It made life in the Circle unbearable at times, and it made the relief efforts in Kirkwall a personal crusade. "Doesn't take much to be poisoned, and once it's there, you're a goner. It's just a matter of time before the two survivors to go to the Maker's side too…"
"My condolences." Chevin reached over and squeezed Rylen's shoulder. Any other day, he might have shrugged him off. "You are not to blame, though I know that will not matter to you much. We can take your desert back, at least. I recall you mentioning rifts when you were in Skyhold?"
Thankful for the subject change, Rylen nodded. "A few. And mighty odd ones, at that. I've ordered my outposts to retreat, they kept a keen eye on them. Not so many demons, but some survivors say they are not unlike the ones they saw in Redcliffe before the Venatori took over."
"Redcliffe? What is so different about these rifts?"
"Got me," Rylen said with a shrug. "I'm no expert."
The other man shook his head as his eyes darted over the markers on the map. Rylen waited patiently for the grasp of their dire situation to set in on him. A shout, a moan, fainting, anything would have made more sense than the spark of amusement that jumped into his eyes. Chevin beamed like a schoolboy.
"What?" Rylen demanded. There were a lot of reactions he had expected after informing Chevin of the shitstorm he had just stepped into; his laughter was not among them.
"It's just…there is much to do, isn't there? I do not know why you needed me to help you to get the Inquisitor out here. I would think you have plenty excuse to ask for her help!"
Rylen scowled at his friend and was only just able to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "I never fucking said I needed your help to get the Inquisitor here, you did! And I don't see how you can take all this so lightly! My love life is no concern right now, not when faced with all this shit."
"Au contraire, my friend. I think this is a perfect opportunity."
"No. Keram has better things to do! I'm not about to beg her on my knees to come save me from this fucking desert," he snarled. "I am the captain here, and I am capable of seeing to this myself! As soon as the reinforcements arrive, we can further our plans to cut back the fucking wildlife, slay the Maker-damned dragon, and smoke out all those Venatori fucks—"
"Will you court her with a severed dragon's head?"
Rylen choked on his words and regarded Chevin incredulously. He swallowed his biting remark and allowed himself to think about it for a moment. "You know, Chevin…for once…" He found himself smirking in spite of himself. "That's not a half-bad idea…"
"I heard they like that sort of thing," Chevin chuckled. "Just be sure your hair does not catch fire. It would ruin your roguish looks."
Rylen barked a short laugh. "Oh, shut up."
"Captain!"
They both turned as a nervous scout pushed her way through the tent flaps.
"Report," Rylen growled, moving around his desk to square up to the lass.
"I…uh…it-it's…at the gate…"
Exchanging a quick dubious glance, Rylen and Chevin pushed past her and went back into the Maker forsaken heat.
"Your scouts usually so nervous?" Chevin asked him, arching an eyebrow.
"No. I wonder what's got them spooked…" Whatever it was, Rylen was certain he wouldn't like it. It could only be another thing on his list of absolute shit he would have to slog though. As they approached the gates, Rylen was just starting to wonder if the Maker had it out for him.
He met the beautiful green eyes that had started to haunt his dreams and had invaded his every waking thought when she was away.
"Captain," Keram greeted as she handed her horse off to a trembling scout. Something like a smirk played across her face. "I heard you could use a hand out here."
It took less bloody time to bring Keram—no, the Inquisitor—up to speed on the Approach than it took to gear up an outfit of soldiers to brave the sands. Rylen oversaw them restlessly, barking at them when they started shuffling too slowly for his liking. With nothing more to scowl at, he took to watching Keram—no, the Inquisitor, damnit—out of the corner of his eye. She had the Iron Bull with her, again, (and Rylen tried not to be too offended by the Qunari's presence given her clear preference for him, but fucking Andraste if he wasn't getting incensed by watching the man touch her too affectionately) as well as the Seeker and that dwarf, Varric. They whispered together, idling as they waited for Rylen's soldiers. Which made him want to rage at the sods more for keeping Keram—the Inquisitor!—waiting.
