After five rounds of fighting the ballroom was looking the worse for wear. Scorch marks covered the walls and floor, one pillar was reduced to a crumbled mess and the rest were covered in dings and scratches from various weaponry digging into them. In one corner there was a puddle of melting ice with a broken vine in the middle of it and a suspiciously slick spot over by the door.

There were four people on the floor now; the redheaded bard in Chantry robes, the beardless dwarf with the massive crossbow, a dark, scowling man in black leathers and bearing the arms of Vigil's Keep, and his opposite; a man in blinding white armor and the face of Andraste for a belt buckle. They each stood in a corner; just slightly in front of the balcony line, but otherwise as far away from each other as possible. The three humans carried bows; they had nocked arrows, but held them downward, undrawn. The dwarf was busy fitting bolts on his crossbow; he was just now putting in a fourth and there looked to be room for one more.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've made it to the last round of the semi-finals."

"Hooray!"

"You said it, Hawke. We're on Round Six: How to Make a Human Pincushion. This round we have Sebastian, Chantry brother and exiled prince of Starkhaven, Leliana, Chantry sister and Orlesian bard, Varric, supposedly a merchant but really a teller of bullshit stories, and Nathaniel Howe, Grey Warden and son of a rat bastard." Mahariel gave a flirty wave when the dark man scowled at her. "Love you Nate!"

"Love? Really?"

"No, of course not. Velanna would fry me."

"I see. Well, are we ready to start?"

"Oh I definitely think so."

"Shale on your mark!" Shale raised her arm and archers' weapons went up with it. Shale's arm came down and three arrows and five crossbow bolts went flying through the air. Three arrows and five bolts landed with a thud in and around Sebastian, pinning him to the wall. There was an arrow in each leg, a bolt in each arm, two bolts in his torso and one bolt twisted in the string of his now-broken bow. The third arrow was embedded in the face of Andraste – right above his crotch.

"Wait, that doesn't make any sense. Bianca can shoot five bolts at once, and I know Nathaniel and Leliana got off an arrow apiece, Sebastian wouldn't shoot himself, so where did the third arrow come from?"

"I have absolutely no idea." Hawke said cheerily as she casually lowered her bow and hid it behind her back. If Mahariel had bothered to look, she would have noticed that the fletching of the arrow at his crotch exactly matched the fletchings in Hawke's quiver. The elf however, was busy scanning the rest of the guests. The Starkhaven prince had gone white as a sheet and his eyes rolled back in his head. The only thing keeping him upright were the arrows trapping him. Wynne made her way over to the prince and examined him with a small frown on his face. She poked at the arrow at his belt.

"He'll be fine. Nothing vital, he's just nicked a bit." Shale came over and peeled Sebastian off the wall. With a sigh, the elder mage followed them out of the room. The three remaining archers slowly circled the ballroom, trying to keep as much distance between themselves and the other two. They side-stepped along the perimeter with bows half-drawn, not quite ready to shoot but prepared if they had to go on the defensive.

"Hey, Mahariel, did you notice both of our storytellers are in this round?"

"No. No I didn't." The elf said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I wonder who's taking notes for them?" Both hosts scanned the room. On the Kirkwall side of things, the little brunette elf was crouched over, writing in a large and heavily embossed leather journal. On the Fereldan side, it was the dark-haired older warrior taking careful notes in a dingy but well made book.

"Is that who I think that is?" Hawke said, aghast.

"Yep."

"Loghain is taking notes for Leliana?"

"Uh-huh."

"The general who took Fereldan back for King Maric is actually doing a favor for an Orlesian spy?"

"Looks like it."

"How'd she manage that?"

"She's a bard. That's what she does. She tells stories, talks people into doing what she wants and if that doesn't work she sends an arrow through them."

"Oh, so exactly like Varric."

"Only much prettier."

Both Leliana and the Howe boy had let off a couple more shots by now, most of which ended up either on the floor or stuck in a pillar. Shale had one sticking out of her arm. It wasn't that their aim was bad, more that their quarry moved faster than anticipated. Varric was being careful with his bolts; after the first volley he hadn't had time to load one bolt, let alone the five that Bianca was capable of, before a shot from one of the humans got him moving again.

