Trials of Faith (Dragon Age II)(NSW/PG-13)[[ON HOLD]]

[Pinckz]

((Holy Revival Batman!!))

 

((As you may notice, my story here was horrendously cut off. The actual story part in fact, seems to be missing. So, instead of editing my original post, I am going to ask the mods to delete all of the posts with just, "_" in them and try to re-invigorate my reader base. I plan on doing this by 1) actually producing work, and 2) by re-posting this and putting my story on the "top of the stack," as it were. ))

 

Title: Trials of Faith

Rating: PG-13 (over 13) / M15 (over 15).

Rated for: (Possible graphic violence, and sexual leanings. Nothing explicit, but enough to be cautious.)

Critique level: [CRITIQUE ENCOURAGED]

Franchise: Dragon Age II

 

Disclaimer: If you are reading this Fan Fic, you are doing it in full knowledge that there are or might be game spoilers in it. If you are planning on playing Dragon Age Origins (or any of its DLC) and/or Dragon Age II in the future, or have any other sensitivities toward spoilers I don't want to discourage you, but I recommend not reading much further than this disclaimer. Also, there may be some mild sexual content (words, innuendos and the like... Nothing too bad, but be forewarned.)

 

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Key things you need to know ---> (I will do my best in these descriptions and the story to not give away the order of events and or specific things that might spoil the storyline of either the game or this FanFic, but it will be incredibly hard as the story progresses, so If you find a spoiler, there is a disclaimer above. I would love for everyone to read this, which is why I am providing info for those who haven't played, but I don't want to piss people off by not warning them about spoilers. )

 

((For those of you who have played Dragon Age II feel free to proceed to the Story that proceeds after the 'definitions' unless you wish to peruse what I wrote and/or comment on anything I missed. ))

 

First off: This is an epilogue to the main story, one that will continue for a bit. Varric had been taken into custody by the Seeker of the Divine and has just spent a very long time talking to her about the champion, essentially describing all seven years that Hawke spent in Kirkwall before the conflict exploded. Then all of these events in my FanFic proceed afterward.

 

Kirkwall: A city located in the Free Marches which is a region to the north of Ferelden ((the country or region which is the main focus of Dragon Age Origins and where the most recent blight was vanquished.)) across the Waking Sea. It used to be a slave city back in the day for elves (who have been characteristically mistreated for centuries past the fall of Arlathan, a once great elven city) and in the years of Hawke's ascension was a particular hotspot for Templar brutality. There are sections of the town which are set aside clearly for each 'class' within Kirwall's community. Hightown is for the higher class, each house is made of a whiter stone and are typically the size of mansions instead of small little apartments. The structures are very large and very expensive; this is part of town where the chantry and the Palace sit (to be explained later). Lowtown is the town for the lower class with lower grade sandstone, rags and beggars along with apartments and smaller housing. It is also the location of 'The Hanged Man' and the 'Elven Alienage' (a township that serves as a central area for elves to live segregated from the Humans in big cities, although they are considered 'free' from them, they are kept by the humans, in a low class colony. Darktown is worse than Lowtown and essentially serves as the pit of no return for any of the poverty stricken individuals in Kirkwall. Once you get to Darktown, you are essentially stuck there unless you can find better work. The Docks are, as you would've guessed, a place where ships can dock and leave once either their cargo is loaded or their cargo is taken, etc. The district is full of warehouses used for the purpose of these transactions and for storage. The Gallows is a large tower based structure that lays on a small island only a small ride from The Docks where they used to keep the elven slaves in olden days. There are golden statues of slaves attached to the walls (even though there aren't many statues now) and there is an overall sense of macabre foreboding in the air for anyone who passes through and sees the dried blood on the chains hanging from walkways and walls. The Gallows is also the previous location of Kirkwall's Circle, giving you somewhat of an idea as to how brutal the Templars were when they kept the Mages in a place that was meant for Elven slaves.

 

The Hanged Man: Is the only tavern in Kirkwall, balanced in roughly the center of Lowtown. It isn't the most sanitary thing in the world, but it will get you a sight more drunk than any other establishment in Kirkwall. It is Varric's base of operations and it is where Hawke is currently staying.

Hawke's Estate: Formerly the property of the Amell lineage, it was taken through a course of brash action and irresponsible money management. That was of course until Hawke came and took care of the evil proprietors that had moved in. Later Hawke bought it with the earnings from a profitable expedition and stabilized the Amell lineage once more, or so she thought. It is now in the hands of the Chantry and all the former residents were forced to vacate. Sandal went off to Orlais with his father, hence the lack of enchantment and Hawke's dog was sent away to join Aveline in her efforts with the city guard (another something to be explained later.)

 

Hawke: The champion of Kirkwall. Hawke was forced to move across the sea as a refugee and make a name for herself as the Champion of Kirkwall through the solutions that he/she implemented to several big issues that the town of Kirkwall was held victim to. Several of these choices have to do with conflicts between a particular member of the Templar Order and the entirety of the Circle in Kirkwall. (Hawke is the main character of Dragon Age II and your game play determines what type of champion she/he'll be.)

 

Varric: a dwarf that comes from House Tethras (a family of dwarves from the dwarven city of Orzammar) and is a rogue. He is the youngest son of the Tethras family while his older brother (Bartrand) is the head and runs the family business. On the outside, he is seen as the idle younger brother who spends his time in taverns telling wild stories while people buy him drinks. His real job is to maintain a "spy network" with contacts to deal with various troubles that come along with being in a family that is part of the Dwarven Merchant Guild (that, now that his brother is being held in a mental institution, dog him at every turn to pay his dues and make appearances.)

 

A Nug: A pig-like creature that resides in the Deep Roads and as such is a staple in dwarven sport, food, and general culture. (The Dwarven city of Orzammar is located in the Deep roads.)

The Deep Roads: An underground series of huge tunnels that are littered with Dwarven thaigs (or townships/settlements). The Dwarven city used to be really large and splintered its way all the way through the tunnels, but now all of them are mostly abandoned with only Orzammar being the most well-known of the thaigs that are still around. These underground tunnels are also where the Blights originate. When the darkspawn (corrupted monsters, remnants of a curse caused by the negligence of man in the Maker's sight.) dig so far that they find the spirit of an old god resting in the earth, one of their number is possessed and turned into the 'arch demon and said arch demon leads the hordes of darkspawn to the surface.

 

Chantry: a faction of individuals that interacts with the world like our churches did back in the day. The notable individuals in it, including the grand cleric, all believe in one creator, simply called 'The Maker'. They offer bulletins on boards outside their churches, featuring jobs that need to be accomplished around the town or further out, depending on their placement and particular needs of the people. Members of the Chantry stand outside constantly feeding the public a chant of the Maker's philosophy both denoting the truth of their faith and pursuing an effort to convince and convert people to the Maker's will.

 

Qunari: A race of large, militaristic, demon-like creatures with grey skin. They praise the virtues of certainty and anything uncertain or unknown is likely to push their buttons. They are very quick to temper especially with communities that they think are corrupted. (Think militaristic Japanese back in the day, or in some senses Mandalorians. Only they are big gray horned beings with thick skin that stand at about 7 feet tall on average. To put it into perspective, the Arishock, the Qunari leader, held two two handed weapons like they were nothing.)

 

Templars: Templars are soldiers meant to guard over the Circle, an organization of mages, in an attempt to reign in and control the possibility of an irrational or destructive uprising. They are a subsect of the Chantry and as such they answer to the will of the grand cleric. They are treated to small amounts of lyrium to induce an acclimation to magic and build up a resistance to it. (Lyrium -- an ore that is used in varying forms as a conduit for magical energy and although it can draw magic through channels that only mages can really understand, it can also be seen in Thedas culture as an addictive substance working against the will of the Templars, because of its fade-like qualities.) The reason that Templars guard Mages and hunt them down should they leave their watch, is because magic is seen as a corrupt tool to the Chantry. "Magic is meant to serve man, not rule over him."

 

Meredith: The Knight Commander ('leader') of the templars of Kirkwall during the time of Hakwe's ascension to champion.

 

Mages: Mages have been used time and time again, but the Mages in this universe, are held in structures of varying shapes and sizes in order to maintain a constant watch over them. This organization of Mages under one roof is typically referred to as a 'Circle' and each region or big city is known to have at least one Circle and one Chantry chapter. These magic wielders use either the blood of their own body (or other's bodies) or lyrium to fuel their magical spells and depending on their usage of blood, it makes them more vulnerable to corruption and more susceptible to Templar brutality. Mages are particularly sensitive to the Fade, a dream world that is connected to all of Thedas through their dreams. In this dream world lay a multitude of corrupt demons that, through the right channels, target helpless Mages and possess them. They take desperate Mages who cling to magic for their protection and offer them power and security by emphasizing wants that are characteristic with the seven sins. There are however, virtuous spirits. These are spirits that epitomize the virtues of humanity, but are in a far less supply because they have given up on the corruption int he world and have no desire to come to the surface.

Orsino: The first Enchanter (or 'leader') of the Circle mages in the Kirkwall Circle during the time of Hakwe's ascension to champion.

 

Anders: A former possessed (possessed by a spirit of justice -- a previous Dragon Age character that came to the waking world through an odd sort of accident) mage companion to Hawke that committed a severe crime against the chantry, which resulted only to further push a catalyst of magical anarchy. Hawke chose to murder him after the fact and had no idea he was planning it at all.

 

The Divine: Essentially the base of ops for the chantry. It is the largest and most dignified chapter of the chantry located in Orlais and it is where the 'Divine' sits. She is essentially the leader of the entire faction as opposed to the individual grand clerics from any other Chantry Chapters. She can issue regiment of troops to purge the land of usurpers to the Maker's will in order to preserve the greater good.

 

"Quote from Wiki --- The Divine is the leader of the Chantry organization at large, based out of the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. The Divine of the Chantry is always... female..." (more than likely because the iconic former bride to The Maker, who was consequently also one of the ones most devoted to his cause, was a prophet called Andraste.)

 

The Seeker: An agent sent by the divine to reveal the location of not only the Grey Warden (the hero of Ferelden that you play in the first game), but the Hero of Kirkwall in the hopes that either or both of them would help stop the crisis of Mage and Templar aggression between themselves and the Chantry. It is still vague as to where the Divine wishes to take the crisis or what she wants to do, but she has already sent troops into Kirkwall, in what I could only fathom is a way to quell the resistance there.

 

 
 

 

 

 

_____________________________________________ [[[ STORY ]]] _____________________________________________

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1: (Part 1) Where were we?

 

- - "When the whole world is on the brink of destruction, which way is the right one?"

 

 

“Just tell me one thing then,” the Divine Seeker asked, the depths of her dark brown eyes pulling every heart string they could, under the veil of even darker eyebrows, “Is the champion dead?” Her gaze was jarring, but honed with a sense of desperation accenting her dictation.

 

Varric looked at her for a moment and silently read the play before composing himself and looking at her with as honest an expression as he could muster, shaking his head and letting himself grin a little in the memory of his friend and companion. “Oh, I doubt that.”

 

The Seeker seemed to sigh without actually letting her form sag and looked back toward Varric, resignation in her expression, the weariness of broken conviction resting on her shoulders. "Then you are free to go Varric. May the Maker watch over you during the dark times ahead of us," she said, offering the blessing in recompense to the dwarf’s supposed forthrightness in his story and cooperation throughout the entire encounter. She slowly turned and walked away, a few lingering doubts in her mind that she disregarded. They wouldn’t get her any further towards finding what she needed.

 

Varric shook his head, but offered a soft reply. “Same to you, Seeker, same to you.”

 

The words were wasted however, for the Seeker had already left the room. Varric’s characteristically grizzled voice continued to permeate the silent tones of the Hawke estate for a moment or two more though, chasing the Divine's hand and her guard as they left the building and stumbled into the night streets of Hightown, a sense of solemnity consuming their ceremonial gait.

 

Reflecting on the issue over all as the weighty band of religious folk left, Varric knew how bad the crisis was, but the situation wasn’t one that Varric prized keeping a keen knowledge of. He was never really a fan of taking sides and the roads to show support for each side, the Mages or the Templars, were both particularly taxing. It wasn’t an issue on how beneficial either side would be, and Varric wasn’t sure that either would be particularly profitable. No, it was that if he chose a side like so many did before him, he would immediately have to sever all ties to the other. It was a complexity that he had to bear sometimes though, most notably in the last few years. After all, Kirkwall, his home, had been the source of repeated turmoil for almost a decade now, which often hinged on the entire Templar versus Mage debate. So even though the whole of Thedas was erupting in a flame of heated magical rebellion at the behest of a stupid mage’s cataclysmic mistake, he still needed to help bring everything back together; if not for him, then for Hawke. It was either that or run from the problem completely, and even if keeping track of it all was about half as crazy as actually facing down the merchant guild that still haunted his waking hours, he figured solving the issue would invariably be the better alternative.

