Author's note: Aaaand here is chapter 7, the long-awaited final Orzammar chapter. I have tried my best to get this out to you as soon as possible; all writing on my other chapter stories has ceased until this story is complete. Only two chapters remain; the Landsmeet, and the one we are all waiting for: the final battle. Not much longer, my friends, until we say goodbye to Zevran…and possibly more characters. Thank you to all who have reviewed/favorite/followed/read this series so far. Special thanks to Apollo-Wings, Raven Sinead and FenixV for their continued support and love of this story. You guys are what pushed me to continue this, so thank you! I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age in any way, and I do not profit from any of my stories. They are just for fun.
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I woke up this morning feeling relaxed and ready to take down a menacing female dwarf who is terrorizing the entirety of Orzammar. I stretched my muscles like a cat, delighting in the luxury of having lain on an actual bed to sleep. This has not happened in months; it is the little things like this that you do not think you would miss, but it pangs you terribly when you have to go without. My thigh muscles burned delightfully; Maker, but that dwarf was a firecracker in bed! I have sample many wines; tall and fruity, dark and needed to be kept at a certain temperature, and some that I would not have examined so closely if I had not partaken in some of the finest Antivan wine beforehand. But this woman…I should move to Orzammar! Apparently I have going after the wrong types. Maybe after we finish up in the Deep Roads, if we do not get dragged away and become food for the Darkspawn, I shall give her something to remember me by…other than the various marks, of course.
Ah well, an elf cannot daydream for very long. I quickly dressed in my usual attire, belting on my trusty daggers with ease. After I was ready for our trek, I sauntered to the door. I bestowed my bedmate one last longing look, before vacating the room, heading into unknown waters. I met my companions in the foyer, where we had met Harrowmont the day before. Reyn and Harrowmont were already deep into discussion, heads bent together and urgent whispering barely drifting towards my sensitive ears. Leliana walked over to me, her ice blue eyes staring at her lover, like she was wont to do when our leader was not firmly attached at her side. The bard filled me in on what I had missed; we were to find out where Jarvia's headquarters was, and infiltrate it. After venturing into her lair, we had to find the target and apprehend her. That, or kill her. She would be the one to pick the option. After we nabbed Jarvia, we would report back to Harrowmont, and then delve into the Deep Roads to find the missing Paragon Branka. It would turn the vote in Harrowmont's favor, if we were to get her on our side. So far, Jarvia sounds like a safer option…
About this time, Reyn had finished talking. She stood up, eyes focused on the mission at hand. Morrigan and Alistair stopped their bickering, looking to the Warden for details. She nodded her head slightly, gesturing for us to get the job over and done with. Shale was gleeful; she truly did love to squish humans as much as she did pigeons…well, maybe not quite as much. Sten looked ready to try out Asala; we had helped him find it right before we came to Orzammar. Everyone else adopted grim expressions. We wished Harrowmont goodbye, and he in turn gave us his luck. Reyn led us to Dust Town, basically the poor district. The casteless and beggars made their homes there, if you could call it a home. We interrogated some of the poor people, gaining what little information we could about Jarvia and her carta. Unfortunately, Jarvia had instilled terror in these people, and they were not very forthcoming with details. Thankfully, a beggar named Nadezda agreed to tell us what we needed to know. A former member of the carta herself until her kneecaps were cruelly broken and infection was made to set in, Nadezda told us of a fingerbone that every carta member possessed in order to gain entrance into the various entryways that led into the hideout. For giving us this information, Reyn generously gave the woman a considerable sum of coin, causing the beggar to thank us profusely.
