Dragon Age: Prologue

A moonless night rose over the forests around the castle. White stone and ivy towered above the canopy of the trees, a beacon in an ever darkening world.

The canopy and the trees dropped off 100 yards or more from the exterior wall of the castle itself, open ground the first line of defense for the inhabitants within. Five figures stood in the shadows just inside the line of trees. Wearing dark blue clothes, hoods, and masks - they blended in perfectly with the darkness around them. The smallest of the five (a relative term) stood a step before the others holding a blackened metal spyglass up to its eye.

It tracked the guards as they patrolled the tower. They had chosen this time specifically. Changing of the guard. A five minute window where tobacco was smoked, gossip was exchanged, and alertness was at a minimum.


The last of the guards disappeared into a staircase that lead off the exterior security wall. The coast was clear. The smallest figure raised an arm, and spun a hand around once in a circle, indicating it was time to go. Swiftly, the five figures ran across the grounds between the forests and the wall. They came to a halt at the foot of the wall, and five grappling hooks were pulled free of their belts. The hooks were tossed up into the air, and all five caught on the wall at the top. The figures climbed.

Once on the wall, the leader raised two fingers, and pointed behind them to the stairwell where the two guards would be coming from. Two of the five dropped back, raising crossbows, and ducking into the shadows of the wall's corners. The other three began to run. The target window was close, but two floors above where they currently stood. The whispers of crossbow bolts fired, two thuds indicated the death of two guards.

The lead figure approached a second set of stairs. The guard who manned the bonfire alert system would be headed up any time now. Behind the leader, the two remaining bandits tossed two more grappling hooks to the target balcony. The lead figure heard a yawn, and the tapping of a large lighting torch as it thudded against the floor of each stair. The figure slipped its back against the wall, until the guard stepped out into the open air. He never saw the figure who's hands grabbed his head, and twisted hard enough to break his neck. The figure caught him, leaned him up against one of the walls, head down, torch in his arms - looking asleep.

The lead figure turned, leaping off the wall, grabbing on to one of the grappling ropes, which was held taut by one of the other bandits. Legs wrapping around the rope, hand over hand, the figure was on the balcony within minutes. It tied off the ropes on the balcony side for strength, and set to work picking the lock on the balcony door. By the time all four of the other bandits were on the balcony, the door pushed open slowly. They fanned out as they entered, all five drawing crossbows.

The approach had been so silent, their target never woke. The leader took a position at the foot of the bed, the other four standing over the man sleeping in the bed before them. Once all were in place, the leader raised a foot, and kicked the bed hard, startling the man awake. The Nobleman sat up quickly in his surprise, and saw the leader first.

The leader raised a hand, pulling the mask away, leaving the hood - revealing a young woman, with light silver eyes, and pitch black hair. "Good Morning, Prince Charming. Should I have woken you with a kiss instead?"

Shanen Hamelton, the Teryn's eldest son sat up in surprise, instantly awake to see five figures surrounding his bed, illuminated by the dying embers of a wall lamp.

If the young man was afraid, he gave no hint as he regraded the intruders in silence. The blanket fell down his body to arms and a torso toned thick with muscle; the result of years of training with the castle's Master at Arms. Before he could speak the figure in the centre pulled away the mask covering their face to reveal a young woman, strikingly beautiful with dark hair peaking from her hood.

"Good Morning, Prince Charming. Should I have woken you with a kiss instead?" She taunted.

"I can think of one place I'd have your lips." Came the instant retort. "Parlour games have little effect on me. I'm impressed you got in but it's only a matter of time before you are found. Perhaps you should take the chance to leave, while you still can, my father takes a dim view of thieves, especially those who wish rob him in his own home."

There was a laugh from the woman as he attempted to insult her with implications of dominating her. She shook her head lightly. "There's plenty of time for foreplay later, Highness. I'm afraid we do have other matters to attend right now."

