Well guys I finally got a new usb drive, since the last one kept cutting sections out every time I tried to upload something, and sometimes added repeats into the story, but now it's fixed so you guys don't have to worry about that any more…so without further ado let's get to it.
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Dragon Age/ God of War: Of Dragons and God's
Chapter 9: Act of Mercy, Enemies Among Us, and Shadow of Athena and Modi….
…
In the modest, dim light of their slum dwelling, the new day greeted Hawk, Bethany, and Kratos. They were already assembled around the table, their pre-dawn routines becoming synchronized due to Kratos' influence. A strange sense of unity, forged by shared purpose and strengthened through shared experience, brought a different hue to the morning.
Hawk was holding a mysterious letter, his brow furrowing deeper as he read through the carefully crafted lines. Arriving anonymously on the writing desk, it bore no signature but gave a cryptic hint of the sender's identity: 'we've met before'. A string of specific details gave it away - the sender was Sir Thrask. The gravity of the situation hung in the air as heavily as the musty smell of their humble abode.
"What's that about?" Bethany queried, curiosity drawing her attention to her brother's troubled expression.
"An urgent call from Sir Thrask," Hawk responded, "He wants us to rendezvous at the Wounded Coast, immediately. He claims lives are hanging in the balance."
Upon hearing this, Kratos, ever the tacit observer, let his burning gaze rest on Hawk. "Whenever such messages are sent in haste and secrecy, the matter is usually grave," he intoned, his voice as deep as a resonating drum.
Bethany and Kratos watched as Hawk pointed out something else on the page, a deeper layer to Thrask's message. He highlighted the first letters of each line which was followed by letters in the sentences that were capitalized, spelling out 'HELP...APOSTATES….TRAIL…GUIDE-U' "Hawk read the cryptic message, noting sir Thrask's hesitation to reveal his identity openly...it points to mages, potentially in danger. We need to move, now!"
A tension entered the room, as the weight of the unspoken lives at stake pressed upon them. With a shared nod, they resolved to set out immediately. As they prepared to navigate the dire circumstances laid before them, none could foresee just how much their mettle would be tested that day.
Navigating through the heart of Kirkwall, Hawk, Kratos, Bethany, and Aveline swiftly picked up Anders from Darktown, with a sense of urgency driving their every move. Their destination - the Wounded Coast, a rugged expanse of land riddled with treacherous cliffs and treacherous inhabitants. The journey was not without its difficulties. Dragonlings, the juvenile form of a high dragon, interrupted their path, inciting a tense battle that tested their combat skills.
Along the trail, a series of rock carvings served as their guide, indicating the direction they should take. Hawk couldn't help but notice the painstaking care and precision with which the signs were crafted, and this small detail only amplified his concerns about the situation.
Eventually, their journey led them to a secluded spot, concealed from prying eyes. Sir Thrask was already present there, standing amidst a handful of other Templars, his face etched with a mixture of relief and anxiety upon their arrival. His approach was cautious, his eyes constantly flicking over his shoulder as though ensuring his comrades were not privy to their conversation.
The atmosphere was thick with tension, and Hawk knew that whatever news Sir Thrask bore, it was serious. The cryptic letter, the hidden trail, and now this discreet rendezvous – all signs were pointing towards a crisis unfolding behind the veil of secrecy.
In a hushed tone that underscored the urgency and gravity of the situation, Sir Thrask began to explain his predicament.
"There are apostates, escaped mages from the Circle at Starkhaven, hiding in a cavern the Templars are currently guarding," he confided, his eyes glinting with anxiety. "The Circle was razed, and they managed to escape during a transfer...and now they've found refuge here."
His gaze shifted to Hawk; the request implicit in his words. "I was hoping that you could talk to them...try to bring them out peacefully. They're likely to be on edge, and afraid. If they see Templars, they might lash out...and we risk escalation."
He paused, looking over his shoulder once more before continuing. "You should hurry though...another Templar, Sir Karras, is on his way. He's more...aggressive. The man doesn't shy away from violence, and if he reaches them before you do...I fear he might resolve this situation with force, potentially lethal."
His words hung heavy in the air, painting a dire picture. It was clear that lives were at stake, and time was of the essence. It was now up to Hawk, Kratos, and the others to try and defuse this escalating crisis before it was too late.
Without a moment's hesitation, Hawk gave a decisive nod. "We'll do it. We'll talk to them."
A collective sigh of relief seemed to ripple through the small gathering. Sir Thrask visibly relaxed, his grateful gaze meeting Hawk's determined one. Turning to his Templars, he issued his command in a firm voice, authority ringing clear.
"Stand down. Let them pass," he ordered, gesturing towards Hawk and his companions.
With that, the path to the cavern was open. Hawk, Kratos, and the others were free to try and bring a peaceful resolution to a situation on the precipice of violent confrontation.
The moment they stepped into the caverns, the atmosphere instantly changed. It was darker, colder, and had an unsettling quality that set everyone on edge.
As they ventured further, they came upon a lone mage standing amidst the dim gloom. The second his gaze landed on them, he moved rapidly, pulling a sharp object across his palm. Blood welled up instantly, and with an ominous incantation, he let it drip onto the ground.
The act sent a wave of dread through the group - the man was using blood magic. As the droplets hit the cold stone floor, a dark energy pulsed outwards and the long-still bodies of the dead began to shudder and rise in response. Kratos, Hawk, Bethany, Aveline, and Anders all fell into battle stances, preparing to face the newly awakened threat.
In the dim, ominous cavern, the team sprang into action. Hawk, ever the quick-thinker, hurled a concussion grenade and an Antivan fire grenade into the horde of risen dead. The explosion echoed through the hollows, filling the space with blinding light and a roar of flames that incinerated several of the undead.
Meanwhile, Kratos was a whirlwind of deadly motion, his muscular arms swinging his electrically charged axe with lethal precision. The axe flew out of his hand, its path a destructive arc that cut through two of the reanimated corpses. Their bodies froze from the electricity coursing through them, only to shatter a moment later.
Aveline was no less effective. Her blade moved in swift, sharp slashes, carving through the undead with a grim efficiency. Each swing of her sword was a testament to her experience and skill, dispatching her foes with ruthless proficiency.
And then there were Bethany and Anders, the mages of the group, their hands aglow with potent energy. Simultaneously, they cast out bolts of lightning that crackled through the air, striking the blood mage and his undead minions. The electrified energy danced from one target to another in a lethal chain reaction, zapping them with immense power.
As the fallen mage's lifeless body lay sprawled on the ground and the reanimated corpses returned to their lifeless state, a heavy silence fell over the cavern. Hawk stood there, his heart filled with regret and sorrow, looking down at the scene with a far-off gaze.
"Why...?" He muttered, his voice echoing in the cavern. "Why did he do that?" His voice held a touch of despair, of regret. He wished there had been another way, a chance to save the misguided mage, to prevent the tragic waste of life. The bitter taste of a victory marred by unnecessary death lingered in the air, a poignant reminder of the tragic complexities of their world.
Hawk's words cut through the heavy silence like a knife, serving as a stark reminder of the grave situation they were facing. Their faces hardened with grim resolve, each of them sharing a silent agreement. They knew there was more at stake here than their own lives, and they had to tread carefully.
"Let's move ahead," Hawk said, his voice steady but holding an undertone of caution. "But remember, we proceed with caution. We must try to avoid any more unnecessary bloodshed."
They moved forward, their steps measured and careful, their senses heightened. They knew that they were not just walking into a possible confrontation, but a situation that held life or death consequences for the very people they were trying to save. The weight of this responsibility was heavy on their shoulders, but they also knew they were possibly the only hope these mages had for a peaceful resolution.
As they descended down the ramp, Hawk's sharp eyes spotted three more bodies laying in an unnatural state of repose. Without missing a beat, Hawk moved towards them, his movements swift and purposeful. One by one, he drove his blade into each of them. The bodies twitched and spasmed, a clear sign that they were more than just corpses.
They all watched as the bodies jerked in response to Hawk's quick actions, an eerie silence falling upon the group. Each body twitched, then became still once more, this time permanently.
"Good eye, Hawk," Kratos said, his deep voice resonating through the silent cavern. "Your quick thinking saved us from another ambush."
There was a newfound sense of wariness as they moved deeper into the cavern, each one of them now extra vigilant for any signs of the dormant dead or additional threats. The uneasy silence was a constant reminder of the danger that still lurked in the shadows, ready to spring out at any moment.
As they advanced into another chamber of the cavern, a man came into sight, running towards them. His worn and tattered robes billowed around him, marking him clearly as a mage. He skidded to a halt before them, gasping for breath.
"Thank the Maker... I nearly thought I missed my chance to surrender..." He inhaled deeply, trying to regain his composure. "My name's Alain."
Once he got his breath back, he continued hurriedly. "Decimus, our leader...he's in the next chamber. He's using blood magic...it's gone too far." His voice trembled with the weight of his confession.
"I beg you, let me go. I'll return to the Circle, I don't want any part of this..." He pleaded, desperation etched onto his face.
Hawk and the others shared a glance. It was clear Alain was terrified and overwhelmed, his decision to surrender was his own act of defiance against the path of blood magic. A subtle nod from Hawk gave Alain the permission he needed, and he quickly retreated, heading for the cave's entrance with newfound hope in his steps.
As the group approached the main cavern, a tangible shift in the air grew stronger. It was like a whisper of a chill breeze, carrying an unseen weight that prickled their skin and made the air taste metallic. Kratos, Bethany, Mimir, and Anders could all feel it stronger, the distinct sensation of magic in the air. Hawk and Aveline felt it too, though to a lesser extent, the hairs on the back of their necks standing on end.
The cavern opened up before them, revealing a woman pleading with a man who they assumed to be Decimus, the group's leader. The energy around Decimus was thick and heavy, an aura that practically screamed of blood magic. The woman's pleas echoed around them, filled with desperation, "Decimus, you have to stop this!" she cried.
Every instinct they had was telling them that they needed to intervene, but they knew they had to tread carefully. The situation was delicate, and one wrong move could set off a disaster.
