(A/N- start)

Hello every one! I bring tiding: another story, this one of hopefully epic (100k words +) length, and covering the events of DA2&3.

To be honest, the events of CotV were where they were because John had been manipulating events for a very long time, and the Loa followed the Von-Neumann design of becoming excessively overpowered very quickly, thus rendering problems mostly moot.

So, I shoved a clone of John into Dragon Age, during the events of DA2.

In an alien environment, where everything seems to want to kill you, there is a vast, aggressive plague in the form of the Blight, and soon, the world will break- what better place to stick a shapeshifting adaptive cannibalistic monstrous mad scientist?

So yeah.. Enjoy the show.

Disclaimer: I don't own Mass Effect, Prototype, or Dragon Age. I may eventually, but not yet.

(A/N- end)

No-Face Ch 0- Varric's epic

A dwarf was dragged roughly through the cramped halls of the fortress. The solders dragging him kicked open an interrogation chamber, and slammed him down on the stone chair.

"I've had gentler invitations..." He muttered, checking his nose with a hand as he glanced around in the half-light of the room. The dwarf, with no beard, and long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, he looked very, very odd. Then again, knowing this particular dwarf, that was what he was going for.

The door opened, and a woman stepped through. Human, olive skin and short black hair, she moved gracefully even while wearing full body plate armor.
When she spoke, her voice had a bit of a purr to it, but with the unmistakable steel of intent was clear. "I am Cassandra Pentagast, Seeker of the Chantry." She gestured for the dwarf to respond.

He chuckled. "And just what are you seeking?" He asked.

"The champion."

"Which one?" He sounded amused.

Cassandra was not. Moving smoothly, she drew a dagger, and had it under his chin before he could blink. "You know exactly why I'm here!" A book dropped in his lap, and fell open to about the halfway point. "Time to start talking, Dwarf. They tell me you're good at it!" She punctuated her words by stabbing the dagger through one of open parts of the book, and left it there.

The dwarf picked up the book, and looked curiously at the dagger which now impaled half of the pages. Somewhat cautiously, he spoke again. "What do you want to know?"

Cassandra turned to stare at the dwarf. "Everything. Start at the beginning."

The dwarf took a moment, and looked at the book that had fallen in his lap. As an author he had a discerning eye for detail, and remembered every book he had ever written. This was one of his, a biographical (mostly) account of the arrival of the Hawke family, and the adventure of himself and the rest of their merry party of mercenaries, Pirates, apostates, and, he hesitated to use the term, monsters, who had joined with Hawke on their many adventures in the last few years.

The page he could see that didn't have a dagger through it was one of his favorite pieces, a stylized portage- 6 of the others who joined his friend, Hawke, through most of these adventures. The simplistic portrayals were within a hexagon, and in the middle, there was a stylized black mask, the portrait of the only monster that he had ever met.

Nostalgically, he ran his finger over the Hawke crest, which the dagger was sticking through, and began his tale.

After a few minutes of storytelling, Cassandra couldn't take any more. "Bullshit!"

The dwarf smirked. "Does that not match the story you heard, seeker?"

"I'm not interested in stories!" The seeker was so agitated, she was pacing. "I came to hear the truth!"

"What makes you think I, of all people, know the truth?"

"Don't lie to me!" She hissed. "You knew him even before he became the champion!"

"Even if I did... I don't know where he is now." He was almost apologetic of that fact.

"Do you have any idea what's at stake here?"

"Let me guess..." He was almost smug. "Your precious Chantry has fallen to pieces, with the world on the brink of war..." Every statement was accompanied by grand hand gestures. "And you need the one person who can put it back together?"

Cassandra was speaking slightly softer now, not by much, but enough to be noticeable. "The champion was at the heart of it when it all began." She stared at him, making the dwarf even more uncomfortable. "If you can't point me to him, tell me everything you know."

"You aren't worried I'll make it up as I go?" He leaned forward, honestly interested in her answer.

"Not at all."

"In that case..." He leaned back, and got comfortable (or as comfortable as he could get on the stone chair). "You are going to need to hear the whole story..."

