When Worlds Collide (Korra/Dragon Age Crossover)

Flemeth

The Witch of the Wilds, called Flemeth and other, whispered names, stood with one foot in the material world and the other in the world of dreams. She held a knife, and both of her bare feet stood in fresh blood.

   She had not spilled this blood—not directly, at least. Like always, the people of Thedas had danced to her tune and the tune of her chosen musicians.

   And that was Flemeth's true power—the one no one mentioned, because Flemeth kept it all to herself. With her long life and with some innate ability, Flemeth understood people. She understood who could move the world with willpower, and who could tear it apart without even meaning to. She saw their movements ahead of time—living catalysts in human form, unaware of their capacity for change—and put them where they served her interests most.

   The long game was coming to an end now. The knife in her hand would be the instrument to bring in the last pieces.

   You would think the Witch of the Wilds didn't see the mountains and mountains of corpses all around her, her eyes were so focused on the blade in her hand.

   Made from broken promises stolen in the world of dreams, and sharpened with putrified compassion snatched from generations of her own witch-children. And now it shone deep red with the blood magic from the recent battle, a metallic thrum shaking the air, unholy energy surging forth from the subtle runes carved in the battlefield.

   Preparation. Years of preparation to spill this much magical blood, from mages and lyrium-empowered templars. Years of the long game, of bloodshed and tears, some from her and some from her living chess pieces.

   All for the greater--

   No. She laughed. The word was meaningless. Flemeth would define morality, and there would be no “greater good.” All of her actions would be good, and all she disapproved of would be called evil. Her blade—not the one in her hand, but the one in her heart—had been welded from something else.
Something deeper and more bitter than the stench of darkspawn.
   “Vengeance,” she whispered. Her dagger plunged through the barrier between the world of dreams, the Fade, and the world of the physical. Then, her arm straining, she began breaking through that last, unknown barrier. The one the Warden and Morrigan had merely walked through, mindful of the wall's integrity.

   Flemeth's dagger tore through the barrier between worlds.
   It was a small slit, but it had an immediate effect. For a moment, the material world screamed. Flemeth crumpled to the ground, overwhelmed by the thoughts and memories of civilizations.

   --You will be the Avatar, guardian of--
   --this treaty will establish Four--
   --don't you see that--
   --damn you Koh, and your--
   --our love will--
   --the Cave is lit by--
   --hand me back the--
   --everything changed when--
   --penguin sledding with--
   --the crossroads of--
   --you know what you must--
   --he is guilty of--
   --I will be a savior--
   --you've gotta deal with it!--
   --the Equalist threat--
   --a new beginning.

   These and endless more, all read and discarded when necessary. The tear in the worlds, like a hole in the ocean, demanding something to go sink into it.

   Like always, Flemeth picked her pieces well. She picked them based on tenacity, strength, intelligence, charisma, compassion, and, of course, hatred.

   Only one person saw the ritual. And he ran as quickly as his feet could take him.

 Slowly—ever slowly—the rift in the Fade began to grow.

Koh

The Fool Witch had enacted her plan. Now was the time for his own manipulations to bare fruit.

A rift between worlds had been opened, and now everything would change. The balance of the Spirit World and the Realm of the Mortals was in danger, with the wild card of Flemeth and the Fade added to the mix. All that the Avatars throughout the ages had tried to accomplished could be destroyed in a single instant, if things went horribly wrong.

But he had calculated the odds before, and had decided it well worth the risk. Flemeth may have had her own schemes, but so did he. And while he was loathe to take a chance like this, it would be well worth it.

Thus far, all was going as he had foreseen, and Koh the Face-Stealer would make sure that upcoming events would continue to go exactly as he planned, no matter the cost.

“The time has come for you to play your part, puppet. If you do my will, then I will live up to my end of our bargain. Fail me, and you will not live long enough to regret it.”

The emotionless figure besides the great Face-Stealer gave a brisk nod, and stared straight ahead into the portal opened up by the Fool Witch.

The puppet besides him had proved a useful, if brash tool in the past, and Koh had no doubt that he'd continue to serve him in such a capacity. In this strange, foreign world, his puppet might be out of his element in the beginning, but he would adapt, and thrive. The puppet had lived through worse before, after all.

“My protection will shroud you from her sight. Go, and ensure that my efforts will not be in vain.”

The figure nodded again, and slowly walked forward. He touched the rift, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“And so it begins.”

The Face-Stealer curled his body and gazed into the abyss before him. Flemeth might not have such a use for balance, but he did. All Spirits from this Realm knew the absolute necessity of balance, even if the vile creatures of the Fade did not. But they would, soon enough.

Oh yes, they would. And Koh looked forward to it.

Old God

The Old God Urthemiel had been many things during her lifetime: a Highborn Dragon of unimaginable pride and power, then an Archemon of unrivaled cunning and brutality, and now...a child with the abilities and traits of both her previous lives.

Since she had been freed from the Taint, and reborn in human form, Urthemiel had gained a clarity that she hadn't known before. When she had been an Dragon, she had been immensely powerful, and yet...corrupt, at the same time. She and her siblings had forced the peoples of Thedas to bow before them and, in their highest act of arrogance, had ordered their slaves to storm the very home of the Maker himself.

And as a result of that bout of foolishness, she and her siblings had been imprisoned underground by their Creator, and sentenced to a life of sleep, until the Darkspawn found them.

Oh, and when their pitiful servants had heeded their Call...

Tainted to become an Archdemon, Urthemiel had been a creature of beauty and brutality. She had commanded the very Hoard itself, and had marched the Darkspawn upon the armies of Fereldan. She had succeeded, at first, until the mortal enemies of the Darkspawn finally slew her. And by all accounts, Urthemiel's rise and fall should have ended then and there.

But, it seemed a different fate had been in store for her...

Morrigan, her Mother and Savior, had drawn her soul into her womb, and there Urthemiel had merged with the already budding life within it. Freed from the Taint, Urthemiel had been given a new life, one free from the shackles of the Darkspawn, and one free from her arrogance and stupidity as a High Dragon.

Now she was an Old God in human form, and a force to be reckoned with once more. But Urthemiel no longer wanted to rule over the lands of Thedas, as she had in her first life; nor did she want to command the armies of the Darkspawn, as she had been forced to in her second life.

Now, all she wanted was to be left alone. Mother Morrigan supported her in that area, thankfully, and for the first ten years of her new life, Urthemiel had been successful in that area.

But now, her life in seclusion and peace was crumbling at the seams, all because two powerful entities believed they deserved more than their station in life granted them. And because of their selfishness and foolishness, both of their worlds were doomed.

As the Old God Human Urthemiel, she had an unrivaled ability in divination, even moreso than the Witch and the Face-Stealer. And what they could not see, she did. And the possibilities frightened her.

In almost all possible futures, their actions would result in a cataclysm that would utterly ruin both of their worlds, and perhaps lead to the death of many more worlds and dimensions.

They were fools, the both of them.

The Face-Stealer and the Witch. Both sought power beyond their control, and in the end, it would destroy everything, if they were not stopped.

Thus, Urthemiel needed to do the best she could to see that their plans failed. But even she could not do it alone; and if she failed...

Than Maker help them all.