The woman motioned to one of the four, who gathered some of Shanen's clothes and threw them on his bed. She raised her crossbow a hair higher, the line of the point from her arrow aimed directly at his throat. "Now, I'm going to ask you to get dressed, and come quietly with me and my men. I'd like to keep this encounter polite, I'd hate to have to tell my men to get your little sister instead. I don't like children."

It was only when they threw him his clothes that Shanen realised what, or rather who, they were after. The mention of his sister, flamed his anger but the arrow aimed directly at his throat ensured he had no choice but to comply.

Silently, he rose from the bed, taking no effort to hide his nudity. Rather than being embarrassed he fixed the leader of the intruders with a defiant stare as he dressed; his eyes rarely turning away from her.

He dressed quickly, pulling on bottoms and a pair of boots. His mind raced.

As one of the would-be kidnappers turned to check the corridor he realised his moment to strike was already here. He dropped the upper body garment he was holding and grabbed at the man's dagger on his waist. As the man turned, Shanen slashed him across the chest. It would not be fatal but it would take him out of the fight. He felt naked with no upper body protection of any kind, not even a shirt but he pushed the thought out of his mind, knowing the need for concentration.

The second intruder closest to him made an effort at a grab but Shanen pivoted back quickly and plunged the blade deep into the man's upper arm. Wrenching the weapon free he turned to face the remaining attackers.

She was in action once he started to attack. She raised a hand to the other two men, she would need at least a team of three to get them out. She dropped the crossbow on his bed, and stepped in to engage the man herself. Barehanded, she stepped into a low crouch. She fixed her eyes on his hips, to keep an eye on where his momentum was going. Before he could attack anyone else, she stepped in and swung a kick toward his chest with intent to knock him off balance.

He turned and was met with a kick to the mid section. He stumbled, the wind temporarily knocked out of him. Frustrated by the confidence of the woman, he moved toward her. He had never fought a woman before and part of his chivalrous upbringing remained with him, even in the midst of a kidnapping attempt.

He swung a fist instead, hoping to stun, rather than kill her. If he could do that, then he could focus on the remaining two male accomplices, who would be stronger and by the looks of them, much more dangerous to him than this woman, whoever she was.

She raised her hand to block his fist, ignoring the pain of the impact. A nobleman, sure - but she could feel he would hit like a ton of bricks... and that was with him pulling his punches. She shoved his arm off hers, moving forward a step, trying to drive him back. She aimed a punch for his midsection, knowing it wouldn't hurt him too badly if it connected, she just wanted to keep him wrong footed - keep him off balance.

"You're underestimating me!" She said in a hissed breath, firing another kick toward his side. Her hope would be to use the motion to step forward, driving him back another step if she could . "Fight for keeps, Highness, or don't fight at all!"

"Fight for keeps, Highness, or don't fight at all!"

The words stung his masculine pride. "When my father takes you prisoner, I'll request he doesn't take your head. I think you'd be much more at home as one of the kitchen maids. You have the look of a washer woman." He taunted, charging her.

She grinned again, knowing she was upsetting him.

"Highness, it may have escaped your notice, but I'm not like the whores that you charm into your bed."

She took in and held a short breath, her fists clenching as she stepped forward. She had backed him toward the wall. The first blow was her elbow to his chest, the second was the same arm swinging wide like a bat, the outside of her fist connecting with the side of his head. When he reeled, the third was a kick to his hip to throw him to the floor.

She moved.

She was too quick, frustrating him.

Before he could react, she was on him.

The elbow to his chest hurt him but it was the shot to his temple that finished the fight. He barely felt the third blow but certainly felt his head hit the hard stone floor.

His bare skin felt cold against the ground. He was starting to fade out of consciousness as he saw his attacker move over to her two wounded men and disposed of them without a hint of compassion.

"Dead men tell no tales." Her voice echoed around his head as he lost consciousness.

