Seething quietly beside Drathart, Coryn Valkanar was prepared to kill the Vicar. The dirty, lying, idiot had set him up. What was worse, Coryn had even suspected something like this from the start. But there was a chance that Drathart might let him live....

No, not a man of this type. It was time for Coryn to do what he had come here to do. He grasped the amulet around his neck tightly, and turned to the Vicar, who had until now not been paying attention to him. Coryn smiled bitterly. It was not a killer's smile, for Coryn had not reached that state. It was merely one of relief, for vengeance was at hand.

Reaching out his hand, he blasted off the binding on his wrists with a surge of force, and stood up immediately. He grabbed the warlord, but the man blocked him and Coryn ended up grabbing his arm instead. Still, it did not matter.

Coryn's left hand began to sparkle with intense lightning. However, the lightning did not have enough power to kill someone outright. Any more powerful a spell would require more magical energy than the amulet alone could acquire. He would have to draw upon his own blood, and that was not yet something he had mastered.

Preparing to drive his hand into the man's chest, Coryn was ready for his revenge.

The Vicar, sensing that the Dalish Elf was attempting to strike a killing blow, instantaneously protected his chest and body from receiving any such thing. He also cast a spell to make his voice heard in only the mind of his protege.

"Oh, come now," he said slyly, gently batting the vengeful rogue's arm to the side. "Surely you don't mean to strike at what you perceive to be an enemy bishop this early in the game! You may be a pawn, but so is Krahl. Remember that! The difference is that you are a white pawn, while he is a black one. He has not accepted my offer yet, but something tells me he will--especially when he names the more specific aspects of what he wants in return for joining our side. Also remember that a pawn's greatest value is in its...promotion?" The Vicar winked. "When I am King, or rather when Krahl thinks he's going to be King and I betray him to His Majesty, Cailin Theirin will abdicate the throne in my favor. You will become my adopted son and heir."

Zero shook his head an watched the paladin walk off. He wasn't sure why she assumed he was from the other place ike Alkonium and Nierra. His guess was that it was due to his odd way of dressing. Maybe other people dressed like him in Alkonium's world. He let the thought pass and decided that his bed was the only bed for him. He left the castle and made his way back to his house and crashed on his bed. The next time he woke up was early in the morning. He took a walk into the woods and picked some things up for him and his comrades and made his way back to the Church. He found the Alkonium and Nierra talking to one another. He did feel bad for them, being from a different place and being forced into another can be scary. He walked towards them and pulled out some fruit, one for each of them.

"Hey now, we'll get you both out of here as soon as we can. I don't think we've actually been introduced to one another yet have we. Zero Vadam aka The Scarlet Spider at your service." He looked down at the fruit and then over to them. "Oh don't worry its not poisoned or anything see?"

He lifted up part of his mask and ate the fruit for him. In his hands he still held three more.

"I figured we all shouldn't set out before eating."

Thinking about this offer for a moment, Coryn quickly set aside the idea. His hands flared once more with dangerous magical energy. Sensing the soldiers around him, however, and noticing the Vicar and the warlord's eagerness to kill him should he make another wrong move, Coryn quickly dispersed the spell and began to run, escaping the warlord's camp. There was nothing but betrayal there, and Coryn would have to find another way to kill the warlord.

Suddenly, Coryn felt an arrow graze his ankle. The sharp pain nearly made him fall to the ground, but he kept up his pace nonetheless. This was a matter of life and death, and Coryn had to escape alive.

But where would he go? He couldn't have the Vicar and the warlord after him now. Perhaps his offer would still hold....

Coryn took off into the deeper parts of the forest, unknown territory to him. Running and running deeper into the darkness.

Little did he know that the darkspawn waited for him.

*****

After running for what seemed like days, in reality it had scarcely been a half hour. His legs were burning in pain by now, and Coryn could not run any longer. Collapsing onto the prickly forest ground, it was all he could do from dozing off. He lay there for a few minutes, unable to think about anything. Finally, his senses were restored, and Coryn could at least sit up to examine his surroundings.

Around him were shadows, for the dark canopy of the trees concealed any sort of object that might be useful to him. This did not seem to him to be a good place to rest, but if the warlord's men did not bother to chase him out here, then he figured that he was safe.

There were many rocks and boulders in this part of the forest, and very little plant-life, he noticed. However, the plant-life that did exist was in strange forms of carnivorous flora that it did not seem to Coryn to be a good idea to interact with.

Generally, he thought it to be a very dull and dreary place.

Reaching for his ankle, he tore off the ripped part of the breeches around the wound and wrapped them more tightly around his leather armor. It was not a bad wound, but it would not be a good idea to simply let it be out in the open like that. With that business taken care of, Coryn attempted to stand up. It was a very failed attempt.

Trying again, this time keeping the pain in mind, he managed to get into a crouch, and finally lift himself into a less vulnerable position. From there, he began to walk, and finally he was able to keep a moderate pace whilst still conserving his scarce-remaining energy.

Where he was going, he had no idea. But the slowly declining amount of plant-life should have told him something. It didnt.

"By the Chantry!" Lucien Drathart was absolutely furious now. Unlike any other pawn he'd ever known, either on or off the chessboard, he had vastly underestimated this one and its loyalties. He had even thought that the Dalish Elf would be glad to see the overthrow of the King and to be made the new King's heir! Didn't anyone know how to be grateful these days? Sniveling brats! This Elf had forgotten his place, and once Lucien Drathart got a hold of him, he very firmly intended to remind him of it...