Damn embarrassing was what it was. Remember to drill these fucks on preparedness in the middle of the fucking night, Rylen thought irritably, scuffing at the dirt with his boot. He'd feel a whole lot better about everything if the Inquisitor had never mentioned how she looked forward to watching him perform. Her words wouldn't have meant so much to him, if there hadn't been that damn gleam in her eyes that drove him fucking wild. There was a double meaning to it, he was sure. It was so glaringly obvious that Chevin had snorted and tried to cover it with a cough. As she left the tent, Chevin had pulled Rylen aside.
"Since the Inquisitor has arrived, you will not mind if we exchange places? Why don't you escort their party instead, Captain? I would be more than happy to stay in this shady spot and hold down the fort while you go and fight with our illustrious leader." With a dramatic sigh he added, "We all must make sacrifices sometimes."
"I…yes, but shove off!" Rylen had spluttered, unable to fully keep the smile from his face.
Rylen might have been excited at the prospect at first, but the more he thought about it, the less sure he became. The Inquisitor's every word became a puzzle and Rylen was piss poor at them. He was getting more than a little tired of guessing at her advances.
The woman would probably let him guess all day long, too. He felt like he could guess until he turned blue in the face and he would still have no idea of what the fuck she wanted from him. What he needed to do was grow a fucking pair and ask. That is what he needed to do.
He glanced back over at her little band and roved over her for the…fuck, Maker only knew how many times it was now. If the Qunari didn't like what he said, she could rip him in half faster than he could raise his sword. If she didn't want the same thing he did, he…he didn't know what he would do. More than likely, he would keep giving to her because he wouldn't be able to fucking help himself. And when she was done with him, perhaps he'd go and climb into the dragon's jaws and hope it doesn't chew.
You're a fool, Rylen. A Maker damned idiot. He was frustrated with himself for allowing himself to get this far into this…whatever this was. He was far too invested and he knew it. From slinking back for another sodding fix, to allowing her swaying hips and gemstone eyes to occupy his thoughts. All because of a simple encounter he had let spiral out of control. There were rules for these fucking things and he had broken all of them. And now heeven dared to consider throwing them out entirely. Fuck it then. Fuck all the rules of casual sex. But what are you going to do then, Rylen, hmm? What?
Lass, would you like to go for dinner sometime?
In a desert? No that was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.
Keram, I don't know what this is, or what you meant it to be, but I've got to tell you before I go mad: I can't stop thinking about you, lass, and if we could just—
No. Rubbish.
I'm terrified of you, but I'd like for you to continue fucking me senseless. Just me, mind. Also, if you could fire that mercenary, I would greatly appreciate it.
His lips twitched into a wry smile. If only, right?
A fully armed and ready lieutenant stepped up to Rylen and drove his attempts at mentally seducing the Inquisitor away. "Ser, we are ready to depart," she said with a salute.
"About bloody time," Rylen spat. "Ke-Inquisitor! My forces are ready to move out with yours!"
"Very good, Captain," she replied with a nod. She and her companions joined Rylen at the gate and she surveyed his men critically. He felt himself bristle and stood ready to defend any accusation she had against his men. Until he caught sight of that teasing gleam. "Can you keep up?"
Rylen smirked. "Are demons falling from the sky?"
"Not for long…" A nasty sort of grin spread over her face and Rylen arched an eyebrow at her. Not that he would ever say so, but it was startlingly attractive in its own devilish way.
Fuck...he...he was too far gone, wasn't he? Maker take his bloody soul.
The wildlife was waiting for them as soon as they stepped out of the keep.
They were overrun by enough skulking Hyenas that all Rylen could see were flashes of barred teeth and brown spotted fur. Thank the bloody Maker they had the Inquisitor though. The pack that had gathered on their doorstep might have made short work of any regular parties that tried to leave, but the added advantage of having a mage was proving more useful than he could have guessed.
