Amy Dallon, Herald of Andraste

Kylia Quilor · 2025-03-24T01:18:40+00:00

Author's Note: This story is a crossover (in the form of an Isekai) between Worm, and Dragon Age: Inquisition. While the only character from Worm actually 'appearing onscreen' will be Amy Dallon AKA Panacea, the teenage healing superheroine with more issues than a Hudson News and more Baggage than an Airport, Amy's many many issues will be pretty central to the story and since most of the story will be her POV, central to what you the reader see. As such, people who only know Dragon Age will probably be somewhat lost, but you're welcome to give the fic a go and see how you feel. I'm always happy to answer questions. Worm fans shouldn't need to have much familiarity with Dragon Age to appreciate this fic, as most things about Thedas will be revealed to Amy as the story goes on. But feel free to ask questions. If you know both media, great, welcome aboard! While given that this takes Amy from mid-Arc 5 of Worm, give or take, it shouldn't matter as much, I will make clear that my general policy on Wildbow's Words of God and the text of Ward is that I'll incorporate facts from either into my understanding of the characters as derived from the text of Worm on a very case-by-case basis. My interpretation of Amy is primarily derived from the text of Worm, and is in keeping with my understanding of the character in said text. You may or may not agree with said interpretation, Amy is a fairly divisive character, with many mutually incompatible understandings of her. I will listen to all good faith critique or suggestions about how to get her right, but it may be that our understandings of her differ. Happens. In the interest of honesty, If you're one of those people who thinks Amy cannot get better or think she's a fundamentally bad person even before her breakdown in and after Interlude 11h, you may want to not read this fic. This fic is and will be sympathetic to Amy... she will be a bitch a good bit... just not only a bitch. Critique that just consists of accusations that I am writing 'Woobie Amy' will be summarily laughed at and ignored. Again, Constructive, good faith criticism about the characterization of Amy or anyone else is always welcome, though I may not ultimately agree with it. All other forms of constructive criticism are also welcome, with the same caveat. Also, Amy Dallon can do plants in this fic. If that bothers you, the back button is right there. Finally, this story and indeed the larger series will spend a great deal of time on Amy's many, many issues - from her self-loathing, to her issues with overwork and burnout, her fear of her power, her belief she's damned to be a villain like her biological father, her romantic feelings and attraction to her adoptive sister, her relationship with her adoptive mother, et cetera. Especially early on, it may feel fairly repetitive in that regard, as Amy is prone to spiraling cycles of anxiety and guilt. As the fic goes on, and she has more separation from her toxic home life and starts to get a handle on things, she will get better. She will never be entirely 'fixed', because that's not how anything works. But she will get better, and her various issues will start to move into the background and get less focus - she may still have bad days and bad thoughts, et cetera, but they will get less and less screen time. With all that out of the way (and thanks to Null for beta-reading this chapter), on with the fic! Amy Dallon, Herald of Andraste By Kylia Chapter 1 The first thing Amy noticed as she slowly felt herself waken was the cold, hard stone under her. Hard to miss, really. The next thing was a sudden, sharp stabbing feeling in her hand. She cried out, pulling her hand towards her, trying to curl up around it, screwing her still-closed eyes shut tighter as if that would help, and that's when she noticed the manacles around her wrists, connected by a length of chain. Amy's throat clenched, heart stilled for a moment as she registered that thought, registered what chains meant. You didn't chain someone who wasn't a prisoner. Her eyes snapped open, the pain in her hand fading out, dulling. She was lying almost facedown on some sort of stone floor. She heard breathing nearby, she wasn't alone. She felt her pulse race, breath quickening now. Where am I? Why am I chained? Amy looked around as much as she could, trying to calm her breathing, trying to stop from panicking, trying to - The room she was in was all stone - stone blocks or bricks under her, what she could see of the walls, except for a wooden door with a barred window. Whole space was lit by flicking torches - torches! - along the walls, but that fire didn't really do much to make the room feel any warmer. "She's awake," she heard a voice - it sounded almost British, but not. Definitely English though. She looked to the source of it, and saw a man in some sort of leather armor - maybe more metal bits, but a coat was covering most of his torso - and a metal helmet, all right out of a fantasy movie. No, not one man, she realized, as she heard