Maker...
Coming to a stop, chest heaving for air, Garrett looked ahead with widening eyes.
A clamour was rising, a screaming and shrieking echoing down empty streets and abandoned roads, screams of terror, but also, distantly, rage.
Yet that was not what had brought Garrett to a halt.
Ahead, he could see the vague outline of a green fog. It was still far away, yet he could sense it growing, lone wisps of it clutching at the roofs of the houses along the street, like some giant monster, clutching at the firm ground, laboriously pulling itself forward. The screams mainly came from within that fog, though muted, dull, as if through water.
Nearer, in serried rows, guardsmen in orange and grey stood, their partial plate armour glowing in a setting sun. Two lines of men and women, nearly shoulder to shoulder, shields and spear-tips facing the fog, impotently threatening it...or perhaps not so impotently, judging by the three ragged shapes lying in dark pools of blood by the feet of the front rank. A gas that drives people mad...mad enough to charge a line of spears unarmed? Maker...
Behind them, two figures stood, both familiar, one more so than the other, her auburn hair just barely visible under an unfastened helmet. The other was a less welcome sight, yet one Garrett knew to expect. Donnic. The man wasn't exactly ugly, but his face was dull, his stature squat...and nothing in the conversation Garrett had had with him when he'd arranged for the man to come to the Reinhart party had suggested anything special...yet for some reason Aveline was in love with him. Maybe I just don't see it because of my earlier...infatuation.
To be honest, Garrett still felt a flutter when looking at her, and a jab of bitterness when looking at Donnic...yet the way it had already gotten so much weaker...it was clear that his mother had had the right of it. I suppose this is best, as Leandra said, she's only a captain, and we are nobles. However right she'd been though, it still left a bitter after-taste, to think himself beguiled, to think himself so foolish...it didn't sit well with him. I thought myself smarter than that.
With a shake of his head, he dismissed the errant thoughts. Now is not the time for this, think of the gas, it's right in...in... Garrett looked about himself..and went pale. Lowtown, close to the Alienage, close to...Maker... For one terrified moment, he nearly began to run, to do what all else were doing, trying to save those they cared about...and then the moment passed, his resolve firming. No, that won't save anyone. I can't stop the gas with my sword, leaving will only make things worse...I must stop it at the source. Hesitantly, he eyed the gas. Which might be problematic.
"Garrett!" Looking away from the green fog, Garrett found Aveline and Donnic approaching, both with faces alight with consternation. "This...thing came out of nowhere, or so my guards tell me." The leader of the two shook her head. "We've had riots break out all over, especially within that area...it's like...it's like they're-"
"Mad." Garrett concluded, offering Donnic a nod before looking to the fog, eyes narrowing. What did the Arishok say? Smell of the fog causes madness? But non-Kossith have the ability to resist it within them? That doesn't make sense, surely the Kossith are the ones who have it in them to resist the gas? What could humans, dwarves or elves do to resist it? Maybe...a long hose to breathe through? Sounds awfully bulky and...no, that can't be it...not in them...
Next to him, he could sense Aveline and Donnic exchange a puzzled look as he kept eyeing the gas, vainly trying to perceive some kind of weakness in the green mist. "Yes...mad...how did you...know that?"
"It's the work of a criminal, one thinking it a good idea to steal what he doesn't understand from the Qunari." Garrett bitterly replied, hearing the others gasp as he stared straight ahead. Maybe a long straw that can be above...no, that ignores his hint...what's within me that I can use!? Is it a religious thing?! A state of mind!? Converts or not, his elven Qunari can't all be dedicated enough for that to work, even he must know that... Garrett kept his expression carefully blank as he spoke though. "As liaison to the Viscount, I ask you to swear not to reveal this information, the fallout from this will be bad enough without the Qunari being mentioned, however innocent their role might have been." He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in as he kept studying the slowly expanding fog. "Swear it now, please."
