"Blessed are they who stand before
The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.
Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."
- Benedictions 4:10, The Chant of Light
Prologue – The Witch
The Wilds were desolate and half-frozen at this time of year. The trees gutted of leaves and wildlife, the landscape graced with no flowers or decorative fauna; only a thick sludge of half set snow and mud.
A young woman interrupted the eerie silence of the scene, her boots crunching ice as she walked through forestry, scowling as she went. She occasionally paused on her journey to adjust the furs around her shoulders or to pluck some item of interest from the ground to add to the basket she carried.
Weak sunlight was just beginning to filter across from the east when the woman dropped her basket and became dead still, head cocked slightly. She threw up her hands, a sphere of lightening appearing in both palms as a creature the like of which she'd never seen before fell upon her, an inhuman battle cry sounding from it. The mage jerked back in fear and disgust and the sight of the thing – it had a vaguely human shape but the flesh of it was black and rotten, it's features twisted and corrupt, she fumbled in her initial terror but still sent a burst of lightening toward the creature, causing it to back away slightly snarling.
Scrambling to put distance between herself and the monster, the young witch began to run back toward the direction she'd walked from, abandoning her basket of gathered herbs. She occasionally turned back to throw a bolt of magic toward her attacker. She felt her energy begin to wane as she ran, and to her horror her mana too seemed to be running out.
The creature was gaining on her, reaching its clawed hands towards her. The young witch stumbled and fell as the last of her energy deserted her; she turned towards the monster again though, snarling slightly as a fierce desperation for survival overtook her. She didn't have enough mana left to cast even a simple spell and wasn't carrying any lyrium potions, however she did have a small knife in her belt that she'd been using to gather cuttings of plants, the woman quickly pulled it lose and swiped the blade at the creature as it fell upon her. The monstrous thing gave an outraged cry, the knife had only made a superficial wound but it had enraged the beast all the same. It attacked the mage again, snapping its jaws, and knocked the small weapon away from her. The witch cried out in fear and hid behind her hands in a weak attempt to protect herself, willing her mana to recharge enough for a jet of flames to end the beast.
Just as the mage closed her eyes and waited for her death she heard the sounds of another person or creature approaching, and then she felt the cold effect of an ice spell followed by stone fist. The battle was done within seconds and as the younger mage recovered terror left her, quickly to be replaced by shame.
"I was beginning to think, Morrigan, that you had finally mastered some small part of your powers. How disappointed you must be to have proven me wrong. " The residue of the spells cleared and an old woman stood in front of the fallen girl. Flemeth: the Witch of the Wilds.
The younger woman bristled at the mocking tone and got back on her feet as quickly as her protesting muscles allowed, carefully keeping a neutral expression despite the pain.
"Mother. You've my thanks, but t'was nothing I could not have handled."
The old woman laughed at that, a cracked, rusted sound mixed with gleeful malice "Foolish girl, you could handle that creature no more than you can speak Orlesian or bake a sweet roll! You hold your tongue. You'll pay more attention in your lessons now, girl, unless you wish to be a corpse."
Morrigan's expression soured and she folded her arms, falling into a defensive posture, but didn't say anything as Flemeth walked towards the dead body of the creature, nudging it onto its back with the tip of her boot. The old mage crouched down next to it, running her hands along the cracked, blackened flesh of the thing, closing her eyes and appearing to be deep in thought.
"Yes, I suspected as much." She murmured to herself softly, an amused smile wrinkling her face further.
"What is it?" Morrigan asked, caving to her curiously in spite of herself.
"Darkspawn" The old witch said, darting a glance at her daughter to gauge her reaction. "You know what this means girl?"
"A blight," Morrigan replied breathlessly "Just as you said there'd be."
"Oh yes." The Witch of the Wilds gave a short cackle, the noise matching the demented grin she now wore. "Oh, old Flemeth's plan will soon be in motion. Dark days are upon us indeed, but Flemeth has her pieces in place and soon she will reap the rewards. This is where the adventure begins, child."
To be continued.
Disclaimer: Dragon Age is the IP of Bioware, everything you recognise in this story belongs to them. I'm just playing with their toys.
AN: Hi readers, this will be a retelling of Dragon Age: Origins with quite a few significant twists and turns added to the plot. Really hope you enjoy this story, would love to hear your feedback either way. Also please not I intend to switch POV for each chapter in a similar style to A Song of Ice and Fire as that series has convinced me that that is an awesome way to portray a story with lots of interweaving plots. I will note the POV next to the chapter.