The evening summer sun beat down upon the marketplace. The elven vendors kept under their cart awnings, the limited shade barely helping to protect sensitive ears and eyes.  The errand children moved slower than normal, the heat too oppressive even for their normally gleeful antics. Hawkers kept mostly quiet, conversation between them all kept to a tired, but almost excited hum.

Crows darted back and forth above the streets. Glints of armour and blades glinting in the high summer rays. As they drew closer to the market’s center, the Vendehal came into full, spectacular view.

Streamers waved lazily in the sticky  breeze, yet despite this, a small crowd had begun to form.

At the market center, food stalls formed a ring around the mighty tree, offering cooling drinks and fresh, sticky fruits to those who milled about. The mothers whistled for their children, whose foot falls echoed out on the newly paved roads, rushing to join the crowd. The sound of carts being wheeled away, of awnings slamming shut sent thrills down the growing thrall of people's spines.

The crows soon settled on a balcony, overlooking the ancient tree. One pulled a bottle of Antivan Red from a pouch, as the other set two, road-weary chalices upon the balcony’s railing.

The sounds from below had grown steadily. Excitement becomes infectious and spreads out into the surrounding neighborhoods. Coins and treats exchanged hands, and when a hush suddenly rippled through from a side street, everyone quickly cleared the roads.

The crows perked up at the sudden silence, each clinking  a full glass of wine with the other in salute before downing the contents. The procession was soon to start.

The sun had begun to cast long shadows across the crowd as the first maidens emerged from the shadowed avenues all around the Vendehal. Banners, pennants and wreaths of flowers in hand, they proceeded in solemn silence, each leaving their burdens strung upon darkened lamp poles and cart corners. They took position inside the open ring around the old witch, and waited, faces beaming in excitement, eyes and lips painted crimson, all the while their white dress clung to them in the fading summer heat.

As the shadows lengthened, the mood of the crowd continued to grow more electric. Breaths held, then let out in a rush of giggles and amused murmurs spread through them. Children tugged on some of the maidens' dresses, admiring the embroidery found on their hems- The maidens did their best to simply nod, but it was not seen as a bad omen to let words of appreciation to slip out.

The crows poured a second glass, as the sun dipped even from their view, and a low whistle began to rise from the darkness.

With baited breath , the crowd - young and old alike watched the sky, knowing what was about to occur, but filled with giddy anxiousness none-the-less. The whistles grew higher, and in more numbers, until suddenly a resounding POP, colored lights burst forth in the sky. Glittering bits of magic came cascading down upon the upturned faces as cheers went out throughout the market streets.More lights joined them, as well as the mages who had sent them aloft. Flames and butterflies of all colors sparkled and shone above and among the crowd as they too joined the maidens in the ring. 

The magical displays continued, but now the effects were more practical; the lamps each burst to life, fire of every color casting dancing shadows across all who had gathered. Ice crystals began to grow along door frames, cooling the crowd all while pinpricks of veil fire danced along the maiden’s brows.

Some of the town elders bowed their heads at the display, ancient superstitions still strong. Their faith, though tested all of their lives, something they still held dear. Their fore mothers and fathers had worshiped the Gods, many of their children worshiped the shems Maker, and the younger generations... well they barely believed in anything . At least until the 5th blight.  They believed in monsters, and the failure of their elders. They believed in the horrors that war and monsters could bring. Yet despite this, as the elders in the crowd prayed and watched as the children enjoyed the displays of magic, they could tell that they would continue, believing in themselves at least.

The mages among them continued to cast, all previously hidden amongst out of site sheds, dark, foreboding alleys. Their parents had kept them safe and scared, the chantry  too cruel to the ‘knife ears’, the Dalish unwilling to parlay. Seeing those that had been able to finally come out of shadows since the end of the blight brought pride to the breast of many,

One of the crows, her hood blowing off, let out a loud ‘whoop’ at a particularly bright burst of magic. Despite the excited quiet below, no one paid her any mind, save her fellow, who let out a throaty laugh.

With that loud outburst of magic, the crowd was suddenly sunk into darkness, the lanterns snuffing out in a fizzle. The crowd gasped and giggled, shifting and whispering in anticipation, the only light left the veil fire eerily flickering above the maidens.  Then even those fell dark.