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Leliana and I inspected the door Nadezda had pointed us to, examining it for any traps detrimental for our code of staying alive. We found none. Leliana also tried to jimmy the lock, but to no avail. Reyn sighed in frustration; we would just have to wait until some members came along. Morrigan was staring at an unremarkable door as this went along, a thoughtful expression on her face. She pointed out the door to the rest of the group, telling us that a sixth sense of hers was imploring her that the answer to our problem was just inside. Alistair scoffed at this, making a joke of it and pissing Morrigan off; you know, the usual. Though Alistair was skeptical, the rest of us knew that Morrigan did not make useless statements, unless of course she was bantering with our other resident Warden. Surprisingly, even Wynne sided with Morrigan; after all, what would it hurt us to just check the building real quick? We were just standing around like bumps on a log, so actually investigating something was the infinitely better of the two. So, we made a beeline for the door. Lo and behold, there were a few carta aficionados in there; after a brief scuffle, we managed to beat the members and secure our little white key into the hideout. We let the vanquished thugs go; they would not have a leader soon, when we had our way.
We exited the small dilapidated building and headed to the…other dilapidated building, across the small, dusty square. Reyn took hold of the bone, sticking it in the little hole. The door gave a small click sound, granting us the entrance we needed. We all looked at one another; it was time to get down to business. Immediately upon entering, a gruff dwarf asked us for a password. Reyn, looking completely straight-faced, told him the password was ass-sword. The dwarves faces were priceless. The senior one asked why exactly she thought that was the password. Without breaking character, she said it was because she was fixing to stick Starfang up his short, stubby ass. Then, in a lightning-fast movement, she darted forward, burying her blue blade in the dwarf's chest. The others watched in horrified fascination as the dying dwarf croaked his last breath, slowly sliding down the lethal steel in a spray of blood. The Warden nonchalantly cleaned her sword until it once again glowed, asking the others if they were eager to meet the same fate. Apparently they were more scared of Jarvia, for they attacked us. They did not last overly long. We left the bodies lying there, venturing further into the place. There were various rooms and tunnels to explore, all filled with more men eager for their demise. We made paste out of them all, no mercy given.
There were several chests filled with spoils along the way, alongside various pieces of fairly good armor. We took what we could carry, leaving the rest for later. Even if we could, or did not, use them, they would pick up fair coin in the market. We kept up our pace, fighting the enemies that came our way. In one of the small alcoves was a small area dedicated to housing misfortunates. There was a rotting corpse in one, in the latter stages of decomposition. In the other was a dwarf by the name of Leske. After listening to what he had to say, we released him and he ran off, boots echoing in the dimly-lit tunnels. We continued on, plowing ahead. Our goal was close, we could practically feel it. Finally we came to a large room; Jarvia decided to show her…surprisingly glorious face. Hmm, suddenly I really do not want to have to kill her. She looks like she would be fun to play with…I bet her endurance is remarkable. Alas, it was not to be. Jarvia chose not to surrender and vacate the premises quietly, so we would have to put the dog down. What followed was a gloriously epic fight, much more so than many others. Reyn took off after the carta leader, while the rest of us had to contend with her many followers. A stubby, muscular dwarf came after me, swinging his axe with a loud battle cry. I easily dodged, locking my legs together at the end of it and shooting my arm out towards his stomach; a dagger was firmly in hand. I really think the dwarf needed to see a doctor…he had a rather sizeable hole in his middle. Not very healthy if you ask me. I left him and went over to help Leliana, who was taking on three men. With my added expertise, we made quick work of them. Wynne was busy healing Alistair on the fly, since he had a cut on his upper forearm. Sten was swinging his massive sword around, and Shale was squishing the hapless dwarves with her fists of justice. And Reyn…well, she was doing what she does best: kicking ass while looking amazing. Jarvia was admittedly a skilled combatant, but she was no match for the noble swordswoman. Before long, Reyn's blade had slipped through the dwarf's defense, plunging deep into her chest. She spluttered, trying unsuccessfully to take in more air through her ruined chest. Reyn's eyes were cold as she looked upon her fallen foe; the woman would get no pity for her death, not when she had made others go through a death far worse than the one she was experiencing. Jarvia gently fell off the blade, body thumping to the ground. The deed was done.
