Dragon Age 2/God of War: Of Dragons and Gods
…
Chapter 1: A New Beginning, A New World
The biting cold of the Nordic air pierced Kratos' skin, but it was a sensation he had grown accustomed to during his time in this realm. As he trekked alongside his son Atreus, the weight of their recently completed journey to scatter Faye's ashes still lingered in their hearts. Though they had triumphed over countless adversaries and uncovered hidden truths, they yearned for the comfort of their humble dwelling.
Mimir, the wise and chatty severed head, dangled from Kratos' belt, offering occasional commentary and lore as they traversed the frosty terrain. The three of them approached the enormous branches of Yggdrasil, the World Tree that interconnected the realms. The intertwined roots and limbs stretched as far as the eye could see, the very essence of the cosmos woven through its bark.
Atreus, filled with a sense of wonder and hope for what lay ahead, stepped onto the branches first, the tree groaning softly under his weight. As Kratos prepared to follow, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was amiss.
Suddenly, a powerful force erupted behind him, its strength rivaling that of the gods themselves. A vortex of energy had opened up, swirling with untamed ferocity, violently tugging at Kratos and Mimir. Desperate to maintain his footing and protect his son, Kratos dug his fingers into the earth, the dirt crumbling beneath his nails as he grasped for anything to anchor him.
"Father, what's happening!" Atreus cried out, his voice strangled with fear as the force threatened to tear them apart. Despite his best efforts, Kratos could feel his grip loosening. His muscles strained and his heart raced as he fought against the relentless pull.
Mimir, unable to hold on, let out a brief, panicked exclamation before being swallowed by the vortex. The maelstrom of energy roared louder, and Kratos could feel the unfathomable power tearing at his body. With a final, pained glance at his son, he was ripped away, the father and son separated in an instant.
Kratos felt himself hurtling through an abyss of darkness, the void of nothingness threatening to consume him. He braced for impact as he saw a shimmering expanse of water below him, knowing that the fall would not be kind. His body collided with the surface, the shock of the cold and force of the water sending jolts of pain through his very being.
Gasping for breath, Kratos struggled to stay afloat. As he began to lose consciousness, his senses dimly registered the panicked cries of nearby fishermen. "Man overboard!" they shouted, their voices muffled by the waves that threatened to swallow him whole. They strained against their fishing nets, hoisting him onto their vessel with a herculean effort.
As the vessel swayed and creaked, the sailors carried Kratos below deck, placing him alongside the weary refugees seeking safety from the tumultuous world above. The ship groaned and protested as it was buffeted by the unforgiving waves, but it persisted on its journey to the city of Kirkwall.
Here, in this unfamiliar world, Kratos would soon find himself entangled in a web of political strife and powerful forces that threatened not just his own life, but the very fabric of the realms themselves. As he lay unconscious among the refugees, his thoughts were consumed by the desperate need to find his son, to ensure that Atreus was safe. Little did he know that his journey alongside these new allies would forge a tale of unparalleled bravery, sacrifice, and friendship. And so, the Battle of Ages began.
…
As Varric recounted the tale to Cassandra in the dimly lit chamber, her expression shifted from skepticism to outright disbelief. He described Kratos, the war god from another realm filled with gods and monsters, as well as the array of extraordinary races that inhabited it. Varric embellished the tale with the revelation of Kratos' late wife Faye, a humanoid giantess, and the adventures he shared with his son Atreus.
Cassandra raised an eyebrow, the edges of her mouth twitching with incredulity. "A war god from a realm of fantastical creatures, and his wife was a giantess? You truly expect me to believe such a farfetched story?" she asked, her tone dripping with skepticism. She crossed her arms, waiting for Varric to either admit his deception or provide evidence to substantiate his claims.
Varric, ever the storyteller, leaned back in his chair, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Oh, Seeker, I assure you," he said, his voice dripping with sincerity, "this tale is as true as the sky is blue. Just when you think you've seen everything Thedas has to offer, life throws a curveball that's too incredible to ignore."
Cassandra eyed him warily but found herself reluctantly intrigued by the outlandish tale. Though the story seemed to defy all logic and reason, there was something in Varric's voice that made her question whether or not it was truly a fabrication. As she listened to him continue the story, she couldn't help but be drawn in, her curiosity piqued by the potential reality of a world so vastly different from her own.