Spinning his head around, he turned to Krahl. "Help me find him," he hissed. "That one is a betrayer, and if he gets too far into the woods and back toward Redcliffe Castle, he could expose both myself and you to the wrath of the King and his guard. I suggest that we work together, warlord."

So much for my trap. So much for my plan. Although...

There is that rogue mage that is the visible leader of my Deathstage cult.

"Alkonium Kaltas of Sharn." Alkonium replied, shaking Zero's hand. Nierra, following suit, said "Nierra Diral of Khyber. I suppose you're right, after that rough night, I could do with something to eat." She then grabbed an apple from the table took a bite. "I've noticed your manner of dress is fairly eccentric compared to the rest of the people we've seen. Any reason for that?" She asked Zero.

At the same time, Alkonium approached Shakhmaty, wondering what the plan was. "So, where are we going? Not that I'd know anything about the place, of course." He inquired. This was also a good way for him to learn about Ferelden, and understand it better.

Zero smiled and nodded to both Alkonium and Nierra. He turned to face Nierra when he was asked the question. He gave a slight chuckle before responding.

"Well my outfit here is based off of who I am. See my profession is Rogue so I needed something that could move with me. I'm really not one for bragging but I consider myself a hero. I defend the innocent and weak because they cannot. I protect the good and combat the evil. I guess since I grew up poor I always thought everyone should be treated fairly and enjoy life like the higher up classes do. So I made this leather armor here to express that I'm a symbol of hope. Someone who stands out from the norm and helps all."

He discarded the apple and looked back over at Nierra.

"Shakhmaty told me you had some trouble last night. I know its nowhere near what you're feeling but I can't say I've felt accepted alot. My parents were taken away from me when I was a child and I've had to watch my own back ever since. So I'll do whatever I can to get you and Alkonium out of here."

Suddenly Coryn stopped in his tracks. He heard the crackle of leaves and twigs. Someone was approaching. Unfortunately for Coryn, they were approaching all too fast.

A hand grasped his neck. It was extremely tight, and Coryn could only flail about to try and get loose. But it was no use. The iron hand remained, and Coryn was forced to just stand there as he ran out of air. Just as Coryn was about to faint, he heard a whisper in his ear.

"Sleep, mortal."

And then he faded away into blackness.

*****

Darkness...colors...lights...then darkness again....Coryn was trying to wake up. He felt so tired...and abused. Finally, however, he was able to get his eyes focused. He immediately wished that he hadn't.

Before him was a sight for sore eyes. There was no doubt what it was, either. Who couldn't recognize a demon when he saw one?

The demon did not seem to have an intact face. It was a grotesque figure, like an animal that was mutilated and corrupted long ago. But that was not what gave it away. It was the raw aura of fear, horror, and destruction that surrounded it. And Coryn was very afraid at that moment. The demon spoke to him.

"Ah, yes, welcome, mortal. One of my fire-borne spotted you in the forest. They are not very intelligent beasts, but they are smart enough to detect a Dalish elf that has powers it shouldn't have...." The demon did not have a clearly visible mouth, but somewhere in the alien face it appeared to smile. It wagged its finger at Coryn. Then, it became very serious, and stepped a little closer to Coryn.

"So tell me, mortal, are you here to join the ranks of the dead? If not, I'm afraid your options are very...limited...after this point." Another grotesque smile, and a hideous laugh that seemed to come from another place entirely. This thing was evil.

Coryn did not know how to respond. It didn't matter, because the demon had obviously just become aware of something. It reached for Coryn's amulet around his neck. When Coryn resisted, the demon simply used his mind to force Coryn's hands away, and it lifted the amulet towards it.

"Wait, what is this?" Suddenly the demon began to break out into insane laughter. But it seemed more like a mocking laughter than one of amusement. It almost appeared to be uncontrollable, but at last the horrific demon stopped and focused back on Coryn.

"Mortal, do you have any idea what you have been carrying? No, no, of course not." The demon paused. "Hmm. No, you are not the right material. But wait...," the demon touched Coryn, and he recoiled. Then it slowly took back its hand. "There is something about you, mortal. Perhaps...perhaps I will make you a deal, mortal. One that cannot be broken." The hideous thing laughed once more. It then turned over to a stone table behind it, and picked up a very sharp object. It was a dagger, one that almost looked to be made of blood itself, and the very thing scared Coryn even more than anything else he had encountered thus far. The demon then reached out the dagger to Coryn, who unwillingly accepted it, without any further options to him.

"Oh, stop being reluctant, mortal. Do yo realize what I am offering you? Have you ever heard of Blood Magic?"

Coryn's heart skipped a beat. His fears suddenly began to turn into desperate thinking. Blood Magic...it was the kind of power that he had been trying to attain on his own. But this...could he really accept this? It seemed he had no other choice, really.

"Think about it, mortal, as I am sure you already are. You have the ability within you to become a very powerful mage under the Chantry...or you could have all of the power you ever wanted." The demon smiled again. "There is just one exception...you must serve the Archdemon in the next Blight. But I assure you, when the darkspawn succeed, you will have your fair share of the reign." The demon gave him another grim smile. But then, it conceded a little. "Along with the other Blood Mages, of course. Of which there are very few. But you...I can see you becoming something very...special." Upon this last word, the demon smiled the most horrific smile yet, and then gestured towards the dagger. "It is your choice, mortal. Actually...no, it isn't." The laughter continued into Coryn's thoughts.

He could keep considering this...or he could give in to the inevitable. Taking the dagger up, he looked again at the demon. Wait, he was supposed to...?