Her magic was just as ferocious as her grappling had been. The Inquisitor set fire to the very ground around the soldiers' feet, scattering the Hyenas before they could properly regroup for an attack and when they were far enough away, tendrils of the Fade wrapped around their legs and dragged them to the ground. Rylen could feel the pull of the rift magic at the edges of his lyrium under his skin, and it made his stomach churn uncomfortably. But there was no arguing with the results. Defenseless, the Hyenas became short work for the soldiers, and no one was lost. Not even bitten.
In the end, the method didn't matter, the results were alright in his book.
Rylen yanked his blade from one of the shaggy beasts. Maker take you, and your creepy laughter, he thought, trying to shake the eerie sound away until he was distracted by a lovelier one.
"Not bad, Captain," Keram hummed, drawing level with him. She looked over the brown bodies littering the ground and chuckled. "I got four. You?"
Rylen blinked, dumbstruck. Was she…flirting? Over Hyena corpses? Go with it, you idiot. "Not to brag, your Worship, but I counted seven for myself."
She arched an eyebrow and smiled, and Rylen felt his heart beat faster. She were, wasn't she? Qunari were the strangest things. "I'm almost impressed."
Shaking his head, Rylen considered keeping his response to himself, but it would have been a crime. "You're hard to please, Inquisitor. But I knew that already." He winked.
Her trill of giggles made Rylen grin.
"Hey, Boss!" Rylen could have punched that Hassarath fuck in the face. "You were looking for a rift, right? Well, you got one!"
Their gazes followed the Iron Bull's finger and Rylen groaned. A rift spluttered to life, crackles of green energy reaching out to the ground, clawing like fingers. He hefted his shield again and made to rally his troops forward.
"Captain!" rang the panicked cry of a soldier. "Varghests coming up the slope!"
He whirled and watched the slinking beasts lumber over the sand. These creatures were thin and bony, their overlapping scales dull, paws dragging through the dunes. But as soon as they caught the scent of human, sniffing tentatively with flat noses, their ears perked. That was bloody perfect, wasn't it? Rylen could have done without more stinking desert creatures. The pair changed course and headed for the party, saliva dripping from gaping jaws. These fuckers were hungry, and Rylen's solders were ripe for gutting.
A roar behind him made him turn. Two tall, spindly Terror demons stretched from the rift, twisted horns protruding from all over their stretched grey skin. With another crackle, another massive demon joined them. It rose from a fiery vortex in the earth, roaring to life in a burst of flame, mottled grey and black and red. The Rage Demon left a scorched trail behind it as it drifted, the sand grains glittering in the sun as it turned to glass. Then more kept spewing forth—where did it end? Half glimpsed shapeless spirits that shimmered as they moved, ghosting in a world that was not their own. They would have to be banished back, and Rylen's blood sang with the desire to be the one to do it.
But he had other duties out here, like keeping his soldiers alive, and the Inquisitor safe. They took precedence over his fifteen years of training. As if it was nothing but second nature to him, Rylen's mind raced at a hundred paces a minute, calculating their odds.
"Inquisitor, rifts are your business. We'll keep the Varghests off you. Go!"
Without waiting for Keram's response, Rylen raised his sword and turned away. Running forward, his shield in hand, he led his men towards the things that wanted to eat them. He shouted to draw their attention further, and he was unlucky enough that it was working. Without the Inquisitor behind them burning the beast's feet to keep them away, he knew shields would be the only things between them and snapping jaws. Time to see if all his drilling was worth a damn.
