Times Of War: Chapter One- The Witching Wood

Morven looked blankly forward, the smoke tinging his nose. His nostrils flicked, as he took in the smoke. The templar's eyes moved down to look down at his weaponry and the ground beneath his feet. Terrible things erupted from the earth, when the Golden City was defiled by the darkspawn. Terrible things dwelled in the places beneath. He did not know how dwarves survived in the ground. He would not go down there for all the glory in the world. Only if the Maker outstretched His hand and told him that it was his duty. He was nothing if not dutiful. Morven swallowed slightly, but it was impossible to see the bob of his Adam's apple from under his gorget. It only looked like the Templar's jaw was flexing. He shifted his shield on his arm slightly, his grip on his sword loosening slightly. He realized that he had been gripping it so hard that his hands were shaking.

"No instant way. We can tell when their magic stops working. We are not blind." He said flatly but softly, looking through the trees with his clear eyes. His voice would not have carried through the forest, the trees and grasses would have muffled the sound. Or so he hoped. He was not used to being outside. His face tensed again. "We cleanse the area and cut down those rendered impotent." Morven glanced behind him for a moment. "Apostates make themselves obvious." His eyes seemed to converge on Vale, for a moment, before he turned to walk ahead. "Usually."

Morven's stony face gave no indication of his thoughts. He was remembering what he was taught; how to cleanse an area with the right gestures of a hand, with the mental fortitude that all Templars were taught. You looked within yourself, and tried to find something to focus on. Focusing on the Maker's will, and His creed against mages is what gave Morven strength. He just had to remember... Morven sucked in a deep breath, as he strode forward, the briars and bushes clinging to his chain and cloth skirts.
 
Vale was fine letting the templar take point; the apostate was more comfortable with the apostate SLAYER not creeping close behind, watching him. His eye briefly followed Morven as he passed by, before he turned to Colette, his expression quickly changing from serious to welcoming as he made eye contact with the warrior woman. "I'm sure you're more than capable of watching over me," he remarked, flashing her a bright smile and chuckling lightly. When the templar glanced back at him with that grim look, he met it, though it took all he had to not look away.

As they walked along the forest path, Vale noticed the blonde warrior kept stealing glances at him. Tilting his head curiously, he inquired, "Is something the matter?" He gave her another warm smile, trying to assure her that he was not offended in any way, just curious. "I don't have something stuck to my shoe, do I?" He stopped a moment, lifting his leg to look under his wooden sandal, coincidentally missing the templar's second staredown while he did so. "No, it's not that. What is it?"
 
Esessar watched the bird fly away and he wondered why they wasted time just to heal it. That could have made a great snack for him... He glanced up at his Elf as if trying to read her mind. He wanted to know when they would be going but soon enough the mage took point, bumping into the mumbler only to make tensions rise again. Why were they traveling with the mumbler? He only seemed to make everyone nervous... It must be a people thing that he would never understand. Still, at least they were moving now though, for some reason, his elf kept him in front of her and behind the mumbler. They must think he was dangerous and they needed protection. After glancing back he noticed the warrior woman was walking with the mage. Why did he fall to the back? Maybe they were trying to keep piece or something. He was very confused, not only was tension constantly growing between everyone, but they were walking as well. His Elf almost never walked and she knew he liked to run. They got places faster that way as well...

Soon the smell of smoke started to get unbearable, yet everyone else seemed to just be beginning to notice it. Why were they walking to the fire? It was only a natural thing to stay away from it. Fire was dangerous and unpredictable, especially an untamed one in the forest! These people must not know the difference. He stopped and held his paw over his nose hoping to block the smell of smoke before he started to walk again. It was really bothering him. Again he glanced up to his Elf whom he was now next to after his brief stop. This made no sense!
 
As each member of their party spoke, Colette's head turned toward them. Perhaps it was unsafe to turn her attention away from her path, but she didn't collide with anyone this time. "You are too kind, Ser", she said with a smile of her own, "I'll do what I can to not prove you wrong." She tapped at her sword's pommel idly as she continued onward, making sure to keep near the healer.

