A/N: I apologise in advance for any grammatical or typographical error that there may be in this story. I've made numerous sweeps, but there's always one that manages to slip through the cracks.

I know it's not professional to… professional? I'm not getting paid for this. Well, enjoy everybody, this is the second chapter.

XXxxXX

Audio Message
2249hrs – November 5th, 2175 (Standard Alliance Military Calendar)
From: First Lieutenant Adam Winston Shepard
To: Captain Hannah Eve Shepard

Hey mom, I just – uh… I just wanted to tell you that… that I made it out okay [clearsthroat]. Our bird was shot down a few klicks short of the LZ. Those batarian bastards nailed us to the wall. [Sighs] They were throwing everything they had at us, and for a while… we held out. But eventually it was just down to me, and Maria.

[Clears throat] I watched Maria die, bullet clipped her neck. She pretty much died there and then. Hell of an induction mission, huh? [Laughs dryly] My first command and I lose everyone because our bird was shot down. I didn't order them to their deaths, and I didn't know if their sacrificed made a difference. I like to think that we bought the civilians some time to evacuate, but seeing how they had the men to throw at us – doubtful. But out of all this… I got an N-Seven recommendation.

God, I don't even know what I did to get this… I thought it was some twisted joke at first, but seeing Anderson's face, I knew it was real. Mom, I really don't know what this means. I lost everyone… and they're sending me back to N-School for more training.

XXxxXX

The Hanged Man
Lowtown

Dinner had been a short affair, which eventually moved onto gambling and drinking. Adam hadn't been much of a drinker; sure he enjoyed the occasional Serrice Ice Brandy with Dr Karin Chakwas, but he was an N7 Officer.

There was a culture amongst the N6s and N7s; "if you can't take it without having a drink… you're not cut out for it." Leaders had to be prepared to accept and live with the consequences of their actions. Drowning out their sorrows in drink or blocking it out with narcotics was seen as stupid and weak.

A cruel and harsh, but necessary culture.

If anyone was experiencing troubles or difficulties, it was encouraged that they seek help from their peers and not some bar.

Shepard believed in that allegorical rule wholeheartedly, because at the end of the day "you have to live with yourself." So instead of hanging around, Adam decided to leave.

"Where are you going?" Isabela asked.

"Out," he answered.

"Hawke's not going to like that," Varric frowned.

"Hawke's not in command," Adan retirted,

Wrapping up whatever equipment he had placed down, Shepard left the room and crossed through the main area. Some of the sober patrons eyed him warily, but paid him no real attention. It was far too late in the night, and many thought he could be some kind of high ranking Templar. For whatever the reason they left him alone, Adam didn't care, it worked and that was good enough for him.

Pushing the main doors apart, Shepard stepped out onto the streets. He could hear the wind howling through the shacks, and smell the whiff of sea salt, mixed with a decaying foulness. Shepard knew the importance of planning. He hated improvising blindly, it left too much room for error – yet senior officers said he had a talent for playing things by ear.

Unlike the vids and movies, where the hero and his or her elite cadre of soldiers, rushed into enemy territory all guns blazing, Alliance Special Forces prided itself on meticulous planning, supported by dozens of contingency fall-backs. Force multiplier had been part of humanity's combat doctrine since the beginning of modern warfare.

He walked along the edge of the platform walkway, overlooking the warehouses, homestead and harbour bellow. The smell of the sea wafted through, as he focused his gaze onto the stars. He wanted to go home, but he knew not how.

Adam found a quiet clearing, overlooking the harbour; it was flanked by two trees, and adorned by garden vines. He couldn't help but noticed the warped iron gratings which stood along the ledge like jagged teeth. Kirkwall was a city of despair and destitute, that much he could tell.

Sitting down on the bench, he set his helmet onto his lap, and watched the moonlight illuminate the matte colour scheme. Alliance Onyx with a tinge of blue, and a red stripe accompanied by white boarders.

