Disclaimer I don't own Dragon Age or Star Wars
We return to the Dragon Wars Franchise continuing on from Rebellion as an alternate sequel to Force of others, as well as being a new starting point for some.
The events of Rebellion are summarised in this chapter. But the main summary of this series is as follows Taking place in an alternative universe after the Darkside ending of Knights of the Old Republic and the light side ending of Knight's 2, different eras of Star Wars are mashed together (a deliberate part of the plot as you'll see) with the Sith empire conquering the planet that is the world of Dragon Age.
But as the would be Grey Warden, his destiny altered because of the Sith conquest, will discover that these two galaxies are linked closer than first appears, drawing to a past long forgotten by the republic and the Sith.
Dragon Wars: Odyssey and Revolution
Episode 1: Gatherers in the dark
Deep within what the republic called the unknown regions was an empire. The Sith they were called, but the Sith itself was more than just an ideal or teachings of the dark side manifested. Many claimed the title of Darth, dark lord of the Sith, the world of Dromund Kaas, and the capital city Kaas. At the heart of the city was the imperial citadel, a great fortress where the dark council resided. Only it was not the dark council that would be attending to the citadel's visitors today. Red armoured guards were either side of the three visitors. The tall Muun at the centre wore armour and dark robes associated with the Sith, and he had considerable power. But Perrin Thrennhold was surprised to see the Muun's hands shake. This was the silver haired man's first time leaving the system his world occupied, and he understood it would probably be his last time there as well.
The trio came to a halt at a chamber and the red guards wordlessly extended their hands. Not even they would go into the chambers where the emperor resided. Perrin scoffed, emperor, such a title had been used on his world, yet even that did not truly encompass the power he suspected was contained within the academy. Or perhaps that truly was the case, just a powerful force used given a title, given the name emperor to appease him.
They did it on Perrin's home world, where magic filled the skies and could be controlled by the select few. The elves revelled in their magic and the advancements it gave them, immortal, they called themselves, magic made them kings, helped them to build nations and eventually they became as gods. But the truth they tried to bury with their victim complexes, blaming humanity's rise for their own civil war and the failure of their empire, their mythology hid the fact that they were beholden to the same desires and the same pride as the humans they despised and that despised them in turn. Then hundreds of years later, through what the humans called 'ages', new regimes were built but they all shared the common belief that magic had to be contained. Perrin's people built towers to imprison the mages, to bring them down with beliefs of charity and servitude, that their powers were meant to serve all whilst convincing them that freedom was a risk too great to take, they fed them, gave them an education and made them reliant on the towers and the chantry that dictated freedom, unless you didn't believe in their made up god enough.
Perrin would receive his answer when he would meet the true face of the empire, and the will behind it.
The three men, both of very different wills and strengths walked into the chamber, it was nearly pitch black save for the holograms. These holograms were star maps; Perrin studied a few in his time. He had to work twice as hard as any military recruit in order to become a captain. So he hit the firing range until the sword skills he had been taught as a child became secondary to how to use a blaster, stark contrast to what his children and grandchildren would do with their knowledge. And he combed records of the galaxy, its technologies, the worlds, even the republic that knew nothing of the true existence of the Sith. Perrin didn't recognise any of the charts, and he suspected from the way Augustus scrunched his face up that he knew nothing either. The prime minister stepped forward, puffing his chest out before he knelt to the floor. The Muun followed and Perrin hesitated, about to kneel when his limbs suddenly froze. He tried to move, but he could feel his bones grinding, his muscles fighting themselves. It even felt as if the very notion of moving was being taken from him.
He could only look ahead, at the shadowy figure standing by one of the star maps, raising a hand up to one of the dots, gazing at it for a moment. Suddenly Perrin was moving, faster than he ever thought possible, out of the atmosphere of the world, through space, stars and worlds rushing past him. His body felt numb, and when he was finally able to scream he slammed into dirt. He was finally kneeling and he looked up, seeing a lone man standing in white robes. When the man turned, Perrin saw that he was human, in his seventies as he was but in good physical condition. The man looked up at the sky as it began to rain, his hair untouched.