Whether the dagger entered his heart of his own accord or not, he could not tell.

Shakhmaty turned to Alkonium, gazing at him somberly with her liquid cerulean eyes. "Around Redcliffe Castle," she said, "there lies a city broad and narrow all at once. It is broad in that many, many people live in it, but narrow in the way that some are treated versus others. It is to this city, commonly called Redcliffe, to which we're going. This Investigator's Robe that I wear will give us some leeway when guards on horseback approach us. Usually, if anyone, even a human in full body armor, goes anywhere near a scene of a crime, they are pushed back and yelled at with such force that it feels like an arrest. Not even His Majesty can keep the beasts at bay." She rolled her eyes. "As an Investigator, I, along with you, will have privy to the places where the murders occurred. Most in Ferelden respect the Chantry."

*******************************

Of course, there were those who did not. Lucien Drathart, running as fast as his armor would allow him, found his Pawn prostrate and bleeding in the forest. Quickly, he cast his most potent healing spell, and it closed the gaping wound in the Dalish Elf's flesh. However, noticing the dagger nearby, he wondered why the rogue had almost committed suicide. Was it because he had found out that Lucien himself was not about to betray Krahl after all? Was it because he was about to betray the King, and all of Ferelden as well?

The Vicar suspected not. He leaned close to the Elf's ear. "Are you alive?"

********************************

"Friendships have no meaning. Power has meaning."--Morrigan

Three trapped, three trussed, three killed. Three sacrificial victims had been given unto the sacred cause of the Second Blight, the Deathstage itself. It seemed like it had been ages since Morrigan, daughter of Flemeth and Witch of the Wilds, had followed a handsome young Grey Warden into battle to fight the most recent Blight in centuries. However, she had left with a gaping hole in her heart, and a void in her soul, once the last darkspawn had been slain. Killing them had given her power, and now that they were dead, what was left to give her any more power? The Warden had left her without a word, preferring other, more passive and beautiful women who'd just lie in bed and let him do whatever he wanted to them. That wasn't Morrigan's way.

Well--it was her way in a sense, except she wanted to be the one in control. After her lover had spurned her for damsels without a brain, only a chest and four openings, Morrigan decided to return to the Korcari Wilds.

There she had met Tuloj. Tuloj had brought her truth, had made her see...

He had given her the ability to perform Blood Magic. That was all that mattered. True, there was the matter of the Deathstage and bringing it about for the glory of the Chantry, all the while betraying it and Ferelden.

Betrayal. The Warden had betrayed her utterly, and she would betray in turn.

We'll make this last night together something to remember...

Morrigan spat upon the cobblestone ground, disguising herself as a stinking beggar woman on the streets of the city surrounding Redcliffe Castle.

Suddenly, Tuloj whispered to her: One more has joined our number...

Morrigan licked her lips. Good. Then, to further his Art, he will join me.

Krahl instantly disliked the two prisoners. First, he sensed that the first one, though a member of the Church, had a heart as black as Krahl's. Then the Elf tried to kill him, and that was reason enough to hate him.

He watched them as they ran off and engaged in some sort of battle. Krahl dismissed it and walked away.

Cedric was close behind, leaving the other soldiers to watch the two prisoners try and kill eachother.

"Sir...you can't possibly want to be King? Royalty and politics are some of the greatest scourges of a civilization..."

"No, Cedric...I'd hate being a King...so ceremonial, incapable, and utterly ignorant..never making the right choices, and display their weakness openly. No, I will not be King, but by the time my Crusade ends, I will be Emperor."

"Emperor, Milord? But what if this Priest delivers on his promise?"

"He won't, Cedric. He and I are alike...we deceive others to achieve our goals, making it look like we have no ulterior motives, he would sooner betray me to his King then let me have the throne."

Krahl didn't mind being open with his troops, especially with his being morally corrupt, they didn't mind it, they were the only people he could trust, and he was their only true leader. Besides, they were all completely loyal.

He stopped for a moment, "We'll play along with this priest, thought...just for the heck of it, it works to my plans far too well...."

Krahl mounted his horse, "When the fighting stops, send him to the Camp Command Quarters, I'll be their with my Personal Gaurds."

Cedric nodded, "Yes, Milord."

The pain undulated throughout Coryn's body as the dagger passed through his heart. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Withdrawing the dagger, the demon began to laugh horrificly, and lights began to swarm around Coryn. The swirling lights descended into Coryn's amulet, and it felt like he was suddenly imbued with dark power. And then it was over.

The demon placed the dagger on the stone table, and then turned back to Coryn. "Now get out of my sight, Blood Mage. I have work to do." With that, a strange darkspawn creature came up to him, and reached back its arm....

Coryn was knocked unconscious yet again.

****

Lying on the forest floor, the forever burning wound in his heart, Coryn lay trembling. He had been having violent dreams, and now he was just trying to wake up. He heard a voice.

"Are you alive?"

With a start, Coryn was abruptly awake, and feeling quite angry and scared. And there in front of him was the Vicar.

"No," Coryn responded. For right now he felt very much dead. And after the deal he had just made, he was not far from the truth.

Lucien Drathart, not much given to humor or merriment, suddenly gave one loud bark of a laugh. "Ha! You are, then!" His eyes were bright, and they gleamed with something wild and ravenous beneath them. "Glad to hear it. I can't imagine why you'd try to do yourself in, but it looks like the attempt failed. All so much the better for both of us. Dead rogues can't stab anyone in the back!" He clapped the Dalish Elf on the shoulder. Was that a joke, a promise, or a threat? Knowing the Vicar, it very well could be all three...

