Seven idiots. --- No dragons.

Something inside the shack clicked out of place and the door opened just a crack. “Leave it by the door and walk away.” The voice that emerged was deep and smooth, not the scratchy, fever-pitched grumble of a madman. In the darkness, Gavin couldn’t see who was behind the door.

“Open up, we’re expecting pay.” Dan lied, placing his fingers on the edge of the door. The hermit held fast, holding the door in place even as the soldier tried yanking it.

“I already paid Barbara, eighty silvers up front. If she had a problem with my coin, she can come here herself.” The voice spat, rising slightly in pitch, as he seemed to struggle with the door. His accent was distinctly Ferelden with an educated lilt to his words.

Dan tried giving the door another hard pull. It budged slightly. “Then how about you explain to me why I was asked to bring enough magebane to kill a Circle of Magi?”

With a sudden force, the door snapped closed, nearly causing Dan to lose his balance. However, the soldier was quick to react and managed to yank the door open before the owner could click the lock back into place, revealing the man behind it.

The man stalked out of the shack brandishing a wicked-looking staff. Dan had drawn his sword but he stared with the stranger with as much confusion as Gavin. They had both imagined a crazed white-haired man, possibly an ex-templar, with a vendetta against the mages. This man was hardly older than them, his hands wrapped white-knuckled around his staff.

“Put the jar down,” his eyes flickered to Gavin, pointing the staff blade directly at his chest.

Gavin squawked and froze under the intense, black gaze, his fingers clutching the jar as if his life depended on it.

It was enough of a distraction for Dan charged, aiming his blade to slice through the man’s shoulder.

His blade would never meet flesh. With a sharp crack, Dan was flying backward as the mage fired a blast of energy into the soldier’s stomach. The air crackled with the release of magic and Gavin’s vision swam with dark spots. His spell so potent it saturated the air with static. 

Breathing heavily, the apostate turned on Gavin. Over his shoulder, Dan was struggling to rise, his sword and shield had fallen a few feet away. An angry splotch of melted metal sat in the center of his chest.

The stranger drew up to his full height and took a threatening step forward and Gavin struggled not to back away. Slowly, he put the jar down on the ground and in the same motion reached for his staff. 

With trained reflexes, Gavin shot a stream of fire from his staff but found it only collided with another blast of energy. They met in the middle with a blinding light and a solid wave of heat and force threw Gavin off his feet. His back slid through the dirt, pain and rocks tearing at his skin until his head snapped back, searing agony, and then black.

Too much movement, his groggy head told him as it bounced up and down. He opened one fuzzy eye to see the ground moving in time with the steps underneath him. He squirmed at the discomfort of sharp, metal armor pressing against his stomach. “Lemme down,” he protested like a small child, squirming against the hands that kept him in place.

Dan lowered his friend slowly off his shoulder, and Gavin released they were only a few short feet from their front door in Lowtown. “How long was I out?” Gavin mumbled, clutching his head.

“About an hour. That blast knocked you into one of the fence posts. Went out like a damn light.”

“Wha—What about the mage?” Gavin struggled through his words.

“After you passed out and I wasn’t getting up, he grabbed the jar and went back into his fucking shack. The psychopath.” Dan sighed. “I thought it was more important to get you out than fight some crazy mage.”

[ Gavin approves. ] [ +10 friendship for Dan and Gavin. ]

“He was powerful,” Gavin muttered under his breath. “I have never felt magic like that before.” Not that Gavin had much experience around other people’s magic. He never lived in a Circle. And when he did meet mages, they were often on the run and didn’t have time to stop to chat and take tea.

But what Gavin did know was that his magic was powerful. Being descended from a prominent Tevinter family tended to do that. However, nothing Gavin produced could hold a candle to the magic he felt around that apostate. “I want to sleep,” Gavin shook his head, trying to chase away the thoughts.

“Hope we never run into that bastard again. It’ll be too soon.” Dan sighed. Taking one of Gavin’s arms over his shoulder, they slowly walked into their tiny hovel.

Chaos broke out. His three friends drew their weapons and shields, focusing their energy on the armor-clad soldier. For a moment, Gavin watched in a mixture of awe and nerves as Dan dodged the slicing blades. Then, the thought sunk in that perhaps he should help.

Gavin gathered his mana for fireball, launching the magical fire toward the man furthest from Dan. The flames licked at the man’s shirt and burst across his chest. With a high-pitched screech, he whirled around to face Gavin.

