The Warrior Goddess(Anders)

[Jeannette Martel]

"This is what we've come down to? They're hiring little girls for us?" The officer grunted, shooting a wad of spit onto the ground. The young cadet frowned at his officer, before letting out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, sir. I guess that's all they could find in time to send us.." The boy smiled sheepishly. "But.. at least we'll have good company, right?" The officer let out an exasperated breath, rubbing his cleanly shaven chin. "We are war, soldier. Good company won't kill the prissy little queens trying to invade us! The bitch is late, even. We have no idea when they could skirmish us! A tiny camp like this *needs* reinforcements. Even if it's just some little bitch. Maker, I swear if she's a little brat I will cut her tongue out and leave her for the Orlesians as fodder." Suddenly, the young soldiers face lit up, his eyes widened. "Uh, sir?" The soldier stammered, a frown spreading. "What is it now-"

The officer turned around and was shocked at what he found. Sitting atop a white steed was what could only be described as a tenebrous warrior goddess. Shining silver armor graced the beautiful warrior's tender yet powerful body. Long, dark mahogany hair glistened in the moon, tied back into an intricate ponytail. Her somber features held a grim beauty that told of countless sorrows and tales of darkness penetrating light. Her expression was nearly blank save a small frown curling at the edge of her red lips.

"I - I guess you must be her then?" The officer frowned. He certainly had not pictured the girl to appear in such a manner. Hell, he was expecting a dumb bimbo that thought she could fight, yet this girl had a certain ferocity in her stance. The warrior woman offered him a quick nod before sliding off the stallion. A young attendant quickly grabbed the reins, leading the horse to the stables. The officer ran a hand through his bald head uncomfortably. The woman's presence was unnerving and awkward. The beauty had not spoken two words since she arrived. All she did was stare at him expectantly. "Well.. what is your name, again?"

The warrior princess opened her mouth to speak when they heard a slight rustling. The beauty quickly pulled out her sword, steeling herself for battle. She was prepared, that was for sure. Everyone was scanning, searching for the perpetrator. That was when they attacked. Arrows soared through the air, slamming into unsuspecting soldiers left and right. "Ambush!" cried the young cadet before an arrow slammed into his screaming throat. "Calm yourselves and prepare your defense!" The warrior goddess commanded, her shield at the ready. After the last of the arrows slammed into bodies or shields, the Orlesians appears. They charged at the surviving members of the camp, their weapons swinging fiercely.

The warrior woman slammed her shield into one of their bodies before slamming her equally beautiful sword into their throat. She yanked it out and immediately twirled into another soldier, slicing them across the chest. The well-made blade cut through the low-quality armor with ease, ending his life. A third soldier came charging at her and she slammed her metallic foot in his groin, making the man stumble back and hunch over. The warrior princess swung her leg up into a bicycle kick, sending the man's helmet flying and his body reeling. She quickly followed up her kick, jabbing her sword into his face. Scanning the battleground, she frowned. The Nevarrans were definitely thrown off by the attack and were being dropped like flies. Thankfully, there were few enough Orlesians that she could finish the job herself.

A rogue charged at her, swinging his blades methodically. She twirled to the side to avoid him before slamming her metalline boot into his rear. As he shambled to his feet, she grabbed his neck and slammed him onto his bottom with a snapmare, before slicing her sword through his torso. She swung around, pressing her sword against a man coming up from behind her. It was the officer from before. "It's me! Calm down! I - I! What is your name? Who are you?" She pulled her sword away from his throat, turning around to see the last few Orlesians surrounding her and the officer. They were the only survivors of the ambush.

The goddess readied her weapon and shield, looking at the last remaining warriors. "My name... is Jeannette."

[Anders]

Nevarra. He had never been here before. The stories told about this country didn't do it any justice either, but wasn't that how it always was? And he has plenty of time to admire the scenery as he stuck to the wilds, unlike the Free Marches. The cities in Nevarra weren't like the ones in Free Marches. The capital was like a Templar heaven. The same reasons why he left Kirkwall as soon as possible and it was no doubt that people in Nevarra would recognize him.

He loved the country, nonetheless. It was beautiful when you looked passed all the war, bloodshed, and suppression. He got used to it Ferelden, but that country wasn't as bad, before at least. He got used to his life on the run there, despite the many times he escaped and was drug back to the circle.