She looked over at Morven, noting the looks he continued to give the mage. Colette bit her lip as she watched the templar, thinking in silence. He seemed polite enough when she first met him, but it bothered her more and more with each of those looks, each time he uttered the chant. He was intimidating, somewhat nerve-wracking. Creepy even, as much as she'd hate to admit. As Vale spoke again, she turned back to him and shook her head. "Oh, please do not mind me.. It is nothing, I assure you", she said with another smile, shaking her head. Something told her she should just leave it alone, so she would for now, no matter how her curious mind worked against her.
 
The sky was changing with the coming of nightfall, deep yellow and orange clouds speeding past as Neviha rolled her shoulders, relieving some of the pain from her tired shoulders. They had been walking for much longer than she originally thought, given the obvious change of the sky.

The Elf looked down her nose at her body, brushing some dirt off her fitted black leather pants, picking leaves from her matching black top. Grooming kept her attention as they walked, adjusting the leather straps on her chest, neck, arms and stomach. From time to time, she looked down at Esessar, but minded not with the others. It didn't seem like a necessity. Their trek had taken them through many patches of dead brush, which the Dale knew was unusual this time of year. Something, unknown to Neviha, was restricting the amount of life given into the wilds.














Finally, the scent of charred wood and flesh brought them to what could only be described as ruin. Nothing was left untouched, even the ground was turned up from could only be from large kneading claws. A thick layer of soot covered most things, except the corpses that were still slowly being consumed by flame. Without a word, Neviha walked carefully to the gruesome view, twisting her water flask open to empty it on the charring corpses that lay about in the nativity of tragedy.

"I assume we've found our Scouts..." She spoke silently, looking up at the bodies that hung from a bit of remaining stone ruins. "This was no camp accident" She pointed, noticing how the bodies of the few hung-up scouts were mauled in what looked like a ceremonial manner, giving off a whole new meaning to 'get out'.

"Darkspawn?" She turned to interrogate the Templar with her bright grey eyes, waiting for the others reactions.
 
Vale continued to walk alongside Colette as they continued towards the source of the smoke. As time passed, and the sunlight began to fade, it was getting a bit tougher for the one-eyed priest to navigate through the thick forest foliage. At one point, he walked straight into a low-hanging branch, the force of the collision snapping the tree limb in half. He paused briefly, looking only surprised and not pained. He glanced down at the branch, then up at Colette, smiling embarrassedly as he rubbed the back of his head. "Eheh, um... whoops," was all he could manage to get out, looking a little flustered. "It's starting to get dark. Think we could use a bit of light?" Tapping the bottom of his staff against the ground, a warm glowing light would suddenly begin emanating from the tip of his gnarled magical weapon, not unlike sunlight. "That's a little better." Vale gave the warrior woman another glance before continuing on after the others, picking up his pace a bit as they'd fallen behind somewhat.

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The priest could feel it. Even before they were close enough to see it for himself, there was a vile sense of foreboding hanging in the air, wrenching at his very soul. When they came upon the destroyed camp, his fears were confirmed. The sight of the mangled bodies gently swaying in the breeze made his heart sink. Planting his staff on the ground in front of him, his magic light faded as he bowed his head and closed his eyes, taking a moment of silence to offer a prayer in his thoughts for those poor souls. After a short time, he'd slowly make his way over to Neviha and Morven, his face bearing a somber expression. He remained silent as he listened to his teammates confer with one another, opting to stay quiet for the moment as he was still lost in his thoughts.
 
"Are you alright, Ser Vale?", she asked in a somewhat surprised tone, clearly as unexpectant of the collision as he was. Only after she had voiced her concern did she notice how he barely responded to it. Maybe Vale was steady enough to stay on his feet when she bumped into him before, but how could he snap a branch with his face and not even blink? Something was definitely odd about it, and she had quickly reached the point where her curious mind would just drive her insane if she didn't ask. Just as she was about to speak, but something stopped her as she followed the priest to rejoin the two at the group's head.

It was a pretty dark sight, and a bit depressing considering it might have been prevented if they'd been quicker. She turned her mind away before she could begin to think that they might have been even a little responsible for this, turning her head away as well. She had seen death many times before, but nothing like this - Burned corpses, men strung up by their necks. It was just.. "Terrible..", she spoke in barely an octave above a whisper. As she turned her gaze away from the grizzly scene, her eyes caught Vale in prayer. These unfortunate scouts did deserve that much at least, she thought, no matter who they were. Her mouth twitched slightly as though to smile, but the mood warded it off. Colette looked to the elven woman at the word 'Darkspawn', her eyes narrowed slightly and her hand gripping her weapon's hilt. "There is still smoke, surely they are still near.. Could you track them, Lady Neviha?", she asked, her mind set on slaying these dark creatures, even more so than before.
 
