Author's Notes: Right, another long one people. Sorry it took so long, but eh, what can you do?
Don't freak out about the length. 7,000 words of all this is actually an author's note at the bottom, which used to be the intermission before Chapter 49.
Chapter 48: The Third Deal
"-. Demonic spirits teach more than blood magic. Reavers terrorize their enemies, feast upon the souls of their slain opponents to heal their own flesh, and can unleash a blood frenzy that makes them more powerful as they come nearer to their own deaths. .-"
It had occurred, during the night, that Alim Surana had disappeared from the camp for a time, without anyone, save the Warden Commander, knowing. It had also occurred that a bunch of fire bombs, metal wire hems, metal shards and other miscellanea had disappeared, seemingly overnight (well, while they were camping, since there really was no day/night cycle deep underground). It had also occurred that those things progressively disappeared around the same times as when the Commander of the Grey left with the elven mage somewhere or another.
It also occurred that no one realized the fact that Alim had used a sleeping spell on them (minus the hounds) to prevent them from possibly catching on to their repeated disappearances. Of course, Shale was always there, but she didn't seem to be paying attention because she was busy squishing rockworms and such (and was too apathetic to actually report on these activities unless she was specifically asked about it... maybe). The dogs and wolf could easily pick up on any animal threat if need be, and the Warden sense made it clear no darkspawn were that close to their position to be any threat (and the Wardens would have been awakened by their eventual approach anyway).
As such, Oghren Kondrat didn't know about any of those things happening. Of course, even if he did, he probably would not have been thinking about them right now. He was more preoccupied gazing with wide eyes at the staredown that... that thing... and the supposed Warden Commander had engaged in. Of course, he still couldn't help pointing at the scene. "What in Stone's nipples is that?" Truth be told, the warrior was more concerned with how he felt his skin crawl the moment that thing appeared, as if some base feeling of fear had been dragged to the outside, squirming.
"Oho, a Pride Demon," Morrigan realized. "Dwarves must have been up to a great many things if such a thing is here even despite how their race has no magic of their own to speak of." The next moment, she just turned into a wolf for no reason the dwarf could guess.
Everyone went silent when the Warden Commander, still with that... nimbus of white, shining strands floating around him... jumped down from that archway and now stood, looking up at the... whatever it was that was making something inside Oghran yell 'Axe to the face, AXE TO THE FACE, AXE TO THE FACE, DAMMIT!"
The prince's voice rang clear in the underground expanse, ruins and all, as he began to pace, though the way he carried himself spoke of alertness. "You know, Pride, I always did wonder how you were able to escape through that breach even left drained as you were back then. To think you had a physical anchor in this world." He stopped and seemed to look straight in those multiple eye sets. "And it looks like this body of yours has been here for centuries. I suppose this explains just how you even were able to stumble upon Honor's corner of the Fade, isolated as it was, since some measure of spatial coordination exists between this and that world, at least at a symbolic level."
The demon reared farther and flexed its long, unnatural, violet fingers. "Do not be so overcome with your own arrogance just because you have restored that which was cut asunder, and revealed my hiding place, puny one."
"Says the one who's been hiding in not one but three gutters for centuries," the prince noted dryly, with some echo in his own words, something along the lines of Shale's own voice, Oghren noticed..
Oddly enough, a sinister laughter, that made the dwarven fighter wish he'd drank less ale at breakfast, was all that was heard on the thing's part. "Do not delude yourself, mortal. My deception was convenience, not cowardice."
"Strange," the exile said again. "I do seem to recall how you fled Honor's wrath quite... vigorously. I remember it vividly."
Pride laughed again. "Is that supposed to be a taunt? I am not one of my lesser kin, who are dominated by the base desire they represent. So cease your meaningless boasting and speak your intentions. Seek you vengeance or reward for restoring me?"
"Ho-Ho! So quick to barter you are," Raonar joked.
"Oh come now, mortal," it actually did a dismissing wave, swiping that odd, long, gauntlet-like, forearm bone outgrowth through the air. "If a fight is what you were looking for, you would have arrayed that pack of followers you have with you in a sort of ambush and attempted to destroy me as soon as I formed, for all the good it would have done. That is, provided you possessed any sort of intelligence in that skull of yours."
"Ah, you have seen through me completely," was the mild reply, curt nod and all. "Though you might change your casual tune once you realize just what it is I'm about to start bartering for."
Oghren's attention was drawn back to closer quarters when Wynne gasped. "What is he doing? Surely he has more wisdom than to barter with demons." She looked spooked, as did some of the others, especially Leliana and Gwen. The others all looked concerned, except for that mage elf, who just had his blank stare on.
"Just watch and listen," Alim advised, gripping his staff tight. "And brace yourselves."
The red-haired fighter didn't have much time to ponder on what the hell that meant because the demon spoke again, after a bout of infernal chuckling of course. "You think you can surprise me, tiny one? I have seen men's hearts more times than you could count, and there has yet to be anyone that truly stood apart. Do not easily think of yourself as special. So let us hear it. Speak."
The exile let whatever magic he was channeling die down, until he looked more or less normal, white hair and eyes aside. "Oh? Are you saying you've lost your edge? Shouldn't you be able to 'see' my so-called wish just by looking at me, in my mind as it were?" His words were a clear challenge.
"What?" This time, it had been the human guy that gasped. "What is he saying?"
Pride said nothing but seemed a bit... annoyed, or so Oghren thought.
"Unless, of course..." Raonar picked up, "... you have been trying to see it but couldn't. Annoying, isn't it? To be denied a direct dissection of your quarry's mind."
Pride sounded as unimpressed as ever. "Oh, do not sound so brazen. You aren't the first to deny my kind immediate entry into your mind, nor are your defenses the best I ever encountered. You should be glad I have not tried to more seriously assault you on a psychic level."
Oghren heard Alim mutter something that sounded suspiciously like "Oh please, you have no idea."
The two on the now crushed dais did not seem to hear them, and it was the prince that spoke again. "So try again. I'll make it easier... for a moment." He sounded... smug?
Pride straightened up, meaning that he was now even taller than before, and looked down upon the, admittedly, tiny dwarf. All seemed to go still as neither of them seemed to be doing anything. "I'm getting a bad feeling," Kallian whispered.
Pride suddenly became alert and actually stomped back, sneering, and everyone could feel a wave of anger washing over them. "You know my name!"
By now, the other one was drawing from beyond the veil again, white energy floating about. "Indeed."
"Revealing that was a mistake!" the demon's voice thundered as a corona of magic began to gather around him. "You are a fool! You are no mage, so you have not the sort of ability needed to even dream of attempting to use the power inherent in identity. There shall be no negotiations if this is the case." The creature had already begun to gather energy in the form of flames in those huge hands of his.
Oghren didn't know when he'd drawn his axe, and he was too focused on what was ahead to see that some of the others had also armed themselves. All he felt was throbbing in his chest and temples.
Then, much to everyone's astonishment, the white-haired one spoke in a tone usually employed to speak of what to cook for dinner. "Before you flip out, you might want to take a closer look at those guys," he waved in everyone else's direction. "Especially since some of them are mages."
Pride abruptly stopped what he was doing.
There was a pause.
Then, the thing actually turned its head towards them and, even fairly far away as he was, seemed to bore straight into their souls, coaxing out their deepest secrets.
Its settled on Faren first, and the creature looked bemused as it continued to stare at the frowning rogue who was holding his two daggers firmly.
"Oh, you're wasting your time on him. That kid's immune to pretty much any non-elemental hostile magic, psychic assaults included," Raonar said helpfully, rubbing his fingernails against his armor. "Comes from kicking demons' behinds in their own realms and with being subject to this really annoying magical outpour that gushes out of me constantly."
Oghren could swear that thing stared at the guy in disbelief before resuming its scrutiny. He immediately wished it hadn't, because it looked at him next, and he felt like something was crawling beneath his skin and across his brain. He couldn't help but sneer and clench his teeth while gripping onto the shaft of his greataxe as tight as he could.
"Hmph, barely any self-esteem at all in that one. Pitiful." The thing's voice sounded clinical and it pissed him off. Fortunately, it went away and over to the others in turn, and the warrior saw all of them frown, glare or just become more tense when their turn came. Gwen, Kallian and Leliana got their turns before Pride went to Theron. "Ah. Strange, so much pride, stemming from things separate from himself, and indifference in the same place at once. Curious." It kept looking at the Dalish for a while before it got to Alistair. Oddly enough, Pride seemed to stoop a bit, as though he was focusing.
Alistair stood straight and abruptly released a mild blast of energy from his own eyes. "Don't even try it."
"Templar," it hissed. "Well rounded one too, and a very strong mind of his own, even without drinking lyrium compounds. I see none of the side-effects of exposure or addiction." It actually tilted its head. "I do so wonder just where you get this uncanny mastery over residual magic. It's not something a human should be able to so easily accomplish."
Alistair just frowned and stayed silent, even though Gwen did shoot him a sideway glance before the creature turned to behold the others. It got to Zevran and made a "Hmm. No pride in this one at all. Not much dignity either." When the elf just raised an eyebrow, the demon briefly looked Shale and Sten over, then finally settled on Wynne.
A moment of silence passed.
"Bah! To think any human would come to have something like that inside them," Pride snarled, even though he didn't look like he had the nose to make that noise.
"What?" Oghren found himself asking. What was that thing talking about?
Faren elbowed him. "Later."
The fighter grunted and waited as the demon reluctantly turned to look at the remaining Warden.
The moment Pride locked gazes with Alim, the latter struck his staff against the ground beside him and something akin to wind began to flow out of him, prompting everyone to step away from him on instinct. His hair (still in that long, ponytail) began to flutter behind him and the longcoat billowed restlessly.
And just like that, the demon and the blood mage stared at each other intently and began to project magic upon one another (Oghren would only learn this later, upon having things explained to him). This eye duel, colored by the sound of wind, lasted for a minute, at which point a small, white sphere of magic appeared at the spot exactly half the distance between them.
Upon expanding into a spherical forcefield that seemed to contain kinetic force just struggling to burst out, the spell exploded, noisily, and threw a small cloud of dust in the air. Nothing else happened, since no one was close enough to get blown off their feet and into debris or whatnot.
At the end of it, Alim was holding his staff guardedly between himself and that thing, which was now standing more upright and looking at him, silently. Until it hissed. "Impressive," It hissed again. "Most impressive."
Some silence fell as the others resumed looking up ahead. Oghren did so as well, and it would be a while before he realized that pride had totally missed on even thinking of studying Morrigan, she having turned into a wolf and apparently fooled him into thinking she was just another animal.
And then, the exile spoke. "You know Pride... what you just said, with hissing and all, sounded like such a cliche... and I have no idea why." He recovered from the mild confoundment soon enough, however. "Either way, you're not in the Fade anymore, so you don't have a realm you can trap us in or crush us with. So, are you so eager to try and fight us now?"
Demons of pride were known for their boasts, but they also were not stupid. As such, the thing said nothing and just looked down on the puny thing taunting him. If it was angry or nervous, or frustrated, it did not show it.
"Names," Raonar let himself get back to his usual, non-glowing self. He even started walking around, like he was giving a lecture. "Names are a curious thing. We mortals don't exactly have to worry about them being used in many ways besides tracking us or using them to smear or inflate our reputation or such. We can even change them if we want, or give them up altogether. But in your case, they are a lot more important, and it took me a while to understand why."
Oghren was starting to wonder what the hell was going on. He never relaxed the grip on his axe.
The prince just went on. "We dwarves may sleep like the stone, being cut off from the Fade and all. Well, usually. But for everyone else... When I first learned how spirits create peoples' dreams, I had a lot of dilemmas. Like why you all would bother to let them dream of eating cheese or such."
Pride said nothing, though it did look a bit impatient, or so Oghren thought.
"Then I learned that, at least based on lore, you don't really have any creative potential or originality, just the ability to mimic what you see in mortals' minds. You crave it, this world that you could never have, well, with few exceptions like yourself. In the Fade, nothing outlives its creator, but here, everything does, even memories become imprinted on everything a person touches."