"Of course, my word is my bond, and I'm a servant of the Viscount." Aveline replied without a hint of hesitation. Good girl. "But Hawke, something must be done, we can't just wait for this thing to dissipate...if it even does!"
"No, we can't." Garrett finally turned his head, looking to Donnic and finding a hesitant look on the guard's face. "I require your oath as well, guardsman."
"I'm not..." The man hesitated, frowning a little. Garrett might have convinced him to come to the Reinhart party...he'd even been disgustingly eager once Garrett had mentioned he was asking to help out his friend Aveline...but Garrett had a feeling his own brusque manner during that time had made the man somewhat guarded against him. I could have asked with more candour, I suppose...was hard enough to do with all that bitterness though. "Begging your pardon, Serah, but I don't actually know if you are a liaison and I don't think they even have the power to ask such a vow from a guardsman, now I understand the importance of-"
"Donnic." Aveline interrupted before Garrett could, a hand on the other guardsman's arm, making the man's disapproving look instantly disappear as he shot the hand of the captain a quick glance before looking anywhere but at it. "Trust me, Hawke knows what he's doing, there's no law against us swearing a vow, especially since I have a feeling Garrett has the good of the city in mind, and that's what matters."
"I...very well." Donnic nodded, looking defeated as he turned his eyes back to Garrett. "That still leaves this mess, however."
Good, my authority with the guard acknowledged, both with the Captain and her second in command. Garrett dismissed the thought swiftly, he'd never doubted the loyalty of Aveline, she was a friend and ally, and by extension and within reason, so were the guard. "Agreed, this gas might well spread, and if so, more people will die and we'll have a real panic on our hands. People are hiding right now, but if it gets worse, we can expect violence on a grand scale."
"Of course, we know that, but how to stop it?" Aveline grimaced. "This...gas...must come from somewhere in the cloud, and we can't go in there." The words made Garrett once more focus on the Arishok's words. It's the smell, the scent, that drives you mad...that must be the heart of the matter. "Could we possibly...contain it?" She gave Garrett a furtive look, Donnic looking confused next to her. "You know...with some special strategy...?"
Magic? Maybe, if we had time to ask Anders or Merrill, but then...the Templars would be over us in no time, and there's no way Meredith would allow circle mages to come out and cast spells in the city. Risk of escape in the chaos, them casting spells outside controlled enviroment...the list of demands of circle mages is gigantic, and she's not flexible. "I can't think of any special strategy that would be viable in this situation." Garrett grimaced, trying to think. We must stop this, if the city...I've worked too hard to get to where I am to have it all fall apart now! Something inside me that can stop the maddening scent, what in the blazes was the Arishok talking of? What inside me could possibly...oh you've got to be joking with me. "I'll stop this though, excuse me." With that, Garrett turned around and marched for the nearest alley, suddenly happy for the poor city-planning of Lowtown.
"Garrett? What are you talking about?" Aveline demanded, a worried edge to her words. "What do you mean, 'I'll stop this'? You can't walk into it, don't you get that?" A pause of confusion. "Why are you walking into that alley? I can't even see you!"
"Just wait a moment!" Grunting, Garrett, pulled free a cloth from one of the pockets lining his leather armour, normally intended for cleaning a bloodied blade, he now had an entirely different use in mind for it. "This better work...Maker, what I have to do to stop disasters..." Muttering in annoyance, Garrett opened up his trousers and reached down with his free hand as the other held out the cloth in front of him. "If it doesn't work...well then the Arishok just made me piss on myself...bet he'd laugh if he was capable of such..."
Nothing happened. Then Aveline called. "Garrett...?" A scratch of boots moving closer.
"Hang on!" Garrett snapped back, jumping slightly where he stood, glaring down. "Come on, you bloody...ah, there we go..." He looked away a moment later. And now we think about something else but the warmth...like the poisonous gas that might drive us insane...if the already insane people don't kill us first. He blinked. Right, warmth on my hand, that's preferable to think about.
Thankfully, it was soon over.