BOOOM Crackle FizzzzTTttzzz!

A pillar of blood red fire arose from the alley facing the front of the ribbon strewn Vendehal. The maidens and mages turned as one to face it. Arms outstretched, wide smiles upon their faces and the blush of youth upon their cheeks, fangs sharp and eyes glowing in the magic light.

Flashing steel appeared through the flames, twin sabers sharp as the fangs of the archdemon that had been felled in their very city.  The blades moved languidly side to side before being pulled back. Then, just as fast as they had appeared, she came in an acrobatic flip.

The Bloody Bride, the former alienage's symbol of peace, of change, of Evlen glory was before them. White dress shimmering, hem died dread, the symbol of the phoenix crimson across her face.

The female crow nearly choked on her wine at the Brides appearance. Her own phoenix blazing across her pale flesh. “She- she’s supposed to be me?!” Her partner burst into laughter.

“I knew you han’t actually been to one of these yet,” he brushed a tear from one eye before swiftly refilling her cup. 

“I knew they had the chance to enjoy their freedoms thanks to the King, but.. this?!” She nearly dropped her wine in her haste to pop up an onto the balcony’s railing, perching and leering like a grotesquiry, eyes focused on the young womans face.

“It seems, you inspired your neighbours far more than you had realised when you ended that liIittlee thing known as the 5th Blight.” He smiled cheekily at her, rising to take her wine out of her hand before she let herself jump to the grown below.

The Bride strode towards the ancient witch of a tree with purpose, blades raised above her head, her steps moving in a slow and deliberate dance. Her golden eyes and hair  gleamed in the darkness, while her white dress billowed around her like whisps of smoke. She bowed low to the tree, arms and blades extended up and behind her, hair trailing on the cobbles. Ever so slowly she brought her head up, her eyes shifting between those in the crowd, a mischievous smirk tugging at her lips.

‘IN WAR, VICTORY” Her voice rang out clear into the night. THen, letting out a slow breath, she finally returned to her full height, her smile growing. She tossed her blades into the air, jumping up in a  twirling leap before catching the blades.

“IN PEACE, VIGILENCE!” The crowd roared back in excitement, claps and whoops echoing throughout the city.

The crow stood just at the crowds edge, her eyes watching the Bloody Bride with awe and amusement. 

Varric did what Varric did best; told a tale of old friends and changing futures, all the while pieces fell into place.  Neve and Harding providing the White Queen cover as she fade stepped around statues, setting glyphs alight. The White Knights were roving across the board, providing support for their loyal pawns (Maker knows  I hate  using  that term,) all the while the Rooks took their positions. And Solas, the broken King backed himself into a corner.

Lani followed close behind the White Queen, taking care of demons that spawned due to the ritual. She  didn't say  much to her, obviously focused on destabilizing the statues amongst the chaos, but Lani caught the furtive glances she kept sending the ritual dias when she thought Lani’s  attention was elsewhere., which meant one of two things, either one of the figures up there  was dear to her, or she was waiting for  a signal that wasn’t for her.

Varric hadn’t briefed  their little team who would be waiting at the ritual site  before  shit hit the fan, but she had a sinking suspicion that they had more powerful people in this one god's  forsaken  ruin than all the rest of Thedas combined. She had barely caught sight of the  others; just flashes of emblems on cloaks, difference to the other Pieces. She  had her suspicions,but  they would have to wait until they got orders to withdraw.

The runes set by the White Queen exploded, sending the site into chaos, and Varric’s plan began to unravel. Her counterpart was nowhere to be found, the final statue refused to fall, and it did not appear that Fen’harel was listening to the storyteller.

With the help of Neve and Harding, the final statue was finally toppled, breaking Fen’harel’s focus for good. Not that that was necessarily a good thing.

As Varric fell backwards, the lyrium dagger buried deep in chest, Lani watched as the pieces all moved. The fallen king, staring in horror, then greif, then grim determination, turning his back to them all, the ritual falling apart. The Knights rushing to save their fallen player and the White Queen, nowhere to be found. Lani found herself rushing full speed at the one source of all this chaos, only to be blown back by the magical energies. Then all sound stopped. The rioft behind the Dread Wolf blew open. Hands, then arms reach out, gripping the man by his shoulders. Darkend figures shadowed those hands as they pulled- him in, and her out. 

