A cold wind blew into the cave as a band of men and women were huddled around a great fire. Thick fur cloaks taken from the hides of bears, wolves and other beasts were wrapped around their bodies, providing them a measure of warmth against the cold while each of them also wore suits of rough hide leather armor. The eyes of the people within the cave were focused upon the multiple pieces of cooking bear meat which were skewered upon sticks held close to the flames.
It had been a successful hunt thought Roanoke as he patiently watched two particularly large cuts of bear meat cook over the fire. His grey eyes reflected the flames in front of him as he ran a calloused hand over his short cropped beard which had once been of a dark brown color in his youth but now had many grey strands. Like the rest of his fellow hunters, Roanoke was also covered in thick furs while a bow and a woodcutting axe rested close to him.
The bears they had tracked were not only fat and plump but so were their cubs whose meat and hides would also help keep them fed and warm as well as the rest of their clan. As the meat continued to cook, he then looked to his daughter, Alfhild who was also watching their next meal with hungry eyes. Alfhild's hands were outstretched, hovering close to the flames which gave off its life-giving warmth.
Roanoke felt proud of his daughter for despite being only fourteen winters, it was her arrow which struck the killing blow on the bear patriarch while its mate took several more arrows before being put down. He was thankful to the gods that no one in their party was hurt and more so that they had found a place to take shelter for the snow outside became a freezing blizzard. It was strange though that the weather would become just like that, especially during this time of the season. Some of the other believed that it was not a good omen while Roanoke himself thought that it was nothing more than mere superstition.
His stomach growled a bit loudly and he looked to Alfhild who gave him an amused smile. How much she looked like her mother he thought a bit sadly with her pale skin, bright reddish red hair and green eyes. A sudden startled look came over his daughter here as she then looked back towards the mouth of the cave where the howling winds could be heard.
'Did you feel that?' asked Alfhild and Roanoke shrugged for the only thing he was feeling now was the cold wind and the hunger inside his belly.
'I could have sworn that there was something… out there' she then said as she got up and began making her way to cave's entrance.
'Don't go too far now!' called Roanoke who trusted his daughter enough not to do anything foolish.
'Everyone! Come quick!' soon came the voice of Alfhild and the urgent tone of which she spoke caused many of his fellow hunters to rise up to their feet with alarm. A brief flush of parental concern coursed through Roanoke as he swiftly began making his way to the cave mouth with the partially cooked bear meat still in hand and he was relieved to still see his daughter in sight. He saw her pointing down at something and when he looked, his eyes widened as he noticed the grey fur pelt of wolf which was worn around a man clad in a suite of metal armor like that of a northern knight.
A fierce looking maul was clenched in the knight's gauntlet and Roanoke wondered how this man even got here for the land of Ferelden was many miles away to the north.
'Should we help him?' asked Alfhild as she looked to them and Roanoke heard his clansmen speak to one another, unsure before one look from his daughter caused them to make up their minds.
Roanoke and another hunter named Erling went towards the fallen warrior and they first tried to flip him over so that the man may lie upon his back. The heavy armor which the knight wore made him extra heavy but soon the two men were able to turn him aside him before dragging the unconscious man into the cave and near the cooking fire to be warmed.
Many fires burned in the dark distance, filling Arion with a sense of foreboding and perhaps even a bit of fear. Looking to his companions, he raised one hand and made a silent series of gestures which they all understood. Each member of his party were well skilled in the ways of stealth, sabotage and assassination but most importantly was that each of them were intimately familiar with the foes which they faced.
Keeping low under the cover of darkness, they moved along the snowy dunes, each of them wore leather armour with white cloaks to blend in with their surroundings while amulets, rings, belts or other pieces of equipment were imbued to provide protection against the harsh cold. Circling around the camp where enemy sentries stood guard, they already had a good sense of where there were gaps and weaknesses among the pickets. Bestial roars were mixed with the howling winds as the occasional, agonized scream of an unfortunate captive cried out.
