Warden of Darkness (Dragon Age/World of Darkness)

[TyrantTriumphant]

In one moment, he was in one place and in the next he was in another.

It was a rather difficult thing to describe.

Jack Tanner was a Cainite, a vampire in mortal terms and thus somewhat accustomed to odd things.

But this was new.

He could remember New York City, the siege, the war against the Sabbat, the ritual, and then nothing.

In his next conscious thoughts, he was in an unknown forest. He wasn’t too disturbed by this, after all, he was a Gangrel rather than some pansy-ass Toreador, but these woods were somewhat more overgrown than any that he knew of in the United States.

As to how he got here, well that was somewhat difficult to remember. He could recall men with staves and robes, the red tinged anger of frenzy, blood on his claws, on his fangs, screaming . . . and then he was here.

Under the sun.

That was rather important wasn’t it?

Cainites are a nocturnal race. They have been since God banished the first murderer from the light of His day. To find himself walking around untroubled in the sunlight was rather disconcerting.

If nothing else this was enough to convince Jack that something strange was going on.

But whatever it was, Jack wasn’t worried.

Because after all, how bad could this place really be?

--------------------------------------------------

Jack had been in the woods for several days now and he was already sick of it. Yeah, he was a Gangrel, the Cainite clan known for their survivalist skills, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed roughing it. For one there was a severe lack of human vessels to feed off of.

He wasn’t going to starve. Jack been embraced two years ago, which meant he was capable of sustaining himself off of animal blood. To be honest, Jack sort of pitied the elders for their need to feed off mortals. When he wasn’t resenting them for being tyrannical assholes of course.

But animals were still a far cry from humans. He so missed Manhattan’s vast hordes of vagrants and illegals. So sweet and expendable. As long as you made sure they weren’t on drugs or something first. Like that one time that had Jack fed off of some hobo who was high on LDS right before a meeting with the prince, and he started tripping out right in front of the whole court . . . Damn maybe Jack was hungrier than he thought.

Regardless, Jack wasn’t in Kansas anymore. As if it hadn’t been obvious enough that New York was worlds away, not ten minutes ago he had been attacked by giant Spiders.

Not like tarantulas, but spiders the size of rottweilers.

It might not be impossible to find those on earth, after all the world was large and filled with strange and dangerous things, but that combined with the other discrepancies was all leading up to a very disconcerting picture. At least it wasn’t New Jersey.

---------------------------------------------------------

After two weeks stuck in the middle of the wilderness Jack had finally spotted a sign of habitation. He had been hunting for prey sometime around midnight when he had spotted the glow of a campfire off in the distance. Having not interacted with anyone for two weeks Jack was naturally keen to investigate.

He slipped closer, able to see perfectly in the dark thanks to his knowledge of the protean discipline. Within a few minutes the Gangrel found himself bordering a small clearing, which sure enough contained a man sitting at a campfire.

The man was anachronistic looking. He was an older man with slightly dark skin, a scraggly beard, and wore a suit of plate armor with a sword and dagger sheathed on his back. It was a very medieval look but at this point Jack wasn’t surprised. Compared to giant spiders what was this?

Approaching the man would be a risk, but it was one Jack needed to take. The Cainite needed to know where he was. And if the man wasn’t helpful, it’d been a while since he’d tasted human.

After some deliberation Jack decided to approach openly. It would be best not to startle the man and cause a conflict. And if things went wrong the options of murder or running away still remained. However strong of fast this human was, Cainites still had advantages that couldn’t be beaten.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack entered the clearing in full view and let the man take stock of him. The Gangrel wouldn’t have looked out of place back in New York City, but that might not apply here. Physically he had pallid skin, brown hair, and looked to be around sixteen years old, as that was when he had been embraced two years ago. Fairly average street clothes rounded out the pedestrian look, nothing but a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, and t-shirt.

So naturally Jack was surprised at the wary look the man gave him. At least until he realized that he had forgot to deactivate his protean eyes.

People do tend to react badly to their fellow men walking around with glowing red animalistic eyes.

Damn the hunger was starting to get to him. He’d never made that mistake before.

After taking a moment to curse himself for his utter stupidity, Jack decided that his previous plan of masquerading as a human was no longer viable. It looked like he would have to take another approach.

The Cainite put on his best smile, (it was terrible) deactivated his protean eyes and walked over to the man.

“Hello there, mind if I have a seat?”

The man in armor seemed a little surprised but nodded, and so Jack sat down a few feet from the fire.

“I’m new around here.” Jack said. “You don’t suppose you could tell me the name of this place?”

“It is called the Brecilian Forrest.” The man answered.

“Great. I’m going to cut to the chase. I found myself here through some rather unusual circumstances, and am totally lost. Could you help me out? “

“Of course.” The man said. “If you wouldn’t mind answering some questions in return.”

“Sure. If you show me a map first.”

The man simply raised an eyebrow.

Jack held out his hand.

Lacking a verbal response, the armored human pulled a map out of his robe and handed them to Jack. The contents were about what Jack had expected.

He was no longer on earth. Other realms of existence were not entirely unknown to Cainites, though not much more than that they were best left to spirits and lupines. Considering this, why couldn’t Jack have gone to another world? All available evidence seemed to support the theory.

And this would explain him not disintegrating under the sun. It made sense really. Cainites were banned from the light of earth’s sun, sol, not stars in general. If this was another world, and its sun was not earth’s sun, that there was simply no reason for it to harm him.

But that didn’t really matter now. What mattered was that Jack could not tell the natives that he was from another world. Caine knew it was hard enough for Jack to believe even though he had been through it. Any explanation would be taken as either deceit or insanity.

And so, Jack would lie.

When asked where he was from, he would claim to be from another continent. Judging from the map and the observed technology level, it would be a believable story.

And if it wasn’t, he would eat the traveler.

If discussions continued, the masquerade would still be useful, if in a highly modified form. Jack would be open about his nature, about being a vampire, but he wouldn’t tell this native everything. The basics, but anything more he would lie about or refuse to answer.

Course decided Jack spoke. “Now before I answer any questions Mr.?”

“Duncan.”

“Duncan. I fell that I should warn you that my superiors have a habit of murdering anyone who learns too much about my people. So, you might want to be careful about what you mention to others.”

“Thank you, I will. Now,” Duncan’s voice hardened. “What are you?”

“Could you clarify?” Jack replied.

“What are you?” Duncan repeated. “You’re obviously not human or elvish. The only creatures I’ve met that resemble you were abominations.”

An abomination? That sounded ominous.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not familiar with that term.”

Surprise flashed across Duncan’s face. “An abomination is a creature that is possessed by a demon.”

Jack didn’t know a lot about demons besides what he had read in the Bible, but he knew enough. Namely that they should be destroyed on sight, and avoided if at all possible. It was one of the few things that all Cainites agreed on, even those murderous lunatics in the Sabbat.

“Well I can assure you I’m not one of these abomination things. Interacting with demons has always been banned on pain of death.”

At this point Jack realized something. The people here had a term for being possessed by a demon.

Back home they called a person possessed by a demon “a person possessed by a demon.” Because it basically never happened. But here it was apparently common enough to warrant its own term.

He never had to put up with this kind of crap in New York.

But Duncan was still waiting for an answer. Well, he’d get one that was true, if only in a distorted way.

“My species are called Cainites,” Jack began. “We come into being somewhat differently than most creatures. When we are,” Jack struggled for the right words. “Born we are born dead. Then we merge with a being of hunger and spite that we call “the beast”, which brings us to a semblance of life.”

Duncan’s eyes widened a bit at this but Jack continued.

“To be clear, the beast is not a demon. The beast is not a spirit. The beast is the beast.”

And now to explain the hard part. Vampire feeding habits.

“But as undead we do not survive on the same things as mortals. We drink blood.”

“Blood?”

“Human blood preferably. Not necessarily enough to kill them, but I do need it. I’m still young enough that I can subsist on animal blood but I’d need far more of it.”

Duncan frowned and sat in silence for a minute.

“That could be difficult for you. You might not be an abomination, but many will not believe that. Especially the Chantry.”

“What is the Chantry?” Jack asked.

“They are the main religious authority of the known world. They would not take kindly to someone with your particular dietary needs. It would remind them to much of blood magic.”

That really didn’t sound good. All powerful religious organizations and Cainites tended not to get along well. And though humans were weak individually, Jack had crossed paths with the Society of Leopold often enough know how dangerous they could be when organized.

So much for returning to civilization.

“Well,” Jack began. “If that’s the case I may want to stay in the forest for a while. Living around a bunch of violent fanatics doesn’t really sound like my style.”

“You could do that, but there are alternatives.”

Jack raised an eyebrow but gestured for Duncan to continue.

“I am a member of an organization called the Grey Wardens. We are granted immunity from ordinary laws in exchange for our service. If you were to prove yourself worthy of joining us, then the Chantry would find it difficult to touch you.”

After a pause Jack responded. “All right. I’m listening.”


A/N: This is a story of mine that I'm cross-posting from Spacebattles. All the previously written content should be up here within the next few days.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Jack didn’t agree to join the Wardens immediately, nor would Duncan have been willing to accept him without proof that the Gangrel would be an asset. But Jack did agree to follow Duncan on his journey to Ostagar, where most of his order was gathered.

On the way Duncan told him about this land he found himself in, Thedas, and about the Darkspawn who threatened it. In return, Jack told Duncan a bit about himself and his own homeland.

Censored of course. There was no need for Duncan to know the more unsettling details about the Cainite race. Especially considering the apparent zealotry of the local religion.

But Jack did tell him the basics, making sure to mention his own battles against the Sabbat and the Society of Leopold.

After this and several demonstrations of his disciplines and fighting abilities, Duncan asked him to join the Grey Wardens, and Jack accepted.

Though along the way to Ostagar something very odd became apparent. Jack was not speaking English.

Oh, he could still speak English if he tried. But whenever he spoke in conversation it was in . . . whatever the hell it was they spoke here.

Jack wasn’t worried though. He had absolutely no idea what was going on nor any way to figure it out. So why worry about something he can’t change? Really that summed up his life in the last couple of weeks pretty well.

---------------------------------------------

Jack Tanner was not impressed. Granted it took a lot to impress him these days as most people paled before the sheer power of the Camarilla elders who he worked for.

“Ho there Duncan.” King Cailan greeted the Wardens as they arrived at Ostagar.

Despite the unfairness of it, Jack could not help but compare this king to his old bosses.

And when this blonde-haired man in gilded armor sauntered up to him and opened his mouth the difference was striking.

“A royal welcome? I was beginning you’d miss out on all the fun!”

“Not if I can help it your majesty.” Duncan replied.

“Then I’ll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all. Glorious!” The king looked Jack over and said, “The other Wardens told me you found a promising recruit. I take it this is he?”

Duncan gestured in Jack’s direction. “Allow me to introduce you your majesty.”

Cailan chuckled at this. “No need to be so formal Duncan. We’ll be shedding blood together after all. Ho there friend! Might I know your name?”

“Jack.”

Cailan beamed at the Gangrel’s gruff reply.

“I admit that I was told some rather unbelievable things about you. That you were a member of an unknown race from beyond Thedas.” Cailan said in a tone of boyish wonder.

Cainite elders were many things. Greedy, sociopathic, and often insane. But they were rarely incompetent. To survive in the cutthroat society of the Camarilla you had to be brilliant and paranoid.

So, while they might kill you to advance one of their schemes, or just for fun, it was unlikely for them to do so out of incompetence.

Jack wasn’t so sure about King Cailan.

“This is true your majesty.” Duncan responded to Cailan. “The Grey Wardens travel widely in search of ways to combat the Darkspawn. Jack here was one of the things we encountered.”

The story that Duncan had created about Jack was entirely true and entirely misleading. That they had found a scout from an unknown people while scouring the wilderness.

This was not the same story that Duncan had sent back the Warden leadership at Weisshaupt fortress. Jack knew perfectly well that no one would ever believe that he was from another world, and the story he had told to Duncan earlier had a few rather obvious holes in it.

So, he had made a better one.

While speaking with Duncan Jack had implied, though not outright stated, that he had been scouting out Thedas on behalf of the Camarilla. Though he had been quite clear that any potential invasion or return to his homeland was unlikely in the near future due to recent political instability.

Much like Duncan’s explanation to Cailan, this was true from a certain point of view. Tanner was taking note of everything he saw and planned to report it to his superiors if at all possible. And while the Camarilla was hardly cohesive at the best of times, the recent catastrophe known as the Week of Nightmares had cut the Ivory Tower to the bone. Simply put, the Camarilla was in no state for any large-scale undertakings.

“Well, I suppose I should welcome you to Ferelden then Jack.” Cailan said. “I hope whatever nation you call home will accept the friendship of mine.”

For a moment a tinge of worry flashed across the young king’s face. “Andraste knows we have enough enemies.”

The worry left his expression as quickly as it had come. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies.”

“Your Uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week.” Duncan said.

King Cailan laughed. “Eamon just wants in on the glory. We’ve won three battles against these monsters and tomorrow should be no different.”

He seemed to be quite enthusiastic about this, though it would be premature to judge. After all, this man had fought the darkspawn and Jack had not. But it still seemed like a poor attitude to take to war.

“I’m not sure it will be that easy. War has habit of taking unexpected turns.” Jack said.

Duncan chimed in. “Indeed, your majesty, I’m not certain the blight can be ended quite as . . . quickly as you might wish.”

“I’m not even certain this is a true blight There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, we’ve seen no sign of an archdemon.”

“Disappointed your majesty?”

“I’d hoped for a war like in the tales!” Cailan answered. “A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god. But I suppose this will have to do. I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farwell Grey Wardens!”

“I’m not sure his expectations are grounded in reality.” Jack said once he was sure Cailan was out of earshot. “In my experience, war tends to be rather lacking in glory. It is simply messy and exhausting.”

“Then you understand why this war must be ended as quickly as possible.” responded Duncan. “Which is why we need to begin the Joining without delay.”

“Very well. But I must remind you that I do need to drink some blood before long. It feels like every time I see a human’s neck, it’s demanding that I tear it open and guzzle down the contents.”

Duncan seemed to be a bit taken aback. “Uh . . . well, yes. The army has a supply of livestock to feed its soldiers. Next time one of them is slaughtered I’ll make sure that you can take your fill first. Until then feel free to explore the camp, though do not leave it for now. Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Please do not eat anyone.”

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Sure enough, within the next half-hour a soldier came by and informed Jack that it was time for his feeding. The human led him to the livestock pens where he was presented with a cow that was scheduled to be slaughtered.

Jack wasn’t entirely certain as to what the natives had been expecting, but judging from their overall response, it probably wasn’t him extending his fangs, plunging them into the cow’s neck, and sucking the animal dry.

Really the reaction could be described as mixed. Which was honestly far better than Jack had been expecting.

Some of them took exception to his feeding habits, naturally enough. A couple of them made faces, some made what Jack assumed to be signs against evil, and one even vomited for some reason.

But others seemed indifferent or even laughed at the whole spectacle. One of them even came up to him to ask how he was able to fit an entire cow’s worth of blood inside his body.

Jack even gave him an honest answer, which was that he had no clue whatsoever.

All in all, the whole thing seemed to have gone fairly well. Jack had a constant, if bland, supply of blood for however long the army camped here, and no one seemed too inclined to bother him.

After making sure he wouldn’t need to feed off of anyone, the Gangrel paid a visit the quartermaster to get supplied. Just some leather armor, a pair of knives, and a crossbow. Enough to protect himself while still staying mobile.

But now that all that was settled, he had the opportunity to rectify one of his largest problems for the moment: that he knew basically nothing about Thedas.

Jack had survived for two years fighting against the Sabbat, the Society of Leopold, and his fellow Camarilla, and the most important lesson he had learned though it all was that you never went into a situation without scoping out the battlefield.

And he had absolutely no idea what was going on here.

That and he needed to see how the locals would react to his presence. It had gone well so far, but if the Cainite would be living openly amongst humanity, then he’d need to see what they would think of his more monstrous aspects.

So naturally enough he found himself at the mage’s compound. Magic was always a point of ignorance for him, even back on earth, so this seemed like a good time to correct it.

Most of the mages were being guarded by templars, people who Jack wasn’t really eager to talk to. But there was one by herself. An older woman with white hair and red robes standing apart from the rest.

It seemed a good enough opportunity, and so walked up to her. “Hello there.” He said.

“Greetings, young man.” She responded in a grandmotherly tone. “You are Duncan's newest recruit, are you not? He's not a man easily impressed. You should be proud. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Wynne, one of the mages summoned by the king.”

“So I see.” He answered. “That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you. I have some questions about Thedas.”

“About . . . Thedas?” Wynne said, confusion lacing her voice. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

“It means that I am not from Thedas.” He responded.

“Ah, I’d heard rumors one the new Wardens was from some unknown land, but I hadn’t believed them. It just seems so outlandish.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “Yes, it does. I almost don’t believe it myself and I’m here. But I still need some answers.”

“Of course.” Wynne agreed. “I would be happy to help if I can.”

“Good. First off, what is magic?”

“Do you not have mages in your homeland?”

He shook his head. “Not that I’ve met. My species has its own blood mages, but I’ve never met a human mage before.”

“Blood mages?” Wynne’s tone was suddenly sharp.

“Yes. My people make extensive use of blood magic.”

Her eyes narrowed in response. “Are you a blood mage?”

“Of course not.” Jack explained. “I am of the Gangrel clan. Magic is the exclusive domain of the Tremere clan.”

Wynne let out sigh. “Still, you may want to keep silent on this topic. And perhaps about magic altogether. I don’t know how things are where you come from, but here blood magic is not viewed favorably.”

“Locals and their weird superstitions.” Jack snorted contemptuously. “Whatever. But can you tell me about these darkspawn I’m supposed to be fighting? It seems like a useful thing to know if I’m going to be a Warden.”

“Very well.” She answered with a tinge of annoyance. “To begin, do you know anything about the connection between the darkspawn and the Fade?”

“What the hell is the Fade?”

Confusion entered her voice once again. “It is the realm of spirits, where we all go when we sleep, or die.”

“I wouldn’t know about that.” Jack said. “My species doesn’t actually dream. We’re undead, so we just sort of go back to being regular dead for while during the day.”

Wynne’s jaw dropped and she instinctively reached for her staff. “You’re an abomination?” She hissed at him.

“I’ve been told there are some outward similarities, but no. It’s just part of my species’ natural life cycle. Or, unlife cycle I suppose.”

“But undead are just corpses possessed by demons! What else could you be?”

“A Cainite. If you’re not happy about the way I was born, then you can take it up with God. He’s the one who created my race after all.”

The old woman’s face clearly showed her internal struggle between curiosity and anger. Apparently, the living dead were a bit of a sore spot with these people. Good to know, I guess. Jack thought to himself.

“But that’s . . . wait.” Wynne paused mid speech. “You said you rest during the day. But it’s day now.”

“It’s not my fault that you humans can’t keep to civilized schedules.” Jack answered.

She opened her mouth to respond to this but seemingly thought better of it as she closed it again and sighed. “Yes well, I have many preparations to make before the battle, and I’m sure Duncan has better things for you to do. So, if you would excuse me?”

“Alright.” The Gangrel said. “But if you have any concerns or questions later, please take them to Duncan. I’ve already told him about my species and I don’t feel like doing it again. Of course, he’s fairly busy with saving the world right now, so it may take a while for him to get to you.”

This like a fine point to end the conversation, so Jack took his leave to look for this Alistair person he was supposed to talk to.

What a strange person that was. He thought as Wynne spluttered behind him.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

The first thing that Jack felt when he found Alistair was an odd sense of familiarity. Not with Alistair of course, but because the human was being yelled at by a mage.

Jack had experience with being yelled at by mages. Multiple Tremere, the now deceased and unmissed prince of Manhattan, and now that old human woman whose name he couldn’t remember.

Really it seemed like anytime someone found out how to manipulate the fundamental pillars of reality they somehow thought that they were better than everyone else.

“Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!” The mage yelled at Alistair.

“Yes, I was harassing you by delivering a message.” Alistair snarked back.

“Your glibness does you no credit.” The mage sneered in response.

“Here I thought we were getting along so well. I was even going to name one of my children after you... the grumpy one.”

“Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must! Get out of my way, fool!” The mage shouted before marching off in disgust.

Alistair sighed. “You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.” He said to Jack.

“Did you expect that it would?” Jack replied. “In my experience it takes a lot more than impending doom for people to put aside their petty grudges. I doubt they’re going to stop until the darkspawn have destroyed a city or two. That’s how it is back home.”

“Then I hope you’re wrong.” Alistair said. “Ferelden doesn’t have that many cities to go around.”

Alistair’s face lit up in realization.

“Wait. You’re Duncan’s new recruit. The one he said was . . .” Alistair’s face twisted in disgust, “Undead. And from another continent.”

“Yep, that’s me. Walking corpse animated by the blood of the living.” Jack said evenly. “By the way, Duncan did mention that I wasn’t an abomination, right? You people seem pretty wrapped up about those.”

Jack really would have preferred for the locals to be ignorant about his vampiric status, but if he was going to join the Wardens then there would be no way of hiding it. Without the Camarilla support network to keep himself hidden the only other realistic option was to hide on the fringes of society, one step ahead of the templars.

On the other hand, without the Camarilla, Jack couldn’t be punished for not following their rules.

It really was a nice change of pace.

“Ugh.” Alistair visibly gagged. “Whatever you are, you’re not as bad as I figured. I thought you’d be some rotting corpse or something. At least you don’t have a smell.”

“If only I could say the same about you.” Jack answered.

Jack’s second realization about Alistair was that he smelled awful.

It was somewhat strange, since Cainites, being dead, could only smell blood. One human’s blood smelled much like any other, though some, (like Jack) could notice their very small differences to track individuals.

But Alistair’s blood stank to such an extent that even some dumbass Sabbat shovel-head could smell him a block away.

“Seriously, what the hell is wrong with your blood?” Jack reeled back from the smell.

“What! What do you mean?”

“There’s a bunch of different scents mixing in your blood, and the stench is hideous.”

“With . . . my blood?” Alistair asked with a rather dazed look on his face.

“Yes. It’s a very odd mix of Duncan, Cailan, and templar. With a hint of elf.”

Alistair’s jaw dropped. “I smell like Cailan?”

“Somewhat.” Jack affirmed. “Your blood has this sour smell, which I assume is some Grey Warden thing. It also has the burnt templar smell mixed with some tangy smell that Cailan has. I have no idea what that is. Also, a hint of elf smell. I don’t know how to describe that.” Jack considered it for a moment. “Old, maybe?”

“Could you please not mention any of this to anyone?” Alistair pleaded. “The details of the joining are supposed to be a secret, and letting people know about the darkspawn smell would make people ask questions.”

“Is that what darkspawn smell like? Good to know I suppose.” Jack said. “I take it we’ll be drinking darkspawn blood then. I have to admit, I’ve been curious about how it tastes.”

“How did . . . you know what, never mind.” Alistair massaged his forehead. “You only need to drink it once by the way.”

“You do it your way and I’ll do it my way.” Jack answered.

“Ugh, Maker’s breath.” Alistair grimaced. “Just forget it. As the junior member of our order, I’ll be accompanying you when you prepare for the joining. Lucky me.”

---------------------------------------------------------------

Sometime later Jack and the other prospective Wardens had joined Duncan at his fire, (which Jack kept a good distance from) and prepared themselves for what might come.

“You found Alistair, did you? Good. I'll assume you are ready to begin preparations.” said Duncan.

“Assuming, of course, that you're quite finished riling up mages, Alistair.”

“What can I say? The revered mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt they should stick her in the army.” Alistair snarked back.

“She forced you to sass the mage, did she? We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don't need to give anyone more ammunition against us.”

Alistair sighed. “You're right, Duncan. I apologize.”

Duncan rounded on Jack. “And you seem to have done a fair job of angering the mages yourself. A senior enchanter came by an hour ago with a list of complaints about what kind of creatures we admit into the Wardens. Rumors about maleficar in the Wardens are strong enough as it is. We don’t need people thinking we have abominations too.”

“Sorry sir.” Jack answered.

If the Gangrel were to be honest, he had gotten a little carried away with his newfound freedom. Back home you could be executed for not wiping your teeth after you fed, so it was somewhat understandable.

Still, he really would have to conduct himself with more tact.

“Now then,” Duncan began, “You four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit.”

“And the second?” Jack asked.

“There was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them. Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can.”

“Alright sir.” Jack said. “Kill some darkspawn, take their blood, and grab the treaties. Understood.”

Duncan nodded in response. “Watch over your charges, Alistair. Return quickly, and safely.”

“We will.”

“Then may the Maker watch over your path. I will see you when you return.”

And so, the Cainite and his companions set forth into the Korcari Wilds, and the blood of Caine had come once again to Thedas.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

“O first murderer, guide my fury as I enter into battle. Let my hands be true instruments of destruction.” Spoke Jack as he knelt in the marshy ground of the Korcari Wilds.

“O Crucified, guard my soul as I give myself over to my beast. Let my humanity still be strong as the rage of battle fades.”

Jack stood up and crossed himself. “Amen”.

His three companions joined him as he finished and they set out across the marsh.

“So,” Alistair asked. “What exactly were you doing there?”

“A prayer before battle. I noticed some of you praying with your local priestesses in the camp.” Jack responded. “So, I figured I should do the same.”

Alistair hummed to himself. “I just suppose that’s fair. But why did you choose to do this in the Wilds instead of back at camp?”

“Because Duncan told us not to piss anyone off if we could help it.” Jack said. “Do you really want me praying to my “heathen god” surrounded by a bunch of Chantry mothers?”

“Yes. I doubt that would end well.” Alistair conceded. “But wait. You said god, didn’t you pray to two?”

Jack shook his head. “No. There is only one God. The first murderer is the progenitor of my race. He is not a god.”

He put his hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “Look, it’s not really important right now. Let’s just head out.”

“Oh,” Jack said remembering something. “One thing first.”

He called upon the Protean power within his blood and channeled to his hands. His fingertips burst apart and in several seconds Jack’s fingers had been replaced with foot-long, knife like claws.

“Maker’s breath!” One of his companions yelled in shock. The Gangrel couldn’t remember his name.

“Look,” Jack said. “Mr. . . what’s your name again?”

“Daveth.” Daveth said with a hint of annoyance.

“Daveth. You guys don’t have to worry about this. It’s just a discipline. Kind of like what I did with those wolves a bit ago.”

The group of prospective Grey Wardens had been attacked by wolves shortly after entering the Korcari Wilds. While the party could have destroyed them, Jack had instead made use of the Animalism discipline to convince the wolves to leave. And then, like now, he had to explain that this was a natural ability of the Cainite race, and not some “evil” blood magic or some such nonsense.

“I don’t know. It just seems unnatural.” Alistair said. “Oh, but if we do run into anymore wolves, can I pet them?”

Jack gave Alistair a blank look in response. “What. No . . . I just . . . shut up Alistair.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Jack’s first encounter with the darkspawn began with an arrow to the face.

He had been walking to the front of the other Wardens when he spotted some movement from a nearby hill, quickly followed by a flurry of arrows.

Most of those bounced off, considering that he was a Gangrel with considerable knowledge of the fortitude discipline, but one did manage to tear though one of his cheeks and though the roof of his jaw.

A fairly trivial injury for a Cainite, but obnoxious nonetheless.

The red haze of frenzy briefly creeped at the edge of Jack’s vision but he fought it back.

These darkspawn things weren’t worth frenzying over. He’d be punishing them for this insult anyway.

More arrows flew from the hill, followed by band of man-shaped rotten looking creatures that Jack assumed were darkspawn.

With a feral roar Jack charged the darkspawn and let loose with his claws. Their primitive armor was shredded like tissue paper and blood sprayed like it was coming out of a hose.

The darkspawn proved to be ferocious but not particularly competent. Though not one ran from battle they fell like chaff before the claws of the enraged Cainite.

It really reminded Jack of fighting shovel-heads.

Except these things were smart enough to pull off an ambush.

When one darkspawn remained, Jack forwent his claws and plunged his fangs into its throat and started to feed. The creature struggled but Jack continued to suck until the pathetic vessel was completely empty.

The thing tasted sour, like a stronger version of the smell coming from Duncan and Alistair. It was a little off-putting, but it paled before the utter satisfaction and fullness that could only be found from draining a human dry.

The Gangrel gave an involuntary ecstatic moan and looked to see how the other Wardens were doing. They appeared to have cleared out the darkspawn on the hill and were now busy staring in shock at their blood-sucking companion.

“Andraste’s knickers!” Alistair swore. “What was that?”

Ripping out the arrow lodged in his jaw and channeling blood to the wound, Jack gazed disdainfully on his companions. “It was me eating. I drink blood to survive. Didn’t we already go over this?”

“Yes, but that was an animal! We didn’t think you’d eat people.” Daveth said.

“I was under the impression that darkspawn aren’t people.” Jack said.

“Yes but . . . it looks so much like . . .” Alistair’s voice trailed off. “But it has the taint! And you just drank a whole darkspawn! You’ll probably be dead before we reach the outpost.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “For a human that might be true. But you forget, I am already dead. From what I’ve been told the taint can only infect living organisms. I doubt that this taint could any more affect me than it could a rock.”

Turning away from his companions he began to walk towards their abandoned outpost. “If you have any more complaints,” He called from over his shoulder, “Just write them down so you can all whine at me at the same time when we get back to camp. It’ll be more efficient that way.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Jack screamed in rage as a darkspawn emissary shot a bolt of acid into his shoulder. Snarling he crushed the head of a hurlock he was fighting and charged the emissary. He dodged another bolt of acid and tore its belly open with his claws.

These darkspawn had been more formidable than Jack expected. While most of them were fairly unskilled, they were dangerous when directed properly.

Throughout the Warden’s journey through the Wilds the darkspawn had ambushed them with annoying frequency. The darkspawn attacked from cover, laid traps, and threw magic while using their expendable hordes as cover for their real attacks.

It was depressingly similar to fighting the Sabbat.

Regardless, the fight was over for the moment. The area seemed clear of darkspawn for the moment and the outpost was in sight.

When the Wardens entered, however, they were in for disappointment. To their dismay the entire structure had been looted down to the bedrock. The most that remained were the splinters of some old chest.

“Well, well, what have we here?” A sultry voice greeted Jack as he desperately searched the rubble for the treaties. “Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?”

Turning around, Jack could get a full view of the woman behind the voice. She was a fairly young human with pallid skin and vibrant yellow eyes, dressed in some primitive collection of rags.

Also, to judge from the staff she was carrying, she was probably a mage. Best to tread lightly with this one. Jack still had some acid burns from those emissaries.

“What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?” The woman said.

“Does this fetid swamp belong to you then?” Jack responded. “I didn’t see any indication of that when I entered. Perhaps you should put up a sign. You could label it “Property of badly dressed witch woman.””

The witch sneered in response. “I do not need to mark my wilds like some mindless animal. I know them as only one who owns them could. Can you claim the same?”

She sauntered past them and turned around. “I have watched your progress for some time. "Where do they go," I wondered, "why are they here?" And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?”

“Don't answer her.” Alistair warned Jack. “She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby.”

“You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?” The witch asked scornfully.

“Yes, swooping is bad.” Alistair mumbled back.

“Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?”

Turning to Jack, the witch asked, “You there, abomination. I doubt a creature like has cause to fear from any witch. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine. Let us be civilized. As much as something like you can.”

Jack sighed. “Look, I don’t really care about your name or this lovely piece of wet dirt you call home. If you have the Grey Warden treaties than hand them over. If not, then sod off so we can go back to doing Warden stuff.”

She scowled at the Gangrel. “Fine then. I will be brief. My name is Morrigan, and my mother is responsible for removing the treaties.”

“Great. Then do you suppose you could take us to her?”

“There is a sensible request.” Morrigan answered. “Odd considering the source, but I will agree.”

“I'd be careful.” Alistair said quietly. “First it's, "I like you..." but then "Zap!" Frog time.”

“She'll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch.” Daveth whined back.

“Look,” Jack snapped at Daveth, “If you’re so concerned about wandering around with someone likely to eat you, then why the hell have you been traveling with me?”

Daveth opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it and just stood nervously in silence.

Morrigan rolled her eyes at the display. “Follow me, then, if it pleases you.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

And so, the Wardens followed Morrigan deeper into the Wilds eventually reaching a primitive looking hut with a grey-haired old woman standing in front of it.

“Greetings, Mother.” Morrigan said to the woman. “I bring before you four Grey Wardens who—”

“I see them, girl.” The woman answered. “Mmm. Much as I expec. . .” Her voice trailed off as she got her first good look at Jack, her face an expression of shock, quickly morphing into a snarl of pure hatred.

“Cainite.” The woman growled out in disgust. She waved a hand towards the Wardens, and Jack’s entire world became fire.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Arthur Dawson had been a member of the Sabbat longer than any mortal’s natural lifespan, and every one of his one-hundred-ninety-seven years of experience led him to one inescapable conclusion.

The Sabbat had failed.

While humans were obviously inferior to Cainites, they still had a place to play in God’s creation. But then why did the Sabbat treat them so poorly?

Though many in modern nights had forgotten this, the Sabbat’s noble crusade against the Antediluvians and their pawns had begun not just to save the Cainite race, but the human race as well. If the ancients were allowed to rise then it would be the doom of all that exists.

Cainites would naturally take their rightful places as rulers of the earth after their final victory over the ancients, as was right and proper for those who had saved the world.

But being an elevated being came with responsibilities as well as privileges, something that the Sabbat had once understood.

Now, however, many of Arthur’s brethren had cast aside their duties, their honor, and their God, all for the sake of meaningless cruelty. Those who had cast down the wicked Baali in Tenochtitlan and destroyed two of the vile Antediluvians, had been reduced to a collection of gore-streaked psychotics desperate for their next thrill.

It was enough to drive a monster to despair.

But in the depths of his darkness, Arthur had found light.

Through circumstances he did not entirely understand he now found himself in this new land the locals called Orlais.

And he knew his purpose.

“People of Orlais!” Arthur screamed from the top of a small platform to a crowd of peasants bellow.

“The Chantry has lied to you! When the Tevinter Imperium enslaved the south, they called for war! But when your own nobles do the same, what is their response? That this is the Maker’s will!”

These so called “Chevaliers” who inhabited this land were a disgrace to the ideals of chivalry. The nobles they served were no better. But Orlais could be purified.

The Sabbat could be purified.

“You live in terror of your noble “protectors”, fearful of the day they turn their greed upon you or your wives! Kept in in servitude only because they are more powerful than you!” The power of the presence discipline radiated through the Lasombra’s voice, his majesty filling the hearts of the onlookers with the truth of his words.

“But they can be defeated. Behold!” Arthur grabbed two bundles from behind the platform and dumped them before his audience. The peasants gasped in shock at the sight of the two defeated and bound Chevaliers, wide eyed and terrified at the feet of their captor.

Though Arthur was loath to admit it, they had been decent fighters as far as mortals were concerned. Despicable they might be, but the Chevaliers were no slouches when it came to combat.

That might be problematic. Still, those few among them who could be called righteous would be needed in the days to come.

“I defeated these men!” Arthur’s voice boomed. “I can show you how defend yourselves! I can share my power with you!”

Arthur Dawson knew how he had arrived here. It was obvious.

Caine had sent him.

The Dark Father had seen the depths of depravity his children had sunk to, and had provided a solution. The Lasombra would destroy this corrupt Orlais and raise up a new lineage of Cainites from its ashes.

A new Sabbat.

And when he had an army of Cainites true to Caine’s vision at his back, Arthur would find a way back to earth.

He would purge the Sabbat of the maniacs and internalists that plagued its ranks. The Camarilla would be destroyed. The Antediluvians would be hunted down and brought to justice for their manipulations and their betrayal of Caine.

Cainites would take their due.

“Though it is true that the ruled have obligations to their masters,” The Lasombra explained to the crowd. “They also have a duty to those below them. To serve and protect, to be fair and deliver justice. But your rulers have done nothing but take from you, rape you, and murder you!”

He raised his arms to the heavens. “Join me and I and together we will overthrow your corrupt rulers and bring justice to this blighted realm! Join me and we will free the human race from the lies of Andraste! Join me and be free!”

To emphasize his point Arthur pulled out a sword and beheaded one of the Chevaliers. The blood of the false knight flowed out from his ignoble neck and trickled down the platform and into the soil of Orlais.

The first drops of a tsunami.

And so, the truth of Arthur’s words burned itself into the minds of the audience. It couldn’t have been otherwise.

For Arthur was of the seventh generation of Cainites. His blood close enough to the first murderer to access powers that that could shake the very fabric of reality.

And while so many of his brethren frittered away their eternities with meaningless politics or petty grudges, Arthur Dawson had spent his unlife becoming strong.

Strong enough to bend the minds of mortals with a word.

“Will you join me?” Arthur screamed at the crowd before him. “Will you throw off your chains?”

The peasants stood up and cheered, stomping their feet with their fists raised in the air. Bloodlust was clear in their eyes.

Arthur had won them over, but this was only the first step. He would have to embrace new Cainites from the worthiest among them, train them in the art of warfare.

He wouldn’t go charging right into the nearest army of course. Arthur was not some idiotic shovel-head.

It would start as an insurgency, patrols ambushed, tax collectors waylaid, and those responsible vanishing into the countryside like a fog.

He would spread his influence from town to town, embracing new recruits as he went.

Then the cities. Every back alley and inn would become a refuge for his cause and trap for his enemies. The nobles would be unable to travel outside their castles without the protection of an army.

While they were blind to the infiltrators amongst themselves.

“Now hear this Celene!” The Lasombra concluded his speech. “Though your empire has survived many foes, you will not survive this. Though the tides of darkspawn and Tevinter have broken against your defenses, you will be shattered by the Sabbat!

“Fear the Sword of Caine!”

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Everything was fire.

A huge wall of flame surrounded the hut, penning in the Wardens like cattle.

The other Wardens readied their weapons, Morrigan stood slack jawed, but Jack didn’t notice.

Jack only noticed the fire.

His beast was screaming at him to run. To abandon his comrades. To tear through anyone and everyone standing between him and safety.

He would if he could.

But he was surrounded by the fire. Any attempt to flee would only destroy him. Jack knew this, but Rötschreck still surged against his mind like a tidal wave.

So, Jack stood still like a statue, every ounce of his willpower dedicated to staving off the beast.

He could hear talking, words, loud and demanding. But Jack couldn’t understand them.

And then the fire vanished.

The beast subsided.

Jack, now free from his terror, found himself face to face with the old woman.

“It has been so long since I have seen one of your kind,” sneered the woman, “I had forgotten how pathetic you are when in the presence of fire. I like to think that it brings out your true selves, unburdened by the facade of humanity.”

Her voice hardened. “But enough of pleasantries. What are you doing in Thedas vampire?” She spat out the last word like a poison.

“I . . . I don’t . . .” Jack stammered, still recovering from the mental trauma of the fire.

Of course, the woman wasn’t particularly sympathetic to Jack’s difficulties.

“How did you come to Thedas? Answer me!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know how I got here.”

The witch looked pensive. “Yes, I believe you. You’re one of Ennoia’s spawn. Her brood were barely capable of thought, much less deceit.”

After taking a moment to absorb her statement, Jack was of two minds about the witch’s speech. He was torn between being insulted by her incredibly racist stereotype, and utter terror at the very thought of his clan’s Antediluvian.

He quickly settled on terror.

“You don’t know anything about Ennoia!” Jack screamed at the witch. “You can’t know! You don’t!”