As the group approached the main cavern, a tangible shift in the air grew stronger. It was like a whisper of a chill breeze, carrying an unseen weight that prickled their skin and made the air taste metallic. Kratos, Bethany, Mimir, and Anders could all feel it stronger, the distinct sensation of magic in the air. Hawk and Aveline felt it too, though to a lesser extent, the hairs on the back of their necks standing on end.
The cavern opened up before them, revealing a woman pleading with a man who they assumed to be Decimus, the group's leader. The energy around Decimus was thick and heavy, an aura that practically screamed of blood magic. The woman's pleas echoed around them, filled with desperation, "Decimus, you have to stop this!" she cried.
Every instinct they had was telling them that they needed to intervene, but they knew they had to tread carefully. The situation was delicate, and one wrong move could set off a disaster.
After a shared nod of understanding, the group stepped out into the light of the cavern. Their movements were cautious, calculated to display no direct threat while still maintaining readiness. Their appearance in the cavern brought an immediate hush to the ongoing argument, and every pair of eyes turned towards them.
Decimus was the first to react, his gaze narrowing on the group, his eyes flickering between each one of them, assessing, evaluating. There was an intense, almost desperate focus in his stare as if he were searching for something in their appearance or demeanor that might give away their intentions. Hawk noticed this, along with the way the mages that were surrounding him seemed to shrink away slightly.
The woman named Grace continued her pleas, though her voice was shaking. "Decimus, please!" she cried, desperation tingeing her voice. She looked to Hawk and his companions, her eyes silently pleading for help.
Hawk felt a twinge of sympathy, but also a firm resolve. They were there to avoid any further bloodshed if possible. He turned his attention back to Decimus, the weight of his next words weighing heavy on his tongue.
Finally, Hawk broke the silence. His tone was steady, his words sincere. "I'll be honest with you, because I know you'll know if I lie," he began, meeting each mage's gaze with his own. "The Templars are outside. Their leader, Sir Thrask, sent us in here to find a peaceful resolution that doesn't involve more bloodshed. We mean you no harm."
Hawk's eyes, filled with resolve, swept over the mages as he continued. "We need to act quickly. A more violent Templar named Sir Karras is on his way. He's known for his brutality. He won't be as lenient as we are trying to be. Please, listen to what I'm saying. Your lives depend on it. I don't want to take any more lives today, and I don't believe any of you do, either."
A tense moment followed Hawk's words, hanging in the air like a storm cloud. The mages shared uncertain glances, but one by one, they started to move towards Hawk. All except Decimus, who remained where he stood, a hard, skeptical look on his face.
As Grace stepped towards Hawk, Decimus's countenance shifted dramatically. The word 'traitor' escaped his lips in a venomous hiss, his eyes igniting with the red glow of blood magic. It was clear that he was not in control of his actions, driven by a dangerous and reckless power. The other mages recoiled from him, their faces awash with fear.
Hawk, Kratos, and the rest of their party reacted swiftly, weapons at the ready as they moved protectively in front of the terrified mages. Undead figures started to crawl from the shadows around them, raised by Decimus's blood magic.
The fight was on. Their mission was clear: to put an end to Decimus's violent tirade and protect the innocent mages. There was no room for negotiation now. Decimus had made his choice, and they would make theirs.
As the skirmish erupted, Hawk was the first to react. He hurled a concussion grenade towards Decimus, but the rogue mage deftly conjured a magical barrier to shield himself from the blast. The explosion echoed through the cave, the force causing smaller rocks to fall from the ceiling.
On the left, Aveline and Anders stood back-to-back, their attacks swift and precise. Aveline's sword moved in deadly arcs, slicing through undead with unwavering force. Each swing met its mark, severing limbs and decapitating creatures with ruthless efficiency. Beside her, Anders called upon his magic, hands sparking with electrical energy. His fingers danced in the air, sending bolts of lightning careening into the oncoming hordes. The air filled with the acrid smell of burnt flesh.
On the other side, Bethany weaved her own brand of destruction. Waves of magic radiated from her, like ripples in a pond. Each pulse sent undead flying, their bones shattering against the cavern walls.
Kratos, meanwhile, met the undead's charge with a roar, the Blades of Chaos spinning in a deadly blur at his side. Each slash cut down several undead, their lifeless bodies collapsing to the ground as he pressed forward. Mimir, attached to his belt, hollered encouragements and quick advice, his single eye darting around the battlefield, taking in the scene.
Together, they formed a formidable line of defense, holding their ground against Decimus and his undead army.
With a furious growl, Kratos tore through an undead, ripping it in half as if it were nothing but paper. He then swung his Blades of Chaos once more. This time, though, instead of merely cutting through his enemies, the blades also sent a wave of energy pulsing through the air. It was an eerie, undulating force that emanated from him, washing over the remaining undead.
The Blades of Chaos, now imbued with Sandal's rune, did more than just burn their foes. The undead caught within the wave suddenly found their movements slowed, as if they were wading through thick tar. They staggered, their movements sluggish and disjointed.
Kratos wasted no time. He launched himself at the slowed undead, his blades a flurry of fiery death. He carved through them with ease, each swing of his weapon cleaving through rotting flesh and brittle bone. The undead, too slow to defend themselves or fight back, were decimated under his relentless assault.
Suddenly, Decimus dropped his defenses and, with a furious howl, launched a fireball straight at the mages. Hawk saw the attack coming and acted instinctively. His arm, with the blade affixed, reached out and disrupted the incoming fireball. It shattered like glass, the destructive energy dispersed harmlessly. The intervention, however, came at a price: the backlash from the disrupted spell caused a searing pain to shoot through Hawk's arm.
Undeterred, Hawk gritted his teeth and surged forward, ignoring the pain. In a swift and decisive motion, he leaped towards Decimus, stabbing both his blades into the mage. Decimus let out a pained gasp, then slumped to the ground, his life extinguished.
Seeing her brother injured, Bethany rushed to Hawk's side. Her eyes flickered with concern as she examined the burn on his arm. Although it was only minor - thanks to the diluted power of Decimus's blood magic - it was evident that Hawk was in pain. Without a second's hesitation, Bethany began to weave a healing spell. Her magic suffused the injury, mending the charred skin and alleviating the pain.
As Hawk's allies attentively tended to his injuries, Grace slowly approached them. She seemed to be in a state of shock, her eyes wide. "You...saved us," she stammered out.
Hawk glanced over at her, his expression calm despite the recent bout of intense combat. Mimir, hanging from Kratos' belt, let out an approving chuckle, remarking on Hawk's tremendous display of willpower and tenacity.
Turning his attention fully to Grace, Hawk simply replied, "Of course I did... it was the right thing to do." His words were resolute, revealing the depth of his commitment to justice and his willingness to protect those who could not protect themselves.
Kratos, who had been silently observing the scene, nodded solemnly at Hawk's words. He was all too familiar with the cost of enduring physical pain, the raw burns from the chains of his Blades of Chaos a constant reminder of his own torment and determination.
"There's a strength to you, Hawk," Kratos commented, his voice rough yet brimming with respect. "To bear such pain and still press on... It is a trait not many possess."
His intense gaze met Hawk's, acknowledging their shared understanding of the price of their strength and their relentless pursuit of doing what was right, regardless of the personal cost.
Seeing the apprehensive looks on the mages' faces, Hawk gave them a reassuring nod. "We need to head back and talk with Sir Thrask. Quickly," he advised, flexing his fingers and glancing at the entrance of the cavern. "I'll vouch for you all, every single one of you. I won't let you face the wrath of Sir Karras."
The mages shared uncertain looks, but Hawk's conviction seemed to quell their fears. Slowly, they began to gather themselves together, preparing to follow Hawk and his companions back to confront the Templars waiting outside. Their safety was far from guaranteed, but they had a new glimmer of hope now, a chance for survival they didn't have before. Hawk's promise was a lifeline they were desperate to grasp onto.
The group continued through the winding caverns, their path illuminated only by the sporadic glow of the minerals embedded in the walls and the faint, ghostly light that emanated from the blades of chaos. A cold chill hung in the air, a tangible sign of the blood magic that had recently swept through the area.
Suddenly, an eerie growl echoed off the cave walls, and another group of undead lurched into their path. Their eyes glowed with unnatural light, a grim reminder of Decimus's perversion of magic. The mages behind them gasped, huddling together as they watched with wide, fearful eyes.
Kratos was the first to react, his Blades of Chaos flaring to life with an inferno of blue-white flame. With a series of precise, expertly coordinated movements, he cut through the undead, their bodies burning and disintegrating into ash. Aveline followed suit, her sword slicing through the shambling creatures with lethal precision.
Hawk took on a few of the remaining undead, his blades slashing through them like a hot knife through butter. Anders and Bethany were at his side, their spells crackling through the air and reducing the remaining undead to smoldering ashes.
As the last of the undead fell, they moved quickly, leaving the remnants of Decimus's blood magic behind. The mages followed them in silence, their faces pale but determined. They were closer to freedom, and though uncertainty lingered, the resolve in Hawk's words gave them hope.
Emerging from the cave, the group found themselves facing Sir Thrask and Sir Karras. The latter was evidently not in the mood for leniency or diplomacy, and his presence had created a tense atmosphere. Despite Thrask's pleas for more time, Karras' cold gaze turned toward Hawk and the mages accompanying him.
"Tell me, were there any practitioners of blood magic within?" He asked, his tone harboring a thinly veiled threat, his gaze transfixed upon the shivering mages huddled behind Hawk.
Hawk met Karras' gaze squarely, his response resolute. "Two mages, now deceased, were engaged in blood magic," he began, Kratos standing stoically by his side. "The rest here only sought escape and have no intention of engaging in forbidden magic."
A tense silence ensued as Karras absorbed Hawk's words. The Templars Karras had brought with him, poised for action, relaxed marginally at the assurance that the blood magic threat had been neutralized. But Karras himself remained unmoved.
"I see," he finally said, his words steeped in a chilling calm. "I appreciate your assistance, but this is now Templar business."
As he gestured to the Templars to seize the mages, Hawk, Kratos, Aveline, Anders, Bethany, and even Sir Thrask took a united stand before them. Their stance was firm, their intention clear - they would not allow the mages to be apprehended without a fight. A tense standoff had begun.