"Raise your shields!" he snapped at his men. The handful he'd chosen to accompany him were no raw recruits, but the sight of two stalking Varghests had them nervous. Not that Rylen could blame them, the bat snouted creatures looked like bloody demons well enough, the likes of which only resided in the Fade. And if they weren't careful, the creatures would just as soon drag them there. Behind him, Rylen heard the rustle and clank of plate. He didn't dare confirm with his eyes; to look away from the spitting creatures before him would surely mean his end—and he was just beginning to bloody like living again. "On me."
The soldiers fanned out behind him, forming a barrier between the bristling creatures and the Inquisitor's party and then advanced on the animals. Rylen chanced one last glance over his shoulder at Keram. No more surprises; she had made it to the rift and engaged the true demons. The fierce warrior mage would be fine—at least that's what he hoped. The lyrium singing in his veins made him want to join the real blighted fight, but with any luck, he could lend his aid soon enough. Varghests would just have to do for the time being. Rylen nodded curtly to himself before snarling his own challenge at the two hissing beasts.
They snapped their maws menacingly at the line of shields glinting in the sunlight. They paced back and forth around each other, twisting and winding together, drawing ever closer, calculating the worth of attacking steel-clad men. Come on, you fucks. I know you're hungry. I've got something you can taste, Rylen thought with a sneer, eyeing one animal that was more restless than the other. You can't resist, we both fucking know it. Finally, the restless one let out a low pitched whine and darted forward. Rylen braced his feet in the sand and waited. The animal connected hard against his defense and, grunting from the effort, he forced the creature back with the solid crunch of metal connecting with its skull.
"Flank it," he ordered through gritted teeth, steadying himself as the Varghest recovered its feet. It kept searching for a weakness in Rylen's defense, darting forward and back, but he met each attack with his shield. Battle coursed through his blood, his feet kicking up sand as he whirled and danced with the creature like they were old, familiar partners.
A surprised shout made him glance away from his opponent for a moment. He saw the other Varghest steadily picking through his soldiers' defenses, batting away their shields with its claws and nipping at their feet to force them off balance. They wouldn't last long if they kept giving it leeway. He scowled. Fucking blighters. They were going to be killed if they didn't get their shit together. "Watch that other one! Two shields in front, keep the mouth occupied. Two in back, and cut it down!"
In hindsight, maybe he complained a bit too much about how lazy his troops were day to day. For no sooner had his orders left his mouth, than his soldiers' snapped to. Satisfied he wasn't going to lose an idiot to another one of these fuckers, he smiled nastily at his own Varghest and challenged it with a vicious snarl. He glimpsed two of his men over the top of his shield, edging around Rylen to the creature's unprotected hindquarters. He bellowed at the Varghest to keep it from realizing it was getting flanked and bashed it hard on the nose with the pommel of his sword. Come on, fucker! Eyes on me. I'm the only one that matters here! The creature hissed angrily, shaking the blow away before it sprung forward again. Rylen batted its attack aside with his shield and followed it with a swipe of his blade that glanced uselessly off its overlapping scales. The enraged animal twisted and snapped at his arm too late; he ducked back behind his guard. It was a dance—a precarious one—that relied heavily on the prowess of his men. But Rylen had no reservations about their ability.
"Any time now!" Rylen spat irritably. His arm buckled under the force of the Varghest pawing at the metal in frustration. Suddenly, the animal leapt off him, howling in pain.
He took the brief moment of respite to glance back towards the rift. Keram was fighting off a demon who had the misfortune of drawing too close to her. She wielded the blade of her staff as well as any sword, slicing hard before shooting the spirit form full of lightning. She didn't seem any worse for wear, just a vicious and indomitable force. Rylen only had a moment to appreciate how fucking spectacular she was. Then he spotted it: a hulking Rage demon cast off the Seeker's attacks and sent her flat to the ground with a fiery bellow before it started sliding straight for Keram.
"Captain!"