Right, next disgusting part. Garrett reached up, the cloth wet in his hands as he reached up and put it over his nose and mouth before firmly tying it together at the back of his head. And...it's not as disgusting as I thought. He breathed in...and nearly gagged. Or maybe it is... With that thought, he turned and marched out of the alley, turning his head so Aveline and Donnic couldn't see the specifics of the cloth over his face, and marched towards the mist ahead.
Aveline jogged after him. "What are you doing!? A simple cloth over the mouth won't help!"
"I know what I'm doing, just let me try this." Garrett brushed aside a hand gripping at his arm even as he reached the back of the guardsmen still facing the fog. A few glanced back and shuffled to the side, looking unsure as they watched the noble move past them to confront the fog. One of the nearest men grimaced, nose wrinkling up, the woman next to him sniffing in confusion, none said anything though.
And then Garrett was inches from the fog.
It wasn't as solid-looking as it had looked from afar, less of a goo and more like murky water viewed through a glass. Within it, he could still see the dark outline of the road, the walls...an abandoned wheelbarrow...yet visibility was low none the less, all beyond the first ten meters nothing but lime green mist, coiling around itself like a living thing wringing its hands. Fascinating. Breathing it was the dangerous thing, so... Swallowing, Garrett reached out, his hand hovering in front of the fog...and watched in fascination as little tendrils reached out, clutching after it like a living thing. And if I... Garrett pushed the hand in...and found himself shivering as the fog wrapped itself around the hand, the gas was chilly, like how the air would be in a Fereldian autumn. Yet now it was here, in Kirkwall, as if seeping the warmth out of the very air itself. Fascinating.
Behind him, Aveline loudly fidgeted as men and women of the guard inched back, nervous and confused...some half-pointing their weapons at Garrett already. Their commander was less nervous though, her tone disapproving. "Garrett, don't be a moron."
"When have I ever acted foolishly?" Garrett replied, inching closer, leaning his face forward, a nervous sweat appearing on his forehead as he moved his face closer to the fog, seeing the tendrils of it reach out for it as he came closer. Okay, just a sniff, see if I feel any differently, that's all, just a single sniff...and...and it'll work, I'm sure...
"Well there was that one time you thought it smart to try and make a deal with Isabela..." Aveline replied with a little chuckle, one finally betraying her nervousness. "Seriously though, stop this."
"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Garrett replied, trying to distract himself as he leant even closer, the sweat pouring from his forehead and his lips trembling. It'll be fine, I won't go mad, it'll be fine, I figured it out, I'm sure I did...I think I did...maybe... "And as she says...'live a little'." He pushed his face in, took a sniff, and jerked his head back. Eugh... As before, he nearly gagged...and then smiled. No madness...I'm okay! Clearing his throat, he reached backwards and gave Aveline's hand a quick squeeze. "Keep the guards back so no one enters or leaves, I'll be back soon."
"What...? But-"
Garrett gave no chance for Aveline to argue, but plummeted into the gas. If I'd stayed, she'd demand to know the trick herself, then she'd follow with lots of guards...and I don't think we want this if we find Javaris in a state that's...politically dangerous. Wow, it's cold here. Already, Aveline's protests were a distant thing, sounds travelling oddly in the gas, or perhaps just when entering it, since Garrett could hear his own footsteps perfectly well.
Okay, find Javaris, or rather, his gas-production...in a fog...potentially full of crazy people. Garrett drew his sword, then, after a moment's hesitation, drew his dagger into his left hand, his body hunched low as he moved forward, eyes seeking movement. One problem at a time, keep moving, look for where the fog is thickest...I think I see it moving ever so slightly from...somewhere ahead, so I should go that way. Ahead there were a few stone steps. At the bottom, a fat man lay gutted, his intestines spilling out over the ground like wet rope.