He brought his arm around in a flourish, indicating Ortan Thaig itself. "Even here. You see it, do you not? The memory of the struggle, when this place was overrun and so many men and women fell to the darkspawn. And you can see what came afterwards as well, though bits and pieces are all that remains of the more distant past. You crave it, don't you? This reality that is not transient, and you revel in it, and this is why you creatures can go for so long in this world without doing anything too obvious to expose yourselves. There is much for you to distract yourselves with."
"Strange how you mortals like to launch into such tirades. Is there a point to your dull speech?" The question was delivered in a clipped monotone.
Raonar went on like he hadn't heard him. "When I was trapped in the Fade, months ago, I wondered why it was that, if the Fade was governed by Will, we all couldn't just will ourselves out of there. I also wondered if maybe someone might possibly be strong-willed enough to actually will a demon out of existence."
Pride actually snorted.
"It wasn't until later that it was explained to me that only a special, very rare kind of mage, unoriginally dubbed 'dreamer,' could actually exert the same control over the Fade as you things do. Normal mages and mortals can only modify themselves, as they see themselves. Dreamers can do more, but even they would be hard pressed to actually will you to stop existing, since it would imply overriding the will of whoever or whatever it was that created you in the first place, in addition to yours, provided, of course, they knew your name. Much easier to smash you to symbolic dust."
"Ah, I assume this is where you expect me to congratulate you on your findings?" the demon asked, faintly amused. "Such a curious mind you have."
He ignored him again. "Yes, that is where the name comes in. Should one see a dream or be approached by a demon, renouncing the illusion, even in a 'dreamer's' case, would not really do much to hurt you. After all, you always assume a form, an illusion, depending on the sort of emotion you feed off, and it is only that illusion that can be banished from one's sight. But the real you, that is encased in your name. That is what a name is in the Fade. Identity itself."
"..."
"Yes, the name is the only 'real' thing about you. The only thing unique. The only 'essence' in a realm of make-believe. This finally gave me the answer to another nagging question: Why is it that even the most manipulative of demons keep their promises if they make a deal with someone? They might make the terms sound a certain way, to allow them room to maneuver, but they never break their deals."
Though he hadn't understood almost anything so far, even Oghren perked up at that and he saw that some of the others were looking surprised as well.
"The answer was quite simple really. You can't NOT follow up on the deal, because, once you agreed, you BECAME the one that agreed to the deal. In other words, your nature itself modified from "Myself" into "Myself who will perform the terms of a deal". You can't lie because those are original creations in and of themselves. It's a bitch, isn't it? To not be able to actually create anything totally new. Not to mention that lying means creating falsehood, a paradox that the Fade and this inhabitants cannot emulate."
"..."
"For instance. If you were in the Fade and decided to create a palace, you would gather whatever images you picked up from dreaming mortals and decide that your assumption that a palace is right there was true. That or you would impose your will upon the Fade that it took the form inherent in mortals' deepest desires, which is why dreams dispel when those trapped realize where they are. The Fade instantly changes to reflect what you spirits decide is truth. So if you lied about anything, like when approaching a mage in a dream, a new truth would appear, that you are lying, and the Fade would make it known to whoever you are trying to con."
"By all means, do go on." Pride sounded completely blase.
"And finally, now that you are here, in this world, you must make sure that everything about yourself is true, no exceptions. Since you being here was bringing part of the Fade, yourself that is, into this world, you are still subject to those same laws that define your nature and identity. So you cannot lie in a deal, or at least can't afford to do it, because it would make that part of you who made the deal a lie in itself, meaning no deal at all."
The temperature seemed to drop by 20 degrees. "And when one knows our name, which is one part will and the rest identity, their own WILL gains a greater measure of importance." The admission was reluctant. "That is why we say names have power."
"In other words," the dwarf continued, sounding confident. "If I know your name, I can find you and call you from wherever you are. Well, I could, if I were a mage. But, as it happens, you're already here, so we can talk up front about an agreement. So, while a deal would still have to be 'fair,' and negotiated, so to speak, I get to actually outline the initial terms instead of you."
The onlookers gave each other disbelieving glances.
"Hmph," Pride sounded a lot less annoyed than some would have liked. "You are not the first to have this 'advantage.' Just let me warn you that this confidence you seem to display may be a bit misplaced. But still, go on, what is it you seek? Wealth? Knowledge? Some artefact or another?"
"We should stop this," Wynne urged, looking in Alim's direction. Oghren saw that the black-haired elf mage was really the only person not displaying any sort of emotion. His face was unreadable.
"Is that guy crazy?" Faren finally let out in apparent disbelief. He glared in Alim's direction. "How long as he been planning for this? Since the first bag of limbs we found?"
"Not exactly..."
"Why wasn't I told anything?" He sounded affronted.
Alim smiled. "He said you would probably want to restrain him with chains and manacles."
Faren groaned and made to walk up there, but Alim stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. "Don't panic yet. The deal hasn't even been outlined."
As the others voiced their disapproval and worry one after another, albeit not too loudly, Pride's voice made itself heard over everything else.
"Speak."
For his part, the prince stood straight and grinned. "I won't. You're able enough to see it in my mind if I let you. See for yourself. What do I want?"
"What is Kadan thinking?" Sten made no effort to act like he approved.
"Wait," Gwen finally asked the others, though not loud enough to actually distract those two from another mental exchange. "Why all this? Is it that he doesn't want us to hear?"
"Well, it isn't like he ever tells us everything, or even anything, from the get go," Alistair said with a sigh.
"But there should be a limit!" Wynne complained.
"I'm going to strangle him," Gwen stated flatly. Then, stared at Faren as he stared back, realizing that they had both spoken those exact same words in the exact same intonation at the exact same time, albeit for different reasons.
All of them fell quiet again and they could only keep looking as that huge thing and the dwarf stared into each other's eyes (whichever set of eyes Raonar was even paying attention to). It didn't take long for the stare down to end, but when it did, it made Oghren want to curse because of the shivers that went down his spine. He gripped his axe even tighter, though he didn't think he was able to.
Pride smirked, then chuckled then actually began to laugh heartily until it was shaking entirely because of his own cackling. The ground itself seemed to rumble under his amusement, and there was much of it. "Hahahahahaha!" He let himself indulge in a long, long while of laughter. "Haha! That is what you are after? That is what you want me to give you?"
"Ah, so you find me amusing then?" the prince challenged.
"Oh, far be it from me to ridicule someone with such ambition!" Pride said cheerfully (it sounded downright scary coming from a Demon). "To think you'd want that kind of power, of all things, that knowledge. You aim for dangerous heights, dwarf. I am just amazed at what a fool Honor is. I wonder what he'd say and do if he knew the kind of creature he took under his wing. I am amazed you even came so far without him learning of this so-called wish of yours."
"Well, you know." Raonar sounded vary at ease as he shrugged. "He's Honor, so he won't overstep his bounds and look into my mind and memories unless those parts that I specifically allow."
"And what of these ones," Pride motioned towards them all. "I am to understand they do not kno-"
"A! Careful what you reveal or there won't be any deal," the bearded one cautioned.
"Apologies," the Pride Demon was obviously playing along just to prolong his amusement. "So, what then are the so-called conditions and what are you prepared to offer in exchange for this power?"
"Aha! So you can give me what I want!"
"I do not like the way they speak," Wynne said, frowning. "Even the spirit inside me is uneasy, and this is something I have never felt before. What is that child thinking? You, Alim," she turned to him. "You know what is happening, don't you?"
"I don't know what Raonar wants from the demon," the elf answered.
"But you know other things," Alistair guessed.
"Ye're all mad," Oghren found himself growling. "We should hack that thing! To bits! I didn't sign up for this. I came to look for my wife, not... not this demon craziness."
"Quiet," Faren demanded, and that quieted everyone down well enough.
"I might agree to it, yes," Pride agreed. "Provided the so-called terms fit my mood. So let us hear them."
Raonar pulled the blade out of the scabbard on his back and threw the sheath away. The sword was a red steel, dwarven blade. He also readied his shield on his left arm and pointed his weapon straight at the beast. "While we all could just jump and probably destroy you, that would be too wasteful. So this is the deal: If you agree to grant me that boon, then I will fight you alone."
"WHAT!" Oghren's head rung, and he realized it was because the other red-haired dwarf had yelled that from right next to him. "Are you insane?" the kid shouted again, almost bolting to give him what for if not for Alim again grabbing him by the shoulder. Again.
"Stop," the mage admonished. "If you have any sort of trust for him, then trust him now."
"But this is madness," Leliana added.
"The bad part is that madness is par for the course with him," Gwen noted in a level voice.
For his part, the prince did not seem to pay any mind to the scene happening such a distance behind him, though it was Pride that spoke next. "And how do I know those ones won't interfere."
"Fine, then listen to these terms: You get to place a nice glyph of paralysis around them, along with a forcefield to keep them out of this. Should they manage to break your magic and destroy it from the inside, the paralysis explosion will immobilize them all, for a short time, giving you the window you need to escape, since the deal would be broken." He tuned out the gasps from afar. "Those two spells will last until one of us loses consciousness or dies. Also, should you manage to defeat me, that is kill me or knock me out, they will continue trapped for another hour, giving you all the time you need to leave. For your part, you will not take any sort of action against them, direct or indirect, ever, regardless of how our battle proceeds, unless they overstep their own bounds and engage you deliberately, are we clear? All you have to do is knock me out or kill me."
The creature was pondering it carefully, or so Oghren thought. "Provided that young one really is immune to unfriendly magic, he'll be unaffected by the paralysis. No matter, he is not much of a threat. I assume you'll want your so-called boon prepared in advance as well?"
"Of course. You won't be able to grant it to me if I kill you, will you?" the dwarf sounded smug. "Make it so that it will be usable once one of us loses consciousness or dies."
"You presume much to think you stand a chance, but I will acquiesce to your terms, on one condition. I will add a glyph of magical energy nullification as... insurance against your so-called followers."
"Agreed," the prince said. "But you'll make it conditional. It will activate only if they manage to break the force field somehow."
"This is too much," Wynne breathed out from where they were standing, far apart. "That will practically make us mages useless by draining us of all our energy."
"He's not really going through with this, is he?" Alistair asked hopefully.
"Just wait and see guys," Alim said crisply. "And be ready."
Pride stood a bit straighter and looked pensive, the way only a fish-faced thing could. "Very well." He then walked, well, stomped forward as the dwarf closed the distance on his side. "The pact will be sealed in blood."
"Indeed," the dwarf used the sword to slice open his own, left palm (he'd removed his gauntlet beforehand). "Your blood too." Oghren wondered why spirits had blood at all.
Pride used the nail (well, claw) on his index finger to make a cut in its right palm. "Naturally."
Faren looked at Alim, face showing that he was outright panicked. Not saying anything, he darted, only to clash, face-forward, into an unseen force field even before he made the first step. "Urk. Guh..." he rubbed at his nose and glared at the elf. "This is your force field! Turn it off."
"Too late," Gwen notified.
Indeed, those two had extended their left and right hands, respectively, at the other and already the air had begun to spin around them. Their blood began to float out and intermix, as magic gathered, filling everyone's ears with an unearthly shrill. A globe, dark red, took being just out of both their reach, about as big as the prince's head, and when it was done, the air around that dwarf and demon burst outwards with a blast not quite deafening, but close enough in intensity, throwing dust and debris away.
The sound went still.
In one instant, a circle of power appeared around those gathered far off, runes glowing green filling the space. Oghren had no idea what they said, because they didn't look dwarven. Either way, it was a nice, big circle within a circle, perfectly drawn by some unseen hand. Then, the edges of the inner circle, the one they were in, shot up and a shimmering dome grow around and over them all. And when it was complete, it faded out of sight, though the circle of power outside remained very much visible. "Sodding magic tricks," the dwarf muttered.
Faren quickly walked forward and felt for the field, and it was there, solid and unyielding. He tried to push against it, to no avail, so he slammed his fist against it, several times. He didn't manage more than a few, momentary flashed and ripples. "Dammit! I'll kill him! That crazy bastard!" He smashed his fist against it again. "Sod it! Shouldn't I be able to pass through this?"
"Well, technically, this isn't hostile magic. Attack spells are more volatile," Wynne explained. Oghren thought it may have been her way of distracting herself from being overwhelmed by the degree of insanity of it all. Hell, he himself had to drink a lot of ale just then. The situation could stand for no less.
"It is clearing," Sten uttered, looking at how the cloud of dust was settling.