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We ended up finding a secret door; the pathway actually led to Janar Armorers. Janar…he was not too happy to see us. For one…we kind of left a hole in his wall. Two, he was afraid of the carta thinking of him as an accessory to Jarvia's murder. And three, we gave his young daughter hope of getting into the Circle of Magi. So, he quickly shooed us out, but not before I flashed my dagger at him. He shrank away in fear, not meeting my eyes. Reyn caught the movement; smirking, she pulled me away and out the door. We reported back to Harrowmont. Pleased with our success, he briefed us in on our final mission before the new king was elected and before the dwarves would become our allies. We were to find Branka, the missing paragon and the head of House Branka. We had also promised a young dwarf to find documents in the Ortan Thaig, so she could find out if she was indeed the last surviving member of the house. Also, an older woman named Filda implored us to find her missing son, Ruck. We are supposedly all softies now, so we took both of these little sidequests. Harrowmont's kindly eyes took us in, as if memorizing our features. Respect shone from his eyes like the very beacon from the Tower of Ishal. We left his generous hospitality with the parting words of, "ready the crown, sir! Because you will soon be wearing it!" It was a short walk to the Deep Road's entrance; we had just gotten the guarding dwarves posted there to let us through when a short, bushy-haired dwarf came up to us. The flame-headed brute was named Oghren, and he was apparently married to Branka, the very woman we were looking for.
Oghren, obviously a little buzzed, gruffly asked to come with us. When Reyn tried to dissuade him from accompanying our group, he countered with his intimate knowledge of the tunnels and thaigs, as he had actually been down there before. He even had a map with him; a useful treasure for our hunt. Reyn was obviously torn; you could smell the alcohol on the dwarf, and we already had a large group. Although having more manpower could be good in fights with a large horde, it also made it impossible to hide should the need arise. We were quite noticeable. It was I who effectively coerced her into letting Oghren join; his use far outweighed the risks and cons. Morrigan surprisingly agreed with me; are the Darkspawn flying, now? No? The others saw the potential of the partnership as well, and our leader allowed him to accompany us. As a heartfelt thank you for letting him into our folds, Oghren promptly let loose with a torrent of the foulest wind ever known to Ferelden. Far worse than the Mabari, far, far worse. Morrigan almost froze him right there, if not for Alistair and Leliana hurriedly distracting her. He stayed far away from the witch, and Shale too. He could tell her favorite pastime was squishing things.
Upon first entering the Deep Roads, we were all struck dumb by the sheer beauty of the architecture. The work was astounding; it is a shame that the Darkspawn have taken over the thaigs. I can see now why the dwarves are always grumpy looking and walk like something is shoved in their backside. We were accosted by Darkspawn soon after entering one of the tunnels off the beaten path. They did not take us long to take down. We continued on, battling various bursts of the foul creatures as well as these lizard-things called Deepstalkers. Annoying little buggers; one of them nearly ripped a whole in the boots Reyn gave to me as a gift! We ended up in Aeducan Thaig, the last place to be overrun. It was the same name taken by the previous king, and Bhelen as well. We explored it, making note of any interesting items or spots. It had not sign of anything of total relevance, however. Caridin's Cross was our next big stop. Some dwarves hired by Bhelen attack us, but they were too few for our large group. Within mere seconds, all were dead. This place was far larger than the other one, and we covered a lot of ground. Darkspawn and enemies littered the place; it was exhausting work, but we defeated each and every threat that charged at us. Oghren looked at the map; we were close to the Ortan Thaig. More beasts appeared before we could head that way; Leliana traded in her bow for her dagger in this encounter. Shale pummeled one, before throwing it into another one. Reyn blocked a strike from a Hurlock with her shield, forcing it back with a burst of strength. Then she struck it hard in the face with the hard metal shield, the face caving in. After cleaning up a tad, we followed the desired path. It did not take too long to find the documents young Orta requested of us; Reyn pocketed them so they would not fall out.
