#the creature slaughter one was rly hard too

[mechromancergaige]

Ughh the slaughterstar 3000 is so fucking haaaard. I've only managed to get up to the second round and theres so many heavy enemies it's ridiculous

[itsthesinbin]

My Only Desire Is To Kick Your Ass (Chapter 3)

hey i actually stuck with an upload schedule for once

here’s chapter three- nothing rly happens beyond some backstory for wysira and scouting the hinterlands.

Read the fic on Ao3!

The Hinterlands were much warmer- although, it seems this place is just naturally cold. It made Wysira miss the desert that housed her home kingdom. She missed walking into the underground city, shaking sand off of her feet and onto whatever guard was posted at the gates. She never thought she’d truly feel homesick, until now.

“Something wrong, Violet,” Varric asked. It took Wysira a moment to realize he was talking to her. She glanced over at him from atop her horse. She was already feeling the saddle sores developing.

“Violet? Why that name,” she smiled, already knowing the answer. Varric snorted, motioning to her body vaguely.  Of course he’d pick violet. What a dumb nickname.

He really did remind her of Requa.

“Anyway… I was just… thinking of home. It is… much different than it is here”. Varric asked if she wanted to talk about it. Cassandra and Solas perked up a bit. They were all curious about her home, as she kept insisting she came from another world. Cassandra still believed her a creature of the Fade. Solas has tried to explain that she isn’t.

“... My home is a kingdom in the desert. It’s hidden underground, as the original city was razed to the ground centuries ago. Nothing more than rubble on the surface, but magic and hard work has made a flourishing cavern underneath it. It was beautiful, before the war”. “You speak of it as if you lived there,” Solas prodded. Wysira nodded, a heavy sigh leaving her body.

“I did. I was only eighty when the war began. I was a hundred and thirty when the main city went down- but by then, we were already underground”. Everyone was quiet, before Cassandra tentatively asked the question that she heard, eventually, from otherworlders. How old are you?

“I am seven hundred and eighty years old, human. Omnibi can live to be a thousand- royal Omnibi can live to be five thousand”. She heard a quiet “what the fuck” from Varric, making her chuckle.

“You said a war destroyed your city,” Solas said, cautiously, after a moment. “What was the purpose of this war?” Any humor left Wysira’s face, and her ears pinned back against her head.

“... Humans did not take kindly to us, as we would kill when we had to feed. That was… before we had to teach ourselves to drain in portions- which is why we need to eat so often,” she growled. “Humans, of the time, were also very entitled and self-centered, believing anything non-human was inferior”. Solas let out a slow exhale through his nose. He was familiar with the concept.

“You carry yourself as a soldier,” Cassandra mentioned, thinking back to their fight with Pride, and how she took charge when everyone argued with Roderick. “What was your role?”

“By the end of the Demon Wars, I was the lead Arcanist and Battlemage in the Queen’s army. I was among the highest ranking soldiers in the military, and created the Battlemage faction for future militaries. If it weren’t for me, arcanists and mages would still be in the backlines, no matter how good their combat was,” she laughed, a bitter tone to the noise. She let out another sigh.

“I was a child, forced to wield a staff- then a sword- because humans were too afraid to talk to us. Sure, what we did wasn’t great… we did kill people to feed… but we would’ve found out what we could’ve done to change it if they had just talked to us”. She gripped the reins of her horse tighter. She sucked in a breath, letting it out quickly. She shook her head.

“That’s enough. We should be near your camp, soon,” she mumbled, before anyone could say anything. She sped off, making the others rush off after her. They were far enough back that they could talk without her hearing.

“Do either of you really believe that story,” Varric asked, glancing over at the human and elf nearby. Cassandra grunted, saying she doesn’t. Solas suppressed an eye-roll.

“I… believe that she believes it,” he said. “I do not know if she truly is a Desire Demon, or if she is what she calls herself. I can tell she is not lying, though. She truly believes what she says”. Cassandra mumbled something the men couldn’t hear, before racing off after their Herald again.

After a brief chat with Scout Harding, the four left their horses at the camp and made their way- on foot- to the Crossroads. Wysira fiddled with the hilt of her sword, preemptively pulling her shield off of her back. The materials and shape of the weapons, and armor, were odd, and seemed much too weak to withstand an actual fight. Who uses gold to create anything for combat?