Several hours of storytelling later, complete with combat, chases, escapes, darkspawn, dragons, giant spiders, Qunari, and rum, the dwarf recounted the tale of Garrett Hawke, swordsman extraordinaire, his mage sister Bethany (who stayed behind, collected by the Templars), and, of course, the stunning handsome dwarf (himself), Varric Tethras, Bianca (his crossbow), and a few others, all came back from Bertrand's Deeproads Expedition. After turning the treasure into lucre, the group saw a shooting star land just beyond the elven camp.

At that point, Varric paused in his storytelling.

"Why did you stop?" Cassandra was engrossed in the story now. "And why would a shooting star be important?"

Varric had been drinking water, supplied by the Seeker, up to this point, but now, he pulled out a hip flask filled with a very strong liquor. "This star... It was the reason we learned about the worlds beyond stars, and we all met No-Face."

"Who?"

The dwarf took a deep swig of the liquor. "You may want to get a drink for this..."

"I'll be fine-"

"No, you won't. Trust me."

"Ah! There you are!" Bohdan ran up the steps to the main citadel in Hightown, as the Hawke walked out, the man reminiscing over what the Arishok could want with these summons. "I've been looking everywhere for you, mesere. If only you humans didn't all look the same!"

"We can't all be short and bearded like your people, Bohdan." Hawke smirked, the blood-red scar over his nose wrinkling.

"Indeed." Bohdan was beginning to get the hang of sarcasm, but his acceptance of the humor was stifled slightly by his heavy breathing. Stairs built for humans were not kind to dwarves. "It's quite a shame, really." He pulled out a purse filled with coins. "I came to deliver this to you."

Hawke accepted the sack, maybe a hundred sovereigns or so of gold.

"It's the last of the treasure you found in the Deeproads." Bohdan grinned under his beard. "It seems your friend Varric found a buyer a after all, yes? Quite well done."

Hawke cocked an eyebrow. "So you raced here just to give me this?"

"I didn't want to be responsible for so much coin! Just holding that purse was making me sweat!" Indeed, the dwarf was sweating. Quite a bit, considering how sticky the purse was. "Ah... Before I go..." Bohdan bowed. "May I simply say how grateful I am for allowing my boy stay in your home! I said I repay you for saving Sandal's life, and I shall serve you faithfully. It is good to know he is safe."

Hawke sighed. "I didn't ask you to be my manservant Bohdan."

Bohdan was about to make some instant remark, when the city lit up with a bright white light, as something, a shard of a star, flew overhead with a deafening explosion of noise.

Everyone experienced in combat took cover- the guards shot behind pillars, the Templars that patrolled the city raised their shields, and ordinary citizens mainly either shivered in fear or almost wet themselves.

Hawke had pulled out his blade, a piece of metal that was half as wide as most shields (and as long as he was), and crouched behind it at an angle, having snagged Bohdan with his other arm. He would rather damage his favorite sword than be harmed by whatever that was.

The dwarf waited in stunned silence as the thunderous noise abated, and the glow received. Before sticking his bearded head out from around the edge of the blade. "What was that? I have never seen or heard it's like before!"

Hawke stood up, re-sheathed his weapon on his back, and helped his loyal dwarfservant to his feet. "I do not know. However..." Hawke rubbed his temples as a headache arrived. They were becoming more common the longer he stayed out here. "I would be willing to bet that whatever that was, someone is going to ask for us to retrieve it sooner or later."

Bohdan looked slightly concerned, but then shrugged. "If you say so, mesere. I will see you at home- your mother asks that you return to the mansion, when you have a chance."

"Right. See you later Bohdan." Hawke looked a little distracted- and for good reason. Templars were escorting some mages out of the city, along with a platoon of scholars and a few of the quicker-witted nobles. His journey home was only slightly delayed by the falling star, but when he got home, he left thoughts of the star out of his mind.

He was home.

Varric rarely visited Hawke at his home. Especially since the man moved into that mansion. However, this time, he had no choice. A significant opportunity was upon them, and if their little group wanted to profit, they would need to move quickly.

