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Title: Judgement
Author: AllForFire
Game: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Pairing/Characters: Female Qunari Inquisitor Mhyrra Adaar/ Sera (Though it isn't the focus of this particular piece.), Warden Surana, Roxanne Hawke, Magister Livius Erimond.
Disclaimer: Dragon Age characters, settings, and all in-game dialogue property of Bioware. I only own my Warden, Jolena Surana, my Hawke, Roxanne, and my wonderful Inquisitor, Mhyrra.^^
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All were gathered in the Great Hall of Skyhold, hushed murmurs and heated whispering filling the air.

Mhyrra, seated on the throne – there really was no better term for it – she had had fashioned out of the skull she and her friends themselves had felled, raised her hand for silence, which was quickly conjured. Lining the wall on each side were each of her companions. To her right stood Roxanne Hawke. And off to her left stood Jolena Suranna. Hero of Ferelden, and Warden-Commander of Ferelden.

Now Acting Warden-Commander of Orlais as well, thanks to the machinations of this…man currently being dragged before them, forced to into a slouch by the frog-march he was being subjected to.

She could feel them all clench their jaws a little tighter as Josephine took her place and began her usual formalities.

“Adamant’s influence continues, your Worship. I submit Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, remains loyal to Corypheus.” She turned to the snake in question as the guards finally stood him up a few feet before the dais, that smug arrogance still sparking in his cold eyes.

Mhyrra narrowed her eyes. Beside her, she could practically hear Jolena’s hands tightening around her greatsword, Vigilance, obviously wrestling with the temptation to lift it from the ground and cleave this monster in half, due process be damned.

“We found him alive, offering extreme resistance. Likely because the Order will ask for his head. In more…colourful terms.”

“As they should.” Jolena ground out beside her.

“To say nothing of justice you might personally require for what was suffered in the Fade.”

Her? Mhyrra hardly felt her own trouble at the hands of this wretch outweighed that of all innocents he had made suffer. Out of the corner of her eye, she say Sera shiver, no doubt vividly recalling what they went through in the Fade. She turned her scowl towards the loathsome toad, leaning forward menacingly.

“Many places, many people, felt the pain of Adamant. You will answer for a great deal.” She growled.

The man’s arrogance and delusion would not be swayed however.

“I recognize none of this proceeding. You have no authority to judge me.” He sneered.

Mhyrra glared right back, her blazing green eyes lancing into his own, cowing him enough for him to shirk back just a tad.

“On the contrary, many officials have communicated that they will defer to the Inquisitor on this matter.” Josephine declared.

“Because they fear. Not just Corypheus, but Tevinter, rightful ruler of every piece of ground you’ve trod in your pathetic lives!” The fool ranted.

In the crowd, Dorian palmed his face, shaking his head despondently.

Mhyrra’s silvery brows quirked, leaning her head onto her hand as a mocking smirk stretched across her face.

“Andraste would have something to say about that. So would the Blights, the Qunari, every soul you see before you, every man, woman and child with sense in their heads and who aren’t power-hungry egomaniacs drunk on past glory.” She tilted her head. “Hmm. Indeed, when one stops to ponder it, you Magisters, the old and the new, truly are nothing more than a pathetic pack of toothless blowhards.”

Approval and snickers echo across the crowd, Dorian grinning at both his friend’s wit and her ability to keep cool when faced with such drivel. Well said my friend.

Erimond however was livid, from both the (self-perceived) slander and the mockery of those assembled.

“I served a living god!” he raved, before standing straighter, seemingly determined to remain as defiant as possible right up to the end. “So bring down your blades and free me from the physical. Glory awaits me.”

All three Heroes of the Dragon Age grit their teeth, along with practically everyone else in the chamber. Hawke thumbed her staff, the jewel glinting with her withheld wrath. Jolena was shaking with fury, almost demanding with her eyes that Mhyrra give the word and let her sink Vigilance into this bastard. Part his head from his shoulders and incinerate his remains.

Mhyrra would have wanted nothing more. Except to join them in the effort of course. But she refused to give this monster the satisfaction. And besides, death would be far too sweet a recompense for all the death, despair and destruction he had wrought on so many, all in the name of his ego and that of his abomination of a master.

