Animal

A Dragon Age: Origins Fan fiction following my point of view as Rachna, the rogue Dwarven Commoner.

All things BioWare are © BioWare. (This includes an extremely long list of characters, places, ideas, dialogues, and a whole bunch of awesome stuff.)

Story is written by and © Kami Rose

Warning: Spoilers, obviously.

Note: Story will not always directly follow gameplay or dialogue. Have to be creative sometimes, no? Otherwise you should just play the Dwarf Commoner story line. xD

Name origin: Rachna – Sanskrit – meaning "Creation". I am unsure how it is pronounced. In my own head I say it like "Rawk-gna".

Morrigan made an exasperated noise before throwing up a hand and with a turn of her head dismissing the both of them. Yes, they had to hurry, but she'd only been conscious for a handful of hours after days of bed rest with a serious wound; frankly, it was amazing Rachna had pressed herself as far as she had. Lothering was but an hour or two away and she'd rather enter the town with some energy to spare instead of being completely spent. Obviously frustrated, the mage left them sitting there to stake out some distance away. The dwarf watched to make sure she was within sight and sound before slumping against a tree. The pounding in her head was horrible and the fragments of dreams lingered, splinters in her mind. She covered her eyes with a hand and focused on breathing for several long minutes. Things were moving way too fast and it all felt so unreal. A month ago she knew nothing of magic, the topside, Grey Wardens, or hundreds of other things she'd been introduced to as of late. Nothing could have prepared her for all of this.

Some time later she opened her eyes under raised palm, still unaccustomed to the sun, and looked towards the only other survivor of Ostagar. He stood with a single hand bracing his weight against a tree. His back was to her and she looked at the patterned fabric piece pinned to his shield. At first she'd made the mistake of likening him to Leske, but had recently come to realize he was much softer than her old comrade. She found herself at a loss here, back in Dust Town something like this was laughed about over a pint of cheap ale shared on top of a crumbling wall looking over a lava pit; just enjoying the fact they made it out of another scrape and were still alive to tell the tale. This man was deeply grieving, and Rachna didn't know how to deal with it. Yea, people died, but that was just how things worked. Still, she felt sympathy for him; after all she certainly knew what it meant to lose everything. Maybe one day she'd go back to Orzammar when things were settled. Could she even? Did being conscripted into being a Grey Warden also pardon her from 'treason'? Or did killing a mob boss do that? She blew a braid out of her face, huffing; probably not, if she returned they'd string her up. Ungrateful, sodding, stone-blind gits; all of them. Well, except Leske and Rica. Everyone else though certainly was, even mam.

The tribal sun banner she'd been staring at dipped suddenly, drawing her attention back to the present. Alistair was now sitting on his hunches, seemingly drawing in the dirt with a stick. She frowned at this, reminded of a child. Oh yes, this was going swimmingly. First save Oskias from the skinning he had to know was coming. Then kill Beraht to save Rica, Leske and herself. After that it's go kill these creatures to save those people, pick this flower for a bloody dog, wipe that boy's nose, and then save all of sodding Ferelden! What next? Rachna, change diapers please? Is this what was to become of the sharpest Duster to ever cross topside? She glared at his back, scorn over every feature.

His head bent forward then, and a piteous sniffle could be heard. Her mouth wavered slightly, remembering the last time she made that noise; her dad had walked out on his family and she'd ran to Rica to cry. Her arms crossed over her chest as she sighed. Cursing to herself silently, she kicked off from the tree she'd been leaning against and then approached him. He wasn't paying any attention though, continuing to draw seemingly pointless circles in the dead leaves and dirt. Rachna crouched next to him, resting her arms across her knees and leaning forward to look at his face. It was contorted with his pain, eyes focused somewhere far away in the past, but to his credit he wasn't crying. Thankfully she'd been unconscious for the weepy part apparently. It was awkward, being this close to him and not knowing what to say. She chewed the inside of her cheek in thought for a moment before whispering to him.

"Do… Do you want to talk about Duncan?"

"You don't have to do that. I know you didn't know him as long as I did."

Rachna's brow furrowed, a bit insulted. She thought back on the man she'd spoken to before the Proving, the man that had offered her a way out of her troubles and a chance at a new life; whom been her traveling companion between Orzammar and Ostagar and had taught her much of this land with nothing but patience and kindness beyond what her gruffness deserved. She shifted her position, dropping one knee to better balance her weight.

"That doesn't mean I don't mourn the loss of him, you know."

