Fic: Survivors part 3.1
Title: Survivors
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Mahariel, Tabris, Alistair, Morrigan, Leliana
Summary: The Grey Wardens begin their recruitment at the Circle Tower and find that it is in no state to offer help.
Author's Note: Somehow this chapter turned into "The Morrigan and Theron Show". Even I have no idea how. Note this is how I played my game, dumped Morrigan when I found Wynne as I was running low on healing potions. And it turned out to be double my normal chapter length.
Part one of two.
Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2
It takes them almost a week to get to the Circle Tower from their camp outside Denerim. The Flat-Ear is slightly more personable than what he has been, he's answering questions civilly and not with one word answers, that even then are given grudgingly. For a while, Theron finds him tolerable, likeable almost (not that he'll admit that part) and manages to strike up a conversation or two with him.
Halfway through the third day, the Tower comes into sight. Theron is at the back of the group, Morrigan nearby, somehow the two have begun something of a friendship. Or at least, as close as in Morrigan's and his own case. She looks at the Tower's silhouette, curiously, then tilts her head.
"T'is surely not just me who thinks the tower looks like a giant phallus," she remarks and looks around the group.
Theron has stopped dead, while Alistair groans and the Flat-Ear has one eyebrow raised, an expression of puzzlement on his face. He shakes his head and sighs, deciding he's best not answering.
Theron on the other hand, tilts his head and squints at it. "I think you might be right," he says.
"There, you see? I'm not the only one."
The Flat-Eat groans. "He's only saying that."
Theron glares daggers into the Flat-Ear's back. "Because you're a mind reader after all."
The remark shouldn't annoy him as much as it does and their fragile truce is ended. The Flat-Ear scowls over his shoulder and says no more, Theron, resisting the urge to kick something, preferably, the Flat-Ear.
He's been irritable all day. He's sure it's lack of sleep that yet another night of bad dreams, along with Tamlen haunting him has made him take offence where none was intended. However, he's stubborn, far too much, something Ashalle always remarked upon when he was younger. Due to this, he was never the one to apologize first. The few and far between fights he and Tamlen had, it was always the latter who approached, knowing he would sit and simmer over whatever the dispute. He had been terrible for it, and he knows he's even worse now.
Alistair slows his pace and falls in step with him, Morrigan marching on ahead. Theron says nothing and doesn't even acknowledge the man being there.
"Are you all right?" Alistair says. For a moment Theron thinks he looks as if he's bracing himself to get his head bitten off.
"I'm fine," he answers. While it is not the ground out, say-another-word-and-I-will-hit-you that Alistair seems to be expecting, it is none too friendly either.
Alistair goes back to the Flat-Ear, leaving him to glare holes in the elf's back until the pitch camp.
Theron spends the majority of the evening away from the others. It is Morrigan's turn to cook the dinner, he's thankful for that. His fellow Grey Wardens are terrible at cooking and if he didn't know any better, he would be convinced the Flat-Ear was trying to poison them. If he had the wits enough to do so, or the knowledge of it.
The Flat-Ear helps out with plating up dinner, whether out of politeness he's not sure. It is Morrigan who brings his, when it seems obvious that he is not going to retrieve it.
"I'm sure my mother did not intend for me to skivvy after you Grey Wardens when she sent me with you," she says and puts the large plate down next to him. She has her own plate in her hands and Theron gestures to the empty space beside him.
"I wouldn't know, I wasn't there," he answers, a small smile on his face.
She rolls her eyes. "I take it you are in a better mood than what you have been."
He nods. "Somewhat."
"Good. There is only so long one can put up with your scowling at everything."
He doesn't answer. She's right however he doesn't want to admit that.
He finishes his meal, helps out with the washing up then decides to clear out his pack. It feels heavier than what it should be and the extra coin from selling whatever junk that's in it won't go amiss. He sits with Morrigan once again, a companionable silence having fallen between them. As he rummages through his pack, she is busy brewing up potions for the rest of the group. For the most part, they are both engrossed in their current tasks, until Theron fishes out a gold chain from his pack. It twinkles in the firelight and catches Morrigan's eye.
