Dragon Age: The Rite of Passage

Rite of Passage: Chapter Two

With the sounding of the second horns, the large warrior rushed toward Tristan with his great-sword dragging the earth, causing dust to ascend from the arena floor. Girding himself, tightening the grip on his shield, Tristan allowed his sword arm to fall to his side. From the corner of his eye he saw the rogue disappear, the assassin's trick seemingly causing the elf to vanish instantly. Lost in his blind-spot, an optical defect most creatures possessed in their peripheral vision, Tristan shifted in an effort to locate the tall slender elf. Turning suddenly hearing the gasp of the crowd as he deflected the slicing blades of the assassin with his sword, Tristan lashed out with his shield.

A pincer attack, obviously designed to leave the young knight's backside exposed, had only been a distraction. Fixed against the wild strikes of the elf, Tristan planted his feet firmly into the earth unmoving. The elf's opening gambit meant to drive him back giving the Orlesian the opportunity to deliver a clean finishing blow. Warding off the brunt of his attacker's assault as the elf glided away, the young knight quickly repositioned his guard stance. With a loud yell the warrior lifted his sword and sought to bring the colossal weapon down on the boy's head; no doubt ending any chance he had of winning or walking away with his life. Stepping back spinning suddenly, closing the distance between the large man and himself, Tristan knelt as he raised his shield overhead. The sudden movement causing the warrior to shorten his strides and readjust as he brought the weight of his weapon down in an awkward arch leaving himself off balance. Redirecting the force of the blow off the side of his shield, Tristan drove the spiked pommel of his sword into the man's foot. Rolling away, hearing the sickening crunch of metal plate, broken flesh and bone; the young knight leapt to his feet braced behind his shield. Around him the arena came to life with applause. Although he couldn't be sure their affection had been meant entirely for him or another, he beat his sword against his shield in acceptance. Watching, keeping her distance away from the conflict, the cloaked woman studied him, her approval sensed beneath her hooded robe.

"Well, I dare say your nephew is somewhat of a showman, Lady Cassandra," Dorian said fully invested in the games. "No doubt a trait picked up while training with Varric I'd wager."

Delighted, "No Dorian, the ringing of his shield is a custom of House Pentaghast," Cassandra said proudly. "It is how we honor the dead and tempt death in battle."

"I can't wait to hear the logic behind that, Lord Seeker," Varric said, pouring more wine. "I always assumed you did it because you're such a badass."

"I hardly portray myself as a, 'badass', Varric. Besides, it's not that complicated. Only the living can tempt the dead and the boy is simply telling all in attendance; he's having the time of his life."

Moving behind the knelling warrior as he sought to stand using his sword, the elf disarmed him; kicking away the weapon as he put a dagger to the large man's throat. Voicing their disapproval many in the crowd hissed and chanted slanders as the elf circled the fallen man taunting him.

"What say you, is he still a danger," the elf asked Tristan, slicing beneath the man's armpit. "Should I end him or will he stay down? Do you yield," he said taunting, slicing the man's other armpit. "There, now he won't be such a distraction while we sort things out."

Grunting, unable to lift his arms, the large warrior moaned and crashed face first into the dust. Without warning the assassin sprinted toward Tristan. Feeling blades ring against his guard, Tristan lunged forward deflecting the strikes with his shield; causing the elf to give ground. Countering and jabbing with a series of attacks aimed at the elf's face, Tristan watched the rogue glide away effortlessly, putting distance between them once more.

"Oh well, it was worth a try," the rogue said smiling. "Guess I'll have to..."

Rushing toward the cloaked woman as she lowered her staff, the assassin tried to halt his momentum. Feeling the air around him grow cold as the woman uttered an incantation, Tristan swiftly brought his shield up to his face. As though summoned from the abyss itself, a wall of fire rose up in front of her. The glow and heat intensified by the magic enclosure as dispelling magic drew the inferno upward seeking to extinguish the flames. In an effort to protect himself, the elven assassin bound back and covered himself; the heat of the enchantment lingering in the air as the woman raised her staff strengthening the spell. Charging forward, rushing toward the recoiling elf, Tristan drove his shield into the assassin's back. Dropping his guard slightly in an effort to locate his target as he brought his sword across his body; a blinding flash of light forced the young knight to lift his shield instinctively.