A red sphere, shimmering in a very strange way had ascended at a very nice distance above those two. "There, this orb will be usable once our fight is ended. Of course, it will disappear when I inevitably defeat you," the demon boasted, cracking its neck as it prepared for battle. "Do try not to make it too easy."
The prince had, meanwhile, put his gauntlet back on, equipped his helmet (this was one that did not cover his face, so that his peripheral vision was not impaired) and taken his own position. He seemed to not be taking any chances either, what with his energies from beyond the Veil being on full throttle. "Yes yes. Now shut up and fight."
Without any further ado, Pride stomped his right foot on the ground, sending a shock through the earth and air. Rubble was thrown away as wind burst apart once more, flinging the dwarf well back, even despite how he'd set up his large, silverite targe as a wall in front of him. He stopped only when his armored back met the wall of that ruin, a flash of white filling the air for an instant, and he bent to the left, avoiding a spear of ice that shattered when it hit the granite.
The second such javelin, which Pride seemed to form in the same motion as he tossed them, the dwarf only dodged by rolling away. He did not seem to lose his head, however, because he finished that evasive move in a spin that ended with a forward leap. He used a timed magical pulse from his feet as a boost, so he was able to close the distance with that huge thing instantly, even before it could prepare a new spear.
With one fluid swing, the other hand of the demon, the left one, was sliced between the index and middle fingers by the white specter of a man. The cut didn't exactly reach the wrist, but it was close, so Pride grunted as he jerked his hand away, staring at the dark red blood as it gushed out (and with pride demons in that form having just four fingers for some unknown reason, the wound was especially troublesome).
The distraction was sufficient for the dwarf to successfully thrust his blade, gleaming white with his own power, straight down through the demon's foot.
A short howl projected through stone and air, some pain mixed with bubbling rage.
The backhand was one that the dwarf could not avoid, and he took it straight to the face. He retained hold on his sword, somehow, but was propelled backwards, until he impacted the wall again with a fairly loud bang of his plate mail. Bringing his shield in front of him saved him from the worst of a fireball, but the searing heat was distracting, as was the immediate lack of oxygen.
So he did what sane men would and dropped to the ground, covering his head with both arms (and the shield), just in time to not get his armor bashed by a hastily tossed stone missile. Of course, the rock burst apart noisily when it met the wall.
Ignoring the pain in his hand and foot, the demon leapt forward and brought a force-charged fist down upon the spot where the prince lay.
The explosion was loud, like a thunderclap, and was fitfully executed, down to the last crack in the earth.
However, the small one had predicted the attack and lunged himself forward, between the beasts' legs, and came to a halt, after rolling overhead, right behind that thing. Another spinning swing of that spectral-looking blade earned a nice cut on the back of the left leg, and a side jump got the dwarf away from an annoyed kick that only disturbed the white remnants of spirit magic.
Then, just before a hand, with outstretched, claw-like fingers, gleaming a sort of red, sharpened to go through anything, carved through him, the exile jumped as high as he could, blasting the ground with as much energy as he could push out.
Pride's fingers went through the trail of a white mist, into the ancient, granite wall, embedding themselves up to the knuckles, and the magical backlash blew it apart.
The dwarven spirit warrior landed on top of the wall adjacent to it and, before the demon could properly aim some spell at him, he jumped on the other side and made himself scarce, the remains of his corona vanishing soon after.
Pride produced a never before heard, demonic cry of frustration and didn't even hesitate before he punched that wall, intent on reducing it to dust.
So it was with great dismay that it grunted in pain as the dark crust on that fist was smashed, some of the splinters embedding themselves in his unnatural skin. Apparently, when his hits weren't complemented by some unholy magic empowerment or another, the granite was very much stronger than his 'bones.'
It was probably the first time in history that a mighty demon of pride stared in disbelief at how he'd actually inflicted a wound upon himself.
To his credit, he recovered quickly, shrugged off the pain in his other hand, the sliced left one, and made a brief wave with it. The wall froze over in a second, after which the foot that had been stabbed not long ago came against the construction, heel first.
The wall gave and crumbled, so Pride could finally stride through in search of his quarry.
There was only the noise of fading stomping.
As such, all that remained above what was once a dais with an altar was a red, shimmering orb that just hovered there, about ten meters in the air.
"That there, people, is what Uldred would have turned into if we hadn't taken him out as fast as we did," Alim pronounced, much to everyone's surprise.
Oghren looked at everyone in turn before he took a large, large swig of ale. "You Wardens are mad." Yes, he was repeating himself, but it was true.
"Shit! How are we supposed to know if things go bad now?" The castless kid was nervous, so Oghren really was starting to ask himself if there was anything... between... those two. Although he did remember him being into that elf girl. Then again, that didn't necessarily exclude... So if there were three of them... Huh...
Oghren's mind didn't get to wander far, fortunately enough, because he jumped when Morrigan gave up her wolf form and resumed being human. "Well, that was truly invigorating, though a bit foolish." She looked at the blood mage. "Unless, of course, he has something planned."
Gwen actually produced a very unladylike snort. "He always has something planned. The question is whether it's any less insane than his first plan."
"Screw that!" the brand snapped, still holding himself against the force field. "We have to bust out of here!" An explosion was heard some distance away. "Shit! What's happening! Oh, I hope he lives so I can beat the crap out of him myself!"
"He's still fine," Alim said very matter of factly, grasping his left forearm lightly. Oghren noticed something like white, shimmering threads going down his hand, though the sleeve covered it up to the knuckles. "I have a... way of keeping track." Even so, however, he grasped his staff tight and used the two, longer nails on his left middle and ring fingers to draw blood out of his own palm. "So far, everything is going as planned."
"You have some serious explaining to do," Gwen stated bluntly. "So out with it."
"Very well."
Almost everyone stared at him in shock.
"You..." Alistair most of all. "You mean you're actually going to tell us? Miracles never cease!"
"Hey, there was a good reason he kept you all out of it. He couldn't risk Pride reading into your minds deep enough to find out what he's meaning to do. Now pay attention, because this might get ugly."
So they did. The force field wasn't going to let them go anywhere any time soon anyway.
Or so they assumed.
"-. .-"
After a minute of it, a certain dwarven prince had again reached the conclusion that running in a massive coat of plates was not pleasant, even while on a dose of general magical enhancement. It did not help that Ortan Thaig was not exactly in its best shape, so he had to constantly go around fallen building pieces and over debris. It also did not help that he'd hurt his left elbow, on his shield arm, during that first exchange. Fortunately, the Lifegiver was living up to its name and healing it nicely, so it should be all fine again in about three minutes. It was probably a good thing that this state, where he called upon spiritual power, also gave him a very convenient healing rate.
Among other things, like enhanced speed, strength, hand-eye coordination and various tricks.
Of course, Pride could kill him in a single blow under the right circumstances. Best to avoid that.
The wall on the right of that alley, or what was an alley at some point in the past, burst outward in a show of demolition, right about ten paces ahead of where Raonar was running. Skidding to a halt, he blocked some stray wall parts with his shield. "Speak of the devil." Literally. Demons were pretty much devils themselves after all.
"Stop running, insect!" the creature bellowed, reaching towards him with a hand, enveloped in arcane might. "Be crushed in this cage!"
On any other person, a crushing prison was not something pleasant, mostly because it involved getting one's entire body crushed into a mangled heap under the pressure of near-immaterial bars.
Slowly.
Dwarves had a natural resistance to magic, so they had a bigger chance of getting away scot free. The dwarven prince, unfortunately, had long since lost his own spell resistance, and his equipment could not make up for it. He'd discovered that any armor enchantment with spell resistance just made his wild magic effect worse and more far-reaching, without any benefits. In other words, it could cause Alim, Morrigan or Wynne trouble casting properly unless they were very far away.
Elemental resistances still worked, although their potency constantly fluctuated. The only magic that wasn't really made worse (and actually boosted) was the regenerative variety, this being the reason the Lifegiver and his father's signet ring worked so well at constantly regenerating him all the time. It didn't really make up for healing spells not working on him, but it was a notable improvement.
On the other hand, it would be a lie to say there weren't benefits to this wild magic. Arcane spells, for instance, especially those that had to last on him, or in his proximity, for extended periods of time, had a tendency of going haywire, like a glyph or paralysis exploded in Honnleath, immobilizing him and all the darkspawn alike.
In this case, it made the crushing prison burst in every direction as if it had been cast on someone protected by a personal, spherical force field. All debris moved precisely one meter away from the dwarf, some sparse parts flying off and hitting Pride straight where the nose would be if he had one. One moment of confusion was all he needed.
Taking advantage of this good fortune, the exile eyed his goal, a side-alley right behind that thing, and he propelled himself straight ahead once more, passing like a phantasm by the beast and inflicting a cut in its side in the same leap, leaving some white, misty gossamer strands in his wake for good measure. He realized he wasn't making any overly deep cuts, but it was still better than what he would have managed if he hadn't been enhancing Gorim's sword with that psychokinetic, sharpening field.
Maric's Blade would have, no doubt, been much better for all this, but its enchantment was too valuable against the darkspawn and he couldn't afford to have it lost or destroyed in this personal score he had to settle.
He was satisfied to hear a hiss of pain even before he landed in a crouch and slid for two meters. He recovered his footing properly quite soon after and cautiously turned to face that thing, backing away towards that alley. It wouldn't do for his opponents to not see where he went after all. And all the while, the dwarf only absently registered how shadow fled from him because of how bright the stream of magic was as it gushed out of him, especially his eyes (why is it always Glowing Eyes of Doom anyway?). At least now it didn't have that degenerative effect on his muscles anymore, though the Livegiver would have probably been able to make up for it quite well. Of course, in that case, there would have been no gradual healing.
Which... would have been bad.
He ducked out of the way of a fireball and dived into that side-street. It stated off in a stairway but was just a small bit lower than the previous path. It was also a bit narrower, although that huge demon could still fit and walk, or run, comfortably enough.
Needless to say, the increasingly annoyed demon was quick to resume the chase. "What kind of fight is this?" It raged as it stomped, crushing those steps under its weight. The stab wound in his foot had become smaller, but it was still there, as was the cut in the hand. "No matter!"
Raonar felt a strange tug, so he looked back over his shoulder as he kept running down that street. He recognized that Pride was trying to telekinetically pull him back. Of course, the spell, being arcane and directly supposed to affect him, went wrong. This once, it just dissipated without any side effect, except causing his brilliant corona to pulse strangely and leave behind something akin to a bunch of floating tendrils.
Well, that and the demon being outraged at the audacity of it all.
All the while, the dwarven noble was being very, very careful where he stepped.
3.
2.
1.
Boom.
Much satisfaction swelled within the exile when he heard an explosion rocking the alley behind him, so he slid to a stop and turned his shining eyes around, to behold the demon in its confusion as the walls themselves exploded in fire, right in his face, with every step it took.
Boom.
"What!" the demon was angry, so it slammed its palm into the wall on the left and drove enough magic to shatter it to tiny pieces. This, of course, implied that it move its legs, so of course it failed to notice yet another metal wire near its foot.
As such, it was not exactly prepared for yet another explosion, precisely in the space between its back and the other, still intact, dark granite wall of the ancient building. The sound faded to an area filled with smoke and stone dust, but Raonar was at a conveniently safe distance from it all, never losing his reign over the magic he was constantly drawing through the breach he was harboring.
Pride actually stumbled out of the debris cloud, but made a point of slamming an arcane burst into that remaining wall anyway. It had visible burn signs and even gashes, from how shrapnel and stone had scraped against it and gone through even that thick crust in some places. "I will destroy you!" its rage could be felt in every syllable. "You dare use such cheap tricks!"
"Hey, don't think you can impugn my honor. The terms of the deal never said anything about traps." The light on Gorim's Sword intensified with every word. "I grew up a prankster and spent my early military career as a scout that set up traps and charges to collapse tunnels and beast lairs on a regular basis. So of course I set up some in advance. Don't bother trying to figure them out either. You might just end up caught in some while trying to avoid others." Raonar may have fallen for that trap in the carta, since he was too focused on keeping an eye on that kid, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to make these things.
Pride brought his hands together, forming a very nasty-looking fireball. "Foolish. None of this will avail you."