"Perrin Thrennhold, former Viscount of Kirkwall, a man who rebelled against the dominant power on his world until the Sith arrived, a man who embraced the change whilst others rejected it, abandoned by your favourite son, a traitor to your closest friend, risen to the rank of captain, granted admiralty of your planet's defence corps," the man explained.
His voice held the same majesty as a ruler. Yet there was a dark edge to it, an aggression that seemed balanced with a certainty of his superiority. This man did not wish Perrin ill will; he was beyond wishing Perrin anything.
"The rebellion was carried out during a time when you were beyond capable of doing anything to stop it, it was the officers already there that underestimated the drive of your people, dismissing them as primitives with bows and swords, but they adapted, and then there was the magic and their tactics too, knowing exactly how and when to strike," the emperor continued.
Perrin wanted to add more, more faults, such as Tarkin's idea to use Lyrium to build super lasers, destroying Ferelden and then the Dales. He wanted to mention the schemes of a Dark lord only aiding in the rising of the rebellion. But he dared not to speak, and for a moment he wondered if he wasn't answering back out of fear of the man's authority, or if his voice itself had been taken from him.
"You may speak," the emperor said.
"Where are we? Am I still in the throne room or have I truly been taken somewhere else?" Perrin asked, his throat didn't feel dry and for a moment he seemed to regain his confidence.
"There are things that can be done with the force that defy all comprehension, the force links many creatures, but there are some who reject that connection," the emperor explained.
"Much like your world once," he added, his eyes finally meeting Perrin's.
Yellow eyes, the eyes of a traditional Sith. But Perrin could see a red too, red eyes that were so similar to a boy he had once met on his world. A boy that Fausten Amell called grandson.
"Am I dead?"
"Of course not, come on, don't get lazy now mage!"
It was between Tython and Nal Hutta, approaching a blind spot on the frontier defence force's scanning grid. If the business of the 'Low Warbler' was more legal, they would have gone through customs like everyone else. The Corellian made YT-2000 light freighter was bought by the captain (if you could call him that) a human man who was actually from Canto Bight and dressed as such, a clean cut suit, well combed dark hair and a face that had had as much work done as the ship itself. Infidus Mercator was living out the dream of space travel and adventure, using his already sizable family fortune and connections to make more money off of illicit acts. He would have preferred a YT-1300 model, but was so inexperienced in ship design that he had been sold the similarly shaped 'Warbler' instead, the bridge canopy was sticking in the middle of the two pylons sticking out of the main saucer body.
Which the true captain and pilot of the vessel found to be a better defence than the YT-1300, but gave it worse blind spots. Still, Cid Alphus Doberman had a good forty years experience in flying ships, freighters, down to the fighters he piloted when he joined he republic navy as a pup. Red and white furred, he was a canine Shistavanen, wearing a blue uniform shirt and a brown leather coat, sported a few scars on his left brown and the bridge of his nose. His legs were the permanent reminder of his long service and the price of that service, his once curved legs were replaced with human shaped feet, robotic prosthetics. He looked out at space and discretely checked his chrono, something he had done so often on jobs that Infidus simply ignored him.
"Underdeveloped world-A term used to describe a planet and its people stuck in an archaic stage of their development," Infidus stated, sitting back on the co-pilot chair and trying to sound intelligent as he read from a data pad.
No one was impressed, not even the guards that had been on more jobs with Infidus than Cid had. Two Echani brothers that Cid had never learnt to tell apart, nor cared too. Infidus could even afford the services of a Mandalorian, one who wasn't part of the Pacifist, Deathwatch nor 'true Mandalorians', he was just a gun for the highest bidder. He was the only credible threat, a big guy with red and blue armoured plates across his chest, blue gauntlets, a silver jetpack and a customised silver helmet that had the standard T shaped visor most Mandalorians wore. Whilst the idiot brothers played cards, the Mando checked over his customised KYD-21 pistol (longer and narrower barrel than the standard, doubling as a silencer) and his Vibrosword. The Mando watched a member of the secondary staff Infidus had hired, medical techs specialised in Bacta treatment.