"I like the doggy."

He had no idea what he was watching now, though.

"Ruff ruff rawf!" Sandal, the enchanting savant, was barking at Hawke's Mabari, and the dog was barking back.

"Woof woof!" The Mabari, who Varric remembered was named Fang, was barking back, and his stump of a tail was wagging very quickly.

"I am never going to get used to that..." Varric muttered.

Aveline, the captain of the guard, and one of Hawke's closer friends, walked in, giving the dwarves and dog a strange look before focusing on said Hawke, who was standing at the top of the bannister in a casual robe. "You seem settling in nicely."

Hawke grinned. "It's just luck. And skill."

"Indeed." She smirked as Hawke walked down the stairs to come level with the armored woman. "Still- more coin never hurts, right?" She hesitated, then spoke again. "Say- if someone wanted to pass some work your way..."

"I'm listening Aveline. What do you need?" Hawke leaned against his writing desk, and crossed his arms. It seemed, to him, that everyone brought their problems straight to him, rather than solving the issues themselves- but then again, he would have less work if that happened, and like she said- more coin never hurt.

"Someone's trying to be a guard. Poorly." The annoyance in Aveline's voice was unmistakable. "Remember Emeric? The Templar? He wants your help, and some sort of 'official' sanction." She shrugged. "He's convinced that every random murder in the last few years is connected, and he won't be quiet."

"That's great and all..." Varric thought this would be a perfect time to butt in. "But that falling star? I heard word through my contacts that, whatever it was, it has the mages, and Templars, flummoxed." He grinned. "They have no idea what they may have found, and we need to get it!"

Hawke cocked his head. "Why?"

Varric's grin got even wider, if that was possible. "Star-metal, one of the rarest and most useful materials for making... Anything, really, comes from fallen stars. We need to collect it."

Aveline rubbed her temples. "Hawke?"

The man looked at the guard-captain. "Do you think it's worth investigating?"

Varric snapped his fingers twice. "Yoo hoo! Priceless material just fell out of the sky! Can't this other matter wait?"

Hawke looked at the dwarf. "Patience, Varric." He turned to Avaline. "Continue, please."

Aveline glared at the dwarf, trying to set him on fire with her mind. "I had. He even convinced one of my lieutenants to raid the DuPuis Mansion- nothing there." Her nose wrinkled. "You would not believe how much ass I had to kiss after that..."

"Ohhhh yes I would!" Varric couldn't help himself.

"Bloody hobbiest constable." Aveline rubbed her forehead- the stress of her job was getting to her. "Why can't he spend his declining years building a boat or something."

Hawke glanced at Varric, and smirked when he saw the dwarf trying, and barely succeeding, to keep his mouth closed. "I personally don't like the idea of building a boat. Maybe a catapult."

Aveline smiled.

"Regardless, I seem to remember that he had some decent leads."

Aveline smirked. "Then I hope you don't mind chasing his threads. If it leads somewhere, I'll pick it up. Right now, he's just distracting my men." She turned away. "He's in the gallows. Do what you can." She stopped, and looked over her shoulder. "Thanks Hawke- I'll try not to make a habit of this."

Varric didn't move until she left. However, the moment the door closed behind her, he was right at Hawke's side. "So..."

Hawke nodded. "Yeah. Let's check out that star, then deal with all that." Going over to the horn, he blew a few sharp notes, letting the tones ring out over the city. Soon, five horn blasts answered him- his companions were coming.

John tried to pull himself out of the impact crater, and failed miserably, as his body was still reforming. He appeared to be forming a semi-skeleton out of his biomass, but he didn't have enough to spare before the fragile structures collapsed under their own weight, melting into the puddle of liquid BlackLight.

Wherever he arrived, himself and the cloud of debris ended up just entering the atmosphere at a significant number of times faster than the speed of sound, with next-to-no warning.