"What is that you've got there?" she says, potion brewing abandoned for the moment.
"I found it in Lothering, when the Flat-Ear was off doing...something," he answers. He can't truly remember where the Flat-Ear was, only that he'd become fed up and wandered off. "I was going to sell it, not really much use to me."
"I see." She returns to her potions, however she glances back to the trinket.
"What, do you want it?"
"No, no. Do as you wish with it. T'is none of my business."
A smile makes its way across his face and he stands up. Morrigan glances over once more, then ignores what he's doing. He walks behind her and she stiffens, stopping what she's doing, suddenly on alert. He kneels down, drapes the necklace around her neck and fastens it. He stands up again and returns to the spot he was at moments before, picking up the items he intends to sell.
"You are...giving it to me? Why?" she says, frowning. She holds the chain between her fingers, now utterly confused.
"I'm not blind Morrigan, you liked it the moment you saw it," he tells her.
"But surely you wish something in return."
He sighs. "You said 'do as you will'. Well there you are, I'm giving it to you, as a gift. There's no ulterior motive and I'm not after anything in return for it."
He's gathered all his items up by this point and he leaves, going over to Bodahn, ready to haggle the best price.
He suffers nightmares worse than normal that night. He tosses and turns, then wakens with a start, midway through Leliana's watch shift. He feels terrible, feels sick, his stomach churning, threatening to show him the contents of his dinner again. He curls up, arms wrapped around himself, the nausea unbearable. His head is pounding. The pain thuds against his skull, as if there is some creature inside, pounding to get out. At the back of his mind, somewhere within the pain, there is a song, something calling, something tempting...He tries to shut it out, ignore it. Then as quickly as it came, it dissipates again, only the pain remaining.
He uncurls from his ball of suffering, deciding that perhaps some fresh air will do him good. He crawls out, Leliana on the other side of the camp at this point, and sits by the fire. Leliana returns and startles when she finds him there.
"Theron! I wasn't expecting..." she begins, then shakes her head and sits with him. "More bad dreams?"
He nods. "Feeling ill." He's entirely too miserable to even try and hide it. "If I thought Morrigan was awake, I'd ask her for something for it."
"What's the matter? Feel sick?"
He nods again.
"Don't bother Morrigan, I can help with that just as easily." She scurries off to her tent, Theron now trying to stay alert in case of a bandit or darkspawn attack while she's gone. She returns to him with a handful of herbs and she hands him the kettle. "Here, some mint. Brew it up and make yourself some tea, it'll help you."
He obeys Leliana, brews up the tea for himself, belatedly wonders if he should've made some for her too, then stays by the fire for the rest of her watch. He finishes the tea and Leliana's voice stops him.
"Theron you're bleeding," she tells him.
He panics slightly, checking for any open wounds, anything that he's missed.
"Your nose."
He raises his hand, tentative, sure enough finds a trail of blood. He wipes it away, shrugs her concern off, hopes she won't make a big deal out of it. He retreats to his tent, lies down and stays there until he is called.
He doesn't mention the incident to his fellow Grey Wardens, doesn't mention it to anyone. Leliana thankfully doesn't say anything, he doesn't know how exactly he'd explain it.
They reach the Tower, or the docks at least. There, stands a lone Templar, eyeing them and he crosses the pier halfway to meet them.
"You're not looking to get to the Tower are you? You're out of luck, I have orders not to let anyone pass," the Templar says.
The Flat-Ear frowns. "What? No one?"
"No one. So that includes you. Now be on your way."
"Can't you make an exception for a Grey Warden?"
The Templar raises an eyebrow and the resounding slap of Theron's hand against his forehead is heard around the group. Creators but he is clueless. The Regent declares Grey Wardens as murderers of the king and he wanders off and tells someone who they are? What's to stop this Templar fool from bringing more soldiers or bounty hunters down on their heads?