"Mr Mercator," the woman began.
"Captain Mercator my dear, captain," he corrected.
"Captain," she said uneasily. "We've applied sleep inducing chemicals into the tank, but the subject is slowly becoming more conscious," she explained and he laughed.
"Now that's a primitive for you, so wild that drugging them doesn't even work," he took out his own chrono, a holographic dial set into an overpriced silver case with a chain linking it to his pocket. "We're on a tight schedule, if he wakes up just use small words with him," he said.
"With respect boss, we found him on a ship that came out of hyperspace, there may have been archaic relics in the ship, but if he managed to get the hyperdrive working..."
"When the ship itself had been ripped open, so clearly not smart there," Infidus interrupted the Mando, who inserted the gas cartridge into his pistol, the hiss permeating through the ship.
"Desperate, never confuse desperation for stupidity boss," the Mando stood and walked towards the cargo bay.
As incompetent as Infidus was in some areas, he at least had right the transport of individuals. The Mandalorian never gave his name, but he told Cid that they had transported slaves in the past, quite often with the promise of taking them away to a new life. 'Give them a little slice of heaven' Infidus once boasted, good food, entertainment and hope that could easily be taken away. But there was no hope for the individual contained within the bacta tank, floating in the bubbling fluid, a thick mask wrapped around his mouth. He had the tipped the burnt remnants of some kind of robe, leaving more of a loin cloth to cover his dignity. The man was tall, but his skin was rough, a natural tan discoloured by some burns on his back, on his left arm and on the bridge of his nose. He had wild, almost like a mane of brown hair.
"This one did something very few can accomplish, but it was more than that I think," Mando said.
Infidus stood up, walking cockily to the bacta chamber, nodding to the 'nursing' staff (all ladies he had personally hired).
"Are you talking about the space magic, the good old force?" he asked with a scoff.
"It exists, not just what the Jedi are capable of, but there are groups of people who would amaze you with the things they can do," the mercenary said.
Cid heard them and he agreed. He had been there when the Star Forge wiped out most of Dodonna's fleet, when the lord of hunger Nihlus fed on a world, even the odd jobs he did for the republic's frontier defence force had led him to work with an individual one could describe as a 'wizard' more than even the Jedi. Cid looked out at space, checked his chrono again and adjusted the Warbler's speed, reducing it by a microsecond. The Mando raised his head, letting out a curious hum as he looked down the corridor to the bridge canopy.
Suddenly there was a bang against glass and Infidus yelped.
The grown man fell back into a sitting position, his slicked hair went rough and his earlier confidence was quickly abandoned. He looked at the man in the tank, whose hand was pressed against the glass. The man had his eyes open and seemed to be growling in the water. Infidus was frozen, entranced and terrified all at once by the orange glow in the palm of the man's hand and the slight shift in integrity of the glass. He was also drawn to the man's eyes, eyes that narrowed like the pupil of a beast.
Eyes that were blood red.
Volts of electricity ran through the tank, making the subject writhe inside it, screaming before he fell back into unconsciousness. The Mando was holding the controls for the chamber, managing the supply of bacta, the heat of the water and the mechanical arms inside, and an addition spared no expense by Infidus, the electrical generators used by the republic interrogators. Cid looked over his shoulder at the moment and stopped his shaking hand.
'Soon,' he thought.
"So it was the responsibility of Lord Kaius then?"
The question hung in the air and Moff Augustus Tarkin had to take a moment to think. He was suddenly addressing the emperor of the Sith, the emperor himself. Tempted to bow down, he maintained his military poise, looking at the man sitting atop the high throne, dressed in a majestic gold chest plate over his white uniform, shoulder pads decorated with military stars supported the long blue cloak he wore. His face was human, experienced and aged finely with neat dark hair that sported a handsome grey streak.
