Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. The author has no intention to profit from this work and it is merely a work of fanfiiction.  No copyright infringement is intended.

Dagda

Dagda puzzled over the crate.  To mundane eyes it was just a wooden box with the words 'property of Sandal' etched onto the top, but Dagda was anything but mundane.  Sure her eyes were as blind to magic as any dwarve's but her instruments were not and they registered some prety weird magic radiating through the unassuming pine surface.  The patterns were reminiscent of armor runes, but way way more complex.  They were unlike anything she'd ever seen and were almost certainly dangerous.  Only a fool would open it before running more tests.  She went for her crowbar.

Thanking the Stone that Harrit was not currently in the Undercroft, the dwarf riffled through her tool chest until she found the steel implement.  She was attacking the box like a cat tearing into a bag of catnip when the hollow echoe of the doors sounded through the granite walls.  The words, "Dagda, I need a new enchantment," soon followed in its wake.  The arcanist got only a glimpse of the box's contents, straw packed about a faintly glowing something before needing to whirl about.  She immediately strung a smile between her pudgy cheeks and placed her limited mass between the Inquisitor's gaze and her latest 'dabbling in forces better left alone.'

Inquisitor    

Dagda was definitely up to something.  You didn't have to be the Inquisitor or a templar to know that.  You just had to know Dagda and after three fires, two explosions and a badger abomination, Evelyn knew Dagda.  Specifically she knew to trust her about as far as she could throw the Iron Bull.

"What are you up to, Dagda?"  The Inquisitor immediately pressed.  "And by what I mean what exactly will be nearly killing us all in the coming minutes."

"It's nothing, Inquisitor... Mam... m'Lady... nothing to worry about," the dwarven savant muttered while unconsciously inching back from her ever armored and ever paranoid templar leader.  "Nothing dangerous... I think..."  With another step back, the dwarf's shoulderblades collided with something knocking if off its perch on the shelf behind and onto the floor.  A wooden box, the container hit the floor hard sending its contents scattering across the stone in all directions like spilt marbles.  They looked like rune stones but Evelyn, who was necessarily familiar with magic (know thine enemy and all that) did not recognize the deep phosphorescent colors or intricate patterns.  She had little time to ponder their nature however as one of the stones came skidding to a halt between her feet and exploded in a flash of blinding purple light.

Dagda

As soon as the box came clattering down the dwarf went into damage control mode, racing and clutching after the runes.  There was no knowing after all whether impact would trigger their effect or what that effect might  FLASH  be...  Dagda looked up, her hand partially gripping one of the offending stones.  As she blinked, echoes of the brignt light pulsated in her field of view like an amorphous star. It took her only three blinks to realize that the Inquisitor was nowhere to be seen.  "Ummm Inquisitor..."  She looked around and found herself alone in the hollow of the undercroft.  Borrowing a phrase from Varric, she groaned, "well... shit."

Inquisitor

Evelyn's instinctive bellow at Dagda arose from her diaphragm but died in her throat as the enormity of a new world descended upon her.  The undercroft, previously the size of a small amphitheator now stretched out in all directions, a cavern of infinite scope.  Crafting stations, grinding stones and anvils, stood like great monoliths on the horizon clouded by height and distance.  One of those monoliths, Evelyn noticed, seemed to be moving.  Squinting her best at the mountainous form, the shrunken templar realized that that was no monolith, it was a dwarf.

Her mind raced.  Just how small was she.  A cursory glance at the nearest seam in the stone floor, a wide ravine from her perspective, affirmed her size on the scale of the tiniest ants.  'Maker,' Evelyn worried, 'will anyone even be able to see me.'  The thought pressed on her mind with increasing weight as the giantess Dagda drew closer and her plump shadow engulfed the insectile inquisitor.  

Impacts from the dwarf's boots sent shockwaves through the stone, the unexpected first wave nearly hurling Evelyn off her feet.  Despite the danger of those boots the enormity of Dagda drew the templar's eyes inexorably upward.  She recalled the dwarf's insane musings a month ago after Leliana had convinced her, against her better judgement, to allow one of the arcanist's crazed Fade experiments.  One sentence sparked in her memory.  "I felt tall, really tall."  Well she was certainly tall now, not dwarf but mountain goddess, hypnotic by virtue of her sheer size and incomprehensible power.  The Inquisitor felt an unfamiliar pang of insignificance in comparison, but she quickly repressed it.  All magic could be countered, even the magic of the Breech.  Surely this hex was no different.

