Templar's Bane

“What has happened can never be reversed. Time is beyond our reach, and we, like unwilling travelers, must walk its paths…”

The evening sun shone dully as it began to sink below the horizon, its golden rays transforming into a spectrum of sickly orange to a dull red. It was in those final moments, before darkness completely consumed its light, that the last rays reflected off metallic creatures, collapsed in huddled masses with red smeared across their gleaming surface. Two bodies lay cooling under that evening sun, Templars adorned in blood splattered armor. Their own blood. It was a grisly scene; charred flesh and boiled blood had oozed out onto the forest’s floor, soon to attract all manner of creatures.

A single figure, bedecked in simple robes and a traveler’s cloak, stared blankly down at the fleshy lumps beneath the forest canopy. Words were uttered in prayer, condolences for the dead upheld even between enemies, as the sun finally disappeared behind the towering peaks of the nearby mountains. Both dead stared lifelessly up at their killer, cursing the creature who had melted their flesh with bouts of flame and lightening.

“It was my life or yours.” The wind caught the words as nothing more than a whisper, dispelling their fragile forms against the icy mountain air.

Movement between towering pines soon disturbed the forest’s hushed tranquility; the steady march of the alabaster traveler, wandering away from the recently deceased, and the soundless creeping of a darker creature, fangs dribbling in anticipation of a new meal, shattered the silence. Staff in hand, the human wayfarer carefully made her way through wooden glens, the soft glow of flame held in the palm of her hand lighting the way. She was a Magi, a citizen of Thedas who could directly influence the world around them.

“Go with the Maker’s blessing, Kaelín,” a scratchy voice whispered in memory, bringing back vivid memories and a foul taste. Tumbling down into recollection, the young mage wandered the woods blindly, her mind bound instead to the past.

“It is time,” she had told herself, readjusting the pack strapped to her back and the traveler’s cloak draped across her shoulders. The smell of old leather found its way to her nose, relighting memories of adventures past and old experiences. But she shook the thoughts from her mind, instead steeling herself for what was to come; becoming an apostate was no small feat of skill. Kinloch Hold’s stony confines lent no comfort to the mage as she walked its corridors, avoiding the hawk-like gazes of iron clad Templars; men and women who were more of her prison-guard than her protectors.

Friends, and the only family she truly had, glanced her way as she walked by, silent nods saying what words could not. ‘Good luck and farewell, my friend’ was written across their faces before they too turned away from her, returning to some ancient tome or impatient apprentice. She had not been expecting some grand farewell, but somehow her departure felt empty, devoid of some key emotion that would lighten her heavy steps. But none came. Each second felt like an eternity and every step weighed as if all the world sat upon her shoulders, but freedom was worth it. No longer would she suffer under the gaze of the Chantry; she would not be their prisoner for any longer. And if the price of freedom meant leaving everything she held dear… Then so be it. But that was before everything changed…

Having consumed whatever light had been left, the night’s darkness soon brought the mage to a halt, her blue eyes searching the area for a suitable campsite. The Frostback Moutains were not a place to be taken lightly, much like all of Ferelden. Magical wards were set by dim moonlight, checked and re-checked before Kaelín dared to rest. Her encounter with the armored Templars had left her feeling drained; it had taken all her energy to prevent cold steel from drawing blood. They had taken her unawares, using the only spells Templars knew to negate her wards.

She had learned, however, and would not make the same mistake twice. Carefully she constructed her wards, special magic that if disturbed, alerted her to the danger. They could be tampered with, but not without warning their owner. It had neared midnight when she finally finished. Her hands shook and her head throbbed as Kaelín let the frozen ground rush up to meet her. The mountain air was ice cold, but she had not the energy to lift a hand to start a fire; instead she wrapped her cloak about her and curled up upon a bed of needles, the towering pine offering protection from the starting snowfall. Sleep was then soon to claim her.

"There is no certainty in this world Dario, only opportunity exists...and only those who seize it truly live."

By the time Dario had stumbled across the bodies, the Frostback Mountains were held within the dark embrace of night, the clustered trees not letting even the moon's light grace the forest floor, as such, Dario quite literally stumbled. It was only after lighting his lamp did he realize what he had stumbled over. The yellow light was muted by thin sheets of glass, casting an orange-yellow glow across the ground. The trees seemed to cower slightly in the light. What little snow made it through the canopy had collected in the small clearing, covering everything in a thin layer of powder. Dario followed his own footprints up to the point where he tripped, and gasped at the sight.