Sound rushed back, Lani was laying beside Varric at the bottom of the platform, The Knights guarding them.  Neve and Harding staring in in horrified shock.

The Evanuris loomed just within the broken Veil, as the one known as Hawke rose from the ashes, shadow stepping behind the wolf, throwing him to his fallen brethren.

Rook takes King.

Taking the parchment between gloved fingers, the First Talon inspected it, noting the gaudy, iridescent wax seal as the scent of cedar and pineapple ghosted about. With a quick flick, a dagger sliced beneath the seal and disappeared where it came.

Unfolding the paper, the scent became stronger, earning a set of smiling eyes and a flash of phlox. Setting the paper alight a moment later, the First Talon brushed the  ash from his leather bound hands and made his way out of his office. Via window, of course.

The docks were busy, loud and full of diversions. Ripe for subterfuge and assassinations. Today though, the hum of excitement was leaning towards joy instead of fear, and this joy came in the way of a dazzling ship.

Rainbow streamers fluttered in the breeze from the masts and shrouds all while the equally dazzling sailors made way for disembarkment. Children and parents alike ‘ooo’d’ and ‘aaah’d’ as the Lords of Fortune began unloading their ship. Glimmering fabrics and fresh fruits, as well as many other more mundane yet useful supplies began to be stacked up.

And amongst the colorful chaos a plume of bright blue smoke erupted from one of the crowsnest. Sailors and onlookers alike were startled and watched in surprise. THe smoke billowed as it expanded, shifting from blue to rich emerald green then finally pink as it settled on the docks. 

As it was caught by the ocean breeze, a new explosion occurred. A pop and whistle, tiny sparks and a loud BOOM as a firework exploded over the crowd. Bits of confetti and tiny trinkets rained down on the now excited people while the Lords shook their heads and continued their work.

“I’d say they liked our entrance,” Lani laughed as she walked up behind Lucanis, brushing confetti from his hair and shaking it from her ears. He spun on his heels to face her, catching her hand as he did so.

“Spite says he wishes he had pink smoke,” he grinned, eyes flashing violet for a moment as he placed a kiss upon her scared fingers.

La’nal’nis smiled, her glittered covered eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, Spite, I might be able to help with that, if you  can convince Lucanis.” the Talon looked up from her hand, a brow raised, with a pout.

“Please,” he kissed her hand again before rising, “Do not give him any more ideas. He’s still asking about learning that trapeze act you claim the Admiral performs after raids”  He twined his fingers with hers, leading her away from the docks, the noise.

“Oh my dear, dear Luca,” she squeezed his hand, “And my beautiful Spite,” another squeeze, a bit of pointed nail in the palm, “I could always take you both away with me on the next run, show you just how that trapeze act is performed.” She grinned, fangs gleaming as she waggled her brows suggestivly.

“YoUshare the pink smookke, I'll share the wings!” Spite, via Lucanis, who tried to keep it as inside with his life.

“Oh, Spite, I’ll give you the secret of the pink AND the green smoke,” She swung their hands back and forth as they walked, “If…”

“IIiiffF?” Spite took over and grinned, fangs and eyes full of mischief. 

“if, you give me and Lucanis the afternoon-”

“NZOOOOO-”1

“We’ll indulge after!!”

“YESSSsssZzzz Dealz!!”

Just as he had appear the magenta phantom receded, leaving Lucanis with only a little bit of a psychic backlash.

“Sorry, vehnan, I’ll give you the spoke bomb recipes later, but now we have all day and night to ourselves~” Once again, Lani watched him with golden eyes. 

Lucanis shook his head slowly, bringing their joined hands to his brow, before his free arm shot out, gripping her waist and dipping her.

“You love to make promises, will you make good on what you promised your Talon?” he whispered hot against her sensitive ears.

"My Talon?” She grins, fangs and eyes gleaming in the dark alley. “I only grant my husband’s wishes. My Talon can put me on the payroll…” He buries his face in her neck, nibbling and kissing up and down the pale column all the while his magpie giggles and amused crows circle above them, feathers and glittery smoke drifting on the wind.

Heavy breaths and stumbling footfalls echo out into the night as the warden chases his quarry. Swords and shield ready, he moved silently, the creature he hunted unable to avoid the many bushes and brambles in their mad dash forward. Snapping tree limbs and ever louder steps help cover the noise of his armour.

