It had taken a while for Fenris to become accustomed to being alone again, but after a year or so it had become normal again.
Hawke had asked if he had to leave. Yes. He'd had to. Hawke probably had no idea what a mercy that was, his leaving. Instead of sticking around to take the mage's head off. If he did not feel such loyalty and obligation to Hawke, he would have left before it was all over.
And now, he spent his time hunting down slavers, freeing slaves, mostly in the area surrounding Tevinter. And when he was feeling particularly self destructive, in Tevinter itself. And he did it mostly alone.
One disadvantage of being alone, of course, was the difficulty in taking on an entire crew of slavers by himself. Sometimes he would break the chains on the slaves first in the hopes of aid - but this time the elves cowering in the wagon were mostly children, shivering and terrified. Damn the Imperium. Damn the Magisters. Damn them all.
The fight that ensued was more challenging than he'd anticipated. At some point he took advantage of a blow knocking an opponent to the ground to knock back his last healing potion. He tended to carry as many as he could carry, as he certainly did not want to have to employ the services of a mage.
And as if to mock his realization even further, a woman wielding daggers came at him in a flurry, catching the back of one of his thighs with a blade. As he lost his balance and fell backwards he activated the lyrium markings on his skin, thinking that he could shove his fist through her if she came at him...
But she did not come. And he did not remember squeezing his eyes closed, but when he opened them, the battle was nowhere to be seen. Nor were the slaves. Nor was any of the countryside.
He managed to get to his feet, wincing. Picked up his longsword and, still looking around him for any signs of danger, wiped it on a cloth he pulled out of his pouch and slid it into the scabbard at his back. There was a building in the distance and so he started towards it, limping. It made more sense than going out into the desert, at least. So he wiped blood off of his face with one hand, and kept walking.
Fenris - Assigned Threads
Hawke had asked if he had to leave. Yes. He'd had to. Hawke probably had no idea what a mercy that was, his leaving. Instead of sticking around to take the mage's head off. If he did not feel such loyalty and obligation to Hawke, he would have left before it was all over.
And now, he spent his time hunting down slavers, freeing slaves, mostly in the area surrounding Tevinter. And when he was feeling particularly self destructive, in Tevinter itself. And he did it mostly alone.
One disadvantage of being alone, of course, was the difficulty in taking on an entire crew of slavers by himself. Sometimes he would break the chains on the slaves first in the hopes of aid - but this time the elves cowering in the wagon were mostly children, shivering and terrified. Damn the Imperium. Damn the Magisters. Damn them all.
The fight that ensued was more challenging than he'd anticipated. At some point he took advantage of a blow knocking an opponent to the ground to knock back his last healing potion. He tended to carry as many as he could carry, as he certainly did not want to have to employ the services of a mage.
And as if to mock his realization even further, a woman wielding daggers came at him in a flurry, catching the back of one of his thighs with a blade. As he lost his balance and fell backwards he activated the lyrium markings on his skin, thinking that he could shove his fist through her if she came at him...
But she did not come. And he did not remember squeezing his eyes closed, but when he opened them, the battle was nowhere to be seen. Nor were the slaves. Nor was any of the countryside.
He managed to get to his feet, wincing. Picked up his longsword and, still looking around him for any signs of danger, wiped it on a cloth he pulled out of his pouch and slid it into the scabbard at his back. There was a building in the distance and so he started towards it, limping. It made more sense than going out into the desert, at least. So he wiped blood off of his face with one hand, and kept walking.