As Cassandra listened to Varric's tale, she couldn't help but ponder the implications of his words. The notion of another world, one of nine in said realm, one of many realms, and each realm with its own gods and peoples, was staggering. She found herself lost in thought, considering the sheer scope of such a reality.
Each of these worlds, connected yet separate, existing beyond the confines of the Fade—how would that redefine their understanding of creation? What would it mean for their beliefs about the Maker, the Chantry, and the very nature of Thedas itself?
Inwardly, she wrestled with the implications of such a discovery. If these other realms did exist, it would challenge everything she had ever been taught. How would the people of Thedas react to such knowledge? Would it create unity or drive further divisions between the already fragile factions?
But, as she listened to Varric's tale unfold, she couldn't deny the allure of exploring these other realms. The chance to witness gods and creatures she had never even dared to imagine, to explore lands untouched by the conflicts that plagued her own world, it was an opportunity both exhilarating and daunting.
Cassandra knew, however, that she could not allow herself to be swept away by the possibilities. She needed to stay grounded in her duty as a Seeker and protect the people of Thedas. But, as the story of Kratos and Atreus continued to unravel before her, she found it increasingly difficult to dismiss the extraordinary potential of the worlds that lay beyond their own.
Cassandra regarded Varric with a mix of curiosity and inner turmoil, struggling to reconcile his words with her understanding of the world. She couldn't help but ask the question that had been nagging at her since the beginning of the tale. "Why now, Varric?" she inquired, her voice tinged with skepticism and confusion. "What role does this...war god from another realm play in our world? What purpose does he serve here?"
Varric leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and locked his gaze with Cassandra's. "Seeker, I won't pretend to know the will of the gods or the forces that brought Kratos to Thedas. But I can tell you this much: His arrival has set events in motion that have the potential to change the course of history. For better or for worse, Kratos and his allies are at the heart of a conflict that could shake the very foundations of our world."
Cassandra listened intently, her mind racing with the possibilities. She couldn't deny the impact of Kratos' presence, regardless of the reasons behind his sudden appearance in Thedas. She also couldn't help but acknowledge that, if Varric's story held any truth, they would need to understand and work with this formidable warrior to navigate the tumultuous events that lay ahead.
As she continued to grapple with the implications of Kratos' arrival, Cassandra steeled herself, determined to learn more about this enigmatic figure and his role in the unfolding tale. Despite her initial skepticism, she knew that the fate of their world could very well depend on understanding and embracing the mysteries of the realms beyond their own.
Cassandra's gaze fell upon the book that lay on the table before her, its cover embossed with the symbol of the Inquisition. The chronicles of Kratos, Hawke, and their companions were meticulously documented within its pages, detailing their struggles and triumphs in a world that teetered on the brink of chaos. Her thoughts were drawn to the peculiar character of Mimir, the talking head that Varric had mentioned. It sounded more like the work of demons from the Fade than the denizens of another realm.
With a deep breath, she looked back at Varric, her eyes narrowing with determination. "Why did a god help Hawke disrupt the peace, then?" she asked. "Tell me the whole story, starting with how Hawke and his family met Kratos on the ship."
Varric nodded, understanding the gravity of her questions. He leaned back, gathering his thoughts before beginning the tale. "Alright, Seeker, let me start from the beginning. You see, when Kratos was pulled into our world, he was found by the ship carrying Hawke, his mother, sister, and their friend Aveline to Kirkwall. Unconscious and battered from his journey, Kratos was brought below deck, where the refugees nursed him back to health."
As Varric continued his narration, the perspective shifted to Kratos' point of view upon regaining consciousness. His senses slowly returned, the murmur of hushed voices and the creaking of the ship's timbers filling his ears. The scent of saltwater and the dampness of the air permeated his nostrils as he blinked his eyes open, adjusting to the dimly lit space.
Kratos found himself surrounded by wary faces, refugees huddled together, some nursing their wounds while others offered small comforts to one another. He attempted to sit up, his body protesting with aches and pains from his tumultuous journey. It was clear that he was no longer in his own realm, and this realization only served to amplify his disorientation and anxiety.
Confused and overwhelmed, Kratos scanned the room for any sign of his son or Mimir, but they were nowhere to be found. The weight of their absence bore down on him, his heart aching with worry for their safety. He knew he needed to find them and return home, but his current situation left him feeling powerless and lost.