He barely had any time to hide within the debris before the air began to superheat, and he was effectively cooked. Only the benefits of setting his biomass into it's most heavily-armored structures allowed him to remain relatively intact on impact- and most of his body was cooked anyway.

John stopped trying to create a semi-human form (which melted back into the puddle), and went for a simpler one. Black tendrils snaked across the ground, sucking up any life-form they came across that had remained intact, while his body collapsed into a spherical shape- like a seed pod. Leaves sprouted on the ends of tendrils, orienting to catch the sunlight, and roots shot into the ground, absorbing the biologically active entities within the soil, then absorbing the soil- all nutrients would be needed for reconstruction.

John let mis mind lull, almost sleeping, just keeping an eye on his level of active biomass as he observed the crater he had dug into this mountainside.

Luckily, John had a lot to passively observe, as his crater faced some form of citadel-like city. Absentmindedly, he noticed that it was tiered, and there were no aircraft, or other motor vehicles within his sensory range. Extending a series of feather-like tendrils to taste the air, he noticed several other little, subtle things, all of which brought his mind out of it's lull.

There was no significant pollution, and yet, there was some wood-fire smells, and the scents of many plants and animals he had never smelled before.

He was so focused on the scents of this new world, that John forgot to continue paying attention to his hunting pulses. And so, a dozen men wearing metal armor and several others carrying staves managed to get within a kilometer of him without being noticed.

Of course, he still noticed them, but the shapeshifter was annoyed he had slipped so much. Or, more specifically, there was something ambient that was reducing his pulse-range, and he needed to find out what it was, ASAP.

To compensate, John extended several dozen feather-like antennae, and began to collect data on his environment, sending out continuous hunting pulses, trying to mentally account for the lack of range in his detection.

The group of Templar and Mages had no idea what they were looking at.

It was a crater, eight meters wide, as though a god had punched the mountainside. Within, coating the crater like a mold, tendrils of black, flecked with red, spread over the exposed rocks. Black feathers protruded from the mold, swaying gently in the breeze, while arcs of lightning occasionally jumped around, randomly discharging from feather to feather.

Immediately, the Mages began arguing over how to study this... Mold, and tried to take samples.

It didn't work. As soon as they got close, the tendrils, and feathers retracted, furling into spikes, but when they stepped back, the feathers extended again, and the 'mold' unfurled.

The Templar were hanging back, unwilling to approach the odd material, and stayed well back from the lip of the crater.

The Mages, of course, began to debate different methods of harvesting specimens. After almost an hour of debate, one bright spark decided to cast an ice spell at the tendrils, try to slow them down.

John didn't take it very well, and they were all rather tasty, and in reach of his tendrils.

The last part became very significant very quickly.

Garret Hawke trudged up the path, all of his friends/fellow adventurers following behind. Varric had warned that other merchants may hire mercenaries to 'acquire' the star-metal, and they should probably take everyone- just to be safe. Hawke had, however, needed to split the group into two teams due to inter-personnel bickering.

Team 1 was lead by him, and he was responsible for Isabella, Merrill, and Varric. They all got along well, although Merril was scatter-brained at times. Still- they only lit one house on fire while working together, and he counted that as a success.

Team 2 consisted of Fenris, Sebastian, and Anders, led by Aveline, and was... Less than stable. The conflicting views of Fenris, Sebastian, and Anders meant they were usually at each other's throats. Aveline was willing to bash them over the head with her shield when conflict arose, so the three usually got along. Now, however, they were glaring at each other with the vehemence usually reserved for cats and dogs.

Aveline had been just a bit more rough with the shield than necessary, seeing they were going on this errand before dealing with the annoying Templar.

The group broke into a run when they heard the first screams.

The adventurers got to the edge of the clearing around the crater (due to the pressure wave from impact- but none of them knew that), and the screams had died out a few minutes ago.

None of them were prepared for the singing.

")Once upon a time/Or so the story goes!/Three little pigs and a big bad wolf/finally came to blows!("

None of them could understand the language, but the voice unsettled them. It sounded... Human. Too human, if that was possible.

