147. Denerim: Market District
"Gotta hand it to Branka," Oghren said, sweeping his axe under a charging hurlock, sending it sprawling. "She may be mad as a lyrium miner, but she knew what she was doing with the golems."
Garott snorted agreement, even as he stepped in and put his dagger through the downed hurlock's eye. "Handy buggers, aren't they?" He dodged aside as in ogre charged past them. As if to prove their point, a golem lumbered up and met the ogre head-on. The two locked arms and began grappling... giving Oghren time to walk up behind the ogre and plant his axe in its back.
Garott turned to find the avenue they were pushing through relatively clear, and he nodded to Vartag Gavorn. Bhelen's right-hand man returned the nod and gave a broad hand motion, and a nearby trumpet blared what Garott could only assume was an order to advance.
He ran with the dwarves, a little voice in his head cackling at the fact that he was in a sodding line of Warriors, and he, the Duster who had defiled the Proving, was not only accepted but respected.
Except Bhelen hadn't just sent Warriors for this, funnily enough. It seemed the king had already begun his forceful restructuring of Orzammar society. Garott spotted not a few Merchant haircuts among the forces, and those dwarves holding the golem control rods were definitely Smiths. And, wouldn't you know it, he even noticed a smattering of casteless brands, at the part of the line where the fighting was dirtiest.
The sodding bastard had done it. He'd gone and let dusters into the army, and probably fought the Assembly tooth and nail for it too. Sure, it may have just been a bid to scrounge up more darkspawn fodder, but Garott would count that as a step in the right direction anyway.
They smashed through into the next square. Though they still had a ways before they hit the palace district, this was definitely a fancier neighborhood, to the point where the houses in this area actually looked worth looting, if they hadn't been on a bit of a time crunch. That was progress.
A pair of emissaries waited for them in the middle of the square, and one immediately loosed a surge of chain lightning into the dwarven line. A few of the men laughed, including Garott, and the dwarves collectively shrugged the magic off and charged.
Garott gave the emissary a good hamstring before continuing and leaving it to his bigger, stronger brethren. He hopped over a fountain in the middle of the square, dipped into his pocket, and released a handful of explosive caltrops, just as a trio of genlocks were charging past. They stumbled and grunted against the popping things, and Garott swung his hand-axe into the back of one's neck.
The other two recovered more quickly than he'd predicted, and he found himself stumbling back as one turned and lunged at him. A moment later, both genlocks were blasted aside by a friendly burst of fire.
Garott's bracer caught fire from the blast, and he patted it out. "Little close, don'tcha think, elf?"
Kazar emerged from the press with a smirk. He idly sent a puff of nature magic at a shriek across the square, and a tangle of vines sprang from the ground to bind it. The nearby dwarves leapt upon it like a pack of deepstalkers upon carrion.
"It's what I like about fighting alongside dwarves," Kazar said, moving to stand next to Garott. "I don't have to be as careful with my aim."
"Kazar, really," Wynne's voice could be heard scolding from nearby, but Garott was hard pressed to say where.
An ogre rumbled past, slamming into a line of dwarves and roaring. A volley of spells, slung from a small group of mages near an alley, turned its attention from the dwarves. It roared and started toward them, but a pair of Templars moved in to block its progress.
Garott sighed. "We better get on that."
"Yeah," Kazar groaned reluctantly. Then, he waved both arms and burst of lightning shot out of him, making the ogre seize up. Garott and two other dwarves were on top of the ogre before it had even stopped sparking. Garott got the credit for the kill though... he did as he'd once seen a certain crazy elf do: he got up on its back with his hand-axe acting as climbing pick, and nested on the back of its neck behind its horns.
It tossed its head uselessly back and forth, and Garott just laughed and brought his dagger down in its eye. It fell, throwing him about eight feet away to land in a rolling heap, and Kazar started laughing.
The horn signaled to advance again, and the dwarves and mages continued on.