They're lucky the Templar doesn't believe him. "Oh so you're a Grey Warden are you? Do some righteous Grey Wardening, then. Prove it."
It's at this point that Theron steps in, more forcefully than what the Flat-Ear or Alistair would do.
"We don't have to prove anything to you shem. You either believe us or you don't. Now take across the damned lake," he orders, glaring at the man.
"Well I don't believe you and I'm not taking you across the lake."
The Flat-Ear sighs. "Can't we work something out?"
Personally, Theron prefers the idea of throwing the fool in the lake and rowing themselves across, however he knows that idea will go down like a brick.
The Templar looks over both their shoulders to where Morrigan stands and when seeing this, Theron gets into his line of vision with another severe glare.
"Well there is one thing...That dark eyed temptress over there," he says and nods to her. "Surely the tower would be too dull for her. Because it does get lonely out here...And you could leave her out here with me..."
Theron bristles, the Flat-Ear puts one hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him. The Templar is annoying him something terrible and while he knows he shouldn't let it get to him, he can't help it.
He looks over to Morrigan and she smiles sweetly, winks in his direction. He wonders what she's up to.
"Oh, excellent. I have been hoping for some new prey," she announces and takes a few steps closer.
The Templar pales. "Prey?"
She takes another step closer. "T'will take but a moment. Perhaps you should go aboard the vessel while we are away. We must row ourselves across. I fear the lad will not have the use of his limbs." She pauses, then adds, "Or his eyes, once I am done with him."
Theron raises an eyebrow, the Flat-Ear tries to hide a smile and Alistair watches on, saying nothing, but clear does not like the direction it's taking.
The Templar backs away, back to the boat. "Er...Maybe I should..."
Morrigan's smile widens. "Wonderful! I can sense his terror! That should make the loving all the sweeter."
The Templar has lost all colour in his face and he walks briskly to the boat. "So you wanted to go to the Tower? Maybe we should go now. Right now. NOW."
Theron too gets an evil look. "D'you know, I think I need to check my equipment before we go, I'm not sure I'm ready yet," he says.
The Flat-Ear coughs, hides his smile behind his hand. "Check it on the way then, the sooner we get across, the sooner it's over with." He looks to Theron and says quietly, "You're evil."
Theron grins. "Of course I am. Is that you just noticing?"
The Flat-Ear grins also. Apparently their truce has been called once again.
They get on the boat, granted it has to make two trips for everyone. The Tower stretches into the sky, intimidating as its shadow looms over them. The lake is not much better. It is dark and murky and looking into it, feels far more like looking into an endless abyss. It's cold too, the wind biting and he shivers, despite himself.
The Templar, once he deposits all of the group, is all too eager to get away. They enter the tower and are greeted by what sounds like shouting from the upper floors. This does not bode well.
The reach the upper floors, find Templars in full armour rushing out as if their life depended on it. The man in charge, continues barking orders at another Templar, ignoring their presence completely. Alistair looks around and over to the large double doors that are barred and from the looks of it, have no intention of being opened again.
"Are they keeping people out, or in?" he remarks, lips pressed together in a tight line.
The Flat-Ear shrugs, but he frowns at starts to approach what they assume to be the Templar's superior.
The man turns around and scowls when he sees the group. "I told Carroll not to let anyone in, who are you?" he demands.
For a moment, he thinks the Flat-Ear is going to back down, let Alistair talk them in or Theron. He readies himself just in case, waits for the Flat-Ear to say nothing, to bow to the shem like so many elves in the city do.
The Flat-Ear scowls and steps forward, ready to speak up. "We're Grey Wardens. And we're here to get assistance against the darkspawn," he answers.
Because that looks likely and all Theron can't help but think, though he bites his tongue. The Flat-Ear has surprised him, he didn't think he would stand up to the man.