Above and to his right, a nug spooks, darting fast across his path. He slows and crouches, scanning the trees and the rough trails only a hunter could see. A Lown feather drifts from above, causing the warden to roll out of the way, as his quarry swoops towards him.

The creature stops just before impact, settling into a proud  stance in front of the Warden.

Davrin chuckles warmly as he rises, sword and shield returning to their rightful places.

“Good job Assan, I almost couldn’t track you.” Assan floofed his feathers and purr in satisfaction. “But, the nug was a little too on the nose for you.” Davrin ran his fingers through the big baby’s feathered cheeks.

“Now, let's hunt your mom.” The gryphon grinned, tail wagging, and set off in a low crouch, glancing one behind to assure his papa was following close behind.

He shook his head ruefully, a grin on his face as he readied to follow.

Assan had headed for the trees not long after, taking point, while he had been searching for traces of his favorite prey. While Assan had clearly been in the trees, Euphie had been on the ground. Tell tale signs of her passing; crumpled leaves, broken twigs and even a few strands of starlight were easy for him to find. His son whistled ahead, warning him that something was in his path, so with sword and shield at the ready, he pushed forward.

Coming to the edge of a clearing, Davrin stopped just within the tree line.  Whisps were lazily swaying between branches and out amongst the night blooming flowers. But aside from those eerily beautiful reminders of death, his target was still nowhere in sight. 

Whistling softly, he sent Assan ahead, and then proceeded to skirt the clearing, searching for the tell his lady love had left in her flight. Leaving the wisps behind, he  hissed as he stepped on a dried branch. As he waited to see if anything started at the noise, a low whistle trilled out through the night darkened woods, the hair on his neck standing on end at the sound.

Slowly turning his head to the side, he hissed out a breath as she was there. Silver and splendid in the dark.

“I win.” she smiled predatorily, crouched low behind him, her silver eyes and hair agleam in the night, her whisps dancing about her like a crown of stars.

“Shit, Euphie,” Davrin turned fully around, bird-like laughter coming from above, joined quickly by Euphrasia’s tinkling giggle.

Euphie sat back on her heels, watching her husband quickly recover from his fright. Assan landed silently beside her, his feather pride positively glowing in his eyes. Resting a hand on his shoulder, she clicked her teeth and the big bird laid down, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Now, now Davrin, you’re still the mighty hunter,” She batted her lashes and canted her head juuusst right, showing off the delightfully macabre earrings she was wearing.

“You found them, I see” Davrin stood up slowly, a wide smile lighting up his face.

“But of course!” She jumped up to hug him, “I adore these lil grabby hands, so cute~!”

Datura de Riva- This guy doesn't have a lot of play time yet. But I love the whole 'dad' and 'son' relationship that a lot of peeps have going for Rook and Viago. So gunna slowly build Datura up as a wayward son.

House de Riva had a reputation for taking in strays. Not all the strays flourished, but the ones that did had a good chance of becoming loyal hounds.

Datura most assuredly was not a loyal hound. He was moisturized and flourishing. Maybe he was more like a spoiled hound that liked to sleep and ignore his masters, but said master’s couldn’t be bothered anymore to make him follow their instructions.

Probably doesn’t help that he keeps slipping up, causing problems for a good cause. Calling his Talon ‘dad’.

Viago did not seem to appreciate that, though Talon Teia seemed to enjoy it.

“Copper for your thoughts, Nightshade?” His current patron drawled from across the med room.

“Just that I’m not living up to the Family’s expectations.” Shrugging he walked fully into the room, dragging a chair to the side of Varric’s bed. Sitting down with a huff he gazed at the dwarf with fondness.

“You know it was another family that recommended you to me, right? And who says you’re not living up to your potential? Rescuing townsfolk from Quinari and escaping with your hide in tact.”

“Viago doesn’t share that sentiment, I’m afraid.”

“Well, that bird did accept my contract so…”

“So your stuck with me until we stop the Dread Wolf.” Datura leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and let out a grumbling sigh.

“So, does that guy turn into a wolf or something or is he just weird?”

Varric blinked slowly, then a wide grin spread across his face. “You mean Chuckles? Yah know, I wouldn’t put it past him