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Out of the fog a warrior was born

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9:41 Dragon -Haven-

Varric had seen a lot of crazy shit in his life, living in Kirkwall it was expected to see crazy shit, especially being friends with Hawke. He had met his share of intimidating elves who had certain very distinct looks who made very blooded entrances into his life. But this one, this elf took all the awards of strange people he had met, not only because his hand was crackling green like the sky. 

Him and Chuckles along with some of the agents from Haven had been ass deep in demons, almost literary the goo were actually starting to cover the ground under them. It was just on this side of painfully exhausting. To be perfectly honest, they weren't winning any ground here either. With the rift open, spewing out more and more demons with no end, there was just so much they could do about it all.

Varric was running low on bolts for Bianca and Chuckles seemed to be running low of his mana, glass bottles already scattered around the mage telling that he had already been chugging down lyrium potions to stay up. He had lost time on how long they had been at it, fighting these damn demons and no change. 

Then Cassandra had joined them, bringing an elf. Jet black dreadlocks and braids and a flurry of knives was all Varric had time to see before the elf was all around them. The elf never seemed to be at one solid place, instead constantly seemed to be at all the places, fighting all of the demons around at once. But at the same time that he seemed to be everywhere he also never seemed to actually be anywhere.

At first Varric had at first tried to aim to keep from shooting anywhere the elf might be but the elf was simply impossible to locate, moving too fast and in between all the demons at once. He cursed and just shot off an arrow hoping for the best. It hit the intended target, elf uninjured by it and Varric took that as a sign that he'd be able to shoot freely. 

The last demon, a shade was cut down by the elf, daggers cutting through demon flesh, a last screech and the elf was painted black. Not that he wasn't already black by demon gore, it was a rather gruesome sight to be honest, but again it was demons. They had it coming. 

Chuckles grabbed onto the demon gore covered elf and raised that left crackling hand up against the pulsing rift that was cutting through the sky. Green wines lashed out between the elf's hand and the rift then with a loud sound of an explosion the rift imploded on itself and shut, hopefully forever, or at least long enough for Varric to retire or you know die of old age.

Varric assumed that greetings would be in order now that the fight was done, the rift closed and the injured being dragged back by their comrades. But the elf just stood staring at the marked hand then cocked a prefect black eyebrow in question for Solas. But there was no words. Come to think of it, Varric was quite certain the elf hadn't even opened his mouth during the entirety of the fight.  

"We think that... this elf is a mute." 

There was that pause in the middle pulling attention to the fact that she had said the elf and not him or her. Usually Varric was good at reading people, guessing age, profession, where they were from and especially gender. His eyes trailed down but the pants revealed nothing either. The only thing he could say about this elf was that well, it was an elf with dark skin, so most likely that he, she came from somewhere north.

He could tell that if he ever wrote this elf into a book, he would use the description 'tribal beauty wrapped in a mystery'. There were no real curves to speak of, not that that meant anything when it came to elves, many elves were very flat even if they were women. The elf's face was sharp, all high cheekbones, a fitting jaw and pointed ears.

A tattoo ran from somewhere under those black dreads, up across his face, over his cheekbones, under the eye and over the nose, two strokes of the same pale black square lines beneath the one running across his face, three more on his chin. There was no other decorations to the tattoos, they were straight, no kinks and must have taken a long time to do. All lines were straight telling of how the elf had not squirmed around in the process.

What was most striking about the whole elf were those bright yellow eyes, defined by those black perfect eyebrows. What was it with elves and having perfect eyebrows?

Varric might just have to write a book about this elf. If he could only manage to wring out some more information of him other than dark skinned beauty. The only thing cloth wise fitting on the elf was the tight leather breeches he wore that seemed to be costume made for him, the rest of his clothes were clearly a rather poor excuse of a mercenary armor, or rather a green jacket that had no right calling itself an armor.

"Whatever magic caused that mark in your hand also caused the breach. I theorized the mark would also be able to close the rifts that have opened in the breach's wake. It seems I was correct."

"Meaning it could also close the breach itself." 

"Possibly, it seems you hold the key to our salvation." 

Still silence, the elf had adopted a perfectly emotionless mask as he looked at them all. He did feel a bit uneasy over how impossible it was to read the elf. Varric liked to have information about people, preferably before he met them even. He'd have to send some letters to his contacts up north asking, maybe they knew about the tattoos.

"Good to know, here I thought we'd be ass deep in demons forever. Varric Tethras, rouge, story teller, occasionally unwelcome tag along." He greeted the elf.

Right, there were those yellow eyes aimed at him. He didn't know why he had the uncanny feeling that he was being watched and judged by a high dragon trying to figure if he was worth being dinner or now. But Varric was used to a lyrium infused elf glowering at people and reaching his hands into people's chests. This elf couldn't be much worse than that, and he had befriended Fenris quite fine. Of course, with Fenris it had been the elf asking Hawke for a favor, here it was them asking the elf to close a breach and potentially commit suicide in the process. 

The elf looked at him for a while longer before slowly holding his hand up making a small gesture with it. A gesture he knew because one of the carta dwarves in Kirkwall he had made business with once, had got his tongue cut out and only spoke sign language. The sign that this elf did, was a greeting. 

"Ah! There we go! Practically friends." He said and chuckled lightly.

"Wait! He can... Tell us what happened!" Cassandra demanded and the elf just looked at her emotionless again, the only sign that was made was the agitated flicker of pointed ears, Fenris did that one a lot around Anders or Merrill. 

"We do not have time for this, we should head for the breach or I fear his mark will grow worse." Solas pointed out. 

That, the elf did listen to and simply turned on the spot and began the hike towards the breach.