His warning shout lodged itself in Rylen's throat as the Varghest's front claws caught on the edge of his shield and ripped it away from his grasp. The men sticking the creatures flank cried out to him. Rylen watched the beast spring forward, baring its razor sharp teeth in an ugly, hissing snarl. Long claws scraped against his breastplate. Rylen lost his footing. He raised his arm just as it collided and threw him to the ground. The wind knocked out of him as the beast landed heavily on his chest. White hot lances of pain shot through his body, serrated edges sinking through his mail. Rylen cried out as the beast savagely shook its head, his arm feeling like it was going to be ripped from its socket with every lurch.
"Get this fucking blighter OFF ME!"
His men scrambled into action, whaling on the Varghest with their swords. It shrieked like mad, but refused to relinquish Rylen's arm. Blind with the pain that burned inside him, Rylen's other hand balled into a fist. Snarling like an animal, Rylen smashed it into the fucker's nose, but instead of relinquishing him, it clamped harder and shook its great head again. He cried out in pain as it bit deeper and prayed it wouldn't take his fucking arm.
Out of nowhere, a barrage of magic imbued rocks finally knocked the Varghest's grip loose. Before it could realize what happened, Rylen kicked it hard, sending it toppling over onto its back. His soldiers used its vulnerable belly to their advantage. Rylen rolled and glimpsed Keram, hand outstretched towards him, her snarl in place, before her attention was yanked back to the rift. A small exhausted smile stretched over his lips. Thanks, Qunari, but you really should be paying attention to— The ground below Keram's feet bubbled and oozed with thick blackness but she was too busy raising a wall of fire between a stunned Iron Bull and his demon attacker. Rylen saw the great, horned Terror Demon on the other side of the rift summoning the blackness to catch Keram off guard.
And she had no fucking idea.
Rylen grabbed his gear, sprung to his feet and sprinted towards her. He tugged his shield back in place despite the agonizing protests of his mauled arm and ducked himself low as he raced. He barreled into her, knocking her away from the portal as the Terror demon sprung up out of the ground.
It threw its head back and split the air with its raspy, immobilizing shriek. None of that! Rylen snarled, feeling the prickle of lyrium buzzing to life beneath his skin, combating the stunning effects of the demon's cry. He dashed forward, swinging his sword upwards in a wide arc and hacked off one of its outstretched arms without even flinching. Thick black blood splattered the ground as the demon's cry turned to outrage. Rylen neither knew nor cared if the bloody thing truly felt the sword's sting, he lived for the rippling ebb of Fade twisted magic. Something about killing demons made his blood roar in his ears. He threw his body forward and pierced the emaciated stomach, wrenching his sword sideways in its gut.
"Rylen, down!"
Keram didn't have to tell him twice.
He fell flat to his stomach as a deadly fireball roared over his head and consumed the flailing, screaming demon. Maker! Rylen turned his face away from the blistering heat, and tried to ignore the sickening flip of his stomach as Keram's powerful magic prickled at the edges of his lyrium infused skin.
"Keram, the Rage demon! If you got it, ice would be fantastic, lass," Rylen shot at Keram as he sprung back to his feet.
She scowled. "This isn't my first demon fight—"
Rylen didn't wait to hear her complaints. He dashed away from her, shouting at the growling Rage demon. He pounded against his shield and drew the demon from where it loomed over Varric's body. Don't be dead, dwarf! he thought madly. Who's going to tell everyone about this if you're dead?
"Seeker!" Rylen shouted. "Help Varric! I'll take the demon."
The great monster turned, glaring at the flurry of movement around it, fiery eyes blazing as it sought a new threat.
"Hey! Here! I'm not scared of you, you great, oversized candle," Rylen sneered at it. His skin pricked all over, immune against the flashes of destructive fire magic that rolled off the demon in waves. It slunk towards him, the sweltering heat becoming more and more unbearable as it drew closer. Sweat dripped down his neck and into his eyes. Rylen waited with baited breath. Closer…Closer you blighted creature… Inside him, the lyrium began to hum loudly, singing in his ears. It was so closely intertwined with his body in the heat of battle that he couldn't figure where he ended and where it began, but, Maker, it came alive in the presence of his sworn enemy. When he was fulfilling his holy vows—his sole purpose for being—they were one in the same.