"Come," he said. "We've lost sight of our captor, who in this case will eventually become our captive. Ho, ho! Let's see if Krahl or any of his human war-hound lackeys have been searching for us." The two set off, and it wasn't long before they met up with Cedric, one of these said "lackeys". Soon they were sent, under guard by this Cedric, to Krahl's Camp Command Quarters. Lucien spotted the Warlord, and he rubbed his chin. Excellent.

Out loud he said, "Well, Krahl? Have you given any more thought to our bargain?" He steeled himself for a rejection, and perhaps another bloody fight.

********************************

The city! It was once a bane and a boon to the people who lived within the outskirts of Redcliffe Castle. To the rich and the Humans, and a few well-to-do merchants, the city was a paradise. Everything could be bought and sold: food, clothes, fine art and other luxuries, spices, intoxicating liquids, and even slaves and prostitutes. If you had the money, the whole city was for sale--including the royal guards who patrolled it. Even though King Cailan Theirin severely frowned upon such a practice, none of his men and women were above taking a bribe, the bigger the better. They'd turn a blind eye to everything, including murder, if you only had the coin to make them look the other way. Speaking of coins, every coin had two sides, and if you were poor, the city was hell. It was much, much better than the country--and being a serf there--but it was still hell. The light of hope hadn't been seen in the eyes of the city's poor for centuries now.

It was up to those such as Shakhmaty to give this light, and she tried to do so with all her heart. Still, one Paladin against widespread corruption and discrimination, even from her fellow Holy Knights at the Church, meant she faced a monumental uphill battle.

"This is it," she said, with Alkonium, Nierra and Zero following. "Redcliffe, the sprawling, swarming city within which our proud castle stands. It is here that we shall find the victims, and the scenes of the crime. Do any of you have a hunch as to who might know about the incidents? Let's not try to press any of the Royal Guard patrolmen for information." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "They want their palms greased..."

"I suggest we try the taverns close to the scene of the crime, listen in on the conversations. Being nonchalant about it, of course." Alkonium suggested. "That's typically how we found things out back in Stormreach." Nierra commented. "The trouble is, we all draw attention to ourselves somehow."

Shakhmaty winked. "Good idea!" She flipped her long, honey-colored hair to keep it out of her eyes, and it blazed as brightly as the sun. "See that sign over there? That's the illustrious Red Dragon, and it's...where I go," she said slowly, "albeit in disguise, if I want to drink something more than water." She pointed to the sign and, pushing and shoving their way through the crowd in the morning light, the four made their way inside the well-furnished tavern.

Before they went inside, the Paladin put up the hood on her Investigator's Cloak, not wanting anyone to recognize her hair--and thus her face--inside the tavern. It was a noisy place, and crowded, but compared to outside, it was positively deserted. It wasn't long before Shakhmaty and her three new "partners in (investigating) crime" had ordered drinks and listened:

"I swear, it's a witch that did it." Wouldn't it be their luck that they were sitting next to a wizened old crone and her two acquaintances: one old, the other not so old. "A witch that knows black magic--no, Blood Magic."

"What makes you say that?" spat the old man. "Rogue mages don't show their heads around here, and they haven't since the Circle of Magi outlawed them. They're either hunted down by Templars and put to the sword, or after they're captured, they're put to the torch. What witch would have the pair--pardon my language--to try to murder three people in such a foul way?"

"Don't ye understand?" The old woman was incredulous. "Blood Mages have, more often than not, made a pact with a demon. The demon protects them."

The younger one scoffed. "Oh, shut yer mouth, Maudelyn. Ye don't know what ye're talking about. Sure, there was a man hacked in the stables where he worked--lying in a bath of his own blood after somebody dug a pit. There was also a young lady--lady of the evening, I daresay--killed in the exact same fashion when she tried to repent of her sins and get baptized in one of our tiny city chapels. And I've heard there was..." He choked up. "A baby."

"Indeed," said the gray-haired hag. "About to be baptized, in an identical chapel, no doubt! However, it was also slaughtered in the same way as the others. Trussed and killed! Inverted crosses on the wrists, all three of them." The woman took a drink of her sour ale. "I swear, it was a Blood Mage."

Shakhmaty shivered. She knew where to look now, but she wasn't happy...

Accepting his path for now, Coryn stood. He had been given leeway and been brought back to where the demon's scout had followed him. Perhaps the Vicar could help him, after all. Once the warlord was king, then Coryn would finally be allowed to kill him. And then...who knew what would happen then.

Standing up at last and turning to Drathart, he followed him back to the warlord's camp. What an idiot he must seem to the both of them, now. A fool's attempt to run away, and he failed. But that was not quite the case....

Coryn looked down at his amulet. It was as black as night, where before it had been silver. Likely, no one would ever notice the difference, as it was not something very prominent. And the only time that they had seen the amulet was either in the shadows of the cathedral and in the dark forest. He assumed that his secret was safe for now, at least.

But something still alluded him, and he had forgotten to ask. Or perhaps the demon did not care to tell him jus then. What was so special about this amulet of his, anyway? After all, it was just an old family heirloom. True, it had magical properties, but all the same, Coryn didn't see anything so very special about it.

In time, he hoped that he would have answers to these questions. But for now, it seemed that he would have to play along in the Vicar's little "game." But it was still undecided who was the pawn....

