Bacon was initially Carver’s mabari, but always had a very strong bond with Marian (and it drove him mad). She was always a very gentle, non confrontational dog.
Marian participated often in some of the illegal fight rings in Kirkwall’s Darktown. She is a ruthless opponent and builds up quite the reputation - this is how Varric first hears of her.
When they first meet, Fenris does not immediately ask for Hawke’s assistance in going to the manor. She’s the first person he goes to after finding out Danarius might still be in Kirkwall.
Fenris leaves the city for a few months after learning of Varania, trying to track her down.
After the events of DA2 they go back to Ferelden, but they’re eventually tracked down by Venatori and captured.
don’t know if you guys saw this from a couple weeks ago but since there are a couple posts doing the rounds re: ofmd and slaveowning this is worth a read
apparently paywalled so here are some screenshots (alt text is attached)
“Pick who dies” | Collars | Kidnapped || Manhandled | Forced to Their Knees | Held at Gunpoint
The butt of the blaster connected with the back of his head once again, and Luke tasted blood. Not for the first time, he found his thoughts struggling against the fog that had settled over his mind, panic forcing his heart into overdrive. He was on the ground, kneeling before his captors, and the impact caused him to keel over and land in the dirt. Bound hands had barely stopped him from falling face first into the ground below, but he could feel the sharp bite of the gravel dig into his palms as he braced himself with weak arms.
“Are you an idiot? Answer the question.”
Question? He wasn’t sure he understood much, right now, the drugs still working their way out of his system. He remembered being captured. He remembered being dragged here. He remembered his friends being dragged along as well, screams and shouts and chaos. But he didn’t remember a question.
“I – I’m sorry, I don’t – what question?”
A different sort of pain shot through him this time, a pain that danced across his skin, radiating from his neck down towards the rest of his body. He was convulsing, now, unable to continue supporting his weight and tumbling forward into the dirt after all. The same gravel that had bit into his hands was now grinding against his cheeks. A ragged cry rung through the air, and Luke found himself sympathizing, dimly, with whoever was screaming like that, not realizing it was his own voice that was echoing so loud.
Rough hands grasped at Luke’s hair, tearing his body upwards and his head backwards so his bleary eyes could take in the scene before him. Kneeling, all in a row, was an assortment of beings, some he recognized, some he didn’t. All appeared filthy and pitiful, a sorry sight much like he imagined he looked himself. There was desperation in the eyes of most, defeat in many, and in some… Some bore a defiance that was far more familiar than it had any right to be. The ones wearing defiance were the people he knew best, he was sure, even through the haze that hung heavy over his awareness.
Seeing them – recognizing them – sent a surge through him, and Luke found his awareness perk up just a touch.
“Deafand an idiot,” another voice scoffed, gruffer and higher pitched than the first. “Really is a good thing we’re here to teach this whelp a lesson before trying to fetch any sort of price for him.”
No… the word price echoed in his head, and he felt a pool of dread gather in his gut. As delirious as he was, there was no doubt who his captors were: slavers. And the people before him were set to be sold off as well.
Gritting his teeth, Luke gathered up as much strength as he could and glared up at his captors, placing as much heat as possible into his expression. All this accomplished was to earn him a condescending smirk and another smack across his cheek.
“Yes, yes, he really is a sorry case,” cooed the first voice. They’d begun circling Luke, clearly not the one still gripping his hair, and he could only catch vague glimpses as they passed in front of him. “I have no idea how someone like this could’ve earned such a significant bounty, but here we are…”
After a few moments of pacing, this particular captor knelt before Luke and offered a toothy grin. They were humanoid, but there was something off about them. Cybernetic enhancements? A different species? He couldn’t quite focus on their specific features, no matter how much of that heat he harnessed, but he knew that, whoever this was, they were not someone he wanted to spend an abundance of time near.
“But perhaps that is not entirely your fault, at the moment.” The gleam in their eyes told Luke that they were fully aware of how dazed and confused he was. “True, you were rather… underwhelming even before we subdued you. But I suppose we should be patient, considering just how addled your mind must be. That particular cocktail we gave you is potent enough to take down a rancor, let alone a wretch like you.”
Harnessing that heat once again, Luke worked to meet the eyes of his captor. They were predominantly green, with a yellowish hue. The pupils were not fully slitted, but neither were they perfectly round. Their features were ambiguous, and he found it hard to get a clear picture of who they could possibly be, but all he knew was that he felt pure, unadulterated anger towards them.
“Go to hell,” he croaked. With all the defiance he had within him, he spit in their face. Feeling satisfied and with his resolve bolstered somewhat, he found a few more words. “What do you want?”
A flash of anger passed through those yellow-green eyes, but it was quickly replaced with a self-satisfied smirk. With a casual swipe, his captor removed the saliva from their face with their sleeve and stepped to the side.