The Templar sighs. "I am tired of the Grey Wardens' endless requests for mages." The Templar, Gregoir the Knight Commander, explains the situation. "You'll find no aid here, the templars cannot help you, nor can the mages. The tower...is no longer under our control."
"Why? What's happened here?"
"Demons. Abominations within the halls. The Circle is lost."
The Flat-Ear shakes his head. "But how did this happen?"
Greagoir sighs. "We don't know."
This answer does nothing to please any of them, though the Knight Commander does continue grimly. "We saw only demons, hunting templar and mage alike. I told my men to flee after I realised we could not defeat them."
This pleases the Flat-Ear even less. "So you left anyone who may have survived in there," he says. His fists are clenched and he has gone still.
Alistair quickly steps in, losing his temper at the Knight Commander will do nothing to endear them to him, nor will it help in getting the mages' help.
"What can we do to help then?" Alistair says.
Greagoir glares at the Flat-Ear briefly then turns his attention to Alistair. "I have sent word to Denerim, to call for the Rite of Annulment."
"And what's that when it's at home then?" the Flat-Ear snaps.
"It gives templars the authority to neutralise the Circle. Completely."
"Not happening." The Flat-Ear marches toward the barred doors, past the Knight Commander and turns back. "I don't believe that all the mages are either dead or abominations and I'm going in there to find out."
"You're a fool." Greagoir too marches toward the door. "There is no alternative. Everything beyond that door must be destroyed. There are no survivors."
"Did you look?"
"I didn't have to." He too looks at the barred door. "No one could have survived."
The Flat-Ear shrugs. "That's your opinion."
Greagoir pinches the bridge of his nose. "I see there is no persuading you otherwise. Once that door is open and you are inside, it will be closed and barred. I open them for no one until it is safe."
The Flat-Ear nods.
"If the first enchanter stands before me and tells me it is so, I will believe him. If Irving is lost...then so is the Circle."
Greagoir nods for the two templar guards to unbar the door and the Flat-Ear walks back to the group.
"Alistair, Leliana and Morrigan, with me," he tells them.
Wait, what? Theron scowls at the Flat-Ear. "And what am I? The afterthought?"
The Flat-Ear groans. "We can't bring all three Grey Wardens in here. We need at least one alive to end the Blight."
"And that can't be Alistair because...?"
The Flat-Ear opens his mouth to say something, shuts it again and can only offer a helpless shrug. Theron can't work out what it's meant to mean.
The doors creak open and the Flat-Ear turns away from him. Theron grits his teeth and watches them go through the doors and into the tower. As promised the doors are closed almost immediately and they are barred once more.
It's been more than an hour since the Flat-Ear and the rest have gone into the tower. Theron is restless. With only the Qunari and the dog for company, the waiting is driving him mad. He glances to the door often, starts to pace, then stops and sits with the dog.
He stares at the door, as if it's going to open or melt from the sheer intensity of his gaze. He stands up, checks his knives and brushes off any dirt from the back of his armour.
"You are disobeying him?" Sten says. He's frowning, disapproving of what he's doing having worked it out.
"Yep. I've never liked taking orders from anyone," Theron answers.
"Then you'll make a poor Grey Warden."
"More than likely."
He kneels down to the dog for a moment, gives its ears a scratch then heads toward the door.
Greagoir, having already spotted him, steps into his path. "I'm not opening those doors again," he tells Theron, arms folded across his breastplate.
"What's one more?" he says.
"If you'd wanted to go in, you should've went with the rest."
Theron glances to the door again. "Listen shem...I mean Knight Commander." Creators does that stick in his throat to do, however calling him 'shem' will get him nowhere. Better to show the man some amount of respect, call him by his title. "Surely the more going in to deal with them, the better the chance this'll get resolved with the Rite of...thing."
There's a small, blink-and-you'll-miss-it nod to the two guards at the door and they hesitate. There's another more forceful nod and the door is unbarred again.
"You have until the reinforcements get here. Once they do, the Circle will be neutrilised."
He doesn't need telling twice and he sprints through the doors, ignoring the slamming of them behind him.
