The Way Of The Champion

Prologue: "The Destruction Of Lothering"

VARRIC

Varric Tethras remained silent as he was taken down a series of long and twisted hallways. He knew exactly why he was here. He knew he deserved to be here, and he knew he was going to do what he did best. Spin a story, and walk out free. There was a man on either side of him, each one holding an arm tightly, basically dragging him as they walked.

They carted him through an open doorway, slamming it shut behind them, and throwing him violently into a chair. They then positioned themselves on either side of him, acting as guards sort of, ensuring that he would make no attempt to escape. They clearly didn't know him very well.

The only person in the room aside from Varric and the guards, was a woman. She was looking at a book, her face and much of her features shrouded in darkness. The main light source was shining directly on Varric. He sighed, glancing at the woman, and then cracking a light-hearted joke with a smile upon his face, "I've had gentler invitations."

She stepped into the light, getting rather close to him. A large suit of armor was what she wore, a decal of an eye in the middle of the chest plate. The whites and blues of the outfit bringing out her jet black short-cropped hair. She spoke, an accent clear as she did so, "I am Cassandra Pentaghast. Seeker of the Chantry."

Varric nodded slightly. He knew what the Seekers were, what they believed in, and what they did. How serious they were about his work. He met Cassandra's gaze head-on, though, asking rather sarcastically, "And just...what are you seeking?"

She did not laugh, nor did her stoic expression falter even the slightest as she answered, "The Champion."

Pushing his luck further, Varric asked, "Which one?"

Cassandra broke then, yelling, "You know exactly why I'm here!" She took the hefty book she'd been holding and launched it at him. He caught it, thankfully, as it would have left a nasty mark if it had hit him directly. She pulled out her sword then, holding the blade against his neck, "Time to start talking, dwarf. They tell me you're good at it." She relaxed a bit, pulling her sword back from his neck, but then ramming it straight through the book.

Varric sighed, holding the ruined piece of literature in his hands. It was a book that he'd personally written, one of many. He glanced up from it, meeting Cassandra's gaze again, "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," She demanded, "Start at the beginning."

And so Varric did. He began his tale of a man who'd change the world, for better or for worse.

GARRETT

I looked around, a pain in my chest that I'd never felt anything like before. My home, or rather, my former home, Ferelden, was absolutely desolated. The Fifth Blight had fallen upon us, and it had spread quickly. I'd rarely ever seen darkspawn prior to the Blight, but now, they were everywhere. Entire cities, the entire region had been overrun with them, as far as the eye could see.

Seeing the damage, seeing the families that had been broken, that had lost members...It angered me. I felt flames caressing the palms of my hands, my innate ability I'd had since birth, the gift of magic. Anger fueled it more than most other emotions. I had less control over it when I was angry.

But I used it now, shaping that fire and tossing it towards the nearest group of darkspawn. Watching them fall to the ground, writhing in pain, and becoming ashes, just like the rest of the city beyond them was.

Having dealt with them, I caught up to my younger brother, Carver. He was in the middle of fending off his own group of darkspawn, though not the same way I had done so. Carver didn't have magic, and instead was incredibly skilled with his broadsword.