Now there was no Circle. His successful act of war 3 years ago earned that right to the mages. And he happened across a lot of people who thanked him for it.

So far, he his venture in Nevarra remained uneventful. By now he expected to at least run into a Dalish clan, but he hadn't seen one. In a way it was a bit unnerving. Which was why he flinched when he heard sudden voices off in the distance. Anders worked through the web of trees, until he approached an open area of land which, lo and behold, held a camp of men. He could barely hear their words from the distance he was at, but he was able to make-out a few such as a few curses, which revealed that they were speaking of a certain woman they were supposed to meet. Interesting, what were these men planning on doing? And this meeting, was it political? Most likely, considering the country's current situation. The men definitely looked Nevarran enough, and they looked like men of war on top of that.

At least they weren't Templars, but that didn't mean they wouldn't be quick to do a Templar's job and turn him in. It was best to stay back into the safety of his trees where they couldn't spot him. That was until a white horse appeared in the far distance, heading into the direction of the group of men. It wasn't until it got closer that he realized the person riding the horse was a woman. Long dark hair, slim, fit body. She had a look of wicked grace about her. Beautiful and serene, yet fierce and strong. She definitely take on the appearance of the woman the men were talking about before. She was a woman who knew herself, her skill, her abilities. Not some Orlesian wallflower who ordered the security of others. She reminded him of Hawke, that woman's beautiful yet deadly appearance and demeanor.

This must have been the woman they were waiting for, because when she finally caught their eye, the look of shock on their faces was priceless. He was only thankful they weren't close enough to hear his snorts of laughter.

He wasn't even sure what exactly happened next. There didn't seem to be much conversation between the brunette goddess and the Nevarrans, but within mere seconds arrows soared through the air and the woman prepared for battle. "She must have really pissed them off," Anders thought to himself as he watched the battle commence, though in confusion as to who these new ones were. It was actually a relief to witness one without him actually being involved. He couldn't remember the last time he witnessed a battle he wasn't a part of... or started.

A part of him wanted to step forward and help her, but there were much more reasons why he held himself back. One, she seemed to already be doing a fairly good job at whooping their arses, and two, well, he was a mage. Simply said. He wasn't about to reveal his special talent. Plus, who knew what would happen with Justice, and he wasn't ready to find out.

When the battle was over, however, only a few left standing: the intriguing woman with a couple remaining Orlesian survivors and the Nevarran from before, one he believe much have been in charge of the ambushed camp. She was going to let them live? He wanted to get closer to hear their conversation, but the trees next to him were his only hiding place. Whatever the topic was, he didn't suppose it was about sitting down for a relaxing cup of tea and cookies.

Anders decided to leave the safety of the wilds, however, and make a break for the group. Despite it being a stand-off, the Orlesians were the ones who attacked, afterall, and the ones remaining looked as if they were ready to soil their armor. Good, it just made for easier targets. The man from before, whom he thought was in charge of the ambushed camp, seemed to be the pretty lass with the sword and shield. It would be a bad idea to go after him.

Anders ran forward, taking out the cane-like staff from his robes and pointed it at the survivors surrounding the lady. Within a blink of an eye, bursts of flame erupted from the staff and shot out to the targets, engulfing them in fire. Their screams echoed through the open air until they fell to the ground in lumps of burnt flesh. There was one who only got the remaining flames for a few seconds, but Anders didn't hesitate. Mists of cold air emanated from the staff and froze the man in his place before falling to the ground with the rest of his men

When his work his done, he put his staff away and turned to the other two with a sly smile on his face. "Ah, that felt good... Been wanting to do that for a while."