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Mahariel, Tabris, Alistair, Morrigan, Leliana
Summary: The Grey Wardens begin their recruitment at the Circle Tower and find that it is in no state to offer help.
Author's Note: Somehow this chapter turned into "The Morrigan and Theron Show". Even I have no idea how. Note this is how I played my game, dumped Morrigan when I found Wynne as I was running low on healing potions. And it turned out to be double my normal chapter length.
Part one of two.
Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2
It takes them almost a week to get to the Circle Tower from their camp outside Denerim. The Flat-Ear is slightly more personable than what he has been, he's answering questions civilly and not with one word answers, that even then are given grudgingly. For a while, Theron finds him tolerable, likeable almost (not that he'll admit that part) and manages to strike up a conversation or two with him.
Halfway through the third day, the Tower comes into sight. Theron is at the back of the group, Morrigan nearby, somehow the two have begun something of a friendship. Or at least, as close as in Morrigan's and his own case. She looks at the Tower's silhouette, curiously, then tilts her head.
"T'is surely not just me who thinks the tower looks like a giant phallus," she remarks and looks around the group.
Theron has stopped dead, while Alistair groans and the Flat-Ear has one eyebrow raised, an expression of puzzlement on his face. He shakes his head and sighs, deciding he's best not answering.
Theron on the other hand, tilts his head and squints at it. "I think you might be right," he says.
"There, you see? I'm not the only one."
The Flat-Eat groans. "He's only saying that."
Theron glares daggers into the Flat-Ear's back. "Because you're a mind reader after all."
The remark shouldn't annoy him as much as it does and their fragile truce is ended. The Flat-Ear scowls over his shoulder and says no more, Theron, resisting the urge to kick something, preferably, the Flat-Ear.
He's been irritable all day. He's sure it's lack of sleep that yet another night of bad dreams, along with Tamlen haunting him has made him take offence where none was intended. However, he's stubborn, far too much, something Ashalle always remarked upon when he was younger. Due to this, he was never the one to apologize first. The few and far between fights he and Tamlen had, it was always the latter who approached, knowing he would sit and simmer over whatever the dispute. He had been terrible for it, and he knows he's even worse now.
Alistair slows his pace and falls in step with him, Morrigan marching on ahead. Theron says nothing and doesn't even acknowledge the man being there.
"Are you all right?" Alistair says. For a moment Theron thinks he looks as if he's bracing himself to get his head bitten off.
"I'm fine," he answers. While it is not the ground out, say-another-word-and-I-will-hit-you that Alistair seems to be expecting, it is none too friendly either.
Alistair goes back to the Flat-Ear, leaving him to glare holes in the elf's back until the pitch camp.
Theron spends the majority of the evening away from the others. It is Morrigan's turn to cook the dinner, he's thankful for that. His fellow Grey Wardens are terrible at cooking and if he didn't know any better, he would be convinced the Flat-Ear was trying to poison them. If he had the wits enough to do so, or the knowledge of it.
The Flat-Ear helps out with plating up dinner, whether out of politeness he's not sure. It is Morrigan who brings his, when it seems obvious that he is not going to retrieve it.
"I'm sure my mother did not intend for me to skivvy after you Grey Wardens when she sent me with you," she says and puts the large plate down next to him. She has her own plate in her hands and Theron gestures to the empty space beside him.
"I wouldn't know, I wasn't there," he answers, a small smile on his face.
She rolls her eyes. "I take it you are in a better mood than what you have been."
He nods. "Somewhat."
"Good. There is only so long one can put up with your scowling at everything."
He doesn't answer. She's right however he doesn't want to admit that.
He finishes his meal, helps out with the washing up then decides to clear out his pack. It feels heavier than what it should be and the extra coin from selling whatever junk that's in it won't go amiss. He sits with Morrigan once again, a companionable silence having fallen between them. As he rummages through his pack, she is busy brewing up potions for the rest of the group. For the most part, they are both engrossed in their current tasks, until Theron fishes out a gold chain from his pack. It twinkles in the firelight and catches Morrigan's eye.