Anger and loathing filled Arion as he placed his hands upon the pommels of his twin swords but was forced to keep his temper in check for their mission could not be compromised. Taking a deep breath of the frigid air which was mixed with the faint, foul smell of their foe, he was forced to calm himself, for now. A tingling sensation soon filled the back of his head as they drew closer to the camp and he saw a small group of sentries break away with torches held up.
Darkspawn was the name of these foul creatures who often resided deep below within the tunnels and mines of the dwarves. The fact that there were so many of the damned things on the surface led to one, troubling conclusion. There was a Blight coming and with it, a horde of Darkspawn that would leave a trail of ruin and destruction upon Thedas, something which Arion and the rest of his order, the Grey Wardens, could not allow.
While a small party of four would hardly be sufficient in stopping the entire horde, their skills made them perfect for at least slowing down and harrying the monsters long enough until the armies of Ferelden are rallied into a proper fighting force. He also hoped that his brothers and sisters from Orlais would arrive in time to do their job and he hoped that Duncan would be able to gather enough recruits for the coming war. Until then though, Arion and his party had their duties to complete, even if the chances of success were slim.
His group was composed of other humans such as himself, men and women drawn from all across Thedas for their skills and abilities. There was an assassin from Antiva named Cortez who had some affiliation with the Crows, then there was a Ranger named Anna from the Free Marches who was a good shot with a bow, and finally there was a Shadow named Garth who was a master of poisons, herbs and traps. Arion himself was a duelist from Kirkwall and he was quite good at giving his enemies a stand up fight when he needed to.
Their target was a Hurlock Commander who had been leading this rabble against the local wilder tribes with a surprisingly adept degree of cunning and tactical skill. Such a creature was one of many that could not be allowed to make it to northwards for if it did, the Hurlock leader would likely become part of a vanguard force that would pave the way for the rest of the horde.
As Arion was about to send orders to his part to move on, he heard a loud and deep voice bellowing a series of profanities in Orlesian and the Wardens looked to one another in puzzlement.
Feeling the crunch of bone as his mace slammed into the face of a squat monster that looked like a stunted orc and pulverizing its face. Lothaire then sent a back-handed swing from his gauntleted left hand which struck another of the foul things in its jaw and his armoured fist struck the hideous monster with a loud smack that sent it reeling back. Coldness seeped into his very bones and the frigid air was mixed with a corruption akin to unnatural presence of the Ruinous Powers.
'Back you foul, dirty fiends!' roared the Paladin as he swung his large mace one handed into the side of another monster's head and splattering it brains upon the snow.
He had absolutely no idea of where he was and how he had gotten here. All he remembered was the nightmarish journey through that hellish place where the daemons of Chaos resided and then he came into what looked like a library of impossible architecture. A vulture headed daemon had angrily shrilled and shouted at him and before he knew it, he was sent back into the shifting realm, only to end up in this frozen place where had quickly found himself to be surrounded by monsters that were as ugly as orcs.
The squat orc things backed away while making a series of grunting noises with many carrying wicked blades or axes and three he could see were taking aim with bows and crossbow. 'Merde' he hissed underneath his helmet as he readied himself for a sprint with the archers being his next target. Everything suddenly seemed to slow down around Lothaire as he took in every detail of his surroundings; he saw the hideous faces of his foes, the snow that fell from the sky and the embers of fire that lighted up the darkness.
With a deep inhale of the frigid air, the Paladin quickly broke into a sprint as arrows and bolts were fired at once. He felt the impact as an arrow scraped against the side of his breastplate and was suddenly jerked as another struck his right pauldron but worst of all was the sudden agony he felt as the tip of a crossbow bolt punctured his left cuisse and into the flesh of his thigh. Through sheer force of will, he remained on the sprint while fighting through the pain and he crushed the skull of another monster that came too close to him with twin axes.