"I hope you're not planning on barging in there, trying to cut down anything that moves. Mages on the wrong side of the law usually have fairly well fortified hideouts, or at least they do in Stormreach's sewers. Someone with an appearance like mine would probably get a Blood Mage's attention pretty easily. They might mistake me for something they've summoned, and I could take them out before they suspect anything." Nierra suggested, keeping in mind all the looks she was getting.

"That's still pretty risky. Your whole ruse could fail, and they'd kill you on the spot, recognising you for the adventurer you are." Alkonium commented, more concerned for Nierra's safety than usual. All they really had of home anymore was each other. "You raise a good point. A Blood Mage will likely be ready for any straightforward retaliation."

"Well, Krahl? Have you given any more thought to our bargain?"

Krahl stood from his chair, and approached the Priest menacingly.

"I've thought on what you have said....given it much thought...."

He turned for a moment, his personal gaurds standing absolutley still, demonstrating their amazing discipline.

Krahl looked back at the Priest, "If you deliver the power I want...then I will kill those that you dislike. But you mustn't interfere with the way I do things. Not one bit. Otherwise you will join those you want dead."

He didn't trust the Priest to deliver anything, Krahl would gain the power he wanted either way, by his own hand, or the Priest's. Besides, he might end up killing the idiot in the end...but not now.

"There you have it."

Shakhmaty, listening to the two, closed her eyes and listened to the boisterous noise and the chaos all around her. Even though it was barely ten o'clock in the morning, the Red Dragon was plying a good trade. Not only did it serve good ale and spirits, but its food was also some of the best in Redcliffe. No matter if you were rich or poor, this tavern was a haven, a sanctuary where one could go to get lost, get drunk, or get lucky!

She suddenly realized something, which she posited to Nierra and Alkonium:

"Perhaps this particular Blood Mage does not kill his or her victims within a usual hideout. Maybe this one roams the streets in disguise, selecting his or her prey from there. Then, the Mage lures them to a place where a trap is sprung. More than likely, he or she follows victims to wherever they're going and then performs the ritual." She was almost sure of it. What criminal would stay too long around the scene of the crime? It was better to kill and run.

"Let's head for the stables first," she said, "in order to get information about our first victim--the man. Stables are frequented by many, and that will give us some crowd cover unless the King's Royal Guard has cordoned them off." Standing up, the travelers paid for their drinks--mostly water--and departed.

As it turned out, the Paladin was correct. The Augian Stables, owned by a fine and burly horseman named Tobias Augen, were surrounded by King Cailan Theirin's men. When the four approached, with Shakhmaty wearing her Investigator's Robe, the Royal Guards eyed them all suspiciously--especially Nierra, the Elf of violet hue, and Zero, the rogue in the outrageous costume.

"Stand aside!" cried one of the guards. "This is the scene of a foul murder."

"Exactly why we've come," replied Shakhmaty. "I've been authorized by the Church to investigate the crime, and so have my companions. Let us pass."

The armored man did so, albeit reluctantly. He growled at Nierra and Zero. Those two are nothing but trouble, he thought to himself. If they do anything but the duty to which they have been assigned, I'll arrest them!

Shakhmaty, already inside, did not hear. Instead, she stood transfixed:

There lay a fat man with thick wrists, dressed in long, brown rags, in a deep pool of his own blood. Whoever had murdered him had dug a large pit in the middle of the stable's dirt floor, or else had his or her henchmen do it. Two inverted crosses, one for each wrist, had been carved into his flesh--just as the old crone had said back at the Red Dragon! Her breath caught in her throat. Who could have done this? The man's eyes bulged glassily out.

What startled her the most was not this, however, or any combination of the most obvious signs of the murder, but the symbols etched into the man's forehead--perhaps with a sacrificial dagger. Arcane symbology had always been her weakest area of study. Perhaps Zero, Alkonium, or Nierra knew what the strange patterns of dots and slashes meant? She sure didn't...

************************************

The Vicar held out his hand, which the warlord shook. "It's a pact, then!" His eyes glinted with mirth. "Now. The first thing I want you to do--you and your army of sentient Mabari war hounds--is to try and find three secret outposts where criminals congregate to live outside the city. They are not your normal peasant villages, as they are heavily fortified. One camp is made up primarily of thieves; the second of criminal women such as prostitutes and rogue mages; and the third of violent scum such as murderers and plunderers of women. You may choose which camp you want to attack first. Put all to the torch. Let no one--no man, no woman, no child--escape. All are damned."

Lucien smiled. "As proof of the deed, bring me one bone from each of their skulls. It does not have to be from the inside. The outside will do. We use the bones in our rituals, in our holy prayers for the dead." This was true. However, he himself planned to use the bones for a far darker purpose...

Morrigan needed them. Bones were used for the medicinal part of Blood Magic.

Zero looked back at the guard who was giving him and Nierra dirty looks.

"Good day to you too" Zero said to the guard before following the others.

He made his way to the shed when he found the body. He turned his head away for a second before looking back. He moved closer to the body to get a closer look. He took note of the two inverted crosses on the wrists of the man. He leaned in even closer to look at the symbols on the forehead. He wasn't sure what they meant.

