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Dragon Age: The Black Warden
Chapter One: The Lesser Evil

Once upon a time the Elf would have given anything to see the grand spires of Minrathous crumble and see the arrogant Magisters in chains. Not once in his wild fantasies, however did he imagine that he would be sharing those chains. There were twelve of them in total, all chained together, Magister, Soporati, and Slave alike, all being dragged through the rubble strewn streets of one of Minrathous' outer districts. The inner city was gone, the Magisterium, Minrathous Circle, Argent Spire, and the surrounding noble houses and shops replaced by an immense sinkhole from which marched a seemingly endless army of Darkspawn.

The troupe of prisoners were marched out into a cleared courtyard, under the watchful eyes of over a dozen Darkspawn overseers where they joined a seething mass of other prisoners. An aura of uncertainty pervaded the air as the prisoner's milled about, trapped and waiting. The Courtyard had once been used as a place to auction off Slaves and so to one side was a raised wooden platform. All eyes turned to this stage as a figure strode into view, armored boots rotting and twisting the wood under him as he walked. As one the prisoner's shivered in fear, staring up at the Black Warden. Despite being unable to see the face behind the helm, the elf fancied that the Warden was observing them all. When he felt the figure's gaze sweep over him he felt a cold tingle run up his spine.

Suddenly, after what felt like an eternity, the Black Warden raised his hand, sword clutched in an armored fist, and the elf felt the atmosphere in the courtyard change. It began at the outer limits of the crowd of prisoners, small cries of fear and pain. Panic grew in his chest as whatever was happening got nearer. He looked down as something below him caught his attention and saw, with horror, tendrils of blood, blackened with the Taint of the Darkspawn snaking between his feet and those around him. Sudden he cried in pain and the blood attacked him, lashing out at his exposed ankles and digging through skin and flesh in search of veins. A fire burning agonisingly inside him and he clutched at his chest, the world going dark. The last thing the Elf saw was the eyes of the Magister next to him as they turned black and he knew that his own eyes had done the same.

Mirianne d'Fleur

The camp lay sprawled out before Mirianne as she rode down and incline towards the nearest sentries, preparing for the inevitable challenge. The tents were pressed up against the southern banks of the Minanter River, where the soldiers had dug in, erecting what fortifications they could to ensure any army attempting to ford the river from the north would find the task nigh impossible. Just to the south lay another camp, a sea of multicolored tents that had been erected with haphazard randomness even as the ones by the river were ordered with military precision. Mirianne had read reports about the number of refugees that had fled Tevinter, but seeing the sheer number of tents laid out made the numbers on paper seem woefully inadequate to convey the truth. On the other side of the Minanter lay the Silent Plains, an inhospitable looking grassland that looked all the more barren for the endless ocean of Darkspawn that lay camped several leagues but from the river, their number stretching north to the horizon.

The sentries called out to her and her guards as they reached the base of the incline, demanding they identify themselves and state their business. She left the talking to her guards and before long they continued into the camp, directed to a large pavilion above which flew the standard of Lord Commander Theodore Van Markham. The trip through the camp was a sullen one, tired faces looked up at Mirianne as she passed. Finally she reached the pavilion and dismissed her guards, sending them to join the defenders near the riverbank as agreed, and then stepped into the command tent.

Van Markham was waiting for her, along with a few advisers, standing around a low table over which was laid a map of northern Thedas. Miriane made her introductions to the Lord Commander and asked after the state of affairs. "Things aren't good, My Lady." Said Van Makham, gesturing at the map. "The river hampers the Darkspawn's movement so we've been able to hold the south bank so far, but we've had to fight tooth and nail to do so. If we don't get relief from the south soon, the bastards will just roll over us eventually. Forgive my language." Mirianne was aware that the news would not be good, but there one other point the Lord Commander had failed to mention. "What about their leader? This Black Warden?" Van Markham sighed, leaning against the edge of the table. "We haven't seen him on the field of battle for many months, and we're sorely grateful. Twice he's come out to engage us directly and both times we've been sorely defeated. First was here." He pointed at a spot on the Silent Plains, where the old Tevinter/Nevarra border had been. "He broke our forces and forced us into a fighting retreat to and old border fort here." Again he pointed, this time over a dozen leagues south of the original point. "We held there for over a month before the Warden appeared again. The fort fell within the night and we were forced to retreat to where we are now. We destroyed the bridge along the Imperial Highway, along with about a hundred more bridges in either direction, meaning this ford here," His fingers stabbed down at the point where the forward camp was. "Is the only place where any sizable army can cross and here we've held them, at least until that Monster comes out to kick us even further south. But that's all that Inquisition Wench's responsibility now." He said a distinct tone of dislike in his voice as he spoke about the new Grand Marshal.