Not just Darkspawn haunted these tunnels; angry dwarven spirits tried to attack us (really, how effective is a ghost sword supposed to be? Honestly?) as well as spiders corrupted by the Darkspawn taint. After cutting a bloody swath all around the Ortan Thaig, we found a slightly smaller tunnel. It was off the beaten path, but the promise of maybe finding more weapons and armor made it worth it. We were keeping our eye out for Ruck as well; maybe this path would lead to him, or give clues to his whereabouts. After walking for a few minutes, a shadow caught my eye. A small, hunched dwarf started fleeing from us when he saw he had been spotted. We gave chase; the unknown person yelled out, causing a small wave of spiders to attack us. After killing them all, we followed the same tunnel, hoping to find the dwarf. Turns out, he was Ruck. The guy told us a tragic tale; he had accidentally killed one of the dwarves in his party when they had traveled there years ago, and instead of staying and getting exiled, he ran away. In order to survive, he had to make tough decisions regarding his food…he was forced to devour Darkspawn corpses. Thus, Ruck had been tainted. I guess the trade-off was nice…they did not bother him any. Ruck made us promise to tell his mother he had died so she would only have good memories of him. Reyn looked absolutely conflicted; on one hand, she loathed lying, and she had told Filda she would bring her son back. But, Ruck had a point. He was not the same boy that had first entered the tunnels five years ago, and seeing him in this state might be too much for her to handle. I personally thought it would be a mercy to end his suffering; death was far preferable to this. Shale, Sten and Morrigan agreed. I did not think Reyn could kill him, unfortunately. It just was not in her nature. So, I was surprised when she did just that. She quickly drove her blade into his chest, making it as quick and painless as possible. Afterwards, she held his body in her arms, tears streaming down her face while we somberly looked on. It was heartbreaking and tragic, yes, but it had to be done. We buried him as well as we could, and moved on.
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Reyn was quiet as we walked. I could tell that Ruck's fate weighed heavily on her mind. I placed my hand on her shoulder, expressing with my eyes what I thought. Blue-green eyes, rich with sadness, stared deep into my own. After a few seconds, a brief smile flitted across her face, and she gave a tiny nod. I smiled back, glad to have been able to ease the pain somewhat. Leliana gave me a grateful look. We soon came to a clearing infested with more arachnids thirsty for our blood. The queen of the spiders made her appearance as well. I headed straight for the queen, thinking that maybe if she fell, the spiders would escape. Confident the others would keep the spiders off my back, I launched myself at the queen, using my dagger to harry her and generally piss her off, like I do with most females. Dark blood dripped from a wound on her side; I moved forward, intent on ending the fight quickly. The spider queen was faster than I thought; she leapt at me, taking me down under her massive girth. Her fangs lowered until they were distended over my face. Poisonous venom dripped onto my face, causing me to scream as my flesh burned. Before any more damage could be done, or my face getting eaten off, the spider was ripped off of my body. I saw Reyn and Shale fighting the beast; Starfang and a pair of rocky fists soon turned the spider into a puddle of mush and venom. Leliana had brought Wynne to my side; she healed my face, telling me that I would have a tiny scar on my cheek. That's okay; chicks dig scars. I…probably should not have told Wynne that as she was healing my burns-that, or I should not have offered to give her a more up-close and personal look at the new scars…while lying comfortably in each other's arms with not a stitch of clothing on us. She can be quite vindictive; healing should not hurt like that.
Well, enduring the burns and annoying spider battles was actually beneficial. Branka's Journal just so happened to be situated right behind the makeshift battlefield. In it, the paragon talked about discovering the Anvil was not in fact made in the Ortan Thaig; so she and her house traveled into the Dead Trenches, where hopefully the Anvil would be found. Her house thought her mad; I tend to agree with them. She also gave a shout-out to Oghren, who was beside himself with happiness that she remembered him. I am not sure, but my instincts are telling me that there is more to this Branka than he knows. My gut is telling me that something dark has gone on, and that she is not the amazing paragon everyone thinks her to be. Well, I guess we shall soon find out. The Dead Trenches await.