What was she to do then? Lock him up? That would serve no purpose beyond waste space on a parasite that did not deserve it.

A terrible thought occurred to her. The ultimate punishment for someone like him. After all, what better way to destroy the spirit of a Magister so proud of his deeds, magical prowess and the legacy of his forbearers, than to make sure he would never touch or feel them again? Would never feel anything again, forever condemned to an empty non-existence?

She knew such was a fate she would never wish on herself or anyone else.

At this, her heart shuddered. Could she truly do this? This creature before her deserved nothing less, but was she truly so wrathful that she, a mage, would inflict upon another the fate which all mages feared? That any would fear? That she herself abhorred with every fibre of her being?

…No. No, she would not deny, even to her worst enemy, that to which she fundamentally believed every living thing had the birth-given right: their essence, their very Soul. That some souls were rotten to the core and needed obliterating was another matter entirely, but if they were so, then may they be blasted while bearing the full weight of their choices.

And the choices, the crimes, the atrocities willingly committed by this dangerous thing of a man in front of her-

Her mind clicked, and she could not contain the malicious grin that broke across her visage. An expression so unusual that even her friends were confused, and just the little bit worried.

Was she really…?

“Lord Erimond.” She drawled. “Do you know what I am?”

Everyone looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. All except Erimond, arrogance still trumping his sense.

“You’re the pompous fool who thinks anything she does will matter in the-”

“I did not ask who I am, bastard.” She cut him off. “I am Mhyrra Adaar. No more and no less. I asked you what I am.” As she said this, she raised a finger to tap one of her horns.

Here some of his smug veneer finally seemed to bleed off, confusion seeping in.

“A…Qunari?”

Her grin grew downright sadistic.

“Technically speaking, I’m a Vashoth. Do you Tevinter toadstools even know of the difference? I imagine not. It means that, unlike the Tal-Vashoth, I never even knew the Qun, rather than having left it. But that does not mean I did not learn all I could of it, if only to be prepared. Of particular relevance to me, as I’m sure most of you can imagine, was the manner in which the Saarebas, the mages, are treated under the Qun. I’m sure you must know of that, at the very least.”

Spying Iron Bull, who literally stood out a good head taller amongst the crowd, she saw understanding illuminate his gaze, before his grin mirrored her own. Beside him, Dorian once again smiled at the clever thinking.

“And…what does that have to do with me?” The snake’s veneer was crumbling fast, realization building up, but not quite there yet.

“Oh come now. I was certain that such a mighty and cunning Magister such as yourself would have connected the dots by now. Shall I use smaller words?” She stood from her throne, drawing up to her full now-legendary height, slowly and deliberately descending the dais step by step.

“I. Am going to send you off to Par Vollen. To the Qun. As a “peace offering” for a…difference of opinion we suffered some time ago. With a letter explicitly saying who you are.”

Step.

“What you are.”

Step.

“What you’ve done.”

Step.

“And to whom you’ve done it.”

Step.

Now stood right before the now quivering wretch of a rat, towering over him, harlequin-green suns boring down imperiously at him.

“You’re a Magister, one of the Qunari’s sworn enemies, who has clearly shown he is both evil and serving a creature hell-bent on bringing an apocalypse. You nearly destroyed the Grey Wardens, one of the few organizations the Qun holds some respect for.

And from what a few little birdies have told me,” A glance at Leliana, Jolena, Bull and Varric, all of whom grinned back, “the new Arishok is a personal friend of both Ladies Suranna and Leliana, as well as King Alistair himself. So I’ll be sure to deliver you directly to the Antaam. Do you think he's going to take this affront towards his friends, his kadans, and their kin lightly?

If you have anymore oh-so-grandiose boasts to make, worm, then I suggest you speak now. You’ll find it quite hard, I’m sure, to do so once your mouth is sewn shut and your hands clamped together. Or perhaps they’ll skip that entirely and jump straight to handing you to the Tamassrans? Bit of advice: cave before they resort to the Qamek. I hear it’s…unpleasant.”

Her grin took on a predatory curl, and the vicious glint of her teeth made Erimond think a dragon was about to chomp him in half.