Morven glanced up at the swaying corpses, and his lips twitched, but made no definitive gesture. His hand tightened on his sword once more, and beneath his gauntlets his knuckles were white and blue from the tension. The templar let out a long, deep breath. His green-grey eyes examined each of the corpses from feet to head, from head to feet. They hadn't been here long. His eyes flicked to the dry brush and the dead leaves. The ground beneath his feet seemed to be mushy, moldering. The leaves were all rotting. Morven wondered if this is what the Golden City looked like, now that it was polluted with the taint of Tevinter Imperium, and the claws of the darkspawn.

The templar approached silently, peering down at one of the charred corpses. Morven kneeled down next to it, the base of his sword digging into the moldering grasses and leaves, his knees braced against it. He ran a gauntleted hand down the charred face of a scout, watching pieces of what was once a person flake off in his hands. Morven glanced down at the black smears on his gauntlets and nodded once. "Darkspawn." He murmured softly, in his mumbling, ashy voice. "This the work of a darkspawn." His eyes flicked up to Neviha, and he blinked once in a silent confirmation of her question to him. He stood up and looked over his compatriots.

"Watch the spaces above the ground and horizons. They spring up from the depths." Morven advised, his voice a little louder than his usual murmur. He yanked his shield up from out of its place in the ground, eyes scanning the clearing with a fevered desire to focus on all aspects of it. Impossible, of course. His eyes kept going back to the dangling corpses. His lips twitched again. They had once been people, he thought to himself, they had once been living breathing collections of meat and blood with a bit of bone to hold it all together. They once had wants and desires. He had killed things before. He had slaughtered his share of mages and men alike; women too, female maleficarum that had bargained their souls away for dark secrets. These were not mages, or templar either. They were scouts; simple military. And now, they were dead. He was entranced.

His voice came out as a soft sound deep in his throat, he wasn't sure he heard it, when he first started speaking:

"And as the black clouds came upon them,
They looked on what pride had wrought,
And despaired."
 
Esessar wondered with his Elf for quite a while, getting closer and closer to the dreadful smoke that filled his nostrils with the smell of death, rot and burnt flesh. Soon though, thanks to his height, the smoke was rising above him so he could finally breath with ease and really get a good sniff of the air. He looked up at his Elf again just in time to see her face change before he noticed a couple men hanging by ropes. Then with further examination and a couple more steps he found even more burning on the ground. He had known this was coming from the smells before but didn't know it to what extent.

His tail dropped and he watched as his elf put out one of the corpse. He walked slowly following her as he looked around at the charred bodies, he didn't like them at all. The ground was soft and left prints of his paws in the dug up soil that was already covered in countless other claw marks. He looked around with almost a dazed look that was not commonly found on a hound for most of them would not understand the significance of an even like this.

Slowly getting a grip on himself again, trying to ignore the tension that seems to fill the air constantly, and the sorrow that was building up he started to sniff around. He would get the scents should his Elf have him follow the Darkspawn. Surely they would not let whoever caused this get away scot free. They would punish whoever had done this, he knew someone would want to avenge these scouts.

Slowly Esessar began to advance further into the camp trying to get all the scents he could that might help him track down these vermin should he lose a scent. For a dog he had an above average sense of anger though he was able to control it. He was a dog after all, if someone told him to let something go he would easily be able to follow command. Nothing was held close... with his exception of his elf.
 
Neviha had expected an uneasy silence to come over the group, which she was met with almost immediatly at the mentioning of Darkspawn. The Healer had taken to prayer, something the elf admired and took the time to join in on as she walked to stand closer to the blind eyed mage. Though they prayed in different tongues, the prayer was the same- blessing the souls into a blissful afterlife.

"O Falon'Din
Lethanavir--Friend to the Dead
Guide my feet, calm my soul,
Lead me to my rest."

Peace did not last long as the Templar took his opinion to the air, warning all members of the party to keep their eyes peeled for more of the wretched creatured who had most deffinitely caused the disaster. As he seemed to retreat back into the confines of his mind, Neviha had moved to investigating the area, all while keeping a watchful eye on Esessar. The hound had taken to the scent of the bodies, ground and surrounding mess, most likely in understanding of the situation.