Rylen's eyes closed for an instant. 'I pity your folly, But still more do I pity those whose lives you have taken,' he intoned the well-worn Chant to keep his focus. Raw power coursed through him. He trembled with the pent energy of it, sheer force of will containing it just below his skin—'In pursuit of selfish goals'—it vibrated in his veins until—there! He raised his sword to the sky, bellowing from its tumultuous concussive force. 'No more will you bear the Light!'
The very heavens split in a blinding flash. Rylen directed the holy energy with his blade and the demon was enveloped by the brilliant white beam of light. 'To darkness flee! And be gone from My sight!' It roared, ghostly and reverberating at it tore asunder from within. I send you back to your Maker's side, Demon, Rylen spat vehemently. Let Him sort you out. The creature split into a thousand shimmering fragments, the light dissipating with the corrupted spirit, nothing but the ethereal whine of its death. Rylen staggered back, the intense burning in his blood replaced with exhausted tingling as every cell danced with the spent lyrium magic.
Somewhere in the echoing recesses of Rylen's exhausted mind, he heard the crackle of the rift coming to life. He sagged, panting. His shield felt heavy. The pounding ache that ran up his arm with each heartbeat returned full force. He was sluggish as he spun. Phew! What…? His head reeled, the edges of his vision blurring and blending. What the fuck?
Keram held her arm in the air, teeth gritted, the Mark spluttering with green sparks. Was this how she closed Rifts? Ghostly green illuminated her features in harsh light. Rylen couldn't decide if he was fascinated by her or downright intimidated.
Intimi…intimi-dated. He chuckled. Intimi-date me, Inquizitorr.
Rylen felt a splitting pain in his skull and his limbs grew three times as heavy. So much so that he swayed unsteadily. What the-what the...fuck? Colors assaulted his vision in violent cacophony. The green of the rift making him sick, the blue of the sky making him dizzy, the sand swirling up around him, threatening to swallow him whole. The desert would keep him forever, body and soul, choked beneath the dunes. And suddenly he was terrified.
He tried to fight his senses with sluggish swipes of his weapons, reeling on unsteady feet.
"And your count now, Captain?" he heard Keram chuckle, though her deep voice sounded strange in his ears. Loud and soft, and…deafening!
"Yelldon', 'Quizz." His tongue was thick and heavy. Wha'? Rylen's head spun, tossing him as violently as the sea. "Lazz, I...uh…" His knees buckled and he just barely caught himself with a stumble.
"Captain?"
"Sit?" He collapsed forward into Keram's open arms. If only his head wasn't splitting and his vision wasn't dancing with blinding flashes. Otherwise he would have been overjoyed to have found his face in her lovely tits again.
"Rylen!"
The Iron Bull drew near to them and Rylen looked up at the other man indignantly. How dare he try to encroach on this? His time! He wanted to tell the bloody giant to fuck off, this was his woman. Wasn't she? Maybe not. No, yes? He wanted to say so, he wanted to ask her but his lips felt thick and his tongue swollen in his throat.
"Dijyuu sniff—"
"Poison, Boss," the Iron Bull snorted.
"Poison?" Keram looked down on Rylen dubiously. He met her searching gaze with a hopeful smile. Rylen wanted so badly to tell her that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. Both of her! "Will he be all right?"
Awh, wee lass is worried for me! Rylen giggled happily, delight settling comfortably in his stomach. He lay his head against her tits again and snuggled closer, grinning.
Bull laughed. "Poison from a Varghest? Nah. Big, tough, warrior like him? He'll walk it off."