He threw his stick out into the underbrush, still not meeting her eyes. He sighed and shook his head, focusing on the figures he drew, though Rachna couldn't make any sense out of them and assumed they didn't mean anything in particular.

"I just… I should have handled it better. Duncan warned me right from the beginning that this could happen."

He threw up his hands in a helpless gesture, sounding frustrated as well as sad.

"Any of us could die in battle. I shouldn't have lost it, not with so much riding on us, not with the Blight… and… and everything. I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize…"

She offered quietly, not really sure if it was true. He had made things a bit more difficult with his moping, but at least he wasn't bawling about it either. At least he could see that there was stuff that needed to get done, and was trying to push forward. Rachna bit her lip, feeling guilty for judging him so harshly in her head earlier. She was still rather done with his pitiful mourning, but seeing how badly he struggled with himself was something she could relate to and understand. Alistair stood then, looking out to some place unseen as she straightened herself gratefully. Her body was still quite stiff from her severe injuries and whatever magic she endured to make sure they healed.

"I'd… like to have a proper funeral for him. Maybe once this is all done, if we're still alive. I… don't think he had any family. To speak of anyway."

She hadn't known that, but then again she'd barely asked anything of her former traveling companion other than the straight up facts about what she was getting herself into. Rachna reached up to pat the back of Alistair's shoulder, a gesture that felt a lot more awkward than it should have.

"Hey, he had you."

"I… suppose he did. It probably sounds stupid, but part of me wishes I was with him. In the battle I mean. I feel like I… I don't know. Like I abandoned him."

His voice had lowered and took on the tone of a confession. Rachna put her hands behind her head and stretched as she looked out over a drop in the land, taking in the features as she digested that. She thought on Leske and felt her chest tighten. What she would give to have that old scamp with her now, and she prayed that the Stone was keeping him safe and his nose clean.

"No, it doesn't sound stupid. I understand completely."

He glanced at her for a moment, but if he was curious he kept the question to himself. A moment or two passed before he breathed out heavily.

"Of course I'd be dead, then, wouldn't I? It's not like that would make him happier."

There was just a hint of his typical jovial self in the undertones, and Rachna couldn't help but smile slightly. Maybe this was all he needed before he could move on, just someone to listen for a few minutes.

"I think he came from Highever, or so he said. Maybe I'll go up to there sometime, see about putting something up in his honor. Dwarves… don't practice cremation, do they? How exactly do your people honor your dead?"

For some reason the first image that came to her mind was Beraht's bloodied body sprawled across the stone, his gut wretched apart and his eyes glassed over in death. The picture gave her a sick sense of pleasure and she fought to put that memory someplace else while she tried to focus on a decent answer.

"Uh… we entomb our dead. Within the stone beneath our thaigs."

Or most, anyway. The ones that mean something to someone. Fingertips brushed her brand on their own accord, a reminder that no matter where she was, she would always be considered worthless; even if no one here knew it yet.

"I…heard about that? Now that I think about it. Their spirits return to the rock, strengthening the foundation of the thaig? It sounds so… so strange."

"No stranger than burning your honored dead for their ashes!"

She snorted in laughter, seriously, who did that? He turned to look at her, really, for the first time since they started this talk. There was just a shadow of a smile, and the light was still weak in his eyes, but he was definitely more himself. Rachna mentally patted herself on the back, apparently she wasn't as bad at this as she thought.

"I suppose you're right. Hey… Thank you. Really, I mean it. It was good to talk about it, at least a little."

She smiled at him, still rather proud of herself for handling this so well, and hoping this would mean he'd stop dragging his heels everywhere.

"Anytime, Alistair."

Turning to look back over the trees and towards the direction of this town they were supposed to be going to, she felt a little better. She repeated herself, feeling a bit more optimistic about this whole crazy mission.

"Anytime."

She swiveled on her feet, intending to gather Morrigan and set out again, when she could swear there was the distant sound of … barking. The moment she tried to pinpoint it though, it stopped. Odd. She stood there for another moment, waiting to see if it would come again, but nothing. Shrugging, she turned to Alistair to see if he'd heard it, but there was no indication of it on his face. Maybe it was a common thing in Ferelden and no one took notice. In any case, they had to get going. She pushed bramble aside as she approached Morrigan, who was obviously displeased and had her arms crossed as she paced.

"Finished your little chat then, I take it?"