" Our killer was able to make these marks after killing this man which leads me to believe the killer is very skilled. Judging by the two crosses it looks like our killer is quite religious. I'm not sure what the symbols mean but maybe they're a spell or some type of old language. Maybe our killer is trying to send us a message. The killer took out a man, a woman, and baby. To me that sends a message saying none will be spared. That's just my guess"

"I suspect you're right." Shakhmaty's lips were set in a line of grim and fierce determination. "If this is indeed the work of a Deathstage cult, the Chantry teaches us that no one, not even children, will survive the end of time. The 'good grain' will be taken up to paradise, where it can flourish, and the 'rotten grain' will be thrown into the fires of everlasting damnation. That would be the only reason I can think of, besides pure depravity and insanity, to kill a man, woman and child." She sighed. "However, the crosses on the man's wrists were made in order to cause his death. He bled out."

She wiped away a tear at the revolted looks of the others. "I'm certain. It's the way ritual sacrifices, especially of a dark nature, are made. I'm also sure that the inverted crosses are a sign that the murderer is inverting--and perverting--the teaching of the Chantry. The Chantry forbids murder, but here the killer is, doing evil for the sake of bringing about the Deathstage!"

Shakhmaty gnashed her teeth. "This means war against this putrid sect..."

Zero looked over at the body once more. It was indeed possible to bleed out from the wrists, but to pull that move off would require another wound or the use of magic. Zero checked the body over and found no other wounds on the body which meant a spell had to be used to pull this off.

"So someone who follows the Chantry would have to have done this. As you said before he bled to death from his wrists which confirms this. He doesn't seem to have any other wounds that indicate a sword or arrow incapacitated him allowing the killer to make those marks. I think our religious psycho had to have used some sort of spell or potion. Hey who was that man that left with that other elf to go find a warlord? I find it a little strange he leaves during the night and three people die on the very same night."

"Thank you so much, it's been so terrible trying to find a place to h...stay out here," she said, beaming at the priest. "How do I start?"

The priest acted regal, but he was obviously delighted to help her out. Gesturing over towards a small storage room, he replied, "Everything you need is over there. I am sure the other priests will not mind you staying here for the night...." He gave her a knowing look. She had tried not act like she was in a hurry, but when you're on the run, it's hard to remember not to show it.

"Please," he continued, "eat our evening meal with us." Before she could deny the offer, he explained, "The Cathedral of the Chantry welcomes all. You do not have to do any other services for us."

Contemplating a moment, she knew that she could not give up the offer. It was unlikely anyone would notice her at this time of the day, and she was starving. Without much money, it was likely that the food here was going to be much better over the scraps she could buy from someone. Smiling again at the priest, very grateful for his kindness, she began to nod.

"I will join you, then."

"Excellent," the priest said. "Oh, yes, what did you say your name was again?"

She had not told him her name. But a man this generous, a priest, no less, had to be trustworthy. Smiling once more, she answered him.

"My name is Leliana."

*****

Standing silently next to the Vicar, Coryn noticed something strange about the way Drathart had asked for the bones. He supposed that they must be used in Chantry rituals, after all, since he could not think of any other use for them. But something still nagged at Coryn, and he didn't know what. It could just be the fact that he had made a pact with a Demon not too long ago for the use of Blood Magic. How had the Demon known he would so readily accept? And why did the amulet have anything to do with it?

There he was, going on again about things that he still couldn't find the answers to. Perhaps...perhaps he would need to seek out another Blood Mage. Maybe then he could get answers. Until then, he would have to continue in the Vicar's plan for the warlord.

It's all about power, isn't it?

"You think they're involved? We've got no proof." Nierra pointed out. "It wouldn't matter if we did. If he's working with this Blood Mage, it wouldn't make a difference whether or not he held his title. And if he's as zealous about his cause as he seems, he won't care about whatever punishment is superiors dish out." Alkonium suggested. "More to the point, what we do have proof of is this Blood Mage, and we should deal with one problem at a time." Nierra retorted. "You're right. I don't answer to the Chantry, but I don't need them to tell me this Blood Mage is evil." Alkonium replied "I understand your zeal in this situation, but there's more to gain from sparing the Blood Mage's life, specifically information about this Deathstage cult, and whether or not this Lucien is involved." He then suggested to Shahkmaty. It'd do them no good to interrogate a corpse.

"Indeed," answered the Paladin. "We shall track down this Blood Mage, but as I might have mentioned before, they are not keen on showing their faces in public--at least not around Redcliffe. They're too close to the Chantry here, specifically the Chantry Templars. Templars are those who hunt down and kill rogue mages, specifically those who practice the art of Blood Magic." She stared down at the corpse of the fat man and shook her head sadly.

"Wait..." Something was clicking in her mind, a connection she had not even thought to make until now. The symbols were not merely arcane--they were written in the original script of the Canticle of Threnodies, the Chantry scriptures! Far more scholars at the Cathedral were more adept than she was at deciphering them, but even Shakhmaty knew the word for a transgressor:

"Thief." Chills ran down her spine. "Of course! This man was not killed via mere chance. The Deathstage, or at least the prophecies, say that the first to die will be those deemed unrighteous by civil law: those who steal, murder, commit usury, blackmail, etc. That is the First Curtain," she said. "Whoever did this knows the symbology behind the ancient word for 'thief' as well as being intimately acquainted with the Deathstage prophecy." Finding no other trace of the killer, the Paladin said:

"Let us venture to one of the city chapels. Perhaps the woman bears clues..."

"Wasn't the woman a prostitute? That seems to put her in the same boat as this man. There's a common element between them, but what about the baby?" Nierra pointed out. "We can't just over look a sizeable portion of the evidence." Alkonium replied. "We need to go there anyway and investigate, provided that the body hasn't been moved yet, or the crime scene cleaned up."

