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Kirk Tabris	By : YGuy Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 6014 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, nor the characters therein. I make no money from this work.

Chapter List
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A darkspawn attack definitely wasn’t what he had been hoping for in his welcome to Vigil’s Keep; darkspawn in any number or form, no matter what they were doing, be it raiding villages or picking daisies was the last thing he wanted to have to deal with. Kirk was a Grey Warden and thus he was obligated to be concerned and take action in any matters related to darkspawn, still he wished he could get an actual break from all the troubles of the Blight and what came after.
It was true that he had been made a lord and put in charge of the Alienage and that had kept him away from the blighted creatures for a time, but only because such a position entailed tiresome work of a whole different kind. Now he wasn’t sad that the elves now had representation amongst the nobility, and that he was the representative; it was a great honor and prefaced the potential for great change, help and healing, but he did get tired.
He had already found allies, old and new in the stony walls of the Keep, his ally from the Blight; Oghren the dwarven Berserker, was eager to take a place within the ranks of the Wardens after the recent campaign of carnage launched by the darkspawn. Nathaniel Howe, son of the sociopathic Arl who had taken over for Vaughan in terrorizing the people of Denerim, had been less than ecstatic about his conscription following his capture after attempting to steal back now forfeit property from the Keep, and apparently seeking to murder Kirk. The blonde Warden Commander knew his type, rogue, and dark, capable of killing but not a killer, not an assassin like Zevran.
Though Nathaniel did fight like Zevran, sans bravado, so much so, Kirk had contemplated teaching the Howe what little of the art of assassination Zevran had taught him. The way they fought was where the similarities ended however, where Zevran was almost infectiously vivacious at times, Nathaniel was forever brooding; a sour puss. He was also somewhat glad Nathanial did not possess Zevran’s penchant for the raunchy, and didn’t spend every other minute, trying to convince Kirk to let him “just taste the tip”. Kirk was no stranger to the sexual, and Maker forbid he ever declare he did not like it, but when flirtation became nagging, his desire quickly became fleeting.
The ally that surprised him most, both in his motivations for wanting to join the Wardens and in Kirk’s own reasoning to let him join was: Anders. Truthfully the mage hadn’t arrived at the Keep wishing to join the Wardens but rather as a prisoner of the Templars, not unusual for an Apostate, however the man clearly defied the stereotypical imagery of the Apostates the Chantry had proclaimed.
He was not cackling madly, using spells to rain death upon the innocents, and he had no grand plans to annihilate the Chantry in a grand explosion, in short; he was not the evil mage he was “supposed” to be. While Kirk knew these images of “evil Apostates” were false from the allies he had made while defending the land from the Blight, Morrigan at least, Maker bless her pragmatic and occasionally cruel soul, had on occasion, validated the cackling madly and raining death claims. To be fair, both involved her battling darkspawn, and he would forgive anyone, mage or not, for being a little warped when faced with those monsters.
He was however, an Apostate all the same, and he desperately wanted to escape the clutches of the Circle and the Chantry and for that he was willing to fight darkspawn at Kirk’s side. It wasn’t an unfathomable leap in thinking, considering the man had been fighting darkspawn in the Keep before even meeting Kirk the fateful night it was raided by the beasts, so he wasn’t completely inexperienced.

Usually, in these post-Blight times, with the need for exceptional fighters to rally against the darkspawn gone, Kirk would have turned Anders or any other mage over to the Circle or the Chantry but the Templar who had sought to return Anders to her custody had ensured this would not happen herself.
In her mind, that Anders, an Apostate, had been found near Templar bodies, regardless of the darkspawn also surrounding the bodies, despite the obvious signs the Templars that had been escorting Anders had been killed with weapons and not magic, meant that he was obviously the killer and should be punished, probably with death. Kirk had begun to observe such zealot behaviour with disgust, and while Kirk may have shared some measure of it only little more than a year or so ago, his travels had taught him otherwise. Thus he had liberated Anders from the madness of this Templar and into the service of the Grey Wardens; an equal madness some might say.
The civil war and the Blight had taught him that while The Chantry may have preached the righteous truth; it and its enforcers were far from righteous. They could be kind and giving, spreading the Chant and being stalwart defenders of the weak and helpless at their best, but at their worst, the wickedness that dwelled within some possibly outstripped that of the darkspawn, beings that by their nature knew nothing of goodness.
Though he wondered if that truth may be proven false, for it had not been his imagination playing on him that stormy night the Vigil was assaulted, the darkspawn leading the attack had spoken and not in crude mimicry either, in intelligence. It was disconcerting to say the least, and as Warden Commander he was obliged to investigate, while somehow managing to fulfil his new duties as ruler over the Amaranthine. His duties in Denerim over the Alienage had been passed to Shianni while he was away, a small rest that he was not ungrateful for.
From the walls of Vigil’s Keep he drew his bowstring and let loose an arrow, the projectile hurtling through the air despite the cold winds that buffeted it, striking a wolf with fatal precision, the beast‘s legs giving way as it fell forward and skidded across the ground, finally coming to a stop as its body lost momentum, sliding into some dense brush. He took no comfort in the creature’s death; unfortunately, stationary targets did nothing to hone his archery and assassinating the more dangerous wild life from the Keep’s walls had become somewhat of a routine.
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