Cold sweat broke out across his form. He looked past the titan before him to see that red-headed elven Warden-Commander look at him with vindictive satisfaction, grass-green eyes burning with hate and victory. That coal-haired, teal-eyed was of a similar disposition, that red blood-smear stretching to give her an almost demonic visage as she condemned him with her glare and her smile.

And then back to her. It. This, this animal, this beast that stood before him, judging him, condemning him to a fate worse than death for most in the Imperial Magistrate. He began shaking from head to foot. Terror frothing up to the surface, his smugness and air of superiority completely shattered.

“Y-you cannot! I am a lord you pissants! I will not lose myself or be caged by you savages!”

Faster than the guards could seize him, he swung his bound hands out and up, that same red glow he’d tried to use to bind her at the ritual tower alighting.

Her own reflexes honed from years of prowess, Mhyrra caught the pitiful last-ditch strike with her left hand, her Anchor flaring to life the same as her temper. This time the red magic didn’t even faze her, her own magic too strong, her Will too great. She scowled fiercely, her left hand clutching his right in a bone-crunching grip, engulfing and smothering the spell.

“All you are…”

Tighter, the bones in his hand pulverized. He screams.

“Is a sodding…”

She twists, obliterating the wrist. His screams double.

“Mother-fucking…”

She grabs him by the throat with her other hand, clamping his screams shut and lifting until his toes barely scuffed the ground.

“Bitch-born CUNT!”

With that final roar, she lunged forward, slamming into him with a nose-shattering head-butt. Backwards he flew, landing a few feet further, crumpling to the ground, a broken, bleeding wreck sprawled across the floor, weakly whimpering as he barely clung to the edge of consciousness.

“Pathetic.” She spat, straightening. She turned to the guards, still just as awe-struck as everyone else in the room. “Get this pile of scum out of my sight. And start wrapping him up for the Arishok.” She paused for a moment. “And don’t forget the bow on top.”

Behind her, she swore she could hear Sera giggle, along with Leliana of all people. It made her smile, as she was sure Jolena, and many other were as well.

“Any who disagree with this judgement, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

None spoke. Her smile widened.

“Well then! Court adjourned!”

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Title: Judgement
Author: AllForFire
Game: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Pairing/Characters: Female Qunari Inquisitor Mhyrra Adaar/ Sera (Though it isn't the focus of this particular piece.), Warden Surana, Roxanne Hawke, Magister Livius Erimond.
Disclaimer: Dragon Age characters, settings, and all in-game dialogue property of Bioware. I only own my Warden, Jolena Surana, my Hawke, Roxanne, and my wonderful Inquisitor, Mhyrra.^^
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All were gathered in the Great Hall of Skyhold, hushed murmurs and heated whispering filling the air.

Mhyrra, seated on the throne – there really was no better term for it – she had had fashioned out of the skull she and her friends themselves had felled, raised her hand for silence, which was quickly conjured. Lining the wall on each side were each of her companions. To her right stood Roxanne Hawke. And off to her left stood Jolena Suranna. Hero of Ferelden, and Warden-Commander of Ferelden.

Now Acting Warden-Commander of Orlais as well, thanks to the machinations of this…man currently being dragged before them, forced to into a slouch by the frog-march he was being subjected to.

She could feel them all clench their jaws a little tighter as Josephine took her place and began her usual formalities.

“Adamant’s influence continues, your Worship. I submit Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, remains loyal to Corypheus.” She turned to the snake in question as the guards finally stood him up a few feet before the dais, that smug arrogance still sparking in his cold eyes.

Mhyrra narrowed her eyes. Beside her, she could practically hear Jolena’s hands tightening around her greatsword, Vigilance, obviously wrestling with the temptation to lift it from the ground and cleave this monster in half, due process be damned.

“We found him alive, offering extreme resistance. Likely because the Order will ask for his head. In more…colourful terms.”

“As they should.” Jolena ground out beside her.

“To say nothing of justice you might personally require for what was suffered in the Fade.”

Her? Mhyrra hardly felt her own trouble at the hands of this wretch outweighed that of all innocents he had made suffer. Out of the corner of her eye, she say Sera shiver, no doubt vividly recalling what they went through in the Fade. She turned her scowl towards the loathsome toad, leaning forward menacingly.