A three year journey had finally come to a close, and he was at the start of a new one. Only this time, there was no familiar face by his side. His fingers dug for the chain around his neck, pulling it off, he cupped the dog tags given to him on day one.

He ran his gloved thumb across the engravings of a name he held so dear to him, Sarah. In a way, he wished death had claimed him, he wished he could see her again. But maybe she was looking out for him. Either way, he missed her.

…

Lowtown

Hawke had left Gamlen's home and slowly walked the streets. She felt a heavy emptiness inside of her, as if her chest was going to cave in on itself.

As she took in the sea air, her eyes were casted on a small garden like area.

"Shepard?" she called.

The figure slowly inclined his head to the right. It was him. He had his back to her, to the road. For a warrior like him, that didn't seem right. Every fighter had to be aware of their surroundings. Yet he had his back to the road. Maybe he knew something she didn't? He certainly showed some kind of prophetic foresight to tell her that there was ambush waiting for them on the way back to Kirkwall.

Walking across the garden path, Hawke made her way to the bench, and eased her weight onto the timber slab. Looking at him, she could see his eyes were turned to the stars. His expression was relaxed, revealing his softer features. She had never seen anyone look up at the sky with such knowing awe and longing. It was like he knew something that the rest of Thedas didn't. Marian could see it in Shepard's blue eyes, there was a sliver of sadness in a sea of swirling emotions.

"I thought you'd be back at the Hanged Man," Hawke said, trying to start a conversation.

"Not my style," he said in his deep voice.

His accent was different, it was hard to say where he was from, but she still could understand him.

In his palm were three small metal plates, linked to a thin chain. The moonlight glinted off the top plate, revealing the engravings with a deep sentimental value.

Captain Sarah Thornton.

"If you don't have a place to stay, I could find a place for you," Marian offered.

Shepard slowly turned to face her, his blue eyes locking with hers warily.

"What am I to you?" he asked. "Why are you helping me?"

Hawke gave a short sad laugh, her crest fallen expression remaining on her features.

"Because I want to," she shrugged. "I know what it's like to have nothing, to be on the run."

There was a short pause before Shepard spoke again.

"How can you trust me?"

Is he trying not to make me trust him?

"Do I have a reason not to?"

Shepard averted his gaze to the grass beneath him, before looking back at her.

"No," he shook his head.

"Commander, where are you from?" Marian asked, using his title.

His brow ridge slowly furrowed as he pursed his bottom lips.

"Out there," he said, looking at the stars.

Marian looked at him, puzzled.

"You're an angel?" she asked incredulously.

A soft half chuckle left Adam's chest as a small smile formed on his features. He shook his head.

"Flattered… but no, I'm not," he said.

"But…"

"Hold on," he interrupted.

Lifting a hand to his ear, he raised his other arm. The orange gauntlet morphed back into existence once more. Marian could see the finer details of this magic. The gauntlet hummed, its surface covered in a grid of lines or seams between glowing and transparent ember plates. On his hand was a circular disk, with his fingers secured around them.

As he moved his hands back and forth, a rectangle appeared before him. Symbols she didn't understand began to roll along the screen, mixed with English letters. In the centre of the panel was a disk with a green spinning needle. There was a dot emanating at the upper section. Next to the disk was what appeared to be a line climbing and diving erratically.

Shepard's lips twitched as a genuine expression of happiness began to appear. She could hear it in his breath. Without a word, he pulled his head, and adjusted the hood/mask. Grabbing his weapon, he immediately got up, and started running.

He was fast, very fast. Not even the most skilful rogues could move with such speed. Hawke barely managed to keep up… barely – because she was cheating. After all… Apostates ran in the family.

Sprinting through the streets of Lowtown, Marian could feel her legs ache and her muscles cry out in defiance. Her ragged breath filled her ears, but she wanted to know what got Shepard so excited. He was an enigma to her.

"Shepard wait!" she cried.

He didn't stop, he probably couldn't hear her.