Had she heard them? Not that it mattered much; she just wouldn't mention it to Alistair since he'd probably have a fit about it. Rachna nodded, seizing up the witch yet again. There was just something off about her; it was both compelling and unsettling. It was shocking to realize that she already trusted the other Grey Warden, he had proven himself loyal though, but this mage had not. Still, there was very little choice in the matter and in truth if the woman decided to turn Rachna felt rather confident that her dagger would meet its mark before the mage could finish them off. Morrigan, as if she could read the thought, sneered and brushed past the dwarf, grabbing her gnarled staff on her way out.

"Let us be off then. We have much to do if we're going to defeat the Blight."

Very true. Alistair was already waiting for them on the main road when they got there, looking more responsive thankfully. They set off again, and within a handful of minutes the two of them were trading barbs. Rachna groaned and pushed forward, hoping that if she'd pick up the pace they'd shut up, or that she'd at least get out of earshot. No such luck though, they simply sped up and kept talking. Wonderful. Wait, was that the barking again? She held up her hand to silence them, trying to listen for it. They either ignored her or were oblivious because they just kept blathering on.

"Or we could not talk about your mother. That works for-"

"Shut up, the both of you! Listen."

She cut off Alistair, drawing one of her long daggers quietly as they rounded a bend in the road. There was a huff and she was sure Morrigan was just about to say something when there was a glimpse of movement. It bounded into view, and Rachna sighed as she re-sheathed her blade, recognizing the sick mutt she'd muzzled earlier. Apparently that flower had worked after all. Who knew?

"Uh. Don't look know, but, well. Look now!"

Her head snapped up at Alistair's warning, seeing that the dog wasn't alone. Sodding mongrel had brought a darkspawn party. She drew both blades as the leader of the little band made a threatening gesture, to which Rachna simply sneered before leaping towards them, barking out at her party.

"C'mon guys, quit staring and do something!"

That woke them up, and suddenly the genlock before he froze over, complete with icicles dripping from his nose.

"Nice one, Morrigan!"

She called out over the din, not seeing the mage take a small bow. Then Alistair was roaring and pressing through with his shield, even the blasted dog was getting into it. Her daggers flashed as they found purchase time and time again, ignoring her own body complaining about old aches and wounds as she ripped up anything that was close enough to reach. And just as suddenly as it began, the skirmish was over, and she stood panting slightly over the bloodied bodies at her feet. Ugh, there wasn't even a clean patch of leather on her arm to wipe her splattered face with. Disgusting. The dog took care of it for her though, as he wagged his stump happily and slobbered all over her face. She sputtered and pushed him away. Ugh, so be covered in blood or in dog spit? Rachna was pretty sure she preferred being perpetually dirty in Dust Town to this. Still, the Mabari sat in front of her, his whole body shaking from the force of his happy stump-wagging. Despite herself she grinned at the animal, which easily came up to her shoulder when standing. She patted him playfully, glad he was alright.

"Those darkspawn didn't hurt you, boy, did they?"

She baited him playfully, laughing when he growled and then barked. Alistair approached curiously, also looking to be in need of a bath. He didn't even bother with the blood though, used to it, she supposed. He crouched next to the hound, careful not to get too close just to be on the safe side.

"I'm pretty sure he was out here looking for you. He's… chosen you, I think. Mabari are like that, they call it imprinting."

Morrigan made a sound of disgust and Rachna looked up to see the mage was still as immaculate as ever and was picking her way around the pools of blood to pointedly gesture to the war hound.

"Does this mean we're going to have this mangy beast following us around now? Wonderful."

"He's not mangy!"

The boy almost sounded hurt on behalf of the dog, giving Morrigan a defiant look. What was she, a baby sitter now? It was like siblings quarreling over a stray. She rubbed her forehead in frustration, smearing the blood on her hand all over her skin as she did so. The dog whined and she looked up into his puckered face.

"Oh, alright. He can come, but he better make himself useful."

She said pointedly, giving the war hound that had just crunched a darkspawn's face into unrecognizable mush a serious look. His tongue lolled out for a second before he barked happily, getting up and doing small circles. Morrigan threw her hands up in despair.

"And yet we still have Alistair along…"

There was an unmistakable sound, and Rachna turned to see the dog peeing on the corpse of the Hurlock alpha that had threatened them earlier. She snorted, trying to suppress a laugh, hiding her grin behind a hand. Alistair's face lightened up though, and he stood up again as he turned to Morrigan.

"I could do that too, you know."

The mage waved him off, sounding rather dismissive.

"I doubt you have the equipment necessary, Alistair."

"Heeey!"