He charged, but Gavin was quicker. The mage danced out of the way of the sword and shield, casting a glyph at the bandit’s feet.

The man’s blade swung just inches from Gavin’s belly. “Bloody hell! That was supposed to slow you down.” As he stumbled backward, avoiding another lash, his feet stumbled against red, slick mud.

One of the two men hounding Dan had fallen, clutching at his stomach. Blood spilled out around Gavin’s feet. With a smirk, Gavin buried the end of his staff into the wet ground and watched as ice blossomed and wrapped around the bandit’s ankles. He gave a shout of frustration when his feet no longer moved.

With one last swing, Gavin shot one last fireball that consumed the bandit’s shirt. He wouldn’t be troubling anyone again.

Time to assist Dan.

However, Gavin hadn’t realized how close he had gotten to his friend’s fight. Their blades met with a metallic clang that nearly deafened Gavin. Dan shoved his elbow into the soft part of the bandit’s shoulder, causing his arm to arc backward. The bandit’s shield hit Gavin square in the chest, sending him stumbling backward.

The mage barely managed to squeeze out a “Oh bollocks,” as the heel of his boot touched the ice he had created. Slipping backward, there was the distinct sound of shattering glass underneath his arse. Needle-sharp shards buried into his skin, causing Gavin to shoot to his feet.

“MOTHER—“ He was about to cry about his own pain when he watched the last bandit fall. Dan, standing over the still form, had a massive gash in his forehead.

His own pain was temporarily forgotten, Gavin rushed over to his friend. The warrior stumbled slightly, pressing a hand to the blood that streamed down his face. “Dammit Dan, sit down right now.”

“I’m fine Gav, calm down.”

“No, you bastard, sit down.”

Dan glared for a moment through the red before plopping down on the ground, his armor making an ungodly racket.

Gavin crouched down to come eye to eye with his friend. Drawing forward the last of his mana, his fingers glowed a soft green as he traced the line of Dan’s wound. Underneath his touch, angry vines of skin twisted and created a bridge across the split skin. Slowly, the blood stopped and the skin settled into a tight pink scar.

The green light flickered out and Gavin sagged under exhaustion. “Sorry B, you’ll have to go to a real healer if you don’t want a scar.” Leaning forward on his knees, he took a rattling breath. His skin tingled from the magic underneath it, heightening every sensation around him.

The pain returned, some smell fouler than usual floated around, and Dan’s breath was too ridiculously close to him.

“It’s alright. A few scars will make me look badass.” Dan shrugged, and Gavin picked up his head to catch his friend’s gaze. For a moment, they stood silent and still, Gavin fighting against the blush that threatened to creep across his face.

Normally, he would have never noticed how close they were.

[ Dan is thankful. ] [ +5 friendship for Dan and Gavin. ] 

“You smell like shite.” Dan interrupted the moment. Was it a moment? The fluttering in Gavin’s chest disappeared as he too noticed the stench.

“Oh bugger my—“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence before bile gurgled up into his throat. He tried to put distance between him and the smell, but it simply followed him as he stumbled away. For a moment he was glad he hadn’t eaten that day as he dry heaved over a ledge.

“Gav, I think you broke one of the jars.” Dan called as Gavin struggled out of his robes, trying to get as far away from the smell as possible. It stung his nose in a swirling cloud of something sickly sweet and vomit. 

“That would explain—“ Gavin gagged, cutting off his sentence. “Explain the glass shards in my ass.”

Sure enough, at Dan’s feet were the shattered remains of a jar. Against the ground, the liquid held a reddish-purple hue and Gavin instantly knew what he coated in.

“This is magebane.” He said, suddenly understanding why healing Dan had taken such effort. This was sapping away from his energy reserves.

“So not poison?” Dan cautiously ventured.

Gavin shook his head. “Not in small quantities. It is meant to drain mages of their power. This much though could probably send a mage into shock, shut down their systems to compensate for the sudden loss of mana.”

A look of panic flashed across Dan’s face. “Are you going to be alright?”

While he felt like absolute crap, Gavin knew he was fine. He skimmed his mouth with his clean hand, making certain that none of the poison had touched his lips. If ingested, it would only wreak havoc on his system. “I’m fine. Though I can’t help but wonder what someone needs this much magebane for.”

Dan’s jaw twitched, picking up the intact jar before climbing to his feet. “I would also like to know. I don’t want some crazed hermit having enough poison to kill a whole Circle of Mages. When that bastard opens his door, I think we’re going to have a little chat.”