“What is going on here?” Alistair’s voice cut through Jack’s fear and confusion like a knife to the face, and was just as painful. “Who are you supposed to be and what in Andraste’s name are you talking about?”

The witch seemed to notice him and the others for the first time. “My name is Flemeth, Wardens. Do you have any idea what you have accepted into your ranks? For an organization dedicated to fighting monsters, you seem to be quite willing to recruit them.”

Daveth’s eyes widened. “Flemeth?” He exclaimed in a high-pitch tone. “She’s a witch of the Wilds! She’ll-” His statement was interrupted as Flemeth flicked her wrist and Daveth went flying off into the brush as if some massive invisible hand had swatted him aside.

“Silence! I am not in the mood for such idiocy.” She took a moment to look over the remaining Wardens. Focusing on Alistair she said, “I take it you lead this rabble?”

Alistair, weapon at the ready, answered the witch. “Yes. I am the senior Warden present. And if you attack my companions again and I will be forced to slay you. I was a templar before I was a Warden.”

Flemeth threw back her head and laughed.

“You? Slay me? Oh, how precious of you!” She chuckled. “That was almost enough to bring back my good mood.” She cast a sideways glare at Jack. “But not quite.”

Flemeth frowned. “But you did not come here to threaten an old woman. You came for your treaties, yes? And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these.”

Alistair lowered his sword slightly. “You... oh. You protected them?”

“And why not? I had every intention of delivering them to you. As far as I knew the Darkspawn were my greatest concern. Until this abomination crawled to my doorstep.

"A blight sweeping over the land would be in the interests of no one. But what of his kind?” She pointed at Jack.

“A choice between a plague of darkspawn or a plague of blood? I would prefer the former. The darkspawn can be pushed back, an archdemon slain. But as for the Cainites?” She shook her head.

“Even if he is as innocent as he claims to be, his very presence is a signal to other, greater monsters.” At this her face that seemed almost regretful. Worried perhaps? Jack didn’t know, nor did he particularly care, still in turmoil from the mention of his clan founder’s name.

“Even at their very height, the Evanuris could barely hold back the Antediluvians.” She continued. “And nothing in this age could even dream of the power they once held. Cainites only grow stronger with age. It has been so very long . . ." Flemeth trailed off, thankfully uninterested in explaining the ludicrous drivel she had just spewed.

Unfortunately for Jack’s peace of mind, the humans didn’t seem like they would let this slide.

“What?” Alistair spluttered. “You can’t just say something like and leave it! What in the Maker’s name does that even mean?”

Flemeth smiled. “I think your friend might be better able to explain this to you. And he will.”

Before Jack could react Flemeth thrust her hand out at him and he felt something strange go through him. A human might describe it as a tingle on the inside of their skin. But he hadn’t felt anything like that since he’d been embraced several years ago.

Being dead had that effect.

“Where is Ennoia?” Flemeth asked him, all traces of amusement gone from her voice.

Jack opened his mouth to lie but to his complete surprise, found himself speaking the truth.

“As far as I know she hasn’t been seen in around two thousand years, but,” Jack clamped his mouth shut, unwilling to divulge clan secrets.

“But what?” Flemeth snarled at him.

Jack’s mouth snapped open of its own accord, and the Cainite stood helplessly as his body committed treason against his clan, and the Camarilla. “Justicar Xaviar claimed that she has begun to devour her descendants from torpor. He says that she’s waking up. I didn’t believe him. None of us did. Not until,” Through sheer stubbornness, the young Gangrel forced himself to stop talking.

This whole experience was surreal, but not entirely novel. This was not the first time Jack had been unwillingly commanded by a more powerful being. If he could still dream, he would be having nightmares of the utter hell his existence had been under the thrall of Prince Roy.

He stood before the witch, helpless to move his arms, his legs, or even his eyes. Flemeth appeared so much like Roy in that moment. The man he had hated more than anything else in his unlife.

That hate gave him the strength to resist Flemeth for a moment.

Unfortunately for Jack Tanner, all the hate in the world couldn’t change the fact that he was a Neonete, and Flemmeth was something much more.

“What happened afterword?” the witch demanded again.

The Week of Nightmares had happened. The Ravnos Antediluvian woke up and devoured his descendants along with an entire country of humans.

Though it was killed through unknown means, the ancient had left a terrible mark before its passing.

A whole clan gone.

Two-hundred million humans consumed.

The masquerade hung by a thread.

But more than that, the entire Cainite race now knew that the Antediluvians were real. They knew that their ancestors could rise up on any night and feast on the heart’s blood of their children.

And the Gangrel clan were next on the menu.

Jack Tanner was not going to tell this to Flemeth. The Gangrel clan had refused to share the knowledge of their coming destruction with the other clans, and though he had declined to depart the Camarilla with the majority of his clan, he still kept this secret.

He would not divulge it to some mortal witch who lived in a swamp.

And though his options were limited, there was one part of his body he could still move.

Decision made, Jack Tanner bit off his own tongue and spat it at the witch’s feet.

Everyone present was in shock.

The Wardens, who had been apparently been more interested in what he had to say, rather then his safety, stared in a mix of surprise and disgust.

Except for Daveth. He was still in the bushes somewhere.

And Morrigan had apparently made herself scarce while Jack was distracted.

But Flemeth was still there, and had a look of honest surprise on her face. Jack wasn’t particularly great a reading people, but he had the weird feeling that his act of self-mutilation had come as more of a shock than anything else since their meeting.

She stood still for a moment, pursing her lips, and finally gave a heavy sigh.

“Very well Wardens, you may take your treaties and your pet monster.” She said. “Just leave my Wilds.”

And so, they collected their possessions and returned to Ostagar in silence.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Though it longer than they might have wished, eventually the Wardens found their way out of the wilds and back to Ostagar, though a little worse for wear.

Daveth had suffered a fairly nasty concussion from hitting his head on a tree, Jack was still missing his tongue, and the other two were still . . . processing recent events.

Jack figured it would take them a while.

Though the mission could have gone better on certain fronts, namely Jack’s utter humiliation and loss of his tongue, not to mention the divulging of several clan secrets, it could have gone worse too.

In the end, he had accomplished his main goal, the retrieval of the darkspawn blood and the Grey Warden treaties.

In time Jack’s tongue would grow back and the shame would fade. But the secrets he’s been forced to give up would be far more problematic.

His companions were already giving him sideways glances. Jack new that they considering what the witch had said, wondering if he was safe to keep around.

They would have been fools not to.

Not to mention the rest of what that old crone had revealed. That the Antediluvians had been here. That they had fought a war with something here.

And that those unknown creatures had won against the clan progenitors.

Assuming it was true, and Jack wasn’t naïve enough to take the witch at her word, it raised lot of unsettling questions.

Did they sire any progeny before they left? Are did any of those survive? Did Jack’s blatant actions just break some sort of local masquerade?

Or maybe, the Antediluvians were still here.

Well, not Ennoia, but the other ones. It could be that they had been hiding away here this whole time, safe from the hungry jaws of their childer.

His arrival could have even woken them up. Who knows, Jack be the one responsible for releasing Gehenna.

This whole situation was madness.

But giving in to paranoia would be even more insane.

Jack had experienced first-hand the madness Antediluvian’s memory could inspire in their descendants. Prince Roy, Regent Gavin, Sheriff Medici, and the entire Sabbat stood as testimony to that.

It really did put the Inner Council’s decision to lie about the Antediluvians in a different perspective.

Not that Jack wasn’t bitter about that, he was. But he could understand it. Even agree with it to an extent.

It would be hard to argue that his personal experiences hadn’t influenced his decision to remain in the Camarilla.

But none of that mattered right now. Even if any of this madness was true Jack lacked the capacity to effect it in any way.

It was best to let sleeping Antediluvians lie.

At the moment his only concern was Duncan and the Joining.

And so, after a quick delivery to the kennel-master Jack made his way over to Duncan’s campfire.

______________________________________________________________

Duncan was standing exactly where Jack had left him, starring into his fire with a look of such profound intensity that the man probably had to practice that facial expression in the mirror.

Upon seeing the returning recruits, Duncan left his fireside vigil and went to greet them. “So, you return from the Wilds. Have you been successful?”

It was a fair question. One which Jack would have been inclined to answer if he had a tongue. Though seeing as he did not, he simply growled.

Alistair stepped to the front of the group. “Yes, they have. And try to forgive Jack. He decided to bite out his own tongue on the way back.”

Duncan blinked in surprise. “What? Why would he do that?”

“I’ve been wondering that myself.” Alistair deadpanned. “The treaties were in the possession of some apostates. A woman and her mother. But when the older one saw Jack she just went unhinged. She started ranting about how his race were worse than the Darkspawn.

"Then she used some sort of magic to force him to tell his secrets. He bit out his own tongue rather than give them up.”

Duncan frowned. “That is unexpected. He had told me that he believed he was the first of his race to set foot in Thedas.” He glanced at Jack to which the vampire just shrugged in response.

“Unexpected as this may be, it does not change our purpose. This can all be investigated after the blight is dealt with. But for now, our first priority are the darkspawn. We shall proceed with the joining as planned. Alistair, take them to the old temple.”

_____________________________________________________

“At last we come to the Joining.” Duncan said as he began the ceremony.

And it was about damn time too. If Jack had to listen to any more Jory’s bitching or about Daveth’s hero complex he swore he was going to rip out his own ears.

Because really, what right did Jory have to complain that joining the Grey Wardens was a stupid decision? At least he had a choice.

Jack had never chosen his own destiny. From his embrace, to his exile, to his appointment as the Prince’s scourge, Jack’s decisions had always been made by others. To have this idiot whine about problems that were entirely his fault seemed disgustingly entitled.

“The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation.” Duncan continued.

“So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint.”

Jory blanched. “We're... going to drink the blood of those... those creatures?”

“As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you.” Duncan affirmed. “This is the source of our power and our victory.”

“Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the archdemon.” Alistair said.

“Not all who drink the blood will survive and those who do are forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret. It is the price we pay.” Said Duncan.

“We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?”

Alistair stepped forward and bowed his head. “Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you.”

Duncan raised a goblet full of darkspawn blood. “Daveth, step forward.”

Daveth obeyed and brought the cup to his lips. Several seconds later he bowled over in pain and began to scream.

“I am sorry, Daveth.” Was all Duncan could say as his first recruit died.

“Step forward, Jory.” Jory did not obey. Instead, the idiot decided to pull a blade on Duncan. Naturally enough, Duncan killed him for it. And there was one recruit left.

He handed the cup to Tanner, saying, “You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good.”

Jack drank. It tasted kind of like normal darkspawn blood, but a bit more refined, if that made sense.

But it didn’t change him.

After all, how could it? Jack was dead. The taint could only affect the living. Unless . . .

Duncan had noticed the Cainite’s lack of reaction and began to frown. Jack held up a hand to signal the Warden to wait.

Because Jack had an idea.

Most substances that affected humans couldn’t affect Cainites.

Unless they were in the bloodstream of a human.

And Daveth’s body was very fresh.

Jack walked up to Daveth’s body and plunged his fangs into the corpse’s neck. As he drained the body, he could feel something new coursing through his veins.

They burned like molten lead, the pain only increasing until the vampire passed out.

They thing he remembered was Duncan’s voice saying, “From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden.”

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

What exactly happened to Cainites when they rested for the day or went into torpor had always been a bit of a mystery, even to the Cainites themselves. They didn’t sleep as such, and certainly didn’t dream, the Week of Nightmares notwithstanding. And yet it was undeniable that their streams of consciousness did persist in some form while at rest.

Methuselahs directed their servants even while in torpor and the Antediluvians shook the world from the depths of their slumber.

How this occurred was unknown. But it did not change the fact that Cainites did not dream.

And so, Jack Tanner dreamed.



Jack bit his lip as he pressed the blade of his shovel into the dirt under the watchful eye of his sire.

If he hadn’t known the purpose behind it, he might have almost welcomed the distraction from his newly dead body. The breeze on his face felt dulled somehow, like his body was numbed. His skin was sickly pale.

And he was hungry in ways he’d never been before.

But he continued to dig.

Dirt flew and Jack dug until he hit flesh and winced at the sound of metal against meat.

He barely noticed the wetness on his cheeks as he shoveled the dirt off of the body buried beneath him.

The digging stopped when he uncovered the pale face of the torpid creature he was exhuming.

Emilia Tanner.

His mother.

Jack turned to his sire, Caitlin Murray, and said, “I did what you asked. Just get it over with.”

Caitlin smiled down at him. She was the most terrifying thing Jack had ever encountered. She didn’t look it though, not at first.

At first glance she appeared to be fairly attractive woman in her mid-thirties, with curly red hair and innocent girlish features.

That same woman had torn apart the monsters that had kidnapped him and his family with ridiculous ease.

Shortly followed by his father and younger sister when they rose from their graves.

“Good work childe.” Caitlin said. “Now,” She tossed a knife to the side of the grave. “Destroy this shovelhead.”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “I though you were going to . . . deal with this. You can’t expect me kill my own family!”

Caitlin shook her head. “No little fledgling. I’m your family.” She stated in a motherly tone. “Your connection with them died when they were turned by the Sabbat. You need to understand that.

"When I saw you fight back, when you struggled to survive when your parents and sibling stood like sheep and accepted their fates, I saw something special in you. That’s why I saved you from the mass embrace and changed you into something greater.

"And I can take that away.

"Now I need you to prove you are worthy of the gift I gave you and to cut your ties from the mortal cattle.

"Take that knife and saw off your mother’s head. And if you don’t, I will destroy you and do it myself.

"And after you’re done, dig up the other three and do the same to them.”



Blood surged through Jack’s veins as the Cainite woke from his slumber.

He snarled as soon as air entered his lungs, shame and self-loathing fueling his enraged shriek.

After his embrace, Jack had thrown himself into vampiric society with a passion, discarding almost all ties to humanity in his effort to forget his former life.

And it had worked.

Jack hadn’t even thought about his old family in over a year. Enforcing the Camarilla’s will and fighting against the Sabbat had become his entire life.

Especially fighting the Sabbat. Jack Tanner still hated the Sabbat.

And as the lost memories of his family swirled through the Cainite’s mind, he wondered why.

If he had truly discarded his ties to humanity, then what reason did he have for a personal grudge against the Sword of Caine?

Notwithstanding their constant attempts to kill him, they had never done anything particularly notable to him since his embrace.

Certainly not in comparison to his fellow Camarilla.

He knew that he didn’t care about his old family, but the thought of their deaths still brought him grief.

They had died as soon as the Sabbat sank their fangs into them. There was nothing to be done about it. Really, what he did was a mercy.

It was undoubtably the moral decision.

Yet Jack’s memory of that act revolted the Gangrel to his core.

This whole situation was wrong. Cainites had no business feeling this way. The deaths of cattle were nothing to a creature like him.

His sire had warned him against this kind of madness. Caitlin had said that eventually all Cainites who stayed too close to humanity would tear themselves apart from their internal struggles.

He hadn’t really believed her, but she hadn’t minded. Apparently, that was all part of the natural cycle.

Caitlin had been confident that in time he would come crawling back to her and beg to be enlightened from his mortal weaknesses.

That, like her, he would wish leave humanity behind and travel the Path of Harmony.

And that smug bitch had been right.

Jack tore himself off of the ground, looking for something to take out his anger on. The Wardens were nowhere to be seen, the old temple empty except for him and one terrified guard.

He walked up to the guard and demanded, “Where are the other Wardens, human? Why was I left alone here?”

The guard gulped loudly before answering. “The, um, other Wardens weren’t sure if you would wake up. They had a meeting with the king so they left me to tell them if you recovered. They should have finished by now so I’ll just go and let them know milord.”

With that, the soldier scuttled off in the direction of the Warden’s camp leaving Tanner to himself.

“Damn it.” Jack thought to himself, “Nothing about this place makes sense. If that stuff I drank was just darkspawn blood, it shouldn’t have affected me. I sucked of few of those things dry and it was fine.

Grief and shame continued to swirl within him, to an extent he hadn’t felt since his embrace.

It was . . . positively unnatural.

“Fuck this.” Jack thought. “I don’t know whether that blood I drank did something to me, or if this is just my human weakness bubbling up. The only thing I do know is that whoever’s responsible for this is going to pay.”

Snarling at the empty air, Jack stalked off in search of Duncan.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

The king’s camp was full of activity as Jack walked through it. Soldiers went frantically about their duties, chantry mothers gave prayers, and defenses were prepared.

It looked like the battle would be starting soon.

Jack briefly wondered how long he’d been out for, but quickly dismissed the thought.

He had better things to think about.

By this point, his grief and shame had receded leaving only anger behind.

Not just at what the joining had made him feel, but at the sheer presumption of a human having done it.

It had been one thing to be made to dream by an Antediluvian. Those beings could do as they pleased.

But for a human to do it? The very thought made Jack’s blood boil.

He’d been willing to work for one for a time, but that was always going to be temporary.

But this crossed a line.

And the Grey Warden camp was in sight. Duncan seemed to be gone, but Alistair was still here. He’d have to do.

Jack marched up to Alistair and demanded, “Why was I not informed about the side effects of the Joining?”

Alistair looked blankly at him before responding, “How did you get your tongue back?”

“Wait, what?”

“You bit out your own tongue. And now it's back.” Alistair said. “How in the Maker’s name did you do that?”

Jack frowned. “My species can heal from a lot. It does take a bit of getting used to. But what’s really important is that you didn’t tell me that I would dream after the Joining. As a matter of fact you didn’t tell me anything about the Joining.”

“Yes, I had terrible dreams after my Joining.” Alistair said. “And it is custom not to speak to outsiders about the Joining. Far fewer would volunteer if they knew what happened after that.”

“I don’t care!” Jack snapped back. “My species do not dream. We are dead. The dead do not dream. But after your little joining I did. I demand an explanation.”

Jack barred his fangs and snarled, “Where the hell is Duncan?”

Alistair rolled his eyes. “Well you see, there’s this Darkspawn army about to attack, and the king asked Duncan really nicely if he could do something about it. So, he’s a little busy right now.

"We on the other hand, have something else to do. When the Darkspawn are fully engaged, the king will alert us to light the beacon in the Tower of Ishal, so that Loghain’s men will know when to charge.”

He shrugged. “I was hopping to fight in the battle, but we have our orders. I’m sure Duncan will be thrilled to hear whatever complaints you have after the battle.”

Jack glowered back. One hand he wasn’t exactly disappointed that he would be missing the battle. After all, it’s not like he cared about Ferelden.

On the other hand, he was not happy about Duncan finding a reason to excuse himself.

“Fine.” Jack said. “But this isn’t the end of this. After the battle I’m going to have my answers.”

________________________________________________________________________

The battle began soon.

As for what Jack thought about it, well, he didn’t feel he was truly qualified to judge.

He may have had experience fighting against the Sabbat and mortal hunters, but the Gangrel was well aware that this did not translate to experience on a traditional battlefield.

The battle for New York hadn’t really been a battle as such, more like series of raids and counter insurgencies. The clash of armies against armies was entirely new to him.

Still, he was able to take something from the experience. As he tore across the Ostagar bridge, Jack became aware that the Darkspawn were smart enough to construct and maintain siege equipment.

Largely because they were currently pelting his position with flaming boulders.

Which seemed a poor indicator for how the battle was going. While the Darkspawn were engaged with the king’s army, and Loghain could some damage from a flank attack, there were also a lot of darkspawn. Perhaps enough for Loghain’s troops not to make a difference.

“Really, it’s just good that I’m not on the front lines.” Jack thought, as he dodged another boulder.

Regardless, the bridge was crossed and the tower of Ishal was in sight.

It was not quite what Jack had been expecting. Namely that its garrison was currently fleeing their posts while being pursued by Darkspawn.

Because, as Jack learned after cornering a fleeing soldier, the Darkspawn had burrowed up from under the earth, and currently occupied the entire tower.

Apparently Loghain hadn’t considered that a race known for living underground and being good at digging might use their main mode of transportation in battle.

