[indent][color=gray]The night set upon them quick. Nothing but naked branches from a season so bitter they had to shed unless they were evergreen. The gaps in the canopy allowed for pure moonlight to bleed through them and illuminate the forest floor. Leaf litter scattered everywhere, making it somewhat impossible to sneak around with the amount of noise generated from the crunch of metal on dying plant matter. The orb of immaculate light was unobscured by cloud or any other embellishment in the sky. The stars commanded much less respect having been smaller in comparison. They might as well have not been there at all. The cool chill sank into the ridges of barks, seeping into the soil making the dirt compact, and past the metal of their armor, sapping their strength. 

Condensation was apparent in the clouds of hot air coming from their haggard breath and steam rising from the nape of the neck and dome of the head. The small squadron of templar soldiers, led by none other than Roderick, had been hot on the heels of a troupe of apostates. Normally apostates were a one to two templar mission depending on rank. However, the troupe of unlikely mages was under the head of a maleficar. There were talks or rather hushed whispers that they were using mind control to dominate the will of these other apostates. Their morals loosely brought them together and the Maleficar was the glue to bring them into one being. A unity of sorts, one without consent or decision. 

The flickers of fire and the cracking of wood splintered as the wood burned through the chemical processes within. The flames were strong enough to show the faces of the Templars sitting on logs with helmet set neatly next to them. There were 5 in total, including Roderick, all chatting and huddled by the fire to warm their bones. Roderick was not seated nor near the open fire, instead he stood by the edge of their camp and looked out to the thicket and the moon that loomed over head.

“Why not fancy yourself a seat Captain?”

[color=E7D27C]“Knowing a Maleficar is still out there, is enough to warm my blood.”[/color]

“But we been searching for a fortnight nonstop. We’re almost out of the Brecilian Forest and it ain’t even dawn yet.”
 
[color=E7D27C]“Any longer and they will be in the safety of the walls of Kirkwall. We can’t let that happen”[/color]

“Aye sir, at least eat something before we continue.”

[color=E7D27C]“I will Rhett, thank you for your vigilance”[/color]

Except this was a lie. Roderick had not eaten for he wanted to be on an empty stomach, at any moments notice the mages could appear and an empty stomach would allow lyrium to enter his body almost instantaneously. While his men warmed themselves and steeled their nerves, he started on the lyrium veins beneath the soil once more. The tracks had ended here and started nowhere else. It was a sickly feeling that was pressing on the front of his chest. It was too convenient for them to have vanished. They must have known they were only a few steps behind. 

Roderick's concentration was broken by the gurgling of liquid frothing from a soldier’s mouth behind him. The long sword of Rhett had pierced their brother’s chest, tears welled up in Rhett’s eyes as if he had not meant to commit such a grave sin. The flame extinguished in both the eyes of the Templar impaled on the sword as well as the pit that kept them warm. Mages sprung from the shadows of the trees surrounding the area. It was an ambush; they had been there the whole time. They were just biding their time for the perfect opportunity. A cloud blocked the light of the moon, pulling a shade of darkness over the camp. Nothing but the whites of eyes and teeth could be seen. Roderick only able to see his sword directly in front of him realized what he must do. 

Lyrium filled his body in what felt like cold swirls, traveling from the passages in his throat down to the base of his gut. What happened next was a blur. 

Roderick jeered awake from a log he had been perched on. Cold sweat left the inside of his clothes soaked with moisture. Besides the sweat was the sickly smell of iron that clung to not just his clothes but stained his skin. His fingers mapped out his skin, ensuring none of the blood was his. The stars and moon had gone and now the warm rays of the sun began to announce their presence. Only on the rise of the sun did the dark curtains rise to show what had happened. Bodies were splayed everywhere like mannequins carefully prepped to showcase leather worked wares. Templars and apostates alike, devoid of life and any purposeful meaning. 

A sadness sunk to the bottom of Roderick’s chest. Knowing he couldn’t falter and lower the mask he created for himself, he grit his teeth and stood up. Aided by the weight of his sword that had been planted in the ground. The next few minutes were used to assess the damage, retrieve his crews’ personal items, and get a head count of who had fallen. All the mages perished save for one, the Maleficar. 

[color=E7D27C]“Kirkwall”[/color] a muffled confession escaping his lips. 

The tired knight had made his way to the Free marches and eventually to the outskirts of Kirkwall. A hot meal, a drink, and the comfort of a bed were his priorities. Finding information would come later. He had no issues entering the city, just as anyone who was seeking refuge or trade. The day set with him. The following morning, he looked for answers and anything anyone might have seen, but it all summed to nothing. He followed the lyrium best he could, leading him back to the outskirts near a cave. His sword drawn he took a careful canter towards the cave. It was too late again; he could feel his mind losing autonomy over his body. His body twisting and contorting so he spun around and saw the Maleficar. 

“I was hoping you weren’t as foolish as you looked. Falling for my trap, not once but [i]twice[/i]? How the chantry must have fallen.”

[color=E7D27C]“You’re right I was the last of the good ones”[/color] his words left him with exasperation. 

“Well, if you’re one of the last good ones, let’s see how you get out of this one.”

In truth, Roderick didn’t have too much. An arrow slithered out from the darkness of the cave behind him and shot cleanly through the neck of the maleficar. His body went limp, allowing Roderick to move his. Heaving in air, Roderick fell to his knees whilst messaging his throat before looking up. A large Qunari stood only looking down at him. [color=E7D27C]“Who are you?”[/color]

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