footsteps from all around her. She turned her head to the side, still flat on the ground, and saw another one. They had swords on their belts too, and then with an almost uniform sound, she heard them all being drawn. "Get up. On your knees," one of them barked. "Move slowly," he added. This one wasn't the one who had spoken earlier, or the one she was looking at now. Amy sucked in air again, then struggled to comply, not wanting to feel like what those swords would be like. Swords - who the fuck used swords? Chevalier did, right? But his was, like, some weird gun-sword thing? Maybe? Wasn't that what Vicky had said once? Sometimes people with certain powers used swords, but there were at least three people here, two of them wearing similar armor - Tinkertech alloys? Into swords? That - Amy pushed herself up into a kneeling position, gasping as the pain in her hand flared again for a moment - just a moment - and she realized now her left hand was covered in glowing green lines. "What the fuck?" Amy felt herself say, not even realizing she was saying it until she was done. "The prisoner is awake!" The one that had demanded she get on her knees said, raising his voice. She heard more footsteps, someone running on the other side of the door. Prisoner. She was a prisoner. Why was she a prisoner? She closed her eyes again, trying - and failing - to stop herself from hyperventilating as she tried to - remember. She hadn't - This wasn't the PRT. This wasn't - this wasn't the Birdcage. They didn't throw you away because they knew what you could do, what you are, what you're really like- Amy bit the inside of her cheek, trying - and failing - to control her breathing. She was a prisoner. She didn't know who had her - it wasn't the PRT or E88 or the ABB... definitely not the Merchants. What was the last thing she remembered? Hospital. That - that old Chinese guy. He'd had one of Bakuda's bombs in his neck and I was trying to get it out without setting it off... Right. She'd been dealing with Bakuda's audition for a kill order as she'd set her crazy fucking tinkertech bombs off all over the city, using suicide bombers and not caring who died in the process. Amy had been at the hospital, dealing with casualties, with people who had had their hands turned to ice and their eyes inverted or one of a hundred other horrifying things happen to them when a man had been brought in, speaking Chinese, but one of the nurses had translated - Bakuda had put a bomb in him, and - then - It was nearly out of him and then - An explosion. And then - Amy's memory was pretty blurry after that, just - flashes. Snow and then giant black widow spiders the size of Hellhound's dogs and then - Nothing. Just waking up, now. With these - these renfaire rejects all pointing their swords at her. "Who - who are you?" Amy debated trying to stand - but she held back. "Where am I? Why am I here? Why am I chained?" "Be quiet," there were four of them, standing around her like the corners of a square. "Why? Answer my question?" Amy demanded, inhaling sharply. First Skitter at the bank, and now here? Her hand glowed bright and the stabbing pain in her hand was back with a vengeance. She cried out again, nearly screaming, eyes screwing shut, tears - She panted, breath coming shallow, short. She'd been hurt before, sure, scrapes and bruises and all that, but nothing - nothing like this. She'd never been stabbed, but she sure felt like she was now, pain driving right into her hand, through her hand, emanating right through it... She clenched her teeth, nearly biting her tongue, struggling to open her eyes, blinking away tears as she looked down at her hand. The weird glowing lines on her hand, looking like veins - but in all the wrong places to actually be veins - were brighter now, dull green going to a bright, almost neon color. She sucked in air, or tried to, chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to - struggled to think through the pain. This is Bakuda's fault. That fucking - she was going to fuck that psychotic tinker up so much. She was going - she could give her cancer or hit her with some sort of flesh-eating parasite that wouldn't kill her but it would hurt so much and then - She relaxed her jaw and looked at the - guards? - around her. She was getting sick of being held prisoner, of people pointing sharp, pointing objects at her or pressing knives to her neck... At least these guys have exposed faces. "Why are you holding me prisoner? Who are you people?!" Amy demanded. "Where am I?" "Haven," one of the guards said. "Haven? Where is Haven?" Wasn't Haven the name of some religious team in the south? Christian capes or something? But these people didn't sound Southern, they sounded British. Sorta. They didn't say anything. She was a prisoner. Somehow. For some reason. These people had to be like, the minions of a Tinker with some sort of medieval specialty. They were probably in one of those old ruined castles that were in England. So I teleported somewhere with snow - England has lots of that right? And it was the territory of this villain and