Hawk addressed Sir Karras directly, with determination etched onto his face. "These mages have already agreed to come quietly. We'll let Sir Thrask handle their transport," he declared.
The tension in the air was palpable. The Templars exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to react to this unexpected turn of events. They watched as their superior, Sir Thrask, remained steadfast beside Hawk and the others.
Sir Karras responded with a dark chuckle, his tone icy and threatening. "Are you sure you want to do this? If you persist, I'll have no choice but to report you to the Viscount."
Despite the weight of Karras' threat, Hawk held his gaze unwaveringly, the determination in his eyes clear for all to see. Thrask too stood his ground, his approving glance directed at Hawk suggesting shared resolve.
After a few tense moments, Karras broke the standoff, his face twisting into a scowl. "This isn't over," he warned, the threat resonating through the air. With that, he turned and strode away.
As his figure receded, the remaining tension eased, although the lingering promise of future conflict hung heavy. Yet, in the aftermath, there was a shared sense of respect, especially from Thrask, who nodded approvingly at Hawk's display of courage and unwavering dedication.
As the figures of Sir Karras and his Templars disappeared into the distance, everyone seemed to exhale in unison. The immediate danger had passed, but the relief was short-lived and tenuous, with the heavy understanding that the conflict was far from resolved.
Mimir, attached to Kratos's belt, let out a low whistle. "Well, that was quite a show of diplomacy," he commented, his tone carrying an unusual edge of respect. "Even by my standards, that was... intense."
His gaze shifted to the mages they had protected. They were visibly shaken, but there was a newfound glimmer of hope in their eyes - an ember that had been rekindled by Hawk's steadfast resolve. Even in the face of adversity, they had found allies willing to stand with them against the oppressive might of the Templars.
Once they safely escorted Sir Thrask and the mages back to Kirkwall, ensuring their security and seeing them settled, the tension in the air finally began to dissipate. The mages, still bearing the lingering traces of fear and gratitude, were taken in under Sir Thrask's watchful eye.
The templar turned to face the group, his stern face softening with sincere gratitude. "I can't thank you enough," he said, his voice carrying the weight of his relief. "You didn't just save lives today...you've shown these mages kindness and understanding. And that...that's more than they usually receive."
His gaze swept over each member of the group - over Aveline's determined expression, Anders' and Bethany's shared understanding, Kratos' reserved strength, and finally, resting on Hawk. "Your actions today may have bigger consequences than you realize. Thank you."
Despite the gravity of his words, a sense of hopeful optimism hung in the air. Perhaps change was possible after all.
…
Back with Cassandra who was listening to varrics story...she felt herself blush... "The way you describe him...is so...heroic..."
Varric looked up at Cassandra, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "That's because he is, Seeker. Hawke was one of a kind - a true hero in every sense of the word."
Cassandra was momentarily silent, her stern gaze softened by the hint of a blush on her cheeks. She was always so adamant about getting the facts and the truth. The emotion she was now experiencing, this unexpected connection to the characters in Varric's tale, was new to her.
She finally spoke, her voice betraying a slight hesitancy, "Your description...it's as if I can see him, feel the tension in the air, and even understand his motivations. It's...quite powerful, Varric."
The dwarf simply smiled, leaning back comfortably in his chair, "Just doing my part, Seeker. It's important you understand the whole story, not just the facts and figures. These were real people, with real struggles. And Hawke...Hawke was the most real of them all."
…
They still had part of the day left, and Hawk, Kratos, Mimir, and the others decided to make the most of their time by seeking out another task. As they reached the market in Hightown, their eyes fell upon Hubert, the merchant they had assisted with the dragons at the Bone Pit just the other day. Hubert's face instantly lit up with recognition and gratitude as he approached them, his gaze lingering on Hawk and Kratos.
"Well, if it isn't my esteemed associates!" Hubert exclaimed with a wide smile. "I must say, your heroic deeds at the Bone Pit have not gone unnoticed. I am forever grateful for your assistance."
Hawk returned the smile and extended a hand to shake Hubert's. "It was our pleasure to help, Hubert. How can we assist you today?"
Hubert's expression turned slightly more serious as he explained the situation. "You see, the workers who survived the dragon attack are hesitant to return to work. The incident has left them shaken and fearful. I was wondering if you could lend your persuasive skills and convince them to come back. It's crucial for the Bone Pit's operations to resume, and I'm willing to pay a few sovereigns as a token of my gratitude. It's all I have at the moment, I'm afraid."
Kratos, ever pragmatic, listened intently to Hubert's request. After a brief moment of contemplation, he shrugged his shoulders, signaling his agreement. "More coin means we would be closer to the fee for our expedition. I see no issue with assisting in this matter."
Mimir, ever the cheerful companion, chimed in with enthusiasm. "And who knows, we might be able to inspire these workers and restore their confidence. Count me in!"
Hawk nodded in agreement; their determination evident. "We accept your offer, Hubert. We'll use our skills to convince the workers to return to their posts. Just ensure the promised reward is ready for us when we're done. Deal?"
Hubert's face lit up with relief and gratitude. "Deal! Thank you, Hawk, Kratos, and the rest of you. I can't express how grateful I am. The Bone Pit's production has suffered greatly, and your efforts will make a significant difference."
With their agreement settled, Hawk and their companions set off towards the Bone Pit, ready to tackle this new task and bring stability back to the lives of the hesitant workers.
Their journey into Lowtown was swift, following Hubert's instructions. As they arrived near the Hanged Man, they spotted the man from the mine, the one they had saved from certain peril. His eyes widened with recognition as he caught sight of Hawk and Kratos, the heroes who had come to his rescue.
A sense of relief washed over him as he approached, his gratitude evident. "Hawk, Kratos, I never thought I would see you again. You saved my life back at the mine, and I am forever grateful."
Hawk nodded, acknowledging the man's gratitude. "We're glad to see you safe and well. How have things been for you since then?"
The man's expression turned somber as he shared his fears and concerns. "Truth be told, I'm scared to return to work. The memory of that dragon attack haunts me, and I can't shake the feeling that something terrible might happen again."
Hawk placed a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder. "I understand your fear. But you are not alone in this. We are here to help and protect you. If you encounter any further problems or feel unsafe, seek us out. We will stand by your side and ensure your well-being."
The man's face brightened, gratitude replacing his earlier apprehension. "Thank you, Hawk. Your words bring me hope and reassurance. I will remember your offer, and if the need arises, I won't hesitate to reach out."
A glimmer of hope shone in his eyes as he approached, contemplating their offer. After a brief moment of contemplation, he nodded resolutely. "You know what? You're right. We can't let fear hold us back forever. We'll return to work."
Hawk and Kratos exchanged a satisfied glance, pleased to see the man's change of heart. "That's the spirit," Hawk replied, a hint of encouragement in their voice. "We'll be here to support you every step of the way. Together, we can overcome any challenges that come our way."
With newfound determination, the man turned to his fellow workers who had been observing the conversation. "Alright, lads, let's not waste any more time. We've got a living to make and work to do. We'll show them what we're made of!"
The workers nodded in agreement, their expressions shifting from doubt to determination. They began to mobilize, preparing to return to their duties with a renewed sense of purpose. Hawk, Kratos, and their companions watched with satisfaction, knowing that they had played a part in restoring confidence and inspiring resilience.
As the workers set off towards the Bone Pit, ready to resume their tasks, Hawk couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. They had not only convinced the workers to return to work but also instilled a newfound sense of unity and strength within them.
After a few minutes, Hawk and their companions returned to Hubert in Hightown. The merchant wore a wide smile as he greeted them, clearly pleased with their success. He had already met with the workers from the mine and was eager to share his observations.
"You won't believe it," Hubert exclaimed, excitement lacing his voice. "Those men you spoke to, they've transformed! It's like they've found a newfound strength within themselves. They're brimming with confidence and determination."
After a few minutes, Hawk and their companions returned to Hubert in Hightown. The merchant wore a wide smile as he greeted them, clearly pleased with their success. Hawk nodded, acknowledging the transformation of the mine workers that Hubert spoke of.
"That's good to hear," Hawk replied with a hint of satisfaction in their voice. "Everyone deserves a chance to find their inner strength."
Hubert reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag, handing it to Hawk. "Consider this a token of my gratitude," he said, a genuine appreciation in his eyes. "A few extra sovereigns and some silver as a bonus for a job well done."
Hawk accepted the bag with a nod of thanks. "We appreciate it, Hubert. It was our pleasure to assist you."
Hawk, Kratos, Aveline, and the others made their way to the Chantry in Hightown, their curiosity piqued by the notice board. As they approached, they noticed a woman, Macha, preparing to post a notice for help. Intrigued, Hawk stepped forward, offering their assistance.
"It seems you need some help," Hawk stated, their voice filled with genuine concern. "Perhaps we can be of assistance. What seems to be the issue?"
Macha's face brightened as she turned to face Hawk and the rest of the group. Relief washed over her, evident in her expression and voice. "Thank the Maker! I've been desperately seeking aid," she exclaimed. "It's about my brother, Keran. He joined the Templars, but he's gone missing. I fear that Knight-Commander Meredith may have something to do with it."
Hawk's eyes softened with empathy as they listened to Macha's heartfelt plea. They understood the anguish of a concerned sibling and the desire to uncover the truth. Stepping closer to Macha, Hawk placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"Macha, we hear your worries, and we promise you that we will do everything in our power to investigate your brother's disappearance," Hawk said earnestly, their voice filled with determination. "No stone will be left unturned, and we will seek out the truth, no matter where it leads us."
Kratos, ever the pillar of strength, stood steadfast beside Hawk, his presence offering silent reassurance. "Your brother's welfare is of utmost importance to us," he affirmed, his deep voice resonating with conviction. "We will find him and bring those responsible to justice."
Aveline, as the Captain of the Guard, stepped forward with a resolute expression. "Macha, you have our word that we will approach this matter with utmost diligence," she vowed, her tone conveying her commitment. "Knight-Commander Meredith's actions must be scrutinized, and we will uncover the truth behind Keran's disappearance."
