First MeetingZara walked quickly across the courtyard toward the sounds of combat; the rhythmic clanging of weapons louder as she got closer. Just around the corner near one of the small gardens, her brother and several young nobles were engaged in fierce battle. Alaren stood in the center, chest bare, sword raised. She could see the telltale shimmer of magic around him, a barrier to blade or spell.
Three others ringed him, testing his defense with their weapons. One she knew, Ser Remal, but the other two she could not name. Both had dark hair, one a little taller than the other and blue eyed. They were noble fosterlings, she was sure, but no one she had met. That was no surprise. Most of her days were spent in one room or another beneath the strict gaze of a tutor. Magic, history, lineage, geography, dance, literature . . . there was always something. Today was Midsummer and sh
Heart and Home, ch4
The smell of scorched stone hung in the air as the Chantry smouldered behind them. The groans of dying templars sickened her. Carver . . . it could have been him so easily. Hawke pushed the thought away and choked back a wave of nausea. The Chantry could be rebuilt, but these lives were gone forever. Riese didn't look at the bodies, instead focusing on her friend.
Anders sat hunched on a crate, eyes downcast. She wanted to scream at him, to cry, to run . . . but she couldn't do any of those things. She had to lead now. Hawke walked to him, maintaining a brittle calm. "There is nothing you can say to me that I have not already said to myself," the apostate told her, voice wavering between confidence and regret.
"I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the justice all mages have awaited." Anders sounded l
Heart and Home ch. 3
"What are you going to do," Fenris asked pensively. Hawke ignored him for the moment, fumbling with the straps on her armor. She rarely bothered to wear the set of light plate, preferring robes to the jutting breastplate, spaulders, gauntlets, and sabatons. If she was putting them on, it meant she expected trouble. Trouble and templars, thought Fenris coldly.
"Riese?" he persisted. She tightened the strap on her spaulder, pulling the chunky piece tight against her shoulder and then looked at him. "I don't know. I have a bad feeling . . . I want to be ready for anything." The elf sighed and stood up, taking the mage's gauntleted hand. "If you're going to wear armor, you should at least put it on right. Here." He fixed the latches and went over the rest.
Hawke was far from helpless, but when it came to armor she was like raw recruit.
Intro: The Source, pt3
The sun had yet to crack the horizon, though the sky had taken on a lighter hue. Two warriors sit on chairs before a map of West Hill, planning. Darn plays with the candle flame, glancing at the map. "From what I know, Sir Modry lives at the end of the row of this street," he points at an alley in the Finra district. Only the nobles and a few wealthy merchants live there; insulated from rest of the city by walls. Zara looks at the area, "That's where the letter we found says to go for the auction."
Darn nods, fingers crossing the flame again. "You found the same note we did?" Zara gives him a look, "I tried to tell you that yesterday. Yes those men had it, the cultists in Beggar End." The elven champion leans his chin on fist, looking at Zara calmly. "It seems this noble sends notes to various groups." She shrugs, less concerned about that and more with
Heart and Home, ch2
Fenris woke, surprised to find himself alone in Hawke's bed. There was no sign of the mage. Riese's mabari looked up from his spot by the fire and almost seemed to grin. The elf couldn't help but smile back. He bounded out of bed and threw on some clothes. Hawke was most likely in the library; she wouldn't have run off without telling him. Not again, anyhow.
A quick search of the library yielded him nothing. Bodahn and Sandal were nowhere in sight either. Fenris poked his head into the kitchen, almost relieved to find Orana bent over a hot stove. The Tevinter elf looked up, annoyed, "What is it now? Oh, you again. Did the mistress send you for breakfast?" Fenris sighed. Always this. It didn't matter how many times Hawke explained that she was no magister, Orana refused to accept it.
"No," he told her, frowning.
Quest Intro: The Source, pt 1Darn's letters to Zara
There were three bandits on the road near Denerim. We didn't get along very well
I found an interesting bug on the road. It is black with a funny horn. Father would know what it is but I don't I took him with me for you to see him as well.
Rain again mixed with snow; I had to stay in the Merry Mabari tavern for a night.
The bug died, I am so sorry. I will try to find another if I can and bring him to you.
I am getting closer to West Hill. Merchants are avoiding this place for some reason, maybe it is not very alluring after the war.
Nice walls, I guess But this place smells from miles away even to me. Not that I am complaining but it is odd, when something smells worse than rotten fish at the Docks in Kirkwall. I will get the cargo, fetch it to arl and be back in Denerim in no time . . .
Meanwhile in Denerim
I check at the gates every day
Intro: The Hearts of Children
Sometimes I wake, sometimes I sleep. I can't tell which is which anymore. The only constant is pain, a sense of loss. The eternal present is a torment I want to forget. I wish I was dead. Sometimes I think I am.
It is a long, cold journey to Orlais. The roads are bogs of mud that even the horses refuse to tread, forcing detour after detour. Once across the border, the chevaliers eye Kyle with disdain. No true knight, they laugh as they pass. Somehow, Kyle knows where they are going. Not to Val Royeaux, but to a small hold north of there along the Imperial Highway. Moss covered, stone blackened by an old fire, it stands sentinel, alone on the grassy plain. There are no merchant wagons here, no stables or inns. Just endless brown grass and the faceless walls of the keep.
Kyle's expression is grim. He whispers ony, "Mother," and r