 

"That blighted Anders! Scruffy nug humping, dress wearing..." Varric grumbled under his breath, still seated in the same chair he was shoved into when the Seeker sought his counsel. "And out of all of Hawke’s chairs, she had to stuff me in this one. Maker, I feel like I could get stuck this way if I sat for very much longer." Varric shuffled a little bit back and forth testing his seat and realized he couldn’t feel his legs or his arms. "On second thought, I might be stuck right now," he observed, persistently trying to wriggle himself out of the chair with little success.

 

“A little help, Hawke?” Varric asked the darkness after a few minutes of unsuccessful wriggling, with utmost confidence that the shadows would answer back. Had the Seeker still been here, this particular tactic would have drawn suspicion and ire, but as the dwarf continued pushing himself from side to side with the only parts of body he could feel, it just seemed rather odd. For a moment or two it even seemed to escalate in oddity as his words were thrown into the shadow with little reciprocation, but moments after the last word he spoke fell to the floor, an obscured female form emerged from the shadows, landing a particularly tender kiss on Varric’s cheek.

 

“No,” the shadow chuckled lightly, "I want to watch you do it."

 

“Oh har har har, very funny,” Varric replied sardonically, smirking back at the shadow with little care for its attempts at humor. He continued trying to move out of the incredibly uncomfortable stone chair, but he struggled against dead legs that refused to move and dead arms that refused to make them move.

 

“Oh you know I’m kidding,” the shadow added playfully, lending a phantom hand to the dwarf where he sat, stabilizing him enough to get out of the chair and stretch his legs a little. Varric’s form began to shamble off the chair in response to the kind gesture and even though he was well on his way to the intended comfortable position that his body required, his balance was still tested. Varric’s short concentration of mass, held on small wobbly knees, was falling quickly toward the ground and was closing the distance with frightening speed when a phantom pair of hands quickly shot from the darkness, holding his torso aloft long enough for the dwarf to regain his balance and gain some sort of structured stagger.

 

"You do know that the Divine’s agents are gone now right?" Varric asked pointedly, still trying to manage his balance, but managing to look straight at the shadow’s blurry feminine form. "You don’t have to hide anymore."

 

The shadow sighed a little, moving nervously from side to side on the balls of her feet before acquiescing to Varric’s suggestion and slowly revealing more of her form to the darkened hall of her estate. It was a practiced process and as such had much intention in its duration, but slowly the shadow started to melt, relinquishing long black curly locks that poured through the misty darkness and piercing blue eyes whose brilliance the shadow form had to work hard to conceal. Hawke’s pale skin, equaled only by the moonlight illuminating the otherwise dimly lit room, was revealed slowly like glowing marble, statuesque in its immaculate beauty. Her armor, a mixture of charcoal gray plates and red leather signifying her role as Kirkwall’s great champion, began to dig its way through as she seemingly stepped into existence followed by her daggers - Finesse and the Low Blade - that held snug in the leather holsters attached to her back.

 

She was a force to be reckoned with, that was assured, but Varric saw through the trappings and decorations to Hawke’s weary blue eyes. Hawke’s beautiful baby blues that held such luster before and now only held glimpses of hope, littered with stains of tearful regret.

 

"It sure is nice to be home again," Hawke said looking around the dark building. Her voice sounded casual, but it was clear that memories were making their way unbidden through her mind. "Too bad the Chantry repossessed it the moment I left, or I would’ve had a fire going. A nice warm fire to push away all of the harsh cold feelings that surged through me the day we left." Hawke’s words floated to the ceiling echoing upon the hollow stone living area that once smelled of dog, baked goods and many an Enchantment.

 

"I miss them Varric. Even though I sided with the Chantry in the hope that it would bring a structured end, I never stopped wondering where it would lead. Now that I am where I am, I can’t help but think about everyone that helped me get here. I can’t help thinking back to the days when this manor was full of life and we were trying to dissect the mundane problems of the city and move along public relations in attempts to get the Qunari to leave peaceably." Hawke’s feelings seemed to string through her sentences without much inhibition; tears streamed down her face and as if in reflexive response, a warm gloved hand drew her attention to the dwarf at her side. "I know you’re here with me Varric, but even as I stand here with you by my side, I can’t help but think of the ghosts of my past coming back to haunt me. I can’t help but feel the merciless fury of Meredith’s deranged scream as she doomed herself to a fate that I would consider worse than death; her agony now personified in petrified form for all of Thedas to see. Orsino the blob monster who was essentially destroyed attempting to flee his fate with flourishes of desperation, who days before was asking me to help him clean house. Why did Anders think his alternative would save the world when his arrogance only seemed to make things worse at every turn? All of them were fools, pretending that they knew the way the world should work." She looked out the window toward the chantry that still let forth small plumes of smoke into the air, despite it being a year or so since the incident in question. "How can I fix or help an ailing world without becoming yet another stubborn fool?" Hawke’s tears were soft and subtle, gliding down her cheek, but remaining silent in their approach; Varric wished sometimes that she wasn’t so much taller than he was, because he could never intimately comfort her when she was standing, but he knew his consoling words would be enough.

 

"You know Hawke, never once did any of us ever doubt you. I mean sure, the same couldn’t really be said for Anders, but all of us stood by you and we were all there fighting that damned blob and that lunatic that had a little too much lyrium for her own good. Still, standing there in the threshold of the Gallows and listening to the world crash down around us, your path was true, your head was clear and your intentions were honorable, even if they were a little off sometimes. Everyone gets a little jumpy when they have to make a big step." Varric walked slowly back over toward the uncomfortable stone chair that stood in the middle of the room contemplating ways to comfort her. "Heck, I still remember Bartrand's first time outside. I think I remember telling you about that too." He laughed heartily at the recollection, then altered his stance and grabbed onto the back of the chair with widened eyes. “Aren’t you afraid Varric? Aren’t you afraid of the sky? It will consume you! It will consume us all. Paragons! Why did I ever leave Orzammar? Whine, whine, whine; pout, pout, pout." Varric let go of the back of the chair and chuckled a little more to himself. "He just wouldn’t shut up about that damned sky for weeks because he was deathly afraid of something he didn’t understand. You need to stop and consider the situation Hawke. Remember that taking a leap into hazardous territory, like a dwarf venturing to the surface for the first time, is something incredibly dangerous and nerve-racking. You knew that when you joined mine and Bartrand’s expedition when we first met, but you accepted the consequences anyway, barely a year after seeing your own brother clubbed by the self-same darkspawn we encountered in those blighted tunnels."

 

Hawke laughed a little and allowed her tears to dry a bit on her cheek in the warmth of Varric’s consolation. "That is true," she stated, looking around at the estate that she earned through her work in the Deep Roads all those years ago. "I have taken a lot of risks."

 

Varric nodded in mock solemnity to Hawke’s comment and then looked at her with reassuring eyes, a small hint of something else hidden deeper within. He stepped around the chair to be directly in front of her, her body accented by the window light that fell onto her skin in an artful display of cool blues and purples. "Yes, you have Hawke," Varric replied, his face tightening up with sarcastic severity; his hands taking both of hers in a feinted gesture of respect, and now it’s time to make some more."

 

He let the silence hang for a moment, and then flashed a roguish smile. “Off to the Hanged Man!” He exclaimed, lifting his arms in celebration. He started out the door, his still-numb legs slowing him down. "Meet you there Hawke."

 

Hawke watched silently as Varric left, smiling at the warmth provided by Varric’s reconciliation of her past. After a few moments however, the smile faded as she stared at her bare estate. She had taken her things away a couple months ago and placed them under a broken floorboard in Varric’s palatial suite at the Hanged Man, but she was so used to seeing it all splayed out that this didn’t even feel like her house anymore. The sense of calm solidarity she had felt in this place before she had moved on was gone, and now she felt like an alien to the walls around her. She couldn’t help but feel that her legacy had crumbled away from beneath her even after all the work she did to establish it, and although she couldn’t fight her feelings, the more she wallowed in the flashbacks of her past the more positive a good stiff drink was beginning to sound. After a few more moments of contemplation, she shook herself. Vanishing once more into the shadow, she climbed up the walls and out a window, using it to push herself out into the night...

 

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To be continued ---

 

Chapter 1: (Part 2) What now?

 

- - "We're on the cusp of a holy war, the world's heroes are scattered or gone and all sense as we know it is gone. So, let's get drunk!"

Edited July 9, 2013 by Guest

[DarthBrendo]

I've split off the other posts and archived them as requested.

 

It's been a while since I've played Dragon Age, but this reads quite well.

[Travis]

chasing the Divine hand and her guard

That should be "Divine's hand."

 

I also suggest you break up some of the mega-paragraphs. Even if they are all spoken by the same person, they don't need to be in the same paragraph. It will make it easier to read if you do.

 

I love Dragon Age and am always interested in how other people view it, so I will try to read along.

[Pinckz]

Thank you for that little correction Travis. I have corrected it and will keep my paragraph length in mind in the future.

 

I would also like to ask the people who read this, what their stance is on choosing how a story evolves?

 

Basically, if you could choose from a handful of options on how a story progresses, would that be interesting for you?

[Travis]

In honesty, I am not a fan of it. While I can and do accept feedback and suggestions on my novel, I am the one who ultimately is in charge of what happens. Sometimes, I don't accept suggestions because I am the only one who knows where things are going and to change it would alter that. Plus, if I am forced to write what other people want, it won't be mine and my heart won't quite be in it as much as if I were telling my story. You should write what you want and not what other people want you to write.

[Pinckz]

That is true, but I meant what did you think about it from the stand point of the person making the choice, not the writer that worked with the choice made?

 

In the end what I write will be mine, however I do want to offer some choice, because I kind of wanted this to mimic Dragon Age in a way. I am going to experiment with this somewhat with my next section, because I want to kind of see where it goes. I am currently looking into a beta reader situation and have asked Ami to do so. However, I heard she doesn't have as much time at her disposal, which may or may not leave me without a beta reader.

 

I really like her beta reading because she can be harsh without being too harsh and she always catches my bad writing habits, which is helpful for me. Still, if she can't, I may need to look elsewhere.

[Travis]

Well, since you didn't specify whether you wanted critique or not, I didn't really go into it. If you want, I can do so from now on and keep you straight.

[Pinckz]

Alright Travis, but I do not wish to just post it in here and have you critique it just to post it again. I think I will PM what I have and then you and I can work together from there.

[Travis]

No, don't do that. Do like what most of us do in posting it, then going back and editing (if you have to). That is how I do things with my novel and also how Ami did it with her story. That way, others can possibly comment upon my critique and confirm or repudiate what I said. I am but one person and while I may not like something, others may so you wouldn't want to change it just on my words, especially where it comes to opinion based stuff and not just grammatical.

[Pinckz]

Key things you need to know --->

(( I am not going to repeat the disclaimer, anyone reading beyond this point knows, or should know about it. If not, see the top of this thread for the disclaimer. ))

 

((For those of you who have played Dragon Age II feel free to proceed to the Story that follows after the 'definitions' unless you wish to peruse what I wrote and/or comment on anything I missed. ))

 

Viscount: The Viscount is the position of politics in Kirkwall. Whoever is the viscount is essentially the governor of the city. They handle public affairs, political squabbles and crime. The Templars of Kirkwall had a firm grip on who was to be the viscount, but when the Divine started occupying the town, they decided that the templar power wasn't effective and promoted the former captain of the guard into the viscount's position in the hope that it might bring some order to the people.

 

Varric's nicknames: Varric had nicknames for almost all of Hawke's companions and they were as follows: Rivaini - Isabella (Pirate who had her morals tested in Hawke's company), Daisy - Merrill (former first of a lost Dalish Clan), Blondie - Anders (Possessed Mage), Choir-Boy - Sebastian (Noble of a land not far from Kirkwall and a holy man of the Maker), Elf - Fenris (A slave that earned his freedom.), and Sunshine - Bethany (Hawke's sister).

 

'Crisis at the Chantry': I say this an awful lot during the story and I don't know if people necessarily know what I means. I won't go into too many details for those who haven't played the game, but due to unforeseen circumstances (that I mentioned in a previous, 'Key things you need to know' section) the Chantry in Kirkwall was destroyed.

 

Aveline - A former companion of the Champion, has now been asked to take on the mantle of viscount. She wasn't very fond of the idea. She isn't allowed as much time out in the open as she was used to. However, she is still allowed to fight for what is right and with Donnic at her side, she is all the more confident in herself. She does wonder what happened to Hawke, especially since Hawke's dog, Gwaren is now with her, but she knows that wherever Hawke is, she is trying to make a difference.

 

Donnic - Donnic was promoted to Captain of the guard in the wake of his wife's own promotion. Both decisions were made simultaneously by the same person so rumors of conspiracy in the ranks never really emerged. Donnic is a committed man and is very good at what he does. He is devoted to Aveline and is willing to do whatever he can to protect the people of Kirkwall. However, Donnic is still just a man. He is swayed much the same as any man when he is fatigued and is known to enjoy drink and revelry with friends if it is offered.