As Kratos surveyed the crowded space, he realized that he could understand the refugees' words. It was as if they spoke the same language, a fact for which he was deeply grateful. Communication would be essential in navigating this strange new world, and being able to understand and converse with the people around him was an undeniable advantage.
His attention was drawn to the familiar weight on his back, and he found some solace in the fact that his Leviathan Axe and Blades of Chaos were still with him. The presence of these formidable weapons provided him with a sense of security and connection to his own world, even in this unfamiliar place.
As Kratos assessed his situation, he knew that he would need to gain the trust of these refugees and learn as much as possible about this new realm. With a renewed sense of purpose, he resolved to set aside his fears and frustrations, focusing on forging a path forward—one that would hopefully lead him back to Atreus and the world he had left behind.
With his weapons at the ready and the ability to understand and speak the language of the people around him, Kratos was well-prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead. As he embarked on this unexpected journey alongside Hawke and his companions, he could not have foreseen the impact their alliance would have on the fate of this world and those beyond it.
…
Kratos couldn't help but notice the intense stares directed at him as he stirred. Among the refugees, two knight-like guards stood near the door of the hull, their eyes fixed warily on him. Their armor and demeanor marked them as distinct from the others, but Kratos had no knowledge of their true identities as Templars.
Deciding that gathering information was his best course of action, Kratos spoke up in his deep, gravelly voice. "Where are we headed? Where are we now?" His blunt questions echoed through the cramped space, momentarily silencing the low murmur of conversation.
The Templars exchanged glances before one of them stepped forward, his tone guarded yet civil. "We are on a ship bound for Kirkwall, a city in the Free Marches. As for our current location, we are still at sea, a few days' journey from our destination."
Kratos nodded, absorbing the information. Though it meant little to him at the moment, he knew that every detail would be crucial as he navigated this unfamiliar land. The mention of the Free Marches and Kirkwall, however, did little to quell his concern for Atreus and Mimir.
For now, though, he had little choice but to bide his time, gain the trust of these people, and gather as much knowledge as he could about this strange world.
Without another word, Kratos turned to retreat further into the hull. As he moved, the Templar's gaze narrowed behind his helmet, focusing on the Blades of Chaos and the intricate Leviathan Axe strapped to Kratos' back. The Templar also noticed the scar that stretched across Kratos' body, from front to back, a testament to countless battles fought and won.
As Kratos attempted to walk away, the Templar suddenly called out, "Hold!" He hesitated, considering the possibility that Kratos might be an apostate, a rogue mage who wielded magic without the Circle's control. However, he couldn't be certain, as there was no staff in sight.
Kratos paused, his expression unreadable as he turned to face the Templar once more. The tension in the air grew palpable, as both the refugees and the other Templar watched the exchange with apprehension. The Templar, attempting to mask his uncertainty, posed his question cautiously. "You bear the markings of a warrior, but...are you an apostate? Can you wield magic?"
Kratos regarded the Templar with a measured gaze, taking a moment to weigh his response. He knew that in this unfamiliar world, the wrong answer could bring trouble upon not only himself but also the people around him. Choosing his words carefully, Kratos spoke in a firm, unwavering tone. "I come from a faraway land, and I am merely trying to find my way home."
The Templar eyed him warily, still uncertain but seemingly appeased for the moment. Kratos remained on guard, knowing that any misstep could escalate tensions and jeopardize his quest to reunite with Atreus and Mimir. As the Templar stepped back, allowing him to continue, Kratos couldn't help but remain vigilant, his senses attuned to any potential danger.
Though he had managed to navigate this delicate encounter, Kratos knew that he had only begun to unravel the complexities of this new world, its people, and their customs.
As Kratos observed Hawke, he recognized in him a kindred spirit, someone who had faced loss and adversity yet continued to persevere. While Kratos did not yet know the details of Hawke's history or the burdens he bore, he could see that the man was no stranger to hardship.
Kratos also noticed the young woman sitting next to Hawke, who he would later learn was Hawke's sister, Bethany. She clutched a staff in her hands, her gaze fixed on Kratos with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. He could sense that she wanted to ask him something. After all, he had appeared out of thin air in the ocean, right in the path of their vessel as they journeyed toward Kirkwall.
Kratos couldn't blame her for her curiosity. He was a striking figure, standing at an imposing eight feet tall with ashen skin, and a red swirl that ran across his chest, over his back, neck, and left eye. He was unlike anyone she had ever encountered, and the mystery of his sudden appearance only added to the intrigue.
