Author's Notes: Well, here it be at long last. I took a break for a week to get back to the old schedule.Y'all have fun now (I wonder if this site even works anymore. Ah well.)
Chapter 47: Acquaintance in Pieces
"-. .-"
The vast underground passage echoed with the rugged voice of a certain dwarven warrior. "You did what?"
"You heard me," Gwen answered with a grin aimed straight ahead. "When I left the assembly, I 'kindly' asked the deshyrs to do their best not to murder each other over petty squabbles until we return."
Oghren didn't even try to restrain his laughter. "Ye're mad, Warden. But you know what? I like you."
Oghren Kondrat hadn't expected these people to be quite like this, not after what his life had been like over the past couple of years. After suffering through ridicule on the part of pretty much every other warrior and noble that happened to drop by Tapsters' tavern, or anywhere else, he'd already reached the point where it came across as odd for anyone to behave differently around him. Not that the usual didn't bother him, because it did. Sure, the ale helped drown out the voices and all, but it still always gnawed at him.
It shouldn't have been like that. He was the only one in the city that really cared about Branka, the sodding Paragon, and they condemned him for it. What else could he do but go to the diamond quarter and shout himself hoarse until he had to go back to the tavern and drink the soreness in his throat away? Sodding nuglickers, all of 'em. All the nobles were alike, and the warriors weren't much better. The only fighter with a head on his shoulders he really ever knew was Gorim, and he was dead. And even he's been a bit too much of a bootlicker, to the point where he'd thrown him (Oghren) out of the palace half a dozen times for making fun of the king (hey, he should have lightened up some!).
Now, with cub warriors like that whiny Loilinar Ivo, who could ever even like the nobles?
But he was thinking randomly again. Ale did that, made him lose his train of thought, that was the beauty of it. So where was he? Ah right, the Wardens and how the few people that still kept an ear out for him didn't have to let him know if they were doing anything.
He'd expected to have to make a case with them, even had a few lines prepared in case they insulted him, like everyone else did. Instead, it was they (the human woman and that elf with long, black hair, he or she... bah, it had been after several flagons, who cares about the gender?) that came to him. He was in Tapsters, at his spot in the corner, near the privy, when they were suddenly next to his table and told him they were leaving the next day, so he should get his equipment ready and whatever supplies he felt he needed.
Oghren had been so honestly shocked at that event that he just nodded dumbly and blinked in acknowledgement. He completely missed them telling him when and where he should show up and meet with them (it was after dousing several tankards of lichen ale in ten minutes, you understand). So, early the next day, he put on his best armor, a suit of silverite heavy plate mail, not really massive, but the next step down. He also brought along a nice battleaxe, also of silverite.
Well, he had, at one point, been a very honored warrior and he was also, technically, a noble, so of course he had his share of wealth left, how else could he afford to buy so much ale? Ah right, ale. He did not forget to bring along a big enough pack full of flacons of it... and a keg. It's only fair that a fighter should have a way to get some peace of mind, especially on long trips like these, right?
Right, his brain was roaming again. The dwarf, thus, decided to take another swig of ale even as he kept walking more or less in line with the others (he always had a flacon at his side, one for the ditch). Where was he? Oh right, meeting with them.
So, since he'd been so stumped by having been (politely even) called upon, thus missing the when and where, he ended up waiting for them to show up for two hours that morning, near the Deep Roads entrance. Some of the guards and miners did throw him odd looks, what with him carrying his weapon on his back and all, but they didn't say anything. Not that he did his best to pay attention, what with doing his best to ignore them actually.
He'd actually missed this, marching to battle, after months, even years of being forbidden to carry weapons, because of that proving against Randar Vollney. Well, it was to first blood and he really had stopped after he drew first blood. No one specifically said it wasn't allowed to be a lethal hit. Eh, stone smack them all. He wasn't about to give up on Branka just because they refused to do anything.
Yes, the march was a nice feeling, and he had to admit that the atmosphere wasn't that bad either, now that they were marching down that ancient underground road, vast and tall even after such a long time. It really was magnificent, with large, perfectly aligned, dark granite slabs, almost completely unworn even now, a testament to just how durable dwarven construction was and always had been.
The road was about thirty meters wide (when it was narrowest) and the top was almost impossible to see. Braziers, on top of tall, stone pillars, were on both sides, at intervals of a hundred meters, enchanted to magically create fire whenever movement was detected. Many of them had been broken down, either by time or darkspawn, but they were still close to Orzammar, so things weren't looking too gloomy yet.
Paragon statues and signposts with quotes from the Memories flanked the pathway. There were also lava flows, coursing down from above, once every five hundred meters or so, so as to grant that roadway heat and extra light. Oghren also remembered that the old empire had many sections where a lava river of sorts flowed alongside the road itself, for similar purposes, though the dwarves had made sure to build a tall and thick enough wall on that side, to prevent any accidents.
That Duran guy, still with his head totally covered in that full helmet, and wearing an even more massive silverite plate armor than him (largely similar in shape to what Oghren remembered the Legion wearing, only of a silvery hue, obviously), along with a shield and several weapons (two swords, a shield and two daggers) had taken point, along with his black dog and that duster-wearing (duster as in coat, not brand) elf mage.
The tattooed elf archer (and his wolf) and that qunari giant were right behind them, both looking surprisingly similar (height, build and hair aside), with their aloof attitudes, not that Oghren could see them very well, since he was farther in the back. Of course, he'd seen enough of them earlier, before they left, to know they probably hadn't changed their flat stares much.
The big golem with a dry sense of humor walked alongside them as well, occasionally making those crystals blow out flames for no reason. Oghren made a mental note to remember to talk to it sometime. Of course, the ale might make him forget to remember, but eh, it happens.
Third line was made up of Oghren himself and the four humans, those being Gwen, that Alistair guy, Wynne (who'd actually managed to guess the ingredients in his ale, down to the cloves, upon tasting it, Stone bless her) and Leliana, who carried a sort of oversized purse from where that nug of hers, Schmooples (what kind of woman names a walking piece of roast Schmooples?), peeked out, looking really weird with just the head popping out now and then. The dwarven fighter still felt it was a waste not to eat the thing, but what can you do? Odd that even the Warden leader woman's own brown dog didn't try to much on the critter, being right there alongside them and all.
As for the brand kid, his elven sweetheart and that Antivan assassin (who was making a point of acquiescing to Kallian's request for adventure stories in as brash and loud a manner as possible, no doubt in order to annoy Faren, and it was working from the dejected look on his face) were right at the back. The redhead dwarf was even holding onto the reins of their bronto. It was a really big and strong animal, bigger than most brontos Oghren was used to, and it was carrying a lot of stuff while also pulling a two-wheel cart with all sorts of supplies.
Even a weird, furry, black animal, a cat they'd called it, sat right at the top, apparently sleeping, though the weird ears twitched now and then, not that the fighter was paying attention or bothering to look back and check.
They'd been going like this for a couple of hours, at a pace that Oghren found he actually had to put effort into matching (just a little effort though, which was exactly how he wished it would be). He'd also spent a while examining the equipment and he really couldn't find any faults. He hadn't taken a look at most of their weapons, since they were all sheathed and equipped or packed tight in the cart, but the armors were fine and strong, and, for some of them, quite unique even, like they'd been specially-tailored. The city elf was the prime example, as was the elven mage.
The final, major thing Oghren noticed was how they all seemed to have various relationships. Some liked each other, others had friendly rivalries or even outright despised each other, but the way they carried themselves as a group spoke volumes. Regardless of their differences, these were people that would instantly fight cohesively if met with hostile conditions. It was like they'd been through a lot of bronto shit together.
Come to think of it, that was probably true.
Oghren felt a headache coming in, no doubt aided by the noise of their march, especially metal boots striking stone in less of a rhythmic fashion than soldiers could boast about. Of course, even just thinking too much tended to do that, especially when he was drinking, so he drank some more. As always, it worked and the sodding lousy feeling went away.
The next half hour he spent by keeping his mouth shut and listening to whatever antics everyone was busy with. Gwen and that shy human guy started playing the lovey nuggies, pardon, to ogle each other. Oghren didn't really try to distract himself from the awkward train of thought that first phrase had the habit of leading him into. He found it even easier than expected to fantasize because the talk between Shale and Sten somehow took a turn for the awkward too. What kind of golem complements a big ass qunari giant for how the light falls upon his muscles when he flexes them anyway?
At least that hunter elf had the sense to feel a bit uncomfortable and start rubbing his forehead, though it didn't last long. Of course, being that he was behind those three, the dwarven fighter couldn't really tell for sure what was going on in the elf's head.
It wasn't until they all reached a fork in the Deep Roads and they began to turn left instead of right that Oghren finally had a reason to speak up. "Hey," he frowned up at Gwen. Damn these humans and their long legs, making him stretch his neck like that. "Why are we going left? Shouldn't we be going the other way?" He'd been allowed to see the maps given to the Wardens by both Harrowmont and Bhelen, to confront with the ancient ones that Branka dug up, so he was pretty sure Caridin's Cross was the other way.
"We're taking a detour," the apparent commander said simply. "We're stopping by the Aeducan Thaig first."