Really, Jack should have expected something like this. It was about par for the course for this stupid planet.

Alistair immediately demanded that they all barrel through the front doors and light the beacon themselves.

Jack had other ideas.

“What in Andraste’s name are you doing?” Alistair demanded. “We need to go light the beacon, and you’re playing around with rope?”

“Nope.” Jack stretched out a piece of rope he had salvaged from some siege equipment. “I’m testing a rope, and it appears to be in great condition. Now tie this end around your waist. I don’t want you fall off.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Jack said, “One of the rules I’ve set for myself is that I do not assault entrenched positions. I’ve seen better people than me die that way.

"The darkspawn have shown themselves to be fully capable of building and using fortifications, and seem quite fond of using ambushes. Often with fire.

"Considering the darkspawn have had a fair amount of time to fortify their positions, lay traps, and how defensible that tower is, I’m not going though the front doors.”

Jack tied one end of the rope around his neck. “So, I’m going to climb up the tower. My protean claws should be able carve out handholds without any difficulty.

"Keep in mind the alternative to this is attacking the darkspawn by yourself. So, feel free to take whatever path you choose.”

Jack smirked. “I’m sure Duncan will be thrilled to hear whatever complaints you have after the battle.”

Alistair winced.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Jack grimaced in pain; hands wrapped around the spear sticking out of his chest.

Really, the whole plan had started out so well. Alistair hadn’t even put up that much of a fuss when he was hauled up the tower.

Well, if you didn’t count the screaming and begging to be let down, but besides that.

Jack’s claws had torn into the rock, and while a heavily armored Alistair wasn’t exactly a light burden, Jack’s vampiric strength had managed the weight.

It was after they’d reached the top that things started to go wrong.

The room had appeared to be empty, so Jack dragged up Alistair and ordered him to light the beacon.

As soon as he had done so, a massive ogre came out of the lower chamber and slammed Jack into the wall.

It died eventually. Blunt force damage did little to Jack’s fortitude hardened skin, while his own claws carved through the monster’s skin like it was butter.

But more darkspawn came.

Individually, they couldn’t do much to him.

But a horde of darkspawn?

It was simple math.

And without Loghain’s reinforcements, there was no point in running, the darkspawn were everywhere.

Though Jack had killed many darkspawn before falling, he still fell.

As a wooden spear pierced his heart and he fell unconscious for the second time in one night, Jack Tanner cursed Duncan, the darkspawn, and Thedas itself for causing him such misery.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Awareness returned to Jack as the wooden shaft was torn out of his heart. As he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Flemeth looking down at him like something she scraped off her shoe.

“You see Warden?” She said to Alistair who was watching with a shocked expression. “I told you he wasn’t dead. Well, no more dead than usual. Wood through the heart just leaves them paralyzed.”

“But how is that possible?” Alistair asked. “Nothing can survive with their heart pierced. It’s just not natural.”

“And you’ve just figured that out, have you?” Flemeth said. “If you’re surprised by this than you just haven’t been paying attention.”

She glared at Jack. “As for you Cainite, isn’t it traditional to thank someone for saving your life? At least you can stop gaping like a beached fish.”

Jack winced as he picked a stray arrow out of his chest. Apparently Flemeth hadn’t bothered to remove any of the other weapons lodged inside him.

“Why? Why would you save me? You didn’t seem particularly fond of my kind the last time we talked.”

Flemeth laughed. “Is it impossible to believe that I did it out of the kindness of my heart?”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, it is. Powerful people don’t do kindness. It’s how they get powerful. Now what do you want?”

“What do I want?” Flemeth growled back. “What I want is for a Thedas free of your disgusting breed of parasites.”

She sighed. “But that is no longer possible. After our meeting I felt is necessary to see if the taint of vampirism had spread elsewhere. And it has. Orlais is infested with Lasombra.”

Well shit. Jack didn’t know what Orlais was but he damn well knew the Lasombra.

Back in New York, the Lasombra had pretty much run the Sabbat. There were still Tzimisce running around the sewers and antitribu filth doing the grunt work, but all decisions began and ended with the Clan of Night.

Also, he knew that a pack of Lasombra had been the ones to kill his mortal family.

Suffice to say that Jack’s opinion the Lasombra was not high. Really the only benefit to being stuck in Thedas had been that he didn’t have deal with them anymore.

So much for that.

“Well,” Jack said. “Thanks for informing me. I’m going to go back to hiding in the Brecilian Forrest. Have fun with the Sabbat.”

“What!” Alistair demanded. “You’re just going to abandon us? You made an oath when you joined the Grey Wardens. It would be spitting on Duncan’s memory!”

Jack simply shrugged. “I joined the Wardens because they offered me something useful. I had always planned to leave when their usefulness ended. That time just happened to be sooner than I had expected.”

He sighed. “Look Alistair,” he said. “This isn’t my home and your people are not my people. The fate of Ferelden doesn’t really matter to me. Perhaps if these darkspawn were invading my homeland I might be tempted to help, but as it is? I have no reason to put my life on the line.”

Alistair looked furious but Flemeth just smirked.

“That’s were you’re wrong Cainite. Tell me, how did that archdemon blood go down? Did it not settle as well as you’d hoped?

“I hadn’t known precisely what it would do, but I had a pretty good idea. I could see the black veins in your aura the moment I laid eyes on you. While the joining wouldn’t have much effect on a normal Cainite, it would deeply scar one with multiple souls. The kind of condition that only comes through an unsuccessful diablerie.”

Wait, what?

“Tell me, have felt different since you devoured another Cainite? Personality changes, foreign memories, of perhaps an increase in intelligence?”

What the hell was that old bat talking about? Jack’s sire had told him that sometimes diablerie could have strange side effects, but that was the sort of thing that happened to crazy Sabbat, not him.

Besides, Jack hadn’t felt anything like she was describing.

Or not much of it.

At least since not since he’d been put on trial for the diablerie of prince Roy Vannier.



Oh.



Damn.



“What exactly are you implying?” Jack growled back.

“I’m not implying anything.” Flemeth answered. “I’m stating that as a result of the archdemon’s connection to your soul, both of them, your mind is going to tear itself apart.”

She chuckled. “I wonder how it will happen. Will your souls fight each other for dominance, foverever struggling for the same body? Will you fall to wassail? Perhaps even some stranger fate. I could stop it, but as you said, the powerful do not indulge in kindness.”

If Jack was still capable of sweating, he would be. This whole outlandish scenario was actually plausible. For all he knew that witch could be telling the truth. Diablerie could to some screwed up things, and combine that with freaky mortal magic and the potential for weirdness was limitless.

Still, best to keep cool for now and see what the witch wanted.

“Alright.” Jack ground out. “Let’s say I believe you. What do you want?”

“As it happens, I need the darkspawn taken care of and you are a Grey Warden, whether you like it or not. Simply take care of the archdemon and I will heal your soul.” The witch sneered at the Cainite, seemingly exultant in her victory. “Does this seem fair to you?”

Not particularly. Though it would have been quite the novel experience if it had been. Doing suicidal tasks for powerful assholes could pretty much sum up Jack’s last two years.

Still, if there was even a chance that Prince Roy’s soul could somehow take over Jack’s body, this stupid mission was worth the risk.

The blood bond had been bad enough, but cohabiting a body with his tormenter would be worse.

Before Jack could answer Flemeth, something seemed to occur to her and she resumed speaking. “And one other thing. My information on your kind is somewhat antiquated, so I am going to need you to tell me about this “Sabbat” that is causing such a stir in Orlais.

"I know you don’t wish to betray your kin, but surely this doesn’t extend to the children of Lasombra? Would you truly be opposed to harming them?”

Honestly, Jack wouldn’t. As long as it didn’t harm the Camarilla or Clan Gangrel, any opportunity to screw over the Sabbat was fine with him.

And seeing as the masquerade didn’t really apply here, there was no reason not to agree to this.

Though he took pains not to mention the Antediluvians in his explanation, Jack was honest about the utter monstrosity of the Sabbat. He sparred no details of their atrocities, fanaticism, and utter contempt for humankind.

Perhaps a little to honest. Alistair, who for some reason stuck around to listen, ran out of the clearing and vomited halfway through a description of a Festivo dello Estinto festival that Jack and his coterie had raided.

Even Flemeth looked a little green for that.

Regardless, Flemeth got what she needed, and after some discussion with Alistair about possible allies against the darkspawn, ordered the Wardens to take her daughter with them on their journey.

And so, Jack left the wilds behind to begin the long task of saving the world, and more importantly, himself.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

For the most part, Jack Tanner preferred to work alone. Sometimes that was impossible, but often enough you could get a job done without relying on others.

This was not one of those times.

“Goddamn it Alistair, shut up!”

Relying on others always came with problems. Namely that everyone has their own interests, and when those interests inevitably come at cross purposes, it is usually followed by betrayal, murder, and costly lawsuits.

“No, I will not shut up. How can you just stand here and act like this is normal?”

Still, Jack had enough experience in working with other people to recognize when a group was likely to fail and when it was it was likely to succeed.

“Look I understand that you are somewhat disturbed by my previous act of cannibalism. I assure you that is not considered acceptable in civilized Cainite society. In fact, the people judging my trial for said cannibalism were quite clear on that. Right before they declared my cannibalism legal.”

After over a day of traveling and nonstop bickering, Jack was positive that this was going to be the most cohesive and productive team he’d ever been on.

That probably said a lot more about his previous teams than his current one.

“It’s not just about that!” Alistair snapped at Jack. “You told us that you were from some strange race from another continent. And it turns out your entire “race” are just a bunch of abominations.”

“No.” Jack replied. “I implied that I was from a somewhat normal species that had children naturally. I never said it outright. If you’re too dumb to figure the truth out on your own than that’s your problem.”

Alistair had not been happy when Morrigan told him what Cainites really were. Apparently Flemeth had given her a crash course after they met for the first time.

“Say Morrigan,” Jack said. “Your mother gave you the basics about Cainites, right? You don’t suppose you could tell Alistair that we’re not really abominations?”

“He is correct Alistair.” Morrigan answered. “Cainites are not abominations, at least that is what mother informed me.”

“Thank you Morrigan.” Jack said.

“Despite what your Chantry may say, the Fade is a natural part of our world.” Morrigan continued, ignoring Jack’s praise. “Demons, being spirits corrupted from their original purpose, are also natural. Cainites are not.”

At this Morrigan gave Jack a measuring look. “Cainites are aberrations. They defy the natural order. They should not be. Even my mother does not know what their true origins are.”

“Very helpful Morrigan.” Jack said sarcastically. “Tell me, do you have a single original opinion to yourself? Or does your mother just tell you what to think for you?”

Morrigan scowled back at the Cainite. Apparently, he’d hit a nerve. “I admit,” she said “That she may be more knowledgeable in certain subjects than I. That does not make me her puppet.”

“What else can you call being completely reliant on another person to inform your worldview?” Jack said. “What more complete form of slavery can there be?” And as a Camarilla neonate, Jack had a lot experience with that. The elders did love to control information.

“Well then by all means enlighten me creature.” Morrigan sneered back. “Tell me what you really are. If only to put myself ahead of my mother.”

“Cainites,” Jack answered back, “Are an act of God. Our existence, our powers, and our rule are all ordained by Him. I stand before you as an unliving miracle. You should be in awe.”

While admittedly somewhat egotistic, Jack did consider his words to be true, at least to a certain extent.

After his embrace, he’d had his doubts about the transformation of Cain into Caine, as he’d doubted the Gospel of Christ in life. But repeated exposure to the supernatural had changed that.

Jack had devoured a soul, been burned by a holy artifact of the Society of Leopold, and witnessed that thing Sheriff Medici had summoned before the Archons had put him to the torch.

Really, if that wasn’t enough to inspire faith, what was?

Of course, Morrigan didn’t see it that way.

“An act of God you say?” Morrigan said. “While I might expect that sort of nonsense from Alistair, hearing it from you, I am almost disappointed. So superstitious.”

“Listen swamp witch,” Jack snarled back. “You can insult Alistair all day long, but if you- “

Jack was interrupted by a loud barking noise from further up the road. He brought out his crossbow only to lower it again when a large dog came tearing around a bend in the road.

A rather familiar dog at that.

The dog was unfortunately followed by squad of darkspawn in close pursuit. Though why they would bother pursuing a dog somewhat puzzled Jack.

Regardless, the darkspawn alpha, a hulking brute that was somewhat better equipped than his peers, made a throat-slitting gesture at Jack and signaled his minions to charge.

Jack snapped off a shot with his crossbow, which missed, and charged the darkspawn as he grew out his claws.

He tore a darkspawn’s hand off before smashing its head in. Then downed another when he ripped out its entrails. All the while Morrigan rained down magic and Alistair dueled the alpha.

Soon enough there was only one remaining and the Cainite simply tore out its throat and guzzled down the spray.

As the ecstasy of devouring a life faded, Jack ran his tongue over his blood-soaked fangs and grinned. Thedas might have been a trash heap, but it had its perks. A whole race for him to consume without worrying over the finer points of morality. The Gangrel couldn’t remember being so well fed.

“Well that was appetizing.” Jack said to no one in particular. “Hey Alistair, is that dog the one we helped cure of darkspawn taint back at Ostagar? Why the hell would it follow us all the way out here?”

“I think it was looking for you.” Alistair said. “He’s chosen you. Mabari hounds are like that. They call it imprinting. Though I’ve never heard of them choosing a . . . creature like you.”

“It’s not that unusual.” Jack said as he kneeled down and scratched the dog behind one ear. “I’m from the Gangrel clan of Cainites. We have always had a connection with beasts. Especially dogs.”

“Does this mean we’re going to have this mangy beast following us around now?” Morrigan whined. “Wonderful.”

“He’s not mangy.” Alistair said.

“He certainly isn’t.” Jack agreed. “You know I’ve always wanted a dog. Had one for a bit too, until my sire ate it.

“If you’re going to travel with me, you’re going you’re going to need a name.” The Cainite said to the dog. “I think I’m going to call you . . . Roy.”

Yes, that was perfect. Jack had been Roy’s dog, now Roy was going to be Jack’s dog.

“I think you and I are going to get along fine. It’ll be good to finally have some decent conversation around here if nothing else.

"Though it occurs to me that if I’m going to be fighting more darkspawn, I can’t have you getting sick again. I might just have an idea about that . . ."

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

The human capacity for mass suicide never ceased to amaze Jack.

Take a bunch of humans, give them a bit of alcohol and some blunt objects, and suddenly they think they can take on anything.

Case in point, these idiots.

“Greetings travelers!” Said a weaselly man as Jack and his companions arrived at the outskirts of the local village. The man was followed closely by half a dozen armed thugs.

“Highwaymen. Preying on those fleeing the dark spawn I suppose.” Alistair commented.

“They are fools to get in our way. I say teach them a lesson.” Said Morrigan.

“Now is that any way to greet someone?” The bandit said in mock offence. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. A simple ten silvers and you're free to move on.”

Jack just raised an eyebrow. “Are you guys sure you want to do this? It’s a lot harder to rob actual warriors instead of defenseless peasants. You might get hurt.”

“What, by you?” The bandit answered. “You barely look old enough to hold a sword, much less wield it. I think we’ll be fine.”

It should be noted that despite his fairly impressive abilities at inflicting violence, Jack Tanner still possessed the body of a sixteen-year-old. Granted, different expectations about adulthood in Thedas as compared to modern America made it less noticeable than he was used to. But sixteen was still a lot younger than you would normally find on a battlefield.

Honestly, Jack was surprised no one had brought it up before.

It still pissed him off though.

“Right. I’m done with this.” He said. “Alistair, I don’t see anyone watching. Would you care if I eat these idiots?”

“If I said “yes” would you actually listen to me?”

“No.”

“That’s what I figured.” Alistair sighed. “Just . . . try to make it quick.”

“Wait, what’s this about eating us?” The lead bandit said, eyes widening as he saw claws grow out of Jack’s fingers.

“By the Maker!” The bandit screamed while fumbling for his sword, followed by incoherent gurgling as the Cainite tore open his rib-cage.

The rest of the bandits followed in short order. While mortals could, and often did pose lethal threats to Cainites, this was mostly the result of preparation, extensive training, and overwhelming numbers.

These bandits had none of those.

A more empathetic person might have even felt sorry for these poor fools.

As the last surviving bandit knelt in the viscera of his comrades and begged for his life, Jack Tanner ripped off his head and brought the neck stump up to his mouth so all the blood could gush down his throat.

Alistair gagged at the sight, and Morrigan had apparently decided to ignore the whole affair. Tanner didn’t care though.

As far as he was concerned, the bandits had initiated hostilities, and were therefore fair game. If they didn’t want to die, then they shouldn’t be threatening to kill others. It was only fair.

Besides, Jack had been ghouling his dog on the journey by feeding it some of his own blood, and was somewhat hungry as a result. The bandits had solved that problem quite nicely.

“Thank Andraste that’s over.” Alistair mumbled to himself as he stared at the headless corpse of the bandit. Neither Jack nor Morrigan bothered to acknowledge him.

“Well here we are Lothering.” He said while looking over the town in question. “Pretty as a painting.”

It looked like a dump to Tanner but whatever. It was all probably very impressive by Alistair’s primitive standards.

“Ah, so you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you?” Morrigan said to Alistair, her voice dripping contempt. “Falling on your blade in grief seemed like to much trouble I take it?”

“Is my being upset so hard to understand?” Alistair snapped back. “Have you never lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died?”

“Before or after I stopped laughing?” Morrigan answered, as Jack snickered in the background.

“Forget I asked.” Alistair said before glaring at Jack. “And just what are you chuckling about?”

“Heh, the thought of my sire dying.” Jack said. “It does have a certain comedic element.”

“By “sire” I assume you mean the person who turned you into an abomination?” Alistair asked.

“I’m not an abomination, but yeah.”

“Would you really be laughing at the death of your actual mother? The woman who actually gave birth to you?” Alistair pressed Jack.

“I, ah . . . well, . . . I . . .” Jack stammered a bit before shutting his mouth and starring at the floor. The whole topic was something Jack very much didn’t want to think about, much less talk about.

Alistair gave Jack a look that the Cainite had difficulty sorting. Whatever it was it made him very uncomfortable. Thankfully it only lasted a few moments before Alistair broke the awkward silence.

“So, I thought we should talk about where we intend to go first.”

Jack just grunted.

“I think what Flemeth suggested is the best idea.” Alistair continued. “These treaties . . . have you looked at them?”

“No”.

“Right.” Alistair said in a somewhat annoyed tone. “There are three main groups we have treaties for: the Dalish elves, the dwarves of Orzammar, and the Circle of Magi.

“I also think that Arl Eamon is our best bet for help. We might even want to go to him first.”

“Why the hell are you asking me?” Jack said. “No don’t answer that, it’s pretty obvious.

“I understand that we can’t all be leaders, but you need to understand that I know nothing about this place. I have no idea who any of these people in the treaties are, and thus I would have no better way to decide which one to visit first than by picking one at random.

“I can’t be the leader, which means either you have to man up, or we’re left with Morrigan. And considering that she’s lived her whole life in a swamp,” At this Morrigan gave the Cainite a withering look, “I doubt she’d know much more than me.”

“You’re right I suppose.” Alistair admitted. “We’ll start with Arl Eamon. But first we need to resupply at the village. It’s time to head in.”

“Right.” Jack said. “Oh, and one more thing. I think it’s best if we keep my nature as a Cainite a secret from here on out. We don’t have the protection of the Wardens anymore, and we don’t want to cause a panic.”

“Does that mean you won’t be feeding off of anyone?” Alistair asked hopefully.

“For the moment.”

“Thank the Maker for that.” Alistair said. “Maybe this won’t be a total disaster after all.”

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Prince Roy Vannier considered himself to be a wise and enlightened ruler, and thus did not kill someone simply for being the bearer of bad news.

Even if that person was the worthless excuse of a Kindred known as Jack “The Rat” Tanner.