“Many places, many people, felt the pain of Adamant. You will answer for a great deal.” She growled.

The man’s arrogance and delusion would not be swayed however.

“I recognize none of this proceeding. You have no authority to judge me.” He sneered.

Mhyrra glared right back, her blazing green eyes lancing into his own, cowing him enough for him to shirk back just a tad.

“On the contrary, many officials have communicated that they will defer to the Inquisitor on this matter.” Josephine declared.

“Because they fear. Not just Corypheus, but Tevinter, rightful ruler of every piece of ground you’ve trod in your pathetic lives!” The fool ranted.

In the crowd, Dorian palmed his face, shaking his head despondently.

Mhyrra’s silvery brows quirked, leaning her head onto her hand as a mocking smirk stretched across her face.

“Andraste would have something to say about that. So would the Blights, the Qunari, every soul you see before you, every man, woman and child with sense in their heads and who aren’t power-hungry egomaniacs drunk on past glory.” She tilted her head. “Hmm. Indeed, when one stops to ponder it, you Magisters, the old and the new, truly are nothing more than a pathetic pack of toothless blowhards.”

Approval and snickers echo across the crowd, Dorian grinning at both his friend’s wit and her ability to keep cool when faced with such drivel. Well said my friend.

Erimond however was livid, from both the (self-perceived) slander and the mockery of those assembled.

“I served a living god!” he raved, before standing straighter, seemingly determined to remain as defiant as possible right up to the end. “So bring down your blades and free me from the physical. Glory awaits me.”

All three Heroes of the Dragon Age grit their teeth, along with practically everyone else in the chamber. Hawke thumbed her staff, the jewel glinting with her withheld wrath. Jolena was shaking with fury, almost demanding with her eyes that Mhyrra give the word and let her sink Vigilance into this bastard. Part his head from his shoulders and incinerate his remains.

Mhyrra would have wanted nothing more. Except to join them in the effort of course. But she refused to give this monster the satisfaction. And besides, death would be far too sweet a recompense for all the death, despair and destruction he had wrought on so many, all in the name of his ego and that of his abomination of a master.

What was she to do then? Lock him up? That would serve no purpose beyond waste space on a parasite that did not deserve it.

A terrible thought occurred to her. The ultimate punishment for someone like him. After all, what better way to destroy the spirit of a Magister so proud of his deeds, magical prowess and the legacy of his forbearers, than to make sure he would never touch or feel them again? Would never feel anything again, forever condemned to an empty non-existence?

She knew such was a fate she would never wish on herself or anyone else.

At this, her heart shuddered. Could she truly do this? This creature before her deserved nothing less, but was she truly so wrathful that she, a mage, would inflict upon another the fate which all mages feared? That any would fear? That she herself abhorred with every fibre of her being?

…No. No, she would not deny, even to her worst enemy, that to which she fundamentally believed every living thing had the birth-given right: their essence, their very Soul. That some souls were rotten to the core and needed obliterating was another matter entirely, but if they were so, then may they be blasted while bearing the full weight of their choices.

And the choices, the crimes, the atrocities willingly committed by this dangerous thing of a man in front of her-

Her mind clicked, and she could not contain the malicious grin that broke across her visage. An expression so unusual that even her friends were confused, and just the little bit worried.

Was she really…?

“Lord Erimond.” She drawled. “Do you know what I am?”

Everyone looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. All except Erimond, arrogance still trumping his sense.

“You’re the pompous fool who thinks anything she does will matter in the-”

“I did not ask who I am, bastard.” She cut him off. “I am Mhyrra Adaar. No more and no less. I asked you what I am.” As she said this, she raised a finger to tap one of her horns.

Here some of his smug veneer finally seemed to bleed off, confusion seeping in.

“A…Qunari?”

Her grin grew downright sadistic.

“Technically speaking, I’m a Vashoth. Do you Tevinter toadstools even know of the difference? I imagine not. It means that, unlike the Tal-Vashoth, I never even knew the Qun, rather than having left it. But that does not mean I did not learn all I could of it, if only to be prepared. Of particular relevance to me, as I’m sure most of you can imagine, was the manner in which the Saarebas, the mages, are treated under the Qun. I’m sure you must know of that, at the very least.”