"What business could surfacers have there?" he pressed curiously.
Oghren wasn't the most observant of people, he could give them that, but the way Gwen and Alistair exchanged glances wasn't exactly subtle. "Lord Anwer Dace should be there on an expedition but he's late in reporting in as far as I understand. We have some business with him," she said.
The dwarf just grunted in acknowledgement and kept walking. If they didn't feel like telling him the real reason, whatever. The fact they were going to look for Branka at all was already more than he could have asked for, and what those deep lords would have bothered to do.
It only took one more hour for them to near the Thaig. The Aeducan Thaig was closest to Orzammar and the last to fall to the darkspawn. Thus, it was the one in the best shape and least corrupted. The section of the Deep Roads that led to it had collapsed over the years, but there was a tunnel that circumvented the obstacle. It was probably as old as the thaig itself, since there was an actual door, carved into the stone, that allowed passage out into the thaig from it, at least that what memory served to tell.
"Bwah!" Oghren cried out in fright when the cat jumped off the bronto right next to him, just before it became a dark mist and turned into a woman. "By the tits of my ancestors! Where'd you come from, woman!" Then it struck him that this was the first time he saw her. "Who the sod're you?"
"I've always been here, dwarf," Morrigan said with an annoyed scoff, folding her arms in front of her. Her robes were just as revealing as always, though her dark red hood was drawn over her head at the moment. "I am Morrigan... Did you not even bother to ask who you were traveling with? I am amazed you got to live this long if your wits leave so much to be desired."
"Feisty one, ain't ya," he replied with a leer. "Fits with yer clothing. Bet your special skill is causing enemies to die of nosebleeds just by lookin' at ya."
"Do not stare at me so, dwarf," the witch demanded uncomfortably before walking off.
"Surfacers. All of'em mad cause of that sun in their heads," the fighter muttered, not noticing the amused looks some of the others were shooting him, since he didn't have the habit of looking up.
They left Theron, his wolf, Zevran and Shale behind to stay with the supplies while the others went ahead, since the Bronto and the cart couldn't really fit through the tunnel, not without being a liability anyway.
Well, there were several tunnels really. One had to pass through a reasonably spacious passage (such were they all down there, large, though it was too littered with rubble for carts to advance) and reach what must have been a market square or plaza at some point in the distant past. That area opened in several tunnels, most of them dead ends, except for two, which Oghren knew had been opened during that ill-fated expedition of King Endrin's favorite kid. The first tunnel was fairly dark, but not quite. Some phosphorescent lichen had grown, probably recently, and there were what looked like burrows and tunnels up in the top of the cavern, with sparse remnants of spider webbing formations, as if spiders had lived there at one point or another.
Duran kept walking in front, steadily and surely, looking like he knew exactly where he was going all the while, though he did seem to glance around and up from time to time, probably more than he would have liked since that full helmet must have been murdering his peripheral vision. It was his own fault for keeping it on, Oghren thought. The elf kept himself at his side, illuminating the passage with light from his staff. That staff looked like a long rod of red steel and had a blue crystal, shaped like very long, pointed pyramid, or rhomb, at the top. It was fastened to the shaft by what looked like the imitation of a drake's claw, made of obsidian, just like the half-foot long, lower end of the weapon.
"Darkspawn," Alistair muttered from where he walked, on the right, on the other side of Gwen. "We'll run into them in about five minutes if we keep with this route. They haven't sensed us yet, I think."
"Was wondering when you'd notice them," Kallian said from behind them. "They've been itching at my brain for the past half hour. Fortunately, they're few enough so we shouldn't have any trouble taking care of them." She pointed at some of the stalagmites they were passing by. "I'm surprised these things, whatever they are, haven't jumped us yet."
Oghren realized some of the stalagmites were camouflaged deep stalkers and resolved to pay more attention to his surroundings. Of course, those things weren't stupid enough to attack large groups like theirs, not unless they were a large pack themselves. although the murmurs in the walls and holes kind of suggested they were communicating and gathering. Maybe.
"Deep stalkers," Faren explained to whoever was close enough to listen, not counting Oghren himself (meaning Gwen, Alistair, Leliana, Wynne and Kallian herself). "They won't attack unless they're a lot more numerous than us. Still, wretched little buggers."
Suddenly, they all stopped. Oghren noticed Duran make a few hand signs. Next moment, Alim and Morrigan turned into giant spiders (the dwarven fighter almost gaped) and crawled up the tunnel before moving on to fading into the shadows above, where the light of the lichen didn't reach. Things were a bit darker now, what with the elf's staff light gone, but Gwen still had a yellow glowstone, though she gave it to Sten, since his height allowed the light to cast farther (the glowstone was on the tip of a steel shaft of about two meters in length, almost a staff in itself, and was quite high up now that the giant had it resting on his shoulder).
After five minutes of waiting, that Duran guy drew one of his swords and readied his silverite targe. The blade was a dwarven-looking longsword made of dragonbone, the pale white type (which was actually kind of rare), and had runes alongside the entire length of the blade, shining a sort of sapphire light. "The darkspawn should be ready for us by now," he said before they resumed their advance.
Ten minutes later, everyone was wiping the dark blood and ichor off their swords and armors, except for Wynne, who'd stayed back, and Leliana, who had managed to stay apart and just shoot things down with her bow. Oghren was a bit put off though, simply because that hadn't been exciting at all. Almost two dozen darkspawn and they'd all been entangled by spider webbing or Wynne's paralysis spell. Only four had managed to put up a fight, and those ones had fallen to Gwen and Alistair.
"You mind leaving some for me next time?" the grumpy dwarf complained as he holstered his axe. "You're taking all the fun out of it. It's better when they squirm." He actually regretted the fact that he bothered to put on his helmet.
"You'll get enough excitement," Duran spoke casually from where he'd taken point yet again, which was odd. Wasn't that woman supposed to be in charge? She had the fancy armor and everything, though she'd not been wearing her cape since they left the city. Which was sensible.
Frowning, he decided not to say anything for now, especially since no one seemed to mind being led wherever Duran was going.
Eventually, they passed through another tunnel, longer this time, and they had to fight off some spiders, but nothing they couldn't handle. Eventually, they reached the Thaig proper and saw that it was really large. Oghren hadn't actually been here before, since King Endrin had forbidden it after that whole kinslaying mess. Plus, the fighter had been more busy roaming the deep roads alone or with some others, before they grew tired of him, looking for Branka's trail (and failing).
The thaig wasn't actually in disrepair at all, understandable considering that it had only recently been overrun. There also seemed to be a strange absence of darkspawn, furthering the belief that a Blight was amassing, since that was the only time when the Deep Roads emptied, more or less. There was also none of that gooey, fleshy darkspawn corruption overgrowth here, meaning that this settlement, at least, actually might be reasonably easy to salvage.
The city (it was a city once) had a more or less linear shape, with most buildings on one side and the street on the other, at least as far as the part up to the underground lake went. There was also one of those stone bridges over it, though it was barely visible in the distance. There also seemed to be no shortage of light, as there were runes in the walls and high up, even on the large pillars, huge even, that seemed to support the ceiling. Lyrium was etched into the Stone itself and cast its teal light everywhere, in cascades, as if there were semi-natural candelabrums here and there, making the lichen on the walls obsolete but still interesting to look at.
This was a view that had to be remembered fondly, so Oghren did the sensible thing and gave a long whistle before taking a swig of his ale. After all, any fond memory had to involve ale, no exceptions.
"Whoa..." he heard Alistair breathe out as he gazed up and around, awestruck.
"For once, I find myself truly impressed," Morrigan also said, again in her woman form. "Orzammar had too much lava."
Everyone else expressed their awe in various ways, except Duran, who didn't look like there was anything new for him to see here. Instead, he'd stopped somewhere alongside one of the natural walls, not a building, and was passing his hand (he'd taken his gauntlet off) over the Stone. "Oghren, come over here for a second."
Curious, he did so, the rustle and thumps of metal as he stepped apparently incapable of breaking the revelry of the others. Of course, Oghren could see some beginnings of the darkspawn taint here and here, but there wasn't more than blackish streaks on the rock anywhere. "Aye? What?"
"How's your Stone Sense?"
There was a pause.
"Huh?"
"You know, your dwarven ability to sense lyrium and detect tremors in the earth, maybe even guess at the dangers ahead just by reaching out with your instinct."
"I know what the Stone Sense is, darn it!" He hadn't been born yesterday. Seriously, what was with that guy. "And it's fine. I could never mistake that tingle if I were to get it."
"Alright then, put your palm here and tell me what you feel."
Stifling a groan, the man did as requested and took his own gauntlet off before touching the rock. Come to think of it, he hadn't done this too many times before, but dwarves somehow knew what to look out for when doing this. He didn't even realize when he'd tuned out the outside world, after closing his eyes, but he suddenly drew back and shuddered, snapping his eyes open and feeling that his heart rate had spiked for some freaking reason. "Stone spittle! What was that?"
That seemed to draw the others' attention, since they all but ran to where they were standing.
"So it's not just me," Duran said pensively, though he was still unnerving with his face covered and all.
"Felt like something was crawling beneath my skin and across my brain," Oghren explained, warranting curious looks on the part of the others. "I never felt anything like that before. It was... unnatural." Can we leave and look for Branka now?