Shakhmaty agreed with Alkonium. "Let's go see if anyone at the nearest city chapel knows anything about the murders--or if the bodies are still there, especially the woman's." She, the soldier, the rogue, and the ranger moved out. As the day wore on, the sun beat down upon all four of them without respite or mercy. The Paladin hoped to conclude their task as soon as possible. She didn't like this. Murder scenes were not only gruesome, but the circumstances of these particular murder scenes made her uneasy. As they made their way toward the nearest chapel, they heard people talking nearby:

"Foul business, that was. Left a woman to bleed in our own baptismal font."

"That was no mere woman. That was a loose woman. You know that, Myg."

"Aye, but what of the way she died? That isn't natural, is it?"

"Neither is selling yourself for coin. I'm glad the Chantry priests came to us."

"How can you be glad? They had to perform an exorcism, for salvation's sake!"

"It's true that she died a bad death, but what can you expect if you're a--"

"Hush! It's done. All cleaned up. She's dead and buried. Let's move on."

Shakhmaty decided to ask the woman, Myg, a quick question:

"Why did the priests from our Church have to perform an exorcism here?"

Myg's eyes grew wide. "Don't ye know, milady? She was slain by a cult."

"As proof of the deed, bring me one bone from each of their skulls. It does not have to be from the inside. The outside will do. We use the bones in our rituals, in our holy prayers for the dead."

This was not a problem for Krahl, he was, after all a master in the art of massacre, but even he did not like the rituals that the priests of the land did...and the bones they used. Krahl believed in no other power, other then that of the iron fist and the steel blade, he hated anything superstitious.

"Fine....I'll...kill, butcher, and extract the bones from these people, so you can have the supplies for this....ritual of yours."

Krahl waved his hand dismissively,"Now go...before I change my mind and make an example of you..."

Another thing came to the Warlord's mind, "And my men are not Mabari War Hounds...they are the finest, most loyal, soldier the world will ever see, or rather, the last thing the world will ever see. You will help me in this conquest."

Krahl turned away as his gaurds escorted the Vicar out.

"If you have anyone you answer to, priest, you better tell me. You are far too small and feeble to be leading a crusade...you must have ulterior motives and a higher leader...I know it."

The Vicar frowned. "Small? Feeble? I suggest that you choose your next words a little more carefully. The primary rituals of the Chantry deal with healing and spiritual growth, but there are...darker ones...that center around retribution and vengeance. Those rituals are my assistant's main specialty."

He smiled darkly. "I know you're afraid of no one. Therein lies your strength. However, fearlessness has its price. One day, you may overstep your bounds and take too many chances due to your supposed invulnerability. Once that happens, you'll have no one to draw on but yourself, condemned as you will be. It's not a pleasant experience to be hanged, drawn and quartered."

Lucien Drathart pursed his lips. Should he answer this question or not? "I do answer to a higher power, and not just in the spiritual realm," he said. "My hierarch is the Archbishop of the Cathedral of the Chantry, but even he does not know about my plans...or my assistant. If he found out about either one, I'd face the quartering, and she would face the torch. That is why it is paramount to keep both secrets secret. Otherwise, you'll answer to me."

He closed his eyes. "Morrigan has taught me many things. Don't cross us."

"I know you're afraid of no one. Therein lies your strength. However, fearlessness has its price. One day, you may overstep your bounds and take too many chances due to your supposed invulnerability. Once that happens, you'll have no one to draw on but yourself, condemned as you will be. It's not a pleasant experience to be hanged, drawn and quartered."

Krahl motioned for the gaurds to stop.

"There is an easy solution for that...I will never be hung, or drawn and quartered. My Death will be an honorable one. I will ensure it."



"I do answer to a higher power, and not just in the spiritual realm," he said. "My hierarch is the Archbishop of the Cathedral of the Chantry, but even he does not know about my plans...or my assistant. If he found out about either one, I'd face the quartering, and she would face the torch. That is why it is paramount to keep both secrets secret. Otherwise, you'll answer to me. Morrigan has taught me many things. Don't cross us."

Krahl turned and made eye contact with the priest, "Ah..so it would seem my assumption was incorrect...you are indeed the tactician of your operation. You and your...assistant. I suppose we both understand that we can use this alliance to mutual benefit...but neither of us will will let the other be in complete control...until we can gain complete trust, or at least a sense of reliablity upon eachother, neither of our goals will be completed. So, for that sake...what are your true objectives?"

"Objectives?" the Vicar replied. "I have only one: to bring about the Deathstage. The end of time as we know it, at least according to the prophecies of the Chantry. The criminals and other guilty scum in this realm have gone unpunished for far too long, and I consider it my duty, as the one true prophet in our whole Cathedral, to be its loyal harbinger. The prophecies say that all will die, first the guilty by law and then the guilty by blood. This means that those who have broken our civil laws must be eradicated first. People who have never turned to crime, if they are wise, will repent and turn from all their other peccadilloes. If not, then they, too, will face death." He slowly withdrew a parchment from a satchel that he carried on his belt.

"This is our Map of the Evangelion, or at least a copy of it," he explained. "It is tattered and torn for good reason. I was not always a Vicar. As part of my training, I had to venture into the quarters of the city with the most stench and the most crime. I had to preach the word of the Chantry to anyone who would listen. Almost no one did." His caustic smile returned. "Now the tables shall be turned. No one believes that judgment will ever come their way. They cling to false hope, false mystics, and a false sense of security. I want you to go to these areas and...clear out the rats." He paused. "Understood?"