Nathaniel let off another arrow, this one directed at Leliana. She ducked and rolled, and the arrow twanged as it hit the floor. Undaunted, the Vigil's Keep archer drew another arrow and shot it towards Varric, who neatly avoided it. Barely a moment after he released the second arrow, Nathaniel was already drawing another. The man was relentless; he shot arrow after arrow, first at Leliana, than at Varric, failing to hit either. With each dodge, the woman and the dwarf drew closer and closer together. Nathaniel pulled two more arrows from his sheath and aimed them at the two who were now only about a foot apart. The shafts sang across the ballroom and Leliana and Varric scrambled out of the way, right into each other.

They stood back to back and their eyes darted around, trying to keep tabs on Nathaniel and each other. Turning was a dangerous proposition; it gave them the ability to shoot at point blank, but it gave their opponent the same opportunity and opened them both up to an easy attack from Nathaniel, who was readying another two arrows on his bow. Leliana slowly drew on delicately fletched arrow out of her quiver. One thick dwarven finger curled closely around the crossbow's trigger. The tension was as tight as Nathaniel's bow.

There was a twang and a whoosh as the arrows flew. Varric ducked in the same instant, crouching protectively over Bianca. Leliana followed him down, doing a back flip over the dwarf and coming up to face him, bow drawn and ready. One arrow barely grazed by her foot as she went over but the other, intended for Varric's head, hit her leather armor square on the hip. She grimaced slightly, but seemed to be unimpeded. She loosed the arrow, less than three feet away from the dwarf. His arms flew up to protect himself and Bianca took the full impact. Varric examined the crossbow and pulled the arrow out, looking all the while as if he had been shot in the chest.

"Why does Varric look like somebody killed his puppy?"

"Mahariel, if there's one thing I've learned, its that the fastest way to end up dead is to do anything to Bianca."

"Sooo..."

"Your friend is screwed."

The redhead apparently realized she was in danger and went sprinting across the room to the stairs. As she ran, she pulled the arrow from her hip, ignoring the injury. She flew past Nathaniel, swiping at him with the bloodied arrow as she went by. A thin red line appeared on his cheek. He turned and followed her up the stairs. Meanwhile, Varric, his face changing from to pure steel, had pulled something very strange out of his pack and was fitting it to Bianca. It was an odd-shaped bundle of what looked like tightly packed bolts. The entire Kirkwall contingent moved and tried to hide under what cover they could find. Anders, Bethany and Merrill threw up various kinds of shields and crowded close to the non-mages.

"Mahariel!" Hawke whispered urgently from behind her chair.

"What?"

"Duck."

Varric hefted Bianca up to his shoulder and pointed her straight up in the air. He pulled the trigger and the kickback from the bow sent him tumbling backwards. The bundle of bolts flew upwards with massive velocity and split apart as it hit it's apex. Single bolts did a one-eighty and headed back downwards, picking up speed as they fell. Now the rest of the guests figured out what was going on and joined the Kirkwall party in trying to find someplace to hide from the incoming arrows. Oghren, for one, decided to use his axe as a protective umbrella.

Bolts rained down in ballroom. There was a surprising number of them, covering every square inch of the room multiple times over. The storm was so thick it became impossible to see what was going on. Arrows bounced and rebounded off of walls, floors, and Shale, who had returned to her post on the stairs by this point. As the bolts stopped falling, Mahariel and Hawke cautiously peeked over the railing to the floor below. The floor was a carpet of broken sticks and bolts embedded in the floor. All around the balcony, the guests were slowly picking themselves up and brushing off shrapnel.

"That was most excessive." said an annoyed Morrigan as she swept bolts off of her stool.

"Says the witch who turned the room into an ice cave." grumbled Loghain as he searched around for Leliana's dropped notebook.

"What was that?"

"I said nothing."

"I believe there is something sticking out of your back." She waved her hand peevishly at the bolt embedded in plate armor. The Teyrn reached behind and pulled out the shaft. He examined it, shrugged, and tossed it over the balcony.