"Is something amiss?" Wynne asked.
"Can you not tell? 'Tis obvious enough something is unwell," Morrigan pointed out crisply.
"I don't really sense any more darkspawn in the vicinity, or farther off really," the city elf decided to say, with that look in her eyes that meant she as reaching out with her senses.
"It's something else," the heavily-armored dwarven warden said. "A foulness, different from darkspawn... We should go further in."
It wasn't until five minutes later that they got a reason to speed up, because they heard the noises deep stalkers made when they went after their prey, though there seemed to be a lot of frustration in their cries, not just hunger and anger. And none of it was directed at them.
Breaking into a run, which wasn't as hard as some may expect with all that armor on (although it did prevent too large leaps from being made) they turned a corner, weapons drawn, to see an immense swarm of them. Oghren was a bit surprised at seeing that they were trying to eat an claw their way through a thaig door and wall, to enter a building that had probably been a residence at some point. The screeching noises expressed annoyance as only a small number of those things seemed to manage to crawl through some holes they'd manage to make along the door's joints and the corners of the walls, plus in the ground.
"How the sod did those things eat through that?" he heard Gwen asking as she unsheathed her greatsword.
"Something tells me that lord ye're lookin for is in there!" Oghren answered, jumping off a boulder and slashing down, killing one of those things and sweeping his weapon around to knock a few others around. "Probably been there for days if those things got impatient enough to actually eat through the stone."
There were probably forty of those things, like a mix between rockworms and lizards, knee-high even to dwarves. And that number was not counting whichever monsters managed to actually get in to try their luck at whoever was still alive inside.
Oghren Kondrat finally got his excitement and he was delighted to see how pathetic those things got when they actually tried to bite onto his armor. Too bad they were fast on their feet because he would have loved to catch at least one under his boot. Apparently, that elf, or Wynne, probably guessed his thoughts, because he felt a rush of magic run past him and everyone else, slowing those things down as though time was moving at a crawl for just them.
Unfortunately, the rest got the idea quickly and the buggers realized the new threat and swarmed in, making their lives rather difficult. By the end of it all, he was winded after having gone into a berserker rage and had, apparently, injured Gwen by accident, something that Alistair was throwing him angry looks for. Meh, it was just a roughed up hip, nothing to be concerned about. The dragonbone plate had absorbed most of the hit. It was her own fault for being so close to a Battlerager. Plus, Wynne made short work of their injuries anyhow.
Either way, the field looked good, all covered in monster bits and pieces, and innards, let's not forget that. Come to think of it, he had some on his armor, so he swatted them aside with a swipe of the back of his hand, something that left Kallian and Leliana a bit bemused. "What?' he asked, flatly.
The answer came in the form of... something blasting the back of his head hard enough to send him staggering forward. "Hey! What was that!" Was it magic? Some sort of forcefield? Turning around, he saw just Duran about five paces away from him.
"You berserkers are supposed to be able to reign in your anger for maximum effect and least friendly fire," he said in a sort of no-nonsense tone that irked the fighter quite a bit. "Control yourself better next time, or at least give a forewarning. I'd like to only worry about enemies and monsters, if you'd be so kind."
"Hmph. If you know all that, you should have enough sense to keep your distance then-" he stopped speaking when he saw his flacon of ale jumping from his belt into the air and well out of his reach. And then it just... floated there. "What the nughumpers!"
Alim spoke from behind him. "If you can't rein it in, we'll assume it's because you're not sober enough and remove the problem. I always wanted to see if dwarven ale can explode."
"Alright fine! Sod, you Wardens are all a bunch of-" The look Alim gave him made him abruptly stop talking since it promised absolute ale eradiation and the rest of his supply was back with the cart... and might just end up destroyed later. So he cast a disbelieving look in Gwen's direction, who had, by now, fully recovered, though Wynne was looking slightly tired. "Aren't you supposed to be the leader?"
The woman showed a raised eyebrow and adjusted the Helm of Honnleath on her head. "We Wardens are battle brothers. Get used to being pestered like that if you can't help yourself."
The berserker settled for a grunt and shrugged, though he was careful in grabbing the flacon out of the air when it was levitated back within his reach. "Ale haters!"
"Perhaps we should check the building and get this over with." Sten suggested flatly, putting Asala in her baldric.
Faren was already on it and walked over to the metal door. "Anyone still alive in there?" He pumped the low side of his fist against the door several times, since it was barred somehow from inside. "Hey! Anyone in there?"
At last someone was heard answering something from within, a man by the sound if the voice. Soon enough, everyone had gathered closer and could hear things being pulled out from behind the door. Eventually, the door itself opened inwards and a dwarf stepped forward, blinking the discomfort in his eyes away, since he'd stepped into a brighter area than before. He looked in his late middle years, with a beard and moustache similar to what Endrin's firstborn (as Oghren remembered anyway) had when he was alive. Some grey hairs were mixed with the light brown. He had one braid, like Faren's, more or less, a the back of his head.
He also had a massive dwarven coat of plates like the one Piotin wore in the provings (and some guards) and looked exhausted. Sweat was in beads on his brow. He wiped them away with the back of his bracer and waited for his breathing to calm down. "You pulled us from a tight spot, friend. You have my gratitude." Meanwhile, a pair of human mercenaries also crawled out of there, one with his head bandaged.
"Lord Anwer Dace I presume?" the apparent lady commander guessed, stepping in front.
"Yes, I am the Patriarch of House Dace. How did you know?" He looked honestly surprised. "Did my daughter requisition your assistance when she saw I was delayed without known cause? Though I have no idea why she would not sent our own warriors or how you came to even be in Orzammar in these troubled times..."
"Before that," Duran broke in. "Are these all the help you have left? Is there anyone still alive in there?"
"There's Mike," one of the human mercenaries spoke up. "And Krista. The deep stalkers that managed to get in got them pretty bad. You're saying you have healing supplies?"
"Wynne, see what you can do," Gwen ordered, and the mage complied quickly, shuffling her red robes after her amazingly easily, not tripping even once as she was led in, accompanied by Faren (at Duran's subtle nod).
"Now, to answer your question," Gwen resumed the previous discussion. "We learned of your expedition here several days ago, but we came here for a different reason. Grey Warden matters, you understand, though Lord Harrowmont did tell us to look for you if we could, since he was wondering why you or your men hadn't reported in when you were supposed to."
"Then I owe Harrowmont more than I thought. I am grateful you arrived when you did, Wardens. We thought we might be able to hold out until the stalkers got bored of waiting at a dead end, but they somehow got desperate enough to dig through the ground and more weathered parts of the building."
"Just why are they so many anyway?" one of the humans asked, sounding shaken up. "We lost fifteen good lads in the ambush and we didn't even manage to kill a third of them before they forced us to barricade in there. And where are the bodies? Did they eat them all?"
"I told ya," the other one said. "It's because of that scream. I heard some miners saying that a Legionnaire told them how a loud, infernal scream a while ago scared them beasts away from the deeper parts of the Roads, so they ran here. That's why they're so many."
"Pansies," Oghren found himself muttering, though no one heard him well from where he was standing, behind and to the side of the others. "You should've brought more men, preferably dwarves instead of mercenaries." Why did he have mercenaries with him actually?Wait, the Daces had many friends and connections topside. Maybe they left their real warriors to defend their household, what with the chaos in Orzammar.
"You're welcome," Alistair said to cover his grumbling.
"We might actually have something more to show you," Duran spoke again. "But you'll have to agree to accompany us back to where the rest of our kith are waiting, along with our supply wagon."
"Considering our predicament, I'd welcome the company and extra steel," the nobleman said sincerely. "With the few of us left, and the state we're in, I doubt it'd be a good idea to brave the way back on our own, much as I hate to admit it."
"Well, you're not as few as you think," Faren's voice was heard as he stepped out of the dark building, followed by a very exhausted-looking Wynne and the man and woman mentioned before, now out of any danger of daying.
"Oh, thank the Maker!" the less battered mercenary gave out.
"Wait, you still have that task you need to take care of, don't you?" the human woman asked of the fully-armored dwarf Warden.
"Indeed," Duran confirmed. "Faren, Kallian and Alim are with me. The rest of you, escort his lordship back to the rendezvous point outside the Thaig and wait for us there." He paused. "Actually, set up camp and prepare some food." He then faced the lord directly. "I imagine you're also hungry and thirsty after this ordeal. You and your men can partake from our supplies as much as you wish, since we'll be stopping by Orzammar after this anyway, so we'll restock well enough. We may not have the best nug delicacies you are probably used to, but I imagine venison and hare will do, yes?"
"I am humbled by your generosity," Anwer said cordially. Huh, he's not as stuck up as other lords, Oghren thought. "I assure you I will not forget those to whom I owe such favor."
"Nonsense," Alistair intervened with a wave of his hand. "We'd do it for anyone after all."
"You can barter who owes what to whom on the way there," Kallian said with a wink, following after the other three who had already gone on their way.
"And do try not to accidentally injure each other, will you?"