 

((If there is anything I missed, or anything you aren't sure about, but feel like asking, give me a PM and I will be sure to answer your question when I can.))

 

 
 

 

 

 

_____________________________________________ [[[ STORY ]]] _____________________________________________

 

 
 

 

 

 

Chapter 1: (Part 2) What now?

 

- - "We're on the cusp of a holy war, the world's heroes are scattered or gone and all sense as we know it is gone. So, let's get drunk!"

 

Guards ran down the streets of Kirkwall for what seemed like hours, passing the austere white manses of the privileged minority and following vague rumors of a shadowy prowler skirting the mansion rooftops. The rumor originated from an old crone that heard a scuffling sound atop the roof of the Hawke estate. The shakiness of the discovery and the sour reputation of the old woman who gave the information suggested that the guards would be particularly disinclined to follow such rubbish, but before Captain Donnic turned away from the shaky finger of the crone, he heard the aforementioned disturbance and complied, summoning his retinue to follow.

 

Now, late into the night and only slight into the early morn, the sound of the guard’s heavy veridium armor could still be heard all throughout Hightown, pounding against the cobbled stone walkways and making pedestrians shake at the sound of their thunderous procession. It was a clumsy orchestra of metallic dissonance that rang throughout the town without discretionary credence to the slumber of nobility and as such, the guards became the targets of several complaints as they passed; sleepy words were rained down upon the guard like a bombardment of fiery drunken squabbling, but there was no answer. The guards took no care to shield or halt their movement and instead, continued even faster down through the winding streets toward Lowtown.

 

After all, the noisy disturbances in the night were just a part of several subsequent incidents that were driving mild irritation toward the guard in the time following the chantry incident. The nobles, months after the crisis at the Chantry, blamed the guards for their incompetence and somehow thought that they were involved in the Chantry’s destruction. An even wilder assumption led to a strong controversial theory that the new viscount used the guard to her own ends, even though the new viscount had been nothing if not honorable for her first month or so in office.

 

Despite the rabble rousing and wild accusations though, all of the crime in Kirkwall, save from a few scuffles in Dark and Lowtown, hadn’t escalated beyond a few minor misdemeanors in months. Plus, there was more irritation levied toward the Templar presence in Kirkwall than the guard, so the guards had some leeway with the people. The lack of crime in the city didn’t mean that the guards weren’t wary though. In fact, the lack of criminal activity made the guards that much more jumpy, especially considering the amount of conflict that led to the presence of the Divine in Kirkwall.

 

It became clear though, that no amount of suspicion would compensate for the guard’s frustration and impatience. Night waned and the slow emergence of sunlight, burned off the last vestiges of patience that the guards had left. Captain Donnic, who was also running on his last legs, occasionally listened to his men and got really close to calling off the entire hunt once or twice. Once the procession stopped for a few minutes to take a breather though, the scuffling would come back and lead them even further through the streets. Several of the guards suggested climbing to the roofs of several of the Hightown estates, but with no promises that the prowler would lose them should they start to climb, the suggestions were shot down as quickly as they came up. So in the end, the dark and obscure forms of the buildings were all they had to lead them along.

 

The guardsmen tried to ignore false leads from shaken citizenry, but even with Kirkwall’s finest bearing down on the phantom, the shrouded form moved even faster as the night drew on. Captain Donnic’s perseverance was just about up, but he continued to push the men and women of his retinue to the edge of their patience well into the night and all the way through every last corner Hightown.

 

By the time they left Hightown, the sun was making its way across roofs of glittering white stone and bearing down the tread of Captain Donnic’s weary patrol. The guard captain's ragged assurances hung heavily on his shoulders; his resolve had already broken away into to doubt and restructured itself into something less than it was. His fatigue was echoed in the chorus of sounds that came from his fellow guardsmen and he could see no other alternative. It was at this stage of their hunt that they passed by the Hanged Man tavern in Lowtown. The Tavern was placed where three roads met. One road led back the way they came, past the Lowtown market and into Hightown. The other two roads wrapped around the back of the tavern and led to either the Elven Alienage, the docks, or deep into Darktown.

 

It was here that they decided to end their search, because Captain Donnic and his patrol were exhausted and needed to stop. The few guards that weren’t panting heavily openly cursed the old lady in Hightown, accusing her of leading them on a wild goose chase. To hopefully misdirect the anger and irritation, Captain Donnic suggested that they should check for any evidence they could find in the tavern, with an obvious grin that stretched from ear to ear.

 

The guards shambled through the door of the Hanged Man with bits of faded determination hanging on their bodies and lingering in their eyes. Although the guards were there to, ‘find evidence,’ in the end, the guards were diverted by the smells of food and liquor. Many patrons cried out in reaction to the men and women in armor, but despite a moment of brief complaint, nothing really came of their presence aside from drink and revelry. Guard Captain Donnic found his guardsmen a table near the front and slowly faded into the other masses around them. The prowler that had seemed so real, began to fly away from them in mists of amber serenity.

 

The patrons knew to give the guardsmen some space, but otherwise, the people who came to be boisterous and loud were free to do so and those who came to the tavern looking for answers to life’s problems, sat quietly embracing their ale and their insecurity. The people who sat to merely wallow weren’t the sort to start conversation because their lives often weren’t worth regaling, but their presence wasn’t barred because they wallowed in self-pity. They knew that the Hanged Man wasn’t the most obvious answer to life’s inevitable ailments, because the Waking Sea was so close by, but since they valued their lives and sought opportunities to remain alive, they settled on the only real tavern in Kirkwall. It was often the best way to find release and discover a fresh perspective on the people and politics of Kirkwall. Virtually all walks of Kirkwall society were there to share in the mind numbing effects of a gracious, indifferent substance and as such could be seen exactly for what they were. It was a free place to converse, let go and contemplate. Some did a little contemplation with their fists, but that was their prerogative.

 

The Hanged Man also provided a viable opportunity for people to escape. It had a history of providing residence for those who wanted to lay low or to escape life’s petty problems, because it was located in a place that was so common that many wouldn’t often think to look there. After all, the building’s interior wasn’t much to gawk at. It had one big main room with a vaulted ceiling, four bedrooms that varied in size, two small rooms that branched off of the back bedrooms and one backroom that could be accessed behind the bar. One of the larger bedrooms in particular, was the palatial suite owned by Kirkwall’s own, Varric Tethras. Each room was simplistically decorated, aside from Varric’s suite, which was filled with Dwarven made décor that often relied on stone and granite ornamentation.

 

As to the rest of the building; the entire tavern had wooden flooring, wooden tables varying in size from large four person tables to small rounded ones with various wooden chairs to match, and a wooden framed bar near the front door with a stone base. There were also a series of large spiked metal chandeliers that hung at the same elevation throughout the main room, constantly spewing flames into the air. All of the walls and ceilings of the tavern were covered with dingy yellow-ish wallpaper that bore a striking resemblance to canvas and everything in the tavern seemed to wear a comfortable layer of dirt. On top of all of that, for no real reason at all, the main area’s huge vaulted ceiling had occasional orange rags or empty chains draped from place to place. There were windows, but while they were fairly moderate in size, they were scarce in number.

 

Varric sighed in relief, feeling the cushion of his chair rest underneath him. The dwarf reveled in the familiar sounds of flagons clattering and patrons bickering; the smells of the public masses washing throughout the establishment to every waiting soul that deign to ignore the importance of their nose. It was an immense feeling of joy that Varric couldn’t even begin to describe to anyone else and there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

 

“That will be all for our order, Norah, for the moment. Oh, and tell the Guard Captain he can have a free round on me.” Varric said, handing a small pouch of silvers to a woman with ragged knots in her short brown hair, obvious signs of yet another busy day. The fatigue apparently hadn’t hit her muscles though, because the woman left Varric’s room carrying a hefty metal platter in her right hand and three empty flagons in her left.

 

"Why did you do that?" Hawke said, a little shocked. Her hands were struggling with the leather straps of a metal boot. "Don't you think the guards would get a little suspicious?"

 

Varric smiled. "No Hawke. Norah knows not to use my name and better yet, even if she did use my name, 'Captain' Donnic has no reason to chase after me." Varric hopped down from his comfortable chair for a moment and walked toward Hawke, trying to help her remove one of her metal boots and replace it with a nicely woven leather sandal.

 

After both of Hawke's boots were removed, Varric slowly walked back to his seat, maintaining an eye on Hawke the entire time. "Plus, with that charade you pulled dragging them all throughout Hightown, I figure they needed a little rest and relaxation."

 

Hawke's face seemed to burn a deep ruby under her sapphire eyes and she looked at Varric with a little smirk. "Well, they never would have found me if I didn't make so much noise when I left. I accidentally knocked one of the roof slates off and it hit this old wo-OUCH!"

 

Hawke reached for her head frantically and started shuffling around in her seat.

 

“Oh, that reminds me. I meant to ask you how you liked your new disguise?” Varrick chuckled, staring over at Hawke who sat opposite him across a large Dwarven made stone table.

 

Hawke was dressed in a simple brown dress and a darker brown leather corset. Her hair was done up and hidden beneath a flaming red wig that, frankly, looked like a large tabby cat clinging on for dear life. It almost felt like one too and if Hawke wasn’t irritated by the fact she couldn’t breathe, she probably would have been more inclined to comment. Hawke's hands were busying themselves about the wig trying to make sure it fit properly. but before she could offer a witty retort, she recoiled, accidentally pulling out one of her own hairs. From the sarcastic air of Varric’s comment, Hawke could safely assume that the dwarf was deliberately hiding a bout of laughter behind his mischievous grin that could have easily left his throat, had he not a character trait toward charismatic subtlety.

 

Hawke stared daggers at Varric through the ragged locks of matted red fur that hung down from the wig, but happily accepted and greeted Norah when she dropped off their drinks.

 

“Oh c’mon Hawke, its only fun if you laugh too. Well… Okay, that’s not true, but it helps.” Varric chuckled again as he massaged his grumbling belly and took a deep swig of his alcohol.

 

A sharp point caught Varric’s shin, sending streams of hot pain splintering through him, but when he moved to react, Hawke was staring at him with her mischievously innocent look that he found utterly adorable. Even in the hideous red wig that Varric was desperate to find at such short notice, he could still see the contours of her face the same as they’d always been. Her bottom lip quivered with a fake innocence and her blue eyes grew wide, but one small dimple on the right side of her mouth always gave the truth away.

 

“Oh Hawke… That is a dangerous game to play.” Varric grinned widely as he inclined his head toward the bed, his interest apparent.

 

Hawke looked at him incredulously, her eyebrows rising almost to the middle of her forehead, as if the comment needed no recognition. Her mouth said nothing, but her face seemed to say, ‘you know exactly what my answer is.’

 

Varric’s gleeful expression faltered, the contours of his rough calloused face, dipping into a soft frown. “A shame,” he said softly. “It has been a while.”

 

“And it is going to be even longer,” Hawke gibed after blowing a particularly stubborn crimson curl out of her eye, “if you keep making me wear stuff like this.”

 

Varric smiled in resignation to her graceful refusal and got up to close the door to his suite. His legs were a bit more limber now, considering the amount of distance he had to cover to get here, but his gait was still slow. There was a deliberate pause at the door with several glances to see if anyone was coming and although a wandering man passed by, there wasn’t really much to fear. The man that passed by was a known town crier who went by the moniker, 'The Talkative Man.' Nobody really knew why that was his nickname, aside from the fact that he liked to talk an awful lot about subjects that often made no sense out of context. However, as far as eavesdropping and sneaking about, he was a fairly harmless fellow with nothing much to his name.

 

Being a little more cautious than normal circumstances required however, Varric waited for him to pass by. Then, once the Talkative Man cleared the visible portion of the doorway, Varric slowly closed the heavy wooden door and shambled back to his seat. He sank into the warm and comfortable, plushy fibers he loved so much and looked deep into Hawke’s bright blue eyes. “So, what do you want to do?”

 

The question was open and inviting, almost testing the hard gaze that Hawke gave under the foam that stuck to her upper lip. “Well, I want to keep drinking, for starters…” Hawke said, swigging a little more and then clapping the butt of the flagon to the stone table.

 

“You know darn well that wasn’t what I was talking about Hawke.” Varric asserted, his eyes digging deeper and deeper into her defensive expression. “What do you plan to do about everything? Or are you set to watch the world destroy itself?” Varric asked, leaning in toward the center of the granite table, his elbows planted to the surface to give him support.

 

Hawke swallowed a heavy lump that stuck in the pit of her throat and for a few moments didn’t even acknowledge Varric’s presence. “I- I don’t know.” She said, thumbing the edge of her flagon anxiously. “I don’t want to watch as the world tears apart, but I don’t want to charge in blindly either. We need teammates, we need a plan and we need a way to get it done, because right now I can’t do much without ‘The Divine’ finding me and placing me in their own holy war.”