"Darth Kaius had taken to journeying to the Ferelden fiefdom, specifically the mage tower there, unlike Ladies Lumiya and Zannah he wished to gain an apprentice from the mage population, we can only speculate that like other lords he believed mages would make formidable acolytes," Tarkin explained.
"I see, and what did he find?" the emperor asked.
"A young mage by the name of Daylen Amell," Tarkin stated.
He took the hologram emitter from his pocket, showing his emperor the form of the trouble maker, he who would be hunted down and executed by the Sith. In his early twenties, the mage had tanned skin, wild and messy hair and he was tall for what could be found at the tower. The emperor leant forward on his throne, looking at the image.
"Kaius had reduced security in several sections, even outright killed mortar zones and pilots, he allowed our local representative King Cailan to host a celebration of the anniversary of the empire's arrival, bringing most of the Ferelden population out of there homes," Tarkin explained.
"The lowering of security, the distractions of a festival, all of these things contributed to a mass escape from the Ferelden circle, the mages then joined with local rebels correct?" the emperor asked and Tarkin nodded.
"Loghain Mac Tir, a 'hero' of their last rebellion against the Orlesian forces, he was joined by a representative of the rebel Chantry, to appease the population we allowed them to continue practicing their chant, with amendments portraying your will as the divine being the maker my lord, as well as their spiritual leaders being chosen by us. This allowed us to temper the faith of the population, to make the primitives controllable through their inferior intellects and imagination, but people like Loghain saw our technological gifts as chains whilst people in the rebel Chantry chose to cling to their delusions," Tarkin explained.
"Who was this representative?"
"Assassin, saboteur, messenger, she's many things to their leader, we have a physical description, a red haired woman of part Orlesian and Ferelden descent, and an alias Nightingale," Tarkin said.
"Still, this took considerable preparation," the emperor noted and Tarkin lowered his head.
"A boat captain had been delivering supplies through a port town, Amaranthine, we are aware of this Isabela, she has been of service on the seas before and I suspect this was simply a lap in judgement, her profile never indicated that she would have sympathy for rebels," he explained.
"You are so sure, other rebels, Marian Hawke, a Ferelden hunter and trouble maker whose brother was part of the troop tributes, Sebastian Vael, former brother of the chant, former prince of Starkhaven turned bounty hunter, Fenris, former slave of the Tevinter fiefdom upgraded with Lyrium implants, Varric Tethras, dwarven merchant and storyteller, Alistair, the bastard son of king Maric of Ferelden, former Knight-Trooper of the imperial army, Sten of the Berrassad, of the Qunari whom still defy us, Oghren, former husband of the now dead paragon Branka, Nathaniel Howe the son of one of our local loyalists Rendon Howe, Bethany Hawke, mage and sister of Marian, all brought together by the plans of Daylen Amell, word has reached me, the stories have reached me and this rebellion is growing Moff Tarkin and you blame a now dead Sith lord," the emperor's voice seemed to rise with anger, with intensity.
The very pressure of the room grew heavier, and Tarkin's legs shook.
Six days ago Meetra Surik, grandmaster of the Jedi order had contacted the four Jedi masters she had reformed the order with. Brianna had deployed in her Jedi Vector, alongside her apprentice Alia Stratos. The Togruta girl sat behind her master, the stars rushing by them both in the blue tunnel of the hyperspace lane. The former handmaiden of the Jedi historian, brief battle master and even briefer member of the Jedi council still possessed the energy and strength of her youth. She had aged gracefully in the years since the Jedi order was reformed. To a degree she had been as ignorant as her apprentice. Alia had six years in the order, being fourteen didn't make her the youngest padawan, but her awareness of the world was as great as Brianna's had been when she served the will of her mistress.
"Are we to engage them?" Alia asked.
"No, just observe," Brianna said.
"But won't they get away?" the girl asked.
"Sometimes you have to let your pray believe they are getting away, and then you strike," Brianna said.