His wrathful gaze then settled on the monster that had shot him and he felt his anger rise in vengeance. Roaring a wordless war cry, he rushed the archer with his mace held in both hands and he saw the creature attempt to reload its crossbow. Lothaire the swung his mace towards the archer's head with such force that he heard the loud snap of its vertebrae as the head was completely knocked to the side in an awkward and lethal angle.
Another pair of arrows slammed into his back but thankfully none pierced the armoured plates. Hearing the crunch of heavy footsteps upon the snow, the knight then turned around to see more of the things cautiously converging around him and in the distance, he saw several other monstrosities that were as tell as men. He had no idea exactly what he was fighting, but there was something about them that seemed unnaturally wrong and by his guess, he was probably fighting Chaos tainted mutants.
If these things thought that they had him cornered like a wounded skaven then it would be his obligation to show them the error of such thinking. Bringing his mace up again in a more aggressive stance, Lothaire continued to ignore the pain of his wound as he tightened the grip on his weapon and he looked upon his foes with as much as contempt as if he were fighting against mere greenskins.
'Is he going to be okay?' asked Alfhild with a bit of concern as she looked towards the unconscious stranger who lay close to the fire.
'I have found no wounds, so he should be fine' shrugged a woman named Nilsine who was knowledgeable in the lore of herbs and medicine. While inspecting the armored stranger for any injuries, the first thing she did was remove his wolf-skull mask and to the collective surprise of the hunters, they found their guest to be an elderly looking man with many scars across his face.
In his hands, Roanoke studied the wolf-skull mask which the stranger wore and by his guess, the old man was a shaman of sorts for he had noticed the charms made from wolf fangs, a horn that was etched with symbols and the pouches which contained dried powders. From what clan the old man hailed from though, Roanoke had no idea for the armor which the stranger was of a design the hunter had never seen. He also noticed that one of the charm which the old man carried was composed of a thin leather lace attached to two large fangs which came from a beast that was not known to him for it was too large and too thick to belong to a wolf or a bear, perhaps a boar he thought but no there was something off about them.
The maul which the old man carried was also quite unusual for it was not as heavy-looking or massive as most hammers Roanoke had seen. He had also noticed the coating of ice which covered the hammer's head and both the hunter and his party realized that it must be imbued with magic. Now that he thought about it, he had never seen a shaman who carried arms and armor aside from robes and a staff.
With a shrug, he decided to question the old man later, besides, it was unlikely anyway that they would be leaving the cave soon for the blizzard still raged on, and they had nothing else to do now aside from making their guest feel comfortable until he awakens. As the cold wind continued to howl outside of the cave, Roanoke noticed a rather foul stench akin to rotten meat begin to waft in. The other hunters noticed it as well for they had begun to pick up their bows and quivers.
Loud bestial voices were heard and all eyes were quickly turned towards the cavern entrance where several dark figures could be seen. Darkspawn, came the horrified realization of Roanoke for he had heard stories of the creatures being seen across the south but had dismissed them as wild tales. The Darkspawn gave a series of savage warcries that were filled with bloodlust as they began to rush into the cave with weapons raised.
The air between the hunters and the Darkspawn was soon filled with a volley of arrows that felled many of those at the front while the monsters at the back shoved their wounded forward or even used the bodies as shields. Drawing another arrow from his quiver, Roanoke sighted down on a tall, man-sized Darkspawn that was just as hideous as the others and he fired a shot that flew straight and true into its right eye. Quickly throwing down his bow and picking up his axe, Roanoke held it in both hands as if he were holding on to a great axe.
His fellow clansmen pulled off what last shots they could before switching to close combat weapons as well and charging into the incoming monsters. Fear gripped the heart of the hunter as he drew closer to the Darkspawn and it granted him a sense of desperation that gave way to both clarity and determination to survive. With an overhead chop, his axe which was often used to fell trees proved just as effective with flesh and bone for it buried itself in the skull of a stunted Darkspawn with loud wet crack.
