Garrett Hawke was in a good mood, despite the fact that he was heading to the wounded coast in hopes of finding the Viscount's son, and that he was currently walking with a rather quiet & broody elf.

They were on their way to the Hanged Man in hopes of stringing Varric and Isabela along, then Hawke was considering heading to Darktown to fetch Anders, but he knew that Anders needed to see to his patients and that Fenris would wallow in brood-land if Anders were to come along. Hawke also suspected that Fenris was nursing a hangover, but he thought that most days and was unsure if it really was a hangover or if Fenris really was that stiff. He preferred to pretend it to be the former.

The two men hadn't said much during the trek from Hightown, but that wasn't unusual. Fenris was an exceptional mercenary and even though he had an antagonistic attitude towards a lot of things he was a comfort to have around when one was going to the wounded coast. Maker knows what kind of creatures they would run into there. And if the suspicions of Seneschal Bran were correct they would be fighting Qunari; Hawke could use all the manpower he could get.

It was still early, the sun had just risen about an hour beforehand, Hawke wasn't very convinced that Varric or Isabela would even be awake at this time of day, but he was going to wake them up anyway. He had only got Fenris out of the mansion with promises of greasy breakfast from the Hanged Man.

They rounded a corner towards the bar and came to a stop. There were bodies everywhere. The flagstones were dyed red with blood. None of the bodies appeared to be alive, although that wasn't very surprising. Most of them had large jagged holes in thier chests, as though someone had shoved their arm right through them.

"Well this is certainly unexpected." Hawke mumbled before stepping forword into the massacre towards the two daggers he saw sticking out of a man's chest. Fenris grunted as he followed, his brows knitted in confusion.

"I wonder what caused that, it certainly wasn't these daggers," Hawke said, his good mood receding as he tried to figure out what happened here. He eyed the daggers suspiciously, "although these are some damned good quality." he shrugged as he handed one to Fenris.

"These were made in Tevinter," Fenris stated as he noticed the shield etched into the blade near the hilt. The sun shape under the checkered pattern did nothing to ease his mind about this whole mess. Flipping the blade over he noted that the other side of the blade had an engraving of a hooded ferryman, "made for the Archon, it would seem."

Hawke raised an eyebrow at fenris, "I get the Tevinter part, how do you know these where made for the Archon, and what exactly is an Archon? They dont exactly talk about the Imperium much in Ferelden."

Fenris sighed as he handed the dagger back, not particularly wanting to hold something made for a magister. He wiped his hand on his leggings before explainging "The Archon is comparable to the King of Ferelden. He rules over Tevinter, the seal of the Archon is a hooded ferryman. They say that prior to becoming the first Archon, Darinius had a dream that he crossed a river in a small boat piloted by a man whose face he never saw. As he got off the ferry he looked back and saw that the ferryman was himself."

"I see."

"Maybe, if you wish to know what took place here, Varric would be the one to talk to." Fenris suggested.

"Too true, the smell of blood is kind of getting to me anyway," Hawke turned and headed towards the Hanged Man's door. He was holding it open for Fenris when he realized that Fenris was not behind him anymore. Instead he was standing a few feet away looking down the alley where the Hanged Man's kitchen opened.

Fenris didn't even glance up at Hawke when he said "I think I found the owner of those daggers."

...

Hawke was amazed the man he was carrying was still breathing, the wound in his back was huge and maker knows how long he had been leaning against that crate, bleeding out.

"I thought elves were supposed to be light." Isabela whined.

After determining that the corpse-like figure in the alleyway was in fact alive Hawke left Fenris with him while he got the pirate, he was determined to get this man to Anders' clinic before he died. Varric offered to deal with the mess outside and stayed behind, he preferred to clear the bodies away before any guards or templars found them and decided to hang around the Hanged Man with questions on thier lips.

"I'm not completetly sure he is an elf" Fenris said.

"Why am I helping Hawke carry this guy, Fenris? I'm sure your much stronger than I am, what with lugging around that big sword. AND, I just woke up, " Isabella sighed, "what a horrible thing to wake up to. Besides, he has the elf ears."

"I dont think he would appreciate Fenris' armor cutting his arm off. And he also has a very obviously NOT elven face. Can't say I've ever met a half elf/half human that looked quite like this one." Hawke said.

"Fenris could just take his armor off. And elf or not, this guy is cute...despite the whole dying thing." Isabella frowned.

"Your kind of a perv, Isabella," Hawke laughed "and im fairly sure that Fenris sleeps in that armor, I dont think he would take it off for a dying man, no matter how cute he is."

They finally arrived at Anders' clinic, Fenris held the door open as Isabella and Hawke drug the man in.

Anders appeared from the back of the clinic, tieing his hair back as Hawke and Isabella placed the man on a table, face down, Isabella sighed and rolled her shoulders. "Maker, what happened to him?" Anders demanded. He grabbed a pair of scissors to cut through the leather

Hawke explained as Isabella laid down on a cot and began to doze, Fenris watched from his position near the door, uncomfortable with the entire situation. The man didn't appear to be a magister, having not found a staff, and he wasn't built as a man who spent most of his time sitting or casting spells would be. But that did not mean he was not one, so Fenris was on his guard. It seemed a safe assumption that this was the owner of the daggers but it was not a guarantee. And what of the men with the holes in thier chests in lowtown? Certainly that couldn't be anything other other than magic. Maybe this was another person Denarius sent after him, but no...as powerful as Denarius was he was not at the level to get the Archon's help in...retreiving Fenris. He pinched the bridge of his nose, I do not understand, and I do not like it.

As Anders took away the leather armor the man wore Fenris stepped forword, hoping that there would be pockets or something on the inside of the armor that would hint at his reason for being in Kirkwall. He took it from Anders and inspected it, inside and out, finding nothing except blood and a few repaired holes where it had obviously been pierced.

"Find anything?" Hawke asked as he helped Anders take the man's tunic off of him.

"No."

The leather armor fell from his hands with a dull thud.

Anders and Hawke looked at him questioningly but he did not notice. He was staring at the tattoo on the dying man's shoulder. It was a mark of ownership that many magisters put on slaves that they never intended to sell, if said slave got lost, or escaped, the mark would indicate who to return him to.

Hawke followed Fenris's gaze to the man's shoulder, where a tattoo of a hooded ferryman was seen through the blood. His brow furrowed before he realized it was the same image that he found on one of the daggers.

"It would appear that those daggers were his, wouldn't it." Hawke muttered.

"No," Fenris mumbled "it is the Archon's crest...this man is the Archons slave. Mauris!"[1]

"Shit," Anders muttered as he poured water on the wound, trying to clean some of the dried blood off so he could see it. "We would know if the Archon was here wouldn't we? Why would his slave be hanging out in lowtown? "

...

1]Mauris = shit