“You don’t intend to fight with those, do you,” Cassandra asked, a slight condescending tone to her voice. Wysira laughed, adjusting her grip on the shield.

“You don’t intend to make me use those brittle staves and sit around in robes, do you,” Wysira responded in a similar tone. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing Cassandra staring at her with a bit of contempt.

“I didn’t hone my magic and combat- learn to create these weapons and armor sets- only to be stuck in the backlines, soldier. If you’re worried about my weapons breaking, don’t. My magic will keep them in shape”. Cassandra highly doubted that.

The Crossroads were… a horrible mess. Templars and Mages not only fought each other, but anyone who got in their way. Men, women, and children were being slaughtered, if they got caught in the crossfire. A deep, animalistic growl left the Herald’s throat, startling her teammates. Cassandra and Solas felt… some kind of force come from her. It felt like magic but… nothing they’ve ever come into contact with. Wysira closed the visor of her helmet, charging into the fight with a war cry. The trio followed closely, Cassandra telling the Inquisition soldiers to back them up.

True to Wysira’s word, whatever magic she uses keeps her armor from bending- keeps her weapons from breaking under the strain of a Templar’s blade. Cassandra was surprised, and disturbed, when she ran a mage through and electrocuted the man from the inside with it.

“Is your magic always this barbaric?” “Do you always critique people during battles?” The women glared at each other from across the field, before a blast of fire knocked a Templar away from Cassandra.

“Eyes on the fight, Seeker. We can talk about my magic later,” she yelled, ducking to block a child from getting an arrow to the chest. She ushered the little one into a safe spot, stationing a soldier nearby until they can escape the fight safely.

“You are quite proficient at elemental magic, Solas,” Wysira mentioned, after the fight had finally ended. She took her helmet off, knocking it against her horns slightly. “How long did it take you to learn it?” He looked at her, confusion crossing his face.

“An odd question- it takes as long as it would to learn any other spell. Why?” “... Where I’m from, elemental magic is very hard to master- if you are not born an Elemental, it could take an entire lifetime for certain people to learn one element,” Wysira explained. Cassandra stepped in, before they got into another talk about magic.

“Mother Giselle needs to be spoken to, Herald- then we need to find Dennet”. Wysira gave her a small glare, silently telling her how rude she is, before sheathing her sword and clipping her helmet to her belt.

“Fine, fine. We’ll talk another time, Solas,” she hummed, walking off towards the camp of injured soldiers. Cassandra pulled Solas aside.

“Do not entertain her, Solas”. “I do not see the harm in doing so, Seeker. She is no threat to us- or, well… to me, at least,” he said, a small smirk on his face at the end of the sentence. Cassandra glared at him.

“Besides, Seeker… if we go along with her delusions, perhaps she won’t try and possess someone, if she is capable of doing so,” he said snidely, following the Herald to Mother Giselle.

They spotted the demon speaking with Giselle privately. Cassandra tried to get closer, but a glare over Wysira’s shoulder stopped her in her tracks. Cassandra growled, leaning against a tree nearby.

“This is really bothering you, Seeker,” Varric laughed. “You could always pull rank- take control over the situation- if you really don’t want, eh… whatever she is running the show”. Cassandra crossed her arms.

“As tempting as that is, Leliana would have my head if I tried that. And I feel… she would not let the idea go so easily,” the Seeker huffed, glancing at the tall creature among the injured. Solas stepped forward.

“If it eases your mind, Seeker, I can assure you she is no Desire Demon. I have tried to find her in the Fade, and all I can find is the Mark. And Spirits have told me they have never seen anything like her. She calls herself a Demon, but she is not from the Fade”. Cassandra watched as Wysira began to approach, seeing Mother Giselle going back to tending to the injured.

“That unsettles me even more, Solas,” she said quietly, standing straight as the Herald arrived. Wysira motioned for them to follow her, saying they’re going to see Corporal Vale. After they talk to Vale, and help around the Crossroads, they’ll go to Dennet.

They spent hours hunting, foraging, and scavenging for the people of the Crossroads. Wysira was determined to help these people. Cassandra asked why she bothered- not to provoke her, just curious. She remembers Wysira mentioning that they are not her people, so the Seeker wonders why she feels the need to help them so insistently. To give the Inquisition a good name?