Against all rationale reasoning, Hawke decided to follow him. There was no reason to follow him, except for the fact she was curious… curious enough to get herself killed. She knew she shouldn't be making decisions like this, but she had already condemned Bethany to a life of hell, because the two of them wanted to get their mother back into nobility.

Blast it all, she thought.

One more on her list of stupid things she had done, wasn't going to hurt.

…

Outside Kirkwall

Marion wondered what the chances were of Templars discovering that she was an Apostate. She had barrelled through patrolled gateways, almost tackled a guardsmen patrol to the ground, and probably knocked over half a dozen crates in the process.

Probably low considering that no one saw her face in the dark.

Standing outside the stables, she was going to add another thing to her growing list of stupidity.

She spotted a male black stallion, and quickly ran to the sleeping horse. Gently, she stroked the top of his head, gently waking him up.

His big black eyes blinked open, and soon quickly turned to fear.

"Efilinere," Hawke whispered, stroking his fur.

The black stallion snorted and nuzzled her back. Wasting no time, she mounted the stallion, took control of the reigns and sped after Shepard.

His endurance seemed unending, she could feel the horse tire, but Shepard did not falter. He led her through a swamp. The stallion came to a crawl as he struggled through the undergrowth.

"Be strong and swift," she whispered to her steed, stroking his neck.

The horse pressed on with renewed vigour, being a mage certainly had its perks.

But Shepard was putting distance between them. She could only see the streaks of blue light through the darkness. He hadn't dared use his powers when he was near Kirkwall, but now there was no one to see him do it.

Lifting up a hand, she casted another spell. A fine mist left her hands and touched the waters, instantly turning them into ice. She steered the stallion on to the ice road, and smiled as she heard the satisfying sound of the hooves clashing against the rock hard surface.

"He's getting away, move faster," Hawke urged.

The horse leapt in full power, nearly soaring through the air. Eventually they broke the swamp and into woodlands.

Marian waved her hand once more, casting a warm light into the night. The flames in her palm flickered as the winds whipped past.

She willed the horse to charge up the slopes, hurdling over fallen trees and crashing through the bushes. Upon reaching the ridgeline, she found the Commander lying on his stomach amongst the rocks. He was using the telescope on his weapon to survey the valley below.

By Andraste…

Her eyes stared out into the burning wasteland. Gigantic husks of metal towered over the fields of flaming mounds and twisted bodies. It was as if a war between the gods had raged across the lands without restraint.

Metal structures of glowed red hot, smouldering in the grass.

Some had an artistic elegance and grace, their hulls curved graciously, and was trimmed with silver. Other ships were a bit more angular, covered in a livery of crimson red and bone white. And a smaller number, the ships' design were a combination of both and wore the colours of blue and white. But what stood out to her, were the eerie violet teeth.

"What is this?" she asked, dismounting her steed.

"A war…" Shepard said, before trailing off.

She wasn't surprised that he knew. Everything he wore seemed to fall into place with what she saw. The subtle nuances in design, and the look of familiarity on Shepard's body language, it all made sense.

"Anderson, do you copy?" he whispered.

Marian began to wonder if he was crazy.

"Who are you talking to?" she asked.

Shepard raised a slight hand, silencing her questions.

"Alright, hang tight, we're coming in… linked up with the locals… middle ages… not middle aged, middle age as in medieval… I know. Stay put."

Hawke looked at him quizzically.

"Why'd you even follow?" he asked.

There was no hostility to his tone, just a bit of surprise and slight confusion.

"I'm asking myself that too," Hawke answered.

"I can't guarantee your safety," he said.

Marian gave him a slight frown as she arched an eyebrow.

"I'll be fine."

He pulled the helmet over his head, followed by an audible hiss.

"If you're coming, stay close."

Raising his crossbow-like weapon, he advanced down the hill. Marian looked at how he moved; short movements in the legs, placing his heels down just in front of his tows. Maybe it was a way to keep his aim steady.

He didn't walk in a straight line, always staying close to the wreckages. She knew it was all for a purpose. He wanted to minimise the chance that he'd be hit by an arrow or spell. Shepard moved with a brutal efficiency that was rare in most warriors.

