DAI: Becoming The Inquisitor

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Because if they didn't, these people—these scared, desperate survivors—would be the first of countless casualties when the Breach finally tore the world apart.

The battle erupted in a chaos of steel and magic. Cassandra charged forward with a battle cry, her silverite sword flashing as she cleaved through the first Shade demon. The creature shrieked as it dissolved into black smoke, but two more were already lurching toward her. The Inquisition soldiers fanned out, forming a defensive line between the refugees and the rift, their shields locked together in a wall of steel.

Varric took up position on a nearby boulder, Bianca's mechanisms clicking as he loosed bolt after bolt. "Left flank, Seeker!" he called out as a Terror demon materialized from the shadows, its elongated claws slashing toward an exposed soldier. Cassandra pivoted just in time, her blade intercepting the attack with a shower of sparks.

Solas remained near the children, his staff planted firmly in the earth as he wove shimmering barriers around the most vulnerable. His voice was calm but urgent as he directed refugees to move back. "Stay behind the soldiers. Do not run—you will only draw their attention."

Daniel felt the familiar pull of the mark on his hand as he raised it toward the rift. The green energy crackled through his veins, but before he could attempt to seal it, another wave of demons surged forth. He cursed under his breath and shifted tactics—if he couldn't close the rift yet, he could at least thin their numbers.

With a sharp motion, he summoned a crackling chain lightning, the bolt arcing from one Shade to the next, leaving charred husks in its wake. A Terror demon lunged at him, but he rolled aside, following up with an energy barrage that sent the creature staggering back into Varric's line of fire. Bianca's bolt struck true, embedding itself between the demon's eyes before exploding in a burst of fire runes.

The refugees screamed as the battle raged, some clutching children to their chests, others frozen in terror. Daniel gritted his teeth—they couldn't fight like this, not with civilians in the crossfire.

"Fall back!" he shouted to Cassandra over the din. "We need to get these people out of here!"

Cassandra didn't hesitate. "Soldiers, cover the retreat! Varric, Solas—keep them safe!"

Varric hopped down from his perch, Bianca still at the ready. "Alright, folks, time to move! Nice and orderly—no shoving, no screaming. Unless you want to be demon chow."

Solas maintained his barriers as he herded the refugees toward the relative safety of the tree line. The elderly and children were helped along by the able-bodied, their faces pale with fear but moving nonetheless.

Daniel kept his focus split—between the rift, the remaining demons, and the fleeing civilians. The moment the last of the refugees were clear, he turned his full attention back to the fight.

"Now!" he called to Cassandra.

She understood instantly, rallying the soldiers to push forward. With the civilians no longer in immediate danger, they could fight without restraint.

The first wave of demons had fallen, their twisted forms dissolving into acrid smoke that stung the nostrils and clung to the back of the throat. The Inquisition soldiers, though battered, held their ground, their shields dented and blades slick with ichor. Cassandra exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulder to ease the ache of a near-miss claw strike. Varric was already reloading Bianca, his fingers moving with practiced precision despite the tension in his jaw. Solas remained vigilant, his staff still glowing faintly from the last barrier he had cast over a trembling child.

Daniel flexed his marked hand, the emerald energy flickering like a dying ember. It had been close—too close. The refugees were safe for now, but the rift still pulsed malevolently above them, a jagged wound in the sky that throbbed with unnatural energy. He opened his mouth to order a regrouping—

Then the rift convulsed.

A sound like tearing fabric split the air, and the ground trembled as if the earth itself recoiled. The tear in the Veil widened, its edges writhing like serpents, and from its depths poured the next wave of horrors.

Eight Shade demons slithered forth first, their forms shifting between corporeal and smoke, eyes burning with hollow hunger. Behind them, three Terror demons emerged, their elongated limbs clicking against the ground as they hunched forward, jaws unhinging in silent shrieks. The air grew heavier, thick with the stench of the Fade—ozone and rotting flesh.

Daniel's stomach dropped. This wasn't over.

Cassandra swore under her breath, tightening her grip on her sword. "Maker's breath—again?"

Varric let out a low whistle. "Well, Bianca, looks like we're earning our pay today."

Solas's voice cut through the rising panic, calm but edged with urgency. "The rift is reacting to our presence. The more we fight, the more it may retaliate."

Daniel didn't have time to dwell on that. The Shades were already surging forward, their movements erratic, phasing in and out of visibility. The Terrors hung back, circling like predators waiting for an opening. The soldiers, though weary, braced themselves, shields locking once more.