Gavin hesitated as he grabbed his stinking cloak off the ground. He carefully folded it so the horrendous smell was trapped in the folds of cloth. “Dan, that might get dangerous. We don’t know who we’re dealing with.”

“Don’t you care about the damage someone could cause with this?”

Gavin flinched, knowing he was being selfish. He preferred to stay alive, but Dan had a point. The idea of someone possessing that much magebane made him nervous.

He had a decision to make.

“Just doesn’t feel right. When we used to pick up poisons for Arryn they came in tiny pouches. Why does some hermit need this much poison?” Dan struggled to keep the concern out of his voice. Gavin had learned a long time ago to recognize Dan’s brave face.

Gavin shrugged. “Beats me. You’re no member of the guard, it’s not your place to enforce the law.”

“Say that again when we both die of poison in our soup.”

“I doubt this hermit has any interest in us two blokes. We’re boring as sausages.”

For a while, they walked in silence. People hurried around them with bowed heads and nervous glances, aimed almost entirely at Dan’s massive sword and shield.

Gavin smirked when he noticed. “The way these pricks look at you, you might as well be part of the Guard.”

Dan laughed. “Well, it was fortunate I never had to sell off my armor. Teyrn Loghain wanted his men to look their best. Worked out for me.” The warrior fell silent for a few seconds before glancing over at Gavin. “Though, are you serious? Should I consider the Guard?”

Under the shock, worry twisted in his stomach. Gavin hesitated a second too long to respond.

“Stupid idea. They wouldn’t want a man that has already deserted his comrades once.”

“No! No, no, Andraste’s tits Dan.” Gavin backpedaled, “You would make the best damn guardsman Kirkwall has ever had.”

Gavin didn’t want his friend to leave him for the Guard. He could barely survive with the warrior at his side, much less on his own. Also, the guard would probably look down on the fact that Dan’s closest friend was an apostate. Still, nothing hurt Gavin more than to see Dan sad.

Dan smiled and opened his mouth to respond when he was cut off.

“Gotta pay the toll if you want to walk a step further mates.”

The lead bandit was a tall man with a hood over his face. In each hand was a cruelly twisted blade. Three other men of varying sizes stood behind him, each with a hood, looking just as menacing. It was nothing Dan and Gavin hadn’t handled before.

Dan already had a hand curled around the hilt of his blade. “I doubt you have the proper clearance to be collecting tolls in Darktown.” The warrior practically spat the last word.

“’Suppose we don’t. Doesn’t matter if you and your friend don’t want slit throats.” The bandit’s grip on his daggers turned his knuckles white.

Dan’s lip curled into a snarl. These were his least favorite type of people, Gavin knew. This was the only time Dan seemed to enjoy fighting. His eyes flashed to lock with Gavin’s for a split second. 

“So B, do you think we should pay them the toll?” The slight smirk at the corner of his lips told Gavin he had no intention in handing over coin.

c. “This can be practice for the Guard.” [Dan and Gavin fight together.

“Wait, wait one second.” Gavin held up a finger. “There’s a ‘dark part’ of Darktown? I assumed all of it was the worst.” A cheeky smile spread across his face that was not reciprocated by any of his audience.

Instead, Dan shoved one of the jars hard against his chest. “We’ll take them, just point us in the right direction.”

And they were truly sent to the seediest section of Darktown. The few merchant stalls and corner beggars had morphed into armed fiends and glowering eyes following them from every dark corner. To stay his nerves, Gavin focused on placing one foot in front of the other and watched with a mixture of disgust and fascination at the dark froth that had formed at the top of the jar.

He had seen this stuff before, a voice in the back of his head insisted.

As if reading his mind, Dan cleared his throat. “Do you know what this stuff is Gav? I know Barbara’s about as upstanding as poison merchants in Darktown come, but is this stuff dangerous?”

“Dunno.” Gavin shrugged. “I would have to smell it and if it smells like anus then it probably is. Usually a given for poisons.”

“I just,” Dan shuffled and came to a dead stop, holding the jar an arm’s length away. “I don’t trust handing these over to some hideaway in Darktown if they’re really dangerous.”

“And to think that I thought the smugglers would have destroyed your moral compass.”

“We were practically slaves, I had no room to speak. I do now.” Dan said, cradling the jar in one arm with his free hand on the lid.

“These have a seal on them,” Gavin started to object. He had noticed the fine line of red wax keeping the lid in place.

Dan either didn’t hear him or didn’t care. His grip tightened on the lid.