We are in hell. That is the only thing close enough to describe this place. Dead Trenches is an apt name indeed. Darkspawn are crawling everywhere; thankfully, a platoon of Legion of the Dead dwarves is here, and they help us clean house. After Reyn impressively mounted an Ogre and slew him, we went over to talk to the leader of the group, Kardol. He gave us some good information, and we moved on after saying our goodbyes. We moved deep into the underbelly of the fetid place, taking out more and more tainted beasts in our quest to find Branka. A chilling poem assails our ears as we plow deeper, causing our bones to freeze and our blood to turn to ice. We looked at each other, wondering who was saying the poem and what the poem was referring to. I had an idea, but I hoped to the Maker it was not so. I could tell by Reyn's eyes that she had also figured it out; her skin was pale, and she looked sick. But, we kept our pace and moved on, getting closer to the mystery poem-reciter. The mystery woman turned out to be Hespith, a former captain of House Branka and, surprisingly, her lover. Boy was Oghren pissed when he heard that. He was not too pleased that his wife had cheated on him with a woman; talk about ruining a guy's masculine. She recited the poem again, for our benefit.
First day, they come and catch everyone.
Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.
Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.
Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.
Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn.
Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.
Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.
Eighth day, we hate it as she is violated.
Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.
Now she does feast, as she's become the beast.
Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams.
Creepy, huh? Yeah I thought so too. Hespith then told us of Branka's madness, and the lengths she had gone to to find the Anvil. It was quite horrific; Branka had willingly sacrificed her house to use as test dummies. She had let the men get torn apart by the Darkspawn, and the women ravaged and transformed into…things. Broodmother…that is what the women became. That is what Laryn became. The scene around her…dead everywhere. The remains of House Branka were scattered around us, nothing more than bloodstains or bloody bodies on pikes. I have seen many horrible things in my time, most that would curl your blood and cause nightmares. But this…no words could describe it. I will never forget the sight, even if I live to be a hundred. Hespith soon fled, leaving us with a cold we could not abate. We slowly headed on, clutching our weapons tighter to us, waiting for the evil that was spoken of the become reality. We…would not be disappointed.
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Hespith's words could in no way prepare us for what we would face ahead. Broodmother…the memory of seeing it for the first time, seeing what Laryn became…it haunts my thoughts. When we opened the doors leading into the chamber holding the transformed dwarf, walking down the tunnels and mentally preparing ourselves for what was to come, we were in no way ready for the sight that greeted us. Laryn was huge; tentacles coming out of her and rows of teats going down her distended body. It was grotesque, and I tried valiantly not to be sick. Fighting it was even worse. Her tentacles kept flopping around, smashing hard in the spots we were in not a minute before, dodging before we met a crushing demise. She called Darkspawn to her as well; Reyn made sure all the women of the group were protected in a little huddle, kept well away from the thoroughfare in front of our eyes. Reyn, Alistair and Sten all went for the frontal assault; they attacked the Broodmother with their blades. Raines and Oghren we made to protect Morrigan, Wynne and Leliana while the three women used magic and arrows to fell the encroaching Darkspawn and their mother. Shale took turns between throwing huge rocks at our enemies and keeping them off the girls' backs. The fight seemed to go on forever, but finally, after what seemed like hours of dancing around and waving swords, Reyn dashed forward, taking a leap of faith and jumping high up in the air, bringing Starfang down in a vicious assault. The blade stabbed deep into the fatty flesh, cutting through easily. The Broodmother gave a final croaking sound before the body shuddered violently, sagging to the ground moments later. We all exchanged looks when the monstrosity was beaten, thanking the Maker for allowing us all to live past it. Hespith reappeared after the beast was slain; she recited more words, her heart shattered at what Branka had done to her house. She ran off; we tried to catch up to her, but it was too late. She had jumped off the cliff, leaving nothing of her but a broken body below. It was sad, but we had to move on. We owed it to House Branka and Hespith to get to Branka and decide what to do about her. We looked to the future, marching forwards. The Deep Roads would be their grave, just like the Wardens who fulfill their calling here.