Ah yes, Duran jabbing at him again. Oghren really was wishing he could take a look at his face and see if it was really as ugly as he imagined it to be. Then at least he'd have even less of a reason to feel sorry if he 'accidentally' punched him.
Ugh, bad thoughts to think of those that were helping him find Branka. He decided to chase his annoyance away by gulping down some more ale.
"I shall go on ahead and inform Theron that his masterful cooking will be needed once again," Morrigan uttered and, before anyone could question her intent, she morphed into a... swarm of strange, unnervingly numerous and noisy insects that promptly whisked away faster than anyone could possibly hope to follow.
Oghren looked at Anwer and saw that he was just as flabbergasted as he himself was.
"-. .-"
"You do realize what this means, don't you?" Duran uttered once they were out of earshot of the others.
"I doubt we do," Kallian responded, looking around and examining what looked like a ballista that might still be serviceable. She'd managed to get over the initial feeling of awe that the majesty of those underground roads and complexes instilled upon people, so she could actually pay more attention to other things now.
"The scream that scared the beasts into swarming away from the Dead Trenches and towards Orzammar, it was me pissing Urthemiel off. Ergo, Anwer almost dying was... probably my indirect fault." The tone he used was surprisingly impassive compared to the implication of that statement, though it might have been easier for his mood to be ascertained if he'd at least taken his helmet off.
Kallian didn't have time to reply to that before Alim did. "You sound like you know him personally."
"I do," the dwarf confirmed. "He's the leader of one of Orzammar's top houses, so of course I, the most awesome of all princes, met him, especially since he's a lot less of an ass than Ronus or his daughter is. Those two are self-serving pricks, though lady Dace at least extends that self-serving tendencies to house Dace as a whole. Either way, Anwer is one of the few house leaders with a real sense of fairness."
"Ah." Alim uttered.
Duran smirked from behind his helmet. "Weak people, including spoiled brats like Bhelen, fool themselves into believing that being strong in Orzammar is the same as being a lying cheat and backstabber, but that point kind of crumbles when you realize that House Harrowmont, House Dace and House Helmi, the ones at the very top, all hold true honor in high regard. I might even say that Anwer doesn't really have any choice besides focusing on his own house's wellbeing first and foremost. Why and how could he worry about the others when they'd have no qualms betraying him for their own ends?"
"The more you tell me about Orzammar, the more I believe it is screwed up badly," the city elf said with a sigh.
"Not as badly as some think. This is also why Bhelen can't stand Harrowmont and goes about his propaganda that he's weak and bla bla." His frown could practically be felt. "Dear little brother crawled and squirmed for so many months to try and offset the favor I had in the Assembly without even trying... and then, when things fell apart and father died, up comes Harrowmont and matches him, no, erodes his support in like what, a day? Two? And he took away the alliance of the two top houses just like that, without any illegal means. Even Trian knew that Aeducan had to retain Helmi's support, and was going to have a political marriage for that very purpose."
"Wow..." Faren said flatly. "Your so-called younger brother isn't very good at this, is he?"
Duran sighed. "It pisses him off that these signs point to Harrowmont being stronger than him, though he and his fanatics will never really admit that, even though only small and weak houses support him, the cheating ones as it were, and his second belongs to one at the very bottom, and is a prick to boot. It's so obvious Rolik is there just for Bhelen to entertain the idea he's so much stronger than everyone else. Hmph. I almost feel sorry for him really. Almost."
"I imagine a lot of people might feel sorry for him after you're done with him," Faren guessed, looking a bit annoyed, at least Kallian thought so.
"Fewer than you'd think. And only provided I survive this whole Deep Roads trip of course," said the disguised one, demanding outraged looks transmitting Don't even joke about that! "Ah, there it is!" He quickened his pace as a sort of palace came into view. "This should be the central manor."
The door slid open with less resistance than they'd feared and allowed access to a fairly tall and wide hallway. The corridor was flanked by statues and bas-reliefs of Paragons. there were also braziers, suspended off the ceiling by chains. They all lit with fire when the four entered, the enchantment woven into them by the Shapers and smiths still strong even after all this time.
There was also much less dust than anyone would have thought to find there, so they walked forward, boldly, though still keeping an eye and ear out for anything unexpected. Eventually, they entered the central chamber, which was very large. There was a sort of cube, as big as an adult dwarf, with pure lyrium spikes protruding out of it, suspended high up, hanging from the middle of the vaulted ceiling hat, in turn, was supported by four pillars, thick and with bases carved in the shape of ancient kings. Flakes of iridescence constantly floated down, along with what looked a lot like gossamer strands. That teal light bathed the interior fully and...
"Okay, that there is just too awesome for words," Faren spoke everyone's mind.
"I would have expected something different from the resting place of a relic," Alim said. "Something more... gloomy maybe, like a mausoleum. I blame the Circle adventure books."
"I was told the Shield is beneath the central thaig chamber," Duran explained, finally taking his helmet off and letting his white hair and beard out, to shimmer under the shine of the lyrium above. "This is it. It's not like the chamber was going to inexplicably be a run-down crypt with some loose slabs on the floor that you three would have to stand on before I could use the signet ring to access whatever alcove it's hidden in. It would make no sense, plus there'd have to be a universal law dictating that I could only have no more than three aides along at all times."
"What are you going on about? We didn't say anything to push you into that rant..." Alim noted with a single arched eyebrow.
"So, how do we get the Shield?" Kallian asked.
"Faren, Kallian, you're the perceptive ones here. Look for switches, levers and whatever else, maybe hidden as parts of ornaments or suits of armor." Duran walked over to the middle, where there was a giant-sized statue of Aeducan himself. Kallian wondered why all those sculptures weren't any more lifelike, but she figured Dwarves must have had their reasons.
Alim murmured something with his eyes closed, and then, when they opened, they were glowing blue. He was using that spell that could see the auras given off by enchantments and odd spells then. Maybe it would help. Meanwhile, she and the castless rogue began to look around.
Then, Duran pressed his signet ring against the indentation at the base of Aeducan's statue, and some grinding was heard and clashing into place in several directions. "Hmm, the architects played around. We'll have to kickstart some mechanisms, but I think I can guess what sort of contraption was employed for this. If I'm right, there are three switches to press on the walls, one ahead and two on the one on the right, to confuse people that would assume each wall has one. There should also be two slabs on the floor that are now loose."
There was a pause.
And then, the dwarf peered around to watch those three staring at him. "What? You do realize I was a bookworm for the better part of my life, and I used to make traps and such for my pranks, so of course I'd know what sorts of tricks architects use. After all, I was royalty, so I wasn't forbidden from anything in the Shaperate, books on architectural secrets included, unlike common folk and even most nobles."
It took a while, but the switches were found exactly around the areas where he'd guessed they would be. Once pressed (fortunately, only the stone slabs had to stay constantly down), the exile pressed the ring against the indentation again, at which point the large, eight-pointed star slab in the very middle, the one that looked ever so inviting and practically screamed "anything of importance in this room is here"... did nothing.
Instead, the very small floor tile behind Aeducan's statue was heard grinding aside.
Kallian saw the prince disappear behind that statue and not come back, so she nodded to the others and they all walked over there. They found him sitting on the ground, with his back turned to them, using one hand to keep that round targe, apparently made of silverite, upright in front of him. It was a worn thing, scratched by the many strikes it had blocked, and the gleam of the metal's enchantment was almost faded completely. It looked... really dented, and worse than the common round shield on his back. The Aeducan crest was still distinctly visible on it, however.
"Hmmm," the prince murmured. "You were probably expecting something fancier, right?" He didn't try to look around. "This was supposed to be a symbol, something I'd retrieve and bolster the morale of Orzammar's armies." He sounded distant. "Of course, I knew what was going to happen so I gave up on looking for it, as I'd planned all along. I didn't really think father would forbid more journeys here and that this would still be here after all this time."
"It's like it was waiting for you," Alim compared.
"Anyway," 'Duran' placed his helmet back on and stood up. "You have that rope and extra cloak, right?"
"Yep," Faren confirmed and handed them over (he'd had them in that small backpack, like a bundle hanging behind his waist). "Here."
Predictably, the dwarven prince wrapped the Shield in that cloth and tied it up, then mounted it on his back, instead of his other shield, which he fastened to his left arm. It would have to do until they got back to camp. "Alright, there's just one more thing we need to do in the Thaig."
The elves and brand exchanged looks but decided not to ask.
It was only after they exited the ancient manor and Duran stopped stark in the middle of the clearing that they began to wonder just what was up. He brought his right hand to his helmet-covered head, like he was stretching out his senses or something. "Alim, you should be able to use your magic to sense any foul, demonic presence in your vicinity, right? I know demons can mask themselves and pass as normal people, but they have a sort of corruption of their own otherwise right? When they aren't concealing it. Like the one growing around all over the place in the Circle Tower."
Kallian immediately saw the mage tense as his eyes glowed blue anew. "I don't really sense anything close to us."
Without another word, Duran strode off towards a tunnel, past some poorly-built barricades. They ended up entering a run-down tunnel, and it was then that the black magician stopped in his tracks. "I... I think I'm starting to feel something."
