HEROES OF FERELDAN


Chapter Ten

INTO THE WILDS—

Far in the southern reaches of Thedas—a cold and dark expanse of forest and swamp lands that stretched for miles and miles the extent of which was not truly known, the Korcari Wilds were shrouded in a thick and unnatural mist and guarded by all manner of creatures

Deep within, following a faded track of treaded ground that passed some old ruins, a man swimming in his blood crawled away from a site of horrors and devastation. Breath was escaping him, threatening to leave him to the darkness. He tried to relieve himself of his armour for he would have little use of it.

He scraped and climbed over the bodies of his comrades, piles of lifeless figures on the ground. He had no doubt he'd soon join them. He could hear their voices now, but they sounded quite different.

"Well, he's not half as dead as he looks, is he?" Alistair quipped and soon the others followed behind him.

The man groggily looked up at his new audience and found he did not know them but he did recognise the sigils they wore. "Grey…Wardens…?" Maker be praised, he smiled through his bloodied lips. "My scouting band was attacked by darkspawn. Came out from the ground and took us by surprise. I've seen my fair share of battles but this?!"

They knelt down to meet the soldier and Alistair took closer examination of him. His wounds seemed deep, the damage extensive yet there was nothing too fatal with the proper aide. The scout pleaded with them to help him back to camp. Artha nodded but Alistair, who tightened the kite shield strapped to his back as though getting ready to leave shook his head, they had a job to do and as part of their lesson, they needed to know how Grey Wardens operated, duty above all had to be fulfilled. "Let's try to bandage him up at least."

The older Grey Warden seemed to approve this and rummaged through his rucksack for some medical supplies. In no time they had patched the scout up again and with some healing potions had him up on his feet again. It wasn't a permanent fix but it would have to do and could get him back to the encampment for real treatment.

Before they let him go however, Artha felt the need to inquire about his brother but the man merely shook his head, saying that no Highever soldiers came their way. Dejected, the young lord bowed his head in thanks with the scout thanking his saviours in kind and sprinted up the road.

This left the company of Warden Recruits in an open field, empties save for the litter of corpses the darkspawn left behind. Among the dead, a small team of perhaps seven men or possibly as much as thirteen, an empty cart which was turned to its side, some druffalos with their stomachs ripped open, their innards spilling out. Some of the corpses even looked like they were trampled upon. The group spread out to investigate some more, Alistair explains that any indication of what they are up against would be helpful once they actually do come upon darkspawn.

"Did you hear?" Jory asked in a whisper. "An entire patrol of seasoned men killed…slaughtered."

"Calm down, Ser Jory. We'll be fine if we're careful," Alistair, who was a few feet away and should not have been able to hear him answered.

"Those soldiers were careful, and they were still overwhelmed," Ser Jory pointed out, dropping whatever he had been holding to stand the certified Warden down. "How many darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? There's an entire army in these forests!"

Although Ser Jory meant for a more imposing stance, Alistair didn't seem so intimidated, wearing a coy grin. "There are darkspawn about, but we're in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde."

The agitated knight growled which then turned to an anxious chuckle, "How do you know? I'm not a coward, but this is both foolish and reckless. We should go back."

Well Artha thought that he definitely sounded like a coward. He for one was actually rather intrigued by the whole notion and his childhood fantasies took the fore. He was currently training to be a Grey Warden. "Overcoming these dangers is part of the test, right?"

They all agreed and Alistair even told them that all Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn so whatever their cunning of their ancient foe he guaranteed that they would not take them by surprise and that was why he was here with them. Daveth didn't miss a quip however, clapping his bulkier friend on the back. "You see, Jory? We might die, but at least we'll be warned about it first."

"That doesn't mean I'm here to make this easy, however," warned Alistair laying his hand ahead to invite them onwards.

They continued to search through the wreck and they noticed a foul stench wash over them. Artha spotted something against one of the fallen pillars and upon further examination found next to white flower with a red centre, what looked like blood, only it was black, and hot. He took the flower and told Alistair of the blood who told them to draw out their weapons. But there was nothing, no sound but faint chirps of small birds in the distance, squirrels scuttling away and a mighty breeze whispering through the trees.