Kicking the creature off his axe blade and swinging it downward to the nearest monster that came at him, Roanoke gashed the neck of a larger darkspawn and spilling foul burning blood all over him. Screams of pain, anger and terror filled the cave as his clansmen fought and died under the blades of the darkspawn and he was overwhelmed with concern for his daughter. He wanted to call out to Alfhild but before he could, he saw an armored darkspawn wielding a mace and shield come at him and he was forced to jump back to avoid having his head smashed in.
Landing on his feet, he knew that if he were to be distracted, even by just a little, it would mean only death for him. Readying himself for another attack, Roanoke charged into the darkspawn with axe raised in a murderous arc.
The Darkspawn encampment was now all up in arms as several of the creatures rushed to where the armored, horned helmeted knight stood. A ring of corpses surrounded the man who cursed at the monsters in Orlesian while his massive mace was now slick with blood, bits of flesh, bone fragments and brain matter. This knight fought with great skill, thought Arion with quite amazement as he remained behind the cover of a hill for while the unknown stranger bled from many wounds, he still stood his ground and looked ready to take on more of the things.
'We should help him' quietly said Anna as she as drew an arrow from her quiver.
'Si, I agree with the Señorita' came the voice of Cortez who drew a pair of daggers which were likely coated with a potent poison.
Garth of course remained silent as usual but a simple nod from him made it clear that he too was in agreement. Arion surveyed the gathered Darkspawn for a moment and his eyes widened in surprise when he caught sight of the Hurlock Commander they had sought. Clad in barbaric armor that was colored dark yellow and wearing an intimidating horned helmet, the Grey Warden quickly informed his company of the enemy leader and soon they were able to devise a plan.
Anna would remain on the hill and use her bow pick off the Darkspawn while Arion himself would try to draw as much attention to himself as possible with Garth to back him up and Cortez to assassinate the Hurlock Commander. Another loud roar echoed across the camp as the armored stranger crushed the ribcage of a genlock and he followed up by knocking a Hurlock off of its feet with a strike to the gut. Performing a series of silent hand signals, Arion ordered them to move out.
Drawing his one of his two weapons which were both rune-imbued Saw Swords made from White Steel, the Grey Warden advanced over the hill as quietly as he possibly could. The battle within the camp raged on and to his further surprise, he saw the knight continue to stand and fight as blades and bludgeons struck against him. At a closer look, he quickly noticed the unfamiliar design of the knight's armor and the heraldry of the hart's head with the black and red behind it.
Perhaps the knight was a Chevalier from Serault? He did not know for sure and if the stranger was, then the man was just as much a long way from home as the Grey Wardens were. Creeping up to a bow armed Hurlock that was busy taking aim, Arion quickly used his left hand to cover the archer's mouth and he used his right hand sword to slit its throat. Blood sprayed all over the snow as the archer fell to its knees while making a gurgling sound and Arion quickly pulled out his second sword and he charged right into the fray.
The Grey Warden Duelist became a whirling storm of flashing steel as his twin swords moved with a fluid grace. Darkspawn who yet did not know of his presence soon found out as their heads were parted from their necks or arteries were rent open. Both of the blades which he carried were enchanted with two runes of Momentum which granted him extra speed and a Paragon Silverite Rune which was especially effective against the Darkspawn.
Delivering a Dual-sweep which simultaneously cut down two Genlocks to his side and a below the belt kick which struck a Hurlock in the crotch, he then swung both blades in reverse gripped scissoring strike that decapitated the unfortunate Darkspawn. As more of the monstrous things attacked him, he saw two Darkspawn quickly go down with arrows to the eyes and he heard the shattering of glass as flasks filled with corrosive acids broke on the exposed heads of Hurlocks and dousing their comrades in a burning alchemical mixture. The attack of the Wardens was both swift and brutal as bodies fell to the ground.
Jumping back to avoid the overhead slash of a great sword, he came face to face with the Hurlock Commander who wore a hideous tabard-like piece of clothing that looked to be made from crudely stitched, human flesh. Underneath its fearsome horned helmet and the glittering eyes which peered through its visor, Arion could see the calculating intellect that gleamed within. The Darkspawn Commander raised it great sword upwards into an aggressive stance with both hands holding on to the hilt and it loudly roared before charging him with the tip of the blade pointing towards him.