Not even bothering to challenge that statement, the prince's blade came up in a diagonal, sending the cutting force hurtling though the air, white in itself, at the same moment when the demon threw that fireball in his direction. He brought his shield up and bent forward, stretching his leg back, until he was almost completely covered by that targe. He even sent some magic into it. It should have been enough to keep him on his feet against any blow.
The blast of fire smashed through his guard and the physical shock sent a sharp pain all the way to his shoulder, and he flew backwards, eventually landing on his back and rolling overhead once before he slid to a stop, the silverite metal producing a dull screech as it scraped against stone. He lost hold on his spirit aura for a moment, but he was looking for something else. Finding a flask of red liquid in the pouch tied to his belt, along his right hip, he drunk it down in one sip. Feeling the pain in his arm lessen, he used it to push himself to a stand.
The reason he even had time to do all that was because the so-called attack he'd used (sending off the cutting wave from the sword) did as required, namely cut the string of another trap, along the higher part of the column that pride just 'happened' to have ended up next to, after being ever so unfortunately led there by the other fire bombs. When the string was cut, another explosion broke the upper end of that pillar, end that fell right on Pride's head.
Unfortunately, that wasn't nearly enough to keep him immobilized for long, as the beast forced the fallen building parts off itself, settling for a force blast in all directions. That blew everything away nicely, although it was obvious that the trap had done some damage. It never stopped sputtering its outrage either.
The Pride demon looked at him, blood covering half of its head. It slowly reached out o point a finger at him. For a moment, it didn't seem to do anything else.
Only when the exile sensed magic gathering behind him did he go into full battle mode and summon all the magic he could. Too late, however, as the ball of arcane force burst behind him, smashing into his back. The armor absorbed most of it, but he was still flung through the air and his lungs escaped a cry of "OH SHIT!"
He ended up covering the whole of the distance he'd been knocked back previously, only he fell on his face first this time. He still managed to hold his blade in an iron grip, but he ended up on his back, after rolling once. He felt some blood in his mouth, probably from his nose, but he ignored it.
The sight of Pride raising a foot to crush him was a more immediate concern.
The prince was able to roll aside and avoid getting stomped on. What he did not succeed in was evade it entirely. He rolled to the left, meaning that he had to place his shield up away from him, up in front. As such, Pride caught the shield underfoot, so the dwarf was forced to wriggle his arm out and abandon the targe.
Just in time too, because the thing froze over and broke into iced shards under the weight of that thing. The silverite just broke. How cold did that have to be to work anyway? But there was no time to get back to a standing position before the ice spread, across the ground and reaching his feet. "Enough running," the Fade Beast grunted, betraying a measure of internal injury.
Feeling the ice spread and the temperature drop, there was just one thing the dwarf could do in return.
He unleashed what templars brazenly dubbed a Holy Smite, from his whole body. Some men can master the templar skills through talent, others really need the lyrium. Raonar had a virtually unlimited supply of magic at all times, unruly and troublesome though it was.
A cry of rage escaped the violet demon's lungs (if it had them) and it even brought one of those arms up to shield its face. Its spell was broken and it was stunned for just as much time as the fighter needed to take off again.
Losing the shield had been a stroke of bad luck, but Raonar put it out of his mind. He wiped the blood off his face, feeling that his nosebleed had been healed already. Good old relics, they sure were handy. Even his arm was nearly bereft of pain already, although he could feel some fatigue creeping in. Calling on the Fade did give him an extra measure of endurance, but running in that suit of armor was taxing.
His senses notified him of something dangerously magical swooping in, so he thanked the Ancestors that he'd already reached the building he sought. He dived through the door just as a ball lightning breezed past him and detonated in a million of sparks and arches, crackling madly right against the wall that was about two meters ahead.
It was then that Raonar realized that he'd lost his helmet at some point, because he hit his head against a set of stairs. Thankfully, he was supercharged and regenerating fast enough to not be too badly affected by the blow. This was one of those noble estates back when the dwarves still inhabited this place. It was tall and there were two rows of columns, such was the entry hall (the estate proper was in wings on both sides, since this chamber had exists on the other two walls).
Having admired this place enough some hours earlier, he instead took note of the Pride Demon approaching from outside, so he began to slip past the things that the beast would not be able to avoid, being so huge.
Pride didn't even bother with the door, not that it would have been able to fit through, what with that form being three times its size. The wall froze over and collapsed inwards, violently, allowing a very pissed off thing to charge in, hands already shimmering with magic overload.
Right into a wall of very thick, very recently created spider webbing. Spider threads were known to be about as strong as a steel wire of the same thickness. These ones weren't overly thick, about a centimeter at most, but they were many (many, and in layers, also many), and they were new, since Alim Surana had ever so gallantly agreed to make them, while in spider form, during those times the previous 'night' when he was absent from the camp without anyone, save the prince, knowing (and it was imperative that no one knew, otherwise Pride might have read about the traps form their minds).
The demon stared at itself, mostly trapped there, in obvious surprise, and it tried to disentangle itself, to no avail. When it saw this, it snarled at the insect. "I will enjoy tearing you apart." No sooner had it said that that flames began to envelop its form, eating through the spider threads.
The dwarf noble was about five meters away, so he gathered magic on his sword and sent the slash straight at Pride's face. The wave went easily through the spider webbing. This was the sort of attack that could leave deep cuts in wood and even smaller ones in stone.
It did absolutely nothing when it hit the Demon's skin, except break off in sparse flickers.
"Oh hell." Apparently, all he'd succeeded in was cutting the webbing a bit, making Pride's eventual release a bit less... well, eventual.
The demon grinned as flames kept consuming its bonds. "Your will is not sharp enough to cut through mine, mortal. To cut me." An arm was finally free, so the thing stretched it forward. It took less than an instant for the arcane bolt to be ready, and it hurtled straight at the exile.
Gripping Gorim's sword tighter, he clenched his teeth and stabbed forward.
The projectile detonated more or less harmlessly at half the distance between them.
And a stab wound appeared in the demon's left shoulder. "Guh." The gasp was otherworldly, rage being eclipsed by bewilderment for a moment.
The prince was breathing heavily, feeling sweat on his forehead and the rest of his light-enveloped body. That had taken a toll, but it worked. "I'll just have to sharpen it a bit then, now won't I?"
The fade beast exploded in a maelstrom of fire, or at least the area around it did. Understandably furious, the creature roared.
In the process, it stretched those large arms wide, so one of those horned things on its arms made contact with one of the steel wires that had been concealed among the many spider threads. Then, Pride stepped forward, blazing, almost coming between the first two pillars that held the roof up. There were six in total.
Its other arm pulled on another wire. Another trigger.
A cacophony of metallic hisses was all the warning given before a rain of metal spikes descended from the darkness above, all of them repurposed spears, portcullis parts or other things salvaged and refashioned. Some failed to penetrate the thick crust of the creature but quite a few still were sharp enough to sink well through its hide.
Even that thing couldn't suppress a howl of pain when those metallic instruments of torment came upon it. The sound was infernal, supplemented by the dull scrape and clatter of those things that missed and hit the hard floor. The head escaped, the crust around the even harder skull withstanding everything as the horns deflected the rest. The anger churned and swirled, sending flames gushing everywhere.
So the prince took this as his cue and ran off, stopping only when he cleared the six columns, so as to pull on a last piece of string. And he pulled hard.
Explosions rocked the bases of all six pillars. By themselves, they would have done little, but the prince and Alim had spent a while 'preparing' them (ergo, making a lot of cuts and chips just waiting for the last shock to blast everything apart). Like an earthquake, a tremor went up through the architecture, columns shaking and bending, beginning a lazy fall, culminating in a large crack in the ceiling when there was nothing to support it properly any longer. The entire building moaned as it began to collapse in on itself.
"You... you MAGGOT!" the demon bellowed as the building came crashing down around and upon it. It tried to break free, but it hadn't escaped the spider snare.
Raonar just stood straight, his brilliant vestment of energy looking calm even in that scene. He said nothing, but locked his eyes, irises invisible under the white torrent, with those dark ones before he whirled around and made a run for it, leaving sparse magic like falling, white leaves behind. He even cut wildly in a seemingly random direction. Needless to say, there was yet another trap trigger there, one that caused another couple of explosions to detonate just after he jumped out the door of the collapsing construction.
The entrance came down behind him, hurling dust and debris outward.
The noises of a large building falling down on top of a very, very pissed off Pride demon followed him as he dragged his feet away, back in the direction of the others. He decided to stop and rest a bit though, just a couple of streets away. The fact that there was a dull ache in his legs and left arm didn't really help with his recovery, but the artefacts were healing him as well as ever, safely hidden under his gauntlets.
Rumble.
Ah, and that was the noise of everything crashing down completely.
Pushing himself to his feet, the dwarven noble looked back and saw a large cloud of dust and ash hovering high enough to be visible even over those ruined Thaig dwellings he had passed in his retreat from that place. He probably should have felt a bit ashamed at actually contributing to the destruction of what was once the home of his people, but eh.
The wall just ten meters ahead blasted open.
The sea of debris seemed to have extended even there, coming forth like a tide, and the demon emerged from it, bloodied, one horn ripped from its skull and with some metal torture devices still sticking out of its back. Blood dripped from many gashes, but the thing was fast, and enraged, the eyes on the right side of its face smashed beyond use. It paid no mind at the blood sprouting from its many injuries and used its right arm, now bereft of that horn-like protrusion, to reach behind and pull out those rusted metal things, one by one clattering dully away. Then. it roared incoherently.
But it was no rage demon to lose its wits, even when faced with such insolence. Injury was just a temporary inconvenience for one such as him, so it was not deterred when the exile jumped away purely on instinct. Instead, it sent a wave of force straight at him, while he was still airborne, smashing him away and into a wall. His sword finally left his grasp and clattered uselessly.
Raonar was dazed. He'd hit his head against the stone a bit hard, being without a helmet now, and was holding his arms between his face and the dusty ground. Blearily, he looked around, trying to locate his weapon.
"Looking for this, are you?" Pride had a somewhat thicker voice now, having suffered some internal injury, but he still sounded smug. "Are you saying you've finally exhausted your pitiful traps?" It had the dwarven sword float to his eye level and it tapped one of those claws against its pommel a few times. "Here, have it back then. You claimed you'd fight me, so fight." Gorim's sword was thrown back at the dwarf, hissing as the red steel slid on that broken stone alley.
Not having any other options, the fighter picked it up and drew on as much magic as he could. That thing was battered badly. All the same, he noticed an alertness in his own heart rate and breathing, something that signaled anxiousness. He instantly quelled it. This was a time to be calm, his will had to be sharp. He did feel thankful for the adrenaline rush though.
Having come to be within five meters of that thing once more, the exile roared with effort and sent the strongest cut he could manage. He charged the weapon and brought it up.
Blood sprouted from a new slash across the creature's front, going from the waist up to the left shoulder, but the beast just laughed. Pride laughed as he brought it arms overhead and began giving form to ice. A shaft appeared, then grew, and grew until it took the shape of a glaive. And as the laughter continued, the glaive came down.
It was probably the first time a beast of that caliber struck so viciously and yet had its blow parried. Well, not parried, it got its weapon cut where it hit the blade really. The laughter never subsided.
Raonar finally realized why, when he saw the rune of frost on the pommel of Gorim's blade, and he lost track of things for a moment, not noticing how the part of the conjured polearm he'd just cut shattered against the ground.
He looked back at the demon too late to do anything but take a thrust of the remaining shaft straight to the chest. The armor held, bless the Ancestors, but he was still pinned against the wall, hearing something sizzle as another rune was etched, into his cuirass this time.
With one last effort, he brought his sword to bear, even as frost began to overtake it, and managed to cut another piece of what was now a staff. Freed, he released a blast from his feet and bolted in the direction where the others should be, unheeding of the white trail he left through the air. That thing was getting serious, proven by how an arcane blast broke upon a ruined column right after he dashed past it. The dwarf no longer paid attention to just how much of a white magic corona he had around himself, though it was probably more intense than ever.
That bastard was exploiting his disadvantage. It had put a frost rune, something that is usually beneficial, on his sword, knowing that it would become overcharged because of how magic poured out of him, and now the blade was frosting over and going cold and brittle, even though it was wrought of red steel. And it looked like he got landed with a similar rune on his armor, when that shaft smashed into him, as the chill spreading from his chest and into his arms could well attest.
