Good evening everyone, Glader here. Let us get the ball rolling; here is the first chapter of Dragon Age Origins: Dragon Slayer
As the sun slowly falls beyond the horizon and dark clouds cover once blue sky, a light sheet of soft white snow melts off the still cooling corpse of a blue and red dragon. Next to the body is a young man of strong stature and lightly tanned skin, with silvery-white hair, sea-green eyes, and adorned in ornate silver colored dragon bone armor. In his grip is a beautiful great-sword that gleams both gold and silver, still wet and dripping with the blood of its latest victim.
The young man stared intently at the now dead draconian query, his every breath throwing a cloud of steam into the cooling air.
"My Lord!" A gravely voice calls out, tearing the young man's attention from the corpse. Turning away from the dragon the young man's eyes focused on his approaching second-in-command; a Nevarran by the name of Callas Tartham.
Callas Tartham could not be described as a tall man at 5'2; especially compared to his commander's intimidating 6'1 stature. Callas was, however, quite stout with arms and legs thick with muscle, broad shoulders, a bald head, and early greying beard. Strapped to the back of his dragon bone-silverite plate armor was a large war hammer, with a large dragon fang forming the hammer's head.
"News out of Ferelden, my Lord." Callas announced, dark emotions swirling and making his pale blue eyes look like shards of ice. "Our supply runners report gossip in Cumberland about Darkspawn south of someplace called the Kocari Wilds. There are whispers of a Blight, the first to originate from within Ferelden's borders."
Without hesitation the young man began marching in the direction his second had come from. With a flick of his wrist the dragon blood staining the great sword gone, now staining the pure snow red, before returning the magnificent blade to an it's sheath on his back. His march carried him past his second-in-command and as he passed his voice rang out; flat but throaty.
"I'm leaving Callas, my homeland needs me; my family needs me. You are in charge of the Order until get back, assuming I survive of course."
A small frown formed onto Callas' aged face as he turned to follow his chosen lord.
"You have a number of soldiers at your disposal, my Lord. Allow us to accompany and assist you in this endeavor."
"Sir Callas." The young lord released a mirthless laugh. "These men follow me for the chance to hunt dragons, not to fight Darkspawn. I doubt they would agree to join me to fight in a Blight; nor would I want to ask it of them, it is not their burden nor their home in danger."
Callas' smile turned into a small, unseen, knowing smile as he and his lord came to a stop at the edge of a shear cliff. Situated below them a large sprawling campsite, filled with hundreds of tents and dotted with bonfires, was busy as man and women hurriedly did a number of tasks. Some broke down extra tents and packed away nonessential gear, while others harvested useful parts of dragonlings and drakes with as much speed as they could muster.
"My Lord." Callas grinned. "I made and announcement to the troops before I came to relay the news to you. I had expected you to respond to the news like this; so, I told the soldiers that you were going to leave for you homeland."
Within the camp a sudden loud barking grabbed the attention of every person in the valley. A young but large dog, a Mabari, dashed out of the largest tent in camp and sprinted his way up a rocky mountain trail until he found his place at his master's side on the top of the shear cliff. With a small smile the tanned young man reached down and rubbed the dog's head before refocusing on the older Nevarran knight.
"As I was saying." Callas smiled at the dog and its master. "I told them that you were going to face the Blight and I asked who would come with me to assist you."
Abruptly Callas snapped his feet together before pounding his chest plate, above his heart, three times with his right hand. The nearest people in the camp; hearing the banging of metal on metal, looked up and upon seeing Callas saluting the younf lord, mimicked the gesture. This caused a chain reaction that ended with every person I the camp saluting; the combined chest beats sending a resounding echo throughout the snowy NEvarran mountains. The salute was then followed by a roar of approval, loyalty, and excitement that shook the earth beneath their feet.
"Lord Artorias Cousland." Sir Callas struggled to have his voice heard over the noise of the troops bellow. "Every and woman here has agreed to follow you to Ferelden; the Order of Balmung stands with you, our grandmaster."
"If that's the case." Artorias' mouth stretched into a wide grin and his sea-green eyes sparkled like the ocean in the morn. "Get everyone to triple time their packing; I want to be on the move by first light tomorrow, and booking passage for us in Cumberland by the day after. Also get a team to harvest that young Kaltenzhn; not only will I need a good gift to bribe my parents to forgive my departure, but the winters in Ferelden can get quite cold and that beast's hide will make for a nice leather cloak."
