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For pavus_redemit Kirkwall

The taste of ash lies thick in the air. For once something manages to overpower the foundry stench and blacken the perpetual orange of Kirkwall's night sky. Rubble lies massed in the streets, flung from the highest point to almost the lowest. Insanity and sudden chaos in the wink of an eye, a fateful explosion that has Cullen still blinking back blue lines, negative light impressions burned onto retinas.

Knight-Commander Meredith has left the Champion with an ultimatum that she not surprisingly doesn't take, murder her companion and choose their side, or the mages will all face the consequences. Hawke has vowed to fight to the bitter end to protect the mages of the Circle from the Right. Cullen privately hopes that she'll keep that word whether he agrees with her sparing of the abomination or not. This is all moving too fast with blame falling in the wrong quarter. The right answer isn't more blood. Meredith is implacable with all of them drawn along in her wake of righteous fury.

Cullen doesn't stay silent, arguing about the Champion. Surely arrest will be enough. Kirkwall's nobility won't stand for one of their grudging own being murdered by the arm of the Chantry. It isn't their place, Viscount or no Viscount in office. To his surprise, he earns concession on that front.

Then there is no more room for talking. They come upon their first wave of demons and abominations slaughtering unfortunates. The night turns red and black, a mist of blood and ichor. Cullen bashes his way through wave after wave of evil torn straight through the Veil, called by violence and horror. His sword arm burns. His shield feels as though it gains twenty pounds of its own volition, all of that before they reach the Docks District.

He hears a sound up toward the boarded up Qunari compound, more fighting. He peels away from the main force following Meredith, promising to catch up shortly, and runs up the steep steps. Breathless at the top, he sees flashes of fire past the barrier. He throws his weight behind his shield and bashes it in enough to gain entrance. A lone figure stands in the long abandoned plaza battling demons with magic and not an abomination himself. Without further thought, Cullen charges into the fray. "Aid behind you!" he shouts. He doesn't want to be mistaken for another enemy in the fight.

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The last goes down with four swords thrust into its shiny abdomen at once. Silence descends back on the cave, until Aveline's voice calls out, "That's how you clear a cave. Good work, everyone. There's further to go. Stay sharp."

Cullen cleans his sword against his skirting but keeps it drawn. It was good work. It was a balm to the spirits they all needed after last night. He's radiating satisfaction and the desire to take it further. If they can leave the coast on a high note, their losses won't be for naught.

Deeper into the cave blue glow worms dot the low ceiling providing some ambient light. He has always thought them beautiful, if eerie. He manages to position himself close enough to Dorian for low conversation again. "Do they have these in Tevinter?" he asks, pointing upward with his sword.

With the last spider dead Dorian sends the spirits back beyond the Veil. The skeletons collapses as if they are puppets with their strings cut. The mages breathe a sigh of relief and a few of them check on the Templars and guards if they need any healing.

He is not surprised that Cullen finds his way back to him after the fight. "We have crickets the size of mice that are pure white in the caves back home. I've only seen them in books."

The worms are a little unsettling to him. They light things, yes, but why haven't the spiders eaten them? They should be easy food.

"Eww. Eww." His nose wrinkles and his whole face scrunches up at the thought of that. For some reason that sounds more disturbing than giant spiders, and he can't even say why that is. He feels like a kid trying to work up the courage to touch something slimy and shakes his head at his own reaction. "Can you imagine if it jumped on your head?" He shudders.

"I've always liked these. When I was little, my siblings and I would sometimes gather a few from the caves and keep them in jars in our rooms at night. We'd put them back before they could die. I have no idea what they eat. Maybe minerals from the rocks like nugs." It's better in this part of the cave, no side passages for sudden ambush, and the ground descends at a more gentle slope. He can hear water running in the distance.

"As I'm already trapped in a cave with disgusting creatures. I don't want to imagine anything but sunshine and wine." He shivers at the idea even though he said he wasn't going to think about it. He failed that step obviously.

They haven't seen any nugs down here. The spiders probably ate them a long time ago. "I'm wondering why the spiders haven't eaten them, not what they eat." Perhaps it's grim of him but he's in one of those mindsets.

"Maybe they taste bad," he says, glancing up again. Considering the fact that he has handled them many times in his life with no ill effects, he's not worried about what they can do. "Or maybe they think they're pretty, too." It's tongue in cheek, something to try to get him out of worry mode if he can.

"Trust me. Of all the things we could find down here, the glow worms are the least dangerous." OK, that sounded more reassuring in his head than when it came out. His smile is a little sheepish.

"I can tell you're trying to be reassuring but you've failed utterly Knight-Commander," Dorian says dryly, giving Cullen a look. At least the man seemed to realize his mistake and was appropriate chastised.

They had yet to encounter more spiders. Dorian isn't sure if that's a good thing or not. They couldn't have killed all of them already. "From what I remember of history Kirkwall was a hub of the Tevinter slave trade. At one point they used these caves for storing cargo. Have you found any ruins down here?"