"There is still smoke, surely they are still near.. Could you track them, Lady Neviha?" The female warrior finally spoke up, addressing the Dalish woman in a way that she had not expected. It would have taken her completely off guard, had she forgotten that the warrior was Orlesian, and not from Ferelden.

"I'm not sure... The char is thick...but we can try... If I recall, there are only four bodies here..." She paused, pointing out at the two crumbling corpses and the two hanging from the ruins that had yet to be cut down. "The breifing told of five in the party" Her Grey eyes locked with the Orlesians, a hint of worry behind the opalescent shade.

"Before we report anything, I think it best for us to search for the last. For all we know they could be alive"
 
Vale watched the dalish woman thoughtfully as the words of her solemn hymn filled his ears. Despite his disheartened feelings, his lips managed to form a thin smile as he listened to her words. "That was beautiful," he whispered, a hint of reverence in his voice. The priest's gaze locked on Neviha as he began to realize the elf woman's words weren't the only thing about her that was beautiful; he hadn't really taken the time to notice it before, but she was rather attractive. With her striking light grey eyes, full pouty lips, and gorgeous long dark brown hair complimented by her delicate and yet capable physical features, it was a surprise he hadn't. His eyes widened just ever so slightly as the details of her form really sunk in, his cheeks perhaps just turning the faintest shade of red.

"Watch the spaces above the ground and horizons. They spring up from the depths."

His gaze may have lingered a bit too long if the templar's warning hadn't swifty brought him crashing back to reality. "Yes... yes he's right," Vale spoke, sounding a little flustered. His expression quickly returned from being that of slight awe back to a grim look, as he glanced over at the templar who was beginning another of his chants. Stay focused, he thought, mentally scolding himself.

Gripping his staff tightly, he strode up close to Morven, ready to defend their group at a moment's notice. He gave the templar a brief nod, before he began warily surveying the area himself, prepared to throw up a spell or two at the slightest hint of incoming hostiles. He didn't particularly like the idea of fighting in general, but he wasn't against protecting others, particularly from creatures like the darkspawn who were on a whole 'nother spectrum of evil themselves. He was less reserved about attacking them than anything else. At least humans, or elves, or dwarves, and even qunari to some lesser extent could possibly be reasoned with. But the darkspawn... they were just monsters.

He was taken off-guard at the mention of a possible survivor. Glancing over at the two women, he perked up just a bit. "Then perhaps our coming all this way may not have been for nothing?" he chimed in, ever trying to remain the optimist. The thought of rescuing at least one soul made him hopeful, though in the back of his mind he knew they could be just as dead as the others, or worse.
 
Neviha had joined in the healer's prayer with one of her own, different than his but every bit as heart warming in its own way. Hearing both of them give their words calmed her only a little for a moment, but anger was still largely present in her heart. Colette did not know these men personally, but surely they did not deserve the fate they had met, she reasoned.

The young woman's lips finally broke and curved into the faintest hint of a smile as the Dalish elf suggested that the fifth member of the reconnaissance team may have still yet lived, bringing some hope into her eyes as it had Vale's. "Then we should not delay for even one moment", she insisted, taking one or two impatient steps closer to Neviha, "If there is still hope of the final member's rescue, we would do best to make much haste."

Only briefly, Colette looked back at Morven, as if to ask of his readiness to move. The other members of their party had plainly confirmed their stances on the situation, and she agreed with them completely. Surely the templar would be eager to find the darkspawn that did this, and possibly a survivor. If nothing else, not that she doubted his motive, he would at least be driven by the hunt of the maleficar that was almost certain to be behind all of this. There would be no time to waste, no room for further delay. Her grip on her weapon tightened, ready to rip the blade out of its sheath at a moment's notice. Once more she stepped closer, impatience seeming to have overcome any notion toward personal space, "Please, lead us."
 