The wall ahead burst apart.
Barely coming to a stop, the dwarf tried to jump back, but only managed a backstep before his instincts took over and he raised the sword to block a very strong, straightforward chop with that ice shaft.
Gorim's Blade shattered.
The shaft slammed into his left shoulder, breaking the shoulder guard that had also frosted over. The collar bone was rent in half with an audible crack. "Guh!" He managed to catch himself before he fell to his knees, and he blasted the ground away, jumping as far away from that thing as possible.
He didn't manage to stand a second time. He fell to one knee, holding himself up with his right arm, the hand firmly around the hilt of that broken weapon. "You broke Gorim's sword..." His voice was faint.
"Ah, too bad," the voice wasn't getting any clearer, but Pride still sounded pleased. "You want me to give you power when you can't even control the one you already have? You should learn proper respect, insect."
Raonar did hear him, but he was more concerned with something else when he glared at that creature and pushed himself to stand. "You broke Gorim's sword..."
"Indeed." With a motion of his right arm, the Pride Demon sent a stone missile straight at his injured opponent, along with a few smaller ones.
The prince brought his arm in a cross guard in front of his face, shielding it from the smaller stones, but the big one caught him square in the chest. The noise of broken metal filled his hears as the cuirass broke apart, having been so completely frozen that it failed to withstand the impact. He was sent flying, and as he rolled and stumbled, the bracers broke apart as well, as did his elbow guards and remaining pauldron. His greaves, thankfully remained in serviceable condition, as did his gauntlets. At least he didn't have to worry about freezing to death now.
Coincidentally, the blow sent him hurtling far enough that he slid out the alley, into the open, ending up lying on his face in view of where all the others were held.
"-. .-"
"Shit!" Predictably, it was the brand that snapped first, pushing both palms against the forcefield. He'd indented to try and stab his daggers into it earlier, but Alim's... explanation... left them all suitably baffled. "Where's his armor? And his sword?" He turned, glaring at Alim again. "You! You knew this would happen!"
Alim had a look that said "Well duh!" but what he actually said was: "Please, of course he can't defeat a demon of Pride on his own, especially with all those issues he has with magic. What do you think he is? I did just explained everything, didn't I?"
Pride stomped out into view again, near the open space next to the natural, cavern-like wall that was the border of that ancient Thaig. It was... a real mess actually.
"Whoa," Alistair breathed out in awe. "That thing looks... well, great! I mean bad..."
"Sodding ancestors," Oghren muttered. "That thing survived a building crashing on top of it?"
"Barely," Gwen said levelly, resting her right hand on the end of the hilt of her greatsword Yusaris. The sword was being balance on its tip. "Raonar doesn't look too good though. Wynne, can you do anything from here?"
"I might be able to-"
"No." Alim cut in firmly, warranting everyone's looks. "We already talked about this. Besides, it shouldn't take long now." He gripped his staff tight. "Just about now. He should..." He trailed off when he saw the guy push himself to stand. "Wait... this isn't according to plan..."
"Wonderful!" Kallian huffed and threw her arms up in annoyance. "Now what is he doing?"
Alim said nothing, but a scowl finally made its way into that look of his that had not changed from passive contemplation since the beginning. Then, the exile was heard speaking, and the words had an immediate effect on a certain castless dwarf and the black magician himself, as they both spoke in unison.
"Oh boy."
"-. .-"
Raonar didn't pay attention to whether they were gasping in horror or not. He just pushed himself up, realizing that he'd sprained his left wrist. No matter, he didn't need that hand for what he was about to do.
Once the dwarf was finally more or less standing, though his head was bowed, Pride strode out into the open, in all its battered, bloody glory. They were about two hundred meters way form where the red orb of their deal was still floating. The exile could sense the smirk on what was left of its face, though it was probably healing, albeit slowly. Very slowly.
The dwarf exhaled and brought his right hand to his chest and held it there, feeling the familiar sensation. He hadn't originally planned to go so far, but what that bastard had done had succeeded in warranting a nice bout of retribution, even if it was to be only brief.
The rush of magic filled him as his 'special reserve' came forth. He felt his sprained wrist mending and the muscles around his broken clavicle knitting back together. The bone itself would heal soon enough. And just like that, magic flared around him again, and he straightened, brought his sword arm, now free, up to his eye level as a sphere of white light appeared above the open palm.
Things were going to get serious. After all, that thing did not grasp the enormity of the crime it had just committed, and was even about to blast him with a serious case of infernal flames in a few moments. Still, it was the exile's duty to remedy that demon's unfortunate oversight. After all...
"You. Broke. Gorim's. Sword."
The sphere of focused magical power, gathered during weeks of meditation, was crushed in his grasp the instant flames began to rain down upon him and around him, until a veritable maelstrom of heat and fire, like a tornado of sorts, took form and began to blast and burn everything.
Pride was standing just three meters outside the area of effect, delighting in the rumbling and the noise of stones as they broke because of the sudden change in temperature. The image was blurred due to how the heat messed with the light, and little could be seen in that inferno.
Then, a hole appeared in the flaming twister, for an instant, and something, looking dangerously similar to a certain Spirit of the Fade that had completely trounced him in the past, cloaked in light and gushing raw magic in all directions, emerged, right in front of it. The beast's still functional eyes failed to react in time to how that thing had just emerged, airborne, at its eye level.
Swiping kicks were out of the question, since the force the dwarf used could easily surpass what muscle and bone was made for, possibly leaving him with horridly broken and torn legs. This was also the first time he ever really used this, having never even practiced this particular form. As such, direct thrusts were all he could afford while hoping his body wouldn't break down form being so abused.
The Prince of Orzammar smashed his silverite armored, right heel straight into Pride's face, precisely where the nose would have been. The energy outpour exploded from his foot in a circle, and so did the air surge away from him with a roar, like thunder, blasting the demon violently, causing its head to jerk back, mightily enough that the thing lost its balance and barely moved its foot to prevent a fall. "Guuooh!"
Being bent backwards, the beast's chest was held almost horizontally, for a short time, perfect as a landing place for the exile. The moment he was on top of that thing, a sharp pain cut through his ankle, signaling that the might of the attack had been too much to bear, leaving it sprained, even with the armored boot to act as a buffer. With an act of will, the dwarf ignored the pain, flaring white as his aura made him look like something out of a dream, white tendrils, strands, some even a meter and a half in length, gliding harmoniously everywhere, contrasting with the raging fire storm he had jumped out from. His dwarven form was just vaguely distinguishable, but no color was in sight, nor shadow. He needed to act fast, exploit every instant, so he stretched the fingers of his right hand, force gathering, sharpening that gauntlet.
The second of shock passed, remnants of that blast fading, and Pride tried to restore its balance, but only felt something pierce through its chest, right in the middle, painfully, and it just had to choke. The dwarf had driven his hand up to the wrist, through the crust and flesh and bone. Too bad for demons that they actually had to have anatomy in order to exist in the physical world without a host.
On reflex, Pride pushed itself forward, looking down, just in time for that being of light to ram its other foot into its chin, having used the leverage, gained when he drove that hand-thrust into it, to hurl his legs forward, another burst of power doing the rest. The blast was a bit stronger, strong enough to finish what the first started and knock it out of balance completely.
The ground itself was smashed when the Fade beast collapsed on its back, still with that nearly formless specter on top of it. Its head fell a bit wrong, right on the remaining horn, which was actually moved in its socket under the thing's own weight. The cloud of dust wasn't as thick as the previous ones, but it may have been because the exile released a burst of his own when he lunged forward, stepping unceremoniously on what were good eyes before a certain estate came crashing down.
Another time, the area was rocked by a foot-projected explosion, right in Pride's face. it didn't do much damage, but it did daze it and left it grunting long enough for the exile to stoop forward and grab that horn with both hands.
His ankles still hurt, as did the collar bone, but they were healing, not very fast, but fast enough, so he gnashed his teeth and ignored the pain as he pulled on that horn with all his might, guiding some of those strands to grind through the crust and whatever flesh held it in place. His right and left feet were pushing against the demon's throat and face, respectively. This all happened in the span of seconds.
A cry of pain and exertion left his lungs and, just before the demon got enough of its bearings back to realize what was happening, the solid appendage was ripped away from its skull with a sickening crunch.
Pride screamed, more in disbelief than physical torment, and that only meant that its mouth was open when the exile raised that horn above his head, making his intentions more than clear. There was no shadow, no color, just brilliance, save for that horn, now held like a knife, ready to come down.
And it did.
It went through its mouth, and the prince felt it pierce flesh and crush bone as it went deeper, the sound of torn sinews resounding over even the humm produced by this form.
Pride bit on it, stopping the dangerous advance.
The ground on both sides of its fallen frame was pierced by fingers that extended in claws, and the beast spat its word through clenched, razor-sharp teeth. "You WORM!" The teeth crushed the horn under their strength and it had to but will it for a wall of force to slam the gnat head-on. Another one sent the dwarf and his damnable radiance hurtling away. "How DARE you!" its voice was hoarse. To think the inside of its mouth and throat would be so seriously hurt by one of its own body parts! Even before it got back to its feet and spat the horn's tip out, Pride howled and caused the ground to be overtaken by tremors.
As it happened, Raonar had been thrown in the direction of what had once been a dwelling. he landed wrong, since his sprained ankles didn't agree with him, which only made it worse when the earthquake reached him. On the flip side, since he had no armor encumbering his upper body, just a now torn shirt, he did a sort of cartwheel, landing on his knees, the metal of his greaves absorbing most of the pain he would have otherwise felt. Still, that failed to get him outside the area of the rumbling earth.
Pride noticed the gnat squirming, so it brought its battered left arm around in a semicircle, sending a wave of wind, an outright buffet, smashing into him. With the prince unbalanced by the earthquake, the blast was enough to send him flying until he smashed with a gasp into the wall of the ancient house. But it was not finished. It swiped forward, releasing a cone of cold that instantly froze the area over, even causing some ice spikes and icicles to form, accompanied that that familiar, subtle crackling sound of frostbite.
It saw that white nimbus starting to retreat and fade to a dull shimmer around the dwarf's body when the ice reached him, leaving his eyes as the only remaining light source. Spurred, Pride then brought its palms together and used all the blood sprouting from his many injuries to charge up a fireball.
The resulting explosion was most satisfying, as was the look on the mortal's face when it saw there was no avoiding it, nor the latest of many dust clouds that filled the place. The noise had been nearly deafening, and the force powerful enough to cause the wall to crumble to pieces.
Pride just looked upon the destruction for some seconds, unable to see through the haze it itself had created. Its breathing was hard, blood was gushing from almost every part in his body, especially his horn sockets and the hole in its chest wasn't helping either. Not to mention that the inside of its throat had been partially mangled. But it had made no difference in the end. No mortal could ever truly hope to face a demon of his might and win.
And the strange hissing sound coming from ahead, as well as the strange way the dust was beginning to spin obviously meant nothing at all.
Wait, what?
Before it could react properly, the dwarf had somehow already launched himself out of the dust brume. It jumped fast and high, until he was once again at eye level with it. He looked tired, sweaty. What looked like an ethereal armor, probably what had saved him, faded out of existence, and his eyes were the only part of him still shinning with inner light. His left hand was in front of him, for balance, as though he was getting ready to deliver a punch with his right one. There was just one thing wrong with that whole setup, and it wasn't the look of utter concentration on his face.
His right hand was holding onto what looked like a palm-sized ball of energy, vaguely blueish, spiraling under his intent, compressed to the limit, this somehow only accelerating the movement. The spiraling sphere hummed menacingly. Pride actually picked up on it in a single instant.
The dwarf released a guttural yell, and his strained gauntlet crumbled under the strain of that technique as he thrust that palm forward. Pride just barely brought his arms together in a cross guard, right forearm over the other, to shield his chest. The atmosphere around them shrilled as contact was made, and even the forcefield the beast tried to summon failed to hold the sphere at bay. The exiled prince smashed through it, sickly slowly, and carved, ate straight through the demon's forearm. Some of the magic leaked like torrents in every possible direction.
Pride glared and snarled at the gnat that was glaring in turn, putting everything he had left in this last move. And all the while, all the demon did was wish it had put the other arm in front, which still had that overgrowth of bone in place. It might have managed to withstand better.