As for the combatants, Varric stood in a small clear circle on the floor, untouched by any of the debris. He casually slotted another bolt and scanned the room for the other two. There was an Orlesian-styled bow and arrow peeking out from behind Shale, but other than one delicate female hand on the bow itself, the person was completely hidden. Nathaniel Howe laid sprawled out on the stairs, arrow dotting his left side. Blood seeped slowly from the wounds. Velanna raced down the stairs to him. Bethany joined her from the other side, picking her way slowly through the bolts. The downed archer stirred and groaned. From behind the golem, Leliana stepped forward, bow lowered, and watched as he used the stairs to raise himself up, arrows still sticking out of his side. He waved away the two mages and took a few steps down the stairs. When he stumbled, it was the elf-woman who picked him back up. Varric lowered his crossbow and allowed the two Wardens and Bethany exit the ballroom.

"Nice showing from Howe! I never thought I'd say that..."

"I certainly never pictured myself recruiting the son of someone I killed. Life is funny that way."

"You certainly know how to pick'em, elf."

"Same to you, shemlan."

Leliana jumped onto a post and ran up the railing, shooting at Varric as she moved. Varric loosed a bolt or two in her direction but Leliana was going to fast for him to get a clear shot at her. Leliana wasn't having any better luck, out of ten shots, only one hit the dwarf, grazing the top of his shoulder. Finally, the bard made her way around to where Mahariel and Hawke were sitting. She leapt up to the backs of their chairs, giving herself the highest vantage point in the ballroom.

"Leliana! What in the name of the Creators are you doing?" Mahariel turned and looked up at her, startled. Leliana only smiled and put a finger to her lips.

"We're doomed." Hawke sighed as she sunk down in her chair.

Leliana held her bow at her side, and opened her mouth. Mahariel stuck her fingers in her ears. An effortless, pure tone wafted across the ballroom and washed over the assembled companions. Many took on a vacant, dreamy look as the bard sang. Morrigan just looked annoyed.

"Oooh... pretty..." said Hawke distractedly.

"That's why they call her Sister Nightingale." Mahariel replied.

"Really? That's not what Isabela led me to believe..." Hawke was now looking adoringly at the Orlesian, completely lost in her song.

"Right, 'cause the pirate always tells the truth."

"She told me a story about you too."

"Well... I... she... we... Oh forget it."

A low bass hum came in underneath Leliana's melody. On the ballroom floor Varric was lightly petting the crossbow and crooning a wordless tune. The two songs intertwined in an interesting counterpuntal duet, and the audience was entirely mesmerized. Slowly, very slowly, and without stopping his hum, the dwarf lifted up his crossbow and aimed it directly at the redhead in the balcony. It was only as he pulled the trigger that Leliana realized Varric had resisted her. Her eyes widened and her mouth shut. The spell had been broken, and the captivated audience were blinking and shaking their heads, trying to clear the fog. The bard tried to jump down from her perch, but it was too late. The bolt hit her square in the stomach, and she dropped like a bird into the hosts' laps.

Mahariel reacted first, quickly grabbing the bolt as far down the shaft as she could and yanking it out. Leliana screamed and thrashed, but Hawke and Mahariel held on tightly. From across the room, Anders waved his staff and cast a healing spell in her direction. It was Sten who came around and lifted the girl into his arms, and carried her down the stairs. She moaned a little and curled against his chest. Varric stood in silent vigil below. Anders met the qunari at the bottom of the stairs and checked her pulse. He nodded up at Hawke and Mahariel. A sigh of relief went through the crowd and then a cheer as they exited the ballroom. Whether they were cheering for the bard's safety or the dwarf's win it was hard to say. The Kirkwall contingent went down and picked up Varric and held him aloft, being very careful not to touch Bianca. The rest of the guests joined the mob below.

"Wow, I didn't think they'd be so excited that Varric won."

"They're not entirely, Mahariel. Some of them just want their money." Indeed, gold seemed to be passing back and forth through the hands of the champion archer.

"Of course they do."

"Well, it looks like we have our six finalists."

"We do indeed Hawke. As well as another mess to clean it up."

"It's just sticks."

"You're right. We can just play fetch with Barkspawn and Ser Fluffy."

"They might enjoy that."

"So, to recap, our finalists for the last round are Varric, Sten, Morrigan, Sigrun, Aveline, and Wynne!"

"Should be an interesting match-up. I wonder who will take it all?"

"I don't know, Hawke. But let's take a short break. I think we need a drink."

"As long as it's not Oghren's brew."

"Nope, my own special reserve."

"I don't know if that's better or worse."