Fire and Wine (Dragon Age)

[AngelOfTheMourning]

 
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Fire and Wine 
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To fall, at your feet.Oh but for the grace of god go on,And when you kiss me, I'm happy enough to die.
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[Elemental Son]

The night was bitter around him, the smell of sea-salt and something rotten commingling with the fetid air of an unusually cold evening. Fenris breathed in deeply - every free breath, cloying or not, was worth fighting for.


It had come down to fighting for freedom tonight.


Anso had chosen well - perhaps too well. The team who stormed the docks were professional, emptying the cobblestone clearings of enemies with a ruthless precision, unhindered by the slavers' superior numbers.  There were four of them - a balanced team. On the frontline were two - a large man with red hair, who smashed into enemies with a shield so hard that the impact alone was usually enough to incapacitate them, supported by a second man who fought in close quarters with a pair of what looked like short swords. The second weaved around the first with impressive, rehearsed agility. A marksman Fenris couldn't see supported them at the flank, peppering their enemies with projectiles that looked heavier than a normal arrow. Fenris did not have time to identify why they looked different, caught up in his own mission. The team's fourth member seemed to be a woman - Fenris could not identify, in his brief windows of observation, her contribution to the fight.


As their battle raged, Fenris moved quietly around their flanks behind the buildings which enveloped the courtyard, identifying the slaver's second echelon of troops by their clothing. One by one, he killed them with neither remorse nor hesitation, snapping their necks or pulling the blades of his gauntlet across their throats. Although he rarely fought with an emphasis on stealth, here it was necessary. He did not want to endanger the party he had duped into aiding him further by provoking the enemy commander to call in his reserve soldiers ahead of time.


His patrol coming full circle, Fenris snuck up behind what he believed was the last man just as the sounds of combat waned.


"I don't know who you are, friend - but you made a serious mistake in coming here."


Fenhedis. The man moved to call up his Lieutenant, and momentarily distracted, Fenris cut low. It would still be a killing blow, but messier and louder than he would have liked. The man stumbled forward of the building's covered approach, calling for his captain as he bled out. If nothing else, an appropriate introduction.


"Your men are dead, and your trap has failed." Fenris followed him, stepping into the gaunt light thrown by torches bracketed above doorways nearby. "I suggest running back to your master while you still can." Stepping past the astonished bounty hunter captain, casting mutual sight on his benefactors for the first time. Fatigue warred with a sense of gratitude, underpinned with suspicion. They would not be pleased by his deception. His fight may not yet be done. About to address them directly, Fenris paused as a heavy hand gripped his shoulder.


"You're not going anywhere, slave."


The effect was immediate. Fenris felt his blood turn to fire, and that burning transcending the barriers of his flesh to light up his skin. His teeth ground close, and his ears tilted backwards, his breath becoming short as hatred took control of him. It was not by his own will that Fenris cast a hand into the man's chest, fingers closing around his heart. The wet crunch of the organ as Fenris destroyed it was audible above the human's breathless scream, the horror in his eyes concomitant to the knowledge of his own death. Fenris dropped him, fighting back the bile in his own throat as he spat out a response.


"I am not a slave."


The captain's death throes were quick, and left behind a tense silence as the elf and the party stared one another down.

 