 

Varric nodded quietly. He knew about her uncertainties and knew that if this wasn’t done right, there would be hell to pay. He had a few contacts and favors at their disposal though and was a little more prepared for this outcome than he initially let on. Varric’s eyes found Hawke’s once more, as they darted about and she sighed, a smile emerging from behind a wall of foggy denial. “You have a plan, don’t you?” She asked.

 

“I always do, don’t I?” Varric said, his hands coming together in the center of his torso, each finger touching the opposite in a manner akin to master criminals or inventors on the verge of an epiphany. “There are a few groups here that may want your help. I may have told them in a series of indirect contacts that I know the Champion and I may have told them I have a way of contacting the Champion. The only issue is that these groups are a little pushy and although they all want the Champion, we can’t take or go with all of them at the same time. You have to make a choice. The only reason the Divine hasn’t overheard of this arrangement is because our ‘friends’ haven’t blabbed about it, but it just means that we need to move, or the Seeker is likely to come back and roast my Dwarven butt.”

 

Varric rolled out a large piece of parchment, revealing a floor plan of the Hanged Man's bar area. He used a couple of extra flagon's to keep the edges from sticking up and began to point out particular positions on the document. “Now, all we have to do is decide where to go first and then gallivant off to make the world a better place.” At that line, Hawke leveled a steely glare at Varric in response. “What, that is how you do it? Right, Hawke?” Varric’s amusement was imperturbable this time, even with the pain in his shin acting up again.

 

“Alright,” Hawke said, after a long silence. “Who is who and what do they need?”

 

Varric drew his finger to a large 'A' that stood over the corner near the bar. “Here is where a familiar face sits. The Rivaini has come back after a long voyage across the sea and has come into contact with a number of perturbed Qunari scout ships. And by come into contact, I mean she's felt their sting. She is still under a lot of scrutiny from the giant horny grey men, but as far as she is concerned, that quarrel ended when you beat the Arishok. Still, she wants you to help her by traveling to the Qunari homeland of Par Vollen and resolving the issues they are having there. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to catch up a bit.”

 

Varric’s finger slid across the sheet of parchment to what looked like one of the larger tables. A large letter 'B' sat poised beneath Varric's gloved finger. “Here, is where a small group of elves sit. These elves are from the alienage and they are looking for Daisy. As you know, she became a prominent figure in the alienage after Blondie's emotional fiasco. She helped them rebuild and is now one of the most influential members of the community. Still, they say she has gone missing and wish for your help in going to get her.”

 

Varric’s concerned glance echoed the strong parental influence he had over Merrill during their time together. It was enough to show his preference. Still, his finger continued to slide across the parchment and this time, Varric’s finger rest atop a corner table that sat next to the open fireplace. There was a large “C” over this spot and as a small sign of significance, a small griffon. “The woman that sits here contacted me a while ago, out of the blue. It wasn’t something I was truly expecting to be honest, but when she told me she had connections to the more influential parties in Ferelden and that she needed help with something of a homeland issue, I felt that you would be perfect for it. She is a curious character to be sure, and even more curious, is that Cousland insignia she had on the back of a large shield.”

 

Varric scratched at his rough beard and took a look around before sighing heavily. “With Blondie gone, the Elf shacked up with the Templars, Sunshine moving to the circle in Ferelden, the Choir-Boy going back to his homeland after mourning Elthina, and Aveline being elected viscount, you really have no other help here.” Varric said, taking pauses between each painful truth to comfort Hawke, "Aside from Bianca and I of course." Varric smiled, hefting his large automatic crossbow off of his back and into his gloved hands.

 

Hawke was still a little nonplussed about the situation and hesitated on the edge of saying something for a minute or two. Then, when the words were just about to break through her lips, Varric held up a finger and stalled for a moment before placing it atop Hawke’s mouth, stopping her from saying what was on her mind. “You wanted to help Hawke. You wanted to know where to go and what to do, so there you go. Here are three groups of people waiting in line to have the might of the champion at their side. We best not keep them waiting." Varric said, motioning toward the door. "Let’s give ‘em hell!”

 

======================= CHOICE TIME! ======================

 

At the very end of the story, Hawke was given a choice between three different interested parties, on who she would like to help/assist. As it was the player’s job in DAII and DAI to choose the outcome of certain situations, I am going to ask the audience to choose which group they would like to see the story progress with. It isn’t mandatory and if no choices are thrown out, I will choose one instead, but I would like to see what people want to read.

 

I understand my reader base isn’t that large, but I am hoping to draw more in with time.

((Understand that the outcomes of these choices may not be exactly within the lines of what bioware wanted for DA, but I will do what I can to stay faithful to the characters and the mythos. Also, as the choices get to be closer and closer to certain issues, it will change the story a bit. I haven’t created this little mechanic because I can’t come up with a story on my own, but because I would like to write a story that is interesting to potential readers and drawing them in with something interesting should be fun. ))

 

((Please PM me your choice as soon as possible, if you have one, and I will read it when I have the time. (I'll give it a few days.) ))

 

To Recap =

 

• • A) Isabella is back from a voyage across the sea with a telling tale of viscous Qunari on the rise. She is still under close watch by the Qunari for previous events and is, in a way, trying to redeem herself by seeking insight into their issues. She is concerned for the amount of armed Qunari sailing and if their perturbed nature will mean the lack of future trade or exploration for her or any other seafaring individual. She is asking the champion to sail with her to Par Vollen and seek out the answers to the issues arising on the sea.

B) Merrill is gone and the elves of the Kirkwall Alienage wish for the Champion to find her. They don’t know much about the champion, aside from tales, but they know she was friends with Merrill and they know that the champion’s position was vital in Merrill’s association with the alienage elves. They care for her dearly and were hoping that the Champion’s friendship would give some lean toward finding their wayward friend.

 

• C) The third interested party is a mystery. The only clues offered were a Cousland crest, the influence with Ferelden higher ups, and the association she held with Ferelden itself.

 

<>

Edited May 18, 2012 by Guest

[Travis]

Before you panic at reading this, note that I am not trying to belittle you. I am trying to help you see errors that you missed so that you can improve both your story and your writing. Believe me, others have pointed out some pretty bad mistakes to me from my novel and it has helped me. Early on, it is critical to get things right so you can not fall into bad habits or get the story so hopelessly screwed up that to fix it all would be a monumental task that overwhelms you and causes you to quit. I have been there with previous projects and it isn't fun.

 

Several of the guards suggested climbing to the roofs of several of the Hightown manses. But with no promises that the prowler would lose them should they climb to the roofs of the buildings, the suggestions were shot down as quickly as they came up. So in the end, the dark and obscure forms of the manses were all they had to lead them along.

Yes, the word "manses" is technically correct, but it is not the best word to use. I edit for another friend on deviantart (English isn't her primary language) and she tends to use a lot of really obscure words like that, probably from a thesaurus or dictionary. If I, someone with a vocabulary comprehension rate in the top 3% of the US population (I took multiple tests from reputable companies that confirmed that), have to look it up, you probably need to use a different word.

 

In fact, the lack of suspicious activity made the guards that much more suspicious and jumpy, especially considering the amount of conflict that led to the presence of the Divine in Kirkwall.

 

It became clear though, that no amount of suspicion would compensate for the guard’s frustration and impatience.

I am suspicious of you using the word "suspicious" too many times in a suspiciously short period of time. Use some diversity.

 

he heard the aforementioned disturbance and patronized her, summoning his retinue to follow.

Donnic would occasionally patronize his men and get really close to calling off the entire hunt

Unless he is shopping in their store or insulting them, "patronize" is not the best word to use here. If it is the latter, then the first sentence doesn't make sense (though the second could if you reworded it a bit).

 

Donnic’s perseverance was just about up, but he continued to push the men and women of his retinue to the confluence of their patience well into the night and all the way through every last corner Hightown.

http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/confluence?s=t

Confluence??? Wrong word to use there. I am noticing that you are throwing in a LOT of big, fancy, or obscure words that are not normally part of your vocabulary (I have seen you RP and post on the site enough to know this). Do yourself a favor and throw away the thesaurus. Fancy words=/=good words. You are not Shakespeare or Edgar Allen Poe, do not try to be. Use natural (but not informal) vocabulary.

 

The guard captain's ragged assurances that had already given way to doubt, finally re-emerged as denial.

The sentence makes little sense as worded. How can assurances give way to doubt, then re-emerge as denial without having been denial to begin with? Plus, I don't think that comma is needed, though it might be after you rewrite that sentence.

 

The few of the guards that weren’t panting heavily, openly cursed the old lady in Hightown, accusing her of leading them on a wild goose chase.

Eliminate the first comma.

 

Many patrons cried out in reception of the men in armor, but despite a moment of brief complaint,

They cried out in reception? Did you mean "reaction to the men in armor?"

 

The people who sat to merely wallow weren’t the sort to start conversation, because their lives often weren’t worth regaling, but their presence wasn’t barred because they wallowed in self-pity.

Eliminate the first comma.

 

Oddly, whether it was because it is late and I am growing tired or you got into the swing of things, I didn't find any obvious errors toward the end of the chapter. You stopped using obscure words and punctuation made better sense. That doesn't mean it is perfect, just that I missed anything that might have been off.

 

Something to note: you started off with the guards, but never said what happened to them. They walked into the Hanged Man, the very place Hawke was hiding out, and then . . . . nothing.

 

Positive elements of the story are that you are clearly trying to get in good descriptions of what is going on. Most people don't do that at first and are too full of action and dialogue. You went a little overboard at the start, but it smoothed itself out rather well toward the end. You had a good balance of dialogue and description once we got to Varric and yet, you seem to keep Varric close enough to what he was in the game (we don't know how you played Hawke as she was your creation).

[Pinckz]

I have made some changes as requested. I hope the changes reflect what you meant to say and what you meant to happen. If they don't, please let me know and I will try again.

[Amidala Skywalker]

I vote for C! Isabella's concerns about the Qunari don't seem like they will make a difference in the war at this point, and let's face it, Merrill's probably best off on her own being a mad blood mage. Cousland, however, grabs my attention immediately, and I think it would grab my Hawke's attention too, given how my Hawke still thinks about Ferelden occasionally.

 

Travis caught most of the grammatical things, so I won't comment there, but the one thing that really threw me he also alluded to. You had it from Donnic's POV (you need to capitalize Captain when with his name, by the way) until they got into the Hanged Man, and then there was the description of the bar, and then all of a sudden out of the blue it was from Varric's POV. If you want to do something like that, know that it does leave us hanging as to what is going on in Kirkwall that has the guardsmen in a flutter and brings the guards into the Hanged Man for no apparent reason. That's fine, but then you definitely need a break either before or after the description of the pub.

[Pinckz]

So I tried to give a little more to the guard situation.

 

"...Many patrons cried out in reaction to the men in armor, but despite a moment of brief complaint, nothing really came of their presence aside from drink and revelry. Guard Captain Donnic found his guard a table near the front and slowly faded into the other masses around them. The prowler that had seemed so real, began to fly away from them in mists of amber serenity..."

 

I don't think it really answers who the prowler was, but I am having trouble fitting that in to the story. If I find a way to do it, I will post it up, but right now it will have to remain like that.

 

_______________________________

 

EDIT::: ---

 

Okay, there are now a few lines added in to hopefully make the transition smoother and to remove one or two of the smoke and mirror illusions.

[Pinckz]

I know Double post and all that, but it appears that my vote actually did get somewhere. There weren't too many voters, but we do have a winner and I will work with it as I go. I will finish out chapter 1 soon with the results...

 

(( I may try the choice thing again down the line, but don't count on this being a choice for every dialogue like it was in DAI and II. That would get a bit time consuming and although I do value my reader's opinions, I would like to keep some creative influence over this story. ))

Edited May 22, 2012 by Guest

[Travis]

When is the next part to be posted?

[Pinckz]

Funny you should mention that, I was actually waiting for someone to post. ((Well that, and I have had a lot on my plate as of late.))

 

Please Enjoy and I will work on Chapter 2 Part 1 when I can.

 

Key things you need to know --->

 

Darkspawn: Monsters that, if we are to believe the Chantry, were once men. They were once mages of the Tevinter Imperium that thought themselves superior to the maker and brazenly entered his Golden City. This offense blackened the once Golden City and the mages were cast back to the world of Thedas as the first darkspawn.

 

The Blight: The Blight describes large waves of darkspawn rising from the deep roads and warring against the peoples of Thedas. The key point in determining whether it is a Blight or not, is if the group is being led by an archdemon.

---- Archdemon: When the Darkspawn find an Old God buried in the deep roads, they dig it up and it possess one of the lesser darkspawn. That darkspawn then transforms into the form of a hideous dragon. The resulting dragon is the archdemon.