“Jack. As you were the only one at site of the event to survive the incident, I will require you to tell me what precisely occurred.”

The Gangrel was knelt down on one knee before the desk of the Ventrue prince in an obvious state of terror for his life.

Which was hardly fair. The Sabbat would probably kill him long before Roy put his mind to it.

“Y-yes my prince.” Jack said nervously. “I regret to inform you that the Sabbat have raided your weapons storage facility, killed everyone inside, and made off with all of the special explosives you had stored there.”

Roy had first met Jack a bit over a year ago. His sire, Caitlin Murray, had formerly been a Sabbat before being expelled from the group over some sort of ideological schism.

He hadn’t expected much of the Gangrel fledgling then. Prince Roy had just seen another sort lived pawn to be thrown into the jaws of the Sabbat.
And then one month ago this terrified little savage had crawled into Roy’s office and told him that his current employer, the local Tremere regent, was planning a coup.

Though a Gangrel neonate wasn’t exactly the most reliable source of information, it still bore looking into. And sure enough, Regent Gavin was indeed planning to overthrow Roy.

Roy didn’t know if the coup would have succeeded without Tanner’s warning. There were still unanswered questions as to how large the conspiracy had been. But he did know that it would have weakened New York’s Camarilla sufficiently that the Sabbat would have devoured them whole.

Which of course left the question of how to reward the neonate. Obviously, Roy couldn’t put him in a position of trust. After all, if he could turn on one master, he could turn on another.

On the other hand, he couldn’t leave the neonate unrewarded either. The perception that the Camarilla didn’t reward loyal service was one of the largest factors drawing neonates to the Sabbat.

And so, as benefiting his position as prince of Manhattan, Prince Roy came up with the perfect solution. He appointed Jack Tanner the official scourge of his court. An utterly useless title that he had never used before and probably never would again.

Jack even turned out to be a surprisingly competent subordinate. Since his employment as scourge he done some significant damage to the local branch of the Society of Leopold and acted as a scout into Sabbat territory.

The only problem is that Roy now had to put up with his obnoxious personality.

“I am aware that the weapons depot was attacked. What I don’t know is precisely how that happened. Tell me.”

“Where do you want me to begin?” Jack asked.

“Start at the beginning.” Roy answered.

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth . . .” Jack said, with a small smile.

Case in point. The stupid kid thought he was clever.

“Not that far back you insolent mayfly.” Prince Roy snapped. “Tell me what happened at the beginning of last night. Not the beginning of the universe.”

“Right sir.” The Gangrel quickly said. “As per your orders I was scouting into Sabbat territory for targets of opportunity and I found what I believe to be a spawning ground for new shovelheads.

“Since the Sabbat like to use these places multiple times, I decided to requisition some directional explosives from the facility so as to ambush the Sabbat the next time they used the area.”

“And I assume you took appropriate measures to ensure this does not endanger the masquerade?” Roy asked.

“Of course, my lord.” Jack answered. “I had already chosen a street gang to take the blame for the explosion.

“Anyway, when I arrived at the depot the attack was already in progress. Most of the security team stationed there had already been killed and the Sabbat were loading their loot into some trucks.”

“Yes, the security team.” Prince Roy said. “That we had stationed there specifically to deal with incidents like this. Do you have any idea how they were disposed of so easily?”

“Yeah, about that . . .” Jack said with a sour look. “After the raid was mostly finished, I managed to catch one of the shovelheads involved by himself and beat most of the story out of him. He claimed that the operation was planned by a Malkavian and based on the evidence I didn’t find that particularly surprising.”

Great. Roy was getting a headache just thinking about whatever stunt this lunatic pulled.

“You see,” Jack continued. “Your ghoul and human security forces have to stay up to times that are not usual for mortals and so they drink a lot of coffee to keep themselves awake. The building we hid the weapons in received a shipment of new coffee every evening, but it seems that the Sabbat found out and tampered with the supply mid transit.”

“Did they poison the shipment?” Roy asked.

“No sir. If they had done that it would have put the whole base on alert.” Jack said as if visibly pained. “They replaced it with decaf.”

Roy blinked. “What.”

“That was my reaction as well.” Jack said. “The security team probably assumed it was a mix up in paperwork or something. The Sabbat still took huge casualties, but our security was thrown off their game just enough for them to succeed anyway.

“Considering that most of the Sabbat force seemed to be made up of fresh shovelheads, I doubt they lost anything of value in the assault.”

Jack bowed his head, report seemingly over.

“Your involvement in this matter is concluded. For now, continue to harass the Sabbat and wait for further orders.”

As soon as Jack had exited the room Sheriff Medici appeared beside the prince from under his cloak of obfuscation.

“This is a disaster.” He said. “We have reports of vozhd in the sewers and the Nosferatu are going dark. We can’t fight those things effectively without that heavy weaponry.”

“Do you think you can recover them?”

The sheriff shrugged. “Perhaps. I’ll certainly try. But in the meantime, we should try to find some replacement equipment. We might need to make a purchase from the Giovanni.”

“That might be a poor decision.” Roy replied. “I’ve come to suspect that the local Giovanni may supplying information and equipment to the Sabbat.”

Medici raised one eyebrow in response. “Are you sure about that my lord?”

“No. I am not. Which is why I suggest we send someone to investigate. I was thinking . . . Jack.”

“May I inquire as to your reasoning my lord? Might it be wiser to send someone with more diplomatic experience? Or any? Perhaps we could send Christine?”

Roy shook his head. “No. This is perfect. I’ll send Jack as an envoy to the Giovani’s mansion. If they are on our side then they won’t kill him regardless of how boorish he is. But if they are working with the Sabbat . . .”

Medici nodded in understanding. “Then they with use his lack of manners as an excuse to destroy him before he learns anything incriminating. Very clever sir. But this still leaves me without supplies.”

“I will contact prince Vitel. He may be able to spare something. Until then make do with what you have. Now leave.”

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Jack’s entry into Lothering hadn’t been especially welcoming. Peasants had cowered in fear and ran for safety as soon as Jack and his companions set foot in the streets of their village.

This was not ideal for a group trying to be inconspicuous, but also not surprising when one of them was completely slathered in fresh blood.

It occurred to Jack that perhaps he shouldn’t have fed so messily.

Eh, too late now.

“Ugh.” Jack grunted as knelt in the village creek and washed a patch of viscera from his armor. “I think that’s the last of it. Hopefully we can buy our supplies without causing a riot.”

“I’m just glad you dealt with it before it started to smell.” Alistair said.

“And you’d be the expert on that wouldn’t you?” Jack muttered.

“Hey!”

“Anyway,” Jack ignored Alistair’s complaint. “I think you might want to purchase our supplies without me.” The Gangrel motioned in the direction of the local merchant who was currently in a screaming match with one of the local priestesses.

“I don’t really feel like interacting with the Chantry types. Besides, someone has to scout around for some information.”

Alistair looked torn. “I suppose you have a point.”

“I’m also going to need you to pick up some extra supplies. I’m running low on crossbow bolts and I need some antiseptic to clean off my teeth.”

“Anti-what?”

“Antiseptic. It’s . . .” Jack trailed off when realized he had said the word “antiseptic” in English instead of whatever the locals spoke. Apparently, they didn’t have a word for antiseptic.

“Right, I forgot you guys are living in the dung ages.” Jack said. “Just get some booze then. Preferably as close to pure alcohol as you can.”

“I thought your kind couldn’t drink alcohol.” Alistair said.

“We can’t. It’s so I don’t spread around whatever diseases the darkspawn and those bandits might have been carrying next time I feed.”

“And how does alcohol help with that?” Alistair asked.

“It kills the germs in the . . .” Jack frowned when he realized the word “germs” had come out in English as well.

“You know what? Forget it. I’m not here to be an elementary school teacher for a bunch of primitives. I just need something to clean off my teeth so I don’t cause a plague. I don’t even want to think about what hideous things were in the blood of those darkspawn I ate.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow. “And you care? You told me that the people of Ferelden were “ignorant mud-dwelling savages” earlier this morning. And you expect me to believe that you care about them getting sick?”

“Don’t get me wrong Alistair.” Jack said. “You locals are a bunch of primitive yahoos. That anyone like Cailan was permitted in a position of power proves that humans are totally unfit to run themselves. Ferelden would greatly benefit from enlightened Cainite guidance.”

“But,” and Jack held up a hand. “that doesn’t matter. Regardless of how little I think of these people, they are still human beings, which gives them some intrinsic value.

“If a human makes themself my enemy then I’d kill them without hesitation. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to go around and spread plagues just because I’m too lazy to wipe off my teeth. I’m not a Sabbat.”

“No, you just seem to think you know better than the people of Ferelden about how we should run our own country.” Alistair said dryly. “It makes you sound like an Orlesian.”

“This discussion is going nowhere.” Jack growled back. “I’ll go to the village tavern with the dog and get the booze myself. You can take Morrigan and get the supplies. We’ll meet back in front of the Chantry when we’re done.”

Alistair shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Jack whistled and Roy ran to his side, tail wagging happily. “Anyway, Morrigan, while I’m gone you need to keep Alistair from being stupid. Alistair, don’t let Morrigan turn anyone into a toad. Also don’t spend all of our money.”

As he around and left the Gangrel could practically feel his companion’s glares boring into the back of his head.

But he didn’t care.

The only local whose opinion mattered to him was walking right beside him.

“Do you think I’m too hard on them Roy?” Jack asked his dog.

Roy barked back.

“They really do deserve it. Excellent point.”
________________________________________________

Lothering’s tavern turned out to be just as disgusting and sad as Jack had expected. What he had not expected was a bunch of soldiers led by a man wearing the symbol of Teyrn Loghain.

Loghain, as Jack had learned from the few peasants willing to talk to him, had seized control of the country after the king’s death and declared himself regent.

All which Jack would have been totally fine with if Loghain hadn’t decided to declare the Grey Wardens traitors to Ferelden immediately afterword.

Alistair had speculated that Loghain had done this deflect his own crimes onto another source. And since the Grey Wardens were never truly trusted in Ferelden and almost completely diminished, that made them the perfect scapegoats.

Of course, why he needed a scapegoat in the first place was a mystery to the young Cainite. In the Camarilla, or in the Sabbat for that matter, Loghain’s actions would be considered heroic.

He had abandoned an untenable position and saved what was left of the army in the process. All this had demonstrated his superiority to Cailan and thus his right to rule. A perfectly legitimate succession.

But the people of Ferelden felt differently.

It was all irrelevant though. Loghain had made himself Jack’s enemy, and therefore Jack would respond with violence. The Teyrn’s reasons, legitimate as they may be, meant nothing.

Loghain’s men seemed to agree.

“Well. Look what we have here, men. I think we've just been blessed.” The commander of the soldiers said as he swaggered up to Jack.

“Didn't we spend all morning asking about a fellow by this very description? And everyone said they hadn't seen him?” One soldier asked.

“It seems we were lied to.”

By this point Jack had figured out where the wind was blowing and began to finger his knives. While his claws would have been better, they were blatantly unnatural. And he had meant what he had said to Alistair about laying low.

Essentially, the masquerade was back in effect.

Before he could act a young woman and priestess robes walked up to him and the soldiers.

“Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble.” She said in some accent Jack couldn’t identify. “This is no doubt simply another poor soul seeking refuge.”

“He's more than that.” The commander growled back. “Now stay out of our way, Sister. You protect this traitor, you'll get the same as him.”

“Normally I wouldn’t do this, but I just ate so I’ll make an exception.” Jack growled at the commander. “Leave me alone.”

“And you think I care tha-augh!” The commander gargled blood from the dagger that Jack had shoved into his throat mid-sentence.

Hey, he had given the idiot a chance.

Jack followed with a kick to the knee of the nearest soldier. The man fell screaming as his kneecap collapsed with a sickening crunch before he fell silent as a knife stabbed behind his jaw.

Meanwhile the priestess engaged another soldier with a knife of her own. Despite being unarmored and under-armed she seemed to be handling herself pretty well.

Another two soldiers had readied bows from across the tavern and loosed a pair of arrows at Jack. One lodged itself into his ribs while the other simply bounced off of his fortitude enhanced body.

But an arrow meant little to Jack’s undead flesh.

Before the archers could fire again Jack was upon them, quickly stabbing through one’s jugular before grabbing the other soldier’s head and twisting until his neck snapped.

Jack tossed away the body and tore the arrow out of his side.

Once again, he was covered in blood and surrounded by terrified peasants.

It hadn’t even been an hour since the last time.

At least the priestess had finished off her soldier. That’s one fool he didn’t have to deal with himself.

“I apologize for interfering,” the priestess greeted Jack, “but I couldn't just sit by and not help.”

“That’s alright.” Jack said. “You certainly did well for yourself. I wasn’t aware the Chantry instructed its clergy in combat.”

“They don’t. But I wasn't born in the Chantry, you know. Many of us had more... colorful lives before we joined.

“Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the chantry here in Lothering. Or I was.” said Leliana.

“And my name is Jack.” Jack responded. “Now what exactly do you want from me?”

“Those men said you're a Grey Warden. You will be battling the darkspawn, yes? That is what Grey Wardens do?” Leliana asked.

Jack nodded.

“I know after what happened, you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming along.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Are you now? I don’t know a damn thing about you. Why should I bring you with me?”

Leliana just smiled. “Ah, I thought you might say that, but you see, the Maker wants me to join you.”

Jack snorted in contempt. “I already have a God. The commands of yours do not interest me.”

“He is not just my god.” Leliana said, looking like she was having a heart attack. “The Maker has love for all! I... I know you may not believe, but I had a dream... a vision!”

“That doesn’t mean that you’re not insane.” Snapped the Cainite. “Even if your visions are legitimate. People who see things make poor colleagues.

“That said, it’s not really my place to decide. I should probably ask my companions about this.”

Jack sighed somewhat dramatically. “I think I’m just going to let Alistair handle this one. Right after I hit the bar.”
___________________________________

Sometime later, Jack and Leliana stood in front of the Chantry with Alistair and Morrigan. The Gangrel was covered in dried blood.

“In my defense,” he said, “they started it. Also, this woman wants to join up with us. The voices in her head told her to.”

Alistair buried his head in his hands.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Though there was some debate, Alistair did allow Leliana to join their party. Of course, he did ask questions as to her skills, general sanity, and why she and Jack were covered in blood. And though the jury was still out as to Leliana’s sanity, Jack and Leliana were still able to answer the rest of Alistair’s questions to his satisfaction.

Although, Jack still wasn’t sure why Alistair brought her on board. Perhaps he was touched by her religious conviction. Maybe he wanted someone else in the group who actually cared about the fate of Ferelden. He might have just thought she was pretty. Regardless, Jack didn’t care enough to ask at the time.

He was really starting to regret decision that now.

“So, your name was Jack, right?” Leliana asked.

As soon as Alistair had brought Leliana into the group and Jack had washed the blood off of his armor, Leliana had started to ask questions. Apparently, the fight had piqued her curiosity.

“That is what I said earlier.” Jack said.

Leliana nodded. “I couldn’t help but notice how you fought back at the inn. Knife fighting isn’t easy, unless you hit in precisely the right place targets rarely die immediately. It is difficult to master without practical experience.

“But you knew were to strike. Though your fighting wasn’t exactly polished, it was experienced. Not only that, but you had no reaction to the deaths of those men. You have done this many times before.”

“And your point is?” Jack asked irritably.

“I just wonder how someone so young could have learned to kill so well.”

This is why Jack really hated that he had been embraced at the age of sixteen. It just brought up so many awkward questions.

Jack could wield a knife well because he was experienced at using them, simple as that. His body was that of a sixteen-year-old, but he’d been stabbing people since he’d been embraced a bit less than three years ago.

Mainly because he looked too young to purchase a gun, but that was beside the point.

Granted, the situation was less awkward here in Thedas than it had been back in America. And even then, the enlistment age had been at the age of seventeen as compared to Fereldan and the rest of this medieval world where noble children were regularly trained in combat from a young age.

A sixteen-year-old on the front lines wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow if you were a raw recruit, or even if you were well trained but inexperienced.

But it was another matter if you were already a hardened killer.

Unfortunately, Leliana’s concern was understandable from her point of view. Without knowledge of Jack’s unchanging body, the only explanation left he had began killing at an unfortunately young age.

“Former child soldier” was not the image Jack wanted to cultivate for himself.

“Look Leliana, I understand that this looks a little strange from your perspective, but I assure you that a reasonable explanation exists. Right Alistair?”

Alistair gave them both a flat look. “Well, there is an explanation, sure, but I don’t think that any normal person would call it reasonable.”

“Shut up Alistair!” Jack snapped back. “What the hell do you know about normal people? You smell like a latrine!”

At this point Leliana watched in concern as the two men’s conversation devolved into childish bickering. And Jack was alright with that. If she couldn’t handle this kind of squabbling than it was better for her to find out now and leave than to find out and whine about it later.

Because Alistair, Jack, and Morrigan were probably never going to stop fighting.

Of course, that wasn’t the only thing she needed to know about in advance. It would be rather difficult to disguise the whole blood drinking thing if they were going to be traveling together.

But Jack wasn’t going to explain anything until they’d left the village. While he felt no need to kill witnesses to keep his vampirism a secret like he did in New York, it wouldn’t do to have the priestess start screaming in the middle of the village that he was an abomination.

Better to tell her everything when they were out of hearing range. Jack had no interest in angry mobs.

Alistair snapped his fingers in front of Jack. “Hey, did you hear me?”

“Sorry, I lost focus.” Jack said. “Your voice tends to have that effect on people. What do you want now?”

“Oh, you know, I just thought you should admire the lovely scenery.” Alistair snarked. “I think that man trapped in the cage really brings out the rustic beauty.”

Sure enough, there was a man locked in a person sized cage right past the entrance of the village. If that wasn’t noticeable enough, the man was a giant with grey skin and white hair.

Thedas just kept getting weirder.

“I admit he really does compliment the squalor and misery.” Jack asked. “But seriously, what the hell is going on here?”

“I remember the revered mother mentioning this man. She called him a savage from the far north.” Leliana answered. “She said that he slaughtered an entire family. Even the children.”

“Alright, but that doesn’t explain why he’s in a cage.” Jack said. “If he did all that then you should have just hung him or slit his throat or something. Leaving him out to die of thirst seems pointlessly cruel.”

“It does.” Leliana said. “But this was the decision of the revered mother.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t care about her opinion.” Jack said. “I’m going to handle this myself.”

Jack set a course for the cage with the others following close behind him. It wasn’t long before he was standing in front of the man in the cage.

“You aren't one of my captors.” The man said in a deep, rough voice. “I will not amuse you any more than I have the other humans. Leave me in peace.”

“That seems like an odd thing to say to someone who can help you.” Jack said. “If you wish, I could kill you now instead of letting you die slowly.”

“My wish is for an honorable death in battle. Failing that, I will wait for the darkspawn.”

“Right. So, I heard you butchered an entire family. Is that true?”

“Yes. It is as they say.” The giant said.

Though usually a statement like that would be followed up with an explanation, the giant seemed content to leave it at that. Jack and his party were left standing around in a rather awkward silence.

“You know what? This is ridiculous.” Jack growled. “I’m done speaking to you through this stupid cage.”

Blood surged through his dead veins as Jack grabbed the door of the iron cage and tore it off by its hinges before throwing it to the side.

Jack may have sometimes regretted becoming a Cainite, but never let it be said that the condition didn’t have its benefits.

The giant’s eyes widened slightly at Jack’s demonstration of his unnatural strength. Leliana gasped in the background.

And this was fine. As there were currently no peasants in sight this seemed like a good time as any to let Leliana know about Jack being a Cainite. As for the big guy, Jack was probably going to end up killing him anyway so it wouldn’t make a difference one way or the other.

“You are not human.” The giant stated plainly.

“What’s your point? Neither are you.” The Gangrel answered back. “Speaking of which, what the hell are you anyway?”