"Hold the line!" Daniel barked, his voice raw. "Cassandra, with me—we take the Terrors before they pick us apart. Varric, Solas—thin the Shades. Soldiers, keep them contained!"

No one argued. The time for hesitation was past.

Cassandra moved like a storm given flesh, her silverite blade a blur as she crashed into the nearest Terror. The demon reared back, but she was faster, her shield slamming into its midsection before her sword carved a deep gash across its chest. Black ichor sprayed, sizzling where it struck the ground.

Daniel flanked the second Terror, his staff humming as he channeled raw energy into a crackling whip of lightning. The demon screeched as the bolt lashed across its spindly limbs, but it retaliated with a swipe of its claws. Daniel barely twisted away in time, feeling the rush of air as talons grazed his ribs. He countered with a burst of flame, the fire erupting in a cone that forced the demon back—straight into Varric's line of fire.

Bianca sang.

The bolt struck the Terror's shoulder, the rune upon it detonating in a burst of concussive force. The demon staggered, and Cassandra was there, her blade severing its head from its shoulders in one clean stroke.

The third Terror lunged for an exposed soldier, its maw gaping. Solas's barrier flared to life just in time, the demon's claws skittering off the shimmering dome. The elf didn't pause—with a sharp gesture, he sent a surge of spirit energy rippling outward, disrupting the demon's form long enough for Daniel to finish it with a well-placed ice spike through its skull.

Meanwhile, the Shades were wreaking havoc. They slipped through the soldiers' defenses like smoke, materializing behind the lines to drag men down with ghostly claws. Varric's bolts punched through them, but the creatures reformed moments later, hissing.

"They're not staying down!" a soldier yelled, voice cracking.

Solas's eyes narrowed. "They are tethered to the rift. Disrupt their connection!"

Daniel understood. He raised his marked hand, feeling the familiar, searing pull of the Anchor's power. The rift responded, its energy lashing like a wounded beast. He gritted his teeth and pulled.

A pulse of green light erupted from the mark, washing over the battlefield. The Shades shrieked as their forms destabilized, flickering like candle flames in a gale.

"Now!" Cassandra roared.

The soldiers surged forward, blades and spears finding their marks. The Shades, no longer able to phase, fell one by one, their dissipating forms hissing into nothingness. Varric picked off the stragglers, Bianca's mechanisms clicking rhythmically.

The last Terror, seeing its kin slain, let out a howl of rage—and charged straight for Solas.

The elf barely had time to raise his staff before the demon was upon him. But Daniel was faster.

He moved.

With a snarl, he tackled the Terror mid-lunge, his momentum carrying them both to the ground. The demon thrashed, claws raking his side, but Daniel ignored the pain, driving his dagger into its throat. It gurgled, ichor bubbling from the wound—then went still.

Silence.

The battlefield was littered with scorch marks, shattered shields, and the fading remnants of demons. The soldiers panted, some leaning on their weapons, others clutching wounds. Varric wiped sweat from his brow, Bianca resting across his shoulders. Cassandra's armor was dented, her face smeared with soot and blood, but her gaze was unwavering.

And the rift still hung above them, pulsing weakly now, like a dying heartbeat.

Daniel pushed himself up, wincing as his side protested. The mark on his hand flared, responding to the rift's weakened state.

"It's time," he said hoarsely.

He raised his hand, the Anchor's light intensifying. The rift shuddered, tendrils of energy lashing out as if in protest. The pain was excruciating—like his veins were being filled with molten lead—but Daniel clenched his jaw and pushed back.

The green energy surged from his palm, striking the rift like a spear. The tear in the Veil convulsed, its edges writhing as the Anchor's power forced it to knit back together. The air itself seemed to scream, a high-pitched whine that set teeth on edge.

Then—

A final, brilliant flash.

The rift closed.

The shockwave sent Daniel stumbling back, his ears ringing. The unnatural pressure in the air lifted, the stench of the Fade dissipating like smoke in the wind. The sky was whole again.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then—

A ragged cheer rose from the soldiers, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Varric let out a breathless laugh. "Andraste's knickers, I need a drink."

Cassandra sheathed her sword, her shoulders sagging in relief. "It is done."

Solas approached Daniel, his expression unreadable. "You wield the mark with increasing control."

Daniel flexed his hand, the glow of the Anchor fading to a dull throb. "Yeah. Still feels like it's trying to burn its way out of my skin, though."

Before Solas could respond, something flickered at the edge of Daniel's vision—a translucent screen, hovering just beyond focus. He blinked, and it sharpened into clarity:

[Rift Sealed: 250 EXP Gained.]

