Dorian sat in a corner of the Gull and Lantern in Redcliffe village, curious to see this Inquisition. He pulled a hood up around his face, obscuring himself to any onlookers , as he ate a ghastly bowl of stew with a bread trencher. His clothes were smelly and scratchy and this stew left his mouth feeling thick and foul, but food was food, and he had bigger concerns than the mildly unpleasant sensations he was having. The Mages of the Rebellion huddled together, and whispered. They looked scared, worried, and some of them looked daggers at their leader, Fiona. Alexius had done a right number here, hadn't he? Dorian thought it rather suspicious how quickly the man had arrived here to swoop in and claim these mages for the Imperium. Dorian had his suspicions, but he knew he would have to observe things, allow them to unfold a time before he could be certain. He hoped he was wrong. But he knew his master had been tampering with time. He had worked with the man on the formula, on the magic. Dorian was partly responsible for this. He had to do something to stop his mentor.
He heard the door opening. He didn't dare to turn around and look lest somebody see his face. He was very obvioulsy not from here. And if Alexius discovered his presence, the man would try to induct him into this insane cult that he had taken to. Dorian didn't much fancy being imprisoned, or ending up dead. Those were the only ways in which that scenario would end. Neither one were appealing. But he couldn't stay away. He had to risk it all. A sharp looking woman with short black hair led the small band of four. He examined her properly when she came into view. She looked dangerous. Incredibly tough. She could only be Seeker Pentaghast. A dwarf was at her heels, stocky and blonde with an impressive stock of chest hair. The fabled Varric Tethras, author, and friend to the Champion of Kirkwall. A slender woman with darker skin than his, and a very impressive Hennin. Madame de Fer. Dorian stared down at his bowl again. This Inquisitoin had some very big names attached to it. He prayed they would be enough. The final member of their little band came into view. He was very broad of shoulder, powerful looking. And tall. Especially for an elf. This elf had his impossibly long moon-kissed hair braided down his back, showing his pointed ears. He had that Dalish look of shaved head and intricate tattoos on his face and large arms. The hand that rested on the sword at his hip had the unmistakeable green spark. It was him alright. The Herald. Dorian held his breath. Things were about to get interesting. Dorian couldn't quite make out the short conversation between the Inquisition representatives and Fiona, but it seemed that Fiona was confused and unhappy. An unhappy mage was never a good sign. Dorian watched with bated breath.
Alexius never failed to make a timely entrance these days, it would seem. His timing was impeccable. Suspiciously impeccable. Felix didn't dare to look his way immediately. The Magister's son rested his eyes on the huddled figure of Dorian in the corner for only a moment, before staggering into the burly Herald, feigning illess. He was a good little actor, Dorian couldn't deny. But the boy's illness still made Dorian incredibly sad. The blight that had taken Fereldan all those years ago was still having an effect on the world. The Herald showed no sign of surprise at the small note being pressed into his hand. Maybe there truly was hope for them after all. Alexius panicked all over his son and withdrew with him at once. The man was terrified of losing the boy, even though it was inevitable. He thought perhaps that was what was spurring his research forward to new heights. The meeting had been kept blessedly brief, as they had planned. They didn't want an open conflict between Alexius with his mages and the Inquisition representatives. They didn't have the measure of the man yet. They couldn't be certain how volatile he might be. It was better to avoid the situation entirely. He continued to watch as the Inquisition people stared after the two Tevinter mages in confusion.
"... Always been a sickly boy..." Fiona explained, with Alexius' words . The Herald spoke quiet words of sympathy it seemed. He approved of that much. Perhaps he could be counted on as a compassionate, reasonable man. Dorian thought this was an appropriate time to withdraw. He had to make it to the Chantry without being noticed. After the drama of Felix's collapse, his movement wouldn't draw attention. He pulled a scarf up around his face, covering his nose and mouth, and tugged his hood down further over his face. Nobody looked twice at him. The mages that swarmed all over the town, were subdued and miserable. They'd all been duped. They wouldn't look twice at a hooded man with a mage's staff. They were all far too absorbed in their own affairs. They were all trying to come to terms with what had happened, and probably trying to formulate a plan to get away.
When he finally managed to push his way into the chantry, he felt a grim relief. It was truly awful to be in the midst of these newly oppressed people. People oppressed by a countryman of his. By his former mentor. Alexius was living up to every bad stereotype about magister from the Imperium. It made Dorian's blood boil. It was nerve=wracking being here when Alexius was here. He feared discovery at every turn. He pulled the hood from his face, tore the scarf away, and rested his head back against the doors of chantry, closing his eyes. Then he heard a ripping sound, that seemed to make his ears ring, as thought the world had exploded around him. He felt his teeth rattle with the impact, a thrum in his chest. He opened his eyes to a world bathed in green. He jumped into action, fear taking over. He grabbed for his staff and stood stock still as he observed. Tendrils of green light were spilling forth from a tear in the very fabric of existence. He watched them transfixed. He took tentative steps forward, very slowly. Too slowly. What was happening? He heard the chantry doors open again. But he had no time to see who was coming through. Hulking shapes were emerging from the tear. Now was a time to fight.
"Give me a hand with this, won't you?" he called to whoever had entered, hoping to Andraste that it was the Inquisition. Demons were pouring out of the hole in the air. He attacked them swiftly, sending them back to the fade with fire and ice. Time seemed to slow then speed up to be too fast. It was hard for his mind to keep up with what his body had to battle through. When all the demons seemed to have been pushed back into the rift, a blast of green light shot past him, connecting with the rift. It surged with energy, and Dorian could feel the hairs on his arms standing on end, his flesh prickling. He took a step back, and watched in wonder as the energy building in the rift overflowed, and seemed to explode. Dorian shielded his eyes from the blast of light, but when he looked back, the rift was gone. So it was the Inquisition.
"What a pleasant way to meet." Dorian said sarcastically as he turned around. He was met by a golden-eyed stare of the tallest elf he had ever seen. He had a stern face, and looked as though he had a short fuse. The Herlad looked less than pleased. His face was tattooed with what Dorian believed to be the markings of their god Mythal. His arms had similar markings, with ivy vines swirling through the patterning.
"Who are you? We were expecting the Magister's son, Felix." His voice was surprisingly deep. Dorian hadn't expected that. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts.
"What? No applause?" Dorian tried his most charming smile. The Herald glared at him, but he saw the corners of his mouth lift. He raised his hands and clapped three slow claps.
"Answer the question."
"He was meant to be here by now. Most like Alexius is fussing." Dorian smoothed down the creases of his robe, and smiled calmly. He hoped beyond hope that this wouldn't go awry. The Herald stepped closer to him, towering over him, and staring down at him. Dorian had never seen such a large elf. He was tall and brawnier than any other he had ever encountered. Dorian felt incredibly intimidated.
"Who are you?" the elf asked again slowly. He stared unwaveringly down at Dorian.
"My name is Dorian Pavus. I'm a mage from the Tevinter Imperium, and I want to stop Alexius." The elf nodded , and Dorian thought he could see a small smile on the lips of the Herald.
"Then it seems we can be friends Dorian Pavus. My name is Faolan Lavellan. We are the Inquisition."