It felt like a pause, unstable and wild. They managed to go a few more kilometres deeper into the forests getting to more ruins and Tevinter pillared structures standing by a large body of water when two monstrous figures swooped down upon them. The recruits were taken off guard, falling to the muddy ground. Only Alistair was standing, whacking his blade with such skill it was mesmerising, but not enough.

The darkspawn were far different to what Artha had expected. Yes they possessed many traits owed to their corruption; monstrous, bestial, and terrifying. Though they growled and barked and screeched like any wild animal, Artha saw an intensity in their eyes, a focus, like they were thinking. He could not explain it.

"Quit daydreaming, kid!" Jory yelled, pulled him from the line of fire of an archer.

He was right of course and it didn't take Artha long to remember his training. There were another two archers standing on top of the pillars where they had a rather good vantage point to shoot at them, alas it also meant that there was nowhere to run to. Daveth fired an arrow right into one of the monsters which sent it tumbling down with a thud and a crack. The other one was a bit more tricky, it kept on spinning and dodging the arrows fired at it as though it had studied them enough to know how to avoid getting hit.

While Daveth worked on that Artha worked on shielding the rogue from incoming fire by slashing at them as they came, and Alistair and Jory were fighting off the others. It took some time but Daveth had let loose an arrow that found its way into the Corrupted's eye socket.

Next they continued forward, probably due-north, there they came by more old ruins, this time they also housed a makeshift darkspawn campsite. They were not vacant and the band suddenly entered another battle with them.

Maker! There were at least seven of them, all huge and savage, like a rabid animal, drool, dripping from their fang filled mouths. Alistair let Jory take the lead for a while, being a seasoned warrior it was fitting, Alistair and Artha had their left and right flanks while Daveth shot everywhere else. When they got close enough they broke.

It would also appear that the darkspawn had advanced themselves—shooting arrows set ablaze through the air. Soon enough he was becoming overwhelmed with two darkspawn against him. One of the genlock archers had taken to duel wielding two curved bone hilted daggers, slashing at him like drake claws all the while trying to keep a larger armoured Hurlock with a large sickle sword from splitting him into two. It was a timely shot from Daveth that bought Artha a window, he kicked the gunlock in the stomach and then swiftly spun around and finishing off the larger brute.

When all was done once more they met up in the middle of the site, each with their empty vials and filled them with the black and corrupted blood of those creatures.

They were allowed some time to rest now, looking around the camp, or at least for a while. Their respite was short lived as more darkspawn arrows fired from over a hill and barely missing them by a hair strand. "Oh, can't we get a fucking brake!" Jory bellowed and followed Alistair who already had his blade drawn and had run off to meet them.

While they left, Artha stayed back with Daveth. "Reckon you could take them down before they get there?"

The rogue grinned at the challenge and took aim. Four archers as his target and with less than a second between the shots, Daveth killed them all which earned a pat on the back from Artha and Daveth kept that self-proud smile all the way to the others. Alistair chuckled himself commending him on his accuracy while Jory simply scowled. "I had that," he said.

The group continued on deeper and the land began to morph into more swampland. There were some arches and pillars running through the water along some patch of debris that formed into a bridge. Alistair stopped them when he saw them—not darkspawn but big grey wolves. He made his way to gesture them back but they had spotted the intruders and attacked accordingly. Again their weapons were drawn but then out of nowhere, another animal came charging past them and toward the wolves, barking furiously at them. It was Fang, come in to aid his master. They were gobsmacked for sure but truthfully grateful for their fortune. The wolves retreated away from the ruins and into the dark pillars of trees.

Artha did not know how Fang was able to enter into the Wilds or even how he found them but he was indeed glad to see his furry friend. The mutt panted, wagging his tail fondly and staring wide-eyed at his master.

The piece of land the wolves were guarding were also home to two statues in the Tevinter style, armoured, faceless and baring spears. They themselves protecting a small chest between them. Again, the men surveyed their surroundings and with the sun slowly setting, Alistair decided that it would be best to camp there for the night, a notion seconded by most, even Fang liked the idea. Artha on the other hand was antsy, his hands were shaking and he realised it he could not tell if it was anticipation for battle or aware that he was in way over his head.