Morven took another breath of hair, drawing his surroundings into himself. He closed his eyes for a moment, and in that moment, he quickly processed his thoughts. In the Fade, there are things that seem real, but aren't. In the world, there are abominations who hide in the skins of men. In the Maker's Golden City are Darkspawn and magisters who let the Prophet burn for her love. In the Fade, demons and aberrations have power, in the world, pure faith is what gave you strength. In the Maker, there was room for judgement. He wanted to find the darkspawn. He wanted to find the maleficarum. He wanted to know what purpose they served, if there truly was another Blight -- and if this meant the time had come for the Inquisition to begin once more. The world wasn't safe, Morven knew. The world was dangerous, and full of sin, and these people (knife-ears, apostates, dogs, and warriors) needed him. They needed a leader. It had to be him.

His eyes flicked open.

"We press forward." Morven said cooly, and he began striding forward, through the bodies hanging over heard. "We were sent to find the scouts. We only found a portion." His grey eyes flicked down to one of the charred corpses. His hands tightened into fists around his shield and sword. He could feel the places where the rivets of his gauntlets were cutting him; his knuckles were bleeding beneath the metal, cut to ribbons by what was meant to protect him. He didn't notice. "Keep on your guard, and stick close together. We don't want to be on our own if the darkspawn come."

"The maleficar may practice magic that is not taught in the Circle; be it blood magic or shape-changing." The templar glared down his nose, watching the horizon as he began to move through the dry brush, walking beneath the low-hanging men, with a cautious stride. "I do not think that our maleficar can be reasoned with." He said, softly. His jaw was sore, now. That was the most he had spoke at one time in a long while, the most he had spoke that wasn't the Chant. He was going to kill this witch, and then, then he would have to produce one of the vials from his bag and do what all Templars must.
 


"That was beautiful," The Priest cast his head a bit to the side as he listened to her prayer, finally speaking up when she was finished. Her head was held low, dangling daggers of dark brown hair over her chest as she gave a moment of silence before turning to face him. Vale had been staring at her, this much she knew to be true, though she could not discern exactly why he would be looking. As a man of healing light, you would think he had heard something as simple as an Elven prayer of the dead. She hadn't even voiced the whole thing, yet he seemed somewhat astonished. Neviha lifted her chin, eyes catching Vales for only a split second before his tinted visage swiftly tilted to the Templar.
​

"Yes... yes he's right,"

"If there is still hope of the final member's rescue, we would do best to make much haste." Before the young elf could say anything, the other woman spoke up and warranted no other response but a nod from the elf. The blonde then turned and asked Neviha would lead them.

"Of cour-" She was cut off by the stern voice of the Templar, who deemed himself in charge by his quick stride to the front of the group. She would have bowed her head in pleasure of taking the lead as requested, but now with the glory stolen, Neviha simply took her place next to Vale and whistled for Esessar to start trailing whatever dark scents he could pick up. She would watch him closely and make sure to catch the scent of Darkspawn before the puffed up Templar could even get a whiff of magics.

"Keep on your guard, and stick close together. We don't want to be on our own if the Darkspawn come."For some time, she kept her mouth shut, contemplating what state the Templars mind was truely in. Was he preparing for Darkspawn or the Malefcar he spoke of so frequently? She made sure to keep her bow drawn, stepping in time between the Templar and the Priest, who was still being shadowed protectively by the warrior. Surely the man of cloth knew more than simple healing spells. In a world like this, how could you not know how to defend yourself? You would be more likely to get your throat slit walking in a shemlen city than in the wilds, after all.
Dangerous as they might be, they were still less polluted with man. Still, they had time to travel...



The wind rustled the deep green leaves as it passed through the branches of the giant trees. The moon's purplish glow cast across the ground, transforming simple shade into a threatening void. Small beings skittered around over the fallen leaves, which seemed to bare less and less coverings as they ventured in deeper. An upcoming storm threatened the group, large droplets of water plummeting from the charcoal sky, hitting the leaves with such a force that what were left were falling to the forest floor.

Neviha's boots snapped the fallen twigs as she briskly walked over the ground, still keeping her place behind the Templar. The rain had soaked her within seconds, leaving her long brown hair plastered to her heart shaped face. The long woolen cloak that kept her skin dry sucked in the rain water adding to the weight of her backpack. She had been prepared, unlike those wearing heavy armor, this she knew would not bode well.

The over all feeling of the forest had changed, which made the young woman's nose wrinkle.