“I am Sten of the Beresaad, the vanguard of the Qunari peoples.” Sten said. “And you are an abomination.”

At this point Leliana was getting noticeably worried, fingering her weapons and looking around nervously. Oddly enough, Sten seemed to be perfectly at ease. Weird.

Fortunately, Jack Tanner had a very high tolerance for weird.

He blamed Clan Malkavian for that.

“I’m not an abomination, no.” Jack told the giant. “Not in the sense that mages here define it, though I doubt the Chantry would see the distinction.

“But I didn’t come here to explain my rather unique condition. It was to either let you out of the cage or give you a quick death. And you haven’t really given me reason to believe you deserve to live. Murdering families and all that.”

“Wait a second Jack.” Alistair demanded. “Sten, do you . . . regret what you did?”

“Yes.” Sten said.

“If you had a choice would you do it again?”

“No.”

“We are Grey Wardens, on a mission to end the Blight. If had the choice, would you be interested in joining us as a form of atonement?”

“Alistair, what exactly are you getting at here?” Jack asked.

“I have heard that Qunari are renowned warriors. If we take him with us, perhaps he might be of some use.”

“What on earth makes you think any of this is a good idea?” Jack demanded. “He hasn’t even told us why he killed those people and you want to bring him along with us?

“And what does he think of this by the way? Does he want to travel with an “abomination?” And while we’re at it, what does choir girl over there think?”

“It would help if you told us what you are.” Leliana said. “Though you say you are not an abomination, you still have to be something, and you are clearly not natural.”

Sten didn’t say anything. He just stood there in silence with his usual stoic expression. Jack took that as affirmation to proceed.

“Right, the details can be explained later, but the basics are that I am not originally from Thedas, I am an undead, and I must drink blood to sustain myself. Animal blood will suffice. And though I may have some somewhat unnatural powers, I don’t know any real magic.”

“But you used to be human, correct?” Leliana asked.

“Yes, I used to be human.” Jack said. “I was turned into this, a Cainite, a bit less then three years ago. I haven’t aged a day since.

“So, does all that make both of you feel better? Or are you all to high and mighty to travel around with a walking corpse?”

Leliana frowned and stood in silence for a few moments before speaking. “The Maker sent me to go with you for a reason. If he sent me to go with a spirit inhabiting a corpse, then I will do so.

“I believe that the Maker has not truly abandoned humanity as the Chantry says. Perhaps he is ready to forgive spirits, his first children, as well.”

“Fantastic.” Jack sighed. “And what about you, big guy?” Jack demanded of Sten. “Are you okay with all of this?”

“Your existence is against the Qun.” Sten said. “But most things in these lands are. It is not my purpose to right them. Fighting against the Blight would be an honorable cause. Assisting you is no different than assisting one of your mages.”

“Fine, I guess you can come with us.” Jack said. “But if you go crazy again then I’m going to put you down. Understand?”

“Yes. That is good.” Sten answered.

Jack shook his head. “It looks like I’m going to be traveling with a private circus.” He mumbled. “So much for subtlety.

“As long as we’re at it, I have a pretty good story for the road. I wasn’t legally permitted to tell it back home, but it should be fine to tell it here.”

“Alright, but only if it’s nothing like that one about that “celebration” by those Sabbat people.” Alistair said. “Even if I wasn’t a Warden, I don’t think I’d ever sleep well again after hearing that.”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” The Gangrel reassured Alistair. “Anyway, this is the story of my coterie and I infiltrated a Society of Leopold base by disguising ourselves as Scientologist missionaries. . .”

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

If Jack had to describe how the trip to Redcliffe went, he would have to say it was tense. Leliana was pretty obviously struggling with the idea of Jack being a vampire and Alistair wasn’t much better. Jack thought a part of the reason for this was that the local culture didn’t have any legends about vampires or similar creatures, and so they had to view him through their own cultural lens. Which for Leliana and Alistair, meant that they saw him as an abomination.

Of course, Alistair, and to a much lesser extent Leliana, understood that the Cainite wasn’t technically an abomination by the definition of their people’s mages. Even regular undead in Thedas weren’t technically abominations.

What surprised Jack was that that difference didn’t seem to matter to them. He may not be possessed by a demon, but he was still a corpse animated by what they saw as some sort of unnatural spirit. From their position, there was no meaningful difference.

Jack doubted the rest of Thedas would see him any differently.

They might have changed their views if the Gangrel had shared any information about his kind beyond the bare minimum with them, but even that was rather doubtful.

Besides, even if telling the natives everything would make them less suspicious, that simply wasn’t going to happen. Jack may have felt it necessary to tell his current companions that he was a kind of undead that drank blood, but that was only because they were going to find out anyways. Telling them anything more would be almost sacrilegious.

Even the stories he told them of his past were heavily abridged. Not just the parts about Cainites and the supernatural, but how society on Earth worked in general. Jack was aware that to the ignorant the Camarilla seemed more like a glorified criminal group than a real country. And that didn’t really inspire a lot of respect.

It was much better to let the locals think the Camarilla was more of a traditional nation state than a secret society. Better to let them think Cainites ruled openly rather than from the shadows.

That was still more than Jack was comfortable with sharing, but circumstances dictated it. At this point Jack had mostly given up on concealing anything except for Cainite religion, physiology, or the details of their politics.

With anything else it was easier to distort information than to cover it up. Really, since his companions had no way to verify his data, Jack was free to make up whatever he wanted.

Which was fortunate, as Jack was going to have to get a comprehensive story together soon. His companions were starting to get a bit pushy with their questions, and worse, Sten seemed oddly interested when it was mentioned that Jack was from beyond Thedas. It was going to get worse when he started interacting with what qualified for authority figures around here.

Which was likely going to be in about an hour, as the party had just arrived at the outskirts of Redcliffe.

“Look, can we talk for a moment?” Alistair said. “I need to tell you something I, ah, should probably have told you earlier.”

“What is it now Alistair?” Jack grumbled.

“Well, let's see. How do I tell you this? We're almost at Redcliffe. Did I say how I know Arl Eamon, exactly?”

“If I cared, then I would have asked.”

“I suppose that figures.” Alistair said. “I'm a bastard. My mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe castle and she died when I was born. Arl Eamon took me in and raised me before I was sent to the Chantry.

“The reason he did that was because... well, because my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my... half-brother, I suppose.”

“I’m not putting you on the throne.”

“What?”

“I am not helping you seize the throne.” Jack growled. “I’m just here for the archdemon. Go find someone to help you with your political bullshit.”

“Maker, no!” Alistair said. “I don’t to be king!”

Jack’s eyes narrowed in response. “Then why the hell are you telling me this?”

“Because it will probably come up. I didn't want to walk into Redcliffe without you knowing the truth, that would be just... awkward.”

“Hmm.” Jack grunted. “Fair enough. But if all you want is a shoulder to cry on, try someone else. Maybe Sten since he seems like a good listener.”

“That is not necessary.” Sten said.

Alistair sighed. “You know, this isn’t really how I imagined the Wardens would be like when I joined.”

And for the first time since they met, Jack felt himself feeling sympathy for Alistair.

_____________________________________________________

Jack had long felt as if the universe was out to get him, and that had not changed since arriving in Thedas. Case in point, while he had hoped that dealing with Redcliffe would be as easy as stopping by and negotiating with their lord, things on the ground were a bit more complicated.

“Would you please repeat that for me?” Tanner growled out at the acting ruler of Redcliffe.

Not only did the Arl seem to be in some sort of coma, the village appeared to be under siege from some sort of “evil force” that were coming from the castle. No one knew what had happened to the Arl or his family since. Even worse was the nature of this “evil.”

“We are being assaulted by the walking dead.” Bann Teagan said.” Every night they return with their ranks bolstered by our recently dead. They fight with even the gravest injuries, even if you hack them to pieces, they still keep coming. Please ser Warden, we need your assistance.”

That was problematic. Jack had unfortunately fought zombies once before and the memory was not pleasant. More so because of what the Giovani had been doing with the zombies before the fight than the fight itself, but still.

“I don’t think we can make a decision without more information. Alistair,” Jack said, “How much of a chance do we have against the blight without Eamon?”

“Not much of one. He’s really our only way in with the nobility and without him any opposition to Loghain will have no one to rally around.”

“Hmm. We don’t know if he’s still alive so . . .” Jack muttered. “What about you Bann Teagan? Couldn’t we just evacuate you and have you get us support against the blight?”

“Perhaps.” Teagan said. “But I am still not a popular as my brother, and abandoning my lands and subjects would certainly hurt my credibility. Besides we would still need Redcliffe Castle to coordinate from even without my brother.

“But even so, I need to protect my people. I cannot abandon them even if it could defeat the blight.”

“Of course, you can’t.” Jack complained. “Anyway, what are these undead like?”

“Are you actually planning on helping these fools?” Morrigan sneered. “How pathetic. I had almost thought better of you.”

“Well I’m certainly considering it.” Jack said. “If what Alistair says is correct then we’re going to need Eamon or at least Teagan on our side. Besides, I doubt a zombie horde is going to stay contained here for long. We may as well face them now before they’re had a chance to pick up steam.

“Yes, I’ve decided. It would be best to assist in the defense. Assuming the other Grey Warden here agrees.”

Alistair nodded. “I do. And I appreciate that you want to defend these people. Whatever your reasons.”

“As do I, thank the Maker.” Teagan said.

Jack turned to address his companions. “Do any of you have any experience fighting the undead? I’ve fought things sort of like these and other Cainites, but I am unfamiliar with the local undead. Any advice you give might be useful.”

“These creatures are likely spirits possessing corpses.” Morrigan answered. “As the veil does not seem to be thin here, I suspect it is caused by a mage or perhaps a demon.”

“If we kill the summoner, would that be enough to destroy the undead?” The Gangrel asked.

“That depends on how they were created.” The witch replied. “I would not count on it.”

“Good to know anyway. Does anyone else have something to contribute?”

“Yes.” Sten said. “I have fought the Tevinters on Seheron. The magisters would often use blood magic to summon undead to fight us.”

“Do you have any advice?”

“They are durable but not invincible.” Sten said. “They will ignore most wounds, but will fall if you destroy the head or spine. Cutting off a leg is also useful.

“I saw some of the villagers outside using bows. This will not be effective. Unless you can pierce the brain, it will have no effect. They would do better to use heavy cutting weapons.”

“Does this line up with your experience Bann Teagan?” Jack asked.

“I think so.” He said. “But you would do better to talk with mayor Murdock or Ser Perth. They have spent more time fighting these things than I.”

“Right, I’ll go speak to them and see what I can do to bolster your defenses.”

_______________________________________________

Murdock and Ser Perth had indeed known more about these creatures than Teagan. Not about how they worked of course, but of how they fought and operated on the battlefield.

Unfortunately, Jack has to once again explain a bit of what he was as he would have to use his powers against the zombies. This caused some concern from the locals, especially Ser Perth, but as long as they didn’t attack him and continued to help plan the defense Jack couldn’t bring himself to care.

“The undead have no ranged weapons at all?” Jack asked Murdock.

“Not that I’ve seen.” Murdock answered. “That doesn’t mean they don’t have them. But if they do, they haven’t used them against us.”

“Okay then, I have a plan for how we should do this.

“We will put a barricade on the road to the castle which will be defended by myself and Ser Perth’s knights. When the undead attack tonight I will stand in front of the barricade to draw their attention. As they are only using basic hand weapons, they shouldn’t be too much of a threat to me. The knights will focus on hacking down any that get past.”

“I have a concern.” Ser Perth said. “I’m worried that whatever is controlling these monsters may take the field. You may have your own unnatural powers, but a malificar may prove too strong for you to overcome.”

“That’s a good point.” Jack said. “Morrigan, I assume that anything capable of animating these things would also be able to throw fireballs?”

“Tis likely.”

“Hmm, that would be bad.” The Cainite murmured. “Alright, Leliana, you will also be with me. If a mage shows up you will try to snipe with your bow. If that proves impossible, you will shoot up a flaming arrow to signal that we need reinforcements while the rest of us begin to slowly begin to fall back. Is everyone all right with that?”

There was a general muttering of agreement and nodding of heads. That seemed good enough.

“The next part of the battle will likely take place near the chantry. There are various undead wandering around the surrounding area and they will probably converge to attack us from another direction. Regardless of where they come from their ultimate destination will be the people of the village. I suggest that the rest of you fortify the area around the chantry and fight there. You’ll have your backs to the building so you shouldn’t get surrounded.

“As Sten has the most battlefield experience I suggest that he lead that part of the defense. Any objections?”

There were none.

“Good. You all know your jobs so I suggest you get to work. If any of you need rest, I suggest you get it now. It’s going to be a long night.”

_________________________________________________________

As night began to fall, every preparation that could be done was prepared. All that was left to do was wait for the enemy.

Jack sat on the newly built barricade inspecting his protean claws. It wasn’t something he needed to do; it was just something he did before combat. He couldn’t remember when he picked up the habit.

“May I join you?” Leliana came up from behind the barricade and sat next to Jack.

“It looks like you already have.” Jack said, eyes gleaming red from use of the protean discipline. “But by all means, make yourself at home.”

Leliana fidgeted for a moment before saying “You did well in planning the battle. You seem to have experience in this.”

Jack shrugged. “Well, yeah. I spent two and a half years fighting in the Siege of New York City back home. The fighting wasn’t always like this, but I certainly know how to organize a defense.

“It’s also why I didn’t leave Alistair to take change this time. I’ll let him deal with the local politics any day, but this is to far outside his area of expertise.”

“I still have to wonder why you didn’t consider infiltrating the castle to kill the mage.” Leliana said. “That might be a more elegant solution.”

Jack just shook his head. “You’re thinking like an assassin, not a soldier. Don’t get me wrong, assassins have their uses, but now isn’t the time.

“I could probably climb over the walls or claw my way through the gates, but that would leave me having to fight my way through the whole castle by myself, or close to it. It’s better to deal with the undead on an open field where they’re not entrenched.

“We can still assault the castle later. But this time they’ll have less guards and we’ll have had a chance for some proper recon.

“But it looks like we’re going to have to cut this conversation short. I think the attack is starting.”

Sure enough, a fog was rolling down from the castle with obviously unnatural speed. The undead couldn’t be far behind.

“Ser Perth!” Jack shouted. “Get your men to the barricades! Leliana you know what to do. Everyone, get to your positions!”

Undead came lumbering out of the mists and Jack charged in to meet them. Though he generally didn’t like full frontal assaults, the Gangrel didn’t expect too much trouble from these things.

The lead undead shambled toward him with a hatchet and swung at chest. Jack dodged the blow easily and bisected the creature with a swipe of his claws.

It got harder when the next three came at him at the same time.

As he crushed the last of them, the red haze of frenzy briefly came over his vision before he pushed it down. One of them had gotten a hit off before being destroyed, and while the damage was superficial it was obnoxious.

Besides, more were coming. And it didn’t look like they were going to run out any time soon.

At this point the combat fell into a steady rhythm. Groups of undead came out of the mist in waves, and while some did go around him most focused on Jack.

He would kill a few, they would move to surround him, and then he would fall back bit. Occasionally one of their blows would get through, but it generally didn’t do much damage. He had, after all, studied the Cainite discipline of fortitude quite extensively.

If the battle continued as it was, Jack would eventually be pushed back to the barricade, but by then the undead would be sufficiently weakened that he and the knights would be able to mop up the remainders.

Nothing could go wrong.

Or so it seemed until an undead managed to sneak up behind him and hit him in the back of the head with a mace.

Frenzy once again began to cloud the Cainite’s vision, and to his panic, this time he found himself unable to push it back.

Jack screamed and lashed out blindly at anything near him as anger began to take over his mind. The last coherent thought he had before the beast took over was. “I hope this doesn’t make me grow a tail.”

____________________________________________________________

Eventually the haze parted and pain surged through every part of Jack’s body. He howled in agony and collapsed on stone floor, curling into a ball and whimpering from the searing agony.

After a few minutes Tanner was able to collect his thoughts and tried put himself back on his feet, but what he found didn’t make him feel any better.

The first thing he noticed was that his left arm had been torn from just above the elbow. On further inspection it seemed he was absolutely covered various wounds of various size, and much of his skin was burnt.

It looked like someone had tried to set him on fire.

If it wasn’t for his knowledge of fortitude he would likely have died.

He didn’t notice any animal markings yet, the unfortunate result of frenzying for Gangrel, but it was undoubtably somewhere. Though usually the marks faded after a few days of rest, sometimes they didn’t. He’d heard stories of Gangrel elders sleeping for centuries to look human again after a bad frenzy.

Looking around in what Jack figured was the great hall of castle Redcliffe, he could see that it was full of corpses. Most of them looked like regular Ferelden soldiers, and had been pretty obviously killed with a Gangrel’s claws, but two of the bodies were different.

One was a woman, a noble by her clothes, who had had her head caved in. Probably the Arl’s wife, or perhaps Teagan’s wife if he had one.

The other corpse was that of a boy, aged somewhere around ten years old. It looked like Jack had torn him straight in half.

“Oh my God.” Jack whispered to himself. “I can’t believe it . . . I killed a kid. My God, what have I done?” He slumped to the floor. “This isn’t just some bandit or an idiot that attacked me first. It’s not even for the masquerade. This is just Sabbat work.”

A loud snarl from behind a piece of furniture put Jack back on alert as he spun around to face the source of the noise.

It appeared to be Leliana. She looked extremely pale with wild and clouded eyes that stared at him without any recognition. She crouched by the body of a soldier and then . . . plunged her fangs into the neck of the corpse and started to suck out its blood.

It took few moments for Jack to get over his shock at the implications.

She was a Cainite.

Somehow, he had embraced Leliana in his frenzy, and she had gone into her own frenzy from the hunger of a new embrace.

The fact that that was to Jack’s knowledge impossible to embrace during a frenzy could not change the situation in front of his eyes.

How many of these people were killed by Leliana and how many were killed by him was impossible to tell, but perhaps it didn’t matter. He was going to have such trouble explaining all this to her when she came down from her frenzy. Explaining that he might have caused her to kill potential innocents.

“At least it can’t get any worse from here.” Tanner said quietly as he sat down next to a dead soldier.

A glance towards a fallen shield proved Jack wrong. For there, on the polished surface of the shield Jack his reflection. A reflection that had two rather unexpected additions.

Slowly, Jack reached towards the top of his head with his remaining hand and felt . . . fuzzy animal ears.

The frenzy had caused Jack to grow cat ears.

Jack calmly put down his arm, took a deep breath, and started screaming at the top of his lungs.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Earlier that night

Leliana knew that this was the Maker’s will.

Though Jack wasn’t what she expected from a Grey Warden, much less someone who the Maker had chosen to defeat the evil of the blight, she knew it was her destiny to assist the Warden.

Even if she did not understand the Maker’s decision, she would obey him, nonetheless.

That was the essence of faith.

And her faith had seemingly been rewarded.

Jack was exactly what Redcliffe needed to survive the undead horde. He looked young, but he knew what he was doing.

Jack Tanner may not have been a good person, but he was nonetheless doing good.

Even then, although Leliana didn’t see Jack as a good person, she didn’t see him as an evil one either. For all his gruff exterior, and his rather disturbing habits, he had never killed anyone who had not attacked him first. Or at least not since Alistair had started traveling with him.

And although Jack assured them that his decision to defend Redcliffe was purely for practical reasons, Leliana wasn’t convinced.

His plan to use himself as bait for the undead was hardly what you would expect from a selfish person. Though it may have been the safest option for Redcliffe, it was certainly not the safest option for Jack.

He could have easily chosen a strategy that placed him in a safer position, but he hadn’t. And even if he was supernaturally tough, the undead still posed at least some threat to Jack’s life.

Jack had gone out of his way to save as many of Redcliffe’s people as he could. Even at risk to himself.

Leliana watched him from behind a makeshift barricade as Jack fought against the walking dead.