Bracing himself for the possibility of meeting the Hurlock's charge head on, he saw a swift, shadowy movement from behind which the Darkspawn seemed to sense. Spinning around with its great sword following it, the Hurlock Commander struck only air as Cortez ducked underneath the swing and he thrust his twin daggers up into the Darkspawn's armpits which were protected by a cloth-like material. The Antivan Assassin's poisoned blades slipped into the flesh of the Hurlock and when he pulled his weapons out, foul blood gushed out in a torrent before the venom set in an killing it immediately.
The remaining Darkspawn were for a moment stunned by the death of their leader but the Wardens did not give the monsters time to recover and already, they were quick to go back on the assault. Regrouping with Garth and Cortez whose blades were now coated in Darkspawn blood, the three Grey Wardens fought as a group with each man watching out for the other while arrows from Anna still found their marks. Like wheat brought before a scythe, the monsters were cut down in droves by the swift blades of the Wardens and the single knight who now stood upon a small mound of corpses.
The Darkspawn soon renewed their assault upon the party of Wardens and the knight, the former of which were of course prepared for such a thing and soon the night air was filled with the din of battle.
Roanoke buried his axe into the neck of another Darkspawn before kicking the monster to the cavern floor and he swung it up towards another. His axe struck the shield of one of the taller Darkspawn which also carried a cruel looking, curved sword in its hands. The Darkspawn countered by slamming its shield into the face of Roanoke whose vision blackened for a moment as agony coursed through his skull.
'Da!' came the voice of his daughter and he briefly heard the whistle of an arrow which was followed by a shout of pain. As his vision cleared up, Roanoke saw the sword and shield wielding Darkspawn collapse to its knees with an arrow lodged into one side of its neck and the tip protruding from the other.
Looking to his daughter and briefly wishing to thank her, Roanoke saw one of the smaller Darkspawn leap out from the shadows towards Alfhild with twin dagger. 'Behind you!' he shouted with terror filling his heart and he saw his daughter turn around in time to catch a glimpse of her attacker. The Darkspawn then brought its daggers down upon Alfhild who gasped and tried to take a step back but ended up tripping and falling on her rump.
Roanoke saw the blades barely miss his daughter's neck as she fell and had she not tripped and just stood there for less than a second longer, the daggers would have struck home. As much as he wanted to go and protect his daughter, he found that he could not for the Darkspawn and his battling clansmen blocked his path…
With eyes widened in fear, Alfhild saw the hideous, stocky creature advancing towards her with two daggers held in a reverse grip. She could see its sharp, bestial teeth which grinned at her with its ugly flat face, bald, spotted scalp, pointy ears and its eyes reminded her too much of a serpent's own. Having dropped her bow when she fell, Alfhild reached for her hunting knife which was still placed in its leather sheath over the left side of her waist.
The monster then leapt towards her with its arms raised and its maw widely opened to let loose a feral roar of bloodlust. Crawling back and trying to get away from the monster as it drew closer, Alfhild's heart began to beat as quickly as a drum and with such force that a small part of her feared that it would just explode underneath her breast. Drawing her knife which seemed pitifully small against the short yet bulky monster, she knew that her chances did not look too good now, she tightened the grip on her weapon and Alfhild watched with perfect, horrid clarity as her attacker plunged its daggers towards her and how she saw a heavy metallic object flying towards her attacker's head.
With a loud smack of metal upon flesh, Alfhild saw the head of the monster explode in a shower of bone and gristle with each gruesome piece clattering against the ground and the caverns walls like pieces of ice. The body of the monster was knocked to the ground by the impact from what to her surprise was the hammer of the old man they had found. A slow clatter of plates came from the direction of the fire where a shadowed figure rose and she saw the stranger walk towards his thrown weapon.