Garrett stepped around the corpse, gaze darting left and right, trying to spot the killer, but seeing nothing but dark houses and abandoned pieces of clothing and various items. Probably moved on, if I keep-
A crash, and a window above shattered as two men hurtled through it, clawing at one another until they hit the ground. The one ending up below howled, bones snapping and breaking under the weight of the other and the force of the fall. The one above, a man in a tunic fine enough to mark him as a merchant, roared in the man's face and brought up a piece of firewood he was holding and smashed it into the wounded man's face, shattering the man's teeth. The next blow took out one of the man's eyes, as well as causing a massive crater in his forehead, silencing him forever.
The blow after that broke the man's skull.
The next smashed the brain beneath into mush.
The one after that took out the other eye and reduced everything above the man's nose to a broken mess of blood, gore and bones.
Then, the merchant looked up from the abused corpse, eyes on Garrett. Will they come back to their senses once the gas disappears? They should, so maybe... "Hey-"
With a roar, the madman launched himself at Garrett, the blood-soaked piece of firewood held high.
With a thrust of his sword, Garrett knocked the firewood flying before he twisted his torso and took a step to the right, smashing his dagger into the chest of the still rushing madman with enough force to momentarily lift him off his feet before slamming him into the ground, knocking air and blood alike out of the man's lungs.
A hiss, and the merchant was dead, the dagger having reached both heart and lungs.
Grunting, Garrett pulled his dagger out and looked up, ready to find more opposition...and finding a solitary figure standing in the middle of the street.
"Hello...there?" Uncertain, and suddenly feeling guilty, Garrett wiped his dagger off on the tunic of the killed merchant before moving to one knee, eyeing the girl before him with worry and sympathy in equal measure.
She was no more than eight years old, her little dress as dirty as one would expect from someone living in Darktown...and blankly staring straight ahead, her left hand hanging limply at her side, holding onto the arm of a doll that had seen better days, the other dragging a basket after her. Only slowly did she seem to register Garrett, her dim eyes turning to look at him.
"Erm...are you okay? Where's your mother? How hasn't the fog-"
"Mommy!" With a cry, the girl, still holding her doll in one hand, reached down into the basket and pulled out a head.
Maker! Jumping back, Garrett stared into the dead eyes of an middle-aged woman, the head's eyes still open in shock and disbelief.
"Mommy!" The little girl threw the head aside, reached back into the basket...and drew a gore-covered knife from it.
"Wait, you don't want to..."
"Mommy!" The little girl charged, knife held in front of her like a spear, her little face twisting into a grimace of rage. "Mommy die!"
Garrett leapt to the side, sword swinging, only barely remembering to twist his wrist at the last instance.
With a crunch, the flat of his blade struck the side of the girl's head, sending her head first into the dust. A little whimper escaped her, her arms moving to push herself up...and then she collapsed back onto the ground, out cold. Maker... Garrett stared at the girl, suddenly unsure what to do.
So...if they come back from madness, and remember all that happened...the girl...by Andraste...maybe it's better to... For a brief moment, Garrett glanced down at his sword, then he shook his head. No, that's not for me to judge...and I don't kill when it's not necessary, whatever Carver may otherwise claim. Garrett grimaced and looked away. Right, time to move on, I better use the smaller alleys...
After a final glance at the little girl lying on the street, Garrett turned and began to jog.
8
8
8
"So you survived." Garrett growled the words.
The little warehouse he'd found in Lowtown was nothing special, but the gas within had been thick...so thick it was obviously the origin of it. Even now, having properly closed the barrels containing the source of it, the fog was still lingering in the building, little wisps of it moving around like the clouds in the sky did.
Strewn across the floor, elves lay, most of them half-naked, covered in sweat and nothing but skin and bones, tools they'd used to work with, and then to kill with, still in their hands after they had ripped one another apart. "And used cheap labour...why am I not surprised?" Garrett grimaced at the sight of some of them. "Maker, just scarecrows. I know Merrill said some had it bad but..." A shake of his head, his eyes narrowing. "Guess you'd pick the moral high ground about this though, how you're 'actually giving them a job' or something."
Before him, the goal of his search growled back.