[Jeannette Martel]

Jeannette steeled herself for the ensuing battle. The odds were clearly against the two, but she had proved herself quite skilled. If they stuck to themselves, the warrior princess would have no trouble knocking them off. She clenched her blade tight in her delicate hand. The men were intimidated by the beautiful lady-in-armor. Good. Jeannette could use that to her advantage. A minuscule slab of sweat tumbled down her brow. The warrior took a quick glance to the officer, who was barely holding his sword as he tried to keep a small wet spot on his pants covered in vain. "Prepare yourself. I am not going to be the lone survivor of a camp I don't even give a care about." She gave the officer a piercing icy glare almost as potent as a dagger lathered in poison, causing him to let out a quiet gasp of frustration. Jeannette rolled her eyes and twirled herself. It was time. At least, she thought it had been. Out of no where, a man had burst into her vision. Flames spewed from his staff and he engulfed the soldiers in a fiery blaze. The men scrambled around, squealing like pigs as their flesh melted into butter. Jeannette's pretty little eyes narrowed as she moved back away from the flames. She kept her sword and shield close in a defensive stance. A straggler that survived the flaming assault was quickly embraced by ice before collapsing alongside her allies.

The blitz had certainly wiped out the Orlesians, but for what purpose had their savior acted on their behalf? A mage nonetheless. Jeannette frowned at the thought of a mage saving her, a male at that. A look of distaste saturated her face as she shook her head in disgust. Jeannette had not had many experiences with mages. The one occasion that stood out the most, however, had certainly scarred her. The warrior goddess would not - perhaps could not - invest any trust in a mage. They were the lowest scum Jeannette could think of. Thus, she kept up her steel guard. She quietly assessed the corpses of their ambushers. Surrounding the group that were now charred lumps of flesh were the corpses of the men she had killed and the corpses of her 'comrades'. The ones Jeannette had killed were clean, smooth, beautiful. Grace had been used to execute her enemies. The mage had fouled the battle and engulfed them all in flame, leaving them mere ash and burnt flesh in a grotesque pile. Of course. That is all mages were good for, anyway. Destruction and death was rampant wherever their dark souls treaded. Their deaths were not honorable. Instead of dying in one on one combat, they had been swept through by flaming tidal waves. Her grip on her blade tightened. For all she knew, the mage would turn his depraved powers on her. Jeannette wouldn't allow herself to be the victim to another mage.

"Who are you? Why did you help us?" She interrogated. That smug smile that spread across his face after he had swept through the camp. Oh, what she would do to cut his lips off and to keep them as a trophy. The rage she felt towards the mage - all mages- was due to a man from her past that had shattered her life. The other mages were therefore guilty by association. If one man could do that to her, she could only think about how many more of them could be just as dangerous as the man that had scarred her... or perhaps even worse.

"Th-thank you so much! You have saved us! By the Maker!" The officer fell to his knees behind her, letting out a gasp of shock, as if he had just now realized that the Orlesians had been put at bay. She swung her sword back in a swift gesture towards the officer in an attempt to silence him. All Jeannette could gather was that this man was grossly new to warfare. How had gotten the position of officer she had no idea. Still, the warrior princess had her lovely albeit degenerated focus stuck on the mage.

"Answer carefully," was all the warrior goddess could mutter before she once again prepared herself for a showdown.

[Anders]

He couldn't mistake the expression the lovely brunette's face when his presence was known. In reality he expected nothing less. Mages weren't exactly the most popular these days, and it was not surprise that this woman didn't take a shine to them. He was used to it anyways. If they weren't whores looking for money, they were scowling at him from miles away.

But her companion seemed to be more than happy for his intervention. Which also wasn't surprising. He was starting to see a pattern here. It was mostly women who made their displeasure towards him known, but it was men who acted frightened towards him or showed their gratitude for him as if they couldn't have done it on their own. And, maybe they can't. But did it seem as if women were more brave towards him then men?

He remembered hearing once when he was younger, "Anger is the greatest sign of fear. Turning your back to the threat is the greatest sign of bravery." This rang true. People will fight in anger when they're scared. They're too afraid to just walk away, to turn their back. It's only when you turn your back that you show bravery.

But, he wasn't about to assume this woman was scared either. It's only when you let your guard down that you can be hurt the most.

"My name is... John, dear lady," he said wittingly with the same sly smirk on his face. Anders wouldn't dare tell her his "real" name. If she did know who Anders, the criminal mage who blew up the Chantry, was, she'd probably try to kill him right there, as well as this other guy.

"Well, I saw a group of men about to tear you and your friend here to shreds. I don't doubt your abilities, but after seeing the..." he turned to the Captain, "But after seeing how fast your friends went down, I couldn't bother to not help!"