Chapter 3: Packing.
Freya was stood outside, next to the freshly dug hole contemplating what had happened. Yes some Templar's were dead but so was her Mother...Morrigan taught her that if she died just to move on just as quickly as the grass grew. Like she said 'survive first, grieve after.'
But she couldn't, not until this "Lazarus" was dead.
She shook her head, scattering her thoughts away. She needed to go soon. Freya went back inside the blood spattered hut, to pick up her Mother's body. She looked down at her Mother's face; it was peaceful and serene, with just a hint of a smile. Knowing that she would not hear her Mother's voice, or see her ever again for that fact, made Freya burst out in tears for her Mother. She sucked in a deep breath, only to be choked by the offensive smell of the Templar corpses. She took the body outside, and gently laid it in the earthen hole. Freya took in a depth breath;
"Allacantu, prescanhu, thante, desaputus, boodisa, sopac!" Morrigan's body began to glow, as beams of light descended upon her. Then just as they came, they went.
Freya started to fill the hole again. Then it hit her, she needed something to mark the grave. She had finished filling the grave, so she went back inside the foul hut, and rummaged around 'till she found her Mother's staff. It was a large oak tree branch that had been blackened by magic, chains of enchanted beads hung of the protruding twigs. She rushed out, with the staff in hand to the grave site. And stuck the staff right in the earth. No doubt someone will try to steal this...she thought, as she came up with an idea.
She brought her hands to her chest, then flung them towards the staff as a blue fire swirled from her hands and encircled the staff, then disappeared.
She brought her hands to her side, and bowed her head in respect. "Goodbye Mother, I am sorry, this was my fault, but I intend to set it right. I bless you, that your body suffer no affliction, and that you may prosper in the afterlife. I love you so much, but it is time I got going. I will come back don't worry; I also cursed your staff so that the unsuspecting thief will get a...nasty shock. Though we had little time, you taught me well and even though I'm supposed to be the higher spectre, your teachings will guide me for years to come. For this I thank you, and know that I will always be grateful for what you have given me, and for this I will avenge you." Her voice kept breaking, but at the last bit, her voice was clear and strong.
She took in a deep breath to calm herself; she needed to focus now as she had an important task if front of her. She went back into the nose offending hut, to collect her few possessions. She spotted the familiar animal skin hung up on the wall; she chuckled with humorous memory of their first meeting.
Her head started to fill with hateful thoughts towards the stupid, ignorant and self righteous "Templar's" and their idiotic Chantry. She then got an idea; she picked up two of the decaying corpses, trying not to gag at the smell. As soon she walked out the door, she summoned forth her true form, scorching the bodies a tad. She let out a relieving breath as she stretched out her wings. The decaying bodies felt as if they were bags of feathers.
She looked up at the night sky, the stars were many, grouped together in such a way that it looked like they were a celestial army, storming down from the sky's, with the glowing moon as their general. Her wings and armour blended in well with the darkness as she flew over the countless pilgrim camps. Finally her wings came to halt, as she landed at the entrance of the once dragon cult full, village of Haven. Laughing quite sadistically, she summoned forth forgotten magic and she chained, the Templar's decaying bodies to the wooden planks that made the entrance archway.
She stood in front of the dead senior templar's body, which was nailed on the actual archway. With one swipe of her dragon talon, like hands, she ripped of the chest guard off of the corpse. A horrendous smell was released. All she did was smile, as she took the same sword that slit her Mother's throat, and slashed a curse into the body's chest.
AKHMET, NE RU DAGHLA KRU!
No man athla graluh mano!
Vexnah nura hathla purgru!
Arro dura destru man no!
She watch the dark, congealed blood drip sluggishly down the almost blue body. As she turned to walk, she thought it was best if the village of hypocrites, sycophants and ignorance came to an end. With that she clenched her dragon hands, as she walked away, and listened to the screaming as the village ignited the night sky.
Next stop, Redcliffe.