Nierra then barged right into the the chapel, and assertively said to the priests, "My associates and I are investigating the murder of a prostitute here. We're going to need detailed reports about any wounds or markings found on the body. If that's not possible, we're going to need to exhume the body from your crypt." Cautiously walking in after her, Alkonium caught virtually all of Nierra's order. "Well, you certainly have a way with people, but that's what I love about you." He quietly said to her.

Zero followed in after Alkonium and Nierra. They worked well together and complemented each other very well. He was glad that they were good friends and not strangers or enemies.

"And let's try to keep the gorry details to a minimum. I don't need to go through another round of keep my breakfest down again."

The chaplain of the tiny city church blinked twice. He wasn't expecting any more visitors than his usual congregation, least of all official investigators into the "foul business" that had tormented him and his parishioners these days. However, perhaps he should have expected them. He cleared his throat.

"As you have said, good investigators, the body of a 'woman of the town' was found in our baptismal font two day-ago. She had inverted crosses etched into her wrists, and that's how she bled out." Finding that his throat had suddenly gone dry, the chaplain swallowed hard. "Also, on her forehead, there was etched the word harlot in arcane symbology. I'm not saying that the lady was a saint, or even a 'lady' in the true sense of the word, but no one deserves a death such as this. No one deserves to be murdered. We at the chapel suspect the work of cultists, perhaps those of the Deathstage."

He stepped backward to allow his visitors access to the baptismal font. "It's clean, and the body has been buried, but search the font if you must."

"We suspect that as well, but this woman wasn't the killer's only victim." Nierra responded trying not to put her foot in her mouth again.

"It's certainly insight into the killer's motives, but still nothing on how we can track him or her down. Other than wounds, was there anything else, like dirt, or anything that could help us determine where we could find this Blood Mage?" Alkonium inquired. So far, the information only told them how and why, but nothing who, or where they could be found.

"There was something strange that we...we haven't been able to scrub off the walls yet," replied the chaplain. "We've hidden the infernal phrase behind a curtain, so the worshippers here won't see it. Nevertheless, they suspect something's wrong, as the curtain has rarely been drawn before." He stepped forward and pulled back a long, velvet drapery. Shakhmaty gasped, almost stumbling backward at the meaning of the words: Predatelstvo dvazhdi.

"Twice betrayed," she said, "or 'two betrayals'. Whoever did this has been double-crossed, or they're trying to double-cross someone else. What's more: I don't believe that the blood is that of the victim, but that of the murderer..." Venturing behind the curtain, she ran a finger down the wall.

"The blood is dry, but it was...spattered first. One of the hallmarks of a Blood Mage is that they fuel their powers with their own 'red elixir of life', and if it spews forth from an open wound, for instance, that is one way to channel it so that their magic spell can take effect." She turned to the chaplain. "Tell me. Was there anything else strange about the slaying of this prostitute?"

The chaplain shivered. "She was never stabbed, and yet her wrists..."

"So that was it." A pause. "Definitely the work of a Blood Mage, then. One who has been betrayed twice, or will betray twice in the course of time."

"There is no way someone could lose that much blood and survive without healing magic." Nierra pointed out. "You may be right. I suggest we check apothecaries for any suspicious customers, or recent thefts." Alkonium surmised. Both he and Nierra were more concerned with tracking down the Blood Mage than being absolutely sure it was one.

"I agree, Nierra." Shakhmaty gazed at her new Dark Elven ally with firm confidence. "Blood Mages, as I'm told by my colleagues at the Cathedral, devote their whole lives to their dark art. Not only that, but they usually focus upon that school of magic alone, ignoring other vital areas such as summoning protective spirits from the Fade or shapeshifting. If this sorceress is as powerful as she seems through this display of her abilities, she most likely isn't spending much time bending down over a pot of healing potion."

After turning to the chaplain to thank him for his help in their investigation, she, Zero, Alkonium and Nierra ventured to the nearest apothecary. What did "Miracle Worker Mendus", as it read on the rickety sign hanging above his door, know about Blood Mages or anyone shady who'd requested his help?

"We get a lot of beggars," he announced once Shakhmaty had started asking questions. "I'm one of the few apothecaries around here who will heal for free. I don't know if any of the practitioners of Blood Magic have been to my shop lately, but in all honesty, they don't exactly announce their presence. As hunted as they are by the Templars of the Chantry, they keep their eyes open and their mouths shut. I'm sorry I can't help you more on that, but..."

Miracle Worker Mendus suddenly remembered something. "There was one beggar," he said, "that I thought was trying to get something for nothing. She wasn't old, or weak, and the limp that she walked with was false. Nevertheless, I could tell she was in pain, and so I healed her without cost. If I charge a fee for those beggars I consider suspect, what does that make me? A hypocrite. She never said a word...simply smiled and left after I'd patched her wounds. There was blood all over the front of her cloak."

The apothecary shook his head. "Had she been in a fight, or what?"

Shakhmaty raised an eyebrow. "What did the beggar woman look like?"

"Young. Beautiful. Piercing hazel eyes. Much browned from sun and wind."

"Thank you." She gave him one piece of gold for his vital information.

"Oh!" Mendus cried. "Investigator--go and pay respects to the wee child."

"What child?" Chills crept down her spine. "The one that has been slain?"

"Aye. A healthy baby boy, with nary a deformity about him. He had turned-down crosses on his wrists, from which he bled into his christening font. Had some odd symbols etched into his forehead, too. I couldn't decipher them." He gave the gold coin back to Shakhmaty. "Give this in memorial to him. The chapel's down the way, and I suspect the service is just ending. Good day."