 

Grey Wardens: In response to the first Blight, an order of Warriors was built. These warriors drank a finely tuned elixir made with lyrium and darkspawn blood to give them the ability to see and sense their enemies. This blood also made the Grey Wardens the only warriors to permanently end a Blight, and made the Grey Wardens vulnerable to early lives and horrific nightmares.

 

The Fifth Blight: This is the Blight that is in Dragon Age Origins. The Old God Urthemiel was awoken by the Architect and the Blight began with a tragic defeat in Ostagar.

 

Highever: A Northern Ferelden land that sits fairly close to Amaranthine. This land is owned by Teyrn Fergus Cousland, Helena’s Brother. The backstory of Highever and the rulers that preceded the current ones are disclosed in the Noble Human Origin Story in Dragon Age Origins.

 

((If you have any other questions, please let me know.))

 

 
 

 

 

 

_____________________________________________ [[[ STORY ]]] _____________________________________________

 

 
 

 

 

 

Chapter 1: (Part 3) A new beginning...

 

- - "I guess its time to save the world... Again..."

 

Hawke took a few minutes to consider her options. She looked at each letter individually, weighing the importance of each and although all of the parties were equally important to her, something about the woman from Ferelden stood out to her. The Champion still missed her homeland. She wished about nothing else for years, but after everything she had been through and all of the people she had lost, there was no reason for her to return or make a living there. Still, to be given an invitation to go back and help in some mysterious matter by someone she had never met was just odd. It was intriguing and mysterious; everything a good adventure needed.

 

The other option she considered, and would probably return to when she got back, was Merrill’s. The young mage was adorably helpless and one of Hawke’s better friends. They hadn’t spoken to each other for a year and the last time they saw each other was days after the incident at the Chantry. She saw Merrill helping an elven refugee recover from falling and dropping a basket full of produce onto the ground. Hawke would have waved to her friend, but Varric was gone for a few months with Isabella, so Hawke needed to be very careful who she was seen with.

 

This Qunari situation though, was a mess waiting to happen and Isabella being wrapped up in it was too coincidental to take seriously. She did care for Isabella. Hawke stood up for the pirate queen throughout her personal evolution and cared for her wellbeing, but something that Hawke learned in her travels with Isabella, was that she was a big girl and could take care of herself. Not to mention, Hawke really wasn’t looking forward to interacting with the Qunari again, especially after the last time they met on the field of battle. Granted, Hawke’s sarcasm was a bit disrespectful when they talked, but she couldn’t really help it if the big horny grey men didn’t have a sense of humor.

 

Hawke sat in silence as Varric patiently scratched at his stubble. Then, with a soft but affirmative sigh, Hawke put her finger on the letter ‘C’ and requested an audience with the lady from Ferelden.

 

Varric nodded his head slowly and immediately afterward, hopped off of his chair to the stiff floor. He shuffled across the room and carefully opened the large wooden door to his suite just enough to fit a hand through. He looked outside to double check, and then performed a series of hand movements in the air on the other side of the door.

 

Hawke tried to shift around in her seat to see what he was doing, but he was behind a few pieces of furniture and the door obscured almost everything that was going on outside of it. It was an adequate precaution, but she wasn’t very fond of being forced to sit in one place for very long. She also didn’t like being in a position where she couldn’t control what was going on.

 

Varric paused for a moment outside the door when a small clicking noise emerged from further in the tavern. The dwarf smiled, satisfaction evident in the creases of his large grin, and then turned about, shutting the door behind him. Hawke’s bewildered expression went unanswered as Varric slowly walked toward her, but somehow Hawke knew that something was going well.

 

“What was all that about?” Hawke asked, eyeing Varric suspiciously.

 

“Well Hawke, if I told you, I might have to kill you.” Varric replied, sounding a bit smoother than usual.

 

“I’d like to see you try.” Hawke shot back with a wink.

 

Varric chuckled back at her. Then, instead of sitting back in his chair, Varric went over to where Hawke sat, kissed her on the cheek, and sat in a chair adjacent to her. Before Hawke could ask why, the door to Varric’s palatial suit opened and a hooded figure walked in. There was no greeting, there was no ceremony. The figure simply walked through the large wooden door, closed it behind her and made it to the side of the room where Varric was sitting earlier.

 

“My apologies for the intrusion,” the hooded figure said. “I also apologize for the wrappings, but given the notoriety I have generated, it isn’t wise to strut around and show off.”

 

“I know what you mean.” Hawke replied. “Smoke and mirrors seems to be the only reasonable way to get around anymore.”

 

The figure’s cloak was made of a fine green fabric, but it was heavily weathered from travel and even though Hawke couldn’t tell who she was, something about her weary green eyes seemed familiar.

 

“Well, we are in a relatively private place. Would you please do us the honor of lowering your hood?” Varric asked with his hands ready on his hips.

 

The figure shied away from the offer as if the very thought of taking off her cloak was out of the question, but after taking a second or two of silence to herself, the figure put her hands up to the cowl of her hood and pulled it back.

 

Varric’s mouth shot down almost immediately and his eyes widened. “Andraste’s dimpled butt-cheeks!”

 

Hawke took a few minutes to look at the figure before her and couldn’t see what was so amazing about her. The woman in front of them had long red hair done up in a single braided ponytail that was draped across her right shoulder. She had a soft feminine face with freckles and a faded scar across the top of her right cheekbone. The weary green eyes she saw earlier hung underneath fine carrot red eyebrows and her body, although Hawke couldn’t see much of it, seemed sturdy but still feminine in a way unlike Aveline’s. She looked over at Varric who was in awe of whoever this was and whispered quietly to him. “Who is she?”

 

Varric almost didn’t register Hawke’s question, but when he finally snapped out of his trance, he looked back at Hawke with a winning smile. “This, my dear Champion of Kirkwall, is the warden that ended the Fifth Blight.”

 

The woman across the table blushed visibly at being so exposed, but Hawke almost couldn’t believe it. This woman ended… Wow.

Hawke was speechless. She sat there quietly whistling a tune in her head and just couldn’t come up with anything to respond with.

 

Helena Cousland was a little quiet herself, despite being the reason for their awe, but she felt that if she didn’t break the silence, no one would. “Yes, thank you Varric.” Helena said with a nod. “My name is Helena Cousland, former Teyrna of Highever. I passed the rule of my land to my brother in my absence and haven’t returned in several years. I have come to Kirkwall at great risk to my personal security as well as yours, because it seems we are both being hunted by the Divine.”

 

Helena broke away for a moment. Her eyes softened even more and something about the word, ‘Divine’ triggered a powerful emotion; so powerful that the warden of legend, was on the verge of tears. Every trace of it lingered in the vast sea of verdant green that pooled upon the bridge of her nose, threatening to let loose a torrent of sorrow.

 

“My apologies,” Helena managed finally, wiping away what little evidence there was. “I lost someone dear to me and haven’t seen her in some time. Last I heard she went back to Orlais, but that isn’t important right now.” The warden used her right hand as an instrument of indifference and wiped through the air in front of her face as if to absolve her of all emotion. “I am here to ask you for your help in a matter that concerns the Grey Wardens. I understand that you are not a Grey Warden yourself, but because I am in hiding, I can’t make a re-appearance in the order without arousing suspicion. So that leaves me with finding outside help.”

 

Hawke paused, breathing in the silence and considering the implications of the warden’s request. “So, you have a darkspawn problem?”

 

“I do have a complication yes; a complication that I caused years ago and regret completely.” The warden replied, anxiously. “Years ago I came into contact with a sentient Darkspawn named, ‘The Architect’ I believe Nathan told you about him?”

 

Hawke nodded her affirmation and scooted herself to the edge of her seat.

 

“Well, I was caught up in the idealism of a life without Blights. It isn’t that I don’t enjoy being a Grey Warden, but something about a time without conflict with the darkspawn seemed too good to pass up, considering the amount of turmoil we have to deal with on our own.” Helena pointed her thumb toward the door, alluding to the war that was currently wreaking havoc all across Thedas.

 

“The catch was, and I didn’t realize this at the time, the Architect must go and kill every Old God before he can truly free his people. This was one of his original plans in the time of Maric Theirin’s rule. However, the only reason the Fifth Blight was so cumbersome and premature was because The Architect awoke the Old God Urthemiel and tried to ‘cure’ him. He thought if he could stop the old god with his experiments, that he could prevent the blight. Well he didn’t, and half of Ferelden would have been better off without his ‘help’.”

 

Hawke hadn’t been watching Varric for most of Helena’s conversation, but at one point she snuck a glance and noticed Varric pacing back and forth on the side of the room. She didn’t really know what to comfort him with, but she saw his anxiety growing as the story continued. “So, you want us to help you destroy the Architect and continue the cycle of Blights?”

 

“Yes,” Helena said, staring at Hawke and Varric evenly. “The Architect, like the Mother, shows an ability to control the darkspawn unlike any we’ve seen aside from the darkspawn you faced in the Vimmark Mountains. He has the power to bring a Blight without the summoning of an Old God, which is a terrifying thought to say the least. The Grey Wardens have supposedly been monitoring his movements, but they lost him years ago and haven’t been able to find him again. I need your help to find him and stop him. I forsook my duty as a Grey Warden and a worshiper of Andraste to strike him down and I need to help to redeem my mistake. Will you accompany me?”

 

Hawke rolled her eyes for a moment. She didn’t really relish the thought of following another person who was steeped in the religion of the Maker, especially when carrying that faith often led to more destruction than not. However, since Helena was a fellow ‘hero in hiding,’ and a fellow Fereldan, Hawke would make an exception.

 

The Champion of Kirkwall leaned across the granite table and clasped Helena’s outstretched hand. “I will accompany you Warden.”

 

Varric threw his hand in as well, even though it was clear in the expression on his face that he wasn’t looking forward to going back into the Deep Roads. “I’m in.”

 

“Good, then its settled. We sail by the morn. I have a ship that was procured by an old friend and we should be able to sail in secret.” Helena’s weary green eyes lit up with a passionate fire of lovely hues and Hawke could tell that this was going to be a wild ride.

 

 

 

 
______________________________
 

 

 

Chapter 2: (Part 1) The voyage to Ferelden

 

- - "Somehow I didn't picture peace and harmony involving sea sickness..."

Edited May 29, 2012 by Guest

[Amidala Skywalker]

Aw, she's not queen? C'mon, that's the best ending for DA I.

 

So it's all this mess with the Architect again, eh? I just recently got and played the Awakening DLC and read that book with Maric vs. the Architect. I think it's really kinda weird. LOL. But it will be interesting to see your take on it. I didn't remember all of that about his powers.

 

Just a question...you made it seem like Helena cut off all ties with everyone when she found out the Divine was hunting her, and gave up being a Warden (not that you can really give it up, but yeah). I know a lot can be determined from how you play the character, but I wonder if that's really in her character to do so...

 

I mean, we still don't know what the Divine wants from them. It seems to have something to do with the war, but why look for the Warden and the Champion in the first place? I know you don't want to necessarily make something up, but if you don't, their reactions of going into hiding like the Divine is some monster who wants to kill them might not be believable.

 

Just food for thought.

[Pinckz]

The reason the Warden went into hiding will be explained later, and an upcoming bit will explain a little more. I am sorry it is kind of jumbled.

 

Also, I haven't read the books with Maric and Loghain. I am doing what I can to read spark notes/summaries of those books to help this story along. Same with the later novels/comics like 'Asunder' and 'Silent Grove,' because those are part of the DA universe too and I wanted some part of them in here. That, and I don't have the money to get the actual books so this is all I got.

 

Thank you for the feedback though, I will keep that in mind.

 

EDIT: Oh, and the queen ending might have been the best for you, but I really got into the relationship my Warden shared with another companion. -- (This story is a fanfic, it is a fiction that will have a lot of roots in the core canon story, but will have deviations based on my play through and the amount of resources I have as a writer.)

 

Maybe I'll try writing something that is entirely my own at a later date, but right now I am enjoying writing this.

[Pinckz]

Just an update. I have a rough outline of the next chapter piece, but with a Temp job, art and looking for a more permanent employment situation, I need to take some more time on other things. I will still update from time to time, but because I don't have that big of a reader list and I am busier nowadays, I am not as focused on it. Thank you. I will have more up later.

[Travis]

I should have responded to this long ago, but I had to run to work when I read it and forgot about it upon returning. Nonetheless, I have read it and found only a few small issues.

 

“Well, we are in a relatively private place. Would you please do us the honor of…de-cloaking?”

This isn't science fiction. I recommend something other than "de-cloaking" be used. Perhaps along the lines of "do us the honor of lowering your hood" or something like that.

 

I passed the ruler ship of my land to my brother in my absence and haven’t returned in several years.

You need only to say "I passed the rule of my land. . ."

[Pinckz]

So it is a bit rough, but here it is...