The city elf didn't know what to make of that, but she did remember the feeling instilled by those apparitions, back at the Circle, all those months ago, especially that Shah Wyrd thing, that shade, a being of random thought, that they'd fought after finding all the notes left around by the apprentices. It was after that thing's defeat that the found Yusaris, the legendary Dragonslayer sword of the hero Dane (Gwen had been making liberal use of it ever since).
Duran did not even slow down but did suddenly stop near a pile of rubble, ancient-looking rubble, that was apparently covering a pit of some sort. He pushed some of it aside, then somehow overcharged his muscles with magical energy and moved some oversized boulders out of the way. Then, he bent low and heaved.
The scene ended with him falling on his rear in the cave dust, along with a really big... bag of something, about as big as he was. There was also a tablet, made of stone, that he held in his hand and inspected very intently, concentration visible even despite his helmet.
She walked closer. Slowly. "Should I even ask?"
He just held out the plate, so she took and read it. She handed it back. "Sorry, I can't read dwarven."
"Ah, of course," Duran realized. Then, he took a deep breath and provided the translation. "The ritual was very specific, as such things probably should be. Torso, head, and limbs spread amongst the Deep Roads to prevent the creature from returning. Looks like they died during the cutting, but we can fulfill the last part in their stead. I'm not familiar with elven ritual-why would I be-but it seems pretty straight forward." He cleared his throat. "This was written by Shaper Axus. And there's something scratched in the corner: Never even saw the thing. Bet a sword would take care of it. Sod it, and this bag of legs."
All four fell silent, taking in the fact that that bag had the legs of some creature in it. But what creature could it possibly be? And what ritual was this about? Suddenly, Kallian wished Theron was with them, because then he'd probably know how to explain things.
"Do you have any idea what this is about?" Alim asked carefully, eyes narrowed.
The not-commander pushed himself up and released a deep breath. "Possibly."
The tone made it clear he wasn't about to give any sort of explanation yet, and none of them felt like actually looking in the bag to see what limbs they were, so they just headed back to the rendezvous.
"-. .-"
Excerpt from journal of Senior Enchanter Wynne
20 Pluitanis, 9:31, Dragon: Well, it seems we are finally getting close to Ortan Thaig. I can see Oghren practically fidgeting with anticipation, eager to see if he'll be able to pick up more of his wife's trail. He seems a good man at heart, if a bit troubled and too focused on ignoring his distress with the help of ale. He seems to have no problem acting the brash fool, but I think it's just a front meant to hide a brand of grief not usually encountered in many. The sense of failure is hard to take that way I suppose.
Ah, but I should probably summarize just what happened to get us this far.
We managed to escort Lord Anwer Dace back to Orzammar without incident, after he spent some time recuperating at the camp we had set up (Duran asked Theron about elven ritual and the elf just knew of In Uthenera, the one for eternal sleep or some such thing).Anyway, Anwer and his few remaining men were quite grateful for our assistance and sharing our food with them. They even seemed to like the meal especially much, though the dwarf seemed to actually be able to recognize what meal it was. I suppose he's one of the lords with more knowledge of the surface world and its many wonders.
He was also shown the forged promissory notes that Rolik Gavorn had, at one point, intended to try and deceive him with. He promised to always be careful when dealing with that house and stressed his continued support for Lord Harrowmont. He even said he'd get the shaperate to investigate House Gavorn fully.
Once he was safely back in Orzammar, he promised to make sure any merchants on the surface would prove especially generous when dealing with the Grey Wardens. He also invited us to visit his estate with him, but Duran and Gwen gracefully declined, saying we had to be going as soon as possible. Lord Anwer took it well and said the invitation was still open at any time.
Once that was done, we went to restock on food and Duran even visited the apothecary for some reason, even though we already had everything we could possible need from them, including all the poultices and balms they had on hand. After that, we left the same day and even made good distance before we camped.
It took us five days to reach Caridin's Cross, at which point Oghren was finally able to pick up Paragon Branka's trail. He could recognize the markings on the wall, as his wife likes to take chips of them, to test the composition when she entered new tunnels. The road cross was, indeed, massive, and suitably overloaded with darkspawn. Of course, their presence had been detected by Kallian and Duran well before we even reached the place. I must say this sense of theirs is useful indeed, though it must be troubling as well.
After all, having such a wide range, those two probably have trouble sleeping, since they can likely pick up the presence of even those groups wandering tunnels completely cut off from ours. I think Duran has been keeping watch as often as possible for this very reason. I spotted him meditating near where Kallian slept one time. Upon asking him, he said he was blocking her senses so she could finally get some rest.
I refrained from asking him how he could rest at all if his own range was just as far-reaching. I can only hope he, at least, can control it better.
It took some time cleaning up Caridin's Cross. Duran insisted that we explore all tunnels that weren't cut off. This led us to more battles than we probably had to fight, but we eventually found two more of those strange bags of body parts, his apparent goal. I get a bad feeling just from having those things around but our dear exile and Alim assure us it is important. As always, those two are holding their own council. We also found the hilt of what Theron believes was once a very fine, dragonbone dar'misaan, though we know not what became of the other parts or if we'll even find them.
The hounds did not slack off either. Damon found a helmet that imitated the design of griffon wings. It was made of silverite and is thought to have belonged to a Grey Warden that reached this far during his calling at some point in the past. Rinne, Duran's own mabari, also tracked down a cache, belonging to the Crosscut Drifters. As said in the notes in their cache, they'd been following their instincts and digging tunnels against the wishes and directions of the Assembly. They died bringing down a tunnel on top of a horde of darkspan that were digging their way up to the Orzammar highway, stopping a potentially disastrous incursion without anyone ever knowing.
True dwarves they were, heroes, and Duran spent a while erecting a sort of monument, a large boulder with a cloak on top to honor them. he said it was a meager memento, but we couldn't really manage anything better.
On the bright side, the cache had a very well crafted dagger, one of the three Thorns of the Dead Gods. They are daggers made out of the shards of the blade that slew Thoth, the Archdemon of Fire of the Third Blight. Zevran was allowed to claim it, since it should cleave through any armor and is perfect for him (it was also a bit oddly balanced for Faren's style). The cache also had a ring just perfect for Gwen (boosts strength and agility according to Alim's findings) as well as a fine pair of gauntlets, sized for humans. They are safely packed in the cart at the moment and might be part of the same armor set as the helmet I mentioned above, much like those boots we bought from a smuggler, Alimar, in Dust Town.
All in all, the darkspawn weren't really the biggest problem. The real issue came when Alim detected the presence of blood magic in one of the tunnels. On thinking about it, we probably should have left things well enough alone, though Duran (who had also sensed the same thing) and Alim said that if we'd left that vial there, the darkspawn or some beasts may have just shattered it anyway and unleashed the thing upon the world without someone as strong as us to stop it.
But I should be specific. We found a black vial, a sort of phylactery in fact. It shattered on its own when Alim touched it and released a Revenant. Essentially, revenants are corpses possessed by pride or desire demons. It almost beheaded Alistair and injured quite a few of us with its liberal use of unholy magic before we were able to bring it down at last. It even managed to freeze Shale in place, despite the golem's fire crystals, and Sten was busy fighting off some walking skeletons. It did not help that we weren't exactly in our best shape after fighting through monsters and darkspawn for the better part of two hours, including a Deep Stalker Matriarch and her brood.
Alistair managed the finishing blow and I had to use much of my energy to heal Faren and Gwen afterwards. Duran had been somewhat hurt as well, but, as always, I could do nothing to help his condition. Fortunately, he's been getting better at healing himself, and I do believe the Lifegiver, that ring he acquired, truly has a strong enchantment because small cuts and bruises heal in minutes, even unheeded. He also said his father's signet ring bestowed some benefits in terms of fortitude and strength. I suppose it is fitting, knowing the tasks kings have to deal with, and how nobles always need extra constitution if they are to survive poisons.
Oghren muttered something about traveling with us being bad for his health, and I can't say I fault him. Of course, he did not really act grumpy during the times we camped. Though he was always eager to go forward to find his wife, the accommodations we were able to bring along made camping actually pleasant, dangers and darkspawn corruption aside.
I am especially intrigued by these enchantments that the dwarven Shapers specialize in. For one, we have a basin with a dweomer that, when one passes one's hands over it, fills with water on its own. What's more, the water also clears by itself when it gets dirty. I must say even a towel bath is a bliss after the way our days have been turning out.
Another nice thing to have is that disk with a fire rune. It is a sort of portable campfire. Most of us gave Duran odd looks when he produced it, to which he said that weapons weren't the only things that could bear runes of fire. Add to this the special trunks etched with runes of frost, portable freezers as Alim called them (Alim was grateful to no longer have to keep tabs on them and constantly use his magic to keep them cold) and we shouldn't have food-related problems for a long time.
And even with all this, Duran still insisted that, the Wardens at least, make do with deep mushrooms whenever they could, since supplies should always be preserved for as long as possible. While non-Wardens should be wary of possible corruption, they would be fine. I understand those things even restore some energy.
We should reach Ortan Thaig tomorrow. I pray we do not get in over our heads. As I understand it, the corruption has been growing thicker, though blobs and fleshy formations have, thankfully, been scarce so far.