"Pick him up, and grab a shirt and a coat for him. We don't need him dying of exposure on the way." The woman said to the remaining two Henchmen. She looked down at the two she had to kill, their blood on the floor, wounded... they were no more use to her. Shame, they were good men.

The other two grabbed her quarry, and carried him between them, heading down the stairs. She paused just long enough to throw her ransom demands and instructions on his bed.

The three moved efficiently. Shanen's horses were right downstairs, they had every intention of stealing his animals on the way out. He would be riding with her...

Her men made quick work of saddling three horses, while she ran to the main gate. When they were done, Shanen was thrown on the back of one Horse, that horse being lead by one of the other two. She began to turn the wheel that managed the side gate nearest them. The gate sounded of thunder, causing the living guards to go on alert. The three horses tore from the stables, pausing only to pick up the woman, who made sure the Nobleman was steady on the horse before she began to run. By the time anyone made it to the gate, they were back in the safety of the forest, and gone.

The Stygian darkness from the moonless night agreed with Alaric's nocturnal sensibilities. He had not slept ever since he left the Circle out of fear of the Fade. The Circle offered protections against the Fade's encroachment. The one benefit of being part of the Circle. Alaric missed being a part of that brotherhood at night. The Fade's call was strongest at night. It was when his mana reserves were at its nadir. He found ways to compensate. Two hours of meditation. Thirty minutes of bed rest. Two more hours of meditation. He was in the middle of his 2nd meditation when a panicked knocking disturbed him....

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Alaric," he heard a voice shout. "Alaric! Please! We need you!"

POUND POUND POUND POUND POUND POUND

"ALARIC!!!!!!" The voice sounded desperate. "WAKE UP! PLEASE!!!!"

He glided through the darkness like a fish through water to the solid oak door. Alaric found the latch to undo the lock and slid it open, allowing the door to creak open. The torchlight spilled into his room as the door slowly swung inward, blinding him momentarily and revealing Alaric to the world. His long silk black hair was parted down the middle and fell down to his shoulders. He covered his handsome, rugged face, with his hands, trying to protect his eyes. Alaric was wearing his silver and bronze embroidered cotton night gown. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw Teyrn Garlan and a few of his personal guards with weapons drawn.

"Your Grace?" Alaric began to talk. "Am I under arrest. Have I offended, my Teyrn?"

Teyrn Garlan shook his head no. "No. No. No. Of course not my friend. But your talents are needed. My son has been kidnapped. Please. Follow me." Teyrn gestured for the slightly groggy Alaric to follow. Alaric bowed toward his Teryn and obediently followed. While he left his shadowy room, he reached and grabbed his dragon-bone staff and stayed a respectful distance from the Teryn and his honor guard. They went straight to the room of his son, Shanen. Alaric prepared a cast a spell, just in case, as they entered. Alaric followed.

Teyrn Garlan stopped at the bed and picked up a folded sheet of parchment. Alaric remained at the doorway, watching the scene.

Teryn Garlan's hands shook with fury as he read the ransom note. Alaric watched his liege with total indifference for only a brief moment before studying the crime scene from his vantage point. Two dead thieves littered the floor. Blood stained some of the exquisite carpeting and bed sheets. Based on the spray, it was most likely the result of Lord Shanen's skilled attack. Quite rude of them to not clean up after themselves, he thought to himself.

Teryn Garlan's men secured the room. Two of them stationed themselves at the window. The rest spread out to try to cover every square inch of the room. Alaric turned his head away from them and back towards the dead bodies.

"My Teryn. If I may not offend by interruption." Alaric's voice cut through the silence. Teryn Garlan's head snapped up away from the parchment and toward Alaric.

"Continue, my friend," Teryn Garlan replied.

Alaric bowed his head in subservience toward his lord. "My thanks for you kind words, your grace. I do not need to know what that ransom note reads in order to understand what they are after. Whoever did this is intelligent beyond measure. It stands to reason they planned this for months and left nothing to chance."