Mirianne took a moment to digest all the information she'd just heard. Warcraft hadn't been a big part of her education, but she knew enough to understand that any small aspect could make all the difference in the world. "What can my taskforce do?" She asked simply. "The Southern Alliance will be here in a few months, so what do you need to hold until then." Van Markham didn't hesitate. "Magic. We need magic. Every time the Darkspawn attack the river we lose countless men to their damned mages, those Emissaries. Their magic cuts us to pieces with impunity while they remain unassailable behind their infantry forces. We don't have enough Mages of our own to combat them." The man glanced at his advisors before continuing, dislike once again colouring his tone. "We need the Tevinter Mages from the refugees, but their too busy quarreling amongst themselves. They scheme and plot against each other while Nevarran blood drains into the Minanter to protect their worthless hides!" He slammed his fist down on the map table before making a visible effort to contain himself. "Unfortunately the situation is even more complicated than we originally expected." He looked to one of the men standing off the the side and nodded.

The man stepped forwards, revealing himself to be a youth, not much older than Mirianne herself, with short brown hair and blue eyes. he was wearing the armor of a Tevinter Mage, with a light blue mantle over his right shoulder. "I am Killian Tavus, my lady." he said, affording Mirianne a formal bow. "I am, or was, a junior member of the Magisterium. I well understand that my countrymen can be...stubborn," He ignored a scoff from Van Markham and continued. "But we were making progress toward unification. All of us want to see the Darkspawn defeated and driven back. It's just a matter of convincing my brothers and sisters to work together. There was a Magister who was working towards that goal and, had infact convinced a great many to follow him, but-" The lord Commander stepped forwards, cutting Killian off. "But the blasted Darkspawn managed to sneak a raiding party past our defences further down the river and kidnapped the man! Snatched him right out from under our noses and the bloody Tevinters won't budge without him!" Killian cleared his throat, ignoring the insult. "Yes, quite. Also it seems rival powers within the...former Magisterium believe his absence to be an opportunity. They're eroding his influence and threaten to undo everything he's accomplished." Van Markham spoke up once again. "We need that man back, alive. If you want to help, that's how you can do it. I have scouts out tracking the raiding party. They went east, likely to try and find another place to cross the river. My scouts will meet you and whoever you can muster at the next river outpost out that way, they'll help you find the Darkspawn. And take this Tevinter with you. He wants to helpful, so let him help. You're all dismissed."

Mirianne didn't take any offense at the Lord Commander's gruff dismissal, neither did the Young Tevinter mage seem offended. Together they left the command tent and at the young man's insistence, Mirianne began to lead the way over to where she'd been told anyone willing to join her task force would be assembling. When the Divine had decided, in her wisdom, to form the task force, she had her agents distribute handbills all over Orlais, Ferelden and the Free Marches, requesting anyone with will and ability to aid in the Darkspawn Crisis to report here, to the Forward Camp, where they would be directed straight to Mirianne. She and the Tevinter Mage arrived at the meeting point, where a tent had been placed aside for her. It was on a small hill on the eastern side of the camp and afforded them with a decent view of the river and the Silent Plains beyond. Mirianne was disinclined to conversation for the moment, her thought occupied by the wealth of information she'd just absorbed and Killian, for his part seemed content to stare off to the North, watching the blighted horde that was slowly devouring his homeland.
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