As they ran across the burning grounds, Marian could feel the heat through her leather armour. Shepard made a gesture with his left arm, open palm, waving down. It didn't take a scholar to know that he was telling her to reduce her stance and stay low.

The flames from the wreckages were bright enough to give them away.

A group of heavily armoured warriors in white and gold livery ran across the field in front of them. She wondered if they were allies, but she doubted it.

They too carried crossbow-like weapons, but of different design. Raising the launchers, amber flames leapt from one end. Their arms shook as the weapons barked.

Shepard moved to a wall, steading himself on the adjacent crate. His weapon hissed and cracked, the air around the end of the tube seemed to waver like the plains on a hot summer's day.

"What the hell?" one of them cried, his voice too crackled to sound human.

"Over there!" another one bellowed. "Take him out!"

Half the warriors turned to face Marian and Shepard.

"Stay there," he barked.

The world around her seemed to explode, the cacophony of battle soon filling her, but this was not something she was familiar with. She had fought mages before, but not at this number, and not like the way how Shepard fought them.

He was in his element, no stranger to the alien arts of warfare being displayed before her.

Eldritch danced and darted along his body, sapphire blue and dark violet merging into a powerful beam of immense power. It was almost hypnotic watching him fight. The devastation he caused easily surpassed that of any mage she had seen, and his precision was greater than any rogue she had met.

The warriors clad in white and gold turned to face the man in black and red. The enemy fighters were armed with crossbows – without the bow. Blue flame leapt from the tube of their weapons, accompanied by a loud thunder clap. Where they hurling bolts at one another? Or spells beyond her comprehension?

Shepard strafed left and right, crouching behind the rocks and burning metal. The dirt around the Commander was kicked up into the air, the metal near him sparked and crackled, like hammers striking steel.

"Stay in cover!" he bellowed to her.

He aimed his weapon, the pipe hissing and the air wavering. A warrior in white shook violently, as an invisible hand tore through his armour and pulverised the flesh beneath. Hawke watched him fell. She saw the charcoal black tint of his helmet, and the demonic red glow in the visor slit.

"Keep him pinned and move up!" their leader barked.

There was an electric crackle to his voice, an off worldly eeriness to it.

Shepard focused on the warrior with the gold helmet. A ball of raw energy collected at the base of his palms. Retracting back his arm, he then hurled it with all his might. The bolt streaked towards the target, engulfing the leader in blue flame.

The man roared and screamed, shaking violently as his muscles clenched in on him. Another bolt left Shepard's palm, and in a heartbeat, the man was ripped asunder with an echoing thump. Those around him were tossed like dolls, crashing into the slabs of metal or skidding along the dirt.

"Keep the fire on him!" another warrior in white ordered.

What is that supposed to mean?

Hawke had never heard that expression before. Were they actually launching spells at one another? Or was magic infused with the conventional arts of combat, like she did?

"Bravo, flank…"

"EEEREAAAHEEEAAEE!"

A screech ripped across the battlefield. The warriors seemed to froze where they stood, looking frantically for the horrific scream.

"Banshee!" one of them cried. "Put some fire on her!"

There was that sound again. The ominous humming and crackling of something off worldly – just like the sound that emanated from Shepard whenever he tapped into his gifts.

She saw a blue light streak across the battlefield, savage energy licking the air around it. The cobalt orb darted back and forth, before a hideous creature winked into existence. Its shape was like a demonic woman. It could've been a desire demon, but desire demons had a certain physical attractiveness about them.

This creature was horrific beyond words. Her height easily dwarfed the Qunari, her pale grey skin had shrivelled, revealing her bony structure. Hawke could see the hollow black eyes, the bloated stomach and the drooping breasts. She could feel the Banshee's eyes gaze upon her, see the huge teeth glint, and the flabby cheeks stretch and shake like dough. Flared tentacles like a dead birch tree were spread across her head, long arms with long fingers and claws, emphasised fear and decay.

