Hello everyone and welcome to my own take at a story located in the Dragon Age universe. I would just like to mention that this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction of any kind so any and all advice is more than welcome. Whether it is praise or criticism, I would very much like to hear the reader's take on my little world withing Dragon Age.
First, I would like to clear up some possible confusion that might arise as you, the reader, delve deeper into the story. While the story is set in the Dragon Age universe, it isn't set in any particular timeline which took place in the original games. In fact, it is my own take on a world created by events taking place well after the Inquisition storyline ended. I won't spoil the story with the details here but suffice to say that old videogame characters will be referred to only in passing for the most part, as an omage to the game's legacy. Most of the main characters do not belong in said universe but appear to have been thrust in by unknown means and the story follows their struggle to make their way in this strange, new world. My writing has been greatly influenced by numerous other fantasy novels, videogames and series so do not be surprised if there are certain segments within the story that remind you of something you may have seen, read or played.
Again, I urge you to let me know if there are parts of the story that aren't clear enough or need to be tweaked as I am still developing and changing the story as I write. Now, without further ado, let's dive into the story. Enjoy!
Pain.
Darkness enveloped him, his lungs struggled to draw air in and his extremities felt numb and cold. Coherent thoughts seemed to take ages to form in his mind but the pain was always there, a sobering reminder that he was alive; a reminder that hinted at something being terribly, terribly wrong.
"Move! Move, damn you!" He thought to himself, as if to force his muscles to obey through sheer willpower but there was no response. Only darkness, only pain. He took a deep breath to refocus himself and try to remember what had happened, but nothing came to him. It was as if he couldn't conjure up a single image in his mind, not of what had transpired and certainly not of what was going on around him now.
Then he felt it, his surroundings, the weight on top of him, the pain in his left shoulder, even the smell surrounding him. It was… rotten, but not the smell of food gone bad or trash left out in the sun for too long; it was something different.
His senses seemed to be returning to him slowly, as he could now see faint glimmers of light protruding from small openings around him. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, his mind raced and his claustrophobia began kicking in, panic slowly gaining control over his motor skills. His arms sprang into action and began pushing the metallic object directly on top of him. It had a solid weight to it but soon it gave way, causing him to wince in pain as the metal piercing his shoulder seemed to be attached to the object. With a loud grunt he pushed the metal to the side and clawed his way out, overcome by panic caused by extremely close quarters and a lack of oxygen. Then he looked around and his panic faded.
Bodies were strewn about, some mutilated, dismembered or even utterly unrecognizable. He realized he was standing close to the top of a small heap of bodies and tripped in his haste while trying to get off it, onto solid ground. The fall wasn't big, only a few feet so he quickly stood up, very much intent on fleeing this place, whatever it was.
"Where in the name of fuck are you Francis?" He mumbled to himself while surveying his surroundings. Francis! That was his name! "Shit, I must have a solid lump on my head if I'm having trouble recalling my own goddamn name." He appeared to be in a forested area, and small fires burned weakly around him, despite the ground being rather damp. Was it from the rain or… blood? All of his instincts were telling him to run, to flee and never look back.
The silence was deafening. Nothing but the soft crackle of nearby fires could be heard and it was more than a little unnerving. He looked down and separated his black N7 shirt, a remnant of his gamer days, and inspected at his injury. It seemed to be a few inches deep, certainly deep enough to warrant concern and yet, only a shallow trickle of blood oozed from it. No matter, he would worry about his injuries later; now was the time to get the hell outa dodge.
Despite his instincts screaming at him to run as fast as he could, he crept around slowly, not willing to draw the attention of whoever or whatever was responsible for that mound of bodies. It may have been a trick of his panicked mind but for a fraction of a second, he thought he heard sounds of struggle around him. Before he could check it out, he caught a figure rising from a hunched position several yards away from him. The figure seemed to gaze directly at him now, it looked… strange. Its limbs were long and lanky and even though it could pass for a human, he had a sneaky suspicion that may not be the case.
Fire burned directly behind the figure and its blaze seemed to obscure its facial features but despite its present passive stance, Francis slowly turned to start running the other way. In an instant the creature was upon him, barreling into his side with tremendous force that knocked the wind out of him. Light shone into his eyes briefly as metal slashed through the air and he caught the creature's hand in the last moment. The creature was strong, not the explosive type of strength he had felt during his few years of martial arts training, but the strength wrought from a life of hard physical labor. Out of reflex he wrapped his legs around the creature's waist and straightened his abdomen to push it away, all the while keeping the knife hand away from him. He was far from a great grappler but he knew enough to best this thing, despite it being armed. Flipping this thing onto its back proved to be simpler than Francis had anticipated and soon he had it on the defensive, pushing the serrated knife in its hands, back towards its heaving chest. Fire illuminated its face now; it could have been human once but those days were long gone. The creature began screaming in anger and soon after, in terror, as it realized it was losing this battle. When the knife finally pierced its skin it let out a wild, high pitched howl before its limbs relaxed and fell to the sides, lifeless. That is when all hell broke loose.
Equal howls erupted from all sides, as if to respond to the dying call of the fallen creature. He wasn't wrong when he thought he had heard rustling and grunts before, as human screams filled the air alongside the inhuman howls. Unwilling to waste any more time, he snatched the knife out of the creature's cramped hands and began running. There seemed to be a battle taking place as he heard the clang of metal on metal mixed in with the howls of agony and death. He couldn't see the battle, only silhouettes of armed individuals or groups clashing against each other. There was no order, no formations, just pure chaos, and so he ran on.