With a sneer, Garrett looked to Javaris. "Bet their pay was just enough to keep them alive though...Fereldians don't take kindly to slavery, Javaris."
The dwarf was pinned under a fallen shelf full of metal scraps and glass, but though his legs were caught, the rest of his body was sitting upright, one hand holding a small knife covered in blood, his face marked by a wound, no doubt caused by the practically gutted elf lying atop the shelf. Though the gas had mostly dissipated, the dwarf was was still glaring at him, animalistic growls escaping him as he futilely swung his knife at the distant human. Though he was already doing less of that, his growls having been shouts not too long ago.
"Guess the gas is having less and less effect, huh?" Garrett casually moved closer, glaring down at the dwarf. "You'll come back to your senses. Then you'll use all those friends you spoke of when you refused to pay me for the Tal-Vashoth job to get away with a slap on the wrists for all of this...madness." The thought of such blatant disregard for lives and law made Garrett growl. "Of course, there'll have to be a trial, and you'd blame it all on the Qunari...and people would believe you. Riots, protests, maybe even something close to a battle? All to cover your mistake up?" Garrett shook his head with a snarl. "That about sums it up?"
Before him, Javaris growled back, though by now he was slowly lowering the dagger, enough sense having returned to realise it was no use waving it about.
"I think not." Garrett snapped back, hand coming up to finally tear the wretched cloth from his face, though breathing clearly did nothing to help his mood. "I think you should be punished as the law says you should be punished. I think the Arishok is right to claim that corruption stopping justice is despicable. I think I don't want to see thousands more die because of you wanting to save your own skin." The sword was surprisingly heavy as he drew it, but Garrett held it steady as he pointed it at Javaris. "I'm not the Viscount, but it would be negligent of me to put this before him and the nobles controlling him." A deep breath. "By the laws of Kirkwall, for the theft of military technologies from a visiting envoy, for the killing of hundreds through negligence, for the use of slave labour in all but name, for endangerment of the entire city and all its citizen...I sentence you to death."
Though his teeth were bared in a snarl, Javaris' eyes opened wide in fear and shock.
Garrett made it quick. A clean thrust with his sword, in and out before the dwarf had time to even raise his knife again.
Then he turned, and walked away, not looking back.
8
8
8
"You...did it?" Before him, Aveline was looking at him with a confused grin. "You actually did it? I still don't get how you could even enter the gas and now...you did it?!"
"You're better off not knowing." Garrett smiled back. "But yes, the gas has been stopped. The culprit was already dead though, caught by his own gas." And now none will know of the Qunari involvement in this, I've bought us some breathing room. Did Donnic give him a glance at that? Garrett couldn't tell, Aveline filling his vision as she clasped his forearm in a firm shake.
"Good work." Garrett couldn't help but smile back, his worries about the Qunari-problem momentarily forgotten. "Now we can-"
"Hawke!" The shout of a stranger's voice made Garrett and Aveline release their grip of one another and turn their heads, looking beyond the line of guardsmen now facing the other way, away from whence the gas had come. Beyond them, a crowd had gathered, a throng of people that were staring and pointing. How did I miss them...? "Hawke!" Again, the voice called out.
Garrett turned fully to face the crowd, raising a hand and opening his mouth to answer. "Yes, what-"
"Hawke!" Another interrupted, the shout distinctly not a question.
"Hawke!" A third voice called out.
"Hawke!"
"Hawke!"
"Hawke!" The voices mixed, the call sweeping through the crowd, fists raised in the air.
Confused, yet oddly pleased, Garrett exchanged a little smile with Aveline before turning his attention back to the crowd...and turning his raised hand into a fist and raising it higher.
The crowd exploded into a cheer, then a chant.
"Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke!"
Smiling back, struggling not to outright grin, Garrett felt his pulse quicken.
Well this might well have turned to my advantage all of a sudden...
8
8
8
Thanks to Abydos Jackson for putting the ball in my court like a boss...seriously, how am I supposed to keep up!? :D