Metal nodes were attached on the creature's form, her "womanly" assets covered by strobing blue lights.

The Banshee raised her arm, generating a sphere of pure white, with sparks of blue, and cast it on a warrior in white. The unfortunate man screamed and thrashed in pain, literally dissolving into nothingness.

"Stay down, Hawke," Shepard hissed, pushing her behind a huge slab of metal.

She watched as Shepard tweaked his crossbow-like weapon. It clicked as the tube at the end split apart, revealing a smaller tube within.

"Cover your ears," he said.

Marian did as she was told. She heard the high pitched wine of a dog seep from the weapon, increasing in tone until it became unnatural. Shepard's stance tensed for the briefest of moments, until a fiery flame leapt from pipe. The fire was like a long forged tongue of a snake, the air around it seemed to wave.

Every time she saw the flash, she felt her body shake and her chest hammered from the sound. No longer did it hiss like a serpent, but it roared like the god of thunder.

He had to be a demigod of some kind. He claimed he was not a mage, and yet here he was, honed with insurmountable years of warfare experience.

Shepard retreated back into cover. A ball of blue energy crashed into the metal slab, washing them both in a wave of crackling energy. He detached the curved box from his weapon, tucking it into a pouch. He produced another and inserted it into the slot.

He rose from cover, took aim, and soon the thunderous roar returned.

Whatever Shepard was fighting, it was able to take a horrific volume of punishment, or maybe it was as numerous as the blight. Either way, Marian had to help. He wasn't tearing through them like he had with the Blight in the Deep Roads. He was being conservative.

"The hell are you doing!" Shepard yelled.

Hawke leapt out into the open and held up her left arm. A blue orb splashed harmlessly against her protective shield, the warped waves rolling around her like water around rocks.

Shepard had already killed one of the screeching creatures – it's form screaming and dissolving before them, but another had made her way onto the battlefield, and behind her were more demonic beasts. Two had pipes protruding from its back; it looked like a spider and snail, rolled into one, with added sacks.

The dark ghostly blue lights on them weren't helpful either. The other creatures could only be described as metal-golem apes with an exploded reverse ribcage. Their eyes were dull and lifeless, yet spoke of the raw brutality they possessed. The guttural growl reminded her of lions.

Hawke tapped into her abilities. She let the power within her build up, and at the apex, she unleashed. One of the creatures exploded with a sickening crunch. Green sludge splashed onto the ground, wispy smoke curling up from the caustic pool.

The demons focused on her, she was the greater threat, not Shepard… or so they thought.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the thrum of a blue pulse. A bolt sailed through the air, and slammed one of the metal apes in the head. The brutish creature roared and howled, its head slowly ripped apart.

Hawke sent out another spell. A ball of fire left her palms and licked hungrily at the behemoth of a female demon. She continued to assault the creature with a flurry of spells. Sapphire spheres of pure energy leaping from her hands, slamming down onto her targets with savage energy.

She willed one of the crates into the air, hovering it above the mechanical ape advancing towards Shepard. It had its metal claws out, shielding itself from the Commander's abilities. Marian let the crate drop. The metal container came crashing down with such thunderous force, the head was vaporised before the body had even faltered.

Bloated creatures, like abominations appeared from the wreckages. Their arms seemed to hiss and click as red streaks stabbed her shields.

Marian filled the area with a tide of flame. The creatures thrashed for the briefest of moments, then fell still as the fire claimed them.

Shepard concentrated on the larger ones, his body strobed with a dark violent energy.

"Push forward," he bellowed.

The orange-amber shield formed on his left gauntlet again. Streaks of red slashed across the hexagonal surface, sending ripples across its dimensions. Shepard kept his weapon stable and roaring. One of the bloated abominations had gotten too close, its ghostly blue face howled with arms outstretched.

Marian watched fleshy chunks fly off the creature as an invisible force tore it apart.

Shepard dealt the killing blow to the demonic gynoid creature. He blasted her head off with his abilities, letting the body crumble before ripping itself apart and collapsing into a pile of ash.