Francis did his best to avoid any major point of conflict; he was no warrior after all. He felt more like a lost lamb headed for slaughter than a skilled fighter. His head was pounding, his mind working overtime to make sense of what was going on around him, all the while his body was being pumped full of adrenaline to speed him along and dull the pain of his injury. After sprinting around a large tree, he barreled into two more creatures, knocking one to the ground and stumbling awkwardly from the unexpected impact. The other wasted no time however, as it slashed its curved blade towards his neck. He ducked as quickly as he could, feeling the rush of air on the top of his head. Too close for comfort. With a violent thrust Francis jammed his knife into the creature's throat and pulled to the side, cutting its jugular vein. He rounded on the other creature, hoping he had been fast enough in getting rid of its companion but it just stood there, mid swing, an arrow protruding from its left eye before collapsing into a twitching heap. He caught a glimpse of the archer in the distance, a slender figure already in motion, as it was fleeing their own pursuers.
"Can't do much to help you out now." He mumbled to himself and turned to leave. Suddenly, the world seemed to slow down, he could hear his own heart pounding in his chest, his elongated breaths and most of all, an overwhelming sense of foreboding. As if he had suddenly acquired a sixth sense for danger, he threw himself to the side a fraction of a second before something large struck the side of the tree where he had been standing, ripping it partially out of the ground. This creature was something else, towering easily over 10 feet in height, its muscular body was riddled with scars and what could only be war trophies. Francis couldn't do anything but gape at the monstrosity as it roared head first, bearing its unnaturally large fangs toward him. This time he ran faster than he had ever done in his whole life.
"Shit! Shit! SHIT!" He yelled out as the creature began its chase, the ground shaking from the impact of its heavy legs. Luckily, the forest was dense enough to prevent the creature from reaching its top speed as it had to push through, or go around larger tree trunks, so Francis managed to put some distance between them. The smaller creatures he could understand somewhat but that… Where in the world could something like that roam free? "You're not in Kansas anymore, Frankie." He spat begrudgingly and ran on.
Upon reaching a large clearing he saw a sizable group of people, roughly twenty by his count, fiercely battling the rabid creatures. They seemed to be holding their own and even managed to down a fair amount of those creatures, a dozen or so already lying at their feet. This fight seemed doable so Francis ran toward them when a volley of arrows mowed down almost half of the creatures that still stood, causing the remaining few to retreat in fear.
"Hey!" He yelled to get the group's attention, while lifting his hands in the air. "You there! We have to move, there's something chas…" His voice caught as he caught a glimpse of a familiar face, his old friend from almost a lifetime ago. He approached the group, staring at her intently and she squinted her eyes in turn, obviously perplexed at what she was seeing. "Victoria?" He said while trying to still his breath from the long run. "Is that you?"
"No Way… Francis? Why are y… What is going…" She kept firing halves of questions before they just collided in a hug. She wasn't in a better state than he was, her clothes were torn, her face bloodied and swollen above the eye and she clutched what appeared to be a spear so tightly that her fingers turned white.
"Viki, what's going on here, where the fuck are we?" Francis spoke into her ear, still holding the hug before releasing slowly.
"I uh, I have no clue. I just found myself in this place and there were corpses everywhere and then these creatures came so I ran and ran until I couldn't run anymore. These guys saved me." She turned her head to gesture at the equally ragged band of men and women, clutching clunky, archaic weapons. The group of archers perched up on a sizable rock next to them seemed to be in better shape and weirdly enough, they were all women.
"We don't know where to go but we have to run!" Vicotria said with desperation obvious in her voice. Behind them stood a large cliff with what seemed to be a narrow passage, fit for one person to pass through at a time. Francis nodded towards the passage while adding: "This is our way out. At least through here, the big one can't follow." The group didn't waste time arguing and took off towards the narrow pass but the forest was eerily quiet again.
Upon reaching the pass, they ushered the women to go first before the men began pushing through as well, a few of them even dropping their weapons in favor of speed. Francis was at the back of the line, facing the large clearing to make sure nothing followed and turned to enter the pass once everyone was through. Once again a jolt of pain pulsed violently through his body and pinned him to the ground, as a black fletched arrow struck the back of his right leg. More arrows flew above him, aimed at those already in the pass but none seemed to hit.
"Francis!" Victoria's panicked shriek could be heard echoing from the narrow passage. She yelled out a few more times while trying to push past the men that had followed her in. Francis could hear muffled sounds of "No!" and "Leave him!" as she desperately fought the incoming mass of bodies. The ground was shaking again; the beast had found them and this time he couldn't outrun it. Strangely, he felt no fear. He stood up, favoring his left leg and bent down to break the arrow protruding from the front and pulled it out the back. Warm blood spilled from the wound but it didn't hurt a whole lot, he even put some pressure on it and still it was numb. He knew he couldn't run though, not from the smaller creatures, but still a sense of calm overtook him as he dropped his knife in favor of a battered broadsword, roughly 3 feet in length that had been dropped by one of the fleeing men. He looked towards the pass and saw Victoria still struggle with the crowd, tears in her eyes but her cries couldn't be heard anymore. All he could do is smile at her encouragingly before turning around to face what was coming.
This time there wasn't a small band of wild creatures facing him; this was practically an army, with the hulking horned beast at their front. Both of their flanks split from the main force to go around both sides of the cliff, most likely attempting to cut off the ragtag group of humans. Even with them gone, the warband easily numbered fifty howling creatures, being held back by the large one's authority alone.
Francis caught and held the gaze of the obvious leader and pointed his bettered sword at it as if to challenge it. "Come on then, beastie. I'm ready for my last dance."