Unfortunately, the oncoming dwarven giantess left little time for the templar to dwell on solutions.  Every foot fall was sounding louder, every vibration rattling her armor more violently.  She had to get off the floor or at least away from the open, yet all around her was naught but an endless expanse of uneven granite.  Glancing about for salvation, her gaze latched onto the nearest seam, deep enough to hold her tiny body with room to spare.  She wasted no time in rushing for it and, initially, toward the oncoming titaness.  Sliding into the crevice and falling a few feet down to the dusty interior, Evelyn could finally catch her breath and corral her thoughts.  The first of these thoughts turned out to be one familiar to all templars.  "This," she affirmed aloud, "is why people fear magic."

Dagda

She didnt get it.  She walked right up to where the Inquisitor was standing and found... nothing.  Usually when she blew someone up there was at least a bit of ashes on the floor.  This time nothing.  Common people told stories about vanishing magics of course but Dagda, despite being incapable of magic, had studied it extensively.  She knew that magic which made things disappear or otherwise mutated space were as rare as those which altered time.  Of course, the Breech had proven that almost anything is possible, but these runes were old works, unconnected with the recent apocolypse.

Dagda knelt down and wiped a finger across the stone.  She inspected her glove and found only the familiar dust, no residue of a recently deceased inquisitor.  In her mind she began rehearsing possible explanations to Cassandra.  Few of the hypotheticals ended well.  In fact, most ended with an angry Seeker dangling her over the ramparts.  

She had to find their leader and fast.  It wasn't just her carreer or safety on the line.  Only the Inquisitor could seal the Breech once and for all, only the Inquisitor could face Corypheus.  If her rune had truly destroyed the Inquisitor then it had also destroyed the world.  Typically Dagda was glad to solve problems on her own, other people and their old thinking usually just got in the way, but this was too big for her.  She needed help.  Help from someone who knew magic and could keep a secret better than an Orlesian bard.  "...Leliana!" Dagda exclaimed, before rushing rapidly out of the undercroft.  

Evelyn

The tiny templar waited in the shelter provided by the stonework's imperfection until the shadow of the collosal dwarf had long passed.  She then wasted no time in scaling along the rough stone rise and up from inside the seam to the vast landscape above.  Once more she marvelled at the scale of distance.  A few stone tiles constituted an entire landscape complete with blurred horizon.  In fact, she could just barely see the north wall where...  She squinted hard; then she saw it, a stone rune with the same glowing inscription which had hexxed her yet untriggered.  Dagda must have overlooked the rune as it had skidded far from the initial disaster, lying now partly beneath the shadow of the workbenches.  

Evelyn, always quick to reach the most practical solution no matter how insane the situation, began undoning her armor.  An entire countryside of granite lay between her and that rune and she estimated the chances of her running into Venatori on the floor to be very low.  She even considered leaving her heavy greatsword, but then the thought of insects or, heaven forbid mice, at her size occurred to her and she hastily resecured the blade at her back.  After she'd dropped as much weight as she cared to, the templar trucked off across the stone.  As she hiked her head still cycled about as she gazed up in awe at the immensity of just one single room.  The ceiling in particular, higher than the highest mountain, drew her awe.  She thanked Andraste she wasn't a dwarf.  "If they think the sky is too high, they should see this," she mumbled.

Fifteen minutes into her journey, the quirky dwarf turned giantess Dagda, reemerged into the room like a titan awakening.  Evelyn could see another giant with her, a human woman by the mountainous hourglass shape, but she dared not risk being crushed.  The instant they appeared she sprinted to the nearest crack and dove down into it like a harried soldier into the santuary of his foxhole.  There she waited out the thunder of giant footsteps and when the storm had passed she returned to her hike.  This process repeated over and over during the trip, wearing the tiny woman's nerves to the ragged edge.  More than once a boot sole, whether Dagda's or someone elses she could not tell, came down directly over her refuge blotting out the sky, shaking the ground, and raining dirt, gravel, and other hail sized particulates on the tiny woman.  Had she dared to remain in sight in some desperate and fool hardy attempt to get noticed at the size of a flea, she'd likely be not but a itty bitty stain tracked unknowingly about Skyhold by her young dwarven arcanist.