his gang and - Yeah. That made sense. Or - it - it sorta made sense. The beginnings of sense. But - it was a terrible idea for anyone to take her prisoner. Even if she had just landed in their territory. She was wearing her costume, and Panacea was internationally known, at least in costume, in cape circles. She was the most powerful, versatile healer in the world. There was a reason why no one in the Bay or anyone else had tried to kidnap her though, and apparently these idiots hadn't made the connection. Fine, she'd vanished thanks to one of Bakuda's bombs, but she obviously wasn't dead and her sister would raise hell until she was found, and... and Carol would - Carol wouldn't let an attack against New Wave like this stand. She'd call in favors, get Thinkers to figure out where she was... someone would come to rescue her. "You guys are idiots, right, you know that? Taking Panacea prisoner?" "You know, when my family finds out where I am, they're going to destroy you guys. I've seen what Glory Girl can do to someone when she's angry. And Brandish? She'll cut your fucking arms off." The guards didn't say anything to her. They didn't seem like they recognized the names either. Okay. That - that - "Maybe you haven't heard of New Wave, maybe you haven't even heard of me, but seriously, let me go now, and you'll get out of this intact. The PRT probably won't be happy when they find out you're holding me prisoner either." Amy added. Nothing. Fucking Skitter had been more responsive when Amy had threatened her. And that creepy bug bitch had been cold. But anyone who could sic black widows on random people in a bank was likely to be cold. "And if you don't let me go, I'll fucking give you all cancer.." Amy said, starting to stand, snarling the words out. One of the guards pressed his sword against her back, and Amy stilled. "Get back down. Don't move." "You. I'll give you multiple cancers, and I'll make you all impotent!" Amy added, looking over her shoulder at that one. "I can make it so you can never get hard again! Let me go!" "Get. Down." The blade pressed against her back harder, and then she felt another one tapping her neck. Amy nodded slowly, lowering back down to her knees. "I fucking mean it," Amy growled, though she didn't move. "I'll give you cancer and worse if you don't let me go. Assuming my family or the PRT doesn't get to you fir-" Her hand glowed and the pain radiated up her arm this time, but still focused on her hand, the stabbing pain, a knife being driven through it, and Amy tried to double over, but the chain and the swords all around her, close - and she let out a strangled sob, trying to hold back tears again, failing again, gasping, unable to catch her breath, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but experience the pain until it started to subside, the lines on her hand slowly starting to go dimmer, - very slowly. "I don't suppose any of you have any fucking ibuprofen, huh?" Amy demanded, looking at the armored men. How had she gotten this? How had she - she tried to focus, tried to make sense of her memories. It was too many blank spots but why? How? What had happened? Snow. The bomb went off, and there was a lot of snow, and then there was - and then - and the green and spiders and a woman and - Amy hunched over, head down, a throbbing pain suddenly hitting her there now, as if the very act of trying to remember what happened was painful. She shook her head, the few flashes of memory she had hitting her over and over again, playing on repeat- She heard a door opening, wood and metal scraping against the stone and she looked up, seeing a hallway beyond. It, like this room she was in, was lit only by torches. Right. Swords. Castle. Medieval-looking tinker shit. Probably uses torches instead of electric lights for the aesthetic. She could see her sister doing something that over the top if she'd had medieval powers. She already wore a crown, the dork. Two people came into the room. One stayed in the shadows - all Amy could make out was a hood, and that it was definitely a woman. The other was also a woman, dark hair, seemingly cut short - until Amy saw a very finely braided bit curled around the top of her head. She had a piece of armor on - something that covered her torso, looking like an open eye, the middle of a sun? Lines coming out of it. Amy didn't recognize it, didn't know what it meant, but that - she barely knew the roster of capes in the Bay. It had taken her a few minutes to realize the people robbing the bank had been the Undersiders, and only because Vicky had talked about one of their earlier jobs. Vicky might actually recognize that symbol. She was enough of a cape nerd to have studied capes from all over the world. Moving nearly as one, the four guards all stepped aside, pulling their swords away from her, giving the black-haired woman room to approach her. The woman had to be in her 30s, at least. Tall. Commanding. It was hard to tell under her armor and her clothes, but she looked like she was well muscled. Under other circumstances, Amy might even have called her