Against a smarter enemy Jack’s idea would have failed, but against the mindless dead it was working well. Most of the creatures threw themselves head on against the first thing they encountered instead of trying to flank of simply going around.

The few undead that got by him were easily hacked down by Ser Perth and his knights.

“Men, get ready!” Perth shouted. “I think we’re about to be in for some trouble!”

“My lady, you may want to ready your signal arrow.” Perth said to Leliana. “We may need it shortly.”

“What do you mean?” She answered. “Jack seems to have the hungry dead well in hand.”

“It seems strange to say, but it’s not them I’m concerned about.” Perth answered. “It’s your Warden friend fighting them.”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

“I’ve been fighting since I was a boy, and I’ve fought everything from Orlesians to darkspawn. I know when someone is about to lose control of themselves. Your friend there is starting to act like a dwarven berserker.

“Also, it’s a bad sign when they start frothing at the mouth.”

A closer look proved Perth correct. While Jack has started the fight calm and composed, he was now swinging his claws wildly while making animalistic snarls.

And yes, foaming at the mouth.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” Leliana said. “I don’t know much about how his . . . people behave. For all you know this could be normal for them.”

“Perhaps.” Perth answered. “But if everything goes well, then preparing costs us nothing. If he goes berserk, then it will have been well worth the effort.”

That made sense to Leliana, and so she decided to wait and see what would happen.

At first Ser Perth’s worries seemed misplaced. Though Jack continued to behave erratically, he didn’t seem to be getting worse either.

Until a lone undead managed to sneak up behind him and hit him in the back of the skull.

Jack let out an inhuman scream and tore the walking corpse in half. After destroying any undead in range, he ran off into the mist in the direction of Redcliffe Castle.

Oddly enough, all the remaining undead followed in pursuit, completely ignoring the knights and the village.

“Hmm. That could have gone a lot worse.” Said Ser Perth. “I honestly thought he was going to attack us.”

Leliana wasn’t so relieved. Jack may have been powerful, but she didn’t think he could survive against an entire castle of the hungry dead. He’d said so himself.

As she moved to go after him Perth grabbed her shoulder. “I wouldn’t suggest that. No one who has gone into that fog has come out alive. I know you want to help your friend but getting yourself killed isn’t going to help him.”

“But . . . I . . .” Leliana tried to object, but she really couldn’t. She may have left Bard work behind, but she still remembered the lessons of the trade.

One of those was that when a mission went bad, sometimes you just had to accept that. You can’t always save everyone.

Besides, surely the Maker would save Jack. He would never let the Darkspawn overtake Ferelden.

And so, she waited. Then about fifteen minutes later, the unnatural fog vanished.

“This is new.” Said Ser Perth. “On all of the previous assaults the fog dispersed around sunrise.”

“Hello?” Alistair’s voice came up from the path behind them. “Are you all still alive up there?”

“Alistair, what are you doing here?” Leliana said. “Shouldn’t you be defending the town?”

“Well, that’s not really a problem anymore.” Alistair said. “The undead have . . . stopped.”

“What?”

“I’m not really sure what happened. The mist just vanished and all of the undead just collapsed. I came up here to see if you were all still alive. The rest are still defending the chantry in case more come.”

Alistair looked around the area and frowned. “Speaking of that, where is Jack? Shouldn’t he be with you?”

“Jack,” Leliana grimaced, “Jack took a head wound and ran off towards the castle. He didn’t seem to be in control of himself.”

Alistair frowned. “I think he mentioned something like that on the road to Lothering. He said that his kind could sometimes loose control of themselves and go on violent rampages.

“If this is what has happened, then Arl Eamon might be in danger. We need to get to the castle now.”

“You’re right Alistair.” Perth said. “That’s why I’m coming with you. It should be safe with the undead and fog gone.

“And Eamon is the only noble powerful enough left to oppose Loghain. Without him we will have no choice but to accept Loghain’s rule or fight the darkspawn on our own.”

They left for the castle and Leliana followed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

If anyone had felt concern that the Cainite might have run off to somewhere other than the castle, the trail of bodies on the road put an end to that idea.

Undead were strewn all along the path to Castle Redcliffe. Most of them had been cut apart with his claws but a few of them seemed to have been bludgeoned to death with other undead.

One even looked like Jack had torn off its limbs with his bare hands.

The amount of strength that would require was far more than Leliana had considered possible for someone of Jack’s slim physique.

It was another reminder that for all his outward humanity, Jack was utterly unnatural.

When the group reached the castle gates, they saw that an opening had been cut straight through the metal bars of the portcullis.

Past the gates, the courtyard was a scene of utter carnage. Desiccated corpses were everywhere, though Jack himself seemingly hadn’t come out of the fight unscathed as half of his left arm was lying next to a shredded suit of armor.

After entering the castle keep, the group finally found Jack in the great hall. He was standing calmly amongst the dead knights, which Leliana noted looked not to have been previously undead, strewn on the floor.

When he heard the group’s footsteps Jack turned to face them, revealing the mutilated bodies of a woman and a young boy lying behind him.

“Well, what do we have here?” Jack said in clipped tone that Leliana had never heard him use before.

“If I had known I would be expecting guests I would taken some time to tidy up. You will have to excuse the mess.”

Alistair and the knights didn’t respond, their attention focused on the corpses of the woman and child. “Isolde . . . Connor. Jack, what have you done?”

The vampire gave a small smile. “I think you may be under a misimpression. I am not Jack. My name is Roy Vannier, former prince of New York City. Mr. Tanner has mentioned my name a few times.”

Alistair blanched. “He said that was the name of his former leader. The one that he ate.” Alistair said. “But how is this possible?”

“When one Cainite devours another,” Roy explained, “They consume not just their vitae, but their soul. But my former subordinate lacked the age or the power to subsume me, and thus I am still here. Jack’s frenzy allowed me to come out for a bit.”

“Enough of this!” Ser Perth demanded, drawing his weapon. “Where is Arl Eamon? Why have you killed his family?”
Roy sighed. “Stop.” He said, and Leliana’s entire body froze stiff. Though she was vaguely aware that the rest of the group had also gone still, her full attention was focused on Roy’s gaze.

There was something unnatural in his eyes that demanded her obedience. If the creature in front of her demanded anything of her then she would do it. She couldn’t even imagine anything else.

“This is the power of dominate.” Roy said, still holding the party in his sway. “Proof of the rightful Cainite dominion over mortals. Jack never bothered to learn it, but I am not constrained by what he can and cannot do.

“Your lord is alive, if comatose by the way. Apparently, he was poisoned and his son,” Roy gestured to the body of the boy, “made a deal with a spirit to save his life. The spirit then possessed him and brought the plague of undeath to this castle.

“The guardsmen here were all under the thrall of the spirit and thus tried to protect it from a frenzied Grangrel. They failed. The boy’s mother didn’t seem under the spirit’s control but tried to defend it anyway and suffered the inevitable fate of the stupid.

“When Jack killed the boy, the magic animating the hungry dead dispersed. Which leads us to the current situation. Feel free to verify this yourselves at a later time. The man who poisoned your master is in the dungeons and should be able to provide whatever answers you need.”

Roy turned his eyes to Perth. “You and your men are no longer required. Return to your hovels and trouble me no more.”

Perth and his men shuffled out of the castle with glazed looks in their eyes. Once they had left, Leliana felt Roy’s control lift from her mind.

“What was that?” Demanded Alistair. “Did you just use blood magic on us?”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. That was just a discipline. Though I do know how to use true blood magic, I have no intention of using it in my current state. I doubt Jack’s body could handle it.”

“It seems a . . .” Alistair paused mid-sentence, looking a but confused. “What are those things on your head?”

Leliana hadn’t noticed until now, but upon closer inspection it seemed that Jack had grown a pair of fuzzy looking animal ears from the top of his head.

In other circumstances Leliana would have found it adorable.

The Gangrel Clan,” Roy spat out the name. “When they frenzy, they sometimes gain a trait from one of the beasts they so venerate. It usually fades away after a day’s rest.”

“Speaking of animals,” Alistair said, “Jack named that dog of his Roy. Did he name that after you?”

Roy snarled. “I have had enough of your questions.” He snapped. “Our time is limited, and I have things of importance to discuss with you mortals.”

Leliana had been fairly quiet until now, not quite knowing how to react to such a strange situation. But what Roy had said made her wonder about the creature’s intentions.

“What do you expect of us?” She asked. “Do you want us help you take over Jack’s body? If so, you’re going to be disappointed.”

“Such loyalty to someone you barely know.” Roy said. “While I do plan to take control of this body eventually, I lack the ability to do so at the moment. Even if I could do so now, I certainly wouldn’t need the assistance of mortals.

“My worry, or at least the one that concerns you, is that Jack is not far off from turning into a wight.”

“A what?”

“That is what happens when a Cainite loses control of their beast.” Roy said. “The beast takes complete control of them, leaving a slavering animal driven only by their hunger. I believe it is somewhat similar to what your people call an abomination.”

Alistair grimaced. “That would be bad.”

“Indeed.” Said Roy. “Not only would this land be plagued by a monster, but more importantly, whatever is left of myself would disperse. While my current existence is not optimal, it is all I have.

“You will assist me in preventing this.”

“What do you mean?” Leliana asked. While she was suspicious of this creature, the idea of Jack becoming something like an abomination was not appealing.

“Jack’s main problem is that he lacks an emotional connection to anything or anyone in this land.” Roy said. “Even in New York he didn’t really have much to keep him grounded. I think the war was the only thing keeping him going after the shock of his embrace wore off.

“Part of the difficulty is because of how young he was embraced. Sixteen is too young to form many of the emotional connections that we remember to keep us human.”

Leliana was taken aback at the implications. “You want us to make an emotional connection with him?” She asked. “Are you . . . asking us to be his friend?”

“No.” Roy stated with a bit of annoyance. “Not that it would be a bad outcome, it is simply unlikely. Instead I plan to use his past trauma for a positive purpose.

“I believe that if he were to embrace someone that his lingering feelings of resentment for his sire would cause him to become emotionally invested in the care of the new embrace. By the time that is resolved the Sabbat will have started to move into Ferelden from Orlais.

“He will then have the choice of fighting against them or joining them. Either path will give him a cause to fight for.”

The Cainite turned his eyes to Leliana, staring at her intently. “And so, Leliana, I am going to gift you with the embrace.”

Leliana’s mouth dropped open at Roy’s words. She had gone through a lot of horrible things in her life, from torture to betrayal by her mentor and closest friend, but this was something she had never even considered.

The thought of becoming an abomination, accused in the eyes of man and the Maker was too horrifying to imagine.

“Wait!” Alistair yelled, wide eyed. “You don’t have to do this, Flemeth said that the joining may have done something to him and that she could fix it. If we defeat the darkspawn and go back to her everything will be fine.”

The former prince shook his head. “That witch knows nothing of the curse of Caine. It may be possible that the joining ritual did something to my host, but if so, then whatever unholy magics she would use would undoubtably only make things worse.”

Roy began to walk towards the pair. “Besides,” he said, “There are other concerns. My people are on the verge of destruction. The red star hangs in the sky and the Antediluvians rise from their slumber. The existence of the Cainite race and of Western civilization itself hangs in the balance.”

“Hold.” Roy spoke and Leliana froze in place once again.

“This land could be the salvation of mine.” Roy said. “If we could open a way between Thedas and Earth then some of us could wait out Gehenna in safety while the Antediluvians destroy each other. Even if that is not possible than we could at least save our race. It only takes one Cainite to start our people anew.

“Jack is so busy wallowing in self-pity that he would let this opportunity pass. I will not. Unfortunately, either option will require assistance. Cainite assistance.

“And while Jack may not have noticed I can tell that you have a background in intelligence work Leliana, I have. That and your skills in combat make you worthy to receive the blood of Clan Gangrel, though not the blood of one of the higher clans.”

He glanced at Alistair. “We shall return to our campsite outside the village when we are done. Now leave us.”

Alistair walked out leaving only Leliana and Roy. “I am sorry about this but understand that this is for the greater good.” Roy spoke quietly. “Not just for my people but for yours. Only when Cainites united through the Camarilla did humanity lift itself out of its primitive squalor into something glorious.

“You now have the chance to join me in saving your people from yourselves. To give these humans the enlightened guidance they never knew they needed, either through a new Camarilla or as the guiding hand behind the savage Sabbat.”

As the Cainite sank his fangs into Leliana’s neck she felt indescribable pleasure followed by nothing.

Ever since she had been betrayed by her mentor Marjolaine and joined the Chantry, Leliana had believed that the Maker spoke to her, that she was chosen for a greater purpose.

In later times she would ponder whose voice she had been hearing for years. She wondered it had been the Maker and receiving the embrace had caused him to cast her from his sight, or if she had simply been delusional the whole time.

Regardless of whose voice it was, after her embrace she would never hear it again.

__________________________________________________________________

Author's Note: Sorry about the Hiatus. The quarantine just killed my motivation to write for a while.

I'm still not really happy about this chapter but here it is anyway.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

This wasn’t Jack’s first frenzy, but it was easily his worst. Not just in terms of casualties, though that was a concern, but the most awful part of this was the cat ears.

Finished screaming, Jack knelt down on the floor and put his head in his hands.

If it was just something like a lizard tail or a pair of owl’s eyes, He could have lived with it. But cat ears?

Dear God, he was a fucking furry.

If the ears didn’t fade away, then he would never be able to go home again even if he did find a way to get back.

He could just imagine what would happen if he tried. Everybody at court would start calling him a catboy or a neko and he would probably be banished to the wilderness or kept out of sight as a danger to the masquerade.

Worst of all, Sheriff Yui and that sadistic harpy Christine would probably think his ears were cute or something. Knowing Christine, she might even try to put a collar or a bell on him.

It was hideous enough before when she called him her “pet” without it becoming literal.

It was just too awful to contemplate.

Still, there wasn’t any point worrying about that unless he was sure the ears wouldn’t go away on their own. If they were still there in a week, he could freak out then.

A glance at the still feral if currently placid Leliana was a reminder that there were other things that the Gangrel should be worrying about.

“This would probably be easier with both arms.” Jack muttered as he pulled a crossbow bolt out of the quiver of one of the fallen guards.

“Hey Leliana,” Jack said as he walked up to the former sister, “I have something for you.”

Leliana swung a fist at Jack but he dodged and shoved his crossbow bolt into her heart.

As Leliana fell unconscious Jack grabbed her by the waist and hoisted over his shoulder.

“I guess the only thing I can do know is head back to camp.” Jack said to himself. “It’s not like I can head back to the village or stay here after I killed those people.

“I’m still going to have a lot of explaining to do. Which might be easier if I knew how any of this actually happened.”
Jack sighed.

“And on top of that I have to teach the Chantry sister how to be a Cainite. And I’m going to have to figure out how I managed to embrace her in the middle of a frenzy.

“I never should have joined the Grey Wardens.”
_________________________________________________________
When Jack got back to camp both Alistair and Morrigan were waiting for him. Both of them armed and looking rather upset.

Not Sten through. He was just sitting by the fire and looking stoic with the dog.

“Uh, I know that this doesn’t look good,” the Cainite noticed Alistair staring at the torpid form of Leliana draped over Jack’s shoulder, “But I can assure you that there is a reasonable explanation for all of this. And I someday hope to know what it is.”

Alistair lowered his sword and grimaced. “I don’t think it’s him.” Alistair said. “Roy didn’t talk like that.”

“Of course, Roy doesn’t talk like that.” Jack snarled. “He’s a dog. Now what the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t remember?” Alistair asked.

“I do not remember anything from my frenzy.” Jack said frostily. “Now get to the point before I frenzy again.”

Alistair sighed. “Alright, but you should probably sit down for this. This might be a bit of a shock.”
___________________________________________
That turned out to be an understatement.

If Alistair was to be believed, and Jack was still skeptical of anything that came out of his mouth, Prince Roy’s consciousness was apparently floating around in Jack’s head and wanted to take over his body on a permanent basis.

Roy putting him under a blood bond back in New York had a hellish experience. But the very idea of the Ventrue possessing his body was so appalling that Jack couldn’t even muster the strength to be angry about it.

In retrospect, diablerizing Roy instead of tearing his head off may have been a bad decision.

But what made the situation worse was that Jack couldn’t think of any way out of this. Besides the unreliable promises of Flemeth he had nothing to go on.

If he was back on Earth then he would have had options. He could have asked an elder for advice, gotten a Tremere to use some sort of magic on him, or even tried to go down a path on enlightenment.

But here in Thedas, all of those options were closed to him.

Still, it’s not like any of that was Jack’s fault. There had been no way of knowing any of this would happen back on Earth, it was just bad luck that this had all happened now.

It’s not like Jack had any forewarning of this.
____________________________________________

New York City, October 3, 1999​

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Hhm?” Jack grunted as he glanced over his shoulder. “What are you on about this time Dieter?”

While Jack didn’t really have any friends, Dieter Mach was probably the closest thing he had. The German Tremere had lived in New York City since 1934 and currently served as an unofficial leader for the city’s Tremere after the death of Regent Gavin.

Though Gangrel typically didn’t get along with Tremere, Dieter was an exception to that rule. Dieter had always shown a respect for members of other clans and had ideas about ethical uses of thaumaturgy that were unusual for the Warlocks.

Those sentiments didn’t make him popular with the Pyramid, but Jack and other younger members of the Camarilla appreciated it.

“I’m just pointing out that you haven’t really been acting like yourself lately.” Dieter said. “Honestly, I’m kind of worried.”

“That’s all you have to say to me? I just got myself acquitted from a bunch of Archons for diablerizing the former Prince in front of the whole court. Don’t I deserve some congratulations?”

Jack was still honestly surprised he managed come out the trial intact. If the circumstances hadn’t been so strange than he probably wouldn’t have.

While diablerie is normally illegal, it is the prerogative of a Prince to authorize it under certain circumstances. As such, at one point in 1998 Prince Roy issued an order legalizing diablerie against Sabbat elders to anyone who would assist in the war effort.

Of course, when Roy defected to the Sabbat himself a year later that made him a valid target for his own order.

What made the trial even stranger was that the Archons had handled it directly.

Normally a trial for diablerie would be handled by the Prince, but with Roy’s death Sheriff Medici, who had led the coup against him, took over the position. But a few days later when Medici’s childe Yui reported that he was consorting with demons the Archons had arrived in the city and had him burned at the stake.

And he had been consorting with a demon. Jack and the rest of the court had seen the evidence firsthand.

The demon had even told them so itself.

But even with the unique circumstances surrounding the trial, it was still very odd that Jack hadn’t been executed. Technicalities had never meant much to the Camarilla when they wanted someone dead. And the elders never trusted anyone who had committed diablerie.

“I have to admit, I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” Dieter said. “Your legal argument was absolutely brilliant. But that’s the problem. You’re not actually smart enough to pull that off.”

“I’m not smart enough?” Jack snarled at the Tremere. “Do you think that I’m an idiot?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Dieter said. “You’ve never been stupid, but you’ve never been intelligent either. Until now.

“In the last month your vocabulary has improved dramatically, you’ve stopped going on random profanity laden rants, and your general education level has gone from that of a high school graduate to a college graduate.”

“Where are you going with this?” Jack asked.

“Fine, I’ll be blunt.” Dieter responded. “When you diablerized Roy some part of him left its mark on you. You’ve even taken on some of his mannerisms.

“We overthrew Roy for a reason, and I don’t want him to come back in some new body. Things are bad enough as it is.”

“You’re full of crap Dieter.” Jack said. “You say that I’m behaving strangely? I think that’s normal when the entire world seems to be heading off of a cliff. If you hadn’t noticed, an Antediluvian just rose from its slumber and got nuked, our former sheriff summoned a demon which is still loose in the city, and the entire country of Bangladesh was turned into a radioactive pile of slag.

“If all of that isn’t enough to change a person than what is?”

“Alright I get your point.” Dieter said. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you if this goes wrong. Of course, you might not have that chance. I hear the Archons just came up with a plan to catch that demon. By using you as live bait.”