Finally, after hours of hiking and countless dives for safety, Evelyn did reach the embracing cool of shadow beneath the workbench.  Knowing that people didn't usually walk under the table, she breathed a sigh of relief as her nerves began to relax.  Surveying her surroundings she saw a stonescape covered in a thick dust layer like ash fallout from a recent eruption.  Standing amidst the detritus were wiry balls of lint, hair and other assorted trash some of which were the size of massive boulders to the tiny woman.  "Dust bunnies," she muttered, "I'm being towered over by dust bunnies."  

Not long into the 'shadow realm' she found the rune, it's magical script glowing with a familiar violet.  Evelyn approached the artifact with two plans in mind.  One, she could count on Dagda to find the object and, under close inspection, her as well.  Two, she might use her own knowledge of runes, to reverse the hex.  One was admittedly more likely, but both required she climb onto the stone.  Dagda won't be looking at the floor around the rune and to study the script herself she needed to be up on the face of the stone.  Evelyn fumbled around at the edge of the object, a good five times her height, until she found a halfway decent handhold.  Climbing up the relatively smooth face, she found herself doubly glad, after the long hike, that she'd left her heavy plate behind.  Even if that meant running around in naught but your linens.

After some sweat and more than a few unladylike grunts, Lady Trevelyan reached the upper ledge and sprawled out onto the flat face of the rune.  Little wider than a person's palm, the stone was as wide as a pond to the shrunken inquisitor.  The incandescent rune script ran across its smooth stone face like elegant lava flows glowing warmly in the shadow under the benches.  Even at closer inspection, however, Evelyn recognized nothing familiar in the rune though it did seem to be of the same kind which shrunk her, perhaps the exact same.

The crashing sound and reverberations of footsteps interrupted the templar's train of thought.  Ever the optimist, she turned around hoping Dagda had seen the runestone and her trials would soon be over.  Unfortunately the giantess looming over the rune, casting it and her in even deeper shadow, was no dwarf.  Quite the opposite, those untamed blond bangs and broken nose could only belong to one person, Sera.  

"Oh shit," Evelyn cried as she nearly fell back under he sheer size of the face looming above.  She knew the self styled Red Jenny was no fan of personal hygeine, but at such magnification the flaws already visible to those of the same size reached truly horrific proportions.  The greasy unsoaped skin, the pitting of blackheads and the patches of untended peach fuzz.  She could even see the details up Sera's nose and it practically made the hardened warrior faint outright.  She occasionally thought of Sera as a little monster, now she knew that was exactly half right.

"Sera!!!  Sera down here!!"  Evelyn jumped up and waved but to no avail. The elf's eyes glittered with greed and her hand reached out.  A palm glistening with sweat replaced the acned face and a second later the inquisistor was pressed face down against the stone.  Above her, the sticky warmth of the she elf's hand and below her the cold unyielding surface of the rune stone.  Evelyn tried to scream, but the voice of the elf thundering like a Goddess stamped out her own with the words, "THE SHINIER THE RUNE THE BOOMIER THE ARROW, RIGHT."  Moments later, Evelyn was tumbling into the pitchblack of what she could only guess was a pocket.  Thankfully she fell clear of the runestone which might have very well crushed her and landed in the sagging yet coarse embrace of cheap fabric.  For a few seconds light shown through from above, then a button sealed off the world leaving her alone with the rune and an assortment of lint.  "SERA!!" she screamed one last time, but to no effect.  Evelyn's head fell into her hands.  She was now an unwitting captive of the most immature, irresponsible, violent, unpredictable and unclean member of the entire Inquisition.  "I can't believe I ever thought about dating her," the Inquistor moaned to herself in the dark.