 

((The 'things to know' section will be up later. In the meantime, if you have any specific questions, please let me know. ))

 

 
 

 

 

_____________________________________________ [[[ STORY ]]] _____________________________________________

 

 
 

 

 

 

Chapter 2: (Part 1) The voyage to Ferelden

 

- - "Somehow I didn't picture peace and harmony involving sea sickness..."

 

The moon began to sweep its pale, luminescent embrace upon the open seas. A single ship rested upon the tide within the white glow and rocked peacefully in the evening breeze. The waves that played quietly beneath seemed a small consequence of the ship’s movements, but their whims were their own. Their small cracks against the base of the hull were small and went unheard. The mists that broke from the waves as they played rose into the sky and filled the air with glittering shards of light.

 

A smiling elf, outfitted in black leathers and a full length black cloak, stood at the helm and controlled the ship. He was a little taller than a normal elf, and something about his stance suggested he was accustomed to a craft of more finesse than sailing a ship. But he wore a rogue-ish smile beneath the cowl of his cloak and watched as the crew scurried about on deck.

 

Helena walked out of the lower decks and made her way up the stairs toward the ship’s wheel near the stern of the ship. Her carrot red hair shone beautifully under the moonlight and framed her face within a halo of crimson. Her emerald eyes were relatively dim under the canopy of hair that hung from her forehead, but she still looked toward the elf with a brilliant smile of gleaming pearl. “Thank you Zevran. I really don’t know what I would have done without you.”

 

Zevran’s smile intensified in response, “Warden, I would do anything for you. That’s what friends are for.” He clasped the wheel harder and maneuvered it a little, sending the ship veering past a large rock formation.

 

“What have you been up to in the years since the Blight?” Helena asked, her eyes watching the night sky as it floated by. Her green tunic flapped softly as the wind accelerated, accenting her words with a small, but unintentional repetition.

 

“Well, to make a long story short, I’ve been traveling the world and enjoying all of life’s pleasures. I don’t rely on the Crows to safeguard my freedom anymore and I am open to any morality I choose. It truly is a wonderful life when you don’t have too many things to worry about.” Zevran said. His words were genuine, and in all the time Helena knew him, the elf looked truly happy.

 

“Aren’t the Crows still looking for you though?” Helena Cousland asked curiously, her eyes turning from the sky to look at her friend as he stood, occasionally adjusting his stance to shift the steering.

 

“Yes and no,” Zevran started while looking at Helena intently. “Some of the Crows have a vendetta against me, but once I killed a majority of their organization, there weren’t too many people to come and find me. I have thoroughly embarrassed them to the point that they do not wish to trouble with me anymore as an organization. So the few people who do wish me harm aren’t considered Crows anymore. And as such, they don’t have the amount of backing required to find me.” Zevran winked and then stopped to look at another woman as she came up from the deck to join them. “Well, if it isn’t Hawke, the second woman to save me from a violent fate. It seems to be a growing trend, doesn’t it?”

 

“Hello Zevran, nice to see you again.” Hawke said with a sarcastic lilt to her tongue, looking toward Zevran with a smile. Her blue eyes glowed deeply in the moonlight. The clarity of her cream colored tunic played with the dark brown of her corset as her black hair clashed with the whiteness of her skin. Her gaze adjusted to the Grey Warden at Zevran’s side and her smile stiffened. “You and I need to talk, preferably alone.”

 

Helena looked back at Hawke with a note of accommodation in her body language, but suspicion consuming her thoughts. The Warden scanned Hawke’s face to see if she could decipher what the Champion wanted, but it wasn’t very easy. Hawke left the request open and her eyes never faltered. So Helena gave in and nodded respectfully. “Alright, pardon Zevran.”

 

The elf quietly obeyed her dismissal and watched as the two walked toward the starboard side of the ship. Helena swallowed a little and tried to avoid Hawke’s prying glance at first, but eventually she met the Champion’s cool blue eyes.

 

"So, is it Warden, or Helena?" Hawke said, flatly.

 

“Warden is fine,” Helena said quietly; her tone suddenly more mature than it had been when she was talking with Zevran.

 

“Alright, Warden, what did you do after the Blight? I’ve heard stories from my friends, but none of them really cover what you did afterward.” Hawke’s gaze was imperturbable. Her curiosity was clear in the intonation of each word she spoke, but what Helena couldn’t get, was why.

 

“I don’t know what it will do for you, knowing my past, but sure.” Helena said, sighing and resting her arms on the ship’s railing. “After the Blight ended I was consumed in the bliss that peace usually brings. Leliana and I traveled the world and saw things I’ll never forget. She and I were allowed to explore our faith and entertain fantasies that made life better for both of us. But like all good things, our love wasn’t meant to last. She was called to Orlais by the Grand Cleric a year or two after the end of the Blight and ever since then, I have had an ache lingering in the pit of my stomach that I can’t get rid of. Everything reminds me of her.”

 

“Leliana? The Divine’s agent Leliana?” Hawke asked, her eyebrows rising to the edge of her hairline.

 

“Divine’s agent?” Helena responded, her eyebrows echoing Hawke’s. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well I met a Leliana once, well twice. She went by another name, ‘Sister Nightingale,’ and when I asked her about her affiliation with you; she said she shared an intense bond with you.” Hawke said, turning her face to the sea.

 

Helena smiled a little, but glistening crystal tears showed her true intent. Knives burrowed their way into Helena’s stomach and the Warden was close to collapsing in on herself.

 

“Well, what did you do after that?” Hawke continued, trying to diffuse the tension.

 

Helena noticed the gesture and tried to push her thoughts inside. She held her hand up to her eyes in an effort to remove her tears, but they were persistent. “I kept traveling. Eventually I was asked to take charge of the Warden Outpost near Amaranthine and that is where this whole mess with the Architect started. I met Anders, Nathaniel, Sigrun, Justice, and Ohgren although I am not sure I wanted to see Ohgren again, to be honest.” The warden tried to choke a laugh out, but the resulting sound was more of a squeak.

 

Prrrr…. Meow! A small orange tabby cat rubbed lovingly against Helena’s leg. It seemed to occupy itself with rubbing its head up and down until Helena finally picked it up and started petting it gingerly.

 

“Aw, Ser Pounce-a-lot, I didn’t see you there.” Helena said, massaging the cat between his ears and holding him up to chest level so Hawke could get a look. “This is Ser Pounce-a lot. He was Ander’s cat while we served together in Amaranthine and when he was asked to give him up, I started taking care of him.” She continued petting the cat for several minutes until the cat jumped down of his own accord.

 

“Anyway,” Helena continued, as Ser Pounce-a lot started chasing after a tired Mabari Warhound. “After I let the Architect go free, people called my faith and honor into question. They told me I betrayed the order I belonged to and even though I helped to save hundreds of people at Amaranthine, no one in the order seemed to acknowledge it. It was tragic, but nothing I could fight to get rid of. The lull of darkspawn activity only heightened their fear and soon, a society that was so used to fearing darkspawn, used that energy and focused it somewhere else. A lot of the Grey Warden resentment from Loghain’s push for power started to re-emerge and was only really stifled by the increase in mage and templar tension”.

 

Hawke seemed pensive for a moment or two, contemplating everything she heard, and trying to understand it all. Then she looked back toward Helena with the same curiosity from before.

 

Helena had taken time from their conversation to watch the sea roll by, but when she met Hawke's eyes again, she could see Hawke's blue eyes catch the starlight. Hawke's hair was blowing in the low wind and the accent of her dark hair against her bright skin made her look so beautiful. Helena paused for a moment, trying to calm her thoughts, but something of Hawke’s confidence and beauty reminded her of better times.

 

“What happened to all of the others though?” Hawke asked, searching ever more into Helena’s willing mind.

 

“Well, to keep a long story short: Sten went back to the Qunari and I haven’t heard from him since. I’ve seen Zhevran occasionally, most notably a few weeks ago when he and I commandeered this boat, and I still write to Allistair. Morrigan disappeared into an elluvian and I couldn’t even begin to describe where she is. The last time I saw Wynne was in Amaranthine, but the last I heard was that she was traveling with Shale.”

 

Hawke muttered something to herself, but Helena didn’t catch it. She was too busy admiring the thickness of the wood on the starboard side of the ship, because she abandoned trying to stave off her earlier impulses.

 

Hawke smiled a little, remembering some of her own encounters with the ancient elven mirror, but something still lingered in the back of her mind. She turned to look at Helena who seemed to be busying herself with observing the deck beneath her feet. “Warden? What are you doing?”

 

Helena looked up with wide eyes, but quickly shielded herself with a cleverly worded fib. “Nothing.”

 

Hawke only smiled. “Okay…”

 

Helena saw the look that Hawke gave her and couldn’t help but crumble. Her defenses had a lot of holes.

 

“So, if you were accused, by your order and the people of Thedas, of betraying your order how did you cope with it? Why are you hiding from them?” Hawke asked, watching as Helena went back to admiring the woodwork.

 

Helena swallowed hard and almost couldn’t get rid of the lump that got stuck there. Some of her story was based on assumption and other parts were built off of a fear that she wasn’t yet ready to admit to herself. However, if they were to be traveling together, Hawke deserved to know the truth.

 

“One day I was captured by the Orlesian Chantry when I was traveling through the countryside looking for Leliana. I asked time and again where Leliana was, but they refused to tell me. They said they were preparing for a war and needed me to help lead it. They didn’t buy the stories of my supposed betrayal and wanted me to help them unleash a whirlwind of destruction all across Thedas in the Maker’s name. The Divine is ready for a war against the mages and they are gathering a force the likes of which I’ve never seen before. Meanwhile, their counterpart to the north is preparing for an offensive of their own. Their battle is going to tear the veil asunder and who knows what else; whether you and I are at the lead or not.”

 

“Why would they want me?” Hawke asked incredulously. “I’ve been nothing but trouble to the Chantry for all the time I spent in Kirkwall.”

 

“This is true, but they want you and me for our experience against mages and our prowess in battle. They will pardon you of your crimes against the Maker if you repent and join their cause. They wish for me to stand as a beacon of the faithful. However, I don’t believe the way they do.” Helena’s tone hardened. Her expression was serious and the tears on her cheeks, although slightly dried, added to the image of the hero that the Champion had heard tales about.

 

“The Maker, as I have come to understand him, is a benevolent individual that rewards and punishes based on the deed that is done and the evident motivation behind said deed. He doesn’t seem like a god that would reward destruction as was evident with his turn away from mankind when the Tevinter Imperium ruined the golden city and when Andraste was betrayed by her mortal husband.

 

"I am aware that there is a precedent set for exalted marching, because the Chantry has done it in the past, but every mage that was mistreated has fled to either escape the Chantry’s wrath or to seek revenge by joining the Imperium. I agree that magic is meant to serve man and not rule over him, but when do we draw the line? When do we stop the bloodshed and when does hatred stop ruling over our actions?” Helena’s lines were profound and the questions that she asked were very similar to questions that Hawke had asked herself a few days prior.

 

Hawke’s face softened, to grant contrast to the Warden’s righteous zeal. “We’re kind of alike you and I. You like to save the world from people who are too driven by hate for their own good and so do I. You just do it for a broader range of people while I do it to save those I care about.”

 

Helena smiled and clasped Hawke on the shoulder. “Oh, I do it to save the people I care about too. I just care about more people. “

 

The two of them laughed to themselves and for a few moments, enjoyed the beautiful serenade of lights on the water.

 

“Where’s Varric?” Helena asked.

 

“Oh, he’s been confined to his cabin for several hours. He’ll come out in a while and puke again…” Hawke responded with a playful grin. She was interrupted - of course - by Varric. He shambled out of the lower decks and waddled up to them with his hands rubbing at his tender stomach. His complexion was hard to make out under the moonlight, but Hawke could tell he was a bit paler. He seemed a little thinner, and his brow was drenched in sweat.

 

“How do you two do it? I just can’t oh- Mak-“ Varric’s hands leapt to his mouth and he ran for the starboard side of the ship. Then, when he finally got there, he removed his hands and wretched. He left his food for everyone to see as it fell into the ocean.

 

“Well my family and I used to take a boat ride to visit other noble families across the sea when I was younger. So I’m used to it.” Helena stated matter-of-factly, trying to shield her gaze from even accidentally seeing the result of Varric’s sickness.

 

“I have been out on Isabella’s boat a couple of times. It’s nothing fancy, but I’ve earned my sea legs through a hard won month of sea sickness. You’ll just have to tough it out.” Hawke replied with a wink before she tried to shield herself as well.

 

“I’d rather be on solid land.” Varric stated with the last bits of his dinner clinging to the edges of his mouth.

 

“Oh quit your griping,” Hawke said clapping him on the back. “We’re almost there.”

 

Varric listened, but the force of her gesture caused him to wretch again.

Edited January 19, 2013 by Guest

[Travis]

The moon began to sweep its pale, luminescent embrace upon the open seas; a large glowing white marble rising from the watery depths of midnight blue.