She saw that the old man whom her father believed was a shaman, now radiated with an aura of white fire that sent a chill into her veins. One of the old man's eyes was blind and milky white while the other was green in color yet there was something about it which looked more like the eye of a beast rather than a man. She heard the old man whisper something in a foreign tongue she did not understand as he picked up his hammer and she began to feel a strange tingling sensation.
Alfhild's fear of the monsters was soon replaced by an blind hatred and rage which began to cloud her thoughts. Baring her teeth and snarling like an animal with a pent up fury she could not explain, she saw the old man throw his head back and he unleashed a loud wolf-like howl that drowned out the sound of the battle. Red filled the vision of Alfhild as she got back up to her feet and she held her knife in a reverse grip while grabbing one of the daggers from her attacker.
Before she knew it, Alfhild was already in the thick of the fighting with her knife and dagger becoming slick with dark, burning blood. She barely noticed the similar change that had fallen upon her fellow clan members, she did not see the faces twisted in savage fury nor the number of things she killed. All that filled the mind of the young girl was the desire to kill and to rend the flesh of these things that dared to attack her clan.
Delivering a mighty swing that crushed the skull of another monster, Lothaire finally saw that their numbers began to thin out. Feeling a small measure of relief, the Paladin pushed himself further despite the pain and exhaustion to keep on fighting. The white cloaked figures of whom were also battling against the mutants, fought with an amazing degree of coordination and teamwork that was like a watching a band of expert duelists working in concert.
Confident that these figures were at least human as well, the Paladin turned his attention back to killing things with his mace. Another of the taller mutants came at him with a great axe held high over its head and Lothaire thrust his weapon towards it like a spear and he crushed the breastplate it wore along with its ribcage and it fell to the bloodied ground. The Paladin then delivered a coup-de-grace by smashing the side of its skull with a low swing and he quickly went on the offensive again and he killed more and more of the monsters until finally those who remained began to flee the Paladin and the white cloaked strangers.
Allowing the monsters to flee, Lothaire gave himself a moment to catch his breath as he still felt the adrenaline coursing through his system and he noticed that the strangers were likewise allowing the things to run. Soon the campsite was filled only with the burning campfire and cooling corpses as a tense silence fell upon them. Lowering his bloodied mace and resting its head upon the corpse-strewn, snowy ground, the Paladin quietly offered a prayer in thanks to the Lady for his survival before he would begin to tend to his wound.
Taking a seat on the body of one monster and using his mace to help set himself down, Lothaire winced in pain for there was still a crossbow bolt lodged into his left thigh and he had also been struck several times with swords, axes and bludgeoning weapons. He softly cursed, as he suddenly remembered that he left his healing draughts and other medicinal items which were in the satchels attached to his steed's saddle. Hoping to the Lady that she would be kind enough to grant him a blessing to stave off infection and disease until his wounds were cleaned and healed, Lothaire sometimes wished that he could make use of holy powers like the priests could like a healing one.
'Hail there Ser Knight' came the voice of one of the strangers who spoke in a thickly accented Breton and Lothaire saw one of the three cloaked individuals come towards him with blades sheathed. The stranger then pulled down the hood of his cloak to reveal a fair skinned man with shoulder-length brown hair, a thick stubble and eyes of a similar colour.
Lothaire nodded and replied with a bit of caution 'Hail and well met stranger, may I ask where we are at the moment and what were those foul things?' The white cloaked stranger gave Lothaire a questioning and somewhat surprised look and at a closer notice, the Paladin noticed the equipment which the stranger wore and he guessed that the man and his companions must be rangers.
'You… you don't know where you are?' asked the white cloaked fellow and the Paladin also noticed the other strangers pulling down their hoods and at least they looked human enough as well.
'I do not, that is why I am asking' said Lothaire who at the corner of his eye, he also noticed an incoming fourth ranger wielding a bow.
'We are in the frozen realms south of Ferelden, Ser Knight' the ranger then said which drew the curiosity of Lothaire who had never even heard of a country called Ferelden. 'It is best if you head up north and join the muster for the Darkspawn are no doubt preparing for another Blight upon the lands' added the ranger.