"What is that you've got there?" she says, potion brewing abandoned for the moment.
"I found it in Lothering, when the Flat-Ear was off doing...something," he answers. He can't truly remember where the Flat-Ear was, only that he'd become fed up and wandered off. "I was going to sell it, not really much use to me."
"I see." She returns to her potions, however she glances back to the trinket.
"What, do you want it?"
"No, no. Do as you wish with it. T'is none of my business."
A smile makes its way across his face and he stands up. Morrigan glances over once more, then ignores what he's doing. He walks behind her and she stiffens, stopping what she's doing, suddenly on alert. He kneels down, drapes the necklace around her neck and fastens it. He stands up again and returns to the spot he was at moments before, picking up the items he intends to sell.
"You are...giving it to me? Why?" she says, frowning. She holds the chain between her fingers, now utterly confused.
"I'm not blind Morrigan, you liked it the moment you saw it," he tells her.
"But surely you wish something in return."
He sighs. "You said 'do as you will'. Well there you are, I'm giving it to you, as a gift. There's no ulterior motive and I'm not after anything in return for it."
He's gathered all his items up by this point and he leaves, going over to Bodahn, ready to haggle the best price.
He suffers nightmares worse than normal that night. He tosses and turns, then wakens with a start, midway through Leliana's watch shift. He feels terrible, feels sick, his stomach churning, threatening to show him the contents of his dinner again. He curls up, arms wrapped around himself, the nausea unbearable. His head is pounding. The pain thuds against his skull, as if there is some creature inside, pounding to get out. At the back of his mind, somewhere within the pain, there is a song, something calling, something tempting...He tries to shut it out, ignore it. Then as quickly as it came, it dissipates again, only the pain remaining.
He uncurls from his ball of suffering, deciding that perhaps some fresh air will do him good. He crawls out, Leliana on the other side of the camp at this point, and sits by the fire. Leliana returns and startles when she finds him there.
"Theron! I wasn't expecting..." she begins, then shakes her head and sits with him. "More bad dreams?"
He nods. "Feeling ill." He's entirely too miserable to even try and hide it. "If I thought Morrigan was awake, I'd ask her for something for it."
"What's the matter? Feel sick?"
He nods again.
"Don't bother Morrigan, I can help with that just as easily." She scurries off to her tent, Theron now trying to stay alert in case of a bandit or darkspawn attack while she's gone. She returns to him with a handful of herbs and she hands him the kettle. "Here, some mint. Brew it up and make yourself some tea, it'll help you."
He obeys Leliana, brews up the tea for himself, belatedly wonders if he should've made some for her too, then stays by the fire for the rest of her watch. He finishes the tea and Leliana's voice stops him.
"Theron you're bleeding," she tells him.
He panics slightly, checking for any open wounds, anything that he's missed.
"Your nose."
He raises his hand, tentative, sure enough finds a trail of blood. He wipes it away, shrugs her concern off, hopes she won't make a big deal out of it. He retreats to his tent, lies down and stays there until he is called.
He doesn't mention the incident to his fellow Grey Wardens, doesn't mention it to anyone. Leliana thankfully doesn't say anything, he doesn't know how exactly he'd explain it.
They reach the Tower, or the docks at least. There, stands a lone Templar, eyeing them and he crosses the pier halfway to meet them.
"You're not looking to get to the Tower are you? You're out of luck, I have orders not to let anyone pass," the Templar says.
The Flat-Ear frowns. "What? No one?"
"No one. So that includes you. Now be on your way."
"Can't you make an exception for a Grey Warden?"
The Templar raises an eyebrow and the resounding slap of Theron's hand against his forehead is heard around the group. Creators but he is clueless. The Regent declares Grey Wardens as murderers of the king and he wanders off and tells someone who they are? What's to stop this Templar fool from bringing more soldiers or bounty hunters down on their heads?