"Something is horribly wrong here...." Again, the Dalish woman spoke swiftly, turning her back to her companions to look deep into the foggy wood.For a moment she could have sworn she saw her own breath as the air stood still and the rain seemingly froze in the air. From deep within, there were bright, burning lights, growing closer with every second that she remained silent.

"Get on the ground, keep as low as you can!" She spoke louder than she ever had to before, pulling back on her already prepped bow and firing a well trained arrow directing at the glow. Almost immediately, a flaming return was fired over them, burning a path through the air where they had been standing. A deadly blow, had the ones responsible been more aware of their exact location. The release of arrows sizzled against the ground, consuming the shaft of the arrow as the head was dug into the wet ground.

With a devious smile on her face, the Dale sprung up, firing another from her quiver and laughing to the female warrior.

"Your battle has arrived!"
 
"We press forward."

That was just what Vale wanted to hear. His single eye followed the templar as he confidently strode forward, intending to press on with the mission. The scarred priest grinned ever so thinly at the holy warrior, admiring the man's initiative and resolve. He'd follow in the templar's footsteps, keeping a moderate distance between himself and Morven as he did so. He gave a brief nod to Neviha as she strode up next to him, pushing down the distracting thoughts associated with the elf woman that had filled his mind early. For now, he'd just stay quiet, preparing himself for what was ahead. After what they witnessed at the campsite, it wasn't likely to be very pretty. No no, he thought, shaking his head, I must stay positive.

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Rain. Rain and mud. That was what was ahead, it seemed. Vale wiped rain droplets off of his drenched face as he trudged alongside his companions in this increasingly less-hospitable forest environment. Silent, he cursed himself for not bringing any head-wear. Even a simple cloth hood would've kept the rain out of his eyes, though his one good eye was the one that mattered. He slowed his pace briefly, brushing a myriad of fallen twigs and leaves off of his drenched garb, before walking straight into a puddle with a splash, his left foot sinking ankle-deep into the muck and further soiling the end of his robes with mud.

"Ugh," he scoffed, quickly retracting his mud-soaked foot. He cursed himself again, this time for not bringing more appropriate footwear; wooden sandals just weren't made for this kind of weather. He had to be careful not to let them slip off with each step he took, making this trek through the woods just that much more arduous. It wasn't just the weather that was off-putting, though; the forest itself seemed to be giving off a much different vibe as they progressed... something unnatural was in the air.

When Neviha spoke up, the priest realized he wasn't the only one who felt this way. He was about to comment on just that before the elf woman drew back her bow, ordering them to hit the deck and firing at an enemy he hadn't seen. He didn't hesitate to follow her instructions however, quickly dropping into a prone position in the moist dirt, just in time for a volley of blazing arrows to sail overhead. His eyes widened as one of the projectiles embedded into the softened earth close to his head, narrowly avoiding being blinded in his one good eye.

"Well then, no false alarms this time... we're definitely in the thick of it now!" The spirit healer said, quickly getting to his feet by propping himself up with his staff. His vision was obscured by the rain, but it wasn't hard to make out the second volley of flaming arrows as it came hurdling towards them; Vale was prepared this time, however. Feeling the magic surging through his veins, he waved his staff, and a sudden flash of white would follow as an opaque screen of light, in the shape of a semi-circle, would appear between the party and their enemies. The arrows screaming towards them would splinter and shatter against the apparent magical cover the priest had created, and yet the elf woman's second shot would pass through it as though it weren't there. Crouching low to the ground, Vale approached the center of his magical barrier, keeping his eyes peeled for any enemies that might be approaching.

"Don't let them flank us!" He called out to the others, magical energy swirling around the end of his staff as he prepared another spell, one less defensive than the last.
 
Once or twice as they traveled together, the young Orlesian woman glanced curiously in their priest's direction, still wondering about him. She smirked a little one of those times she looked over at him, trying not to laugh aloud as she caught him fighting the mud. Other than that, she mostly kept her eyes ahead, hand rested on her blade's hilt in preparation. Eventually as they progressed, the anger that burned in her eyes had all but diminished. The foul creatures that slew those men were not forgiven and would not know her mercy, but she was calmer now. Long walks through woodland were usually good about cooling her off, and the rain that was beginning to fall added to that calming effect.