“I know how it feels to be driven from your home, and caught in the middle of a war… I want to help make it so these people do not have to suffer more than they already have”. At least she and Cassandra can agree on that. She doesn’t trust this demon, but she can respect her generosity and compassion.

Along the way to Dennet, they caught word of a group stationed in an old stronghold that held people who had begun worshiping the Breach. They almost weren’t let in through the gates, but Wysira insisted she go look at the rift that had opened in the back of the stronghold. The woman at the gates if she could prove she could close the rift, they’d follow her every word. Easy enough.

Until a terror demon poured out of the fucking hole in the air. Creator, Wysira hated these things. They were annoying, at most. She grabbed a hold of the demon’s skull, slamming it into the nearest rock and spearing it with her sword. It hissed at her as it writhed, making her sneer.

“Please,” she snorted, pulling her sword out of the now-dead demon. “Requa’s wardrobe terrifies me more than you do, you little pest”. She turned, moving to close the rift.

“Req-who,” Varric asked, putting Bianca away. Wysira chuckled a bit. “An Incubus whose clothing is just as loud as his mouth”. Cassandra glanced at Varric, relating to that statement more than she’d like. Varric caught the look, and put an offended hand on his chest, before winking at her and told her that she loves the way he dresses. The Seeker felt her cheeks turn a light shade of red, and she huffed as she began to walk away. Varric snickered as the four began to walk out.

The woman at the gate was in awe of what Wysira had done. She offered her people to be used however she saw fit.

“Open your gates to the refugees,” Wysira said, without hesitation. “People are overcrowding the Crossroads, and they’re dying because of it. They need help, and you have the room, and manpower, to help them”. The woman nodded, saying she’ll send scouts and escorts at once.

“That was a good decision, Violet,” Varric said, trying to keep the brisk pace the Herald had set. They were way behind schedule, and were trying to get back on time. Wysira smiled, thanking him.

“I just really hope they actually do it. I’ll make sure to send a couple soldiers to the stronghold- make sure these people keep their word,” Wysira sighed. “Anyway, let’s get going to Dennet. It shouldn’t take too much longer- and, hopefully, we can find a place to set up a new camp along the way”.

Dennet’s farmland was guarded by rabid wolves. Solas mentioned how these wolves seemed unsettled- as if the Breach was bothering them. Wysira said they’ll look into it, before they left the Hinterlands.

Dennet was an old grouch, but he was willing to help. They just needed to get rid of the bandits along the trading routes. Reasonable enough, Wysira supposed. In return for their help, along with the future horses for the Inquisition, Dennet offered a Ferelden Forder to the Herald. Said he was one of the best horses around.

“Thank you, Dennet. I’ll be back with news on the bandits,” Wysira said, heading out to go find her new horse. Her eyes widened at the sight of the creature, and she grinned.

“Oh… you are a beauty,” she purred, the actual noise resonating from her chest. She pet the beast’s nose, offering it a carrot from her pack. Nearly took a finger off trying to get it from her, making her laugh. The stable-hand nearby gave her the horse’s saddle and reins, and she hopped on once they were secure.

“We’ll take him back to our newest campsite, then get a move on,” she smiled, putting the horse in a small trot.

“What’re you going to name him,” Varric asked, curious. Wysira thought for a few minutes, staring at the horse’s mane. She thought about the centaur that assisted her in battle, all those centuries ago… A small, sad smile crossed her features.

“Nelotos… after a… friend of mine,” she finally murmured. Varric didn’t press the issue. If she wanted to tell that story, she would in time. The name was weird as hell, though.

Well… so was she.

“Most likely, we’ll be going to this “Val Royeaux” place once we get done in the Hinterlands,” Wysira said, dropping off her horse at the new camp. She looked at Cassandra, who glowered at her without thinking. Wysira smiled politely.

“Cassandra, dear, if you wouldn’t mind… would you be so kind as to fill me in on what this place is like?” Cassandra sighed as they began to walk. She let out a small chuckle, thinking of all the bullshit located in the Orlesian city.

“Where to start,” she said sarcastically, making the other three chuckle. Cassandra let out a small, huff-like laugh in return. She hopes her description can do the city justice.