attractive. (Okay, no might about it). But right now, her head throbbing, her hand aching, freezing her ass off in this dungeon, there wasn't much chance of that being a problem now, at least. Neither woman said anything, the hooded one stepping a little into the light - she had red hair - and the dark haired woman sort of sauntering around behind her. Good cop, bad cop? Amy swallowed. More threats moved to the tip of her tongue, more ways she could mention her family, reprisals... I mean, I've healed heroes for the PRT before, a lot. They're not going to just let me be held prisoner if they can find me. If. That was the big thing. Would whoever this was try to force her to heal for them? Hold her for ransom? Worse? Aunt Sarah had given her - and Victoria - the rundown once, when they were ten, on what to do if they got kidnapped. On what to look for, on how to make sure they weren't hurt. She knew threatening people with cancer was probably not on the list, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember what was. The woman bent down, near her ear, almost breathing down Amy's neck literally. "Tell me why we shouldn't just kill you now." The woman said in a voice accented differently from the guards. "What?!" Kill me?! What the fuck?! "Because that's murder!? Because killing a cape, killing Panacea is the kind of thing that would make people land on you like a ton of bricks?! My sister would rip your fucking arms off and beat you to death with them!" Was Europe's cape scene full of murder? She was pretty sure Victoria had said the basic idea of the unwritten rules mostly held true there too... Right? "Your sister? So you weren't alone in your crime?" The woman stood, walked around her, standing in front of her, next to the hooded redhead. "Crime?" Amy wanted to grab at her head, rub at her temples. Her left hand throbbed again, a smaller pulse of pain running through her. What the hell is that? Stupid Manton Limits, stopping her from using her powers on herself. She could figure out what this... glowing green thing was and she could - Well, she could do a lot, if she not for those things. "What crime!? I'm not a criminal, and my sister is a hero! She's not a fucking criminal!" "What crime!? What Crime!?" The woman demanded, sounding offended that Amy would dare to ask the question, as if the answer was obvious, as if she was playing dumb. Did I - did someone Master me? Make me - and then I forgot because of their power or - Amy shook her head. No. No. That couldn't be it. This woman had to be nuts, right? Or just - just mistaken? "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead." She pointed at Amy. "Except for you." "What the fuck is the Conclave?" Amy demanded. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Conclaves were something to do with Popes, right? She'd seen that in an Earth Aleph movie once? Was she in Rome? Neither the guards nor the woman sounded Italian... "You expect us to believe that? When you stumbled out of the Fade? When you were the only one to survive, when Most Holy, when everyone attending the Conclave is dead? When you have this on your hand?" She reached down, gloved hand wrapping around Amy's wrist and pulling her arms up roughly, quickly, the way the chains held them together making the whole thing hurt. "I have no goddamn clue what that is!" Amy snapped. She looked at the furious expression on the woman's face, trying to put information together. There was a thing - a Conclave. People were dead. She was alive. Had Bakuda's bomb teleported her and the explosion here somehow? Shouldn't the bomb have been the teleport? "You think - you think I killed people?" She pulled her wrist out of the woman's grip, though mostly she just let Amy go. "I'm a fucking healer!" Liar. Amy bit down on the inside of her cheek. She was a healer. Her power could do more, but she didn't do that. She'd never killed anyone, she'd barely hurt anyone - the worst she'd done to anyone with her powers was messing with Skitter via her bugs. The dark haired woman snorted in disbelief. "I am! I'm Amy Dallon." No recognition from these two either. "Panacea? Of New Wave? From Brockton Bay?" The dark haired woman showed no signs of recognizing any of that - the Bay was a major city... But I guess I - mean - I can hardly name all the cities in - wherever the hell we are so... "Look, just contact the PRT. They can tell you all about me." Amy said. The redhead didn't seem to recognize anything either, but her expression was a lot more inscrutable. Harder to read. Not that Amy was like, some face-reading expert anyway. If she could have touched either one, she might have been able to get an idea what they were thinking, if they believed her... But then, if she could touch them, she could do a lot more. She inhaled quickly. A lot she shouldn't do. A lot she couldn't do. But - I can anesthetize people - that's not - that's not hurting them. It was like when she'd messed with those spiders. They were holding her prisoner. For - for - You don't know how you got here, what happened since the bomb... Amy shook her