[AngelOfTheMourning]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Aveline was fire in the night, her shield a battering ram, her sword a streak of red and silver. Hawke could admire that, but he wouldn’t be outdone. His daggers were hungry teeth and his feet and elbows carried them to their supper. He didn’t care why they were fighting or that it wasn’t supposed to go this way. These moments, these spurts of several minutes when all that mattered was staying alive for another breath, another night however haunted, they made the rest of his life okay. [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]He ducked beneath Aveline’s arm and burst forward. A blade in each throat of the two remaining men. The thump of their bodies and then silence outside of haggard breath. He wished, in a distant way, that he’d killed them one at time because it would have prolonged the fight. He focused on the sensation of the blood on his face cooling and the tinny taste of it in his mouth. [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Big talk from a man who’d just watched his men murdered. A call for back up. Good. He wasn’t done yet. But the leader’s call to arms failed and one of his his men appeared pouring blood. He wanted to just, breathe for a moment and enjoy this little twist but light footsteps drew his gaze away from the carnage. A lean shadow with stars in his skin. He stared for a moment, having never seen anything like him. That hunger in his lower belly heated and stirred but Hawke let it alone. [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]The elf was...god even his voice demanded attention. Giving the leader a chance was odd and Hawke expected to see him run. Instead things happened swiftly then before anyone had time to speak. //I am not a slave// And then something spectacular happened. Hawke could hear his friends gasping behind him at that terrible, wet sound. He fought to suppress a grin. That savagery was...well it only added another hot coal to the lust in him. His tongue flicked out across his lips to taste the blood left there. [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]When the man fell down he could feel the other’s eyes on him, expecting him to ask what was going on. But Hawke instead drug his eyes over the lean black armor and pale hair again before he spoke. Normally, in situation like this, Hawke was aggressive and merciless. Now though, now he didn’t want to be that way. [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Garrett had not felt young since his father had...left their lives. The responsibility of his family, his mother’s expectation, losing everything and now fighting in the streets to make his livelihood. How could he feel young when he’d already lived so many lives? His brother was dead, his sister all but a fugitive and mother that expected grandchildren all made for the feeling he should have been closer to the grave than her was. [/SIZE]



[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]But right now he felt like a teenager. Lusty, strangely hungry and the night was in front of him prepared to split in a thousand directions.  He kept an easy grip on his daggers. “I guess they were looking for you? And I guess I owe Anso a visit.” [/SIZE]

 

[Elemental Son]

"You guess correctly. But save your wrath - Anso hired you on my behalf. Given the circumstances, I'll assume you can understand my need for secrecy." Fenris did not apologise for the deception. If they wanted to make him pay for it, let them come.


The tension between the group seemed to heighten as the silence between them dragged on. The young woman had a look of unguarded mistrust in her eyes. The marksman - a dwarf, Fenris realised, not being overly familiar with the race - had knocked another missile into his weapon, a device for which Fenris had no name. He did not need to know what it was called to see that its point of aim was mere inches off a line to him - a tensed muscle away from releasing a lethal shot. The tall warrior - face hidden by a guard's helmet - had not sheathed his sword. Only the bladesmaster seemed at ease - but the almost caress on the hilt of his weapons said otherwise. The situation could very quickly turn to bloodshed.


Fenris took advantage of the pause to kneel down and check the captain's body. Let them see that he did not fear them. Danarius had come for him again - Fenris would tear any who would aid the Magister apart.


In a leather pouch sewn to the captain's belt, Fenris found a strangely marked map. To all other eyes, it would pose a riddle. To his, it was an invitation. His master had never permitted Fenris to learn to read, but his sometime-role as a bodyguard meant that he had to be taught to understand layouts of buildings, and the symbology which Danarius preferred to mark his plans in. It would not do for his pet to be an ineffective guard-dog simply because he could not understand the structure of a fellow Magister's home.


The symbols etched onto the rough depiction of Hightown left only one conclusion. Danarius had marked the symbol of a stronghold over one of the mansions. The scrawl was in Danarius's hand.


Danarius is here.


The fire in his blood turned to ice, and as he stood, climbed with his pulse back towards roaring rage. Danarius was in the city. Fighting to control his breathing as his adrenaline spiked, Fenris looked towards his benefactors, considering. The assault would not be easy, and they had proven themselves at least competent...


"There are more of them. It seems my former master is in the city. Aid me in killing them, and you're welcome to the lion's share of whatever valuables we find. Danarius is a Magister of no small wealth - it should more than compensate your efforts."