A gruff, hoarse cry of pain escaped that monster's chest as it staggered backward upon the resulting explosion. It did not retain completion as it did so, however, because that right forearm crashed to the floor in a pool of blood. "Uuurgh," Pride clutched a where the rest of its arm once was, blood dripping, flowing freely like a cascade from it. "How in the...?" That had never happened before.
The beast realized it had just been partially dismembered and that it might have even died if that thing had sunk and exploded inside its torso.
This kind of pain was foreign. And with it came anger, such rage as the eyes that still worked settled on the battered, tired frame of that exile, utterly drained if the lack of all light was any indication. "Oh, now you've done it."
The prince attempted to stand, but failed under the general pain. Pride would have enjoyed his torment if its own state of health wasn't this severe. "End of the line, dwarf." It took just one step forward, meaning that it was about six meters away from that warrior, and released the hold on its severed arm. Its blood stopped falling. Instead, it flowed and floated over to the left one, gathering around the wrist. Then, without even outstretching it, it twisted its palm around, facing the man.
A sharp spike, made of Pride's own blood, grew out of the middle of that palm and shot forward, aiming to impale the prince.
And impale him it did.
Managing just a weak attempt at side-stepping, the fighter caught the blood spear in the right side. "Guoh..." It tore through his muscles and bones and came out through his back, piercing the ribs on the lower, left side of his rib cage, along with the lung and everything else. The gnat choked on his own blood. It was a wonderful sound.
The demon held the spike in place for a while, enjoying the mortal's heaving breaths, the shock strewn over his face. "I will admit that you were intriguing," it said smugly, secretly cursing its voice for sounding so mangled even now. Frustrated, it had the spike retreat instantly, causing its enemy another wave of agony.
It watched as the prince fell to his knees, still gasping, blood finally starting to pour out of his side. The demon enjoyed the scene, absently summoning some frost to insulate the place where its right forearm once was. He'd have to regrow it later, or stick it back into place. Now, he could spare some time on watching the last of that dwarf's life leak from him. So he looked at how the mortal reached a shaky hand into his pant pocket and took out a cloth of some kind.
The exile coughed out blood and heaved. He glanced tiredly at that demon one last time before he brought the cloth, in a trembling hand, to his face, over his mouth and nose as he coughed some more. Pride actually thought something new might happen, but whatever worries it had faded when the man's eyes glossed over and closed.
So it was that the mortal responsible for his downfall at the hands of that Spirit, years before, fell to the ground, motionless, in a pool of blood that was slowly spreading.
Fitting.
Perhaps some healing was in order now, Pride thought. It would be easy, just going over there and draining the life force to heal his wounds. The mortal was still alive, it could sense that much, and it would have been convenient as well. Of course, there wouldn't be enough to regrow the arm. Maybe reattach it? Deciding this was a reasonable course of action, the creature walked, slowly (it was wounded in many places after all) to where the limb had ended up. After retrieving it, it went over to where the puny one was now lying. Ah yes, just a few more steps and...
Pride gasped in surprise when an arrow embedded itself in his back, but the real shocker was that same arrow exploding on impact. "Guargh!" On alert, it looked back and spotted that red-haired woman, just as she shot another arrow, which sunk into its shoulder. "What? How!" Confused, Pride looked to where the others were supposed to be, seeing his magical safeguards gone. Then, he looked at where the altar once was.
The red orb it had prepared was still there. "Impossible!" The fade dweller didn't register when it had let its severed arm fall back to the ground.
It didn't get the chance to spot the others before a hand, brilliant blue, appeared and clawed through flesh and bone from shoulder to hip. The assault faded as soon as it struck. It left no real injury, but the pain had been and still was very real. Then, just like before, the hand appeared, on the other side, and clawed through its body again, and again.
The demon got used to it quickly, but Alim's attack had done its job. It had kept it disoriented long enough for the others to close the distance or slip out of sight, as it became painfully obvious when there were two flasks of strange liquid in the air overhead. Two arrows, sent with Dalish precision, flew and shattered them, so the liquid inside rained down upon the violet, bloody beast, at once eating through the bone and flesh on its head, back and shoulders. "Huoh! What! Guah!"
"I call it napalm," Zevran said from behind it, tossing another of those things straight at its back before smashing a smoke vial against the ground and using that cover to escape into the cloud of dust that had been created earlier.
Pride roared and caused a wall of ice spikes to sprout in the Antivan's direction, but no one was there anymore. Where were those insects? And how had they escaped unnoticed? He spotted Leliana and Theron far off, along with the three mages and those human fighters. Wait, three mages? There was another woman there, robed, with dark hair, mostly concealed under a scarlet hood. "Treachery!" It snarled. This could not have happened. It was impossible, they should not have managed to escape without triggering the spells, not to mention destroying the orb. What had happened? Did that gnat do something?
Hateful, it looked where the dwarf was. Well, used to be, since he wasn't there anymore. All that was left was the blood on the ground. "What? Where...?" Sten had long since grabbed him and bolted, along with that dwarven rogue. When had they gotten so close? Ah, the qunari was barefoot. That explained the lack of noise. Shale was in the distance, apparently waiting for them. The dogs and wolf were there as well for some reason. Fortunately, Pride's ears still worked so it heard Gwen and Alistair rushing towards him. It was able to face them in time, but Gwen had a worrisomely golden aura surrounding her.
Well, Wynne did have a variety of spells that could enhance battle prowess.
Very much.
"Irrelevant."
Lunging its remaining hand forward, Pride smashed the woman with pure force, sending her tumbling backwards. To his credit, Alistair glanced in her direction only briefly, enough to see Wynne's healing magic, like a blue mist, envelop her. Pride tried the same on him, but the spell was resisted, so the Templar wearing the armor of the Divine Will was able to get close enough to slice its knee with Duncan's Sword. Pride wanted to crush him, but an arrow hit the left shoulder and detonated again. How were they doing that anyway? What was that Dalish hunter using?
If directness didn't work, brute force would, so the demon telekinetically lifted a broken stone slab and tried to send it into the human warrior. Strangely, Morrigan, of all people, had been on to the idea and smashed that stone missile with lightning, causing it to break into pieces. Then, another lighting strike came, from Alim this time, directly into the hole that Raonar had left in the creature's chest.
Ortan Thaig witnessed a Pride Demon screaming in agony.
And Kallian Tabris had made its way just behind the creature, perfectly close to drive her sword right into the back of the demon's right knee, just as Oghren hacked at the other leg with his axe.
And just like that, Gwenith Cousland, having recovered from being blasted away, closed the distance and, using all the extra strength given by Wynne's spell, jumped high, Yusaris in hand. The greatsword went deep through where the sternum would be, and she pushed it further, deeper, all the way to the hilt before she viciously twisted it, spraying blood over herself but not taking heed of it even as the spasming monster lost balance and fell once more. The huge creature ended up sprawled across the ground, twitching. It gurgled as Gwen pulled her bloodied weapon out and hopped off the defeated fade dweller.
Pride spat, no, vomited blood to the side. "H-How? Im... Impossible..."
"Merely improbable actually." Yes, the black magician was right there, in front of his fallen shell. He had his staff in his hand and began to walk around it, towards the head. Alim stopped when he was towering over Pride's face from behind, completing the circle made by Alistair, Gwen, Oghren and Kallian. "This is probably the point where I explain your folly. But you know what? I am a sadistic demon hater. So I'll just say one thing..."
"..."
"You lose." Alim raised the staff above Pride's gaping mouth. Then, the low end of the staff, sharpened through spellpower, came down and went right through flesh and bone, coming out the other side and embedding into the earth underneath the shocked, battered visage of that creature.
Silence.
"-. .-"
What had just happened?
Demon blood was pouring out, mixing with dust and rubble and earth.
What had just happened?
"Impossible."
The Demon's five slayers continued to stand around it as its twitching frame lost all motion, little by little.
"Impossible! It was impossible!"
Anger began to overtake the creature's fading consciousness.
"It should have been impossible for them to escape without cancelling the agreement!"
Rage began to project through the expanding pool of blood, mixing with it, becoming one with the foundation of the earth it was now sprawled over.
"Trickery! Deception! It was a fair deal! How dare they!"
Identity could change. It was all a choice for beings like them. A choice was all that stood at the basis of what defined a creature of that kind, be it desire, sloth, hunger, despair, fear, pride or...
Rage.
There was only unadulterated rage.
Enough of it to push everything aside.
"-. .-"
Sten would have liked to get farther away from where the fight had taken place, after he picked Raonar up off the ground, but he couldn't afford another moment's delay. The injury was too severe. Fortunately, they weren't in any danger anymore, so he made a turn and laid his kadan down, gently, behind a ruin of a house wall, doing his best to kick most pebbles and rocks out of the way first. Faren kept up easily, always looking back, and Shale took to standing just out of the way, looking back at what the others were doing.
Once the exile was on the ground, gasping in unconscious agony, Faren ran over to the other side and knelt quickly, the cloth form Alim held tight in his grip.. "Dammit! This is worse than ever."
Sten ripped the white haired-one's shirt apart and applied pressure to the wound, using his other hand to take out a balm, the strongest they had with them. Rinne was there too, traipsing about, whining in concern for her master and likely cursing, in Mabari terms, the fact that healing spells just didn't work on him. It was that whining that prevented the qunari and redhead from hearing the faint rumbling noises.
Damon and Anor, that elf's wolf, were snarling at something from where they were, next to the golem, having been ordered by their masters to take up guard duty. Then, Shale actually said something by her own initiative, and it wasn't good news. "What in bird's name is happening there!"
"-. .-"
He should have sensed it sooner. He should have sensed it, but it came too fast, even for a blood mage of his caliber. Pride had stopped moving at last and they had all made to leave, to rush and see what they could do for the Warden Commander when the elf sensed a wave of fury breezing through everything, its origin right in that demon's corpse.
Then, the ground began shaking, powerfully, the tremors rising in intensity gradually, warranting confused looks from Alistair, Oghren, Gwen and Kallian alike. Even Wynne, who was still not near there, began to slow down and her expression changed to a wide-eyed one as her staff came in front.
Alim Surana whirled around, placing his staff between him and the new threat, or the old one, now changed into something even more formidable, though the first thing he saw was something akin to pale, red misty flames gushing out of the fallen creature. The unholy light arched and bent, sinking into the earth itself or spreading over to the debris littering that place.
So silence was bad.
"Move!" On pure instinct, the mage released a wave of force in an explosion around him, sending everyone, save Alistair, whose magic resistance kicked in, well away, in time to avoid getting struck by rocks that just burst out from underground. The templar was able to get away with a glancing hit, having stepped aside by sheer luck. Those affected fell rather painfully, having been taken totally by surprise.
The rocks continued to fly, only away from them, as if they were all gathering together, drawn close by a red specter. A vague shape coalesced there, fusing with the rocks as poor imitations of legs and arms came together as extensions of what looked like an astral, ghostly endoskeleton. Finally, a more or less rounded boulder came up on top, and it became enveloped in a red flame, as if it was a head, on fire. A burst of power even damaged it, leaving behind something akin to an eye socket, glowing malevolently. It towered about four meters in height.
It was not a real voice that bellowed, but bellow it did, at the space above and around it, one mighty shockwave cracking the air and the ground beneath its feet. Whatever dust was in the area was blown away, and as the walls came apart to add to that new being, Zevran's cover was broken and he scampered away and towards the others. "Brasca!"
"What in Maker's name is that?" Alistair gasped. He had the helmet Duty, a Grey Warden, Griffon helm, covering his face entirely, and still his awe, mixed with some shred of fear, was obvious.
Alim had to pass on actually saying he didn't know in favor of something more useful. "Take cover!" He actually used his magic to telekinetically push Kallian away and behind a wall patch before he dived to the side, much like Alistair himself did.
That saved them from a crack in the earth that sent the ground bursting upwards, leaving a sort of trench behind. The rock monster then disassembled by its own will and flew towards them like a cloud of solid death, coming down in a rain of boulders right where they used to be standing.
"SHALE!" Alim roared from the top of his lungs as he jumped to his feet even before Alistair did, what with his massive armor. "GET OVER HERE! NOW!" Once he was standing again, he noticed that Oghren was close enough. To his credit, the dwarf didn't look too terrified to fight, but he was gaping. "Wynne!" the elf called out.