Macha's eyes filled with gratitude, a glimmer of hope replacing the fear that had clouded her gaze. She nodded, her voice trembling with gratitude. "Thank you, all of you," she whispered. "Knowing that you are on our side gives me the strength to endure."
Macha's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope as an idea sparked in her mind. "There's someone you should speak to," she suggested, her voice tinged with anticipation. "Hugh, a Templar recruit, was a close friend of my brother Keran. He might have valuable information or insights into his sudden disappearance."
Hawk nodded, acknowledging the significance of this lead. "Thank you, Macha. We will seek out Hugh and see what he knows," they assured her, their voice filled with determination. "Any piece of information, no matter how small, could help us uncover the truth."
…
With Macha's guidance, Hawk, Kratos, and the rest of their allies made their way to the Gallows Courtyard where the Templar recruits trained under the watchful eyes of the Order. The courtyard was bustling with activity as aspiring Templars honed their skills, their dedication evident in each swing of their swords.
Hawk, Aveline, and the others approached the trio of Templars, the stench of sweat and the metallic tang of weapon oil mingling in the air of the bustling Gallows Courtyard. The two older Templars, Ruvena and Paxley, maintained their discipline and silence, their attention on the recruits training before them. The third man, a youthful figure named Hugh, watched the approaching group with keen eyes.
"Excuse me," Hawk called, his tone balancing respect with the authority he was known for. "We're seeking a Templar recruit named Hugh. He's a friend of a man named Keran, who's recently joined your order."
Hugh stepped forward at this, exchanging a swift glance with his comrades. "I am Hugh," he confirmed, his gaze flickering over the unusual group before him. He glanced at the talking head strapped to Kratos' belt and his eyebrow twitched, but he made no comment on the oddity.
"We were sent by Macha, Keran's sister," Hawk explained, noting the flicker of surprise in Hugh's eyes at Keran's name. "She's deeply worried for him; he's gone missing. We were hoping you might have some insights."
Ruvena and Paxley stiffened at the mention of a missing Templar, their faces instantly hardening into guarded masks. They made a move to intervene, but Hugh raised his hand, silencing them. He shot them a look, one that suggested he was not about to turn a blind eye to a possible injustice.
"I do know something," he admitted, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in towards the group. "It's about Knight-Commander Meredith. She's... she's been enforcing a new ritual. Templars deemed insufficiently dedicated to the cause have been subjected to it... and then they disappear."
A ripple of unease traveled through the group at his words. "Disappear?" Hawk questioned, his brow furrowing.
Hugh nodded grimly. "Yes, they're... they're just gone. I don't know what exactly happens, but I fear the worst." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "There's talk of it being a way to 'enhance' us, to make us stronger, but the details are shrouded in secrecy. I don't know if those who disappear are victims of the ritual or... or something else."
His voice held an undercurrent of fear and uncertainty, his usual stoic exterior cracking slightly under the weight of his concerns. He glanced again at his fellow Templars, who remained silent but watched the interaction with veiled apprehension.
"We should discuss this more privately," Hugh suggested, his gaze flickering around the courtyard. "Meet me at the Hanged Man after sundown. We'll be less likely to attract unwanted attention there."
With a newfound lead and a promise to meet later, Hawk and the group made their way out of the Gallows Courtyard, leaving the trio of Templars behind. Hugh's serious gaze followed them, his mind filled with concern for his friend Keran and the mysterious fate of his fellow Templars. As night fell, the group made their way to the Hanged Man, each of them pondering the grim news and what it could mean for their missing Templar.
As the evening settled, the Hanged Man bustled with its usual patrons, the din of laughter, drinking, and storytelling filling the air. Amidst the crowd, Hugh walked in, scanning the room before spotting Hawk, Kratos, and the others at a table in the corner. Without wasting a moment, he navigated through the crowd and sat down across from them.
"I need to be quick," he began in a hushed whisper, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting to see someone watching him. His nervousness was palpable, his fingers tapping against the table in a steady rhythm. "I don't fully understand what's happening, but I can tell you where it is."
He leaned in closer, his voice barely audible over the tavern's racket. "It's a camp, a Templar named Wilmond is there. You'll find it along the coastline outside of Kirkwall."
Aveline, ever the investigator, scribbled down the information on a scrap of parchment. She looked up at Hugh, her gaze serious as she nodded in understanding. "We've got it, Hugh," she assured him.
Hugh exhaled a sigh of relief. Still, his eyes held a glimmer of fear and uncertainty. "Good. I... I need to return to my duties before they suspect anything."
With that, he swiftly rose from the table, giving one last wary look over his shoulder before vanishing into the crowd. His words echoed in the group's mind, their thoughts consumed by the daunting task ahead - infiltrating a Templar camp in search of answers about the mysterious ritual and Keran's whereabouts.
…
The break of dawn found Hawk, Kratos, Aveline, Anders, and Bethany tracing the outskirts of Kirkwall. They followed the directions given by Hugh, looking for signs of a Templar camp as they moved along the coastline.
However, they came upon an unexpected encounter. A young Templar recruit, knees trembling, stared up at a familiar face from the Kirkwall Circle of Magi - Knight-Captain Cullen. His voice carried over the distance, severe and stern, as he disciplined the young recruit.
Aveline, Anders, and Bethany instinctively tensed, preparing to intervene. But Hawk's hand stilled their forward progress, a quiet command of patience. "Hold on," Hawk murmured, their eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "Something's off."
A strange sensation, akin to the suffocating pressure one might feel when in the vicinity of a demon, hung in the air. It was a feeling they'd all become familiar with over the course of their adventures. The source was not Cullen, however, but the shaking recruit.
Kratos, ever perceptive, was the first to voice this observation. "The recruit," he rumbled, his keen eyes locked onto the young man. "The feeling is emanating from him."
Their minds raced to make sense of this development. Whether the recruit was under the influence of a demon or was the subject of some dark Templar ritual, they weren't certain. What was evident, however, was that they needed to intervene before it was too late.
With a shared nod, their hands instinctively found their weapons, determination hardening their expressions. Whatever awaited them, Hawk, Kratos, Aveline, Anders, and Bethany steeled themselves for the forthcoming confrontation.
As Hawk and the others revealed themselves, stepping from the shadowed fringes of the path into the dim morning light, an eerie sense of performance fell over the scene. The recruit's sudden, panicked confession to Cullen, that he knew nothing, seemed almost perfectly timed. It was as if he had anticipated their appearance, and his words were meant to garner their sympathy.
However, Cullen, the stoic Knight-Captain, did not share the same sentiment. With a swift strike to the recruit's face, he drew his sword, ready to enact his Templar duty. The recruit spun to face Hawk and the group, his plea for help catching in the tense morning air.
But Hawk was not so easily swayed. Stepping forward, he held up a hand. "Enough," he declared, his voice steady and piercing. "You can drop the act. We can sense the lingering presence of demonic residue on you. It tends to stand out to our senses after a while."
The silence that followed was thick, the tension building as Cullen glanced sharply at Hawk, and then back to the recruit. The recruit, for his part, seemed to relish the moment of surprise, a smirk slowly spreading across his face.
"That will be the last time you threaten me," he sneered at Cullen. In a blink, his form twisted and morphed, reshaping into a grotesque shade. The transformation was swift and alarming, as the once seemingly innocent recruit was now a formidable enemy.
Their surroundings were plunged into an eerie calm as they prepared to face the demon, its form flickering ominously in the rising dawn light. With a glance at each other, Hawk, Kratos, Aveline, Anders, and Bethany readied their weapons, their resolve unwavering in the face of the unexpected threat.
The morning quiet was abruptly shattered as the shade uttered an incomprehensible command. From the shadows surrounding the path, twisted forms lunged forward. Abominations, once people now possessed and disfigured, joined the battle, their grotesque bodies contorting in a grotesque display of corrupted magic.
The shade lunged towards Cullen, who was momentarily taken aback by the sudden transformation. As the battle broke out, Hawk and their group sprang into action, Kratos at the forefront with a growl that echoed through the fray. His axe, imbued with the power of lightning, cleaved through the air with a vicious hum.
The first abomination to come within his reach was struck down by a crackling bolt of electricity, discharging from the head of the axe. The creature screamed as it was violently thrown back, convulsing as the current ravaged its twisted body.
Next, Kratos switched to his Blades of Chaos. The cursed weapons, now given the power to manipulate time, whirred around him in a deadly dance. As an abomination lunged at him, he unleashed the power of the blades. Time seemed to stretch, the creature slowing down as though moving through thick syrup, leaving it vulnerable to Kratos's precise strikes.
Meanwhile, Hawk, Aveline, Anders, and Bethany dealt with the remaining abominations. Hawk's expertise as a rogue allowed them to weave through the battle, daggers glinting dangerously as they dispatched one creature after another. Aveline stood firm, her shield and sword a bulwark against the onslaught, while Anders and Bethany worked in tandem to protect the group and assault the enemies with a barrage of spells.
In the midst of the chaos, Kratos activated the rune on his shield. A shimmering barrier formed around him, protecting him from the enchantments hurled his way. Another abomination, spewing a venomous cloud, attacked. With a quick tap on his leather armor, the rune glowed, rendering Kratos immune to the poison.
Kratos then focused his attention on the shade. With a determined roar, he charged, his blades cutting a path through the abominations. The shade, preoccupied with Cullen, was taken by surprise. With a powerful swing of his axe, Kratos struck, lightning erupting from the impact, searing into the shade.
The battle raged on, a flurry of magic, metal, and monstrous roars. With their combined strengths and Kratos's enhancements, they pushed back the horde of abominations, inching closer towards victory.
Kratos stood tall amidst the chaos of the battlefield, his hand outstretched as his axe hurtled back towards him. The familiar weight of the weapon settled into his grasp, the lightning-infused weapon humming with residual power. But the God of War was far from done. With a flick of his wrist, he switched to his Blades of Chaos again, the fiery weapons spinning in a dangerous dance around him.