 

[AngelOfTheMourning]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Hawke shifted his stance and once the elf made it clear he wasn’t looking for a fight, sheathed his sword in favor of folding his arms. He was going to get an earful about this later, but he didn’t care.  Bethany and Aveline would no doubt have yet another lecture prepared for him about recklessness and his apparent death wish and the same other three or four points but he couldn’t bring himself to even dread it. This elf was captivating and the mystery of all of it made any potential danger more than worth it. While the yet unnamed elf rummaged through the body’s belongings, Hawke turned over his shoulder to more fully gauge the mood of the group. [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Varric offered a shrug when he noticed their apparent leader looking at him. Then a knowing smirk came over the drawf’s face and he mouthed something rather obscene at Hawke who in return rolled his eyes. Garrett couldn’t  be sure exactly how Varric knew he was a homosexual, but it seemed he’d been able to tell from the moment they met. Aveline was tugging off her helmet to reveal a reddened face and that stern motherly look he’d come to dread. Really they weren’t very friendly with each other. If not for the information he provided for the guard it was perfectly like she’d have disassociated herself by now. She glared at Fenris, then to his bloody gauntlet. “Hawke I think it best we leave.” She murmured at him, taking several steps closer. “Anything to do with Tevinter is not something we need to be involved with.” Hawke nodded but hardly even processed what she was saying. [/SIZE]



[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]And then there was Bethany who seemed more than anything tired. Hawke turned away from her in time to see the mysterious elf reading over a map and then offering them a job. The promise of bloodshed and gold was enough to sell him and the added bonus of learning more about this fugitive slave, let alone fighting beside him (a thought that put a chill down Hawke’s spine) made it an obvious choice. “As long as it pays.” He heard Aveline sort of huff behind him but ignored that in favor of approaching him. “Garret Hawke.” He extended his own gauntlet clad hand. “Regardless of how it is we came to meet, I must say I’m rather glad I took the job.” He gestured for Fenris to lead the way. “This is certainly more interesting than the usual courier mission.” He flashed a smirk. This was going to be a good night. [/SIZE]

 

[Elemental Son]

Accepting the proffered hand with a sure grip, Fenris ignored the agony accompanying the contact, too familiar with the sensation akin to his flesh being carved anew. Instead, he allowed it to stoke to the fury building somewhere in his chest. The blademaster was not the only one who had caught - or been caught by, perhaps - the scent of blood on the wind.


"I am Fenris. If you have been retained as couriers, then your talents have been wasted." This was said without pleasure, without judgement. The party was suited to what he needed to accomplish - he would not permit himself to look forward to the destruction that the task promised. Re-orienting the map towards Garrett, Fenris indicated his basic plan. It had been the Fog Warriors, not Danarius, who had taught him tactics and strategic warfare. More than once, he had accompanied them through the jungles, learning when to hit and when to run. Not every fight was worth initiating. But if his master was in the city, Fenris had no choice. There came a time when it was too late to run.


"This map shows Hightown. We're to the south-east; Danarius will be expecting his men to return, or more likely, myself. I do not believe he would have taught them to read his plans so easily." Tracing a route from the bottom right corner of the map, Fenris narrated. "If we circle around to the north of the mansion he has marked, we may be able to encircle their position. He will have guards posted, and traps. We'll need to take out as many as we can before we go in." He watched Hawke closely for a response - there were plenty of mercenaries who preferred to rush in. With Danarius, that would be a death sentence.

 

[AngelOfTheMourning]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Hawke liked his name, along with everything else about him, and eagerly accepted the map. He recognized the area the house was in, their own would be manor was just around the corner. He studied the placement of the building, the entrances in the same way Fenris had. He rubbed at his jaw and thought. “Have to be at night.” He noted before glancing back at Fenris. He had a large weapon and was obviously capable of putting out a lot of damage judging by his little hand through the chest trick. “You’re a warrior And bringing more than four in my experience has always been tricky.” He turned back to his group.[/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Aveline, you’re excused since you’re so eager to be uninvolved, And send along your cut. Fenris can take point.” He eyes the massive weapon on the thinner man’s back. “Unless that’s just for show.” He smirked and turned back to face Aveline’s inevitable wrath. [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]The woman opened her mouth and his expectations were met. “This is incredibly irresponsible to just run into some Tevinter’s manor. Their magic is evil Hawke and you don’t even know if he’s telling the truth. I…” Hawke rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You will not be a part of it? Precisely why you’re no longer invited.” [/SIZE]



[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]He returned his attention once more to Fenris. “You and I will circle as you said and once we’re in, we’ll have to cut a path for Varric and Bethany. Fighting inside these damn houses isn’t conclusive with range.” He eyed the level of darkness. “We can do it tonight, or put it off until tomorrow. Up to you. But we’re ready.” More than ready, really,[/SIZE]