"It sounded so much better in my head." He doesn't believe for an instant they've seen the last of the spiders. The behemoth they fought had to come from deeper and likely spawned countless progeny. Hopefully they ate one another as they grew. It seemed to be the way of these deeper cave spiders. It also meant the survivors were exceptionally tough.

He nods, frowning. "Yes. We're always running across ruins, either Tevinter or remnants of dwarven civilization before the Deep Roads were overrun by Darkspawn. Those places contain far worse than spiders." Undead by the hordes, revenants, arcane horrors, demons. Kirkwall's depths are even worse than its surface and places he avoids venturing whenever he can.

Dorian frowns at that. He wanted to take a look at them but if they were too dangerous he couldn't do that. He doubted Cullen would approve it and he wouldn't be able to get anyone to accompany him.

"Perhaps I'll have to read more modern history then. I'm curious about what people have found," he says to explain himself. "I might throw books at how wrong your historians are but I'll give them a try."

"I'll be glad to show you what accounts we have in our reports archives. It's not sensitive material. Not all of the knights making their reports will ever win any prizes at writing. The information is solid and accurate. There are maps, too. One of the ruins is at Sundermount." Not that he suspects Dorian is in any hurry to want to return there soon.

The sound of running water is getting louder. Aveline's voice comes from up ahead, sharp but not alarmed. "Hold!"

Cullen cuts a glance at Dorian then steps forward in the column to see what the problem is. When he reaches her it's all too obvious. There's a sheer drop-off into blackness with no obvious path or way down. The closest mage bends to pick up a rock, lights it with a soft glow, and hands it over to be tossed down. Cullen does so. It sails down, and down, and down until it's suddenly swallowed in a plop that takes a second or two to reach them.

"I don't think we're going to be able to get down there today," Cullen says.

Aveline shakes her head. "Then it's the other plan. We block the opening with rubble."

He nods. They don't have much other choice. "Back the way we've come. Keep looking sharp. We don't know where some of those spider tunnels lead. More could have come in behind us." The rear guard also determines to stay sharp in case anything comes up from the deeper cavern.

Dorian is not afraid of heights when it comes to towers and spires of buildings but the edge of the cliff and the sheer drop off make him incredibly nervous. He steps back after he sees the rock fall.

"We have enough mages to bring down enough rocks to block the entrance," he says when everyone backs away from the edge. "Give us some time to place the proper wards to crack the stone and make it fall you'll have your plugged entrance."

Once again the mages looked pleased someone was sticking up for them and their usefulness. A few of them even spoke up and offered suggestions about how to break the rocks and where. Dorian's very proud of them standing up for themselves.

"Yes, we'll do that, better than a barricade more easily removed." No one seems to think it's a bad idea. Getting out of the cave is accomplished more quickly than going in. Everyone seems to feel better about covering known territory. Luckily no more spiders emerge to plague them.

Cullen is happy to be back out in sunlight. The fog has thoroughly burned away to leave them with another fine, warm day. He makes sure all of his people are well away from where the mages are set to work. Aveline does the same with hers. When they finish up here, they'll be free to signal for the ferry and return. It's not as depressing of a thought as it would be had things not gone badly. He'll be glad of the chance to regroup.

It's a simple matter to crack stone. The mages more familiar with ice magic force ice in to every crack they can find in the stone ceiling of the cave and a few feet back. Dorian helps with the fire runes that get laid over the ice.

"If everyone could get back, please, this is going to be quite loud and dangerous," Dorian makes shooing motions to the guards and Templars, the only mage brave enough to order them around. Luckily he has enough respect to manage it. Dorian turns back to the mages with a smile. "Let's show them all it's done, shall we?"

The mages take up position and Dorian and the fire mages cast their runes, melting the ice in the rocks to create water. The ice mages follow up almost instantly to freeze the water again. It expands rapidly among the stones and cracks it immediately. The avalanche falls seconds later, completely covering the entrance to the cave.

It's satisfying to watch a well implemented plan come to fruition. The guards and knights send up a cheer when the rubble settles and the dust begins to clear. "That is the benefit of cooperation," Cullen says cheerfully.

"Now, who's ready to get off this blasted strand and back to some waiting, well-deserved ale?"

There's more cheering. They gather up all of their things and the waiting wounded and start the march back toward the beach where they're to be picked up. It will take two ferry trips as it did the first time. The guards will return first since they were the first arrivals.

"Ale?" Dorian makes a show of wrinkling his nose. "Don't you people know wine is vastly superior?"

He made a show of huffing and puffing about horrible drinks while they pack things up. The mages seem amused but the City Guard after a time, does not. Dorian pays their grumbling no mind.

Besides, Dorian has to distract himself from the inevitable sea sickness somehow. He hates these ferry rides.

"Much harder to get right now." Cullen smirks and claps him on the back on his way toward the front of the column. He and Aveline chat for the rest of the way. He hasn't forgotten their losses. It's just pointless to dwell, especially when morale is so important.