head, rattling her chains as she tried to get her hands at the sides of her head, headache worsening all over again. No. It wasn't - she couldn't? "The P... R... T?" The redhead spoke up now, saying the three letters slowly, one by one, brief pauses between, rather than a single acronym. Amy stared, blinking at her. This one sounded - she had a vaguely French accent? But like, a Hollywood French accent, which her French teacher at Arcadia had bitched about once, about how Americans never got French accents right, whatever Earth they were from. "Yeah. The PRT. You know, Parahuman Response Team?" Amy looked at them both. The dark haired woman opened her mouth to say something, but the redhead held out her hand, and the dark haired woman scowled, stepped back. "The US Government cape agency? The Protectorate? Alexandria? Legend? Eidolon?" She listed off the names of Triumvirate. There was no one on this entire planet that didn't know those three names, right? Not recognizing her name, or New Wave was one thing - the international attention Panacea got was only from like, doctors and real cape nerds. But the Triumvirate. Those were the real deal. She searched their expressions for any hint they knew what she was talking about. Nothing. "You say those names as if we should recognize them," The redhead said thoughtfully. "Yeah, duh." Amy tried to ignore the churning in her gut, a realization hitting the edge of her mind. Had Bakuda's blast not - but - how - Even on Earth Aleph someone in authority who dealt with capes would know those names, right? Right? And how would she - couldn't you only just send like, signals and messages to Aleph? Not travel there? "They're the Triumvirate. You know, the three most powerful parahumans on the planet? Fight at every Endbringer battle?" Amy grasped at straws, desperate. There was- She licked her lips, feeling her heart in her chest pounding fast. Her hand throbbed with pain, glowing briefly again - she looked, and it almost looked like the lines were growing, extending further across her hand but was - what the fuck even was this thing? "Fuck." Amy said finally. "I'm not on Earth-Bet anymore, am I? Is this Aleph?" It had to be, right? That was the only other Earth anyone could contact? But - Aleph's capes were like - they were - Amy sucked in air, quickly and shallowly, swallowing, screwing her eyes shut. It had to be Aleph, but even - but how could it not be - if she - "She's clearly trying to make us think she's gone mad," the dark haired woman started, but the redhead shook her head. "No. She's telling the truth. Besides, we need her." She looked at Amy again, looking at her face, looking her over. Amy had the distinct impression of being... sized up. Evaluated. Examined. She shivered - and not from the chill still coming in from the stone floor. "You're in Haven, in the Frostback Mountains." The redhead said. Amy blinked. "Ferelden?" She's naming places too - she - she thinks I'm not from around 'here' either? Do they know about other Earths here? Amy tried to focus on that thought. If they knew about other Earths then maybe they could get their Tinkers - would they even call them Tinkers here? That was a PRT term, and they - there wasn't a PRT here, so... fuck, did they call them... Amy tried to remember some of Vicky's talks about other systems for classifying capes that hadn't taught on the way the PRT's threat assessment had... Inventors? Or maybe they just called then bullshit, since Vicky always said Tinkers and their tech were bullshit. Amy took a breath. She really wished she remembered Aunt Sarah's lessons on what to do if kidnapped better. If she wasn't chained, if she had a chance of touching their bare skin - especially since they probably didn't even know her powers - she could fight back, but both women had gloves on, so she couldn't even go for their hands. "I don't recognize those places." Amy tried to take another breath, but it didn't really work, breath shuddering too much. "I don't know what she's talking about either," Amy said, jerking her head towards the dark haired woman. "Last thing I remember was trying to get a piece of tinkertech out of some guy's neck because some crazy bitch thought it would be a good idea to terrorize the entire city and then it exploded - and next thing I know I wake up here, a prisoner. I don't know anything about a Conclave and I sure didn't fucking kill anyone! I'm a healer!" The redhead looked at her carefully. "A healer who threatens to give people cancer." "What the fuck would you do when you've got people pointing swords at you and holding you prisoner without telling you much of anything about why?!" Amy demanded. "I don't - I don't actually want to do it to anyone, but - I thought I was - I thought I was somewhere that might - might be - I didn't think I was on another Earth." She could still be somewhere on Earth-Bet, maybe - really good actors, or some weird closed off community with some crazy Master running things... She didn't think it was likely. You like Earth Aleph movies and you don't know the first thing about the