The shade, now huddled on the ground, reared back at the sight of Kratos, his imposing form silhouetted against the glow of the sunrise. It could sense the deadly heat radiating off the blades, the very flames that had already claimed the lives of its abomination minions. Fear emanated from the creature as it tried to scramble away, desperation seeping into its otherworldly shrieks.
But there was no escape from the wrath of the God of War.
Kratos strode forward, each step measured and resolute, his eyes burning with an unyielding determination. As he reached the cowering shade, he wasted no time. With a swift, practiced movement, he plunged both of his blades into the creature, the sharp points easily piercing its shadowy form.
The Blades of Chaos roared to life, the Flames of Chaos churning and writhing as they were unleashed into the creature. The shade let out a high-pitched wail as the flames consumed it, the fire searing through its form, reducing it to ashes in an instant. Its screams echoed through the silent battlefield before they gradually faded away, the only sound remaining was the soft crackling of the dying flames.
Kratos stood there, the Blades of Chaos glowing dimly in the aftermath of the battle. The sun was rising, casting long shadows over the once chaotic battlefield, now eerily silent.
Maker... Cullen muttered as he starred at the pile of ashes... I've heard the stories, but I hardly believed them... no one in this world could emit that much heat and not come out unscathed... you, you're not from here, are you?
"No... I'm not," Kratos confirmed, his voice a low rumble that echoed in the silent battlefield. He returned his Blades of Chaos to their place, the ethereal flames snuffed out, leaving only the morning light to cast long shadows on the ground. He turned to face Cullen, his imposing stature and piercing gaze enough to unsettle anyone.
"I come from a place quite different from here," he continued, a hint of a distant past reflecting in his eyes. "A place where Gods and monsters exist, where the heat of battle is the very essence of existence."
His words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the brutal realities they faced. Cullen remained silent, his eyes wide as he processed the truth. He had seen the power that Kratos wielded, the effortless way he dispatched the shade and its minions.
Finally, Cullen nodded, his gaze not leaving Kratos. "I see," he said, the gravity of the situation clear in his voice. "The tales of your strength were not exaggerated. The Templars... the Chantry... we could use someone like you. But your powers... they're beyond what any of us could ever comprehend."
Kratos merely nodded. Knowing with some respect that Cullen was realizing what he was.
It was then that Cullen put the pieces together, the truth... your... a god from another realm... a god of war aren't you...?
Kratos remained silent for a moment, his steely gaze meeting Cullen's inquisitive one. The silence that enveloped them was heavy, full of anticipation. Finally, Kratos nodded, breaking the silence with his deep, rumbling voice.
"Yes," he admitted, the single word hanging in the morning air, echoing the truth of his identity. "I am Kratos, the God of War."
Cullen took a step back, surprise etching into his features. He'd heard tales of powerful beings from the fade, but to meet a person, let alone a god from another world, was something entirely different.
His gaze fell back onto Hawk and their companions. He wondered how they could stand alongside such a formidable entity. Yet, as he looked closer, he saw not fear in their eyes, but respect. It was clear they had all faced many battles together and had come to trust Kratos.
Overcoming his initial shock, Cullen gave a respectful nod towards Kratos. "We... are grateful for your assistance, God of War," he said, a newfound respect lacing his words. "Our fight against these abominations... it's far from over. But with allies like you, I believe we can face whatever comes our way."
He then looked back at the shade's ashes. "I just wish we could have helped Wilmond." He said with some regret.
There was a moment of silence as they all digested those words.
Cullen's words lingered in the air. The revelation struck them hard; the enemy they had just fought and vanquished had once been Wilmod, one of the Templars reported missing. The magnitude of the loss and the grim reality of what the Templars were up against became all the more evident.
Hawk's gaze dropped to the pile of ashes, a mixture of anger and sorrow clouding their eyes. "It seems we've uncovered the dark secret of the Templars' missing recruits," they said quietly. "It's worse than we could have imagined. They are not just disappearing... they are being turned into abominations."
Aveline, a hardened soldier yet not immune to the sting of such revelations, clenched her fists. "This is an abomination in itself. Using their own men, people who trust them... It's despicable," she seethed, her face hardening into a mask of determination. "We must put a stop to this."
Bethany, quiet till now, finally spoke up. Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with anger and resolve. "We won't let them suffer like this. We can't. We have to fight, for Wilmod and all the others."
Anders looked at the group, a grim determination set on his face. "I've seen too much of this… and while I'm no fan of the templars, I will not let this continue."
The group turned their gaze back to Cullen, their expressions hardened, and their resolve stronger than ever. The Templar sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. "I... I did not know. But I will assist you in any way I can. We cannot allow this to continue."
Kratos, silent through the exchange, finally spoke. "Then we will end it. For Wilmod and for all those lost." The God of War's voice was as hard as stone, his determination unwavering. "We will bring those responsible to justice. The guilty will pay."
As they stood at the edge of the shoreline, a solemn hush fell over the group. Cullen broke the silence, his voice low and grave. "Wilmod and Keran... they were both seen at the Blooming Rose before they disappeared."
His words hung heavy in the morning air, stirring a shared sense of resolve amongst the group. The Blooming Rose, a well-known local establishment, was now a critical lead in their investigation.
Hawk's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "The Blooming Rose? That's a lead we can follow. We need to uncover the truth behind their visits."
Aveline gave a curt nod, her expression firm. "Agreed. There's likely more to their disappearance than we currently know. We should investigate this immediately."
Anders, casting a thoughtful glance at the horizon, added, "We need to tread carefully. Whatever is behind this, it's managed to ensnare Templars and turn them into abominations. We can't underestimate it."
Kratos rumbled his agreement, his gaze hardened with determination. "We proceed with caution. But we must not delay. More lives could be at risk."
Bethany, sharing the group's resolve, nodded. "We need to act quickly and carefully. The Blooming Rose is our best lead, and we can't afford to let it slip."
After hawk picked up a design rune of impact. They agreed to head out.
With their course set, the group turned away from the coastline and towards Kirkwall, a newfound determination in their steps. The mystery of the Templars' disappearance had taken an unexpected turn, and it was up to them to follow this lead and uncover the truth. The day was still young, and their search was far from over.
Upon entering the blooming rose, Cullen decided to stay outside, as it would draw suspicion for him to be there after all.
As they stepped into the vibrant ambiance of the Blooming Rose, Hawk, Kratos, and their companions immediately felt the shift in atmosphere. The scent of various perfumes filled the air, mingling with the soft music playing in the background. Hawk led the group towards the reception, where Viveka, the establishment's manager, greeted them.
"Serah Hawk, it's a pleasure to have you at the Blooming Rose," she began, her voice warm. "How may I assist you today? Perhaps you'd like to schedule an appointment with one of our finest?"
Hawk raised a hand, signaling for a more serious conversation. "I appreciate the offer, Viveka," he said, his tone shifting to one of solemnity. "However, we're here for a different purpose."
Viveka's smile faded, her eyebrows raising slightly at the change in Hawk's demeanor. "Oh?" she inquired, leaning forward with curiosity. "And what might that be?"
Hawk took a deep breath, straightening his posture before he began to explain the situation. "We're investigating a rather disturbing matter," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Several Templars have gone missing recently, and our investigation led us here."
Viveka's eyes widened with surprise and a hint of fear. "Here?" she echoed, looking genuinely taken aback. "I assure you, Serah, we value the privacy and safety of our patrons. We would never get involved in such... troubles."
"We understand that, Viveka," Hawk replied, his gaze steady. "We don't suspect the Blooming Rose. However, we believe that two of the missing Templars, Wilmod and Keran, may have met someone here before their disappearance."
A thoughtful silence enveloped Viveka as she mulled over the information. "Wilmod and Keran," she mused aloud, her brows furrowing. "I do remember them. They were regulars here. However, they always kept a low profile... "
As she trailed off, a young courtesan approached their table. She looked at Hawk nervously before speaking. "Excuse me, Madame Viveka, Serah Hawk," she began, wringing her hands. "I... I overheard your conversation, and... I might have some information."
All eyes were now on her, prompting her to continue. "Keran and Wilmod... they were often seen with a woman," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "An exotic lady from the East. Her name is Idunna."
Hawk and his companions exchanged a glance. This was the lead they needed. "Idunna," Hawk repeated, the name resonating in his mind. "Is she here?"
Viveka shook her head, a troubled look on her face. "I'm afraid Idunna isn't here at the moment. She usually visits late in the evenings. However, you could check her room. It's the Sapphire Suite, upstairs."
"Thank you, Viveka," said Hawk, nodding appreciatively. He turned to his companions. "We need to search Idunna's room. Anything we find could bring us a step closer to finding the missing Templars."
With a renewed sense of urgency, they ascended the stairs, their minds brimming with questions. Would they find answers in the Sapphire Suite? What role did this mysterious Idunna play in the Templars' disappearances? As they reached the door, they steeled themselves, ready to face whatever secrets awaited them within.
The door to the Sapphire Suite opened to reveal a woman with a distinctly exotic aura about her, lounging on the bed with a knowing smile on her lips. It was Idunna.
"Serah Hawk," she purred, her eyes gleaming with intrigue. "I've been expecting you."
Hawk and his companions remained standing, their gazes scanning the room for any signs of danger. When asked about her connection to the missing Templars, Idunna skillfully evaded their questions, remaining tight-lipped about her interactions with Keran and Wilmod.
"Enough with the talking," she dismissed them with a wave of her hand. "Why don't we have some fun?"
Before Hawk could retort, he found the sharp end of his own blade against his throat, the cold steel of it sending chills down his spine. His companions seemed to be trapped in their own worlds, their eyes vacant as though under some enchantment. Even Kratos seemed entranced, his eyes seeing nothing but an empty room. The familiar voice of Mimir echoed trying to get his attention, trying to rouse him from his stupor.
"Brother…? BROTHER?! KRATOS?! SNAP OUT OF IT! SHE'S GOT CONTROL OF YOU!"
It was blood magic. The unmistakable taint of it hung in the air, manipulating their senses and suppressing their willpower.
"D-don't... listen..." Hawk managed to choke out, fighting against the enchantment. His voice was strained, but filled with determination.