“Of course, they did.” Jack sighed. “Do you know what sadistic idiot came up with that plan?”

“Nothing I can verify. But I heard through the grapevine that Christine is the one who suggested the idea to the Archons.”

Jack grit his teeth in anger. “Damn it, not again. Just what else is this city going to throw at me now? Can it get worse than this?”

Dieter gave the Gangrel a tired smile. “Believe me kid, things can always get worse.”
_______________________________________________________
Okay, maybe Jack had been given a little warning. But really, with all of the stuff that had been going on at the time he couldn’t be blamed for getting distracted.

At least that’s what Jack kept telling himself.

“So, what’s our plan now?” Jack asked Alistair. “Where do you think we should go from here?”

“What? Why are you asking me?”

“Because I don’t know a damn thing about this place.” Jack said. “So, what are our options here?”

“I think we should go to the Circle of Magi next.” Alistair said. “We need them to fight against the darkspawn and they might even be able to help with your condition.”

“Wait,” Morrigan interrupted. “Do you really think those fools will know anything that my Mother doesn’t? A bunch of cowards who let themselves be locked in a cage by the Chantry?”

“Maybe not.” Alistair answered. “But they might. And even if they can’t then it puts us one step closer to stopping the darkspawn and getting Flemeth to help.”

“What about the Templars?” Jack asked. “I doubt they’ll be pleased to see either me or Morrigan.”

“Morrigan shouldn’t go anywhere near the Circle.” Alistair agreed. “But I think I can convince the Templars to leave you be. Grey Wardens have wide authority during a blight and Commander Greagoir is a reasonable man. I think he will understand under the circumstances.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Jack said. “But I’m trusting you on this, so don’t screw it up.”

Jack held out the stump where his left hand used to be. “Also, I think we should stay here for a couple of days to recuperate. Also, I’m going to need a lot of human blood.”

“What?”

“I’m in no state to fight like this and I’m going to need a couple of days to heal.” Jack said. “And I’m going to need a lot of blood to do that. And animal blood won’t cut it for something like this. Which means that you are going to convince the villagers to let me feed from them.”

“That . . . won’t be easy.” Alistair’s voice quivered a bit.

“It’s either that or I starve and go on a rampage. And the second option would permanently ruin any chance of an alliance with Redcliffe. Which we need to defeat the darkspawn.”

Alistair grimaced. “I can try. But can you do this without hurting anyone?”

Jack nodded. “If I make sure to feed without hurting anyone then I’m going to need to feed on three people a day for three to four days. We should also keep Leliana staked until we leave. She’ll need to feed as well, and I don’t want to take more blood from Redcliffe than I have to. And while you’re at it try and smooth out any hurt feelings regarding the incident at the castle.”

Alistair sighed. “I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee this will work.”

“Just try your best. If you want to get treated like a real Grey Warden, then you should start by doing something worthy of one. And this would certainly qualify.”

Jack felt his cat ears and frowned. “I just hope that these stupid things go away before we leave. They usually do but it’s not guaranteed. If they don’t fade, then I’ll never by able to set foot in any town again. Or I’ll at least have to buy a hat.”
_________________________________________________
Despite Jack’s worries, Alistair had somehow managed to keep the situation in Redcliffe under control. And strangely enough though the locals weren’t exactly happy with the slaughter of the Arl’s family and personal guard they weren’t that angry about it either.

It turns out that since the Arl’s family were under the control of a malicious spirit then they were already under a sentence of death from the Templars.

Basically, nothing had changed but the name of their executioner.

And to Jack’s utter confusion, Alistair had even convinced a few peasants to let Jack use them to feed. Apparently, they were thankful for Jack saving them all from being killed.

Still, a lot of the locals were pretty terrified of the idea drinking human blood. But after the first couple people Jack fed on turned out to be perfectly fine most of them calmed down.

They still weren’t happy about it but at least they wouldn’t be breaking out the torches and pitchforks.

Things seemed to be going fairly well, and after two days they got even better.

Jack’s cat ears went away.

Once again, he looked like an actual person instead of a disgusting animal creature. He hadn’t felt this good since killing Prince Roy.

After four days Jack was healed up and the Wardens were ready to leave Redcliffe.

The only thing left to do was to revive Leliana.

“Well, here goes nothing.” Jack said as he pulled the crossbow bolt out of Leliana’s heart.

 

[TyrantTriumphant]

Cassandra Pentaghast hated Orlais.

The nobility of Orlais was depraved. They schemed and murdered one another and treated it like a game. They viewed anyone who wasn’t them with contempt and treated their lower classes like livestock.

And worst of all was how they used the Chantry as another piece in their game.

As much as Cassandra hated to admit it, the Chantry had become corrupt in recent centuries. Where once they had dedicated themselves to spreading the Chant and caring for the less fortunate the revered mothers now focused most of their time on politics and enriching themselves.

And much, though not all, of the blame for this belonged to Orlais.

Perhaps that was inevitable. With the Chantry founded and based in Orlais it was natural that the two would become intertwined. It was equally natural that the clergy would come mostly from the Orlesian aristocracy.

After all, serving the Chantry required a level of education that could be found mostly in the nobility. Considering that many peasants couldn’t even read there was nowhere but the nobility that the Chantry could find so many potential recruits.

And while the Chantry did recruit foreign nobles, especially for regional positions, that did not change that the Chantry’s administrative center was in Orlais. Thus, most of the top positions ended up in the hands of Orlesian noblewoman.

Unfortunately, these noblewomen tended to use their positions in the Chantry to assist their families in the constant power struggles between Orlesian noble houses.

And once that precedent was set it was inevitable that the Chantry would use their power to benefit the Orlesian Empire as a whole. After all, if it was acceptable to use religious authority to empower a noble house than why not a country? Why not the monarch?

For instance, a decade ago the Divine had used the Templars in Kirkwall to depose the city’s Viscount who had been heavily taxing Orlesian shipping.

Oh, the Divine had claimed that Viscount Perrin had been removed for being a tyrant and a heretic. And while that may or may not have been true everybody knew the real reason he was deposed.

Because the Emperor asked her to.

Whatever their vows, many in the Chantry clearly saw their duty to Orlais to be greater than their duty to the Maker.

And so, when the peasantry of Orlais were oppressed by the nobility, which was often, the Chantry did nothing. How could it be otherwise when the Chantry and Orlais were almost one and the same?

Free from consequences, both the nobility and Chantry wallowed in corruption for centuries and believed that it would last forever.

But nothing lasts forever.

Several months ago, a series of peasant revolts had broken out in the eastern regions of Orlais. And while peasant revolts were not that uncommon in Orlais these ones were very unusual.

Usually, these uprisings would be bloody but brief, with the Chevaliers putting down any insurrection brutally and most of the rebels dispersing after the initial bloodbath.

But not this time.

Even though the Chevaliers and the Orlesian Army had been ruthless in putting down the rebellion, now their brutality only seemed to encourage the rebels to further resistance. In the rare instances where the rebels stood and fought instead of resorting to guerilla warfare, they fought with a fanaticism and a sense of discipline that should have been beyond them.

Confronted by the failure of their usual tactics to restore order, the Orlesian authorities responded by doubling down on atrocity. Where normally they might just hang the leaders of a village supporting a rebellion, they were now wiping out whole communities just for being connected to a rebel.

Naturally enough the Chantry took an interest in this. Though the Chantry was corrupt it still contained some honest elements, some of whom sympathized with the plight of the lower classes and suggested an investigation to see if there was a possibility of negotiation with the rebels. This was also supported by foreign elements who wished to see the Orlesians cut down to size.

Regardless of the reason, the Chantry had sent a team to investigate these rebels who called themselves the Sabbat.

What they found was far worse than the Orlesian aristocracy.

Much like the nobility, they made no distinction between soldier and civilian. For them, anyone supporting or connected to the Orlesian government was fair game. They commonly resorted to things such as assassinations, poisoning water sources and food stocks, and other scorched earth tactics.

This in of itself was disappointing but not surprising. While such brutal tactics were to be condemned, they were not particularly unusual in rebellions. And although the Imperial nobility whined about such “dishonorable tactics”, few sympathized considering that they themselves were happy to use the same methods when convenient.

Though some did express concern how well these rebels carried out these operations. The level of coordination and competence of some of these rebels almost suggested that they were an actual army rather than a peasant rabble.

Still, this didn’t worry the Chantry too much. The moderates in the clergy felt that they could offer the rebels limited reforms to stand down and that the nobility would accept it so long as a few of the rebel ringleaders were hanged.

While no one would be happy with the compromise, the livelihoods of the peasants would get a little better and the nobility would still be in control. Life would go back to normal.

These optimistic thoughts vanished when more reports started to come in.

The rebels had abandoned the worship of the Maker and adopted a new religion.

This alone was enough reason for the Chantry to sanction a violent purge of the Dales, but somehow this wasn’t even close to the worst news from the area.

From what the Chantry’s investigators had discovered the rebels seemed to be led by a group of some sort of undead. Apparently these undead, who referred to themselves as Cainites, subsisted off of human blood, could convert captured humans into more Cainites, and had their own supernatural powers.

Powers which were unaffected by the abilities of a Templar.

That bit of information had the Casandra’s superiors in the Seekers of Truth reeling. And honestly, she wasn’t handling it well herself.

The powers that Templars wielded had always been the Chantry’s greatest weapon against malificar and abominations. If those could no longer be relied upon then how long would it be until the mages smelled weakness and rebelled?

The mere fear of that was already empowering anti-mage extremists among the Templars and Seekers. Some voices suggested that if magic could not be controlled than all mages should just be made tranquil.

They called it the “Final solution to the mage problem.”

While normally such ideas would be swiftly suppressed, terror was opening doors that would otherwise be closed.

Never mind that there was no proof that human mages could understand, much less use the abilities that Cainites wielded, the mere possibility that they someday might do so was terrifying.

In light of her investigator’s discovery, the Divine Beatrix III had decreed that the Sabbat were enemies of the faith and were to be destroyed as quickly as possible. She also sent out a few messages to Orlesian nobles stating that the Chantry was willing to ignore any atrocity in service of putting down the rebellion.

The Seekers of Truth estimated that the rebellion could last for years before it was put down, and that after it was the Orlesian nobility would use the aftermath to increase their control over the peasantry. And that wasn’t even considering the Blight that brewing in southern Ferelden.

There seemed to be no end in sight to the carnage.

At least until the Chantry’s agents in the Dales sent back a very interesting report. The report said that these Cainite creatures had a leader, an original monster that had spawned this whole infestation and had masterminded the rebellion. It also seemed that ordered all of its closest lieutenants to attend a meeting to discuss their future plans.

This was an opportunity to destroy the rebellion before it could spiral further out of control.

With this information, it was decided by the leaders in the Seekers of Truth to put together an elite team to wipe out the rebellion at its source. Ideas of sending in larger forces were discussed but shot down due to the likelihood of the rebels noticing the attacking force and fleeing.

As the Right Hand of the Divine, Cassandra was a natural pick to join this team.

With most of their leaders’ dead, it was hoped that the Sabbat rebellion would collapse, and the peasants could be returned to the Chant of Light.

Even though Cassandra knew that this was the right course of action, she couldn’t help but feel conflicted by her assignment.

The rebels had abandoned their Maker and sworn themselves to unholy monsters and therefore had to be defeated, she was certain in this. But it still felt wrong to help prop up the corrupt nobles and priests who had driven them to such desperation that they would prefer to be ruled by blood drinking abominations than by their own lords.

But conflicted or not, Cassandra Pentaghast would do her duty. Even when it felt wrong.

All she could do now was put her trust in the Maker.

____________________________________________

Somewhere deep in the Emerald Graves, about a dozen relatively young Cainites sat at a table waiting for their leader to start their meeting.

Said leader was currently cutting the throat of a peasant who was struggling in his grip. As his knife slid across the peasant’s neck the blood that flowed from that man’s arteries seemed to turn to an oily smoke as it hit the floor. The smoke then flowed towards a nearby wall, where it joined the smoke taken from the lifeblood of four previous peasants in a large pool of darkness that was stretched across the wall.

“Archbishop Dawson?” One of the men nervously asked. “Could you inform us of the reason for,” he gestured at the pool of darkness, “that?”

“We have had a security leak.” Arthur Dawson answered. “These humans gave information on our movements to the Chantry and therefore had to die. Though perhaps that was for the best. I needed to sacrifice several lives anyway and it is better that those killed should actually deserve death. While innocents sometimes must suffer for the greater good, it should be avoided if at all possible.

“As for purpose of this ritual, that shall be clear shortly. For now, let us proceed with the meeting. Bishop Rainier will begin with his report on Ferelden.”

“Yes, your lordship.” Bishop Thom Rainier said. “While we had hoped that Loghain might have been able to rally against the darkspawn his army after the defeat at Ostagar, it appears that his bannerman have risen in revolt rather than except his authority. And considering that Loghain has sent most of his troops not fighting the nobles to the Orlesian border rather than fight the darkspawn, I believe that Ferelden will be unable to contain the blight.”

“How long to you believe it will take before the darkspawn attack Orlais?” Dawson asked.

“I’d estimate eight months to a year before raiding parties start crossing the border and then another year before a full-scale invasion.”

“Bishop Auguste, I put you in charge of tracking the Orlesian army.” Dawson said. “Do you think they can hold back the darkspawn?”

“Normally yes, but our insurgency throws that into doubt.” Auguste said. “The Orlesian army has withdrawn a large portion of their forces from the Ferelden border to Halamshiral to meet up with Chantry forces in an effort to crush us. If we are still holding on by the time the darkspawn arrive, it is likely that Orlais will be overrun.”

“I take it you have a suggestion to avoid this?” Dawson said.

“Yes, my lord. Even if we can defeat the forces that the Empress is marshalling against us, which is unlikely, we would almost certainly be destroyed by the darkspawn. But there is another way.”

Auguste and Rainier exchanged glances for a moment before Auguste continued. “Some of us have discussed this issue and decided that it might be best to make a strategic retreat.

“We can’t defeat either the Empire or the darkspawn alone with our current forces. So, we should instead let them weaken each other before moving to crush both.

“What we propose is that we leave a rear guard in the Dales to let the Chantry think they’ve destroyed us while we evacuate our most important assets to the Western Approach and the Arbor Wilds. The moment that the Archdemon is dead we should strike.”

Bishop Rainier stepped forward. “The Orlesian army will probably have to fight their way into Ferelden to draw the Archdemon out so once it is dead their remaining forces will be completely out of position. With most of the military out of the country we will be able to take over large parts of the nation before they can return.”

Arthur Dawson narrowed his eyes. “An interesting proposal.” He said softly. “Of course, this rear guard you propose will all be wiped out. Do you have any suggestions for who should lead it?”

“As we have devised the plan, I and Bishop Auguste volunteer to lead the rear guard.” Rainier said.

“Before I continue, let me state that I am not angry with you.” Dawson replied. “Based on the information that you currently have your plan is the most sensible course of action. Indeed, when I first arranged this meeting, it was to propose a similar idea to what you have come up with.”

“Does this mean the situation has changed somehow?” asked another of the Cainites.

“Indeed, Bishop Fortin, for in the last few nights, I have been dreaming.”

The gathered men looked at each other a moment before one spoke up. “Forgive me my lord, but you have told us that our kind cannot dream. Are we missing something?”

“Yes. For you see, while normally while dreaming is beyond us the oldest and most powerful of Caine’s descendants can surpass the normal laws of our species, such as our inability to dream. Some even have the ability speak with others in their sleep.

“While there are few left in these nights who could perform such a feat, and even fewer who I would actually wish to speak to, I have recently had the unexpected pleasure of being contacted in this way by one of the most powerful and most noble of our kind. The man who more than any other could be called the founder of the Sabbat.”

Arthur waved his hand at the pool of shadow on the wall. “He has shown me how I can assist his efforts to use the Abyss as a bridge between the worlds. All he needed was someone on this side to open the way for him. And I have.”

The shadows rippled as a man walked out of it. He was a rather short man with a neatly trimmed beard and a very expensive suit. As he entered Thedas the man graced the room with a winning smile.

Arthur gave a deep bow. “Archbishop Gratiano de Veronese, it is an honor and a privilege to host you in my domain. I am thankful that you somehow noticed this world and moved to intervene.”

“Luck had little to do with it.” Gratiano replied. “And I have not come alone.”

The pool of shadows rippled again and out stepped another man who Dawson recognized. It was Charles Delmare, Priscus of the Sabbat, and leader of the Ultra-conservative faction. He was closely followed by six bodyguards with assault rifles and full combat armor.

“Priscus Delmare.” Dawson nodded at Delmare. “I was not aware that you would be here.”

“This is new to me too.” He answered. “But when de Veronese contacted me, I could hardly ignore what he had to say.”

“What did he have to say?”

Charles sighed. “That we would soon have access to another plain of existence, filled with primitive humans. And that Regent Galbraith is an infernalist.”

Dawson’s eyes widened. “Melinda Galbraith is an infernalist?” he exclaimed. Turning to de Veronese he asked, “Are you sure this is true?”

“Completely.”

“Then she must be overthrown.” Dawson said. “I knew that she was corrupt and loathsome, but this cannot be tolerated.”

“Gratiano and I agree.” Delmare said while going over Dawson with a critical eye. “We also agree that I should succeed her as Regent. There is no other possible successor with the will and the power to bring the Sabbat to glory and expunge Galbraith and her heresy.”

Dawson simply nodded in assent.

“I’m glad you see it that way.” Delmare said. “But if we are going to bring down Galbraith and still keep the Sabbat intact then we are going to need more soldiers, resources, and extreme secrecy. All of which this place can provide. Now, what will we need to do to bring this land under control?”

“First of all, I believe that the local forces have a small band of elite operatives in the area sent to eliminate me and my commanders. Several of my patrols have gone missing recently. If you could lend me a few subordinates skilled in domination than I might be able to bring them in alive and see what they know.”

Delmare gestured for two of his men to step forward.

“Very good.” Said Dawson. “Bishop Auguste.” He said to the Orlesian Cainite who was looking rather confused be recent events. “Take these two, put together a team, and bring down the Chantry’s dogs. They should be able to subdue them alive but if something goes wrong then don’t hesitate to kill.”

“Yes, my lord.” Auguste saluted and left the room.

“Anyway, if we want to conquer this place then we are going to need an enormous amount of equipment and expertise.” Dawson said. “Guns, training instructors, other equipment . . . and we have to keep it quiet from Galbraith and her cronies. That might even make it worth it to try and manufacture equipment locally. In which case we will need to bring in mortal technical experts and industrial machines.

“This will be unlike anything the Sabbat has ever done before. This will be the conquest of an entire nation inhabited by millions of subjects. Still, with our technological advantage and support from sympathetic locals, I believe we can accomplish this feat in ten to twenty years.”

“I disagree.” Gratiano spoke.

“My lord?” Dawson asked questioningly.

“I have gazed upon this world, and I have seen that the Empire of Orlais gathers their forces at Halamshiral to crush your rebellion. Not just the army, but her court, the vast majority of the high nobility, Chantry sisters, and even senior enchanters from the circles of Magi. The entire support structure of Orlais is in that city.

“I propose that we attack Halamshiral and destroy everyone inside. Without leadership the Empire will crumble overnight, and we can rule over all of its remains within two years.”

Dawson frowned. “Forgive me, but we don’t have the forces to do that at the moment.” He said. “Even with support from Earth there are simply too many locals opposing us right now. It will take years to build up our power to the point where we can conduct an operation on that scale.”

Gratiano smiled. “You lack the power. I do not. I devoured the soul of our clan founder and I have had over five centuries to learn his secrets. It is about time that I put them to use.”

Arthur’s eyes widened momentarily before he managed to compose himself. “Very well, in that case what do you require of us?”

Gratiano de Veronese smiled even wider. “For now? Just sit back and watch.”