basic physics bullshit that makes it possible for you to watch them. But - Tinkertech could do crazy shit. Especially Bakuda's... "I'm sure you guys have capes that can do all kinds of crazy shit too, if they want to." "Cape?" The redhead asked, then shook her head. "It takes rare magic to be able to cause cancer in another, but it's just a tool, like any other." The dark-haired woman seemed ready to say something, but Amy couldn't hold back her words. "Magic? My power isn't magic, it's -" Amy started, then she processed what she was saying. What she was seeing. Swords. Armor. The dark haired woman had a sword. Torches. This wasn't weird medieval themed tinkertech. This was an Earth mired in the fucking dark ages and they thought powers were magic! "Jesus fucking Christ! Bakuda's stupid bomb doesn't just send me to another Earth, it sends me to some sort of fucking... medieval... place," Amy rattled at her cage. "Look, just - I didn't kill anyone! I didn't do anything! Let me go!" They had to let her go, she had to - she had to find a way to get - I'm going to get home. I'm going - Vicky won't let them stop until they find me, right? They'll examine the blast site and pick up... alternate Earth energies or whatever, right? Those are a thing? "You are the only survivor found in the ruins of the destruction of the Conclave," the redhead said. "I believe you speak true, but what you speak makes little sense. You truly have no idea of where you are, of what happened, of how you got that mark on your hand?" "I have no fucking clue where I am, how I got here, what your Conclave is or was or - and I don't know what the fuck this thing on my hand is!" As if to punctuate her words, the line on her hand glowed again, brighter and she doubled over, as much as she could, trying to bit her lower lip, but the pain was too much - she cried out, tears in her eyes again. "You're a liar!" The dark haired woman snarled, half-lunging at her, but the redhead grabbed her arm, holding her back more by the gesture and her words than force, it looked like. "Cassandra, we need her." The redhead said, giving a name to the other woman at least. After a moment, Cassandra made a noise of disgust and stepped back. The redhead looked down at Amy again. "Is there nothing you remember?" "No, nothing! I fucking said that, didn't I?!" Amy snapped. This woman - who Amy still didn't have a name for - seemed to believe her, but she just kept fucking asking, and saying - "Just - flashes. Snow, and a bunch of green and then giant spiders and there was this woman and -" Amy shook her head, trying not to think about what she was saying too much. "My head hurts when I try to remember more than that." Her hand was dulling again, but the throbbing ache wasn't going away completely. "A woman?" Amy bit her lower lip, blinking repeatedly, feeling wetness on her face as her headache returned full force. The flashes of it all ran through her mind again, over and over. She whimpered. "Yeah. A woman. She reached out - please stop making me try and remember!" She felt pathetic saying it like that, begging, whining like a baby but - it hurt and - Vicky would handle all this pain better. She'd break these chains and she'd figure out how people here thought powers worked and - But she wasn't her sister. She wasn't Glory Girl, she wasn't Victoria Dallon. She was just - She was just Amy Dallon. She was just Panacea. Plain, pathetic, useless Amy. Maybe the tears were enough to convince Cassandra she was telling the truth. Maybe she just got off on watching Amy in pain, but the woman spoke to the redhead, in a calmer, more level tone: "Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift." The redhead - Leliana - nodded, turning away. "Wait, wait, you're not going to leave me with her!" Amy demanded, but Leliana didn't say anything, continuing on out through the door, into the hallway. Cassandra turned back to her. "I do not believe your words, but whether you speak truly or not is almost irrelevant right now." She pulled keys from her belt and crouched, undid the chains on Amy's wrists. She was close enough to touch. And she had nothing covering her face. Amy could reach out, knock her out, or - But then there were those other four guards to deal with. And if she - if she just attacked this woman... Vicky would fight back but - I can't. She couldn't survive being stabbed with a sword and - and - she didn't know where she was or - Amy inhaled, trying to remember the plot of one of the series she'd used to read, before she'd triggered, before her life had become a blur of hospital visits and sleepless nights, zombie-ing her way through school and clinging to Vicky all the tighter, hating herself for how she couldn't fucking be normal about it while she did it. The main character in that one had... been someone from a normal Earth - even if one without capes - and then in some... medieval place. With actual magic. How did they - what did they... Vicky might fight back, but her sister was, above all else, a fucking nerd. She'd want to know where she was, what was going on, how