Spying Iron Bull, who literally stood out a good head taller amongst the crowd, she saw understanding illuminate his gaze, before his grin mirrored her own. Beside him, Dorian once again smiled at the clever thinking.

“And…what does that have to do with me?” The snake’s veneer was crumbling fast, realization building up, but not quite there yet.

“Oh come now. I was certain that such a mighty and cunning Magister such as yourself would have connected the dots by now. Shall I use smaller words?” She stood from her throne, drawing up to her full now-legendary height, slowly and deliberately descending the dais step by step.

“I. Am going to send you off to Par Vollen. To the Qun. As a “peace offering” for a…difference of opinion we suffered some time ago. With a letter explicitly saying who you are.”

Step.

“What you are.”

Step.

“What you’ve done.”

Step.

“And to whom you’ve done it.”

Step.

Now stood right before the now quivering wretch of a rat, towering over him, harlequin-green suns boring down imperiously at him.

“You’re a Magister, one of the Qunari’s sworn enemies, who has clearly shown he is both evil and serving a creature hell-bent on bringing an apocalypse. You nearly destroyed the Grey Wardens, one of the few organizations the Qun holds some respect for.

And from what a few little birdies have told me,” A glance at Leliana, Jolena, Bull and Varric, all of whom grinned back, “the new Arishok is a personal friend of both Ladies Suranna and Leliana, as well as King Alistair himself. So I’ll be sure to deliver you directly to the Antaam. Do you think he's going to take this affront towards his friends, his kadans, and their kin lightly?

If you have anymore oh-so-grandiose boasts to make, worm, then I suggest you speak now. You’ll find it quite hard, I’m sure, to do so once your mouth is sewn shut and your hands clamped together. Or perhaps they’ll skip that entirely and jump straight to handing you to the Tamassrans? Bit of advice: cave before they resort to the Qamek. I hear it’s…unpleasant.”

Her grin took on a predatory curl, and the vicious glint of her teeth made Erimond think a dragon was about to chomp him in half.

Cold sweat broke out across his form. He looked past the titan before him to see that red-headed elven Warden-Commander look at him with vindictive satisfaction, grass-green eyes burning with hate and victory. That coal-haired, teal-eyed was of a similar disposition, that red blood-smear stretching to give her an almost demonic visage as she condemned him with her glare and her smile.

And then back to her. It. This, this animal, this beast that stood before him, judging him, condemning him to a fate worse than death for most in the Imperial Magistrate. He began shaking from head to foot. Terror frothing up to the surface, his smugness and air of superiority completely shattered.

“Y-you cannot! I am a lord you pissants! I will not lose myself or be caged by you savages!”

Faster than the guards could seize him, he swung his bound hands out and up, that same red glow he’d tried to use to bind her at the ritual tower alighting.

Her own reflexes honed from years of prowess, Mhyrra caught the pitiful last-ditch strike with her left hand, her Anchor flaring to life the same as her temper. This time the red magic didn’t even faze her, her own magic too strong, her Will too great. She scowled fiercely, her left hand clutching his right in a bone-crunching grip, engulfing and smothering the spell.

“All you are…”

Tighter, the bones in his hand pulverized. He screams.

“Is a sodding…”

She twists, obliterating the wrist. His screams double.

“Mother-fucking…”

She grabs him by the throat with her other hand, clamping his screams shut and lifting until his toes barely scuffed the ground.

“Bitch-born CUNT!”

With that final roar, she lunged forward, slamming into him with a nose-shattering head-butt. Backwards he flew, landing a few feet further, crumpling to the ground, a broken, bleeding wreck sprawled across the floor, weakly whimpering as he barely clung to the edge of consciousness.

“Pathetic.” She spat, straightening. She turned to the guards, still just as awe-struck as everyone else in the room. “Get this pile of scum out of my sight. And start wrapping him up for the Arishok.” She paused for a moment. “And don’t forget the bow on top.”

Behind her, she swore she could hear Sera giggle, along with Leliana of all people. It made her smile, as she was sure Jolena, and many other were as well.

“Any who disagree with this judgement, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

None spoke. Her smile widened.

“Well then! Court adjourned!”