"Here!" she was running towards them.
"Stay far!" Surana ordered. "Cast the strongest regeneration you have on Oghren!" Not even waiting to see if she heard him, he brandished his own staff in the dwarf's direction, murmuring a spell of his own. The fighter was enveloped in a faint, blue aura the same moment when his greataxe was enveloped by some sort of force. "Oghren! Go and chop at that thing!" Turning to Alistair, he focused and had Duncan's sword become enveloped by the same telekinetic field. "You too Alistair!"
"Sodding crazies!" the dwarf shouted back, attacking anyway. He was taking things in stride fairly well, all things considered.
"On it!" the templar followed, charging.
"Morrigan, try and wear that thing down!"
Soon after those words were spoken, something akin to man-sized, blue, shimmering hands of light began to appear and claw at the thing, here and there, again and again. By the shrill breaking through the wretched hum coming out of that monster, it seemed to have some effect, although small.
By then, the rocks had already reformed in the shape of that vaguely humanoid rock creature and its limbs were veritable twisters of stone and dust. It tried to stomp on Gwen, who was closest, but she jumped to the side and, with Wynne's heroic aura still filling her, chopped at that rock leg and managed to get Yusaris to cut clean through even stone.
A backhand, however, caught her square, and she flew back, hitting the ground hard, with her back. Then, when Alistair managed to cleave through its other leg, and when Oghren actually swung his axe in a wide enough arc that one of the large boulders that made up its chest was rent asunder, the thing burst with force. Alistair managed to keep standing, though he staggered back, but Oghren hadn't regained his footing, so he ended up tumbling back.
The demon, or whatever it was now, a being of rage and vengeance, slapped its so-called palms together and released a sort of projectile, but Alim was able to surround the dwarf in a forcefield before he was hit. The elf saw Zevran sneaking around but not approaching, realizing that his small knives would not be any use and he would just be a liability. Kallian was some way to the right, having come out from where she'd ended up.
Then, the rock beast was slammed with a loud crunch and rumble by a boulder that impacted it straight in that large, shoulder-like piece of granite. Both Shale's projectile and said rock body part crumbled, and the odd creature wavered for a moment, just when another arm-like staff blast form Morrigan came up from the ground and passed through everything solid and dealing damage at the spirit level.
The thing's integrity was finally torn down by one of Theron's last explosive arrows. They had small fire enchantments, and small pouches of lyrium sand near the heads. Alim has assisted in their making.
The arrow exploded precisely in that so-called eye socket.
"-. .-"
"That demon is not through. It became something, a creature of rock and hate. Foul magic is at work here," Sten said. He had taken to surveying the area while Faren scrambled to apply a painkilling, healing balm to that gaping hole. Still, they both knew that would do little. Their real task was different.
Apparently fighting off his panic down, the brand brought that piece of cloth, thick with rousing salts, over Raonar's face. "Come on." He held it there. "Come on man, come on." Sten noticed his voice was strained and wondered if he himself ever sounded like that. "Come on man, come out of it..."
There was a gasp.
Rinne immediately produced a yelp of happiness when her master woke up.
"Guh..." he coughed and heaved, several times, so Faren put more pressure on the wound. Sten rushed over to hold him still, but the exile immediately cringed and went solid still, eyes closed. The qunari would have thought he'd either gone back unconscious or, Qun forbid, died, of not for the fact that his entire body lit up as magic began to course through him.
Then, an arm grabbed Faren by the wrist, and two, white eyes locked on two other, staring intently. "T-The... orb... and Wynne... bring them... here..."
Exchanging a look with the giant, Faren almost leapt over him. He rushed around him, aiming to leave cover, but was stopped when Damon and Anor both pounced him at once. "Whoa!" he stumbled back and only avoided a total fall because his back hit Sten's.
Any questions he might have had were answered by a hurricane of sharp, long, blue, shining needles that filled the air above where they were hidden, the noises akin to a swarm of deep stalkers on the hunt.
"-. .-"
Alim knew it would have been too good to be true if that last arrow had brought the creature down. For once, he wished he'd been wrong. Upon being blasted by that fire, the demon, or whatever it was now, again burst apart and flew off, coming back together at half the distance between him and the spot where the archers, those being Leliana and Theron, were standing. The spot it chose placed it fairly close to Morrigan as well. This once, however, it came together in a ball that began to shake as though it were a moon rocked by tremors.
The moment it lunged in all directions, roaring inhumanly as it looked like a man raging against the heavens, a rain of blue spikes, long and sharp, began to pour out in every possible path. Alim just barely saw the Dalish and the chantry sister throw themselves to the ground, face-down, and he did all he could and willed a sphere of force around him. The shower rattled and sizzled against it, and he could feel the continuously building pressure, straining him.
He saw Morrigan out of the corner of his right eye, turning into swarm of wasps. Alistair, on his left, had slid his leg far back and was almost completely protected by Duncan's shield now, and those many spiked were breaking off of it without leaving even a dent. Either Alistair's magic resistance was working better than expected or that shield was too strong for words, or both.
The elf would have checked for everyone else, but he felt his concentration pushed. He'd really overused his telekinesis recently. He suppressed a wince and clenched his teeth when the first of those things passed though his force field and made a cut on his forearm. So he gnashed his teeth and hoped he would last long enough, shutting his eyes in exertion, barely hearing anything besides that assault.
Along with some heavy stomping.
Then, suddenly, the pressure was gone, and he actually stumbled forward because of the surprise. Catching himself, he looked up and saw the back of a Golem. Shale was there, having spread its arms around to make as large a buffer it could with its body. "Nothing we do appears to be working," she said in her monotone. "It should think of a way to kill it dead."
The rain of needles began to die down. "Alright guys, get ready to charge that thing again." Alim pushed his magic again and had a telekinetic field appear over Gwen's sword as well. "Zevran, Kallian, stay in cover. Leliana, Theron, you too, unless you have any more explosive arrows." He spotted Wynne as she used healing on herself. Meanwhile, the wasp swarm flew over and retook human form behind Shale as well.
Then, the elf almost jumped, for just as the warriors ran off to begin hacking that thing apart, he felt someone putting a hand on his shoulder.
He jerked around and almost bashed his staff against Faren's face. "Gods man, where did you come from?"
"Look, I need to be quick." The rogue went straight to business. "I need to borrow Morrigan and Shale for a minute."
"You need to borrow me..." Morrigan sounded confused.
Alim briefly listened to the noises of stone getting hacked apart by various, telekinetically-sharpened weapons before responding. "What for?"
Faren pointed far off, where that orb was still hovering in the air. "I need to get that. And I'll need Wynne too."
That immediately convinced him. "Alright. Make it quick then." The elf stepped out from behind the large golem and focused slightly. A wave of his hand was all it took to have the rock armor grow around him, over his clothes. "Shale, Morrigan, go." What he did next was drink a lyrium potion and decide to summon a particularly potent blizzard.
A blue mist enveloped him as he pushed his spell might as high as he could.
The air cracked and he sent it the magical charge. It raced and crashed against the rock demon's so-called chest, busting apart and giving birth to a maelstrom of ice and wind. Hopefully Gwen would take it well, since Alistair had high resistance, enhanced by his armor set, and Oghren was a dwarf. Either way, frost began to form on the many flying boulders.
Not turning around, Alim approached the spot where Kallian was taking cover. He could see she was frustrated. "Kallian." As he spoke the next words, he used the sharp nails on his middle and ring fingers to draw blood out of his right palm. And when he brought it up at chest-level, the blood gathered in a single, solid bead, in the air, looking suspiciously similar to a seed. "I need you to do something for me."
"-. .-"
It was thanks to the relentlessness of those guys hacking at the thing that they were able to reach the spot where the dais once was without drawing the monster's ire. Morrigan had grasped the idea well enough and had already turned into a spider and crawled up the walls to start her weaving. All that remained was one final step.
Faren took off his cloak and turned to behold the golem. "Toss me."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I can't jump that far so I want you to toss me," "Though I hate the idea. A lot."
"... As it wishes."
Faren held up a hand. "Wait... don't tell the Antivan."
Shale was probably amused by his pleading look. "Not a word."
Once he was in position, the golem grabbed him well by the back of his armor and flung him straight at the red sphere. Once airborne, the dwarf vaulted and spread the cloak wide, and when he finally did reach that thing, he was able to gather the garment like a sort of bag around the magically-created object. He didn't know what would happen if he directly touched it, and he didn't want to find out.
Still in momentum, the brand eventually reached the higher wall that was still standing, some distance away. Shale could really throw. Thankfully, Morrigan had lived up to her reputation and created a very nice set of webbing that he was able to grab onto. Thus it was that an unnaturally large webbing saved him from an uncontrolled fall. He grabbed firmly onto it with his free, left hand.
Zing.
The threads broke in his grasp.
"Wha!" the ground was coming at him fast. Like, really fast. "OH SHI-" His cry of shock was cut off when he felt something grab him by the legs. So when he looked back up, his eyes met those red ones of a giant spider, dangling upside down, as spiders are known to do. It looked.. smug. Had she done it on purpose? "Very funny..."
Before long he was back on the ground, and things would have been just fine if the rock beast would have not decided to totally shift its attention towards them. The magic from that thing swelled and it came flying with a vengeance straight at them. "Great."
"-. .-"
"It should be around here," Kallian said. Unfortunately, so much rubble had been thrown around, and big rocks, that the corpse of that Pride demon had been completely covered, with just some fingers sticking out in one spot. The battle had moved away but the rumble could still be heard, and the malice felt.
"Stand back then, my dear." Zevran Arainai produced a flask of orange liquid that seemed to glow with an inner light. "This should clear the debris for us." He went and stuck the phial deep before walking away, at a good angle for a throwing knife.
Once the knife shattered the flask, a very satisfying explosion definitely cleared the area, leaving Pride's so-called corpse right there. "So... Alim said to just... shove it in?" Zevran made a deliberate leer.
"Cut it, Zev," the city elf said quaintly as she hoped over rocks and crouched when she was standing on the body. Then, with that so-called seed between her fingers, she stuck it into the gaping, bloody hole in the chest.
"-. .-"
Shale wasn't very used to fighting things so much larger than herself. Even ogres didn't give her this impression of being tiny, or so easy to knock around. Basically, the Golem had just been knocked back powerfully enough to almost fall off her feet. "Dammit! This thing is not squishable at all!" Gathering flames around herself, she lunged forward and was able to ram the thing well enough to knock it off balance. She could feel a few of her crystals, and hear them, break apart, but she paid them no mind.
The others had been thrown about before that thing had dissembled and flown to try and crush them there. It was trying to get to Faren and the object he'd claimed, that much was clear. So, naturally, she wasn't about to let it pass.
Lighting struck the rock being in the back, testament to a certain elven mage's wrath. Taking advantage of this chance, Shale pressed her advantage and reached up to grab onto the chest piece. She then began pulling on it, as hard as she could. She also noticed Morrigan turning from a wasp swarm back into a human, right next to the elf.
Both mages unleashed their magics, and it was thus that the same spot was struck by lighting not for a second, but for the third time as well. Shale felt the electricity rattle through every inch of that abominable thing.
With a resounding power clap, half the monster's 'chest' was wrenched asunder at the golem's hand, leaving the poor imitation of an ethereal rib cage completely exposed.
By now, Faren had managed to flee back to that dying dwarf well enough, Wynne following after him. The only thing that ruined that scene was the enemy blowing itself apart into an amalgam of stone and flying dust that stubbornly pursued him.
"How rude!" Shale admonished.
"-. .-"
"What are we waiting for?" Zevran asked impatiently, obviously not liking what he was seeing of the battle.
"Alim said we should wait until it blooms," Kallian answered, just as confused.
"Blooms?" the assassin really wasn't getting this. "My dear, for a flower to bloom, it first needs roots and then a stem and leaves, and then a bud. As I see it," he gestured towards the demon's corpse. "There are none of those three things here."
Something akin to a stem at once broke through the bloody flesh and grew, like crystal, resembling lyrium veins in their sumptuous shape, only colored red. It broke off into several strains that kept growing, until it looked like a sort of bush, leaf-less, but very much still evolving. Then, the bud appeared on the end of the tallest one. It was small, then got larger, until it burst into a show of solid, glass-smooth petals that spread in the perfect image of a peony.