He stared.

The interface was crisp, almost clinical in its simplicity.

250 experience points. For closing the rift.

"Daniel?" Cassandra frowned. "Are you injured?"

He shook his head, the screen dissolving as quickly as it had appeared. "No. Just… realizing how strange my life has become after becoming the Herald of Andraste."

Varric clapped him on the back, grinning. "Welcome to the club, kid."

The refugees began to emerge from the trees, their faces pale but hopeful. Children clung to their parents, elders leaned on the shoulders of the young. They looked at Daniel—no, at all of them—with something like awe.

One woman stepped forward, her hands trembling as she pressed them together in gratitude. "You saved us. Thank you."

Daniel swallowed. This—this was why they fought.

Daniel exhaled, the weight of the refugees' hopeful stares pressing against him like a physical thing. The woman who had thanked him still stood there, her hands clasped, her eyes searching his for reassurance. Behind her, the others waited—some clutching children, others nursing injuries, a few with the hollow-eyed look of those who had seen too much.

He wanted to promise them safety. Wanted to tell them he would walk with them every step of the way. But the truth was colder than the mountain air.

"We can't escort you back to Haven ourselves," Daniel said, his voice steady but firm. "We have urgent business in Val Royeaux."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. A man near the front, his arm wrapped in a bloodied bandage, frowned. "You're just going to leave us?"

Cassandra stepped forward before Daniel could respond. "The path we took to get here is clear. Follow it west, and from there, the road to Haven is well-marked and patrolled by our scouts."

Varric added, "And trust me, you want to get to Haven. Warm beds, hot food, and no demons trying to turn you into a chew toy."

A few nervous chuckles broke the tension, but the fear in their eyes didn't fade.

Daniel knelt to meet the gaze of a young boy clinging to his mother's skirts. "You'll be safe," he said, quieter now. "The Inquisition will welcome you. They'll give you shelter, medicine—whatever you need."

The boy didn't speak, but his grip on his mother loosened slightly.

Then Daniel straightened, addressing the group again. "And if any of you are templars or mages—" His gaze swept over a few individuals who stood apart, their postures guarded. A woman with a staff strapped to her back. A man whose bearing screamed military, even in tattered civilian clothes. "—the Inquisition could use your strength. We're fighting to stop all of this." He gestured to the scorched earth where the rift had been. "Demons. The Breach. The chaos tearing the world apart. If you're willing to stand with us, you'll have a place."

Silence. Then—

The templar—because that's what he had to be—stepped forward. "You're the Herald of Andraste." It wasn't a question.

Daniel suppressed a grimace. He still wasn't sure how he felt about that title. "I'm just a man trying to fix what's broken."

The templar studied him for a long moment, then gave a sharp nod. "I'll join you. What's left of the Order is scattered. If the Inquisition is the only force standing against the demons, then I'll fight under its banner."

The mage woman hesitated, then sighed. "And I suppose sitting out the end of the world would be rather foolish."

A few others murmured agreement—not just mages and templars, but hunters, farmers, even a former city guard. Daniel felt something unclench in his chest. Good. We need every blade, every spell.

Cassandra took charge then, barking orders to the soldiers. "You five—escort the refugees as far as the Haven outskirt. Ensure they have supplies. The rest of us move for Val Royeaux at first light."

As the group began to disperse, Solas approached Daniel, his expression inscrutable. "A wise decision. Their presence in Haven will do more than bolster numbers—it will spread word of the Inquisition's actions here."

Daniel rubbed his marked hand absently. "Assuming they make it there safely."

"They will," Solas said, with a certainty that made Daniel glance at him sharply. But the elf merely inclined his head and walked away.

That night, they made camp in the shadow of the hills, far enough from the battlefield that the stench of death didn't linger. The soldiers took turns on watch, though after the day's fight, most were too exhausted for conversation. Varric had already claimed a spot by the fire, Bianca propped beside him as he scribbled in a worn notebook. Cassandra sharpened her sword with methodical precision, the scrape of whetstone on steel a steady rhythm in the quiet.

Daniel sat apart, staring into the flames. His side ached where the Terror's claws had grazed him, but it was the other pain that gnawed at him—the Anchor's persistent burn, the way it pulsed in time with his heartbeat like a second, unwanted life.

Focus. He had bigger problems. Val Royeaux awaited—a den of politics, Chantry rhetoric, and who knew what else. The Inquisition needed allies, and right now, they had few.