It was a lesson from Mira, the former bounty hunter had her own set of apprentices, each one had become successful knights in their own right. Brianna however was new to teaching, she wanted a follower and a student, Alia wanted a mother figure. Coming out of hyperspace, Brianna adjusted the scanners and reached out through the force. As an Echani and duellist, she couldn't help but perceive the force as a duel in itself, with steps one had to take. Like combat, the force was constantly shifting, demanding careful discipline and practice too in order to respond appropriately. If one did not take the right step, then they had failed what the force demanded. But the force was also an ally, Brianna could feel a great scream of rage, a battle cry and then the fading of stillness.
"He's unconscious," she said.
She pushed a few buttons on her console, diverting power away from shields, away from her navigational instruments. But she didn't divert the power to speed, she didn't want a great build up of heat that could be picked up by scanners. Alia had seen the move done before, when tracking criminals and the odd Dark Jedi acolyte. She had been witness to two hunts, once with her master and a second time teamed with other Jedi and neither time had Alia fought the acolyte herself. The girl hadn't even built her own lightsaber yet. Brianna moved the fighter forward, performing minimal manoeuvres but keeping her flight path on an intercept course rather than a chasing course.
Their target was a YT-freighter, though Alia was not familiar with the different types. She knew the vector well enough, one of two experimental model fighters produced for the Jedi as a gift for their service. It was the last gift of the previous chancellor, before the reign of Gaian Valorum, he who was working to demilitarise the republic. Several worlds had already left the senate because of the demand to disarm alone. Valorum's Ruusan reformation was but one of many acts that were not well received by the citizens of the republic. This mission alone would be faced with scrutiny.
"Should we prepare weapons?" Alia asked.
"No need, hold on," Brianna closed her eyes briefly, snapping them open as Alia's finger hit the glass on the canopy.
"130 degrees to the left, there's a silhouette master, its a YT series," Alia said.
"A possible decoy," Brianna said.
She began putting in a frequency for her radio, waiting, the communication waves passing to a frequency specifically made for the cabal. On Coruscant there was the council that dealt with the public and senate, the Jedi that handled the everyday. Even Tython was in itself a front, Meetra herself the ultimate celebrity distraction. But she planned and formed the service corps, the cabal of masters, knights and their students investigating and preparing anything that would prove to the republic that there was an ultimate enemy out there, the Sith empire. An hour's flight away from the vector was a pair of Jedi Delta fighters, one blue and the other red. One solo piloted by one of the best pilots in the order, Jedi master Plo Koon, the grey one was piloted by his apprentice Bultar Swan.
"Master Plo, we have visual confirmation on a YT series freighter a few clicks ahead of us," Brianna reported.
"Affirmative, we have another YT freighter, forty degrees to our right and five minutes out," Plo's voice was deep even without radio distortion, like any Keldor he wore a breather mask that also enabled him to speak and process oxygen.
"Contacting master Mical," Bultar said.
"Check, this is master Mical, we have an ion trail, but something is amiss, the trail is too obvious," the greying blonde haired man said.
Again he was miles away, but not with an apprentice but he shared a Delta with a knight, a light skinned Arkanian hybrid by he name of Eden Carrick. Flying beside them was the Headhunter used by another knight, Caleb Dune and his apprentice Ezra.
"I know a trick when I see one," the Lothal born boy said.
"Carry out visual confirmation of the YT type, they may not have been able to get all of the same type of ship," Eden said.
"I concur, everyone, intercept the ships and confirm as many details as you can," Mical said.
One by one the groups moved in unison, like the partners in a duel, following the movements of their opponents and getting in close.
"It isn't even a YT freighter, confirmed, it isn't the target," Swan said.
"Ours is booking it, but we've confirmed its a different model number," Caleb said.
"We'll converge on your location Master Brianna," said Mical.
"No, follow the path, not us, we don't want this to become a chase," Brianna said.
"Its already a chase," a voice suddenly came through the radio, leading Brianna to groan.