")It all began when the first little pig/built his house of straw!/ but the wolf came along and roared so loud/ it filled his heart with awe - awe - awe - awe!(" There was a loud crunching noise, then the voice spoke in perfectly understandable common, although the voice was androgynous, with a resonant undertone. "Well, why are you sneaking around? Come on, and let me take a look at you."

Surprisingly, Merril was the only one brave enough to peek over the edge of the crater, and, well, she was Merril. "Um... Hawke..."

Hawke sighed. "Yes Merril?"

"People are supposed to have faces, right? I mean, even through their helmets. You can sort of see their faces."

"Yes?" Hawke didn't know where Merril was going with this.

"Well... The person in this hole doesn't. Well... Maybe a mouth, considering he- or she?- is chewing on a sword."

That intrigued Hawke enough to look over the lip of the crater, and he was not really ready for what he saw there.

It looked like a human, covered in skintight black armor and segmented plates of darkness, sitting upon a heap of metal and staves. It had no face, only a smooth black panel- and a jaw, which opened along a previously unseen hinge and crunched on a sword, breaking the blade into slivers, which were chewed and swallowed mind-bogglingly quickly by the jagged black teeth.

Of course, there was also the fact that it was eating solid steel. Like a noble would nibble sweetmeats.

"That's not something you see everyday." Varric was the first to voice what was on everyone's minds.

"Darkspawn!" Anders voice rang out, and a fireball arced away from the mage, splattering against a crack in the ground, from which frenzied screaming was heard.

No sooner had the first darkspawn crawled out of the fissure, than the creature in the crater started laughing.

The genlocks paused, sallow skin on emancipated faces somewhat confused, while the adventurers had their attention pulled away from the focus of their ire for a few seconds, while the monster laughed. Hurlocks piled up behind them, and a few of the darkspawn tripped over each other, confused by the laughter.

")Zombies(? No, I would be so lucky..." Delicately, the creature walked off the pile of armor and weapons, and under it's feet, the metal bent. "Darkspawn? How quaint." The monster picked up a breastplate, probably a Templar one from the flaming sword motif, and began to flatten it out, clawed fingers bending metal like paper, having stopped laughing.

Both the darkspawn and adventurers, no longer distracted by the somewhat crazed, demonic laughter, turned back to each other, and spells began flying as the darkspawn charged.

It was well established that Hawke and the gang worked well together. The Mages cast area-of-effect spells, the snipers picked off high-value targets, and the melee fighters carved through the attackers in the wake of spells and arrows.

While the dreadfully exciting fight was happening, the dark being in the middle of the crater was just watching. Observing. Learning. Running its fingers along the edge of the metal disk that used to be a breastplate, sharpening the metal as it watched the waves of darkspawn become battlefield carnage.

A deafening roar was heard, and the darkspawn scrambled out of the way of an Ogre, as all four meters of muscle and angry, angry darkspawn charged out of the cave- only for a silver flash to appear at it's neck level. The battle seemed to stop as the ogre took another step, a look of obvious surprise on it's face, before collapsing like a puppet with it's strings cut, head rolling off the cleanly-severed neck.

The silver disk quivered as it vibrated, darkspawn blood staining the tree trunk it had embedded itself in, several meters above and behind the corpse.

Almost as one, the remainders of the horde turned towards the black-armored figure, and charged with a thunderous dischordinate howl.

Hawke bisected a charging genlock, and shouted to his teams. "Keep that thing safe!"

The being in the crater began to walk toward the charging horde. "Oh, don't get up on my account." As the first darkspawn approached- a hurlock, judging from it's size- the being casually reached up and grabbed it by the neck, then, with all the grace and finesse of a dancer, began swinging the hurlock around like a flail, liberally beating the other darkspawn into greasy heaps of foul-smelling meat and gristle.

After the first flail was rendered... Useless for bludgeoning, plates on the being's armored arms moved, to allow black tendrils to extend out, stab in the gruesome (but still living) hurlock, and dissolve the darkspawn into themselves.

Then it grabbed another darkspawn.