Alaric paused and gestured toward the two dead bodies still leaking blood. Teryn Garlan nodded his noble head in agreement.

"I fear I am not telling you anything new," Alaric continued. "I realize you have already come to this yourself. What I can offer you is a way to acquire additional information. Though, it may be distasteful to your senses."

Alaric allowed his last few words to linger in the air. Teryn Garlan knew what Alaric was implying. Alaric was, by trade, something called a White Necromancer. It was a term that Alaric created to explain what it was that he did. Teryn Garlan never fully questioned the esoteric nature of Alaric's trade. The Teryn stared at Alaric, considering his words carefully.

"Continue," Teryn Garlan uttered.

"Of course, my Teryn," Alaric responded and bowed his head again. "These two men are only recently deceased. I will require them to be transferred to the dungeons. Secure their limbs. Send your fastest rider to my domicile and have them collect my dark azure travelling bag. Under no circumstances are they to open it."

Alaric's words again hung in the air. Only this time, there were far grimmer overtones. Teryn Garlan called for his servants and gave them the instructions which Alaric just gave. The servants deeply bowed and went straight to work. After the servants left, the Teryn dismissed his honor guard so it would just be Alaric and himself there, alone. Alaric moved out of the way to allow the armored soldiers passed him. Alaric kept a stoic disposition throughout it. Once they were alone in the dimly lit room of his kidnapped son, Teryn Garlan walked up to Alaric.

"What is it that you will do in my name?" he asked the White Necromancer.

"My lord," Alaric began. "I would never do anything in your name that you did not want me to do."

"Then what is it that you will do for my benefit, but not in my name?" The Teryn responded.

"Two vivisections," Alaric darkly replied. "The first to loosen the tongue of the second. After the second pleads for his life and shares all the information about the kidnappers, he will be dispatched in the same way as the first."

All blood drained away from Teryn Garlan's noble visage. His jawline tightened while he considered the grim business which Alaric proposed. After one second, the Teryn nodded, giving consent to the plan.

Some time Later, Back at the Camp

The camp was a small, semi-temporary establishment in the middle of the forest. Walls and buildings had been loosely constructed of wood, sailcloth, and thatch, to provide reasonable protection at minimal cost and labor. Bandits moved in shifts, never leaving walls unguarded, but made no move to hide their presence. Fires, cooking smells, the banging of metal, laughter, spars - life floated away from the camp. There was no sense in attempting to hide an operation of this size, so the Bandit Queen had not even bothered to give that order.

She crossed the camp in long, quick strides, having changed from the dark clothes and hood into her armor. She wore simple chain, covering most of her torso, her lower arms, legs, and hips. There were breaks in the armor at any pivot point, as she favored the ability to move freely over the added protection. On her back, and the back of her upper arms, she almost proudly displayed a lattice work of shallow scars. She wore few weapons, a crossbow strapped to her back, and a mace hanging from her hip.

She was human in height, weight, and build - but her coloration was clearly more Dalish. Long black hair fell stick straight down her back, ghostly gray eyes looked out from under long eyelashes. Her features were sharp and delicately pointed, her skin very pale. If her men thought she was beautiful, they certainly never said so - one glare from her eyes was enough to make any person wish they hadn't evoked such an emotion.

She ducked under the cloth doorway to the largest of the tents in the encampment and nodded to the two guards who were standing over her quarry. "You are relieved, I can manage His Highness on my own. Go and gather food and drink for him."

Wordlessly, the two nodded in return, and left the tent.

The Prince was still sleeping, laid out on a reasonably comfortable cot in the corner of the larger tent, without bindings. The walls of the tent were reinforced with wood slats, which would prove difficult for the Prince if he wished to attempt escape. The Bandit Queen took her set at a desk to read over the various reports and information she'd been gathering. Her desk faced the Prince, not wanting to turn her back on him. Any movement on his part would catch her attention.