"-. .-"
This was definitely not Oghren Kondrat's day. Upon finally entering the lost grounds of Ortan Thaig, he managed to pick up Branka's Trail, but it felt like fate itself wanted to screw him over in some way or another. First they ran into deep stalkers, then into darkspawn, then more darkspawn until they didn't know if there was going to be any end to them. They'd actually been detected by a really big group at one point, and three sodding ogres attacked them at once.
And then, that dwarf began to use some strange powers, as if he was using magic, which was supposed to be impossible, and started glowing through his armor like he'd been forced to eat a whole lyrium mine. Oghren was especially surprised by the fact that whatever he was doing made him feel as though he was standing in the presence of pure, raw lyrium. It unnerved the fighter even more because he still didn't know what he looked like, or anything about him besides his name and the fact that he could kick serious ass.
And that everyone seemed to listen to his orders over Gwen's. What kind of freak was he anyway?
Really, even during the days of camping, he'd kept that annoying, white headband over his head and eyes, and even a sort of scarf over the lower part of his face. From the others' banter, the warrior knew the guy had a beard and moustache, but he'd still yet to see the guy's actual face. And he never even got an explanation besides 'he prefers it concealed.' Anyway, the annoying guy was using some sort of power.
With that, and that elf using some weird blood magic to cause the enemies' blood to boil in their own veins, they were able to turn the tide and win. The sheer frustration actually pushed Oghren himself into the motherload of all berserker furies (he was careful to notify the others this time around) and, thus, he hacked and sliced quite a few things, while Wynne used that blue mist of hers to keep him going (alive as it were).
Shale seemed just as eager to crush things, though she did get chipped a little.
Thankfully, the warden sense had given them enough forewarning to actually leave the bronto in a side tunnel. By Stone's mercy, it was still there when they went to retrieve it.
And now, they were yet again having trouble, having been swarmed by corrupted spiders, of all things. They'd walked into the area of Ortan Thaig itself, since they'd been forced to take some tunnels, since the Deep Roads leading there had been collapsed over. When they did, they saw some dwarf kid up ahead, but before anyone could reason with him, he panicked and ran off into a cave. And to top it all off, a dozen spiders jumped down from wherever they had been hiding and swarmed them all at once.
Spiders were nasty things. Even after having fought some before, the wardens were still jumpy when it come to them, especially Theron. He'd had the bad luck of having been ambushed and it took both Gwen and Alistair to drag the thing off him and kill it before it could finish him off. Wynne spent the larger part of the battle pushing healing magic into him, but she was able to save his life. The poison he'd been injected with had been little, and it looked like the elf had built up tolerance to toxins over the years.
Anyway, once the fight was over (again), they were able to look around. After taking a swig of ale, Oghren noticed that a sort of hilltop extended forward, with two stone bridges, one of them having collapsed-half-way sometime in the past. The part of the Thaig on this side was expansive and had many ruins all over the place, some in better shape than the others. Either way, it was easy to see that had been a city, one even bigger than Orzammar at one point. Even the ceiling was about as high up as Orzammar's was right now, though far better lit.
The warrior actually wondered where the light came from for a while, but his eyes were drawn to what looked like a sort of dais up ahead, right next to one of the walls that weren't as rundown as the. An altar of some sort was there too. Nevertheless, his attention was brought back to his immediate surroundings when the others got back to their senses. Theron had suffered a broken arm, which meant his bow was unusable for a while, at least until Wynne managed to recover enough to try some more serious spirit healing.
"A yes, corrupted spiders," Duran noted, still annoying with his helmet on. "I should have expected this after what Duncan told me."
That instantly got Alistair's head to do a 180. "What did you just say? When did Duncan talk to you about this?"
"Oh, that," the guy shrugged. "Back when I was recruited and we stopped in Lothering for the night. He told me of an... adventure he'd had in this place, although I do seem to remember him saying there was a lot of that fleshy, darkspawn corruption around." He looked and noticed the dais as well. "Anyway, that's not important at the moment." Then he muttered something, sounding like "should've know that thing would be in this place."
"That dwarf that was out there," Gwen spoke. "Did he actually call these spiders?"
"I say we should investigate," Leliana suggested.
After the obligatory exchange of jabs and jokes, Gwen took point and headed in the direction prescribed, followed by everyone else as they went along. The passage opened up in what looked like an old campsite, lit by the light of some braziers but mostly wrecked. There, near a campfire (well, one of those disks really), there was a young dwarf, wearing a suit of dwarven chainmail. He was hunched and fidgeting, jerking his head around and looking really disturbed. Oghren didn't immediately see it, but when he got close enough, he noticed flesh much like that of darkspawn on him. Even the skin on his face had mutated.
"A campsite," Oghren breathed out. "I wonder if Branka was here."
"Go away! This is mine! Only I gets to plunder its riches!" the guy raved. Obviously some stones were loose in his head. "It's mine! I'm the one who found it. I drove out the crawlers. Now it's mine!"
"The guy's nuts," he grumbled.
Gwen took a visible gulp. "Calm down kid. I just want to talk to you."
"No! No talking! You leave my territory!"
"Look, calm down," Kallian urged, stepping forward. "We're not going to steal anything, I promise."
He seemed to believe them and calmed down. At least he didn't look as eager to die on their blades as before anyway. "You-you won't take anything from Ruck? You won't take his shiny worms? Or pretty rocks?"
"We won't touch anything," Gwen confirmed. "I just want to talk to you a little. Ask you a few things. That's okay, right?"
"Ruck not pretty name, not pretty like lady. Ruck is small and ugly and twisted," he seemed to be only half delirious. "Ruck's my name. I do not hear it much, so sometimes I like to speak it out loud. Ruck! Ruck! Ruck!" He giggled oddly a bit before looking up from his hunched position. His eyes were pale, ghoulish, for that's what he was. "I will answer your questions, pretty lady. Anything you wish."
Oghren noticed Duran slowly traipsing to the side, near the wall and just looking at the brown-haired kid as the two women began interrogating him. "Did you find anything unusual at this camp?" the human woman asked first. Good, maybe this will get them the info they needed.
"Bits of things, but only bits. The crawlers took almost everything," he rambled and scratched the blighted skin beneath his eyes. "They takes things of steel and things of paper. They takes the shinies and the words."
"Paper and words?" Oghren asked. "That sounds like someone was taking notes. Do you think Branka camped here?"
"They bring to the great nest, the nest they makes for the eggs. They puts the shinies inside, they do," Ruck followed as if he didn't hear him.
"How long have you been down here?" Faren finally deigned to ask.
"Mister wants answer questions too? Well, Ruck thinks maybe it is fine, if mister is with pretty ladies." He thought for a while, but still jerked his head around frantically. "Errr... me thinks... years. Yes, yes, five times years maybe?"
"Holy hell, that long?" Faren almost gasped. "How did you survive?"
"When the dark ones were here, I kept to the shadows," he rambled, and rubbed those blighted hands together. "They don't look in the shadows, not if you're quiet. Not if you eat their flesh. Then the dark ones think you're one of them. They leave you alone. But now they're gone. The crawlers, they used to eat the smallest dark ones, but now they go hungry."
"Ruck," Gwen began slowly. "I think I met your mother, Filda. She was praying to the Ancestors to get you back."
Thta instantly sent him panicking. "N-n-n-no. No Filda. No mother. No warm blanket and stew and pillow and soft words! Ruck doesn't deserve good memories. No-no-no-no-no-!"
"But she misses you," Kallian pressed.
"Ruck cannot, no, no. Back at the city, Ruck would be arrested and thrown into the mines. That is where I fled from. Ran away!" He was practically horrified. "Sh-she did not know, not what I did. I was very, very, very, very angry and then someone was dead. They wanted to send Ruck to the mines. If I went to the mines, sh-she would know. Everyone would know. So I came here, instead."
"So you ran away from your crime just so you'd spare your mother grief," Duran finally spoke. "And came here? You think this is freedom?"
Ruck nodded. "Here, I live free. I... collect my rocks and worms and shinies. At least... at least I am free. Once you eat... once you takes in the darkness... you not miss the light so much. You know, do you not? Ruck sees, yes. He sees the darkness inside pretty ladies..."
"We are Grey Wardens, it's not the same thing," Gwen said firmly.
A flicker of recognition. "Grey like the stone. Guardian against the darkness," he glanced in Kallian's direction. "Beautiful like waterfalls under the lichen." He then looked back at Duran and, for a long moment, actually straightened his head and stared intently. "Not you, though. Not you. Too bright." He looked at Gwen. "Pretty lady is like Mother, yes. Too good, too pretty for the darkness." He looked pleading. "T-tell the mother Ruck is dead. He's dead and his bones are rotting in the crawlers' webs and she should never look again."
For a short while, no one said anything, though Kallian eventually decided to change the subject.
"Do you know where these 'dark ones' went?" she asked gently.
Ruck grinned (it looked creepy, even to Oghren). "I thinks they went south, pretty lady. Far, far to the south. That is where the dark master calls them with his beautiful voice. So much joy when he awoke!"
"Mmmm... He's talking about the Archdemon, huh?" Oghren guessed easily enough, not that it was supposed to be hard. "Wonder where it is now. You guys are looking for it, right?"