Hazel eyes widened in shock of the sight, two Templar, dead in the woods with nobody else around, and no real sign of who or what killed them. Dario didn't care who was responsible or why the deed was done, he just knew that dead Templar attract unwanted attention. He gathered up as much loose brush and dried wood he could find in the surrounding area.

By the time he had finished dragging the bodies on top of the pile of debris the moon was staring down directly onto the clearing, its blue glow reflecting off of what snow remained undisturbed.

With a flick of his wrist, Dario emptied what little spare oil he had upon the dry debris, and struck flint and steel together. As oil melded with spark, and fire consumed wood and straw, the clearing was bathed again in light, the orange luminescence devoured the soft light of the moon, and showered Dario in a blaze of red. His white tunic glowed brightly beneath his leather pauldrons, and his tanned skin shone orange in the light of the fire and gave his gaunt features a haunting appearance in combination with the raven feather hood he wore. His gloved hands were clenched at his sides, the right dully reflected the dancing flames due to the metal cestus attached to his glove. His left arm was shrouded in a cape that matched his hood in materiel, it hung from his shoulder and fell to his waist, covering only his arm and side. His legs were covered by a pair of thin leather trousers that were tucked into high heeled leather boots that came up to his knees. Around his waist he wore a brilliant red silk sash, the loose end was tucked back under the many folds of his sash and then left to hang down the side of his leg. The firelight also revealed what appeared to be a long, thin metal chain worn around his waist over his sash, the light of the fire dancing across its many links of metal.

Dario stared at the fire for several long moments before stepping up to the fiery blaze and plucking free a single feather from his cape and tossing it into the fire as he whispered a few words in Antivan.

"In nomine Andraste, Requiescat in Pace."

He turned away before the feather was consumed by the flames, and walked on into the wood. His footfalls remarkably quiet on the needle ridden ground. He walked in silence for some time, not really knowing where he was going, only knowing that it felt right. Dario felt a calling, a need, a hunger, for something. He just didn't know what, but he knew the feeling seemed strongest more often than not here, in the Frostback mountains.

When the moon had reached its peak in the night sky, the whispers started, faint and barely intelligible at first, but increasing in intensity and volume as he kept walking.

"Intruder...." They said, carried by the wind, echoing through the trees.

"Intruder.......Innnntruuuudeeeerrr!"

"Formator Spiritus." Dario cursed as he halted in his tracks and fell into a crouch, his hands balling into fists.

“When all else fails and there is no where left to turn, look within yourself. You might be surprised at what you might find…”

Winter’s icy chill did not prevent Kaelín from tumbling down into the abyss of the Fade, resting somewhere between time and space. The trappings of a mortal life fell away against the onslaught of the supernatural; reality faded from view and the hazy presences of both demons and spirits walked its barren landscape. Incorporeal beings stalked the dreamscape as faint projections, some unknown creature permeating the veil between fantasy and reality. Emerging from the vice-like grip of actuality, the slumbering mage found herself thrust from one danger into a new, more dangerous type. However, she barred herself from true dreaming. Instead, she chose to wander the Fade in solid form; she had no energy for dreams and their demonic counterparts. What she needed was rest.

As time had no meaning, the alabaster traveler strolled between towering structures, twisted and warped not by time, but by a taint. An immeasurable time passed before she had finally stopped to rest, wrapping herself in blanket of empty thoughts and calm silence. Nothing approached, either malicious or benevolent, and slowly she felt her exhausted body heal. Bruised flesh began their sluggish recovery and a labored body found energy return to its burdened limbs. It seemed, however, as soon as the process began, it was halted.

Intruder! Beware, Intruder!