"... I stand corrected." Both elves looked at the scene in awe, forgetting, for a moment, all about the life-or-death situation surrounding them.
The flower opened further. It was larger than the natural one, much larger. The petals spread, and when the flower had finally bloomed completely, the final petals came apart to reveal a perfect, red sphere, about ten centimeters in diameter.
And then, against all logic, the orb took flight and ended up floating at about the same level as the elves' heads. As for the flower itself, it diminished, but did not lose any of its allure. It just... shrunk... until it was as large as any other flower. All the other stems became thinner, then they began to lose length, only in reverse, because they began to retreat into that flower.
After the peony was all that was left lying on the demon's remains, the orb still hovering above it, those two were finally snapped out of their daze by an explosion that sounded like it came from the direction where they knew Raonar had to be.
With no more delay, Kallian took the flower, Zevran the globe and they bolted in that direction.
"-. .-"
In any other situation, Sten would have been affronted at being left out of the fight and reduced to this human shield duty, but he found there was no place he'd rather be at the moment. He continued to be amazed that kadan was even still alive, not to mention consciously meditating to heal large wound that went right through him, and he as sure it was because of more than just the Lifegiver and the royal signet ring.
Rinne perked up from her silent watch over her master, picking up Faren's hasty footsteps even before Sten himself did. The dwarf slid to a halt and didn't bother with grace as he ran over to kneel across from him. Then, another set of footsteps was heard approaching.
"We should hurry with whatever you are doing," Wynne urged them, sounding a bit exhausted. "I was able to heal the others, but Alistair and Gwen are both unable to continue the fight."
"The... orb..." Raonar wheezed. Sten slipped his hand under his head.
Faren presented the bundle and removed the cloak enough for the prince to take hold of it (Sten had foresightedly removed his remaining gauntlet beforehand).
It was a strange sight. The moment his fingertips made contact with that sphere, something akin to a weak electrical discharge, only red, surged on the contact points. Then, he put his palms on it fully and focused. The red became less homogenous, as if it was all gathering as close to the hands as possible, and it was clear that whatever was in that thing was being draw into his body. Sten cringed at the pain showing on the exile's face, with eyes screwed shut and clenched teeth. Whatever he was doing was probably hell for his wound, even bandaged with healing balms as it was.
Finally, all the color was gone from the globe, so it just... dissolved... burst like a soap bubble.
The wall patch behind Sten exploded inwards and he felt his body moving on its own. He threw himself over the severely injured warden and felt not one but two solid things hitting his massive plate armor from behind. He grunted, his face contorting from the pain. He even felt some sweat forming on his brow when he looked down.
Raonar looked... shocked out of his mind. Why was he looking at him like that?
There was the sound of a massive boulder hitting a force field behind him, as well as a flash of light from the same source, and only then did the Qunari notice the prince's outstretched hand, and the look on his face, like he was barely holding onto his consciousness. Then, the same blast filled his ears as something clashed with the forcefield again, harder.
Hard enough for the dwarf to gasp in pain as the field was shattered and his arm fell to the ground again. Only then did Sten turn his head around and beheld that rock creature, with red light holding it together, as it prepared to deliver another punch.
Only to be stopped mid-way by what looked like a whip made of clear, white energy. It basically snapped and wrapped around what passed for a forearm.
The qunari tried to move, but a pain surged within him, only to disappear as he saw a blue mist enveloping him from head to toe, chasing all discomfort away. Yes, Wynne was still there, surrounded in that aura that appeared whenever she drew upon her Spirit of Faith. She was kneeling beside him and Raonar now and had even healed Faren, who had dodged the initial blast and was now circling that thing.
The exile weakly pulled on Wynne's robes. "H-Heal me..."
The woman looked at him, stunned.
"Now... it'll... work... this time..."
Sten saw her snap from her confusion and focus more intently than he'd ever seen her. She placed a hand on his kadan's forehead, and the other on the horrid injury, murmuring something all the while. The most intense healing light he'd ever seen surged within the dwarf and his expression finally softened from one of agony to one of simply fatigue.
His hand let go of the senior enchanter's robes as he drifted into unconsciousness.
"It.. it worked!" Wynne was astounded. That had never actually happened before, with one minor exception when they fought that band of over 200 darkspawn, and it had worked only barely. Eagerly, she made to go again.
Her spell burst apart in a myriad of useless sparks. "What...?" She looked positively flabbergasted.
The sound of lightning shattering one of the rocks that the monster behind them was made of served well to recapture their attention. "Mage, are you saying his life is not in danger?" Sten asked, realizing he probably sounded as eager as he felt.
"The worst of the damage is gone, yes."
"Good."
The qunari captain didn't even bother waiting. Once Asala was in his hand, he jumped straight at the beast, just briefly taking note of how Zevran and Kallian were running to the scene from some place. He also saw a telekinetic field surrounding his weapon and narrowed his eyes in recognition.
Taking advantage of the strength in his legs, he jumped high, about as high as that rock creature's head, and he plunged Asala right though the last piece of chest rock remaining. He could feel the trembling, but was not exactly prepared for the boulder shattering in his face and blowing him away. To think the demon would sacrifice its body part.
Sten had the misfortune of banging his head against something solid, but it was going to take more than that to knock his senses out of him. He felt Faren next to him, helping him back to his feet. When had he come to be there?
At least the attack had managed something. The blow had also disoriented their enemy, which staggered back and turned around half-way. This, among other things, meant it was now facing a certain elven black magician.
A mage that was looking mighty smug for some reason that, Sten reasoned, probably had to do with that strange, red flower and orb that Kallian and Zevran had brought him. The qunari also saw everyone else finally coming over to rejoin the party, though Theron and Leliana were helping Gwen and Alistair walk, respectively.
Alim's eyes flashed red and he was holding the stem of that flower between his left hand's index and middle fingers. Then, he swished his hand straight at the rock-fused Pride demon.
The stalk pierced the glow in its so-called torso, now bare, with an eerie hiss.
Alim flicked his wrist.
The flower detonated with the might and brightness of ten lighting strikes all at once, blowing all pieces of that rock demon away. Almost everyone covered their eyes or at least cringed from the discomfort in their ears.
The creature, however, would not be put down by this much, as its bits and pieces began congregating some distance away. Of course, the blood mage had seen this coming, so he waved both his staff and his free arm in such a way that it caused many stones, big and small, to take flight and come upon the spot where the enemy was reforming, mixing with its so-called body parts. The abundance of ruined and smashed buildings were good for that much at least.
Thus it was that the stone giant found itself completely immobilized by many rocks that had mixed and jammed its every movement, and this wasn't counting all the stone surrounding it. Basically, it was petrified in place, caught in a shell of the same material it was made of, so that it could only stare and project its malevolence through futile magical outpours.
The elven mage's steps were deliberately slow. After all, he had to give himself time to replace the crystal at the tip of his staff with the orb Zevran had brought him. Demon blood was one of the rarest and strongest reagents in this world, and there had always been something he wanted to do.
His words came out as barely more than a whisper, but no one had trouble understanding. "Who the hell do you think we are?"
What came next left Sten floored. The elf practically hopped on the staff and took off, straight up. He was somehow standing on it, half-crouched, one hand gripping the upper end of the shaft, guiding the ascent. Then, when he was high enough above, he removed the staff from under his feet and lifted it overhead with both arms. He seemed to hover there, his longcoat and hair, mixed with shadow, making him look like a dark ghost in his own right as they fluttered behind him.
And just before his descent began, the red globe turned shimmering blue, and that light surged out and materialized.
Into the perfect shape of a scythe, about two meters in blade length.
With the exception of a fluttering coat, there was only silence as the scythe came down, cutting straight through that demon, leaving absolutely no scratch or dent in any piece of rock but cleaving al that was red energy clearly in half.
The enemy realized it had been defeated after a delay of precisely 7.4 seconds.
So Alim did the natural thing and released a blast of kinetic force that had all the rocks fall at a safe distance away, leaving only a pale red specter behind, some of the light bearing a shape reminiscent of a skull, glaring at him.
"How the mighty have crumbled," Alim taunted, but gave no time for reaction as he just stretched his left arm forward. "I wasn't going to do this, but you ended up fitting under the terms of a certain deal I made a while ago. So, whether you like it or not," tendrils of brilliant white flowed out from under his sleeve, encircling, trapping the spirit inside what eventually became a translucent sphere. "I'm sending you back to the Fade."
Even Sten sensed that thing's shock.
The sphere instantly imploded and disappeared in a flash of light.
"-. .-"
Pride found himself on a wide, marble platform, and he instantly recognized this as the fade when he breathed in the air. He realized his form was small and weak, much like an Arcane Horror, only transparent. Bah. To think something like this could happen and that he'd end up with so little power that he couldn't even appear more solid.
"Well now, a guest!"
Pride turned in the direction of that myriad of voices in one and saw a mass of swirling light. "Honor..." It was more of a hiss than anything else. Just his luck.
"And not even the only one," the spirit noted mildly.
"Indeed," two voices spoke from behind, causing Pride to jump around.
"Small one, isn't he?" the Griffon pronounced with a whip of his tail.
"Yes. And even weaker than that last one sent to me." This third spirit had a man's shape, armored and brilliant. "And that was a demon of sloth. No matter, its transgressions are many and demand justice."
Pride cursed the day he met Raonar Aeducan.
"-. .-"
The mage finally looked back at everyone else and, after shrugging his eyebrows, promptly fell on his rear. And his staff plummeted uselessly too. "Phew."
There was a pause.
"You know," he spoke distantly, sounding suspiciously similar to a certain dwarven noble who was too random for everyone else's own good. "The ironic part of all this is not just the fact that Raonar failed to see the end of the fight... again... but the demon never really learned just what happened that allowed us out and that orb to persist."
There was much staring before anyone actually got around to remembering they still had a voice.
"-. .-"
Raonar Aeducan knew something wasn't right when he woke up to everyone sitting or standing in a semicircle in front of him, either glaring or examining him with the most unreadable expressions they could muster.
In other words, everyone was glaring at him on some level. Great. "Uh... hello?"
"You almost got yourself killed!" Faren snapped. "Again!" If Kallian wasn't holding her arms around his neck from behind, he would have probably punched him one by now.
"Screw that!" Oghren said from the other side. "He almost got all of us killed!"
"I agree with what Faren said and the second part of what Oghren said," Gwen said blandly.
"Right, before that," Kallian intervened. "I'm sure we'll all get our turns at you, but I want to know something. Alim wouldn't say, but what happened that freed us and preserved whatever it was that orb was?"
"Oh," Raonar was grateful for anything that could delay the deluge. "The terms were for the spells on you to last until one of us loses consciousness or dies. They would also persist if he managed to defeat me. The same was for that globe. It would become usable after one of us died or fell and would be destroyed if he won." He reached into his other pant pocket and took out a cloth. "Remember that apothecary I visited back in Orzammar, after we found the first bag of limbs in my Ancestors' Thaig?" Yes, some were getting it. "I went to buy the strongest sleeping agents I could find. Yeah, I had a bunch of cloths laced with it in various parts of my armor and clothes. So, basically... I knocked myself out at the end..."
There was a complete lack of all sorts of possible sounds.
"You are officially insane," Alistair said for everyone else. Well, at least Zevran was smirking and Sten was his stoic self. Awesome guy, maintaining a level of normalcy.
"You could have got us all killed!" Oghren wouldn't let up. "Couldn't you let all this craziness, and whatever other things you have planned, until after we find my wife? The Paragon you need? That rock thing almost bashed my head in, and the others, several times."
"Hey!" the prince made a placating gesture. "This will probably put a damper in my status as person that prepares for everything, but I never even suspected it could possibly turn into a Rock Wraith!"
There was another pause.
"Hold a moment..." Theron requested. "You, mean... you know what that thing was?"
If they weren't glaring before, everyone definitely was at least frowning in confusion now.
"...Oh hell."
The review space is waiting!
Author's Note: I actually decided to have this two-phase demon/rock wraith battle waaay back months ago, when Bioware revealed the thing, even before Dragon Age 2 came out. Do say if you felt it was too long/drawn out.