They're lucky the Templar doesn't believe him. "Oh so you're a Grey Warden are you? Do some righteous Grey Wardening, then. Prove it."
It's at this point that Theron steps in, more forcefully than what the Flat-Ear or Alistair would do.
"We don't have to prove anything to you shem. You either believe us or you don't. Now take across the damned lake," he orders, glaring at the man.
"Well I don't believe you and I'm not taking you across the lake."
The Flat-Ear sighs. "Can't we work something out?"
Personally, Theron prefers the idea of throwing the fool in the lake and rowing themselves across, however he knows that idea will go down like a brick.
The Templar looks over both their shoulders to where Morrigan stands and when seeing this, Theron gets into his line of vision with another severe glare.
"Well there is one thing...That dark eyed temptress over there," he says and nods to her. "Surely the tower would be too dull for her. Because it does get lonely out here...And you could leave her out here with me..."
Theron bristles, the Flat-Ear puts one hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him. The Templar is annoying him something terrible and while he knows he shouldn't let it get to him, he can't help it.
He looks over to Morrigan and she smiles sweetly, winks in his direction. He wonders what she's up to.
"Oh, excellent. I have been hoping for some new prey," she announces and takes a few steps closer.
The Templar pales. "Prey?"
She takes another step closer. "T'will take but a moment. Perhaps you should go aboard the vessel while we are away. We must row ourselves across. I fear the lad will not have the use of his limbs." She pauses, then adds, "Or his eyes, once I am done with him."
Theron raises an eyebrow, the Flat-Ear tries to hide a smile and Alistair watches on, saying nothing, but clear does not like the direction it's taking.
The Templar backs away, back to the boat. "Er...Maybe I should..."
Morrigan's smile widens. "Wonderful! I can sense his terror! That should make the loving all the sweeter."
The Templar has lost all colour in his face and he walks briskly to the boat. "So you wanted to go to the Tower? Maybe we should go now. Right now. NOW."
Theron too gets an evil look. "D'you know, I think I need to check my equipment before we go, I'm not sure I'm ready yet," he says.
The Flat-Ear coughs, hides his smile behind his hand. "Check it on the way then, the sooner we get across, the sooner it's over with." He looks to Theron and says quietly, "You're evil."
Theron grins. "Of course I am. Is that you just noticing?"
The Flat-Ear grins also. Apparently their truce has been called once again.
They get on the boat, granted it has to make two trips for everyone. The Tower stretches into the sky, intimidating as its shadow looms over them. The lake is not much better. It is dark and murky and looking into it, feels far more like looking into an endless abyss. It's cold too, the wind biting and he shivers, despite himself.
The Templar, once he deposits all of the group, is all too eager to get away. They enter the tower and are greeted by what sounds like shouting from the upper floors. This does not bode well.
The reach the upper floors, find Templars in full armour rushing out as if their life depended on it. The man in charge, continues barking orders at another Templar, ignoring their presence completely. Alistair looks around and over to the large double doors that are barred and from the looks of it, have no intention of being opened again.
"Are they keeping people out, or in?" he remarks, lips pressed together in a tight line.
The Flat-Ear shrugs, but he frowns at starts to approach what they assume to be the Templar's superior.
The man turns around and scowls when he sees the group. "I told Carroll not to let anyone in, who are you?" he demands.
For a moment, he thinks the Flat-Ear is going to back down, let Alistair talk them in or Theron. He readies himself just in case, waits for the Flat-Ear to say nothing, to bow to the shem like so many elves in the city do.
The Flat-Ear scowls and steps forward, ready to speak up. "We're Grey Wardens. And we're here to get assistance against the darkspawn," he answers.
Because that looks likely and all Theron can't help but think, though he bites his tongue. The Flat-Ear has surprised him, he didn't think he would stand up to the man.
The Templar sighs. "I am tired of the Grey Wardens' endless requests for mages." The Templar, Gregoir the Knight Commander, explains the situation. "You'll find no aid here, the templars cannot help you, nor can the mages. The tower...is no longer under our control."