"Damn it," she heard Dune say.
A grey Delta had come out of hyperspace and was moving like a projectile at a fourth potential target. Inside of that fighter craft was a Miraluka Jedi, a man in a black hooded robe with a bandanna over his eyes. Underneath the mask you would see no eyes, as was the physical appearance of a Miraluka. He was far from blind though, but still required his T3 unit to navigate. A series of beeps came through his radio, signals from the silver droid.
"Just keep us steady T3, this is Jacen Marr, I'm already in pursuit, closing in, this is the one, I can feel it," the young man had his arms crossed, leaving the control of the fighter to his droid friend.
Brianna nearly tutted, the Jedi was the nephew of Meetra Surik, the son of Visas Marr and Brianna's former apprentice. He was great with his martial arts techniques, but undisciplined and passionate, lax with the practice of offensive and buffing force techniques, but incredible when it came to methods of detection through the force. If Jacen said he found the ship they were looking for, then he most certainly had found the ship they were looking for.
Unfortunately something else had found them too.
"Something else has come out of hyper space," her padawan said.
"So you finally disposed of Tenebrous?"
The Muun, like his fellow servants of the empire blinked in confusion. Hego Damask considered himself someone of decent intellect, he ran Damask holdings, had studied a multitude of fields in genetics including engineering, cloning and medicine. But he was a servant of another great force in the galaxy, the dark side. As Darth Plagueis he carried out experiments with Midichlorians, the symbiotes long believed to be the source of the force and did his part in the grand plan of the Sith, the eradication of the Jedi and the domination of the light. He looked up at a fellow Sith lord, the emperor, just a pale man in a hooded robe.
"Yes my lord, as is our way when surpassing our masters," he said, after clearing his throat.
He knew that the emperor could sense his fear, but he felt no shame in it. Perhaps more than the other men he understood that they could only see the emperor in ways they could understand his power. For Perrin, a majestic mage king, for Tarkin a military officer and even Plagueis could see a man in Sith robes when the truth was that he was so much more.
"You utilised an attack carried out by the rebels," the emperor pointed out.
"Yes, they used a spell that Daylen Amell also used in battle with golems, through the use of lyrium shards they created a construct of mana, a type of mechanised avatar," Plagueis explained.
"And did you have any idea that magic could be used in such a way?" the emperor asked.
"No my lord I did not, I had studied mages, their mana is in a sense a form of stamina, there are certain genetic markers quite common, much like any genetic trait it can be inherited or lay dormant for generations. Spirit, Creation, Entropy, Primal, these are the central schools of magic taught to the mages but there exists others, such as blood magic, spells can be fuelled through the blood, it also makes it possible for one to interact more intimately with the fade, allowing one to take command of or be taken over by a demonic spirit, of which there exists a multitude, a hierarchy of sorts with Pride being believed the most powerful," Plagueis explained.
"An appropriate assumption, as pride does come before a fall doesn't it Plagueis?"
"Tenebrous had pride, in his Bith science, in his ideas for the future, he wished to create a virus once," Plagueis said.
"How fortunate that his master convinced him otherwise," the emperor said.
"They wasted many years designing such a thing that would only endanger our own connection to the force," Plagueis nodded his head.
The emperor smiled, something that took Plagueis aback.
"Not the Twi'lek, but his true master, yours as well," he said.
"Tenebrous was my master, the dark side too, though like any Sith I seek to control it and wield it, to break my chains," Plagueis said but still the emperor smiled.
"I can see through you, to the plots of your inner circle, your plan for the empire alongside your master, the Sith lord who recently engaged one of Revan's disciples in combat," the emperor stated.
The Muun just nodded his head, putting on a smile of his own.
"I am a traitor, but in a sense that is the way of the Sith is it not?" he asked.
"Even though your master seeks to change the way of the Sith?" the emperor asked.