'Darkspawn? Blight?' questioned Lothaire who had also never heard of creatures called the Darkspawn, surely they must be facing some form of Chaos Mutants? Could it be that he was somewhere close to the dreaded Chaos Wastes?
One of the rangers, a swarthy skinned man who had the look of an Estalian then said something to the first man in a foreign tongue and he noticed that the other ranger, a rather shifty looking, bald headed man with pale skin and tattoos was also looking about the area with caution. A brief word was passed between them and Lothaire could have sworn that he heard them speaking in the language used by the barbarian people of Albion.
'We must leave now Ser Knight' announced the ranger he had talked to in a rather urgent tone 'we will tend to your wounds for now but we must go afterwards.'
There must be more of the fiends coming then thought the Paladin for while he had no fear of fighting more of the things, he was currently not in any condition to fight at full strength. Lothaire then nodded to the ranger and he saw the bald headed man move towards him while pulling out a leather case which looked to contain a number of medical tools. Oh great thought Lothaire a bit caustically, a trip to the Barber Surgeon, wonderful...
Breathing heavily as the rage which had consumed him begun to fade, Roanoke looked about with sheer surprise at the number of dead Darkspawn that were strewn around them. His leather gloves were slick with the blood of the creatures and his axe was even more notched and scratched than before as the viscous liquid dripped from its edge. His clansmen seemed just as confused and surprised as well when they saw the ruin they had wrought upon the Darkspawn who all now lay still and unmoving with the bodies of their kin strewn amongst the dead.
Men and women soon began to call to their fallen, checking to see who was still alive and who had wounds that needed tending to. He then looked about with alarm to see if Alfhild was all right and his heart was filled with relief when he saw his daughter seated on one side of the cavern and feeling the side of her forehead where only a small bump had lightly swollen up. His daughter then looked to him with relief as well and she called to him and asked if he was injured as well and his response was simply just having a mere flesh wound.
Among those of his clansmen who could still stand, he was glad to see Nilsine tending to a wounded Erling with a medicinal salve. As he moved to help the nearest of his injured clansmen, he heard the sound of metal plates jangling from the direction towards the cave entrance and he saw the old man head towards them with a Darkspawn blood spattering his armor and the foul head of one of the taller creatures was tightly clenched in one hand. The eyes of many of the hunters fell upon the old man who gave them an impassive look before speaking in a tongue he knew not the meaning.
'Did you see him da?' asked Alfhild with a bit of fear as glanced towards the old man 'he used magic on us.'
Superstitious fear began to fill the mind of Roanoke as their suspicions about the old man being a shaman was just confirmed, he wasn't sure if he should be thanking the gods just yet. The old man then asked something toward them in his language again and none among their clan understood. They met his speech with silence as the shaman said something again and it was only now that Roanoke noticed that the old man was blind in one eye and yet the sheer intensity from the other one made him feel like a rabbit cornered by a wolf.
The shaman then turned his gaze towards Alvor who had last held on to the old man's horn and the clansman was quick to return the object which the old man quietly took. Another unknown series of words were then spoken by the old man which also seemed like a question.
'I have no idea what you are saying' said Roanoke out loud towards the old man who fixed his one eye upon them. Again the old man said something unknown to them and when neither Roanoke nor his other clansmen said anything in response, he seemed to have just given up.
The old man then quietly began to watch them for a moment before he moved towards the fire where just a while ago, they had been preparing their meals. The old man retrieve his wolf-skull mask a which he placed over his face. Questions filled the mind of Roanoke about who this shaman was but first things first, his clansmen needed him.
He hoped that they could leave the cave soon though for he could see how badly injured some of his clansmen were and some even looked like they would need to be carried out. They needed to inform the Thane and the clan's shaman of the Darkspawn threat so close to their current campsight. Organizing everyone else to the best of his abilities, Roanoke hoped that the blizzard would subside soon for something told him that they had not seen the last of the Darkspawn.
