It had been hours since Daeron and Storm Beak had dropped Rosalie off amongst the lands of the Bannorn. They had offered her a drop off while they were heading for Denerim since it was on their way. It was an uncomfortable coincidence that they ran into each another yet again, especially in Serault. 

She should really just have been glad it was someone she knew that found her poking around the former Marquis mansion. That would have been a hard situation to explain to a complete stranger but thankfully Daeron didn’t ask too many questions, at least not this time.

Her aim in the Bannorn was to find different herbs and components that she required. She’d managed to find a decent haul of elfroots and she’d even managed to find a few spindleweeds along the banks of a river that she happened upon. It wasn’t as much as she had hoped for but it was better than nothing. 

The wind chilled her bones, as it hit against her exposed arms while she arranged the herbs into their appropriate pouches in her pack. Her mind drifted for a moment as she began to hear the noises of battle again. She snapped herself back to the present, focusing on the herbs in her hands but the sounds did not abate. 

Rosalie had been hearing yelling and fighting all throughout her herbal hunting and didn’t understand why the noises didn’t go away. It usually worked if she focused elsewhere but this time was different. These noises were not within her mind, they were actually happening somewhere nearby.

She grabbed her pack, slung it on her back and gripped the shaft of her speared staff before heading in what she believed to be the direction of the fighting. She gathered her cloak around herself, protecting herself from the ever increasing chill in the air. Her right hand held on tightly to the mahogany wooded staff that was half hidden beneath the fabric of her cloak, hiding the bluegreen gemmed portion of her weapon whilst the bladed end protruded in front of her. The point was cast downwards, towards the ground, as she walked forward with purpose. Her left hand gathered the hood of her dirt brown cloak over her vibrant hair so as to help conceal her coming approach to any that would try to stop her if they so wished.

Night was beginning to win out over the low evening sun when Rosalie happened upon the first signs of source of all the noises dancing through her mind. There were numerous bodies strewn around the outskirts of the battlefield that stretched out before her. Countless darkspawn, elves, dwarves and humans alike were scattered before her very eyes. Her chest ached as she looked upon the carnage. Her eyes were soon to follow as a bright flash illuminated the entire battlefield. It took her by surprise and caused her to raise her left arm to shield her poor eyes from being momentarily blinded. It was only because of this light that Rosalie had noticed a movement from the corner of her eye.

A hobbled Genlock that she had believed to be dead was clearly taking advantage of the blinding light. There were too many people that could see her in this illumination so she opted to remain incognito for the time being. She dove out of its path as it charged towards her, the rusted and rotten blade in its hand took a swing at her. The blade missed her by centimetres, luck seemed to be on her side tonight. 

She spun around to face the Genlock once more and a look of pure hatred flashed across her face as she watched the vile cretin stumble over itself before landing face first into the dirt. It let out a rasping cry that was muffled by the grass and earth that now resided within its maw.

Her knuckles turned white as she clutched her weapon tighter, the concern and anger on her face would have been clear for anyone to see if it were not for her hood. While the creature regained itself, Rosalie took the opportunity to fully expose her weapon to the night skies.

The spruce coloured gemstone within the top of the staff glinted as moonlight shone through it. The mahogany wood twisted around the gemstone holding it securely in place and making it look as if the stone had been birthed from the very wood itself. The speared end had a blade of steel that looked to be around two feet in length, it was more akin to a small blade but was classed as a spear-tip upon the staff by her father. It had saved her life in more ways than one and Rosalie saw it as more an extension of herself than a simple weapon.

The Genlock charged once again but she was ready for it this time. Her blade swung upwards to meet the ragged piece of sheet metal the Genlock was flailing around. She caught a particularly crooked part and levered her blade upwards, hurling the weapon into the sky. The Genlock then took this moment to charge directly at her in a fit of indignation. 

Her staff was still firmly within her hands so the beast must have been desperate. She spun her staff before her, causing a windmill effect for but a mere moment before thrusting her blade forward, sinking it deep within the skull of the darkspawn. She dragged the creature closer to her with her staff, raising a booted foot to kick the limp body off of her weapon. As the body landed on the ground, the gnarled weapon Rosalie had disarmed from the beast earlier plummeted back down and buried itself within the stomach of the Genlock’s carcass. 

The cries of the Genlock had drawn more of the darkspawn attention to her than she had imagined it would. Two Genlocks and a Hurlock turned to face her, but they were far enough away that she would be able to outrun them if she so chose to. She debated just blasting them into the night sky but she was always wary about using her powers unless absolutely necessary. She made the decision to run for the battlegrounds and hope that someone would help her to fend them off.

She ran into the foray and found herself within a small group of three wardens. She would be better within a small group. It was then that she saw the Verge, the countless numbers of darkspawn spewing forth was ridiculous. The feeling that she had just ran into the arms of death enveloped her and she scowled at the Hurlock Emissary that was striding forward as if it hadn’t a care in the world.

The following scene caused every hair upon her body to stand on end, her blood boiled with sheer unsuppressed fury and her staff quivered in her palms. Those poor people had just been vaporised, there was nothing left to them. Death magic. Demons. Entropic forces flying through the air. Rosalie was not about to let this stand. Her nostrils flared as she moved forward, finding a clear shot towards the vile thing that would dare to use their power for such atrocious means.

She could see the darkspawn forming into shapes that made them appear to be moving as one. This was not acceptable, she couldn’t let this stand. There was so much going on, no one would notice nor would they care if she released her fury in a more useful way.

Crouching as if she were praying, Rosalie plunged the blade of her staff into the ground before her. She pushed it forward slightly, the gemstone pointing towards the nearest unit of darkspawn that was heading towards her. Her eyes glinted in the moonlight as her right hand released her staff and slammed onto the ground, palm downwards, beside her sunken blade. 

Her splayed fingertips pointed towards the mass of infestation she had followed with her eyes the entire time. The ground began to tremble before her for a second before it darted forth, along the lines of her fingertips and began to disassemble the ground beneath them causing a number of them to fall. She needed a clear path to do what she needed to do. 

She knew not all would lose their footing and she wasn’t going to take chances, her left hand raised up to the Maker above and clenched into a fist. Her voice was a whisper that oozed unadulterated conviction. [color=palevioletred]”Abattre.”[/color] Her fist punched into the back of her right hand as the words escaped her lips.

A force that could only be described as oppressive, slammed onto the unit of darkspawn from above. Combined with the broken and unsteady ground, darkspawn bodies were crumpled into the cracks between the shifting plates of earth. It was like a wrecking ball had cleared a pathway towards the head of this newly formed army and the darkspawn were the red carpet willing all those capable of fighting to push forward to cut off the head of the beast before it could bite back once again.