Artha sat close to the small campfire they set up, small enough not to grab any unwanted attention, luckily for them the hills and ruins protected them well enough. He just stared into the dancing flames, lost in his own thoughts as usual.

"So how do you find your first encounter with a darkspawn?" Alistair addressed the circle but they remained silent, reluctant to share, but it didn't take long for them to loosen up a bit.

In truth, Artha was fairly shaken. These darkspawn were a far cry from the savage creatures he'd read about, they were not what one would consider civilised, but since when could mindless monsters coordinate attacks or sharpshooting?

They then began to look for any topic for conversation. It finally landed on their recruitment stories.

"I grew up in a village 'bout a day's ride to the east. Little blot you wouldn't find on a map," he explained. "Haven't been back in years. I struck out for the city as soon as I could outrun my pa. I've been in Denerim for, what…six years now?" Daveth's eyes then began to glaze, like this was the first time exploring this side of his life. "Never liked it much, but there's more purses there than anywhere else."

"So you were a cutpurse?" accused Jory but Daveth didn't seem all too insulted.

"…and a pickpocket, thank you very much," the thief shot back as though the offense was that Jory underestimated his infamy. "Or was anyhow. Who'd ever guess I'd end up a Grey Warden."

"Wait, so how did the Grey Wardens find you?" Artha inquired.

"I found them. I cut Duncan's purse while he was standing in a crowd," he said. "He grabbed my wrist, but I squirmed out and bolted. The old bugger can run, but the garrison caught me first," Daveth chortled. He explained that he was a wanted man in Denerim and he was likely to have gotten the death sentence. Then Duncan stopped them and invoked the Right of Conscription. "Gave the garrison the finger while I was walking away. Don't know why Duncan wants someone like me. But he says finesse is important and that I'm fast with a blade, so maybe it's that. A happy accident."

"Well as for me, I fought hard to get here," said Jory. "Impressing Duncan was not easy. Is it not thrilling to be given the chance?" It was true, Duncan seemed to have an impossible task with a scarce handful of Grey Wardens, yet the senior Warden did not complain or flinch from his duty.

"Yes, I am definitely looking forward to it," answered the young lord and Daveth just bobbed his head in agreement.

"I hail from Redcliffe where I served as a knight under the command of Arl Eamon," said Jory, proudly, even straightening his back as though he were taking ranks. He then regarded the young man for a second, quite possibly the youngest member of their company. "What about you, Artha? You have the bearing of a man who knows how to fight. If I may ask, were you a soldier before you came here?"

He chuckled softly and shook his head. "I wasn't a soldier, but my father did train me to fight," he replied simply.

"Are you a nobleman?"

Daveth gasped then bowed his head. "I am honoured to be in your company, my lord."

Artha wordlessly returned the courtesy. Awkwardly he poked about the small fire, its embers rising into the night like the spark of magic.

The conversation continued on, Daveth asked how they were recruited. "Well though I come from Redcliffe, Duncan recruited me in Highever, a city off the northern coast, it was in Highever that I met my Helena. I was smitten. She has the most beautiful eyes." He was grinning widely, a sort of lopsided one as he reminisced. "Now for years I found any excuse to return there and we married a year ago. Have you travelled there?"

Again Artha chuckled but it soon faded into melancholy. "Actually my father was lord of Highever…before he…"

Now they all froze. Even Alistair seamed dumbstruck for a moment. Jory cleared his throat in preparation to address the young lord, "My lord Cousland. I'm honoured. Arl Eamon gave me leave to serve in Highever, but I was attempting to persuade Helena to come to Redcliffe with me. At least until I was recruited."

"Yeah what's up with that, how did the Grey Wardens find you?" asked Daveth who devoured his strip of beef jerky like a ravenous hound.

"Last month I believe it was, I had won a tournament in Highever."

"Aye, I remember that day," said Artha, a smile crossing his face. "You were actually quite awe-inspiring. It was a shame that I did not get a chance to face you myself, Ser Jory."