Even now, as more and more of the surrounding nature appeared dead, there was an unusual relaxing beauty to it all, especially now in the glow of the moon. Colette realized that it bode ill, likely hinted at dark forces in play, but she still found it all very pretty in a strange way. Something was wrong though, she immediately gathered when Neviha turned to peer out into the fog, and Colette's grip on her blade tightened the moment she confirmed it. For that brief, tense moment after the elf spoke, even the patter of the rain seemed to have silenced as the human girl joined her in staring toward the lights. When instructed to do so, she lowered to the ground on one knee, taking a slow breath as she watched Neviha's arrow quickly vanish into the fog.

As suddenly as fire was returned, Colette was back on her feet and unsheathing her sword. Her eyes shot toward the elf and a smirk grew across her face, nearly mirroring the smile on her own. "It is about time, I was beginning to think that I would become old and gray before finding them", she said with a laugh of her own, but only a moment after did her eyes narrow and her smirk twist into one that somehow felt a bit darker, "I have been waiting for this much too long.." Without another word she charged forward, sword in hand and set to cleave through the dark creatures that awaited her. Ready as she was to tear these things apart, she'd forgotten her previous order to protect Vale. Luckily, it appeared as though he was plenty capable of defending himself with his fancy magic.
 
If it hadn't been for the elf-girl's warning, Morven would have an arrow through his skull. He lifted his shield up aove his head, his knees bending, and spreading slightly apart so that he was able to actually heave the thing upwards. The flaming projectiles bounced harmlessly against the shield, falling to the ground and singing the dry leaves. Embers were stirred up as he adjusted his stance; setting his shield infront of him like a wall. He stayed close to the others; knowing that going on his own would be his end. But then, he watched Colette charge blindly forward; going off on her own amongst the crowd of fiends. Morven grit his teeth in his mouth. He stood his ground, planting his feet into the ground.

His heart was pounding in his ears as he looked at the lights, watching them advance upon them. It would not be long before another volley of arrows was unfurled. As it stood, he was a sitting duck; he and his compatriots. Morven glanced quickly to Vale, and nodded once, as if to signal a 'go-ahead', but his eyes drifted to Colette's back as she moved away fromt he group. That was not how Templars were taught. They knew that they had to work together, as a unit. If they did not, they were lost. Despite the mages that he had murdered, he had protected them as well. He had seen magic gone wrong, or over-zealous men abuse their charges in temples, circles, and encampments. Morven had no love for mages, no, but he would not see a resource die. He stuck by Vale, shield up.

The lights were advancing. The arrows would be fired soon. Another volley. Morven closed his eyes for a moment.

The forest melted away. He was home, in the White Tower. He was sitting at his little desk that he shared with other recruits, and his fingers traced the illuminated letters that made up the Chant of Light. He remembered the way the vellum felt beneath his fingertips, as he mouthed the words of the Prophet Andraste. She was there, with him too. Her hands were on his shoulders, and Her face was next to his. She helped him read the words, and Her voice was like a song. The light from Her body made the words of the Maker readable in the darkness of the White Tower. She flickered like a flame.

He opened his ashy eyes, and raised his sword. His hands were shaking, and blood was filling his gauntlets from his too tightly clenched fists. He pointed it, from around his shield in the direction of the incoming lights. From his sword's tip emanated a piercingly white light, as sharp and hard as the templar's face. The light rushed from his sword in the direction of the incoming horde. The Holy Smite would leap around them, if it was successful he knew. It would spread like wildfire. All would be bent and bowed from it. Their scabby knees would fall to the earth, and they would kneel before them.

Morven readjusted himself, sword out from around his shield, but it was no longer glowing. The flame had ripped away from it, and danced through the trees and undergrowth, fleeing the templar to take root in the monsters. He cleared his throat, feeling the smoke from burning leaves and embers claw at his throat, and singe his nostrils. Smoke was beginning to curl up from around his feet. "Vale. Cast your spell now." He murmured "They ought to be stunned."

Morven felt a gnawing in his stomach, an emptiness that would have to be sated. The pounding in his ears had turned into an aching in his temples. Perhaps the smite had been too much. Perhaps he would suffer for it. But for now, he had to keep a clear head. He swallowed hard and watched his work.
 
Neviha was in her own little world, deciding to scale another tree and cover the confident warrior as she charged off into danger. After hse found her perch, she fired off her first arrow, which wizzed through the air until finding it's permanant home in the socket of a darkspawns head. Until the the enemy got closer, she wouldn't let Esessar go out into the front lines. This was her first dance with darkspawn, and there was no way she would risk his life.