"After the dark master awoke, he called his children and they all went. I wanted to go, too, and gaze upon his beauty..." Ruck drawled awkwardly. "He stopped calling. I wish I could go see him, but Ruck, no, no, Ruck-Ruck is a coward. Ruck too scared, especially after the dark master was angry. Oh yes, angry, gah!" He cowered for no reason, startled by his own memory. "Oh, not here. Dark master frightening. The song was broken, for a moment, a loud, screeching noise drilled through it. The master was angry, so angry that many crawlies fled, and the stalkers went away and the dark ones screamed, screamed in Ruck's head all at once." He began to whimper.
"Wow," Alim, apparently, did not restrain himself as he looked at the massively armored dwarf warden. "Your stint really shook things up."
It was then that Ruck straightened a little and walked a bit away from the campfire, looking at Duran all the while. "Yes, too bright. Ruck remembers. The thing that drilled through the song, that scared the dark ones." He hunched again and peered with narrowed eyes. "The one that made the dark master angry, that's the masked mister, isn't it?"
Well, if anything could capture the entirety of Oghren's attention, sober or not, that was it, because he stared dumbly at how the guy took off his helmet. It didn't really reveal his face, since he still had that scarf over his face, but the headband, at least, did not cover his eyes.
And then, those eyes opened, and they were shining white, enough that Ruck cowered again and took a step back, though he seemed to be excited instead of scared. "Yes-yes! Ruck was right! Masked mister is the one. The one the dark master wants. The one he can't see..."
This was probably the part where he was to stare in shock, but Oghren got another reason when Duran suddenly staggered backwards and immediately took the scarf away from his face, flinging it away as he wobbled over to the wall, to use it as support. He keeled over and gagged.
In a split second, Ruck was on his back, on the ground, with Faren on top of him, a dagger at his throat. "Stop what you're doing! NOW!"
"Gah!" The kid screamed and brought his hands to shield his face. "Ruck did nothing! Ruck not innocent of killing, but innocent of this! Ruck did nothing! Ruck doing nothing to bright, masked mister!"
The campsite was filled with the noise of Duran falling to one knee, bending over and throwing up everything in his stomach. He heaved a few times before his chest and gut settled. "Get off him, Faren. It's okay... He didn't do anything."
Oghren frowned. "You're telling me you got sick just from looking at him? You're not that squeamish, are you?" He was honestly asking because it didn't make sense after fighting darkspawn and everything else.
With Alim's help, the guy stood up again, but he was still a bit out of sorts. He was still looking more or less away so Oghren couldn't see his face just yet. "The soul... Stone's mercy, his Soul... that taint, it..." He covered his eyes, which finally stopped glowing if the way the wall was no longer lit was any indication. "Alim... use your true seeing on him... but brace yourself."
Curious, the black magician let the dwarf lean against the wall with both arms and murmured something before his eyes glowed blue. He looked at Ruck for a long minute, dead silence settling upon the area as Faren did his best to soundlessly step off him. The elf held the gaze but eventually covered his eyes with his hand and looked away, apparently having found the exact light wavelength to look at (not that Oghren could guess that much).
No doubt worried by how Alim was now also holding a hand over his stomach, Wynne decided to ask. "What did you see?"
"The... no... I can't describe it, and you probably don't want to know." Even Alim sounded outright disturbed.
"Please don't hurt Ruck. Ruck is sorry..." the poor kid whined, actually making Oghren feel a bit of pity for the poor sot.
It was the sickly guy, Duran, that answered that, however. "You're beyond hurt." His voice was soft, and he finally reached behind his head and untied his headband, letting it flutter to the ground.
And when he slowly turned around, House Kondrat's last member did a double take when he saw just what he'd been prevented from seeing of his face. "Holy... By the Paragons' nipples! You're king Endrin's kid!" No one answered, not even looked at him. "He's the sodding prince?"
Duran glanced in his direction with those pale eyes of his just for an instant before he turned his gaze upon the ghoulish young man. He stood straight, looking suddenly taller as he made a step, then another, then another. And with each step, white energy coalesced, like those same gossamer strands just flowing around him.
Ruck didn't seem alarmed at all, like he didn't even see what was going on. "T-tell the mother Ruck is dead. He's dead and his bones are rotting in the crawlers' webs and she should never look again."
Duran stopped dead in his tracks and stared. And watched the lad squirm and fidget. Then, he brought his hands together and took off his gauntlets. After that, he did the same to his bracers. Then the pauldrons followed, then the cuirass, which Alim helped him take off, even as everyone else just looked on, waiting to see what would happen. And when he was just in his greaves and boots, with just a white shirt on and bare-handed, he resumed his advance, slowly. "It's alright," his voice sounded soft, bereft of any mockery or arrogance even to Oghren's ears.
"You tell mother? Yes, that's what Ruck is. Dead. Dead like bones that turn to dust when you touch them." He still ducked back, but let the other dwarf come close. Everyone just watched as he shivered but did not shy away when the prince's hand was on his shoulder.
"I'll tell her you died bravely." He assured him gently.
Ruck seemed glad and just let the bright one draw him close in a hug. A part of Oghren's head wondered how that prince, if it really was him, could stomach such physical contact with a blighter like him, but he was still more amazed at how that had happened. The guy had just hugged Ruck's head close to his chest, and the light streaming out of him kept growing stronger and brighter.
He was too taken to notice how surprised everyone else was as well, even Sten, who'd been standing at the back all the while. Only Raonar's back was visible now, but it probably wouldn't have mattered if they could see him from any other direction. Those strands of sparse magical light floated around him like they belonged to something else entirely, and the air began to vibrate with an eerie hum.
Ruck's legs seemed to grow weaker and he brought his arms around himself as the prince drew him closer. "Mister is good friend? Makes the beautiful song go away. Silence... Silence is prettier..."
"Shhh," Raonar stroked his hair and let himself fall to his knees when Ruck couldn't stand up anymore.
"Nnn... good friend is warm," he actually pulled closer.
"Maker's breath," Alistair breathed out.
"What's he doing?" Kallian asked.
"Is he actually healing him?" Gwen asked Alim.
The elf just shook his head as everyone looked at him. "Can you cure a beheading? No, he's not healing him." When he didn't elaborate, the redheaded warrior shifted his weight and looked on, blinking as that scene stuck in his memory. It was so strange and unexpected that he forgot to drink ale entirely.
And then, Ruck seemed to tense. "Who's there? Stranger coming near," he was delirious then. "Big, bright mister coming. Says I should come along. Says I should go with him. But Ruck is scared. Ruck should stay here, where it's dark."
"No, it's okay kid." The exile's voice was strained, almost like... "It's alright, go with him." Almost like he was choking up and being careful not to hold him too tight. "He'll take good care of you and you won't have to be afraid anymore."
At that, the blighter sagged and deflated, no longer fighting whatever was happening. "Good friend is too kind. Ruck is a murderer, but the mister's friend says it's okay to go. Is it really okay for Ruck to go?"
"Yes, go with him," he was gently rubbing the kid's back now. "He'll look after you."
Oghren could only gape as the brightness slowly subsided. And though it took a while, it eventually faded altogether, along with the unnatural but oddly entrancing hum, until all that was left there was a tired-looking Grey Warden, clutching at a corpse. No one dared speak, not knowing what to say after what they'd just witnessed. Killing the poor kid and putting him out of his misery was one thing, but what the guy had just done...
At some point, Oghren realized everyone was looking at Alim for an explanation, because Raonar hadn't yet moved or let go of Ruck's body. The mage said nothing, however, nor did anyone else, until the real Warden Commander laid the kid's body on the ground, slowly and carefully. With his back still turned, he made as if to wipe something off his own face before taking a deep, shaky breath and turning to face them again. He had a very... glossed look on his face, with half-lidded eyes that seemed to not even notice everyone standing there.
"Kadan, are you well?" Sten finally asked, at last breaking the tension clearly in half.
"Yes..." he practically whispered. "Yes... I'm fine."
It was then and there that Oghren couldn't contain it any longer. "What in sodding hells did you do! Did you just suck out the guy's soul?" The question cut through everyone like an absurdly sharp blade. It was probably the first time in a long while when the warrior from Orzammar glared at someone and firmly grasped the shaft of his axe. "What are you?"
"-. .-"
Excerpt from journal of Senior Enchanter Wynne
21 Pluitanis, 9:31, Dragon: I think yesterday was taxing for all of us, but Oghren mot of all. The shock he received was actually big enough for him to almost take arms against our Commanding Officer, but he eventually calmed down. Of course, before we got him to settle, Sten had already threatened him with bodily harm if he continued to keep his weapon raised in his kadan's direction. The fact that Oghren taunted the qunari did not help matters.
Fortunately, Duran, or is it Raonar again now? He told Sten to stand down and told Oghren that he was a dwarven mage... or something close enough to that. I... suppose it is a close enough approximation for the moment. The poor fighter ended up staring in shock for a while before he put his weapon away and emptied his entire flacon of ale. After that, he walked back straight to where the bronto had been left to wait and emptied another one before he let himself sit on the ground and process things.