Jory smiled at him, feeling some pride well up. "Aye that would have been something. I hear you're quite skilled in combat and I guess today was proven to me. I doubt the match would be long and I don't quite fancy being a loser and risk losing Helena to you, my lord."

A loud howling tore through the silence of that cold night which made Artha jump slightly in his seat. As a child he would always go outside, run in the forest with Fergus, go camping on the way to West Hill or hunting with his father, but here, in these woods, he felt invisible eyes on him, like the woods were alive. "Does anyone get a very dower, deathly vibe about this place?"

"A lot of bad stories about these wilds," their rogue tuckered himself in, enveloping his bow closer.

"It's not just animals and darkspawn that dwell in these forests," Alistair murmured and leaned in, his face looking grim. "In the Black Age an Almarri arl slaughtered the werewolves that inhabited these wilds. He and his army of men and hounds killed every wolf and every member of the Chasind folk too. One day an old Chasind woman found her sons all dead. She pulled a blade from one of their hearts and plunged it into her own chest and cursed the arl's name. Some say that when her blood touched the ground, a mist began to rise and spread across the whole forest—"

"…And killed the arl's army, killed right then and there," Artha interjected.

"Others say that the soldiers wander still," Jory then finished, also leaning in closer, his gaze had grown intense…until the tension broke with their laughter. They stayed up into the night but one by one sleep overtook them, all except Alistair who kept watch on the camp.

. . .

They woke up bright and early though the silence would not tell them how early. The sun was rising but its warmth had yet to reach them, only the cold. Dew still hung on the edge of leaves, droplets woke him gently, Andraste's kiss and he woke untroubled by nightmares. Not even the terrors of the darkspawn could corrupt his night.

They raided the chest where they found an old cache of healing supplies. It would be a balm for their efforts. Fang hunted for his own food, returning to the wolves he'd killed for sustenance. Soon they were ready. The infamous mist had set itself around them and the atmosphere, so intent on hindering them with fears

Alistair led his charges down from their respite and further south, they were getting close to the heart of the old outpost where the charters should be waiting. Beyond the reeds where the top of the outpost had fallen, sunken into the bog they were to slew more darkspawn. They came in droves, marching as though like any other army and it was not long 'till the company became somewhat accustomed.

They came to a narrow pass where soldiers captured had been strung up by the neck, spoiled by a bloody ordeal. "Look there!" Daveth shouted, pointing at the display.

Alistair sighed. "Poor slobs. That just seems excessive."

Their eyes stayed on the bodies so still, as they passed below. They would be a continuing motif as they journeyed, utilised by the darkspawn possibly as an intimidation tactic. Never thought he'd be saying that.

"Shit, an emissary!"

All of a sudden a huge ball of fire came down on them hitting the ground with a small explosion that knocked them to the men to the ground. It was a darkspawn emissary, a spellcaster hurling out strange and dark magic.

This was just overkill, Artha thought as the others ran for towards the monster, standing atop a wide, rundown old bridge raised only slightly over the water, in its hand grasped a burning ball of flames which he continuously began to chuck at the Warden recruits. Artha managed to dodge one and ran after them as the spellcaster retreated to the other side of the lake. Something seemed odd, even Alistair halted, they each shared a look of concern and to their suspicions proven true— the recruits followed the darkspawn into a clearing beside another part of the outpost sinking in the bog. Two more darkspawn appeared, archers already unleashing a flurry arrows at them.

In an act of quick thinking, Alistair threw his shield to Jory who raised it to block off the arrows from both he and Daveth. Fang raced into the battlefield and knocked one darkspawn to the ground. Artha and Alistair were left to the rear as more hurlocks warriors came tried to box them in. They were vicious, going berserk, growling, roaring, spitting, gnawing. It was still hard to think these creatures possessed tact but this ambush proved they had and more—looking around them he noticed that thick wooden pikes were driven to the ground and turned into barricades, strategically placed to hide archers, they were young trees so they could not have been made by one of theirs. It scared the young lord. Still at the end they ended the raid; Jory had ended up fending off a brutish genlock on his own but when Artha made it to him the two dispatched the beast with ease.