it all worked... "And I'm just supposed to trust you, after you threatened to kill me?!" Amy rubbed at her wrists. "Trust cuts both ways," Cassandra countered. "Come, we must go to the rift." She gestured for Amy to stand, stepping away. "If I see any sign of you using magic, I will stop you," she added. It's not magic you - Magic was powers. Was she a Trump that could stop powers? Or just like, local PRT-equivalent? The ones that policed powers. The symbol on her breastplate was that like - a knightly order? Those were things in fantasy stories... God. I'm living one of those stories I used to love. How many kids her age would be thrilled? Probably less, if they realized the swords were real and - Amy stood. "What the fuck is the 'rift?' I still have no idea what's going on!" "It will be better to show you," Cassandra explained. "Come." She started into the hallway and for a moment, Amy debated waiting, standing, forcing Cassandra to come back and give explanations but - would the woman just chain her up again? Hurt her? There were microbes on the floor, probably bugs too... she could... she could do something with them to fight back but - Amy shook her head. No. No. She closed her eyes, trying to banish all the thoughts bubbling to the top of her mind, all the - the horrifying things she could do with her power, the things she could make to - to fight and - I don't want to hurt anyone! Amy took another breath, opened her eyes, and followed Cassandra. "At least tell me what the Conclave is - was!" Amy needed - she needed to understand what was going on. Information was power, for a parahuman. Carol had always talked about that. Vicky did too. The PRT looped New Wave in on briefings about new Capes in or near the Bay for a reason. Carol and Aunt Sarah made her sit through all those briefings at the team meetings... "The Conclave was the last hope of peace. Divine Justinia called it in the hopes of ending the war between the Mages and the Templars." "No idea who any of those are..." Amy muttered. But - okay. Mages. Simple enough. The people who had powers, got called mages. That made sense. As much as anything did. She tried to focus on working through it all. Some kind of fight between powered people and... Templars. Different group of powered people? Or like... "Are you a Templar?" If Cassandra was like, the local PRT, and she was a Templar... "No, I am not. I was a Seeker, those who ultimately commanded the Templars. But I left the order when the Templars rebelled against the authority of the Chantry." Okay... so Cassandra is basically an Ex-Templar? So... war between powered people and... the PRT, but... what they went rogue against the government? Amy tried to imagine the PRT rebelling against the government, but that - that wasn't possible? That wasn't how anything worked. But this isn't America. This isn't Earth-Bet. "And you think I... attacked a peace conference?" "I believe what little evidence exists points to you," Cassandra said after a pause. They reached the stairs at the end of the hallway, and went up. The air started to feel chiller the further they went, and then up the stairs, and Amy wrapped her arms around herself... she was still wearing her robes, white with the red cross and all that, but though they covered her up well... they weren't very insulating... and she was dressed for April in the Bay underneath... Amy inhaled, shivering again. "But as I said, whether you speak the truth is almost irrelevant right now." They stepped up onto what had to be the ground floor. She could see colored light coming in through stained glass, but torches and chandeliers with candles - dozens, hundreds of them - were casting most of the light in the vast, open single chamber they were in. Cassandra continued on towards massive double doors on one end. "There are things of more immediate concern," Cassandra added, pushing the doors open and stepping out into cold air. Amy wrapped her arms tighter, pulling her robe around her more. There was snow on the ground and a bunch of wooden structures, and a wooden wall - all carved stakes pointing upwards. Medieval fucking world... Amy's left hand flared with pain again and she stumbled, nearly falling over, but Cassandra was there, catching her, gloved hand on Amy's shoulder. "Fuck... what the fuck is this thing?!" Amy straightened up, pushing Cassandra away, and then - As her eyes scanned over the village, she looked off to the left and up and... If Amy had had any doubts on if she was on another Earth - not that she really did, at this point - then she lost them as she looked at what she could only call a fucking hole in the sky, green light streaming down from it, the same bright shade as the mark on her hand, an almost pillar of light coming down to the ground somewhere she couldn't see... Amy stared at it, her hand feeling like whatever knife had stabbed it again was still there, twisting. She bit her lip until she tasted blood, trying to not whimper or whine or cry, blinking repeatedly against the cold breeze - the breeze, definitely the breeze - "What. The. Fuck."