Once they're at the head of the trail down, an archer sends up a red flaming arrow. By the time they reach the strand, the ferry is there to pick up the guards. Cullen picks a good leaning spot at the foot of the cliff in the shade and relaxes such as he can in uniform. He watches the flat boat get smaller across deep blue sparkling waves. Thank the Maker the weather stayed on their side.

The guards go on their way first and Dorian watches them with a sick sense of dread. He makes a face at the ocean before he turns away. He spots Cullen leaning against a cliff and goes over to him.

"Do me a favor, knock me unconscious for the ride over," he says with a groan. "I do not want to deal with the waves."

Honestly, he would rather face the spiders again.

"I truly never thought I'd meet anyone who gets more seasick than I," he says. He's not unsympathetic. It's a wretched feeling, the queasy up and down, never able to find an equilibrium point. The sliding nausea.

"No tips or tricks ever offered me have worked, or I'd share one now." He tips his head slightly as he considers something, biting his lower lip uncertainly.

"There is one thing I can do. It would have you largely insensate for the voyage. I'm just not sure how you'll take it, and I'm doubly not sure what the other mages will think. You'd have to tell them you requested it of me."

"If it involves taking away my magic I want nothing to do with it," Dorian says immediately and firmly. He will take his rolling stomach and possibly throwing up over the side of the boat over the loss of something so vital to him. "I appreciate the thought but I simply need some ginger and sparkling water when we return."

There would be no wine for him tonight if his stomach had any say about it. Dorian sighs. "You should try it. Ginger is well known to help the stomach in Tevinter. Or is it rare around here?"

Cullen nods first, then shakes his head afterward. "I'm afraid we don't have any of that at the Gallows. You'd be hard pressed to get it in Kirkwall these days at all. We do have mint. It's not bad for stomach troubles, either, especially when taken as a tea." Or they could talk one of the mages into helping him later. They're not completely devoid of healers.

He's relieved in a way that he turned down the offer. He wouldn't be comfortable seeing him reeling from a cleanse. He's not sure how the other templars would have taken it, either. It would have been some rather unconventional justification for what is usually a combat technique.

"Of course not," Dorian sighs. The luxuries he's used to are in very short supply. It isn't like he has the money to pay for them right now either. He longs for the days of easy money if not the suffering of Tevinter society.

He glances over at Cullen, considering him for a moment. "Join me for a cup of tea once we get back?"

"All right," he says without having to take much time to consider it at all. He enjoyed their conversation the night before. The thought of some quiet down time with him back at the Gallows is far from onerous.

"My treat. I have some very decent mint tea. I think you'll enjoy it." It's one of his few indulgences he allows himself to splurge on when he gets the chance. He has a few other herbal teas, too. The mint is some of his favorite.

"We can take it in my antechamber." He almost never uses the sitting room in front of his bedroom. It's well appointed, and he knows they're unlikely to be disturbed.

Apparently, Cullen's not worried about what people will thing. His ease in accepting is nice to hear. Dorian ducks his head and hides his brief short smile.

"You have an antechamber?" He scowls at him like he's jealous. "I'm still sharing quarters with other mages and you have an antechamber. I see how fair the treatment is here."

Dorian huffs for show. A great deal of the mage part of the gallows was destroyed in the fight. It's lucky they have the space they do.

"One of the very few perks of this job," Cullen says, snorting a quiet laugh. "It's a nice one. Very comfortable. Pity I almost never have occasion to use it."

Meredith's old quarters were even nicer. He hasn't been able to bring himself to set foot there since an initial foray to search for documents and anything relevant to the running of the Gallows. It's too depressing and disconcerting. At times he contemplates sealing the rooms off altogether.

"You'll be the first guest I've had in..." How long? Since before Thrask's murder, easily. "Let's hope I recall how to play host."

"There's something comfortable in the Gallows? I'm shocked. I thought the design scheme was depression and chains."

Perhaps it was a bit unfair to Kirkwall but honestly the place was a shit hole. Yet, there were hints of Tevinter architecture everywhere and they made Dorian homesick when he picked them out.

"I'm sure you're manners will be charmingly rustic," he drawls giving Cullen a sympathetic look. "If you make a mistake I'll politely correct you."

He puts on a mock expression of pique. There's a certain set to his mouth that gives him away. He's not as good at bluffing when he's fighting amusement. "I'll try my best not to stir my tea with a serving fork."

He folds his arms in a soft clank of mail and tips his head back against the warm rock face. It's going to be a bit of a wait for the ferry. The sand is too shifty for him to want to try to sit down here. It's also just damp enough it could seep into seams or joints of his armor. Better to stand.

"I think you could say that of the whole city," he says, returning to an earlier point. "It was a major port for slave trade, after all. I'm sure you saw the statues coming into the harbor."

For pavus_redemit Kirkwall

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