 

[Elemental Son]

Watching Hawke assess the situation, Fenris could only approve. The human's analysis was quick, decisive, and accurate. It became quickly apparent why Hawke was the one the group followed. That he was willing to attack at night was promising, too - Fenris harboured no intention to let Danarius slip away from his crushing, lethal grasp. As Garrett spoke to Aveline - a woman, Fenris realised belatedly, albeit one the size of a great bear - the slaver captain's blood trickled through the gaps in the cobblestones at their feet, the night shuddering in anticipation around them.


'Unless that's just for show', Hawke quipped. Fenris felt no need to defend his own prowess. Wordlessly, he drew the massive sword over his shoulder, the hilt grasped effortlessly in one hand while he ran the other down the length of the tang of the blade. He had killed a Tal Vashoth mercenary for this - a former member of the Beresaad. The Sten had been cut off from his patrol team, the mercenaries contracted to recover Fenris. Their plan had never come to fruition. Three days without food or sleep he had stalked them, sustained by hatred alone. Fenris had named the blade Lethendralis. It was perfectly balanced, dangerously sharp, and far from just for show. 


Hawke would discover that for himself, in time.


Then the human did something unexpected - he dismissed one of his familiar allies in favour of fighting with Fenris at his side. Fenris watched him, momentarily unsure, trying to puzzle out the logic behind it. Certainly, four was an easier team to wield than five, but was that truly reason enough to augment the team with the skills of a stranger? Garrett trusted easily, it seemed. Hopefully it would not be the death of him, as it had been of others. That dark thought was enough for Fenris to force himself to refocus, to ground himself back in the present. Instead of questioning Hawke's plan for battle, he contributed.


"There may be shades, traps and demons. If you are ready to face them, then we move tonight."

 

[AngelOfTheMourning]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Fenris’ mystery was only growing. The elf, whose rage had flashed swift and hot as lightning only moments before, now was the perfect gentleman. He spoke with a dignified, distinctly Tevinter vocabulary and in his obviously heightened state questioned Aveline’s dismissal with his eyes. It was a bit reckless, Hawke knew, but in the same breath he wanted to fight beside this strange creature, if only for the night. With Aveline there it would be a farce. And despite Bethany’s appearance of fragility, he was certain she could provide enough cover for a quick escape if necessary. [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“To Hightown then.” He flashed a savage smile and started forward, keeping to the side streets lest some over eager group of thugs set upon them. He kept an easy for purposeful pace, ignoring Aveline and his sister’s hushed whispers behind him. Garrett said little, but his eyes wandered here and there, assessing each dark corner for a threat and occasionally treating himself to Fernis’ profile. They passed into High Town with surprising ease and again found the streets to be all but empty. “Told you it was worth tracking those thugs down.” Varric’s smooth voice lured the rouge from his thoughts. “Arguing with you is very ill advised, as usual.” Hawke answered. [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Slavers, demons and a lyrium imbued elf. This is going to make a great chapter.” Hawke rolled his eyes. Varric’s determination to record every instance of their lives together in Kirkwall was strange to say the least though it stroked Hawke’s ego a bit to know he was set at the protagonist, for the most part anyway. “Tevinter coin is still coin all the same.” At that point Aveline split from their party to return to the guard’s barracks. “Be careful Hawke.” She offered with a final stern look before striding off into the night. [/SIZE]


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]As they approached the manor, Hawke paused to admire it. A little shabby, sure, but compared to the hovel his entire family currently squatted in it was paradise. Determination to one day live in a place like this welled in him and twisted itself among the constant lust and desire to let blood. The expedition seemed all the more pertinent now. [/SIZE]



[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Well here we are.” He rolled his shoulders and unsheathed his blades again. “Fenris, you take point. I’ll take care of the peripheral enemies while you keep the big ones interested.” He was ever so distracting after all. “You lead the way, once we have the entryway cleared Bethany and Varric will be able to watch our backs and help us clear the bigger rooms. Ready when you are.” He licked his lips in anticipation. This was going to be good. [/SIZE]