When they had arrived in Kirkwall, fresh off the boat seasick, miserable, and still covered in darkspawn blood no one was allowed inside the city. Citizens milled around the gates of the Gallows shouting obscenities and threatening the guard to let them in. For a moment, Gavin feared they would be sent right back to the gore and misery. The anxiety knotted his stomach into beautiful and gruesome shapes. He clutched his miserable stick of a staff and closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

Then there was a soft push on his lower back, propelling his forward through the crowd toward the shouting guard. Clearly in charge, the man was practically foaming at the mouth as he argued with a old crone half his size. He didn’t even glance in Gavin and Dan’s direction as the soldier marched his panicking friend forward.

The rest was a whirlwind of Gavin desperately clinging to his last shreds of calm as Dan schmoozed his way into talking with the head guard. His time in the army had taught him just how to deal with these power-hungry bastards. When the head guard sent them away when they failed to produce a hefty enough bribe, someone else had been waiting in the wings to pounce on them.

Her name was Arryn, the leader of a small smuggler’s den, and at first she only offered Dan a path into the city.

“Go,” Gavin wanted to urge his friend. “You have already given up so much for me, this is your chance.” 

Dan grabbed the back of Gavin's robe and yanked his skinny frame next to him protectively. “Thank you serah, but where I go, he goes.”

For a moment, Arryn looked to be on the verge of retracting her offer when her eyes slipped over Gavin’s staff and turned his blood to ice. “Are you an apostate?” She asked, lowering her voice but not losing the glint in her eye.

“He—“ Dan started, but was silenced as Arryn held up a finger.

Gavin took a deep breath, fighting the heat that rose in his face. He was not this pathetic, worthless, weak. His father would have a right snit if he were there. Straightening up, Gavin puffed out his chest.

“Bloody right I am,” there was a flood of relief when his voice did not crack. “I apologize, but if you call the Templars, you won’t have hands left to show them which way we went.” It was absolutely an empty threat, but it was better than nothing.

For a moment, silence hung between them. Arryn’s friends had bristled at the threat, their eyes locked on Dan that had fallen into a similar defensive position. Gavin waved his friend’s hand away from the hilt of his sword as the elf burst into laughter.

“No no, I do not care about some shemlen mages. Can you fight with that pitiful thing because if that were the case, then I will pay your way into the city as well?"

Dan was never happy about working for smugglers, but at the moment, it was better than the unthinkable possibility of being thrown to the maws of the Blight.

These memories resurfaced as Gavin and Dan road the shaky lift down to the mines. Over the last year, they had learned its passages and secrets like the back of their hands. Now it was time to use those skills to make coin of their own.

When the lift reached a shuddering stop, Gavin and Dan were wretched from their silence as they both cursed. Darktown stretched out before them. If HIghtown was bustling, Lowtown was shuffling, then Darktown would be crawling. It inched its way through the mud, grimy and blind as worms, until some unfortunate shoe came down upon their heads.

However, there was always someone willing to pay good coin for someone to crawl in the mud for them.

Looking about the market, business seemed slow. “Maybe we should delve in deeper,” Gavin said, cheekily elbowing his friend. His was punished with a metal clang and a sharp pain in his arm. “We’ll find some sap that needs his goods moved out of the city. Get back in the old smuggling tunnels.” They knew those routes like the back of their hands and people paid good money to get themselves or goods out unnoticed.

Still, Gavin knew he was pushing it. Dan shifted uncomfortably and shuffled toward the nearest dirty stall. “We should stick with the merchants. They at least make a semi-legal wage.” A meager wage at that.

The mage opened his mouth but a rumble in his stomach drowned the words under a meager gurgle. As unappealing as job-hunting sounded, it was necessary. They would not survive the next three days on the coin they had left.

“Alright B,” The words were carried by a heavy sigh as the Gavin reluctantly went into their personal stone oven to retrieve his proper attire.

He reemerged, already sweating like a hog, and carrying his staff. Normally, an apostate wouldn’t dare emerge from his home carrying a staff, but out of sheer-dumb luck, Gavin had one unassuming staff. No soul would consider his pitiful stick capable of magic.

"Now what?" Gavin asked, tugging at his fur collar. Maybe this job would leave enough coin left over for some new, lighter robes.

If Dan was hot in his heavy armor, he didn't show it. “We have a few options. We could try out luck in Hightown, find some work in Lowtown, and if we’re desperate there’s always Darktown.”

What does Gavin choose?