If a semicolon is meant to divide two sentences that are together, then you should look at the second part and try to imagine that as its own sentence. It has no subject or verbs and is not a sentence, so you need to do something different with it. Honestly, I would drop something there because the entire second part is too flowery and looks like you are trying too hard to be poetic or artsy.

 

He clasped harder on the wheel and maneuvered it a little, sending the ship veering past a large rock formation.

He clasped the wheel harder.

 

“Yes and no.” Zevran started, looking at Helena intently, “Some of the Crows have a vendetta against me . . .

You should have a comma after "no" in the first quote, then a period after "intently" right before the second quote. You also might want to remove the comma after "started" and add "while" in its place to read like this:

"Yes and no," Zevran started while looking at Helena intently. "Some of the Crows . . . ."

 

“Aw, Ser Pounce-a lot, I didn’t see you there.”

Missing a dash in that name.

 

“The Maker, as I have come to understand him, is a benevolent individual that rewards and punishes based on the deed that is done and the evident motivation behind said deed. He doesn’t seem like a god that would reward destruction as was evident with his turn away from mankind when the Tevinter Imperium ruined the golden city and when Andraste was betrayed by her mortal husband.

 

I am aware that there is a precedent set for exalted marching, because the Chantry has done it in the past, but every mage that was mistreated has fled to either escape the Chantry’s wrath or to seek revenge by joining the Imperium.

You need a quote at the beginning of that second paragraph since Helena is still talking.

 

“Oh quit you’re griping,” Hawke said clapping him on the back.

Your, not you're.

 

A good solid piece that helps fill in some of your Warden's past and sets up the character. Just a note of caution here: you made a reference to Hawke seeing Helena as beautiful, be careful. Having Helena a lesbian (or at least, having been in a lesbian relationship with Leliana) is fine, but having both of them as lesbians is pushing the credibility line into "teenage boy fantasy" realm.

[Starfire]

It was meant to be Helena thinking that Hawke is beautiful, so I will fix that. As to the other adjustments, I will make them shortly.

 

((Oops... I mean to say this as Big Will. Silly me.))

[Pinckz]

Chapter 2: (Part 2) Past mistakes, Present troubles

 

"Hopefully..."

 

________________________

 

<< coming soon >>

[Pinckz]

((I think I am going to change this a little, just to see how it goes. I am pretty sure all of this will be re-written later when I have time, because all of these chapters are a little rough, but I am going to see if I can write it from Hawke’s perspective, because she is the main character of focus in these stories.))

 

 

((The Need to Know Section will mainly be based off of user questions, because I don't know what to say as far as filling int he blanks. If you would like to know more, please send me a PM. However, I would like you to keep in mind that there may be spoilers (please see above).))

 

((Also, I know there are a lot of comments made out of the dialogue itself, but please take it easy on me. I have been gone from this FanFic for a little bit so if I mess something up or this isn't the most refined piece of literature you see, please feel free to comment and critique. Just don't beat me over the head with it. (Please.) ))

 

 

_________________________________________________

 

 

Chapter 2: (Part 2) Past mistakes, Present troubles

 

"Hopefully..."

 

 

The morning was fresh in the air: dew was forming on the ground, a thin veil of fog hung low on the waves, and the youth of green that spread around the shore tickled the air with the scent of wet grass. The smell of grass, mingled with the smell of wet dog, and the smell of the Waking Sea itself were in so many ways the greatest things that gave Ferelden distinction. The smell of the land gave it the character that so many people in Thedas knew and loved; or, maybe that was just me. It wasn’t the smell that drew us there however. Our small ship took a hasty, but efficient and subtle route to the coast. It flew no colors – to avoid detection - and sailed in to a well maintained dock owned by Helena’s Family.

 

The ship, which had sustained minimal damage during its long voyage, was moored at one of the rarely used docks in the Cousland’s country of Highever. As I figured out earlier - on our voyage over - Helena’s brother Fergus, who was now Teyrn of Highever, left us a formal but discrete welcome. Helena didn’t want anyone else to know about this, but she knew that the crew needed help unloading the ship when they docked. It was a small affair, but her brother graciously agreed to lend as much of a hand as he could to us without drawing anyone’s eye.

 

I didn’t really help with the unloading. In fact, after spending a great deal of time in my quarters with Varric – the delightful, but pale, green, seasick dwarf – I was the first one to get off of the ship. I made my way off in a manner most careful; slow, but sure; a few measured steps onto the landing ramp and then a small hop to the ground was all it took. Then I worked my way over to the nearby forest line and hid behind a large tree. It was really nice to be around lots of people now and again, but I kind of wanted some time to myself for a moment or two. I pat the sole of my leather boot against the ground and took a good whiff. Then with a large sigh, I smiled.

 

“It feels good to be back in Ferelden again,” I said to myself. Or, at least, I thought I was talking to myself. Varric wasn’t that far behind me though. When I finished admiring the nostalgia of my homeland, he shambled on the ground in front of me, trying to regain his ‘land legs’ as he called them.

 

I chuckled and poked at the dwarf’s back playfully. When he finally stopped wobbling back and forth, Varric turned to face me. His face was absent of color and absent of life, but even in death he had the most rewarding expression when it came to my practical joking. “I swear Hawke, one of these days…” Varric said cooly. His stare was satisfying, but it was comforting to remember that he was the same old Varric even through his pale green face. I lost so many people in the past few years for reasons beyond telling and it was nice to have something consistent.

 

He was dressed in his normal clothes: a long – for him – brown trench coat with tons of pockets, a red tunic with gold accents, black trousers, heavy black boots, and heavy brown marksman gloves to help with Bianca’s wild kickbacks. His blonde, brown hair was pulled back into a short pony tail and the color was flush from his face. It was hilarious. Bianca was strapped to his back and for the most part, the heavy crossbow was pristine. There were a few scratches at the sides of the square shaped barrel, but that was due to happen with the wear and tear of use.

 

I on the other hand did what I could to dress for defense, style and stealth: I had a long, black boiled leather gauntlet on my right arm and a small black leather glove on my left; I had an ash gray tunic with darker grey trousers that were tight against my legs; I had light leather boots what were as jet black as they could be without ruining the fabric; I had a black cotton mask over the lower half of my face; and I had both of my daggers in a cross sheath on my back with a tight fitting harness. I was ready to go.

 

I smirked and cocked an eyebrow at the dwarf. I placed my gauntlet-ed right hand on my hip and looked at him with a flat, but mischievous stare. “If you want my surprise later then you’ll behave.”

 

Varric, who had turned away for the barest of moments, turned back to look at me with an equally mischievous stare. “Hmm… you know I don’t like surprises Hawke; they’re bad for business.”

 

I winked at him and my smile grew, exposing a small glitter of the white teeth that hid underneath my slightly chapped lips. “You’ll like this one.”

 

I started to walk in Varric’s direction with the intention of pulling yet another prank on him and his glance indicated that he wished to do the same. However Helena, who had drawn her emerald cloak up to remain ‘anonymous’, interrupted us with her arms held up. The gesture was meant to stop us from continuing our conversation and our antics, but she was smiling the whole time, which lent little credibility to her attempts at stopping us. “Quiet you two. We need to get going.”

 

Zhevran waved at the party from the ship and bowed graciously before us without leaving the deck. Previously, after my ‘cold’ questioning, Zhevran stated that he could not come with us. Helena was upset by this, but he told her that he had an engagement in Antiva that he could not avoid and he would arrive a few weeks later if everything went as planned. In the meantime, that left Helena, Varric and I as the only members on the expedition. Varric and I discussed this with her before, but she assured us that there would be someone else waiting for her; hopefully. This particular comment only gave me a marginal level of comfort. To Varric however, it was like placing our heads on the chopping block.

 

“You know what, Hawke.” Varric said, “I think there is something I dislike more than you saying, ‘what’s the worst that could happen.’” He talked as he walked, but jostled a little bit back and forth, still trying his best to regain his footing on solid land. We had horses waiting for us, but they were waiting a little way down the road; hopefully. That meant that, for the moment at least, we had to walk.

 

I looked back at him and smiled. “What would that be Varric?”

 

“The word ‘hopefully’; I dislike the word ‘hopefully.’” He looked at Helena with that comment, or at least he tried to, but tripped momentarily and had to catch himself before he fell to the ground. Bianca was strapped tightly to his back, but he wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to damage her, if he could help it. “This trip is filled with hopefully-s and it is making me awfully wary of what is coming next. I mean for all we know, a giant dancing nug could be walking through the streets of Denerim and hordes of naked female elves could run rampant in the mage tower at any minute, Maker forbid!” Varric paused for a moment and the obvious joke that he laid out was too blatant to ignore, but I laughed anyway. He purposefully embellished the last part of his story and enjoyed as much of my laughter as he could. He always did like making me laugh, even at the little things. “All kidding aside however, who is this person we are meeting, why are we meeting him, and when exactly are you going to tell us exactly how much of a threat this Architect-spawn-thingy is?”

 

Helena laughed at his joke as well, but the angle of her head and the expression on her face told us that she had been expecting that question, or those questions in general. “I think I will answer your questions in reverse order. If you don’t mind.” Helena said. The Grey Warden took a slow, deep breath and decelerated her walk a bit to let Varric - the stumbling dwarf - catch up. “The Architect was a big threat even when I met him a few years ago. He was in charge of a whole slew of Darkspawn and they were at war with another faction of Darkspawn, which the Architect was also responsible for. With any number of darkspawn being able to resist the call of the Old Gods, that makes his and thus their activities unpredictable, and dangerous. Then there is the fact that the results of his goal are entirely too unpredictable. With the blight there is a sense of consistency. Yes, that consistency is filled with death and misery and the years may be off now and again, but there is some degree of peace knowing that it will happen like that. However, the Architect throws a lot of unknowns into all of that. I didn’t realize that at the time when I let him walk, but now I do. He will work on trying to kill all the rest of the Old Gods which, if you are familiar with your Old God tevinter lore, there are two Old Gods left buri…”

 

Helena looked around for a moment and saw three people waving in the background with a set of six horses. Her expression changed rapidly from surprised, to concerned, and then back to happy. It was a little odd and I considered poking her to see if she was having a mental episode, but when I looked around the party, I noticed the three silhouettes in the background. I cocked my head to the side and tried to determine who these people were, but all I could get were blurry shapes. The first light of the early morning broke over the horizon east of the woods and illuminated the three that awaited our party, but simultaneously blinded me to anything other than their silhouettes. One was a man, or looked to be in the bright light. The other was slightly shorter with pointy ears and the last was a short squat figure with two weapon hilts poking out the back, giving an odd shape to its silhouette.

 

Helena waved at them with a surprising enthusiasm and ran the rest of the way to greet them, before we could get another word in edgewise. She was so happy that she completely ignored the fact she forgot Varric and I were even there. Regardless, we picked up the rear, because Varric was suspicious and I admit I was a little thrown off myself.

 

Excited words of nostalgia were exchanged between the group as we approached, and some part of my shorter, smellier counterpart couldn’t help but notice that he had no idea who these people were. Varric took a moment to look at all of them in turn, but still couldn’t decide what was going on. The dwarf at my side decided he had just about enough when he leaned over toward Helena and tapped her gingerly on the shoulder, drawing her attention away from the commotion. “Excuse me Helena. I don’t mean to ruin this valuable reunion for you, but who exactly are these people?”

 

It was weird for Varric to be at a loss for information and knowing a bit about how he did things, I knew that he didn’t particularly care for it. Helena was a little absent minded at the moment though and didn’t answer him until a few more minutes of reminiscing had passed. She turned to face Varric and I and pointed at the first figure in the row as if the lineup was some silly show for someone's amusement. “This is Nathaniel Howe. He is wearing a mask so it is a little hard to tell who he is at first glance.”

 

The tall man came out from the blinding light of the morning sun and removed his black mask. Nathaniel now had a small small beard on his face and looked like he had been in a few more battles since we last met, but once he removed his mask, it was obviously Nathaniel. I took a moment longer than Varric to register who he was and when I finally remembered the crazy time we had in the deep roads, I smiled. “It is nice to see you again Nathaniel.”

 

“It is good to be seen.” He said with a smirk.

 

Helena pointed to the next person in the company; the shorter figure with pointy ears. “This is Velanna, a Dalish elf that I met a few years ago when I was stationed at the Grey Warden outpost near here. The last I saw of her was when we were trying to save her sister, who I haven’t seen in a long while either.”

 

Velanna shuddered a little bit at the mention of her sister, but Helena didn’t notice until she looked at her friend. To be completely honest, it kind of looked like Helena punched the poor elf in the gut and now she was holding back tears. Helena shook her head, put her hand over her mouth for some reason, then hugged Velanna and apologized. “I am so sorry Velanna, I wasn’t thinking straight. We will find her again, I promised didn’t I?”

 

The elf nodded and accepted the hug graciously. She was pretty silent, but she showed a great deal more emotion than the third person in the lineup.