Vale had put up a barrier, which flexed and shimmered as her arrows were allowed through it to find their mark. This was helpful, but the elf was unsure what the Templar planned to do. From her spot in the trees, it looked as if he had accomplished nothing but deflecting some arrows. Why was he stalling?

Neviha focused back on the warrior, aiding her as much as possible with a barrade of arrows, skillfully making contact with the enemy that the warrior could not keep her eye on.
 
The crippled apostate would've normally been reluctant to follow the orders of a templar, but he knew that in the midst of battle, there was no room for hesitation. Without a second thought, he rose to his feet, the magic building up in his body coming to a peak, an aura of wisplike strands surrounding his form. With an agile swirl of his staff, he'd stab the bottom of it into the rain-soaked soil, a brief flash of light emanating from the very end of his magic weapon, loosing his spell on the enemy; suddenly, there was a loud whooshing noise, as several of the staggered darkspawn were sent hurdling high into the air. Mercilessly, they were thrown clear, far above the forest canopy, some of them crashing through tree branches and such during their ascent. Moments later, a few, though not all, of their bodies would plummet back to the earth, limp and lifeless.

Vale gasped, sweat drops beading his brow. It'd been a long time since he'd been forced to defend himself like this. He wasn't given much time to contemplate the matter however, feeling a presence looming behind him; he turned just in time to see a rather muscular hurlock clad in rusted plate armor swinging a longsword at him. He was barely able to block the blow with his staff, locking weapons with the assailant, somehow managing to stay on his feet despite the force of the darkspawn's attack. Pressing its blade down hard against the priest's staff, its ugly maw formed a wicked grin lined with jagged teeth as it felt Vale begin to budge. With its free hand, it viciously swiped at the healer's side with a clawed gauntlet, causing the priest to cry out in pain and falter, giving it the edge it needed to finally shove the mage back.

Falling to his knees, Vale struggled to steady himself, leaning on his staff for support. The darkspawn approached, laughing in it's guttural, demonic voice. Taking its longsword in both hands, it raised its weapon high, intending to bring it down on the injured healer. The priest closed his eyes, bracing for impact...
 
The fight appeared to be heating up just as suddenly as it had begun. Arrows were flying past, many just barely missing the warrior as she charged into battle. She didn't seem to notice them however, or much of anything else. Morven's holy light was enough to catch her attention briefly, but even that failed to slow her down. The dark smirk on her lips grew into a grin as she neared her first victim, not appearing phased by it's horrible appearance. Most bandits weren't much prettier, but still there should have been at least a moment of pause. Maybe it was the adrenaline that guided her blade across the Darkspawn's throat without hesitation.

The young woman's grin stretched as blood spattered against her armor and face, it might have been a disturbing sight were her allies not focused on the enemy. Now that one had fallen by her blade, there was no way she was going to slow down. The excited, perhaps somewhat unstable woman drove her sword through one Darkspawn after the next, soaking the forest floor with black. One could probably connect her love for battle, or slaughter rather, to issues with her family. That wasn't so important right now though, heads would continue to roll, issues or no. That would soon begin to slow, however, as so few remained around her. It seemed most of the creatures had been eradicated by the combination of magics Vale and Morven had loosed.

Colette's grin faded as she effortlessly pulled her sword out of the chest of a genlock, eyes darting about in search of more enemies. Soon her sick grin returned, she had found another creature to sink her blade into. The blonde made haste, quickly closing in on her prey and running her blade through it's back. That wasn't enough though, of course not. As suddenly as the blade pierced the spawn, it pulled out and penetrated again, and again, and again. The creature was but a pin-coushion, spewing and coughing blood before the crazed warrior finally finished it off with one clean strike through the neck.

As the beheaded Darkspawn's body fell to the ground, Colette caught sight of the kindly healer. Had she taken one moment longer to strike this particular enemy down, it could have been the end for the man. That realization hit her hard and sobered her up, snapped her out of her adrenaline fueled frenzy. She thrust her blade into the ground and closed the gap between herself and the mage, reaching down to offer her hand. She frowned as she stared down at the man, thinking to herself.. She would have to keep her head and focus more, otherwise the next time she or an ally might fall.
 
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