"His plans mean nothing to me, not really, it is immortality I seek, not just an eternal body, but to create an eternal regime. Only his power interests me, only what I can gain through alliance, manipulations and temporary partnerships," Plagueis explained.
"You admit this to me, you admit that you work against the current empire, that you work alongside an enemy of mine who seeks also to plot with fellow rebels across our empire, you also admit to having no loyalty to him, only to your own vision…this tells me that you are untrustworthy, so tell me Darth Plagueis…why shouldn't I kill you here?" the emperor's eyes narrowed and suddenly two burning slits appeared behind him, the entire room going dark.
And Plagueis felt the heat of those flames, he felt true agony.
He was in pain, he felt sad, he didn't understand why? The tower, was he back in the tower, he wondered, awaiting his harrowing. Was this his origin, surrounded by strangers, the vessel shaking, the strangers yelling amongst themselves. He pressed his hand against the glass again and again felt the agony of volts running through his blood stream. But he endured, the pain, the confusion, drawing on a moment from a teacher. The water became green flames and he suddenly found himself standing on a stone floor, floating amongst an abyss with no stars. Because of this emptiness, he looked ahead at a table that seemed out of place in the nothingness. Suddenly, with a flicker of smoke a man walked to the table, looking over the shoulder of a brown haired boy. The man had kind but tired looking eyes, an unkempt beard and long hair and he wore thick green robes with a grey hood and shoulder pads.
"That's very good Daylen, is that from memory?" the man asked.
"I can't explain it Irving, I've always just been able to remember things that I see, like going back to it," the boy stated and Irving nodded proudly.
"I believe our esteemed patrons have provided the name of that term, a 'photo' graphic memory, truly good Daylen," Irving said.
"It won't do me much good if I can't use it to get better with my spell craft, either I'm too hot with fire or I just make sparkles with lighting," the boy, Daylen said.
"Our patrons maybe after powerful mages, but his place still stands even after a whole generation of them occupying our world. They maybe the masters of our world, our new rulers, they may even surpass the will and purpose of the maker. But this place still stands Daylen as a place to teach young mages like yourself at the most how to control themselves and how to resist the temptations of demons," Irving explained.
"But Irving, I've heard some of the acolytes, they talk about he dark side, the temptations there and that's what the Sith are all about right? The Sith wouldn't let us learn to resist anything would they?" Daylen asked.
Irving chuckled despite the statement.
"Oh my boy you really are too smart for your own good, yes, we are becoming pawns of the Sith, perhaps we've always been chained by something. Regardless of where our loyalties lie, my duty Daylen Amell, is to teach you to at least master yourself, your magic will come naturally after that I promise you, so long as you hold true to yourself Daylen," suddenly Irving turned.
The senior Enchanter looked straight at him, tears close to forming in his eyes.
"Daylen, promise me Daylen, promise me you'll stay strong!"
There were several puffs of smoke, armoured figures holding Irving by his arms, forcing him to his knees. The table faded and a cloaked figure emerged, his face was red with tendrils on his chin and brow. He was holding a branding iron in his hand, one that glowed with blue fire and seemed to echo as the cloaked creature raised it to Irving's face.
"Farewell to dreams," he said.
He then let out a laugh and slammed it into Irving's forehead, burning him, the blue fired seemed to slip through Irving's skin and made his scream echo as if hundreds within him were dying. Daylen moved forward, but it was too late, the brand was withdrawn and the sun shaped brand covered Irving's forehead. The old man raised his head and didn't seem to be bothered by the blistering pain, in fact there were no emotions in his eyes at all. Daylen remembered a word, tranquil, and he remembered what it was to become one. To lose your magic, to lose your dreams and to lose your emotions. He trembled and began to breathe heavily, panicking, electricity crackling around him until suddenly:
"NO!" he roared, fire blazing around him..