Shanen heard words. The voices were in the distance and accompanied by the shuffling of feet and furniture. As a habit he reached for his blanket but as he did the memories stared to pierce his conciosuness. The intruders in his chamber, led by that bich woman. She had tricked him....

The final memory jolted him out of his haze. His eyes opened slowly as he blinked tryng to take in his new surroundings. He carefully propped himself up to rest on his elbows before gingerly touching the bump on the back of his head. It was only as he was doing so that he noticed the woman. She was seated behind a small desk facing his cot.

He tried to think of some quick quip but the memory of their fight and the knowledge that this woman had somehow rendered him unconscious and seemingly kidnapped him was already stinging at his pride.

Instead he took the time to take in the tent. It was spacious and more than comfortable, especially for a captive, although he didn't fail to notice the walls were reinforced. He looked to the woman last, now clad in armour, no doubt an attempt at some sort of intimidation act. The criss-cross of scars on her upper arms were impossible to miss. Another part of the show he wondered.

"I'm guessing you don't keep all your kidnap victims in such comfortable surroundings. Or is this your own tent? Perhaps you stole me away to enjoy me." His tone was dismissive, showing no hint of fear.

"I'm guessing you don't keep all your kidnap victims in such comfortable surroundings. Or is this your own tent? Perhaps you stole me away to enjoy me." His said dismissively, she didn't look up while he spoke - unable to disguise the hair of a smirk over her features. He's brave, I'll give him that...

Her eyes flicked up toward Shanen without any movement on the part of her chin or head. She watched him for a second after he spoke. Then her chin rose, and with the smirk, she affixed him with her piercing gaze. "I believe the colloquial phrase, Your Majesty, is 'You Wish'. Welcome to my encampment. I have some of my men gathering you food and drink. As I'm sure it will cross your mind, neither food nor drink is poisoned. If I wanted you dead, I'd have killed you back in your tower. Your comfort is necessary to ensure your health, I'd hate for you to fall ill before my ransom is paid."

One of the guards came back with a plate of reasonably good smelling breakfast, and a glass of juice. He set the food before Shanen on a small table, and glared at him as though the Prince offended him. He turned and left under the watchful eye of the Bandit Queen. Right behind him, another entered with a small pack of paper.

"L... Ma'am.. There's been a new report on the arti..."He said, stepping toward her.

"Not now, Kypson." The woman interrupted him, turning toward the Bandit. "We do not discuss our plans in front of prisoners. Just leave the report. I'll read it at my leisure. You're dismissed."

He nodded, handing her the report, and leaving the tent as quickly as possible, clearly in fear of her wrath for nearly spilling information. The woman glanced back to Shanen after the two guards had left, and leaned back in her chair. She seemed to be considering him in silence.

The man who brought Shanen his food glared at him. Shanen never took his eyes off the man, showing no hint of intimidation. As he left another entered. The young nobleman watched as he took a bite of sausage, he knew what the woman had said was right. There would be no poison. This was a kidnapping and ransom, and for that they needed him healthy.

The messenger departed and left him in silence with his kidnapper. Her demenaour was icy and he had no doubt she ruled her band of criminals with an iron fist. She watched him as he continued to eat at the breakfast before him.

"Obviously you know who I am. Would you do me the same courtesy." He asked after a few seconds. "Perhaps you could also tell me how you plan on surviving my father's wrath at the kidnapping of his eldest son."

"I am called the Bandit Queen - though the term is a hair gaudy for my taste. I would prefer something with a little more of an intimidating connotation. In light of that, and because 'Bandit Queen' is rather a mouthful to say if you need to ask any questions or make any requests... my name is Lyra." She said, offering a nod of her head - a form of respect. "Forgive the glares from my men. This camp is full of people who have been slaves and orphans. The lost and forgotten of this society given homes and purpose in an army that operates willfully outside the law. To them, your upbringing is cause for contempt."