A gentle withdrawal was replaced by violent expulsion, and Kaelín slammed out of slumber like a runner hitting a stone wall. Magical wards screamed in protest as something stepped within their alarmed parameters. They failed to specify who or what happed disturbed their silent watch, but the mage was prepared for nothing short of a demon itself. Life and magic flowed freely into her veins as she stood from her temporary shelter, crouching beneath ivory moonlight and the coming dawn with staff in hand. She felt the familiar hum as the smooth wood reacted to her touch, amplifying her prowess into a single focal point. Maker help those who have disturbed my slumber…

Snow had fallen thick and heavy since Kaelín’s initial rest, and the brief reprieve the mountains had experienced shattered to a new wave of white. The coming dawn also wreaked havoc upon the senses, conflicting with the fading moon to create a twilight born of light and shadow. Peering between the falling snow and shadow, twin orbs of blue searched the mountain base for any sight of the assailant. Nothing revealed itself to her senses, so as the seconds ticked by she resorted to another method. Closing her eyes, Kaelín stretched out her power, tendrils crawling forth with the beckoning of the mind. Gently she probed the surroundings, searching for the absence that indicated a templar. All manner of creatures possessed a magical inkling, a trace of magic that some had little of while others had learned to manipulate it. Templars, however, were a void, an inky black absence in the Fade’s power. They radiated darkness were others radiated light; it was a frightening phenomenon to see. Kaelín, unfortunately, was the only living Watcher, as the Circle of Magi had thusly named her kind, and had never shared the secrets of her power.

Searching the mountain glade, Kaelín did not initially notice anything of importance, but as she extended her search out further she noticed something… strange. The power consumed the senses, becoming an indescribable feeling that left her vulnerable, but only the culmination of the years allowed her to weed through the confusion. Represented in visible color to the mind’s eye, Kaelín saw, intertwined with a human’s earthen tones, was an overlying pattern of something far more vibrant. Never before has she seen such a pattern of color, but the possibilities were few and far between; in the end the alabaster mage put her curiosity aside.

Taking a deep breath of courage, Kaelín spoke clearly into the morning air to the intruder, “It is not particularly polite to hide yourself.”

The whispers did not last long, but still, perched on a branch of a tree, Dario shivered from their bitter chill long after the woods fell silent. The night stretched on as he sat on his rather uncomfortable perch, he spent his time reflecting, as he often did, reflecting, and remembering.

His time of reflection came to an end as more words emanated from the silent wood, only these were shouted words, instead of whispers.

"It is not particularly polite to hide yourself."

Only upon hearing the words of the woman, for the voice was obviously feminine, did Dario dare smile.

"Ah perhaps fortune smiles upon me still." He whispered to himself before dropping to the forest floor and looking around, his hazel orbs scanning the trees. The speaker was not in his immediate line of sight, but he knew she had to be close, so he simply spoke.

"Forgive me, but I wasn't aware that I wasn't alone, well, apart from the whispers I mean."

He hooked a thumb on the inside of the chain that was wrapped around his waist, his other hand lay at his side while his legs were straight although slightly bent, it was a stance that wasn't overtly threatening, but still relaxed and ready.

Golden brilliance sprawled across the tree infested horizon as dawn proclaimed its own glory, the mountain snow reflecting the gilded light. Shadows slinked back to whence they came while the creatures of the night retreated to their hovels, sharp eyes glowing cruelly from beneath the darkness. Together, those that could, watched from their holes at the exchange of those within the blinding light; the trade of words between figures of mankind’s form.

Falling snow tumbled down from the heavens, dancing silently as they plummeted towards their destination, and as Kaelín peered into the mountain grove, the icy ballad was forgotten, like it had countless times before. The alabaster traveler, clutching tightly to a staff in hand, marched determinedly from her cover of pine into the morning light, her blue eyes adjusting quickly to the new glare.

"Forgive me, but I wasn't aware that I wasn't alone, well, apart from the whispers I mean."

Weather-stained cloak dragging across the ground as she stepped forth, Kaelín kept a neutral stance as the traveler presented himself, her eyes aligning to hazel orbs staring back at her. “The whispers are of my doing…”

She smirked, “and apart from keeping me company, they do a fine job of warning me when I have… unexpected company.”

"Ah well, I suppose you could've had worse company cross your path than me." Dario replied before bowing low.

"Dario Cruce at your service, miss?" He said as he came up from his bow.

Sharply she watched the stranger’s movements, and found herself impressed by his manners; the Frostback Mountains were not places commonly strewn with gentlemen. In fact, despite the threat of an ambush and her own internal warnings, the alabaster mage found a smile tugging faintly at the corners of her mouth.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cruce.” She bowed her head, “ You may call me Kaelín.”

