Oliver

He had been home for two weeks at this point. Finding reasons to sneak out in the middle of the night and patrol the streets. It was one of the good things about his home it was ironically centrally located right on the edge of the Western Slums and then the docks on the one side of the Nocen Sea. This let him break up multiple crimes at this point around Minrathous. The beginning of him establishing his presence and setting him up as a advocate for the good while the guards and the Templars looked the other way.

The only down side was that his home was still in the rich part of town and thus it was a bit of a hike. And while the guards may've taken the night off...his family's staff didn't.

One night while sneaking out with two travel bags one of the 'knife eared' 'servants' caught him while she was out dusting the statue of the family's progenitors.

While she quickly down cast her eyes to avoid looking at him, she still questioned what the master was doing up at that late hour and if she could do anything to assist him.

Quick thinking defused the situation.

The other piece of luck was that the Magisterium hadn't called on him yet. He suspected it was about as much about letting someone without a drop of real magical talent into their august body as it was sympathy for his loss.

Nevertheless they wouldn't wait forever to call on him. Both of these facts proved that if he was serious about doing this he needed a separate base of operations. He knew he'd have to do so eventually, it was a logical thought as he rode in from the front lines around Vyrantium, but he had been away from Minrathous for so long that he had little idea about the current layout.

Looking through his family's ledgers gave him a few ideas...

Which brings me here...

The warehouse along the docks were darkened at night. Abandoned by his family six months ago as they had fallen on rough times in the wake of the continuing Qunari blockade.

Debris and refuse littered the ground, a hole in the ceiling halfway down showed the stars twinkling above.

Yet it had promise. Places where he could set up racks, archery butts, places to build arrows, and yet more to exercise. It being abandoned would also give him some coverage from the people around him.

Though while he couldn't quite put his fingers on it something seemed a bit out of place. While it was obviously abandoned for some reason it didn't look as abandoned as it should have been, signs that someone had been here and set up their own operation was subtly in the way the debris had been gathered. Though whoever it was had also clearly abandoned the place.

At least they gave me a head start on cleaning this place up.

Still the one bad thing about this is he needed to take more work to assemble what he needed to do his job. More time away from home where he risked discovery. His mind had worked on the problem, considered the permutation as he considered how he would bring the fight to the Venatori, the corrupt Magisters, and save his country on the way home, even before.

Yet now he was faced with the possibility of having to not only do the hard work but also ensure that his secret stayed safe for if anyone found out it was him, it would bring pain to him and his entire family.

And they are innocent in this.

Yet he knew that no one would take up this cause in the Magisterium, the guards, the Templars, the military. Even the forces in the Imperial Government which claimed to be against the Venatori hadn't moved a finger to truly help.

Though he knew he wasn't going to be like the other groups. He still knew that the Imperium was worth saving. They had kept the Qunari at bay for centuries while the Southern Nations bickered and enjoyed their comforts. He knew that they had brought civilization to Thedas. They always had their issues, but he didn't want to destroy the Imperium for them, he wanted to save it.

While his soul committed himself to his crusade his mind worked on the problem. How he would go about changing this warehouse into something usable.

Places to set up archery butts and exercise equipment. Work benches to keep his blades sharp and to make more of his own arrows.

I am not getting a lot of sleep any time soon? Hmm the Magisterium won't be happy to see me tired but then they will have to deal.

With that decided he began moving stuff around the complex. Moving the debris to one style. At least his family connections meant he should be able to have resources he'd need and procure them without drawing too many hobbies.

Everyone says that Magisters always have their eccentricities.

While he moved a rock into position, the base for a archery butt with some wood stuffed into a corner he idly wondered if he needed to acquire help on his crusade. Another person could give him the coverage he needed, someone to help him keep an eye on patrolling the city and let him continue his upcoming role in government, another pair of hands to help him build this place.

And yet who do I trust?

A sound on the wind made his head shoot up and his arms flex into a defensive position.

Then nothing for a long minute.

Did I hear that right? Was that a scream?

A second later and still nothing.

Then "someone help me!"

His bow almost automatically came to hand as he glared out through the closed door, trying to scan it for signs of any threat.

That sounded like a woman's voice.

"No! Someone help me!"

It sounded closer now, clearer. Either he had trained himself to look out for it, the woman was bellowing her lungs out, or she had managed to escape her captors for a time.

Still he had no time to waste.

He sprung into action, grabbing his quiver and slinging it over his back as he rushed out the front door closing it with a bang.

Another scream, this one more despairing and animalistic, his head whipped around to the north side of the street. His eyes scanned the roof tops.

With the buildings so tight in against one another he could get the high ground as he ran from rooftop to rooftop.

He knew he had to be close though and the screams, getting more throaty by the second, still enough to home in on her like a beacon.

Soon other sounds joined the mix, the laughing of a pair of men. By this time the woman sounded like she was groaning.

Then he saw it. Someone had placed a torch in the center of the cobblestone streets which served like a further beacon. Two large men stood over the prone form of a woman laying on the ground, covering herself with her hands.

"How much of a rest should we give her before I get a turn?" the brute on the left leered.

"I don't know, shouldn't be too much longer before you're ready."

She whimpered, "please."

Oliver with his hood up maintained his position, rage and despair made his stomach tight but he knew he had to be patient. His training in the scout core demanded him to canvass an area. While these two brutes wouldn't necessarily be as well trained as the forces of the Antaam he shouldn't overestimate them. If they had another scout somewhere on the roofs watching their back...then he could be just as dead.

Even from his position the fire light wasn't even doing wonders for his night vision, scanning the roof and the surroundings a good three times he could not see anyone.

"Alright man, lets get this over with, who knows before someone will here her mewling."

An idea occurred to him as he watched them move forward.

He couldn't risk giving himself away, he wouldn't do himself any good, but they were also distracted.

Taking a moment he leapt down on a stone work one floor below before landing on the ground and then leaping aside into cover.

"What's that?"

His heart pounded as he waited.

"Come on you loosing your nerve?" The other one sneered.

"Lets get this over with, this is starting to creep me out."

He rushed forward, his footsteps quiet but gathering rapidly as the second man started to mount the writhing mass of flesh.

"Huh?"

But now it was too late as knife in hand he jammed it into the first one's back causing him to yelp out in sudden pain before he slashed across his neck finishing him off.

"No!" His compatriot screamed "You'll pay!"

It took him a moment to get up while he was entangled in his clothes as he came at him drunkenly.

Oh will I?

Yet he still was out of practice for a second as the man came in a wide stance. He gave him a chop to a neck buying him time, just serving to enrage his opponent more.

"You'll die for that whoreson!"

But with that he ripped his arrow out of its quiver and fired it point blank at him, putting it through his neck. He gurgled as he grabbed for the shaft, but toppled over backwards.

He turned around, he knew his black leathers and hood probably cut an imposing figure.

The woman looked up at him and whimpered.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you." He growled.

"W-who are you?"

"Just call me the Silver Rook." He grunted. "Will you be OK going home on your own?"

She nodded slowly, "I think so."

He returned the nod before stalking off without another word.