"Tha's righ'," Rylen slurred. "I'm fiii." He attempted to stand on his own but his feet were shaking like a newborn calf's. It took all of his effort just to think about standing upright. Whend he get so fuckin' heavy? Fatigue taking him, he let himself sag back into Keram's embrace. "I jus' need rest. Here's good…"
"Uhh, why don't you take everyone onward, Bull. I'll stay with the Captain until he's well again."
"Sure thing, Boss." Before he left, Bull patted Rylen heavily on his back. "Hang in there, Basvaarad."
"Don' touch, sniff."
"Alright, Rylen… Let's sit and take a look."
Rylen turned his unfocused eyes up at the glorious vision before him and smiled, wide and giddy. "You, lass…horned lady…"
"I know," she said, easing the two of them to the ground.
"You…fuckin' beauty, y'know?"
She laughed. "That so?"
"Fuck…yeah…" He almost felt a little better on the ground, almost coherent. Here, however, the dizziness was replaced with an overwhelming desire to vomit over the stones. He gulped several times with a dry throat to keep the nausea down.
Keram pried his shield off his arm—"Fuckin' ow!"—and eased off his gauntlet. Rylen never figured himself for squeamish, but the interspersed ragged bite marks oozing yellowed pus was bringing back his urge to be sick. "Blighted lizard fucks," he gasped turning away.
"Not too deep. You fought them fiercely, Rylen." He heard her digging in her pack, hissed at the stinging as thick liquid poured over his arm, and relaxed at the feel of her long, warm fingers bandaging his forearm.
"Horned lass…you're a-a savior. For a mage…fuck, you're fantastic."
"For a mage."
He found it in his dazed consciousness to realize he had said something wrong. He blushed. "N-no! It's not that, it's just…" Rylen groaned and tried to think past his whirring thoughts to string something more coherent together, something to tell her… "You're jus'…so beau'ifle an' I jus'…" He panted with the effort of thinking. Rylen shook his head in a vain hope to clear it and instantly regretted it. It nearly made him violently sick. "I…you mean so'much. In my head…" He gestured vaguely to his forehead. "All the time!"
Keram watched him wordlessly, and Rylen squinted, unable to discern anything from her. He wanted to kiss her, but didn't trust himself to even find her lips on his own. Already, he knew he was making an ass of himself and he refused to add to it by accidentally snogging her chin. So to distract himself, he babbled. If he kept talking to fill the silence, he only hoped that eventually he would make sense. If nothing else, it was clearing his body of some of the furious bubbling.
"Magic? Doe'n't matter. I jus' need to be near you, all time. Fuck. Stupid fuckin' bat demons. Why's ev'rything in this fuckin' place poisonous?!"
Keram giggled at him, and he shot her a dopey grin. Maybe the poison would be good for something. He could find a measure of sanity, couldn't he? Asking her to be his now gave him an out. If things went south, he could write it off as being delirious and if she didn't appreciate the attention in the slightest maybe she would take mercy on a poisoned sod. Seemed as good a ploy as any in his drugged mind.
"Lass, you keep findin' me an' I don' git why. I'm not…not so great, you know? I'm...just Rylen, nothing really. Not like you. Fuck." Rylen took a deep, cleansing breath and felt some measure of his mind come back to him. Enough to feel a peal of nervousness explode inside him. "I don' know why you come to me, an' I don' know why I think of you, but I…I don't want it to stop. I-I don't…horned lass, no…I don't…"
Laughing heartily at him, Keram shook her head. Rylen looked up at her sheepishly, trying and failing to steady himself for the worst. "Foolish Basvaarad. I don't think it's the poison is making you talk nonsense any longer." She pulled him into her lap, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He wasn't quite unopposed to the new arrangement. Not since he was close enough to her that he could smell her spicy sun kissed skin. He felt warm and his head spun for a whole different reason. "Rylen, you sly thing. You surprise me more and more each time we meet."
The harsh kiss she pressed to his lips banished the last vestiges of the poison with a hot surge in his blood.