Around the lake they could see more ruins, a giant dome structure in the water, a dour reminded of civilisation. Alistair told them that the outpost was just of the hill though it was hard to make out in the mist.

As they go up the slopes Artha sees a small pile of white rocks with ash over it. For some reason the name Gazarath enters his head but dismisses it just as quickly.

Finally they could see the ruins more clearly, or where the base of the tower ought to have stood. A small cemetery of moss-covered pillars lay around its circular base, but as they got closer, they saw too a small group of darkspawn at the mouth. They counted four darkspawn Hurlocks with an alpha at the back.

At first Artha was hoping on the fact they had yet to be seen but was dashed when they began their approach, one of them even started firing arrows at them. Everyone was dashing around to avoid getting hit but as Artha lay at its line of sight, his movements were limited especially with the monsters descending down the hill with great speed. Luckily Artha saw only a few feet away from him a large round metal shield facing down. He looked up in time to see more arrows coming and quickly dove forward, rolling toward the shield where his arm perfectly slipped into the straps. He raised the shield and the arrows bounced off the shield like stones.

Now equipped with a little more protection, Artha started to sprint up, now ahead of his company. He bashed every darkspawn in his path, enough to rob them of footing but not fatal. That was where the others came in; Alistair slashing his blade across to decapitate one with Jory's greatsword plunged into another's gut. Daveth with his bow had started shooting down arrows from the air and Fang did what Fang did best…he pounced onto them, bearing his teeth before ripping their heads off.

A larger Hurlock had attached itself to his shield, trying to wrench it from his arm. "Daveth!"

The rogue swiftly shot an arrow at the monster, when the creature did not die, Jory came to his side and sliced through the darkspawn like a filleted fish. They all then ganged up on the alpha who was more larger than the others with bulking armour and a menacing horned helmet that covered the entirety of its monstrous face. Alistair then used a powerful shield bash to take away its footing, Daveth shot at its hand bound to strike at Jory while Artha swung from the side, a mighty strike that sliced into the monster's neck, cutting his head clean off.

Then that was the end of that, the battle seemingly won the five warriors—Fang included, made their way into the structure though clearly old and covered in fungus and vines, the moss could not completely hide away the white sheen of the stones.

Artha sees the box at the end of the ruins opposite the main entrance, surrounded by rubble but as they got close they found the box was no more, smashed in it was nothing more than a collection of perfectly carved stone, and iron hinges and fittings. They ran to it, kneeling around the box in search of the pieces of paper they had risked life and limb to retrieve, hoping to the Maker they were still there. But it was empty. They all cursed at their fortune while Alistair stood up and began to ponder on the missing content.

Jory asked what they had to do now but their leader remained in thought.

"Well, well," came a stranger's voice, echoing amongst the ruined stone. "What have we here?" The men were startled, looking about them for the source of the voice.

At last, a figure appeared from atop a stone rampart, a woman dressed in an assortment of clothing of indiscernible style, more like it was made of random fabrics and patchwork that barely covered her body modestly. Even the jewelry she wore around her slender neck seemed mismatched. As to who she actually was, Artha could not tell for she kept a hood up but he swore a glimpse of her eyes, glowing in the shadow of her cowl, like a cat's.

Something was clear however—a long black wood branch in her grasps with strange symbols etched upon the tip, she was a mage. Instantly, Artha's hands came to his sword and lifted it but an inch from its scabbard.

"Are they vultures, I wonder?" she began to speculate, with only a hint of playful sarcasm. "Scavengers, poking amidst the corpse whose bones were long since cleaned." The woman then started to descend and once she stood before them on equal footing took down her cowl, revealing the face of a beautiful young woman. She was probably only a few years older than himself or else that her time in the Wilds had an effect on her.

"Or merely intruders, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?" She now stood before him, an inch or two shorter than he. She looked up into his eyes and he to hers, transfixed by their unusual hue, not golden like the king's but yellow, glowing. "So what say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?"

Artha's heart was racing but he quickly found his voice again. "I am neither," he answered with conviction. "The Grey Wardens once owned this tower."