"Why? What's happened here?"
"Demons. Abominations within the halls. The Circle is lost."
The Flat-Ear shakes his head. "But how did this happen?"
Greagoir sighs. "We don't know."
This answer does nothing to please any of them, though the Knight Commander does continue grimly. "We saw only demons, hunting templar and mage alike. I told my men to flee after I realised we could not defeat them."
This pleases the Flat-Ear even less. "So you left anyone who may have survived in there," he says. His fists are clenched and he has gone still.
Alistair quickly steps in, losing his temper at the Knight Commander will do nothing to endear them to him, nor will it help in getting the mages' help.
"What can we do to help then?" Alistair says.
Greagoir glares at the Flat-Ear briefly then turns his attention to Alistair. "I have sent word to Denerim, to call for the Rite of Annulment."
"And what's that when it's at home then?" the Flat-Ear snaps.
"It gives templars the authority to neutralise the Circle. Completely."
"Not happening." The Flat-Ear marches toward the barred doors, past the Knight Commander and turns back. "I don't believe that all the mages are either dead or abominations and I'm going in there to find out."
"You're a fool." Greagoir too marches toward the door. "There is no alternative. Everything beyond that door must be destroyed. There are no survivors."
"Did you look?"
"I didn't have to." He too looks at the barred door. "No one could have survived."
The Flat-Ear shrugs. "That's your opinion."
Greagoir pinches the bridge of his nose. "I see there is no persuading you otherwise. Once that door is open and you are inside, it will be closed and barred. I open them for no one until it is safe."
The Flat-Ear nods.
"If the first enchanter stands before me and tells me it is so, I will believe him. If Irving is lost...then so is the Circle."
Greagoir nods for the two templar guards to unbar the door and the Flat-Ear walks back to the group.
"Alistair, Leliana and Morrigan, with me," he tells them.
Wait, what? Theron scowls at the Flat-Ear. "And what am I? The afterthought?"
The Flat-Ear groans. "We can't bring all three Grey Wardens in here. We need at least one alive to end the Blight."
"And that can't be Alistair because...?"
The Flat-Ear opens his mouth to say something, shuts it again and can only offer a helpless shrug. Theron can't work out what it's meant to mean.
The doors creak open and the Flat-Ear turns away from him. Theron grits his teeth and watches them go through the doors and into the tower. As promised the doors are closed almost immediately and they are barred once more.
It's been more than an hour since the Flat-Ear and the rest have gone into the tower. Theron is restless. With only the Qunari and the dog for company, the waiting is driving him mad. He glances to the door often, starts to pace, then stops and sits with the dog.
He stares at the door, as if it's going to open or melt from the sheer intensity of his gaze. He stands up, checks his knives and brushes off any dirt from the back of his armour.
"You are disobeying him?" Sten says. He's frowning, disapproving of what he's doing having worked it out.
"Yep. I've never liked taking orders from anyone," Theron answers.
"Then you'll make a poor Grey Warden."
"More than likely."
He kneels down to the dog for a moment, gives its ears a scratch then heads toward the door.
Greagoir, having already spotted him, steps into his path. "I'm not opening those doors again," he tells Theron, arms folded across his breastplate.
"What's one more?" he says.
"If you'd wanted to go in, you should've went with the rest."
Theron glances to the door again. "Listen shem...I mean Knight Commander." Creators does that stick in his throat to do, however calling him 'shem' will get him nowhere. Better to show the man some amount of respect, call him by his title. "Surely the more going in to deal with them, the better the chance this'll get resolved with the Rite of...thing."
There's a small, blink-and-you'll-miss-it nod to the two guards at the door and they hesitate. There's another more forceful nod and the door is unbarred again.
"You have until the reinforcements get here. Once they do, the Circle will be neutrilised."
He doesn't need telling twice and he sprints through the doors, ignoring the slamming of them behind him.