She rose, setting the pages down on her desk, and crossed the space between to take a seat nearer to Shanen. She seemed to occupy the small chair with all the presence and bearing as if it were a throne. "As for my escape and survival - I'm pleased to hear of your concern for me and mine, however - why don't you leave that to me? I assure you, I do have a plan.

"You should be pleased that it was me to abduct you, Your Majesty. I don't believe in torture or brutality. I will kill you, if need comes to it - I can't be seen as going soft. However, I know other encampments who would be cheering right now in the hope that your ransom was not paid. Those camps would take pleasure in your inevitable destruction. I am benevolent, however, I promise you now if I must dispatch you - it will be quick and painless, same as the death I granted my men inside your tower."

"To them, your upbringing is cause for contempt."

"Another tale of woe. One can not feel guilty for the family there were born into." Shanen spoke up. Annoyed that his kidnapper now had to gall to lecture him on the ills of society.

She continued unabated, "You should be pleased that it was me to abduct you, Your Majesty. I don't believe in torture or brutality. I will kill you, if need comes to it - I can't be seen as going soft. However, I know other encampments who would be cheering right now in the hope that your ransom was not paid. Those camps would take pleasure in your inevitable destruction. I am benevolent, however, I promise you now if I must dispatch you - it will be quick and painless, same as the death I granted my men inside your tower."

"Yes, those lucky men, to have a leader so caring and benevolent." He took a glance at the table, his interest now piqued by the actions of the messenger and the woman known as Lyra just a second ago. "Tell me, do all your followers meet such a heroic end. Killed by their masters in the room of the man they were hired to abduct?"

He changed tact before she could answer "I'm assuming if me as your hostage you are expecting a handsome ransom and you're likely to get it, although I doubt you will enjoy it for long. Therefore, I must ask the question of why me? Surely there are easier targets out there, also from wealthy families. Of course, no family is as wealthy as mine or have any children likely to raise a reward for a safe return such as I will, but it would more than enough keep your little gang of thugs, robbers, rapists and murderers going for a long time."

"Of course, I'm assuming money is your reward. Perhaps you had something else in mind, hence why I was taken. It looks like someone has already undergone the strain of removing my top. Do you like what you see Queen?" He pointed to his muscled upper body, his tone was taunting and designed for the ice bitch to lose her cool.

She did not let him bait her, her expression never faltered as he spoke. Only after he had finished speaking, and she had a chance to take in what he had said was there a flash of something that might have been a frown, a sense of loss perhaps. It registered briefly, but powerfully behind her eyes. She had become good at quelling those flashes of emotion. It was hard to run a camp full of men - she had to be twice as strong, twice as fast, and twice as unflappable to garner even half the respect that a man would have in her same position. Though she knew she shouldn't respond to him, she allowed herself a moment of weakness - and drew breath slowly to speak. Her responses were measured, words carefully chosen, tone carefully controlled.

"Firstly, your Majesty. I would like to start by saying that there are no rapists in my crew. Any there have been were killed by me personally. And - despite my prior assertion that brutality was not necessary, I took pleasure in their pain and death. Secondly, I take as good care of my men as I am able, those whom do not displease me. They knew the risks of going to your tower to kidnap you, but I did not have the time to tend their wounds, or see to their safety. And a trail of blood or bodies would not have done my camp here any favors." The cold in her tone was now underlined in something much harder, much more dangerous.

"Thirdly, I would not expect you to feel guilt or emotion for those whom you consider your underlings. But know this - these men deserve your respect, as do your own servants and slaves. Even if you offer none to me, I will not stand for you to imply that their pain is in any way meaningless.

"Lastly, money is common. I have little use for it, it's only worth what can be purchased with it. I am on a hunt for a prize, though do not bother asking me what, or where. I don't need you running back to your father with my secrets so you can follow me. Suffice it to say, I have my... reasons... for finding the prize, and it's worth quite a bit more than you." Only when she was done speaking did she look up to meet his eyes with her own.