A shadow fell across the fire. Cassandra.

"You should rest," she said. "Tomorrow won't be easier."

Daniel snorted. "When is it ever?"

She didn't smile, but her tone softened slightly. "You did well today. The refugees will spread word of what happened here. That matters."

He knew what she wasn't saying. Every victory makes you more than a man. More than a survivor. It makes you a symbol.

He wasn't sure he wanted to be one.

But the mark on his hand didn't care what he wanted.

Dawn came too soon.

The camp stirred sluggishly, soldiers packing gear with stiff, sore movements. The refugees had already set out at first light, their escort leading them westward. Daniel watched them go until they disappeared into the morning mist.

Maker watch over them.

Then it was time to move.

Val Royeaux lay to the northeast, a journey of several days through the hinterlands. The terrain grew rougher as they traveled, the rolling hills giving way to dense forests and rocky outcrops. They kept a brisk pace, but the road was far from safe—bandit patrols lurked in the woods, and twice they spotted dark shapes moving in the distance that could have been wolves or worse.

On the second evening, as they made camp near a shallow river, Varric sidled up to Daniel. "So. Val Royeaux. Ever been?"

Daniel shook his head. "Can't say I have."

Varric grinned. "Oh, you're in for a treat. Orlesians love two things: masks and drama. Sometimes I think they wear the masks just so they can really commit to the backstabbing."

Cassandra, overhearing, scowled. "This isn't a joke. The Chantry's hostility toward the Inquisition could turn violent."

"Which is why we're bringing you along, Seeker," Varric said cheerfully. "Nothing says 'diplomacy' like a heavily armed warrior scowling at everyone."

Daniel chuckled despite himself. But Cassandra wasn't wrong. The Chantry had already denounced them as heretics. And if the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux turned its full wrath on them… He glanced at his marked hand. We'll burn that bridge when we get to it.

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Name : Daniel Carter

Race: Elf

Level 5 : 2433/2500 EXP

Professions: Mage

Gold Coins: 2289 coins

Weapon: Staff of the Dragon

Armor: Light Armor of the Dragon and Templar Scribe Scowl

Accessories: Token of the Packmaster and Belt of Health

Inventory: Acolyte Ice Staff, Morning Star, Stiletto, Hunting Longbow, Fire Resistance Cowl, Mercenary Coat, Acolyte Fire Staff, Disciple Lighting Staff, Apprentice Armor, Qunari Battleaxe, Raider Hatchet, 2 Disciple Fire Staff, Apprentice Mail, Qunari Buckler, Medium Adventure Armor, Mindleech Staff, Soldier's Nemesis, 2 Recruit's Dirk, Reinforced Dagger, Sledgehammer, Disciple Lighting Staff, Apprentice Armor, Exacting Longbow, Barbarian Lord Maul, Lifeward Amulet, and Grenade Belt

Crafting Materials: 37 Elfroot, 62 Iron, 2 Blue Vitriol, 1 Dawn Lotus, 11 Silk, 17 Lambswool, 3 Royal Elfroot, 10 Ram Leather, 23 Drakestone, 4 Fire Essence, 3 Blue Vitriol, 11 Canine Leather, 4 Plaidewaive, 2 Frost Essence, 1 Fade-Touched Iron, 4 Blood Lotus, 5 Embrium, 10 Spindleweed, 16 Onyx, 3 Ironbarks, 2 Crystal Grace, and 1 Serpenstone

Upgrades: Sigil of the Gamordan Stromrider and Sigil of Deathroot

Valuables: 2 Shadow Essence, 1 Ram Horn, 1 Dreamer Rag, 5 Weapon Fragment, 2 Bowstring, 8 Mysterious Shards, Nevarra Skull, 1 Wisp Essence, and 1 Wolf Fangs

Potions: Lesser Health Potions x8, Lesser Regeneration Potions x5, and x5 Lyrium Potion

Skills: Chain Lighting, Flashfire, Barrier, Winter's Grasp, and Energy Barrage

Armor Schematics: Shokra-taar Schematic, Antaam-saar Schematic, Avvar Armor Schematics Acquired, Stone-Bear Armor Schematics, Vanguard Coat Schematic, Sturdy Defender Coat Schematic, and Scout Mail Arms Schematic

Weapon Schematics: Curved Dagger Schematic and Hunting Bow Schematic

Potion Recipe: Lesser Regeneration Potion recipe and Lyrium Potion Recipe

Bottles of Thedas: Vint-9 Rowan's Rose and Carnal, 8:69 Blessed