Then…. Hawk, poured everything he had into a sudden burst of willpower. Everything he had.
In an unexpected burst of will, Hawk broke free from the enchantment, his blade clattering to the floor as his senses returned. His companions blinked, shaken from their trances as the illusion shattered before their eyes.
Idunna recoiled, her confident demeanor replaced by shock. "How... how did you...?" she stammered, her eyes wide with disbelief. "How?"
Even Kratos, the storied God of War, found himself taken aback. His gaze rested upon Hawk, a mere mortal who had managed to shatter an illusion that had ensnared even the divine.
The illusion wasn't just potent; it was daunting, mirroring the malevolent deceptions cast by the Furies, those ancient goddesses of retribution. Kratos recalled his encounters with those formidable entities, who employed manipulative illusions to bewitch and ensnare their targets. Those illusions, which challenged the might and resolve of even the gods, were profoundly intricate, demanding the utmost willpower to unravel.
But this illusion, invoked here and now, was on a different scale altogether—infinitely more compelling, ensnaring not only the senses but also the mind. It was a nefarious blend of blood magic and subtle enchantment that had caught even Kratos, a seasoned warrior and a god, off guard.
Yet, Hawk, an unassuming mortal, had managed to break free.
The realization filled Kratos with a sense of respect he had rarely felt for any mortal. He found himself underestimating Hawk, who had just demonstrated a display of willpower and resilience that would have been formidable even among the gods. Hawk was not any ordinary mortal, Kratos now understood. The fact that Hawk had broken free from such a formidable illusion, while he, a God of War, had been momentarily entrapped, bore testament to the mortal's remarkable mental strength and resilience.
Kratos was momentarily dumbfounded, his mind wrestling with this reality. A mortal had shown him, a seasoned god, an unprecedented display of willpower. He could only nod silently, his gaze reflecting the newfound respect he held for Hawk. In his silence and contemplation, Kratos stood with a renewed curiosity and admiration for the resilient mortal before him.
"WHAT FOULD MAGIC WAS THAT…! Hawk demanded after catching his breath.
Finding herself cornered, Idunna could see no other option than to confess, her defiance visibly crumbling as she fell to her knees before Hawk.
"I...I was conducting a blood magic ritual," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, quaking with the raw vulnerability of her confession. "But then, a voice... a woman's voice echoed in my mind. She warned me to be cautious of the stranger accompanying you..."
Her words trailed off as she recalled the eerie incident, her complexion paling at the memory. "Her voice sent chills down my spine... and her green aura... it was nothing short of terrifying. She bestowed upon me the power to cast that illusion. But after that... I haven't seen her since."
Her eyes darted from one face to another, seeking understanding or at least a hint of mercy. Her hands were clasped tightly together in a futile effort to stop them from trembling. Despite her earlier bravado, she was clearly terrified by the memory, underlining the severity of the force they were dealing with.
None present could make sense of her words, but Kratos persisted, a tension mounting in his voice as he pressed on. "Did this woman wear peculiar armor? Does she have a propensity for strategy?" His words were laced with a foreboding that suggested he already knew the answer, and dreaded its confirmation.
"Yes," Idunna replied, her eyes widening as she looked up at Kratos. "And she referred to you as the 'Ghost of Sparta'... a title I'd never heard before." Her voice was a mere echo in the room, but the implications of her admission hung heavily in the air.
The name fell from Kratos' lips, a mere whisper, yet the weight of his tone caught everyone's attention. He was visibly tense, his expression hardening as he muttered, "Athena..." The implications of the Greek goddess' involvement seemed to hang heavy in the room.
Noticing kratos' distress hawk asked Idunna with some authority, "Did this, woman give you any hints to her whereabouts, anything at all? And why did she help you of all people."
Still processing the shock, Idunna managed to find her voice, "I... I do not know. She said the stranger with you and his... speaking head would understand her motives." She swallowed hard, her eyes darting between Hawk and Kratos, "And as to why she chose me... I can't say. After she cast the illusion, she vanished. I haven't seen her since."
Her words echoed in the silence that followed, each one like a hammer blow further deepening the mystery. The knowledge that Athena was somehow involved cast a gloomy shadow over their mission, complicating matters further.
Hawk could sense the unease from his companions, but it was Kratos and Mimir's agitation that truly heightened his worries. Nevertheless, he kept his focus on the task at hand, turning his attention back to Idunna. "Where did you send the Templar recruits?" he asked again, his tone laced with a demand for truth.
Idunna hesitated, her gaze flickering between Hawk and Kratos before she finally admitted, "I... I sent them to a man named Tarohne. She... she implants them with demons." As she spoke, her voice wavered with regret and fear. "She convinced me we could restore the Tevinter Imperium, that mages could rule again... not serve."
Her voice trailed off and she looked at Hawk and Kratos, her eyes pleading. "What... what are you going to do to me?" she asked, trembling.
Hawk shared a nod with Kratos, his decision already made. "You played with powers that even Kratos is weary to deal with," he began, his voice steady. "You put many lives at risk... I cannot let you go. It's too dangerous and..." Hawk's voice hardened. "This is justice for your victims... for everyone you've hurt."
With a swift motion, he plunged his blade into Idunna, and as she crumpled to the floor, there was silence in the room. No one objected, no one spoke up. The air was heavy with a grim understanding - justice had been served.
Following their grim task, the group made their exit from the brothel. Before they left, Hawk made sure to inform Viveka, the manager, about Idunna's dangerous involvement with blood magic.
Once outside, they were met by Cullen, who had been patiently waiting for their return. His brow furrowed as he observed their solemn expressions. He didn't need to ask what had transpired inside. The weight in their eyes spoke volumes.
…
As they carefully maneuvered through the labyrinthine alleyways that made up Darktown, an oppressive silence draped over the group. Both Kratos and Mimir were unusually taciturn. The bustling activity characteristic of Darktown seemed to have vanished, replaced by an unnerving stillness that mirrored the group's heightened tension.
Mimir, generally the bearer of tales and tidbits of wisdom, was eerily quiet, his two eyes reflecting the dimly lit surroundings. Kratos, too, was unusually reticent, his grim expression casting an even darker shadow on the somber atmosphere. The name 'Athena' had stirred something within them, a painful echo from a past fraught with battles and betrayals, and their silence was a testament to the storm that was brewing within.
As they treaded the path to the underground entrance in Darktown, a tense silence hovered around Kratos and Mimir. It was only broken when Kratos took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to share.
"Athena..." he began, his deep voice carrying a note of unspoken regret and pain. "She was my half-sister. Our father is Zeus... King of the Olympian gods." He paused momentarily, his gaze distant, as if seeing events that transpired long ago. "I killed her."
The revelation hung heavy in the air, a palpable shock settling over the group. Kratos continued, his voice hardened by the torment of memory. "She took my own attack, meant for our father. She jumped in the way to save him... I... I didn't mean to..." His voice faltered for a moment, before he regained his stoicism.
Hawk's eyes softened at the raw emotion, the pain of Kratos' past evident in his gruff voice. Taking a step closer, he met the Spartan's gaze. "Kratos," he began, his voice firm and reassuring. "Whatever you've done in the past, whoever you were, doesn't define who you are now. You're standing here, trying to do better, to be better. That past is not who you are anymore."
Kratos looked at him, surprise flashing in his eyes for a moment before it was replaced by an unreadable expression. But the slight nod he gave was a tell-tale sign, the reassurance from Hawk seemed to have made an impact, reminding him that he was more than the mistakes of his past.
"So… Mimir? Are there any bizarre gods out there?" Cullen asked after a short while.
Mimir let out a small chuckle at Cullen's question, the previous somber atmosphere temporarily displaced. "Bizarre gods? Aye, Cullen, there are more than a few of those," he began, his tone thoughtful.
"In the Egyptian pantheon, we have Khepri, the god associated with creation, the sun and rebirth. His form is particularly unusual, a man with the head of a scarab beetle – the beetle being a symbol of the rising sun."
"Then there's the Mayan pantheon, with Ah Puch, the deity of death. He's depicted as a skeletal figure with a distended belly the title, the stinky one. Not the most cheerful of gods, that one."
"In the vast and rich Japanese pantheon, there's Izanagi. Along with his wife Izanami, he's said to have created the islands of Japan and many other kami or gods. The part that always gets me is how, after a trip to the underworld, new gods sprung into existence from the items he discarded during his purification ritual just by washing his face off!"
"The Norse pantheon isn't without its own oddities, of course. Consider the mighty horse Sleipnir, for instance. The steed of Odin himself, and not just any horse, mind you. Sleipnir is a gallant creature with eight legs!"
"Finally, in the Celtic tradition, there's Manannán mac Lir, god of the sea. He had a boat that followed the thoughts of its passengers, a horse that could gallop across the waves, and a cloak that could turn its wearer invisible!"
"But remember, 'bizarre' is all a matter of perspective," Mimir finished, a glint in his eyes. "Every culture's gods reflect their own unique views of the world, and there's always something fascinating to learn about them."
"Are there any god's like Kratos?" Aveline asked.
Mimir nodded thoughtfully at Aveline's question. "Oh, aye, there are some parallels to be found in various pantheons, to be sure. Take, for instance, the figure of Tyr in the Norse pantheon."
"He was the god of war, similar to Kratos, but unlike the violence and destruction often associated with that title, Tyr was known for his wisdom, bravery, and dedication to justice. He valued the law and order in warfare, much like how Kratos here has his own codes."
"There's also the Egyptian god Horus. Like Kratos, Horus had a complex relationship with his father Osiris and his uncle Set. Set murdered Osiris, and Horus sought revenge which he eventually turned into a strong sense of justice, much as Kratos did with his own kin and learned from it, even if it wasn't always easy. Both Horus and Kratos have been through trials that tested their patience, resilience, and inner strength."
"And let's not forget about the Chinese deity, Erlang Shen. He's depicted as a mighty warrior with a third eye in the middle of his forehead that can see the truth of all things, somewhat like Kratos's Spartan Rage allowing him to perceive threats more effectively. Erlang Shen also had a troubled familial relationship, as he was tasked to fight his own mother, the demoness Nine-Tailed Fox."