 

Helena pointed to the last member of the newcomers. The figure seemed ambiguous from far away and the silhouette did murder to my eyes, but now that Varric and I were acclimated more, both of us noticed the ‘legion of the dead’ markings on her armor.

 

“This is Sigrun. We met her when we were on the trail of one of the clues that eventually led us to figure out more about the Architect and his plans.” Helena was clearly the only one of the two that showed any excitement. Sigrun seemed mentally isolated from the group and exhibited little physical enthusiasm. Helena frowned a little bit, but remained as positive as she could and let Sigrun join the others on the side of the road. “She originally did not agree with my decision to let the Architect go. In fact, I am a little surprised to see her here. Still, as long as it doesn’t get too crazy, the more the merrier I say.”

 

I took a moment to scan the surly looking dwarf before realizing I was staring a little too long. “Why are there so many here?” I asked, while trying not to sound too offensive.

 

Sigrun, who hadn’t said anything the whole time, was the first to answer, “I came to seek absolution.” Her tone was grave, but peerless. She didn’t hesitate in her delivery and some part of me even seemed to admire her conviction; if only for a moment.

 

“I was asked by Helena,” said Nathaniel from the side of the road. He bowed his head low and smiled in Helena’s direction. Helena accepted it like another friend and nodded back without acknowledging the subtle hint to Nathaniel’s voice. I noticed it though and raised my eyebrows a little bit toward Varric who was writing things down in a small notebook. Why was he writing things down? Well, let’s just say he likes to tell stories, and leave it at that.

 

“I heard that Helena was going to renew her search for the Architect from Nathaniel and I wanted to see if my sister was still alive,” Velanna added and stepped up in between Nathaniel and Helena. “If she is, after all of this is over, I would like to take her away from here. Maybe we could find another Dalish clan and travel with them. I don’t know, but I’d have peace at the very least.”

 

Hearing all of this seemed to offer me more questions than answers but Varric, like he often does, knew exactly what I was thinking. “Well that answers one of my questions, actually two.” Varric said, tucking his notebook under his elbow. “However Helena, you still haven’t told us exactly how much of a threat this Architect guy is.”

 

“He’s a darkspawn, what else is there to think about?” Sigrun said, grunting from the other side of the road, refusing to participate in the group. The metal she wore was cold and hard. Skulls were carved into the majority of the light plate armor to give the entire suit a very gloomy aura, but Sigrun seemed to dwarf that effect, if you pardon the pun, with her attitude. You’d think the Architect did something horrible to her mom or something. I understand the hate toward darkspawn, but people can be pretty evil too.

 

Varric, who was standing at my side adjacent to Nathaniel, Helena, and Velanna, took offense at her words. His tone hardened in answer and his jaw set with irritation. “Well, unlike others in this expedition I do like to know what I am going up against, darkspawn or no.”

 

I looked at Varric with a raised eyebrow, but he didn’t respond. When I finally wrenched him from Sigrun and looked down at him, I saw that he was still trying to look at her past my body. I took his large chin in my one cold leather gauntlet and forced his eyes to look at mine. “Do I need to separate you two?”

 

“Stop, Stop, stop…” Helena bellowed at the group. A large Highever crest greeted the group as Helena pulled her shield out and began pushing it in Sigrun and Varric’s direction. “Knock it off or both of you will have to leave. You can find your own way to die Sigrun, and Varric… I don’t know what you can do, but it won’t be here.” It was only after she said all of this that I noticed the amount of mail she wore underneath her green cloak. Except for a helmet, Helena was decked out in the livery of a templar. Needless to say, I was shocked. I stood for a moment or two and just let my mouth hang, because I thought that it was the only proper reaction.

 

When Helena saw my mouth hanging wide open, she looked at me as if to say, ‘What?’ But when she looked down at her armor gleaming in the morning sun, she realized that she had exposed a little too much. She dropped her guard quickly and shielded herself from the others, trying to cover more of herself with her cloak than humanly possible.

 

When she turned back to everyone, she continued answering Varric’s question from before as if nothing happened."The Architect has the power to rule over darkspawn and resist the Old God’s call. He can rebel against the human race, create his own blight, risk destroying the other Old Gods and waking them up prematurely eventually causing one or both of those blights to happen before they were ‘meant to’ happen, which is extremely dangerous and is one of the reasons we need to find him and kill him."

 

I did my best to listen, but my mind was still trying to piece together the fact that Helena was dressed like a templar. I knew there had to be an answer in there somewhere, despite the fact that my mind seemed to rebound against itself with the uncertainty that hurdled toward it.

 

“I brought Nathaniel,” Helena said, “because one of the things he was doing in Kirkwall when you found him was scouting for the Architect’s position. I guess the others explained why they came to join me, so I won’t try to go into more detail about that.

 

Helena stopped talking for a few minutes and went back to readjusting her armor. The elven woman Velanna had something to say though and stood up with a couple of sizable packages. One was long and wrapped in a crude brown paper. The other was small and not wrapped.

 

“A woman passed through the wending wood the other day Helena, she asked me to drop this off with you, and she said you might know what it was. Oh and I was asked to give this to, ‘the one that accompanies you.’ I assume she meant you Hawke or you Varric.

 

Velanna unveiled a broken stick to Helena and a small metal trinket to me. Helena gasped and reached for the stick with both hands when I just stood silent, hollow tears in my eyes. I eventually held out a frail left hand and held the amulet aloft, allowing the small ruby clasped inside to catch the morning light.

 

“This is… an amulet from my father” I said at last. The shock of seeing something of my Father’s was a little overwhelming, but I managed to re-gain my bearing after a few minutes and rejoin the company. “He left it at our home in Lothering when he traveled. He said it would be a way to keep him close. We never did get a chance to see it again when we fled for our lives.”

 

I took a few more moments to study it closer and aside from a few small scrapes on the side and a small burn mark on the underside of the metal, the amulet was still intact. I slipped the chain around my neck and let it sit there, continuing to admire it while Helena had her own discovery.

 

“How could this be? Morrigan’s Staff! I saw her disappear into the eluvian with it.” Helena jumped around. Or rather she jumped around as much as one could while wearing plate and chain mail on their body. It seemed from afar that she was torn between concern, confusion, surprise, and glee all at the same time. It was difficult to tell what emotion she was portraying, but she had a very expressive face, so she was expressing something.

 

I sighed after another look at the trinket that now clung at my neck; a constant reminder that I did have a family at one point. One question seemed to nag at my heels though. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something was odd and I didn’t want to let it drop. “Who was it that gave you these things Velanna?”

 

Velanna took a few moments to answer, but I could tell that it was more due to lack of information than the fact she was hiding something.

“I didn’t get a good look at her, but she was about my height, maybe taller with feathery shoulder pieces and long horn like appendages growing from her head. At least that is what it looked like. She covered most of her face with a wrapping and I could not read most of it.”

 

The description reminded me of that time I was saved from darkspawn by a dragon and consequently asked by an old woman to deliver an amulet to a mountain. I didn’t know what role she had yet to play in this, but something told me that these gifts weren’t to be taken and left at face value.

 

Varric, who had been all but ignored through the gift exchange now seemed a bit anxious. He had stuff he needed to do back in Kirkwall and although I knew as much, the others didn't. He wanted to try and get this adventure done as soon as possible.

 

His tone was nonchalant, but his words suggested the accuracy of his feelings. He didn’t feel confident about this adventure, and to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t too thrilled about our chances either. “Well, now that that is out of the way, our mission is set and our party is made, let us be on our way to death’s door. Shall we? Or would we like to take a detour at unconsciousness? I hear it is mighty pleasant this time of year?”

 

______________________________________________

 

((Despite popular belief and my own testimony, I am going to finish my other FanFics eventually. I will do what I have to to close them out and make them whole; or as close to whole as they can be. I am also planning on another Fanfic (I know, crazy) that will probably be a bit smaller. I don't know yet. I plan to think about it a bit before I post it. (I know, crazy). ))

 

Chapter 3: (Part 1) Descent

 

"We're on the stairway to death, I hope I brought enough snacks..."

Edited January 19, 2013 by Guest

[Travis]

I tried to respond to this last night, but the site wasn't submitting.

 

Anyway, I don't think there are monkey wrenches in Thedas at this time. I noticed several modern references (b-line also sticks out) and phrases that really shouldn't be part of this.

 

Other than that, you have done well. There is a decent balance of characters and you have plenty of description. I had given up on the idea that you would ever finish this, so it is a good thing to see you post again. I suggest that you focus on only one project at a time. Don't spread yourself out so thinly that it takes months to offer an update. Do one at a time that way you can actually finish them.

[Pinckz]

A great deal of the references and modern slang should be edited out now, if you find any more please let me know.

 

As to my projects, I will move with them as I have time. I don't plan on making a long one, but I plan on making a love story if I can. Yes, it is between a woman and a woman. Yes, I know with my history that is a little predictable, but I want to do it.

 

So there...

[DarthBrendo]

I'm re-reading from the beginning as to be honest, I've forgotten what it was all about.

 

First post.

 

which often hinged on the entire Templar vs. Mage debate

 

Not sure how much critique you want, let me know if I'm going above what you're after, but I should think that you should use the full word, versus, or change it to say Templar or Mage debate, or something similar.

 

Chapter 2 Part 1

A single ship rest upon the tide within its white glow and rocked peacefully in the evening breeze.

This doesn't make sense grammatically, as you're switching tenses. I think a single ship rested...would work ok however.

 

under the canopy of bangs that hung from her forehead

 

This sentence, bangs' specifically, makes me grimace. bangs just doesn't fit the tone of the story. I thin just using plain old 'hair' works sufficiently here. Bangs is to modern/Earthy to use in this I think.

 

“So, Warden or, Helena is it?”

 

This feels really clunky to me. I gather that the question is whether to address her as Warden or Helena, but the way you've worded it sounds really laboured. I'd go with a simple "So, is it Warden, or Helena?" But that's just me.

 

Ch. 2 Pt. 2

 

“I think I will answer your questions in reverse order, if you don’t mind.” Helena said.

The first period should be a comma.

 

This is Velanna, a dalish elf

Dalish needs to be capitalised here as you're referring to her race.

 

“He’s a darkspawn, what is there to think about?”

 

I think it needs to be what else is there to think about?, as the fact he's a Darkspawn is a factor implying there may be others.

 

Skulls were carved into the majority of the light plate armor to give the entire suit a very gloomy aura, but Sigrun seemed to dwarf that effect, if you pardon the pun, with her attitude. You’d think the Architect did something horrible to her mom or something. I understand the hate toward darkspawn, but people can be pretty evil too.

 

I'd either remove 'if you pardon the pun' completely (which is what I would do as I don't think it's necessary, and is too modern, and out of character to fit in), or rework the entire first sentence to not be a run-on sentence. Also, the second sentence doesn't fit in either I don't think, certainly not with mum, which sounds too informal to fit in with the vibe of the rest of the story. Mother, though overly formal to us, would be a more natural fit I think.

 

...and resist the Old god’s call

 

Either capitalise God in this context, or un-capitalise old. Personally, I'd go with Old God, as it seems to fit better with the context.

 

I knew there had to be an answer in their somewhere; despite the fact that my mind seemed to rebound upon itself with the mass of uncertainty that propelled toward it.

 

There, not their. Also, i think the semi-colon should only be a comma. I could be wrong though.

 

Oh, and I was asked to give this to, ‘the one that accompanies you’ I assume she means you Hawke or you Varric

Remove the first comma, and put a period between you and the end quote mark to end that sentence. "I assume she means...." should be a new sentence. Also, this sentence is in past tense, so means should be meant...or maybe assume should be assumed...or both. Grammar is not my strong point, but I know something needs to change.

 

“This is… An amulet from my father”

Un-capitalise 'an' as it's not a new sentence.

 

I took a few more moments to study it closer and side from a few small scrapes on the side and a small burn mar

"Side" should be "aside".

 

Helena jumped around, or jumped around as much as one could with a lot of plate and chain mail on their body, and had a massively mixed expression on her face.

 

I'm not quite sure what purpose this sentence is supposed to serve. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense though.The first comma should be a period, while 'massively mixed' doesn't work grammatically, or contextually to the 'universe' you're writing in...it's again, to modern. You also don't wear 'a lot' of plate and chain mail. You either wear it or you don't, so far as my understanding goes (though Travis would have done more research on that with his novel than I would have knowledge of.

 

I'd go with "Helena jumped around. Or rather she jumped around as much as one could while wearing plate armour and chain mail and a face full of mixed expressions."

 

To be honest, though I'm enjoying reading it, this feels like a first draft to flesh out the ideas, as there isn't a great deal of monologue going on, detailed descriptions etc. Though, I'm a real stickler for detailed description, as Travis and many other authors from years gone by can attest.

[Pinckz]

Edits done, thank you Brendo. It is nice to know that Travis isn't the only one reading this.