The corner of Dario's mouth curled up in a smile. "Well, Miss Kaelín, as strange as it is to find a lone traveler such as myself here in the Frostbacks, I must remark at the oddity of finding a lone mage here."

He waved a hand as he stepped closer. "Ah never mind, I wonder, would you welcome company in your camp on what's left of this bitter cold night?"

Kaelín once again stretched out her sixth sense, and finding no traces of Templar magic, nodded her white head. “You may, though I must make one thing clear…”

She motioned vaguely to the dawn peeking over the mountain tops. “… it is no longer morning, and thus, I will not be staying. You are, however, free to accompany me if you wish to do so.”

“A word of warning, however,” she spoke firmly, the playful countenance blasted away by prudence. “I will not lie... I am being hunted, and my hunters are not likely to abandon their chase. Be warned. These mountains are rife with more danger than simply wolves and I am sure to attract their attention.”

Dario smiled. So she's an apostate, and her hunters are of the steel variety. He nodded in confirmation of her warning.

"If you are referring to the Templars I found earlier, fret not, their bodies will not be found."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “It is unusual to find folk unafraid of those who disapprove of Chantry policy…”

Dario laughed slightly at her suspicion. "Why would I fear someone who doesn't agree with the chantry's views? I assure you you're not the only one, whatever your reasons. Also, as far as the Templars go, I'm not afraid of wolves, whether they be covered in fur or steel. Regardless, I thank you for your invitation to travel; I would welcome some company in this place."

Kaelín’s heart decided the matter of Dario for her mind; she had decided to trust him for the time being. Whether that would turn out to be disastrous remained yet to be seen…

“I would also welcome the company, but I must admit my curiosity. Tell me, if you wish to do so, what brings you to this part of Ferelden?”

Dario nodded in thanks. "Truth be told I don't know myself, I just remember that ever since I first came here, to the Frostbacks, I've had a hunger, a need, a....feeling, to accomplish something, though I've not the slightest idea what....I'll let you know when I find out."

Kaelín gathered her things beneath the base of a towering pine, shouldering the straps of her pack without a word as the cogs of her mind turned. She had felt his hunger when she had first ‘seen’ him, though had not thought to connect it to magic. But the more she searched, the more she was sure that something within him had been… altered.

“How long have you had this… feeling?”

Dario frowned in thought. "I do not know, I would guess about, two or three months, I stay in these mountains because....well, the feeling is strongest here; it feels...right here."

“If you trust the word of a possible apostate, then I will say this,” she said casually, though her brows were knitted in similar fashion to Dario’s. “I have seen something akin to this, once in my lifetime, and that was far from here, near the Kocari Wilds.”

Dario chuckled passively. "Have you now? Interesting. " He stroked his beard with a gloved hand as he contemplated the apostate's words, she had no reason to lie, the fact that she was an apostate didn't make her words any less credible. "Huh, I trust you, if only for the fact that I have no reason not to."

“And you survive that way?” Kaelin asked mischievously, a smirk appearing at the corners of her mouth as she began trudging through the snow.

He chuckled at her comment, a grin splitting his features beneath his hood. "I survive by being....valuable, though it has been harder as of late to find interest in things other than this place."

"Perhaps you can be of some value to me when the time comes..." Suddenly Kaelín found herself grinning, though she quickly smothered the seductive smile. "but that is a matter for another time. For now, let us continue."

Dario laughed aloud at her innuendo. "With a stranger eh? Well, perhaps... we Antivans are known for our....hospitality."

Kaelin chuckled, a mysterious twinkle in her eyes, "You are no more a stranger than I a dwarf."

Dario smiled, he liked this mage already. "Indeed? I'm not sure whether I like the sound of that or not, but, I do admit the mystery surrounding that comment intrigues me."

“In time perhaps I will explain… but for now I must focus on covering as much ground as possible.”

With that, Kaelín’s long legs began to swallow up ground, and she found a renewed sense of energy at the presence of someone who might not try and kill her. Two weeks had passed since she had let Kinloch Hold, hunted as she sprinted towards the mountains, and the constant vigilance left her weakened. However hope was in sight; her destination was almost upon her. As she marched through snow and cold she could practically feel the roar of a fire as she negotiated the terms of lyrium distribution, feel dwarven ale trickle down her throat, and know once again that her brethren were safe.