Created: Mar 24, 2025

Status: Incomplete

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Amy Dallon. Panacea. A self-loathing, damaged, troubled young woman who's sanity teeters on the edge of a knife. In love with her sister, feeling like an alien intruder in her own family, desperate for the approval of a mother seemingly unable to give it, and overwhelmed by the monstrous potential of a power she never wanted.

In theory, the last person you would want to rest the entire fate of the world on.

But when a Bakuda bomb plucks her from Earth-Bet and drops her in Thedas, leaving her with a glowing green mark on her hand, and a hole in the sky that only she can close, Amy will have no choice to rise to the occassion - or die trying.

I'm probably going to die trying - Amy Dallon, 9:41 Dragon.

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Leliana, Josephine and Cassandra's Voices

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Jun 1, 2025

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Kylia Quilor

I have two moods: Thirsty and Bitter

Jun 1, 2025

#74

It has occurred to me that people who didn't play the game wouldn't know what all these characters sound like. Leliana's psuedo-french accent (which can vary in intensity, and was more notable in Dragon Age: Origins) has been noted in story. Personally, I've never had much luck mapping Cassandra and Josephine's accents onto RL ones, so I couldn't really have Amy do that for either. Katerina is also Nevarran (though of peasant stock, rather than Cassandra's noble birth), so her accent is pretty similar to Cassandra's.

But here's some samplings of a few character voices, and I'll try to find other spoiler-free videos that can do the same for others later/as we go.

Josephine:
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SRTCPAxGNbk
Leliana:
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rkW8tAsY5nk (As I said, to my recollection, her accent is more pronounced in Dragon Age: Origins)
Cassandra:
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=840J-klsKsQ

(Again no meaningful spoilers in any of these videos, ftr)

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Amy Dallon, Herald of Andraste

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I have two moods: Thirsty and Bitter

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