When the last creature fell, and the last blood curling cry flowed, everything fell quite once more. Only the sound of crackling fames and the stench of burnt flesh was left.

…

She's a mage? Shepard thought, surprised.

He turned to face her, but remained in his firing position, just in case. Hawke just stood there. Throughout the entire fight, she had only taken a few steps. She had directed the flow of battle. The spectacular flames had drawn the enemy to her.

She had made herself a target. Intentional or not, Adam couldn't decide if she was crazy or idiotic. Probably the former. Or maybe she was sane and knew exactly what she was doing.

Yeah… probably that one.

His eyes quickly glanced at her form; legs shoulder-width apart, stance strong, and facing the enemy with a slight angle for flexibility. Adam knew that she was no stranger to a fight; the calming grace of her movements was rare, almost angelic. Her short black hair still remained the same, slightly messy but un-tousled. Her armour remained spotless, her bow still hung on her back, and her longsword was still in its sheathe.

"What?" Hawke asked.

"Been holding out on me," Shepard shrugged.

"You look like you needed help."

"Thanks."

"What were they?" she asked, pointing to the twisted and mutated forms.

"Reapers," Shepard answered grimly.

Adam moved on, remaining close to the wreckage and always checking his corners. At least now he didn't have to worry about babying Hawke. She could take care of herself, which meant that he could add more aggression to his offense.

"Anderson, still with me?" Shepard keyed into his COMs.

"Still here. Might need some help getting out though."

"Copy, I'm a hundred metres away from your pos."

Adam made his way through another field of wreckage and twisted bodies. Some had been killed by gunshot wounds. Turian, asari, geth, quarian and human lay dead on the field, opposing them were the Reaper dead. However, there weren't any salarians or krogans. In fact, most of the allied dead were wearing shipboard fatigues instead of heavy armour.

"What are they?" Hawke asked.

"Allies," he answered.

Moving from body to body, he policed whatever he could, especially Omni-gel. He didn't need thermal clips.

Ever since the entire galactic shift to thermal clips, armies relied heavily on logistics even more. It was like Conrad had said, thermal clips were "a major step backwards" and Adam found himself agreeing with the eccentric scientist. Thankfully, numerous complaints from N7 Operatives had forced Command to have RnD find a way how to re-include in-gun cooling tech while at the same time allow soldiers to swap clips for continual fire.

The solution was to take after 21st Century weapon designs. Thermal clips were larger and came with their inbuilt cooling devices, allowing reuse in the field. Of course the weapon's ability to fold was sacrificed as the newer thermal clips required a new myriad of engineering equipment and stopping power. The end result was the SCAR – reserved for Alliance Special Forces working behind enemy lines without backup.

Shepard kept his rifle at the ready, and kept his optics scanning the environment.

ADM David Anderson

The words flashed on his HUD, accompanied with a navpoint marker.

He still had to make his way through the labyrinth of crashed ships and hull sections. He wondered if there was anything useful in the wrecks.

Maybe a tank… or a shuttle… or maybe a working ship.

Rounding the remnants of a turian frigate's wings, Shepard came upon the site of Citadel sections. Out of the debris mound was an arm, clad in skin tight white and gold body suit – a Cerberus phantom.

Taking a knee, Shepard picked up the monomolecular blade and examined it. It seemed to be in working order.

"Here," he offered to Hawke. "Take it."

"I've got my own," she said, pointing to her longsword.

"Trust me, this is better quality."

Marian accepted the offer and took it from Shepard's armoured hands. She tucked the blade into her quill, not the most conventional of places, but it was better than having it unsheathed on her belt.

Climbing up the mound of Citadel debris, the Spectre planted himself firmly on a lateral support bar.

"Anderson!" Shepard called again.

His optics picked up movement in the rubble pile.

"I'm here!"

"Hang on, we'll try and get you out."

"Alright."

Adam took a step back and looked at the grey chunk of metal. He looked towards Hawke and beckoned her over.

"I'm going to need your help," he said.