After a moment of contemplation, Kratos decided to address Bethany's unspoken curiosity. In a calm voice that surprised both Bethany and her mother Leandra, he spoke up. "It seems you have a question. So speak."
Bethany hesitated, her eyes darting toward her mother and brother before she mustered the courage to voice her query. "Yes, I do have a question. How did you... I mean, where did you come from? We found you in the ocean, appearing out of nowhere. And... you don't look like anyone we've ever seen before."
Leandra and Hawke looked on with interest, sharing their daughter's and sister's curiosity about the enigmatic stranger who had been pulled from the sea. Kratos took a deep breath, considering how best to answer her question without revealing too much about his own world and the events that had led him here.
"I come from a distant realm, far from here," he explained, choosing his words carefully. "I was separated from my son and... an ally during our journey. I am unsure of how I ended up here, but my goal is to find a way back to them."
Bethany's eyes widened in understanding, a hint of sympathy appearing on her face.
Leandra spoke next, her voice soft with empathy. "We understand what it's like to be separated from a son and brother. Our Carver was brutally killed by an ogre while we were fighting darkspawn."
As she spoke, Kratos remembered the ogres of his realm and wondered whether the ogres here were similar. But he decided to set that thought aside for the moment, as another question piqued his curiosity. "Darkspawn?" he asked, his deep voice causing the hull to fall eerily quiet for a few moments. "What are darkspawn?"
The hushed atmosphere in the hull reflected the gravity of the question.
The hushed atmosphere in the hull reflected the gravity of Kratos' question. It was Hawke who broke the silence, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "How can you not have heard of darkspawn?" he asked, astonished by Kratos' lack of knowledge about the creatures that had so profoundly affected their lives.
Seeing the confusion on Kratos' face, Hawke realized that the stranger truly had no knowledge of darkspawn and proceeded to explain. "Darkspawn are twisted creatures that dwell in the depths of the earth. They are born from the taint, a corrupting force that originated from the ancient magisters who dared to enter the Golden City in the Fade. When darkspawn find and corrupt an Old God, they create an Archdemon, which leads them to the surface in a catastrophic event known as a Blight."
As Kratos listened, he couldn't help but draw parallels between the darkspawn and some of the monstrous beings he had faced in his own world. The fight against the darkspawn was not unlike the battles he had fought against gods and monsters in his own realm. He realized that in this new world, he might be able to lend his strength and experience to help those around him, while searching for a way back to his son and home.
Noticing the shock and disbelief on their faces, Kratos realized that his lack of knowledge about this world might hinder his ability to navigate its dangers and find his way home. Deciding to remedy this, he asked the refugees for their help. "Tell me everything. Kingdoms, histories, races... everything. I know none of these things."
The refugees exchanged glances, realizing the extent of Kratos' unfamiliarity with their world. Over the next days, as the ship continued its journey toward Kirkwall, they shared with him the knowledge he sought. They spoke of the nations of Thedas, such as Ferelden, Orlais, and the Tevinter Imperium, and their complex political landscape. They told him about the different races that inhabited their world: humans, elves, dwarves, and the horned giants called the Qunari.
They explained the role of the Chantry and its religious teachings, the existence of mages and their struggle with the Templars, and the ancient history of the dwarves and their once-great underground empire. They spoke of the many wars and conflicts that had shaped their world, and the fragile balance of power that existed between the different factions.
As Kratos absorbed this wealth of information, he began to gain a better understanding of Thedas and its intricacies. He also realized that many of the struggles and conflicts in this world echoed those he had faced in his own realm, and that the skills and experience he had gained in his battles against gods and monsters might yet prove useful in helping his newfound allies navigate the perils of their world.
While the refugees shared their knowledge of Thedas with Kratos, Aveline couldn't help but stare warily at the Blades of Chaos that rested on the stranger's back. There was something about the weapons that seemed to pierce into her soul, and the aura they emanated felt sinister and unsettling.
As a skilled and experienced warrior herself, Aveline knew that weapons like these were no ordinary tools of war. The intricate design and craftsmanship suggested a history steeped in blood and battle, and she wondered what kind of warrior could wield such deadly instruments.
She was not alone in her curiosity. Others in the hull would occasionally cast furtive glances toward Kratos and his weapons, sensing the power they contained and the weight of their history. But despite their reservations, the refugees couldn't deny the air of confidence and capability that surrounded Kratos.
