DA4.txt

	The Scout tied his shoes looking up at the sillouette of the approaching squad of four. Four heads bobbed in the shadows descending the stairs. Each of either a different belief or a different race. A grinn showed the scout's even teeth. It's very hard to keep a stern face looking at those who you have worshipped growing up, those you idolized. 

	The men around him were weary, most were bleeding. Some groaned, screamed. A few had even lost their limbs. But somehow for a moment every cry and scream turned to a mere squeaking as the chorus footsteps echoed in the deep roads. A desperate hope flickered for some reason...


	The scout's heart thrusted against the chest when the silver light bathed the men and woman, especially the Qunari walking at the back. The horned man was noticed first due to his size and the dual handed Mace he weilded on his back. It was the size of the scout himself. The hairs stood on the neck. Is everyone's first time this scary, this exhilirating in front of the despised Qunaris? or was he the exception!? a delusioned man living his dreams or Coming finally face the nightmares. Is this why they are hated in all of northern thedas? Because everyone is scared of them? envious of them? The Scout rubbed one hand with the other to warm it up. But mostly he was just controlling the shivers. Dry blood rubbed off from his fingers. One of his friend's.

	It was like lightning coursing through the veins. Zapping at even the smallest realization. This was really, really real! He could see it, feel it buldge beneath his skin. It was a recent instinct instilled in him by the commander. One which told him, forced him to be ready. Ready for... a Fight.

	Hard as it may have been, he turned his gaze away from the Qunari to the ones walking beside him. The woman with a shield on her back and a sword danglng on her waist. The leader of the seekers. The dwarf who was the current mayor of kirkwall. What was he doing here? Did kirkwall turn a ruin so soon after his instillment? 

	And the man who leaded them all. The one who walked in front with a only a crossbow on his back and the branding of his guild on the armor. The man with only one arm and the legend they call...

"INQUISTOR!" blurted the same friend beside the scout and everyone's ears stood up. The tired and impatient men, All facing the same direction now.

"About bloody damn time!" The man with a bleeding hand walked forward. The bandeges on his hands were already turning red. They needed eplacemednt but he neglected it, worrying more about the supplies which his men required more than him. He has always been this way. 

"Could've come a little sooner" the voice was rough.

"Sorry," the Qunari spoke. "The horns didn't fit through the doors" The smile was supposed to be a comfort but somehow it scared the young scout more. The Qunari had only one eye, the other was covered beneath a leather eyepatch.

"You think this is a Joke!" Blackwall, the second in command retorted. "I've alreay lost half a dozen of my men and several other legions of dead. Lives which could've been prevented had you fitted those horns of yours a little earlier. Our commander is missing and you can only joke!"

"Blackwall take it easy dude." Varric the dwarf among them held the commander from going into a rage.

"Your hand is bleeding" The voice was soft and serene. The only woman among them was now walking with the Inquistor towards the injured wardens. "You shouldn't move it much."

"F**k you!"

"Blackwall!" Finally Inquistor spoke. "Not another word..."

The commander didn't replied, instead frowning his face as he catched up to them. 

"I know what you all have gone through. " His hands gestured to all of the men. "The wardens have been a part of thedas as long as there has been a thedas to call of. They have been the last and only defense against the horrors of blights." He stood on an elevated rock. "Today and tomorrow, AS long as there is and will be darkspawn. There will be Grey Wardens to vanquish them. We need them" 








   

The hands shake like leaves in cold wind. But it was not fear, it was thril. The teeth clenching as he witnesses the Legends descend right in front of his eyes. He didn't blink, doesn't want to miss even a single moment even though, even though the eyes started to hurt. The people he only saw in Painting, in stories, in ballads were real, touchable, reachable. Not the unsurmontable mounatains but a achievable dream.




"I think when it comes to eating that omellet. I'll let you have my share."























They were too late. The sillouette of the warden and his allies loomed over the stairs as tey climbed ahead towards the dread wolf, towards the god of treachury. Inquisitor screamed for them to stop, to wait as he paved a bloody path through the darkspawn inch ever closer towards his....? 

What is Solas now to him? A friend to  sabve or a foe to slay? Asked the Inquisitor as he cut down a shrieker as it jumped on him. The caustic blood sprayed on his armor and helm as he stomped on the living dead to reach where Hero of Ferelden was running to.

"We won't make it in time..." 

The band of Inquisition fought cut the bush like horde in front of them. 

"We have to be there now...INQUISTOR!" Varric's shout jolted him to reality.