It repeated this three more times, until the horde began to retreat. Of course, these being darkspawn, they left a nasty rearguard- two ogres.

Hawke readied his sword, balancing the large blade on his shoulder, and signaled the others to ready themselves for a fight.

Merril put her staff away. "I don't think he's going to need our help, Hawke."

The being jumped ten meters in the air, grabbed the horn of an ogre, and landed, dragging the ogre with it. Then the creature (because Hawke didn't think any human or elf could do such a thing) /punched/ through the ogre's skull. It's titanic body shuddered once, then collapsed, consumed by dark tendrils from the creature.

The other ogre, surprised by the being that had killed it's companion, let out a trumpeting roar before it slammed a fist down- and made the oddest squeaking noise when the fist was caught.

The being's arms had changed. No longer elegant and humanoid, covered in dull black armor that seemed more like the exoskeleton of a spider than anything else, but large and muscular, with two fingers and two thumbs, each the size of a man's leg around, and covered in spikes- the hands of a being that could easily crush rocks. It was not the only change- the being seemed more muscular, extra limbs seemed to be partially growing from it's body, only to melt back into the main limbs again. It looked awkward, but the smooth movement dissuaded that thought.

The fact that the other hand was also large, escaped everyone until it slammed into the body of the ogre, cratering it and sending the corpse smashing into the cliffside, where the large darkspawn slumped, making gurgling noises.

Calmly, the faceless being walked over to the darkspawn, it's body having returned to a more humanoid shape, and placed it's hand on the ogre's bloody remains of a chest. In seconds, black tendrils extended, the flesh of the corpse collapsing into itself, and soon the ogre was gone, with naught but a crater in the cliffside to mark it's passing.

Within seconds, the faceless being had walked over to the crack that the darkspawn had spilled out of, and began to write. With a clawed finger. In solid stone. It was writing warning signs, but in multiple languages.

"What the..." Varric breathed. "That's dwarven! And common. And elvish? I don't recognize that one-" he pointed at some of the words, "- but that other one looks like... Runes."

Hawke blinked. "Varric, I really hope you have an idea of what is going on right now, because I don't."

The dwarf swallowed. "I wish I knew, Hawke. Hey!" He shouted at the figure, still carving on the stone. "What are you doing?"

The answer he got back was flippant. "Can't you read?" It flicked it's clawed fingers, scattering rock chips all over the walls.

Varric looked at the words this time- and noticed that, of the words he could read, he was seeing the same message, repeated in multiple languages. "Warning," he read it aloud- the dwarf was very aware of how many people in the group were literate. Fenris was not. "This crevice may be an entrance to a darkspawn-infested route in the Deeproads. Stay away."

Hawke nodded, then shook his head. "Ok, what the hell?"

John was incredibly amused. The darkspawn were interesting- their memories and minds were alien, but on a framework that should not support that activity. Well, if you could call that- it was as if a normal mind was being suppressed somehow. Twisted by a foreign presence. Still, he thought, they were edible, and they were infectious (a really nasty bug, the likes of which he had never tasted before)- almost spicy.

Hah! As if anything could infect him. He was BlackLight, and he devoured his enemies.

Turning his attention back to the others- they were an interesting bunch. The Templars and mages he had devoured (such odd titles) had given him a wealth of knowledge about this world, it's languages, species, customs, and most of all, about magic.

He was still cataloging the memories.

However, first impressions were important, and he recognized that he may have made the... Not-ideal first impression. Devouring two ogres before those assembled may have been a little off putting. Ok, he admitted to himself, more than a little. They were still debating amongst themselves, and the blond human Mage was rather freaked out. Still! He could salvage this.

John had no intention of being on the receiving end of the small elf's freeze-spell (cone of cold).

Carefully, he formed a human face underneath the armor, drew away the excess biomass so that he could pull the helmet back, and formed a latch on the underside. Delicately, he 'unlocked' the latch, and pulled the armored faceplate back over his head, as if it was on hinges.

Hawke watched the figure fumble, and pull back it's full-face helmet. He was listing to the growing concern of the people behind him, and watching the figure pull off it's helmet, thinking that there was something just slightly wrong about it...