His red eyes snapped open and he threw his arm forward. There was a wave of sizzling fire through the water that surrounded him, blowing open the chamber he had been trapped in. The hatch was sent flying over a group of rocks, wet grey stones surrounded by greenery. His bare feet made contact with the ground, mud squelched between his toes. He sunk for a moment before he stumbled, the one hand he had stopping his fall completely. There was a puddle in front of him, dirty but clear enough for him to make out that he was years older than the boy he had seen in the fade. Scarred from a burn across the bridge of his nose, cuts on his brow and cheek and a scar over his left eye. He pulled off the mask over his mouth, gagging as he withdrew a long hose from his mouth. Coughing, he distracted himself from the pain in his throat with the images he had seen in the fade.
The fade, the dream world of his people had recreated a moment from his memory. He was Daylen Amell, he was a mage of the circle tower in Ferelden, apprentice to Irving. But there were things missing, the red eyed man took a few more steps before he looked up at the sky. Again he was taken aback by the sight of two moons in the sky. Suddenly feeling hot from the tropical environment, he stumbled back and lowered his gaze. His eyes met a person standing on one of the rocks. Daylen narrowed his eyes in fury.
The new arrival was holding a gold bow of some kind; bands of gold were wrapped around his arms. He wore brown trousers with sandals, the belt he wore had gold armour plates dangling over his things and though he was largely shirtless he wore a gold collar that covered his shoulders and upper chest. The hunter had brown hair, red skin and tendrils on his chin.
"Sith," Daylen snarled.
Fire crackled around his arm and he began to stretch it when he heard a voice.
"Daylen wait," a young man's voice, familiar, it made him happy and sad.
The voice made him hesitate, but it was the surprise of the hunter that made Daylen stop. Pureblooded Sith they were called, but they were only a small part of the Sith that had conquered his world and enslaved his people. They were cruel and unforgiving, sooner to shoot first and ask questions later.
And he had to be better than that.
He lowered his hand, the fire fading as he looked towards the pureblood. An eerie calm settled between them before the pureblood raised his hand. Energy suddenly appeared where there was no string on the bow, forming the wire and the bolt that the hunter knocked back. Then he released the purple bolt, which flew past Daylen's cheek and struck hard a target that screamed. Daylen turned and saw the target fall to the ground with his weapon. The dead man was in a black suit with silver armour, which as well as having a smoking hole on the chest also covered the man's face with a gold visor on his helmet.
"Actually, apparently they are Sith," the pureblood spoke Daylen's language and seemed to have a smirk on his face. "Welcome to Nyashquwai, stranger from the sky!"
Daylen's eyesight blurred and he fell back, he couldn't see, but he could hear multiple voices again.
"I can't believe he passed out!"
"Oh you can hardly blame him, it is hot around here!"
"You're alive Daylen, which means there is hope, rest now my friend."
Next Episode 2: No more
Our first chapter closes with an explanation behind the scenes.
The Mandalorian: He has a look inspired by Peacemaker-whom had a counterpart inspired by Boba Fett. But he isn't just a homage, there's far more to his character than a hired gun.
Cid: Named after numerous characters of another famous RPG series :), I went with Shistavanen as the species as an homage to Star Fox as he becomes one of Daylen's first companions a reference too to the Mabari war hound.
The meeting with the Sith emperor: I take three characters, a prominent Sith Lord in Darth Plagueis, a native to Thedas in Perrin and a Sith officer in Tarkin and their unique viewpoints, pitting them against the emperor in a way. In this, I went down to the original plan of what would have been the third Knights game, at least in terms of the structure of the Sith empire. The emperor is still Vitiate but there are different versions of him depending on a 'certain point of view'. Which I wanted to explore with these opening chapters and his interactions with the three characters.
Daylen Amell: I always liked the human mage origin (love the Dalish elf origin too) because of its connectivity with the Hawke family in Dragon Age 2. The opening chapter was to inform you all on how he came to be here, whilst still leaving some mystery behind his arrival (don't worry, this isn't a 'somehow' scenario). For his look I reduced him to this barbarian style as that's what Thedas would be to a Star Wars galaxy, at least for now.
Hope everyone has enjoyed these first few chapters I've posted.