Okay, let me just say what is on everyone's minds, and what everybody knows by this point in the journal: Branka is totally, completely insane. When we first met her and accused her of betraying her house and letting them all die, she justified her actions by saying that knowledge of the golems was far more important. She went on and on about how letting her followers die a gruesome death was necessary, and that she did not give a hoot who was king. Reyn was trying her hardest not to kill Branka; her hands were tight on her sword, eyes filled with a fire that rivaled those in a forge. But she kept her sense and implored Branka to show some sign of her favor towards Harrowmont. Branka agreed to it, if we helped her get the anvil. Reyn reluctantly agreed, though her eyes were cunning and swift. I knew she would kill her in a heartbeat if betrayal was on her mind. Once the acceptance was out in the open, Branka sent us through this test designed by Caridin to keep people out. And was it a doozy. We had to face (more) angry dwarf spirits, (more) gigantic golems, and just (more) of everything I did not particularly want to face. But, the Maker seems to enjoy pitting us against things that wish to kill us. Hilarious, truly a comedian. We passed the test, and made it to the famed Anvil of the Void. But, as we were making our way to it, another golem arose, though this one was far bigger than our previous foes. It made Shale look like a baby rock! The big guy surprised us by saying he was Caridin; yes, the very dwarf who had created the anvil. The once-famed paragon had created the anvil to much success long ago, but after seeing the pain that had to be undergone to make one and how few people actually volunteered…it changed his tune. But the king at that time did not share Caridin's reformed heart. Instead, he forced Caridin to become one of his own creations. Caridin managed to hide the anvil in this place, fending off any who tried to use it for nefarious purposes. Nobody had gotten that far in the last centuries since then. He also gave Shale insight into her past, which shocked us all. About this time, Mrs. Crazy Dwarf walks up, proclaiming that the anvil must be preserved and used to strengthen Orzammar.
Oghren tried to talk sense into her, but she dismissed him as if he were no more than an annoying peasant. Of course we sided with Caridin. Branka was not pleased; she was even less so when she ended up with a sword lodged in her abdominals. She was not silenced right away; a small skirmish following her angry outburst had ensued, calling forth golems to smash us all into bits. It was a little tough going, but we managed to push them back and kill them all. Reyn talked Caridin into giving a symbol of his vote, granting us the choice of who to give it to. A crown was fashioned, and Reyn stepped up to fulfill her promise. As leader, she was the one chosen for the job. She hefted the magical hammer up high and brought it down hard, destroying the anvil forever more. Caridin breathed in relief; after thanking us for our efforts, he jumped into the lava below, getting the sweet release he had craved of for so long. As for us, we made our way back to Orzammar, ready to put our king on the throne.
Well, upon making it back to the dwarven city and entering the Chamber of Assembly, we showed all the dwarves inside the crown. We announced that we sided with Harrowmont, and that he had gained the favor of the ancestors. Without further ado, Harrowmont was officially declared king. But, Prince Bhelen did not take that sitting down whilst humming a tune to himself. He and some of his men attacked us, intent on killing us all. However, he had underestimated our abilities. As his body fell to the floor in defeat, victory was shouted. We had one it; we had united Orzammar, put the rightful king on the throne, and procured the last allies needed before the landsmeet. We soon left Harrowmont, with the promise of meeting for the upcoming battle soon. Bye bye, dwarves! We are in Redcliffe now, staying at the castle in soft, fluffy beds. Ah, how I have missed you! Eamon has called forth the Landsmeet, and we will depart for Denerim on the morrow. A lot still needs to be done before the final battle commences. Loghain's treachery must come to fruition, so that Ferelden may come together to meet the Blight head-on; otherwise, we will surely fall. Here's hoping to the big man finally getting justice served to him on a big old silver tray. I will write more after the Landsmeet, my friends. Hopefully I will have good news to share.
Farewell,
Zevran, the pooped-out assassin-elf
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