We ended up making camp there while Raonar explained things in simple terms to Oghren. I don't know exactly what he told him of the source of his powers, and of his survival by being inducted into the Grey Wardens, but I do know he did not reveal the truth of things in Orzammar. We shall refrain from doing so as well. I understand the commander also managed to persuade Oghren to not reveal who he was to anyone, at least for the time being, not that we will meet many people down here.
Fortunately, the man doesn't seem to care enough to actually want to spill the beans. Of course, Sten glaring him down probably contribute to his cooperation, although I am unsure which of the two would win in a fight after I witnessed the dwarf's skills.
As for what happened... from what Alim explained, this darkspawn taint... seems to attack not just the body, but also the soul on some level. I have no idea just what they were able to see, but if it was capable of making Raonar, of all people, throw up...
And then he killed the lad. Or so it seemed to us. If I understand things correctly, from what Alim explained, since he'd been using his true seeing (I really should learn that spell) Raonar somehow... severed that small part left of Ruck's soul from the tainted, blotted one and sent it into the fade. Well, Honor pulled it in, much like that sloth demon did to us all back at the Circle. Honor or another benign spirit might supposedly help him heal before letting him go on to whatever afterlife is meant for him. When asked why he didn't just kill him, our exiled prince answered that he was quite certain no afterlife would have welcomed him in that state.
As I understand, dwarves believe they return to the Stone when they die. Being cut off from the Fade (usually), I cannot know what happens to them, if they even go on existing after they die. Duran said he'll keep his thoughts on it to himself, but on being asked, he explained that one of the theories is that the souls of the fallen congregate somewhere in this world, where the Stone Lives, wherever that place may be. He said that lyrium is called 'the voice of the ancestors' and that their souls might be its source. After all, lyrium grew, like tree roots.
Either way, Ruck is in the Fade now, or what's left of him. We'll have to give his mother our best wishes when we see her.
In the meantime, we went through the things in Ruck's camp and we actually found some very intriguing things. The Armor of Divine Will granted by the Chantry to no lower than a knight-vigilant had Alistair's eyes glittering with anticipation. I understand it has high magical protection, just perfect for a templar like him. He should now be able to start wearing it along with the effort's gloves and boots, plus that helmet Damon found. I understand their enchantments resonate well together.
We also found a Shield of the Legion, a black targe made of dragonbone, as well as a leather belt with lyrium inscribed into it. I was given that in fact, as it boosts one's magical power. The last thing of note was a top-tier cold iron rune. I have no idea how that unfortunate lad came about all these, as well as a huge supply of lifestones and deep mushrooms, but no one is complaining.
Oghren finally fell asleep and will likely have the worst hangover ever when he stirs tomorrow. The commander and Alim are conversing again, out of our earshot. I understand something is to be done with those bags of body parts tomorrow, but I honestly do not know what. I also suspect I might not like it if I did.
"-. .-"
Alim really was wondering if he should be more against keeping everyone else in the dark about so many things that only he and Raonar knew about. Still, the guy had insisted that he be the only person to accompany him away from camp once everyone was up. Case in point, they were now at the base of that so-called hill and the elf was doing his best not to rub his eyes at what the guy was telling him.
The dwarf took out two new tablets, the ones he'd found along with the two bags of body parts in Caridin's Cross. He began to translate one aloud. "Might not be elven, maybe human. Doesn't matter, we can still follow directions. Torso, head, and limbs bagged and dispersed. Simple enough. This magic stuff doesn't seem that complicated." That was what Shaper Axus had written. And, of course, there was something scribbled on the side. "No job for a warrior! First hole gets the bag!"
"I get the feeling I won't like where this is going," Alim informed the commander with his driest of tones.
Raonar just read the third one. "The body rendered to its separate parts, spread wide such that no life is witnessed, no heartbeat detected. In this way, the beast can remain for an age, as knowledge passes and pursuers live out their lives." Then, of course, the scribbled part. "I was wrong! Not elven! Hunters didn't kill it. It allowed this? Keep the pieces apart, I guess. Away from the heart."
"The heart?" Alim caught on, bringing his fingers under his nose in that thoughtful pose of his. "So the heart was not in the torso?"
"I think I know what this all is," Duran said flatly, though his eyes betrayed some anxiousness.
"What are you planning? Do I even want to know?"
Raonar explained.
"That's crazy!" The elf almost shouted and made a flourish of refusal with his right arm. "I know your gambits always have odd stakes, but this is a bit too much. At least tell the others before you actually do this..."
"No." The answer was final. "The less they know of this, the less it has to see in them, the better. We're not all blood mages like you or indomitable people with mental defenses strong enough to withstand hostile psychic forces, like me. Faren's probably the only other person cut out for this, and he'll probably try to restrain me with chains and manacles."
"Maybe it would be a good idea," the mage shot back, frowning and folding his arms. "If this thing is really what you think..."
"It is."
The black magician sighed in defeat. "None of us want to see you dead man, and you still have to go back. Your brother is waiting for you. Why do this?"
Duran explained.
Alim stared in shock.
"Take it as a test to see if we can really match the Archdemon."
So Alim groaned. "That's crazy!"
"-. .-"
Oghren had a headache, which wasn't that new. What was new was that it was worse than any he'd ever had before. Sodding freaks and their not-really-being abomination states. He just wanted to find his wife and get her back home, was that so much to ask? Did he have to run into all kinds of crazies on the way there? Or spend the night camping with more than just one? Sure, the guy said he couldn't really kill anyone that way, since Ruck was a special case or something, but it's not like he was trustworthy.
Oghren was pissed. He'd been kept in the dark about all this and it really bothered him for some reason, more than it should have. Maybe it was because he didn't know if the guy really had killed his brother. Or because he was a noble and had deceived him for so long, along with the entire city. After all, he didn't say anything about his exile, just that he'd been recruited into the wardens after sealed in the deeps.
Either way, the guy was just too weird and... well, unnatural.
And now, he was putting some limbs, a head and the torso of some long-dead... thing.. on that altar on the dais at the top of the small hill, right next to that larger than usual ruin. What kind of person does that sort of thing? Oghren hadn't been allowed to go near. Everyone except that dwarf were down at the base, not exactly beyond the range of spells or arrows, but far enough.
The dais was circular and had just that stone altar in the middle. Fortunately, the hill was long, extending alongside that place for at least a half a mile. A lot of old ruined buildings, even some intact ones, were everywhere. Some eroded columns existed here and there, even an old archway on the left.
They'd already gone past the point where everyone complained about something possibly blowing up in the guy's face once he finishes whatever he's doing, but here they were doing as he said. How in Stone's name had that prince ended up as Warden Commander? Either way, everyone was just staring. Alim, Faren, Oghren and Kallian were in front, since they were shortest. Gwen and Alistair were right behind them, along with Wynne, Morrigan and Leliana. Zevran was on the left, peering curiously, while Theron flanked the bard on the other side. Sten and Shale were farthest to the back, being huge and all.
The dogs and wolf were on the left, panting and whining occasionally.
Eventually, the white-haired guy finished putting those body parts (they looked yellow, almost golden) on the altar and stepped back, stroking his beard from how he was standing, with his back turned to them all. Then, he finally said something, and Oghren (like everyone else, as he'd later learn) heard it as though it was being whispered into his mind by the altar itself.
"The limbs, mere meat. The torso, but a vessel. The head, all but unnecessary. The heart, separate, keeps life. The heart, safe from the blade, can be restored. The heart waits, in the Fade."
At once the dais cracked with energy, like lightning, blue and white began to arch and sizzle through it. The magic flared and gathered, causing the body parts to flow upward and twist, crack. Then, flesh began to grow form then, turning from that yellow into a dark violet as sinews came into existence and knitted together. A form eventually appeared, legs long and thick stomped the ground under their weight. The head was like that of a fish, only with razor-sharp teeth and three sets of eyes, and it had horns, black and gnarled. Its arms were huge, larger than even its legs.
And what was more unnerving was that bone-like... things, like scales or spikes, covered it almost completely. The head, the front, the back, the legs, it all had that natural (it it even was natural) armor, and the one on the back of the forearms grew long, until the... bones, or whatever they were, looked like spiked vines that reached as high as the beast's shoulders.
"What the sodding spit is that!" How else could he react to seeing that thing? Everyone else had their eyes wide in astonishment as well.
The 3 meter-tall beast seemed a bit confused at first, like it didn't expect to be put back together.
Raonar waved. "Down here."
There was a pause.
The dais was rocked by an explosion as the Fade Beast brought its arm down upon it, shattering it under the weight of pure kinetic force. Dust and rubble was thrown in the air, some larger rocks somehow being thrown towards everyone else, though they clashed with a force field that Alim had thoughtfully created. The cloud of smoke and gravel eventually began to settle.
The fade beast had reared and looked like it was sneering in the direction of the archway just close to where the now split platform lay. There, on top of it, the dwarf stood crouched, enveloped in that annoyingly white aura of his. He'd jumped well out of the way of the creature's attack and landed on that piece of architecture.
Then, everyone really got a reason to feel shocked. because the demon spoke, its voice loaded with recognition.
"YOU!"
The Warden Commander stood and looked down at the beast from where he stood up above, sneering the next words in full contempt and mockery instead of actually speaking them with any sort of politeness. "Hello Pride."
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