"But remember," Mimir concluded, "while there may be similarities between these figures and Kratos, each of these gods and our friend here have their own unique stories and characteristics. No two paths tread in the divine world are ever truly the same."
Kratos remained silent throughout Mimir's explanation, but there was a slight narrowing of his eyes, a thoughtful look. It was clear the comparison to these gods had struck a chord within him.
"And yet? They all seek out justice, at least in some form…. Albeit different, they still tried to walk the balance between their laws and doing what's right…. Right?" Hawk asked Mimir.
Mimir indicated his agreement. "Well, the concept of justice can be quite subjective, varying greatly between cultures and individuals. But, if we're speaking in broad terms, then yes, they all strive for their own version of justice," he stated.
"Tyr, for one, was renowned for his sense of justice. Using his powers of a god to stop wars rather than stop them, a testament to his dedication towards preserving peace and order. He was also known to travel between realms, striving to bring about fair judgment and resolution to conflicts, much as Kratos has done," Mimir said, looking towards the Spartan.
"As for Horus and Erlang Shen, their quests for revenge were fueled by a need to bring their treacherous relatives to justice for the injustices they had committed. They all faced great challenges and made significant sacrifices in pursuit of their objectives."
"So, in essence, their stories all incorporate elements of a struggle for justice. But as I mentioned, each tale is unique in its own right, just as Kratos' is."
Kratos said nothing, but the acknowledgement was there in his eyes - a shared understanding between warriors, bound by a common thread of seeking justice in their own way.
…
Upon arriving at the entrance they and their decent into the underground tunnels, they were met with shades, abominations, a few rage demons and a few undead.
The menacing underground tunnels echoed with the horrific growls of creatures of the Fade. An ominous congregation of shades, abominations, rage demons, and undead beings lurked within the shadows, anticipating their next victims. However, they were about to face opponents unlike any they had ever encountered before.
First to act was Hawk, an experienced rogue accustomed to battles with Darkspawn and formidable mages. Silently, he drew his twin daggers and disappeared into the shadows, reappearing in a flash to sink his blades into a shade. With swift, practiced maneuvers, he moved from one enemy to the next, striking with deadly precision before melting back into the shadows.
Aveline, the stalwart shield of their group, was next. She charged forward, her shield held high, before slamming into a rage demon, sending it reeling backward. A quick thrust of her sword and the demon crumbled to ashes.
Anders, with the spirit Justice glowing within him, called upon his otherworldly ally. Together, they conjured a storm of ice shards that rained down upon a group of undead. The brittle bones shattered under the onslaught.
Bethany, with her innate connection to magic, twisted her hands in an intricate pattern. Fire sprang to life at her command, coiling like a serpent and striking a line of shades, reducing them to cinders.
Finally, the God of War, Kratos, joined the battle. He wielded his Leviathan Axe with brutal expertise, cutting through the enemy ranks. Lightning crackled along the blade as he utilized his rune power, and each swing sent deadly arcs of energy flying. The undead met swift and precise strikes, cleaving them apart. Simultaneously, he summoned the Blades of Chaos, their fiery glow casting eerie shadows on the tunnel walls. The blades danced in the air, dispatching abominations and rage demons alike with their searing touch.
For those who dared to approach too closely, his shield was ready. The rune on the shield shone brightly, providing a barrier against the enchantments of the rage demons. His leather armor, imbued with an anti-poison rune, shielded him from the venomous attacks of certain abominations.
In a short time, the enemies were vanquished. What was once a daunting force was now merely ashes and shattered bones. Their combined might, each utilizing their unique skills and capabilities, had easily dispatched the threats. United, they were an unstoppable force.
Navigating further down the passage, Hawk's keen eyes detected a hidden crate concealed amidst the rubble. With deft fingers, he opened the crate to reveal a Frost Rune of Warding schematic. Pocketing the valuable find, he led the group deeper into the tunnel.
A little farther down the path, Hawk's sharp eyes detected a rare plant among the rock debris. He carefully dug out the Deathroot, a lethal plant known for its toxic properties. In the right hands, it could be used to concoct potent poisons.
Suddenly, a scrap of paper caught his attention. Curiously, he picked it up and unfolded it. It was a codex entry, detailing esoteric knowledge about 'The Veil', the mystical barrier separating the world of the living from the spirit realm.
Knowing the significance of such knowledge for their current predicament, Hawk studied the page, absorbing its contents. But he realized that the information would be most useful to Kratos, who might need to confront Athena across the other side of this Veil.
Without a word, Hawk handed the page to Kratos, who accepted it with a nod of acknowledgment. Kratos scrutinized the page, the deep lines on his forehead growing deeper as he absorbed the information. If Athena was indeed behind all this, understanding the nature of the Veil could be crucial in their impending confrontations.
Thus, armed with new knowledge and resources, the group continued their descent into the depths of the underground. The Veil, once a mere concept to them, was now an obstacle they were prepared to confront. Athena's machinations were unfolding, but they were ready to meet them head-on.
Just ahead, Hawk's trained eyes caught sight of more skeletal remains littered haphazardly on the cavern floor. Experience had taught him not to underestimate the seemingly lifeless bones. With a fluid motion, he pulled out his blade and drove it through each skeletal corpse. His actions were rewarded when the bodies spasmed violently, then lay still, any residual animating magic snuffed out.
But the precautionary act was followed by a startling surprise. A cluster of ethereal Shades burst forth from the shadows, their features twisted into menacing forms. Their sudden appearance filled the air with a bone-chilling cold. But Bethany and Anders, prepared and on high alert, reacted instantly.
Channeling their magic, they unleashed a flurry of fireballs at the oncoming Shades. The fiery onslaught hit the targets, their fierce heat consuming the ghostly forms instantly. Flames danced and flickered off the cave walls as the Shades disintegrated, their shrieks echoing and then fading into nothing.
With the unexpected threat swiftly dealt with, the party pressed on, cautiously alert for more surprises lurking in the darkness of the underground.
The party turned a corner and were met with a vast open chamber. In the center stood Keran, encased within a pulsating bubble of raw energy, which acted as a magical cage, rendering him immobile and helpless. The aura surrounding the bubble hinted at powerful magic that none had encountered before.
From a shadowed corner, a figure stepped forward. A slender woman with piercing eyes and draped in ornate mage robes - it was Terohne. Her eyes sparkled with dark amusement as she took in the group. "Ah, Hawke," she purred, her voice dripping with condescension. "Always meddling in places you don't belong. And look, you've brought company."
Before Hawke could retort, Terohne's gaze settled upon Kratos. "Ah, the famed Ghost of Sparta," she said slyly. "I've been waiting for you specifically. Someone you're quite familiar with wanted me to deliver a message."
With a sinister smile, she stepped aside, revealing a tortured figure that halted Kratos in his tracks. It was Modi - beaten, broken, and barely recognizable. The disfiguring scars from his father's wrath marred his face, his leg twisted in an unnatural angle and his arm hung limply. But what was most haunting was the vacant look in his eyes, devoid of any life, and the sickly gray pallor of his skin.
Terohne's smile widened at Kratos' horrified reaction. "Do you like what I've done? The wonders of blood magic are endless. But what you see here," she said, motioning to Modi, "is a masterpiece of dark artistry – binding a demon to a lifeless body. A perfect vessel for vengeance, wouldn't you agree?"
Hawke, Aveline, and the rest of the group bristled with anger, hands inching towards their weapons, but it was Kratos whose fury was palpable. The weight of his past actions, combined with the perverse magic on display, left a seething rage boiling beneath the surface.
Terohne continued to taunt, "Tell me, Ghost of Sparta, does this sight bring back memories? Regrets, perhaps? The once mighty god now reduced to witnessing the horrors of his past."
The air in the chamber grew tense. Every member of the party was ready to spring into action, but Kratos remained rooted to the spot, grappling with the sheer depth of his emotions. The twisted manipulation of Modi, a foe he once pitied, was a torment he hadn't anticipated.
Terohne's smirk deepened, her cruel pleasure evident in her gaze. "You see," she continued, a sadistic lilt in her voice, "the experiment was only half a success. While his body proved...adequate, it seems that it could not retain the full essence of Modi's formidable strength."
She paused for dramatic effect, taking a moment to let the gravity of her words sink in. "It's mostly an instrument now—a puppet to my whims and a constant reminder of your past transgressions, Ghost of Sparta."
To emphasize her point, she turned her gaze to the possessed Modi. "Go thud your head into that wall over there," she commanded nonchalantly.
Without a moment's hesitation, the hollowed Modi obeyed, moving towards the nearest wall. The heavy sound of impact echoed throughout the chamber, sending a shiver down the spines of the assembled party. The lifeless vessel stood for a moment, face bloodied, before listlessly returning to its position, showing no signs of pain or recognition of the act it had just committed.
The chamber was eerily silent. Kratos's rage and torment were palpable, his knuckles white around the hilt of the Leviathan Axe. Every member of the party felt the weight of the grotesque display, the stark manifestation of Terohne's dark power and Kratos's own guilt.
Bethany's eyes shimmered with tears, her heart aching at the horror of the desecrated body. Anders, consumed by his own experiences with possession, clenched his fists, the glow of Justice flickering in his eyes. Aveline and Hawk, no strangers to cruelty, were equally horrified, their expressions a mix of anger and revulsion.
And Terohne stood there, savoring every moment of their distress, a malevolent smile playing on her lips.
Hawk's fury bubbled over, an inferno in his chest. Without a second's pause, he threw a concussion grenade directly at Terohne. The chamber echoed with its deafening explosion, temporarily blinding and disorienting the malevolent mage.
"ENOUGH!" Hawk's shout was thunderous, filling the chamber. "NO MORE OF YOUR TWISTED GAMES!"
From the periphery, Terohne's associates began to emerge, weapons at the ready. But as they lunged forward, they were met by a formidable force: Cullen.
The former Templar Commander, Cullen Rutherford, had seen and endured his fair share of darkness. With a fierce battle cry, he met the oncoming horde head-on. His greatsword cut a swathe through the ranks, each swing precise and deadly. The training he had undergone as a Templar and his leadership in the Templars made him a whirlwind of destruction, deflecting blows and retaliating with a skill that spoke of years on the battlefield.