"Sure."

"On my mark, we lift that slab off, got it?"

"Yes," she answered with a nod.

Adam drew in a deep breath, and let the dark energy flow through him. He pushed on the metal slab and felt it move.

"Go."

He heard a soft hum as Hawke's gift came into play. The slab grew lighter and eventually, he felt it slip from his grip and tumbled down the side with a resounding crash.

Anderson clambered out of the opening and stepped into the light of an early dawn. Adam could see the gaunt tiredness in the Admiral's eyes.

"Aren't you a sight, Shepard," he smiled.

"Damn good to see you too," the Spectre said, shaking hands.

"Who's this?" Anderson asked, referring to the mage.

"I'm Marian Hawke," she said.

"The local," Adam interjected.

"Long story I suppose?"

"Long story," Shepard nodded.

"Well…" Anderson began to cough, covering his mouth.

His chest heaved as his body spasmed with dry hacks.

"Anderson?" Adam quickly rushed to his mentor's side and eased the Admiral onto the secure deck.

Hawke quickly came to his side, and hovered her hand over the bullet wound.

The Commander brought up his Omni-tool and performed a medical scan.

"Looks bad, but you'll make it."

"Dammed if I'm dying now," David said with a dry laugh.

"This shouldn't take too long," Marian said.

"What sh…"

A soft emerald glow danced from her hands and latched onto the Admiral. The green vines flowed into the opening in his armoured vest and into the wound.

Adam placed a firm grip on Anderson's shoulders, but at the same time, allowed his right hand to drift to his sidearm.

But his caution proved unnecessary as he heard David's breathing return to normal, and the wound being closed with pale skin.

"Good to go?"

Anderson nodded.

Shepard looked at Marian, "thanks."

"What's the situation, then?" the Admiral asked, silently including his question about what just happened.

"Unknown planet, magic, and we need supplies… I only got here last week."

"I woke up two hours ago... we can talk about this later. Let's see what we can find."

By now the sun had just cleared the horizon, casting its morning light onto the valley. Panning across the vast plains of wreckages, Shepard frowned inwardly.

Most of the ship sections were the result of the brutal naval battle. Most likely all ground ordinances would've been delivered to Earth, chances of finding a tank was slim, and likewise could be said for working shuttles.

Performing another scan with his optics, Shepard picked out a few more key points of interests which could have vital supplies or anything of use. He marked two crashed Cerberus Kodiak Drop Shuttles, five escape pods and two Alliance containers.

…

By the time they were done, the sun was high in the sky. Shepard's skin crawled and tingled whenever he got too close to Reaper tech, and it seemed that Hawke was no exception. All the blood just drained from her face whenever she got to close, making her look ill.

Anderson was not as adversely affected, but still showed plenty of discomfort.

The search had been fruitful. Two All-Terrain-Stealth Hoverbikes, a small trove of weapons plus maintenance and modification equipment, food packs, power generator units, Omni-gel and medi-gel. The most vital equipment was loaded onto the bikes and the horse, the rest they would have to come back for later.

Anything they couldn't take were put back into the containers and locked, lest they wanted some third party to have access to the guns.

"Let's head back," Shepard said.

XXxxXX

"Adam always had a smile on his face. He always wanted to help people. I never really understood why he became a soldier until now. When we were growing up, he'd always tried to be there for me. He'd use up his savings to buy a ticket to come visit me whenever he could. Always smiled a lot too. But when he graduated, he didn't laugh as much. Then Sarah came along, he began to smile more… until the day she died. But even though she was gone, he still held onto his belief of helping others. He was always in the thick of everything, and it was like death could never touch him. I guess the hardest part… is accepting that he's gone."
-Melanie Shepard, interviewed by Emily Wong

XXxxXX

A/N: I don't think I'll be including Sebastien, simply because there are already too many characters as is. I'll do my best to characterise all of them at the same rate, but I make no guarantees.

Anyway, Inquisition… looks very interesting.

One another note, please leave a review and tell me what you think.