“Y’see the pathetic excuses for people laid out in front of ya?” Anger flared in Luke, but he simply gritted his teeth and bit back his response, nodding stiffly against the grip on his hair. “All folk you wanted to save.” His gaze flickered across them all again, concentrating more on their features, and the pool of dread in the pit of his stomach only grew deeper and heavier. “Too bad you can’t save them all. Cause, see, our transport simply does not have the room for you all. We still get paid for proof of capture, dead or alive, but the journey will end sooner for some of you than for others.”
Panic was beginning to etch itself across the more unfamiliar faces before him. Luke could feel the sentiment reflected in his heart.
“Please…” The word spilled forth unbidden from Luke’s lips. “None of them deserve to die. Or to be captured. Just let them all go. It’s me you want, isn’t it? Just let them go, just take me, and I won’t fight, I promise…”
The pain bloomed once again, briefer this time, but more intense. His head was jerked backwards, and Luke found himself looking up at a very human face, silvery-blue eyes cold as durasteel, bearing an intense dislike for the creature they gazed upon. “He still doesn’t get it, does he, boss?” Long, slender fingers reached to trace across Luke’s neck. “This piece of scum is gonna have to make a decision one way or another, and ain’t nobody getting out of here alive.” Though he felt pressure on his neck, he did not register any sensation on his skin as those fingers continued to drag. And that’s when it hit him – the source of his pain, before, was a collar, set to administer electric shocks, should he disobey.
It took a great deal of self-control to keep from emptying the contents of his stomach right then and there.
What did they want with him? With the others? These didn’t seem like typical bounty hunters or even slavers. There was something far more… sadistic to them that set Luke on edge.
The leader, whoever or whateverthey were, met Luke’s gaze again with a sharp-toothed grin. “Ye’ll be comin’ with us regardless, wretch, don’t you worry. And you’re far too valuable to take in dead, so don’t ya go tryin’ to sacrifice yerself. I know that’s how you hero-types operate. But I need yer opinion. See, I just can’t decide who’s gonna be dead weight. One o’ yer Rebellion buddies? Could be a bit more defiant than they’re worth, even if they are skilled. Or maybe one o’ these peasant-type folks. Much more docile, but lacking in skills. So whaddya think… little Jedi?”
His blood turned to ice in his veins, and his eyes flew wide as he gained full awareness of his situation. They knew. Somehow, they knew he had the Force. No wonder they’d called him valuable. (That was stomach churning on its own; comparing his life to others and knowing it was only because he had been born with some talent they lacked made him feel even queasier.) He still didn’t know, fully, how he’d landed himself in this situation, but Luke absolutely didn’t know how he was supposed to get himself out.
Without a miracle – or some very quick thinking he was not capable of summoning at the moment – someone was going to have to suffer because of him.
This realization prominent in his mind, he scanned the faces one last time, eyes finally landing on the familiar features of one of his wingmates, Wedge Antilles. He wore fire in his eyes, a righteous rage against what they were being subjected to, and the heat in that expression was almost enough to make Luke sweat. Wedge’s face slackened when his eyes found Luke, revealing sympathy and care as they exchanged heavy, mournful glances.
In an instant, the fire reignited as Wedge’s gaze flickered from his friend to his captor, and he began to struggle. “Don’t say anything, Luke, they’re just trying to get to you!” He gritted his teeth, a significant look exchanged between them and then – “The bird of prey has already left her nest. You know she always flies true, given the time.”
Bird of prey? Bird of prey… Luke considered that for a moment that felt like an eternity before finally realizing – The Falcon! Of course they’d sent out a distress signal. Han and Chewie (and, maybe, Leia) would know where to find them. There was hope for the lot of them yet. He just had to keep stalling.
Turning his eyes towards the leader, Luke narrowed his eyes. “How do I know,” he croaked, “that you’re telling the truth? About not having enough room? About someone having to die?” He felt the gears in his mind turning so fast he could scarcely keep up, and his mouth seemed to act before his brain could finish processing. “You get more out of taking people alive, you have to, so why wouldn’t you make it work? What is this about? Why are you – ”
The sound of blasterfire cut his words short, and the eyes that had been filled with flames just moments before now stared at him blankly, shock and defiance blending with the unmistakable emptiness that accompanied death.
Wedge was dead.
And…
And it was Luke’s fault.
Perhaps not directly. He hadn’t given the word. He hadn’t pulled the trigger. But they had both been defiant, and now his friend was dead.
The others were crying out in shock, those who dimly registered as fellow Rebels shrieking in outrage, the innocents wailing in horror. Luke was silent. He was in shock. Through everything, he hadn’t expected… this.
“Foolish little Jedi. You have no idea who we are or what we want. Don’t presume to guess. Just know that your fate holds a particular interest to us, and we will see it through. Now, it is time for you to sleep again, and face your new life on the other side. Rest well, little Jedi.”
He didn’t. A bite in his neck pumped him full of drugs once more, and a fitful, restless unconsciousness overtook him. The lifeless expression of his former friend haunted him, the dull eyes still filled with raw emotion burned into his vision, even through his faded awareness. He had no idea what was in store for him, but Luke was certain that this anguish was only the beginning…
