CHAPTER I: AND SO WE BURNED
We dreamed up false gods, great demons
Who could cross the Veil into the waking world,
Turned our devotion upon them, and forgot you."
- Threnodies 1:8
Nevarra, South of Hunter Fell
9:41 Dragon
The sun beamed down from up high, looming over Hunter Fell. It was here that, centuries ago, the Third Blight was defeated at the hands of the combined armies of Tevinter, Orlais, and the Grey Wardens during one of the bloodiest battles in history, ending with the death of the Archdemon Toth. Where once there were piles of slain darkspawn, said to reach as high as a hundred feet, now the fields surrounding Hunter Fell were calm and quiet this early in the morning, and free of corpses. The city and its surrounding lands are ruled over, now, by Duke Tythas Pentaghast, a former military hero known for his open-minded attitude, assisted by a secret network of old adventuring companions - and, allegedly, lovers, with the so-called "Five Belles of Hunter Fell" rumored to be beautiful women, all. Among them, reports sent to the Inquisition's stronghold, Skyhold, claim, an agent of the Venatori - servants of the so-called Elder One. Agents have been dispatched, and now they search for information that may help identify who exactly this agent is - but another group of the Inquisition's agents moves elsewhere within the region, with a different goal in mind.
Emerging from behind the trees of the sprawling woodland that lay ahead of this particular group were the withered spires of a necropolis, dating from the time of the Third Blight. Nevarra had, as a country, always been fixated with death more than any others. Perhaps this was owed to how the ruler of Nevarra had handed over the prophet Andraste to the Tevinter during the Ancient Age, before repenting, or perhaps the roots for this lay somewhere else entirely. Regardless, Nevarran belief holds that when the soul of a deceased individual crosses into the Fade, it displaces a spirit native to the Fade. To provide safe hosts for these spirits, the bodies of the deceased are mummified and placed into elaborate crypts at the hands of a secretive order of mages, the Mortalitasi. Nowhere else across Thedas, but for the Tevinter Imperium, are mages this influential, and many unpleasant rumors surface about them, especially outside of Nevarra, perhaps in part due to their experimenting with necromancy. Unfortunately, only the elite of Nevarran society can afford for internment in Nevarra's Grand Necropolis at the hands of the Mortalitasi, and many of those who fell during the Third Blight were not as fortunate to get their eternal rest among those sacred halls. Their final resting place was more humble, most certainly not well-known, and rather tucked away, hidden amidst the trees of the forest that had grown around it as the land recovered from the devastation wrought upon it. Still, the Mortalitasi maintained even this place, making sure no disturbances took place among the dead, here.
Or, at least, that was how things were supposed to be. From this place, its name forgotten now to all but perhaps the Mortalitasi themselves, not a word had come for weeks - the members of the mysterious order of death mages strangely quiet. At the same time, undead creatures had been sighted, indicating that at least something had gone wrong, here: several farmers from the area had been felled by ancient weapons borne by mummified remains. While that would've simply been reason for the duke to dispatch a group of guardsmen with, perhaps, one of the death mages, more troubling reports had come - strengthened only by the fact that the guardsmen that the Duke Pentaghast had indeed sent never returned. Several of the locals claimed that they had seen creatures resembling the hated Darkspawn. Thus it had become a matter of the Grey Wardens - yet they were nowhere to be found, save for one: Blackwall, of the Inquisition. It was through him, too, that the Inquisition had conscripted people to their ranks through the Wardens' Right of Conscription. That, then, was the reason that a handful of individuals of the Inquisition found themselves in Nevarra, making their way towards an old, crumbling necropolis: someone had to investigate, and through its actions, the Inquisition had inherited a certain degree of responsibility for this, even if the people that had been dispatched had not been conscripted through the ancient right of the Wardens, themselves.
They were a varied bunch, from all walks of life and the different corners of Thedas. Steeds had been provided to them for their journey, even if some of them might not have wanted one. It was halfway through the morning as they arrived at their destination, the treeline parting and making way for the centuries-old necropolis that they were destined for. It was a large: high walls with even higher spires, some of them half-crumbled made for an imposing, if somewhat weathered away, facade - and it would continue further deep below the ground, where most of the dead had been interned. It was quiet: here, by the necropolis, there were no birds one could hear singing their songs upon the wind, nor any other woodland creatures announcing their presence. Similarly, there was no sight of any of the undead - or Darkspawn - the group had been sent to investigate.
Raising a hand, the woman that was in charge of the group, at least for the time being, commanded them to halt. Clad in a chevalier's armor, she had the appearance of an Orlesian through and through, save for perhaps the masks they were often seen wearing. With a light grunt, she climbed out of the saddle, taking her horse by its reins and tying them to a nearby tree. "This should be it." She announced, plainly, a thick Orlesian accent present in her voice. Natalie Rochette, would-be chevalier, now a soldier of the Inquision, turned around to look at the group she had been dispatched with. She had not spoken much with them during the journey, but they'd have to do - even if she had little trust to spare for those that wielded magic. "I see very little dead things from here, but we'd best keep an eye out. Get yourselves ready. We're heading in there soon." Reaching for her canteen, she drank some water from it, using her free hand to indicate towards the necropolis, and the darkened hallways that its entrance, like a gaping mouth, would soon lead them to.