"I'm telling you, Aveline, we must kill that thing!" Anders was freaking out.

"I..." Aveline was, for once, not sure of her course of action. "I don't know, Anders."

"Come on! Even if it is not demonic- considering how it killed those darkspawn, and considering where all the Templars and Mages that beat us here went, I don't want to risk it!" His eyes were wide, and slightly glowing in terror. "I can feel the magic in that thing, but no Fade! All things that dream touch the fade a little, and that thing doesn't!"

"Not at all?" Fenris was, for once, not on a 'murder all magical beings' spree. He sounded cautious. "Regardless, we might not be able to kill it in the first place."

Anders rounded on the scarred elf. "You really think we can't kill it?"

"Even if we did... He might not appreciate us trying." Merrill's voice had a slightly far-away quality that indicated that she was in deep thought. "I really don't think that's his face, but it's better than the dark mirror."

Varric looked at the figure in the crater- he (now that his face was visible) wasn't moving from where he stood, but he was smiling. "Daisy," he said, never taking his eyes off the smiling armored human, "remember what we talked about regarding 'information that no-one should know'?"

"Yes?"

Varric could hear the focus in her voice. "That applies to when you think people's faces are not their faces." He said with a smirk.

"Ah." Audible relief from the petite elf. "I think I understand."

"Good." Varric re-adjusted his crossbow. Then he saw Hawke plunge his slab-like sword into the ground, point first. "Hawke-" he warned, "- don't... Crap."

Hawke was now walking towards the armored figure.

John was proud of this face. It was a human face, with healthy olive skin, dark green eyes, and features that, while not handsome, were not, by any stretch of the imagination, ugly. It had taken him several years to sculpt, so that most people would not look twice when he was wearing sunglasses, but without them, people would pay rapt attention.

It certainly had the attention of the human who was walking towards him. Or he was just surprised that John was bald. Either one worked.

The approaching human- Hawke, according to the conversation John had been listening in on- stopped about two meters away, and stuck out his hand. "Hello."

John reached out, and took the offered hand in a handshake. "Hello." He made sure to smile. And not to blink.

Hawke desperately wanted the other man to stop smiling. It was creepy, the way he never blinked, and the smiling somehow, made it worse. He could feel his eyes watering on the being's behalf. "So-" he began, "who are you?

The being's smile increased further, somehow. "No-Face. And yourself?"

Hawke was unsettled more by the name. "I am Garret Hawke."

No-Face inclined his head. "Nice to meet you." He looked over Hawke's shoulder. "And who are you?"

Hawke turned, and saw Merrill, just standing there, innocently.

She smiled. "Hi No-Face! I am Merrill. What are you?"

No-Face laughed. "Straight to the point- I like that." He cleared his throat. "I am whoever, and whatever, I choose to be."

"Ah... I was like that, once." She said, causing both Hawke and No-Face's eyebrows to raise. "I ate some slightly-poisonous mushrooms, and for a while I thought I was a goat." She explained. "Not really sure why I thought I was a goat, but it was fun until I tried to eat part of my own staff."

Both men stared at her.

"It shocked me."

No-Face started chuckling. "Well... It's not quite like that, but... That sounded interesting."

"Ooohh- it was! I kept head butting things, and I tried to scratch my horns- like the Halla- but I didn't have any horns to scratch." Her face was only innocent honesty. "It frustrated me terribly. You don't think of much when you're a goat."

No-Face cracked up, closely followed by Hawke.

Cassandra scowled. "You said I would need a drink?"

Varric shrugged. "I guess you needed to be there..." He took another drink. "The offer remains open, by the way."

Cassandra settled back in her seat, her armor shimmering slightly in the candlelight. "I'll manage."

End Chapter 0
Quote of the day: "Hard in Hightown: Siege Harder? Varric must be stopped." -Garret Hawke

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I intend to write more on this story line- it has great promise in entertainment, and I have an excuse to play the dragon age games again.

Please review- they feed my muse.