She chuckled bemused and crossed her arms. "'tis a tower no longer," she quipped. "The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse." She then began to walk around them, her eyes still studying the recruits with caution and interest. "I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go,' I wonder, 'why are they here?" She passes through an archway onto the edge of a cliff above the lake. Her back to them as she muses. "And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?" the woman turns around again, an eyebrow cocked.

Artha heard Alistair beside him whispering, "Don't answer her. She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby."

He was sure that the more experienced Warden whispered softly enough so that only he could hear it but perhaps not nearly quiet enough for a mischievous smirk played upon the wild woman's pale face as though unhurt by his silent insinuation. "Ooh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

"Yes, swooping is bad," Alistair retorted, eyes still suspicious.

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is!" hushed Daveth, "She'll turn us into toads!"

Again the woman chuckled and she did look close to just bellowing in laughter like she was having the time of her life. "Witch of the Wilds?" she snickered. "Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no mind of your own?"

She then rounded on Artha whose hand was still clutching at the hilt of his sword, but in rest and not to assume aggression. She came forth to him with a confidently seductive stride, slow yet sure.

"You there, handsome lad. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine," she demanded. "Let us be civilised."

"Oh. I am Artha Cousland. A pleasure to meet you," greeted the youngest recruit before he could even stop himself.

"Now that is a proper, civil greeting, even here in the Wilds," said the wild woman with a smile which lost its poison. The woman then began to circle him. Her narrow fingers lightly caressing the outlines of his armour until they found his chin. "You may call me Morrigan."

The others still regarded her with the highest suspicions with Alistair taking point. But neither of them held her in any worry or fear. it was as though she had dealt with their lot on a regular basis...and enjoyed it. Artha was certainly taken by her, though perhaps it was more in curiosity. There was just something about her that he could not yet see.

"Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?" If she came into this conversation with subtly she had all but forgotten it and her duplicity may have exposed itself.

Alistair was hot on her deception, pointing a finger on her. "Here no longer?' You stole them, didn't you!" he exclaimed. "You're some kind of… sneaky… witch-thief!"

"How very eloquent." She teased and then pointed out, "How does one steal from dead men?"

"Quite easily, it seems," the senior Warden shot back, unamused by the woman's games. "Those documents are Grey Warden property and I suggest you return them." His tone was firm, strong, and almost regal even. He moved to the front of the group but was lightly stopped by Artha, reminding their leader of some tact himself.

"I will not for it was not I who removed them." Her smile was gone now, and a scowl came to take its place. "Invoke a name that means nothing her any longer if you wish, I am not threatened."

"Then who removed them?" Artha took charge to cut the growing tension.

Morrigan seemed more receptive of him now, and her smile returned. "t'was my mother, in fact." The young man returned her warmth but a small part of his mind was suggesting caution. He asked if she could indeed take them to her and the Grey Warden documents. "Now there is a sensible request. I like you," she said, a slight almost girly giggle hid in her own tone. She then began walking past the group of Wardens, they guessed she wanted them to follow so they did, closely but not too close, naturally, especially as she produced a crude wooden staff standing against a nearby wall.

"I'd be careful," Alistair whispered again, moving close to the young Cousland. "First it's 'I like you…' but then 'Zap!' frog time," he said, reminding him that the woman leading them was indeed a mage.

Daveth looked on ahead, concerned. "She'll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch," he warned, fidgeting with his blades.

Jory was also worried but it looked as though his agitation was making up for it. "If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'd be a nicer change."

On that, Artha could not agree with more, perhaps he was not used to such a testing environment. One bit of privileged stereotype he could not pretend was not true. So they continued on—three Warden Recruits and their supervisor allowing a strange wilderness mage lead them deeper into the Maker forsaken forest.


DRAGON AGE—

Author's Note:

I am sorry it's taking so long if there are any readers. My computers doing this thing where it won't let me save any of my documents or that they don't save properly. Either way I would sometimes spend an hour writing, maybe more only to have it all erased again. It's really starting to piss me off.

I really do want to keep writing this regardless if people actually read it but finding time is not as easy as when I started this. Still, until BioWare comes out with a fourth Dragon Age game that would inevitably consume my time, I would like to continue to write and finish documenting my character's playthrough.