Kratos, inspired by Cullen's valor, plunged into the melee. His Leviathan Axe and Blades of Chaos which are now order, wreaked havoc, each strike bringing down an enemy.
As Hawk and Kratos focused on the immediate threats, Bethany and Anders unleashed their magical prowess. Flames and torrents of arcane energy responded to their command, cutting down Terohne's minions. Anders, with Justice's power coursing through him, struck with an icy vengeance, while Bethany's flames danced, consuming enemies in their scorching embrace.
Aveline, the steadfast guardian, protected her comrades, her shield deflecting attacks while her sword dispatched foes with brutal efficiency.
But it was Cullen who stood out, his determination unwavering. Each of his strikes was a testament to his will to protect those in need, and he fought with a fervor that left a lasting impression. He parried, lunged, and slashed, his greatsword an extension of himself.
The chamber slowly quieted as the last of Terohne's associates met their end. Terohne herself was cornered, her sinister plans unraveled by the combined strength of the group.
Breathing heavily from the skirmish, the group's attention shifted back to Terohne, who, realizing she was outnumbered and outmatched, made a desperate move. With a sinister glint in her eyes, she quickly reached for a concealed dagger, attempting to slash her own palm, likely aiming to unleash some final destructive spell.
However, Hawk's reflexes were sharp. Swift as a shadow, he closed the distance and, with a deft move, knocked the blade from her grasp. Simultaneously, with his other hand, he yanked the staff away, ensuring she had no access to her magical conduit.
Staring down at the cornered mage, Hawk's voice was filled with cold determination. "Release Keran. And that poor soul over there," he gestured sharply to Modi's lifeless, possessed form, "GIVE HIM PEACE! END THE PACT! NOW!"
Terohne, fear evident in her eyes for the first time, looked around at the determined faces surrounding her. The weight of her situation bore down on her, the realization that she had lost all control.
Taking a shaky breath, she reluctantly began an incantation. It was slow and deliberate, and the air became thick with energy. With each word she uttered, the ethereal bindings around Keran started to dissipate. The bubble of energy imprisoning him vanished, leaving him gasping for breath as he slumped to the ground, free at last.
All eyes then shifted to Modi's body. As Terohne continued her chant, a dark, malevolent smoke began to rise from him. The demon bound to his corpse was being thrown back into the fade. With a final, agonizing scream, the dark entity vanished into the ether, leaving Modi's lifeless body in peace.
Hawk looked at Terohne one last time, searching her eyes for any sign of remorse or repentance. But all he saw was the emptiness of a soul that had given itself over to dark ambitions.
The cavern was silent save for the heavy breathing of those who had just faced the intense confrontation. Hawk, his face hard and eyes blazing, glared at Terohne, ensuring she had fulfilled her end. The weight of their victory, the release of those wrongfully ensnared in dark magic, settled upon them all. But there was also the recognition of the cost, and a somber reverence for Modi, whose body was finally given the rest it deserved.
Turning back to his allies, Hawk shared a momentary nod with Aveline, Cullen, Anders, Bethany, and Kratos. It was a silent, unanimous agreement: keeping Terohne alive was too dangerous. The risk of her escaping, of potentially wreaking more havoc and taking more lives, was simply too great to bear. She had made her choices, and now she would face the consequences.
Without another word, Hawk unsheathed his blade, its edge glinting menacingly in the dim light of the chamber. For a brief moment, his eyes met Terohne's, and in them, she saw her fate sealed.
With a swift, decisive movement, Hawk's blade descended, severing the last threads of Terohne's dark life. As she fell to the ground, the tension in the room seemed to lift, replaced by a heavy yet liberating silence.
Taking a deep breath, Hawk sheathed his dagger, the finality of the act sinking in. Though justice had been served, it was a grim reminder of the sacrifices and difficult choices that sometimes had to be made for the greater good.
The group gathered around Keran, who was visibly shaken but seemingly unharmed. "Are you alright?" Hawk asked, concern evident in his voice.
Keran nodded, though his eyes were shadowed with worry. "I think so. I don't feel... different. But can you be sure? Can you be sure I'm not possessed?"
Anders stepped forward, his eyes turning a momentary icy blue as Justice lent its support. He raised his hand, and a gentle wave of magical energy emanated from his palm, washing over Keran. The young Templar felt the warm sensation envelop him, and then it was gone. "You're not possessed," Anders declared firmly.
Kratos, who had been silent, now stepped forward. "I can't sense any demon in you either," he said, his voice tinged with a grim satisfaction. "You're clear."
Keran's shoulders dropped as if a great weight had been lifted. Still, he looked towards Cullen, uncertainty filling his eyes. "So, what happens to me now? Will I be expelled from the Templars? I could still be a liability, after all."
Cullen looked at Keran, taking in the worry etched on his young face, the sincerity in his eyes. Finally, he spoke, "If Anders and Kratos vouch for you, then that is good enough for me."
Cullen's gaze turned steely as he continued, "And you're right about one thing: Terohne wasn't working alone, given the scale of this operation. While we can't prove Knight-Commander Meredith was involved, this happened under her watch. We've got bigger problems in Kirkwall than one young, unpossessed Templar."
Cullen placed a reassuring hand on Keran's shoulder. "Your secret is safe with me. As far as I'm concerned, you're fit for duty."
Keran nodded, grateful but still deeply aware of the darkness they had all faced. Hawk, Anders, Bethany, Aveline, Kratos, and even Cullen—they had all been willing to put their lives on the line for him, and for what was right. It was a sobering thought, one that only solidified his determination to serve justly and honorably as a Templar, standing against the darkness just as they had stood against it today.
…
The group, now joined by Keran in his freshly-donned Templar armor, made their way through the labyrinthine streets of Kirkwall, each lost in their own thoughts after the intensity of the recent battle. The air was thick with tension, but also a kind of camaraderie that only comes from facing a mutual enemy and emerging victorious.
Finally, they arrived at their destination, a quaint house that stood out against the grime of the city. This was where Kratos's sister lived. The door swung open, and a young woman appeared, her face a mirror of relief and concern as she took in the group and her brother.
Before she could speak, Cullen stepped forward. His usually stern face was softened by sincerity as he met her eyes. "I want to offer my deepest apologies for what almost happened to your brother, Keran," he said, gesturing to the young Templar at his side. "I can assure you, we are doing everything in our power to ensure such an event never happens again."
Kratos's sister nodded, her eyes misty but grateful. "Thank you, Ser Cullen. Knowing that he has people who will stand up for him, who will fight for him—it means more than I can say."
Keran, standing a bit awkwardly in his armor, finally spoke. "It's thanks to them," he said, nodding towards Hawk, Aveline, Bethany, Anders, Kratos, and Cullen, "that I'm here at all. I owe them my life."
"And we," Hawk added, sharing glances with each member of the group, "owe each other the promise that we'll continue to fight against the darkness that threatens this city, as we did today."
Kratos nodded in agreement, his usually stoic face showing a hint of emotion. "Together, we are stronger than any foe, be it demonic or human."
It was a sentiment they all felt deeply. In a world filled with uncertainties, betrayals, and dangers lurking around every corner, the bonds forged in the heat of battle were often the most unbreakable.
As the front door creaked open, Leandra, Hawk and Bethany's mother, was already emerging from the kitchen, a welcoming smile on her face. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of Kratos, his expression clearly troubled, but she quickly masked it with the warmth that only a mother can muster.
"Looks like everyone's back in one piece," she observed, taking in her children and their company.
Kratos simply nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes a well of conflicting emotions. Beside him, Mimir, his constant advisor, was placed on the end of the table.
As they assisted Leandra in the kitchen—Bethany and Hawk chopping vegetables while Kratos somewhat awkwardly tried his hand at stirring a pot of stew—the tension in the room was palpable. Finally, after a glance at Bethany and Leandra, both engrossed in their tasks, Hawk took the opportunity to address the issue.
"So, Kratos, Mimir," he began cautiously, "it seems we all have a lot to think about after what happened today."
Kratos sighed, setting down the wooden spoon he was using to stir the pot. "Indeed, we do."
Kratos looked at Hawk, his eyes narrowed in thought. "I have fought beings of immense power—Furies, Titans, gods—all have fallen before me. Yet, when faced with simple human sorcery, I was bound. And then you," he gestured towards Hawk, "you freed us as if it were nothing."
Hawk chuckled nervously. "I guess I've had my fair share of dealing with magic. My sister's a mage, after all."
From his position on the table, Mimir, the severed head imbued with wisdom and arcane knowledge, interjected. "Oh, it's not every day you see a mortal break a spell so effortlessly, especially one that had ensnared the mighty God of War."
Kratos glanced down at Mimir before looking back at Hawk. "That's not it. For a moment, when you broke the enchantment, it was as if the very weave of the magic bent to your will. I could feel it unraveling, threads coming apart in response to your touch. How is that possible?"
Hawk looked puzzled, his eyes briefly meeting those of Bethany before he answered. "I'm not entirely sure. Maybe it's something in the blood, a talent passed down my family line. My father was a mage, and I've always had a knack for understanding things I shouldn't."
Kratos seemed to ponder this for a moment, his brow furrowing as if wrestling with something much larger than the day's events. Finally, he nodded, as if coming to some internal resolution. "This world you live in—its magic, its rules—they are different from what I know. But it is clear you possess a power that is extraordinary, even here."
Leandra, sensing the moment's gravity, chose that time to chime in. "Well, extraordinary or not, dinner is ready. Perhaps you can all discover the secrets of the universe after you eat."
As they all sat down to dinner, the weight of the day's events still rested heavy on their minds. Kratos was still processing not just the immediate threats they had faced, but also the enigma that was Hawk. And Mimir, despite his vast wealth of knowledge, was equally intrigued.
"This is a strange world, lad," Mimir whispered to Kratos as they began to eat, "but I think it might just be strange enough for us to fit in."
Kratos looked at Mimir and then at Hawk, Bethany, and their mother. "Perhaps," he conceded, "perhaps it is."