One day, as they gathered around Kratos, sharing stories and knowledge, Hawke asked a question that had been on everyone's mind. "You've been with us for a while now, but we still don't know your name. What should we call you?"
Kratos hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should reveal his true identity to these strangers. But seeing the trust they had placed in him and considering the bonds they had forged, he decided to share his name with them. "Kratos," he said simply, his deep voice resonating through the hull.
The refugees looked at one another, their expressions reflecting a mixture of surprise and curiosity. The name "Kratos" was one they had never heard before, and it only added to the enigma that was this towering, ashen-skinned warrior who had appeared so suddenly in their lives.
As the ship cut through the waves, a guard entered the hull with an important announcement. "We'll be reaching Kirkwall within the hour. Prepare yourselves and gather your belongings."
A buzz of anticipation filled the air as the refugees began to ready themselves for their arrival. The uncertainty of their futures weighed heavily on their minds, but they were also eager to leave the cramped confines of the ship and set foot on solid ground once more.
Kratos, Hawke, Aveline, Bethany, Leandra, and the other refugees exchanged looks of determination and solidarity. The challenges they would face in Kirkwall were unknown, but they were prepared to stand together and support one another as they navigated this new chapter in their lives.
As the ship approached the harbor, the imposing walls of Kirkwall came into view, signaling the beginning of their journey in this strange and unfamiliar land. With their newfound ally Kratos by their side, the group steeled themselves for the trials that awaited them, ready to face whatever Thedas had in store.
…
As the ship cut through the waves, a guard entered the hull with an important announcement. "We'll be reaching Kirkwall within the hour. Prepare yourselves and gather your belongings."
A buzz of anticipation filled the air as the refugees began to ready themselves for their arrival. The uncertainty of their futures weighed heavily on their minds, but they were also eager to leave the cramped confines of the ship and set foot on solid ground once more.
Kratos, Hawke, Aveline, Bethany, Leandra, and the other refugees exchanged looks of determination and solidarity. The challenges they would face in Kirkwall were unknown, but they were prepared to stand together and support one another as they navigated this new chapter in their lives.
As the ship approached the harbor, the imposing walls of Kirkwall came into view, signaling the beginning of their journey in this strange and unfamiliar land. With their newfound ally Kratos by their side, the group steeled themselves for the trials that awaited them, ready to face whatever Thedas had in store.
As Kratos and the others made their way through Kirkwall, they couldn't help but be awed by the sight of the massive metal statues towering over the city, chains extending from their outstretched hands to the cliffs above. There was an air of ancient pain and suffering that seemed to emanate from these structures, and Kratos, as a God of War, could sense it keenly.
He could feel the echoes of enslavement that once took place here, a chilling reminder of the city's dark history. Yet, as he observed the bustling streets and diverse inhabitants of Kirkwall, it was clear that whatever had happened here was long in the past. The city had moved on, and life had continued in the shadow of these colossal monuments to suffering.
Hawke, Aveline, Bethany, Leandra, and the other refugees shared in the astonishment, trying to imagine the stories and histories that had unfolded in this place. As they continued their exploration of Kirkwall, Kratos found himself reflecting on the resilience and adaptability of these people, who had managed to forge new lives and communities in the wake of such darkness.
As the group made their way toward the entrance of the city, they noticed a large crowd had gathered, with anxious faces and hushed whispers. A Templar stood at the front, trying to explain the situation to the restless throng.
"We're at capacity," he said firmly. "We can't allow any more refugees into Kirkwall at this time."
Hawke stepped forward, his calm voice cutting through the murmur of the crowd. "What's the situation? We have families here, and we have family in the city. His name is Gamlen."
The Templar's expression softened somewhat as he considered Hawke's words. "Ah, Gamlen," he said, recognizing the name. "In that case, I'll let you through. But I must handle the rest of the refugees."
Grateful for the Templar's understanding, Hawke and the others continued toward the city entrance, aware of the envious and desperate stares from those left behind. They knew that their situation was precarious, but the prospect of reuniting with family and finding sanctuary within the city bolstered their resolve.
As they entered Kirkwall, Kratos couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. The struggles faced by the refugees outside the city were only a taste of the challenges that awaited them within. But with their shared experiences and the strength of their newfound bonds, Kratos and his companions were prepared to confront whatever obstacles lay ahead in their pursuit of safety and a new life.
