Disclaimer: We do not own The Elder Scrolls or Dragon Age Series
Co-Author and Beta: Etheral-23
The Deep Roads: Lost
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The scent of carnage-filled the confined spaces of the Deep Road tunnels, with bodies of darkspawn piling upon each other as they dropped dead, slain by spell or blade, or both. Starfang's luminescence was not impeded by the dark, tainted blood coating its edge, and it slid off its meteoric blade with each swing. Miara's toned arms rippled under her armor as she grasped the blade's handle with both hands. Decades of wielding two swords made Starfang's cutting blows all the more devastating as she focused all her strength on each swing. Biting frost exploded from the wounds inflicted upon dark flesh while gusts of icy winds sent them flying away.
A path of blood and viscera was left in her wake. Yet not all had been her doing; her able-bodied companions pulled their weight and protected their wounded, creating a wall between them and the Darkspawn with stalwart resolve.
...And yet the resulting gore from the fight could, in large part, be attributed to one in particular. One Warden was fighting not for his friends but to slaughter every single Blighter that entered his gaze.
It had been horrifying to witness the elf transform with each Darkspawn slain. Strips of leather and mail were all that remained of Gin's gear, broken and torn as they could no longer fit around a body that had grown too large, too monstrous.
The scales had no place in an elf's body, much less the oddly proportioned limbs and the twisted pulsating muscle mass that had turned him into something unsightly.
The sounds that came from his mouth, filled with new rows of teeth that sharpened into fangs, could not come from a mortal.
In the chaos, he fled, blind in his fury as he sought more to slaughter.
And it had been Miara's fault.
She had turned Gin into this.
She grunted with fury as she stabbed a Darkspawn that crawled upon the ground for safety, letting out one last gasp as the sword pierced from back to front. Miara let out a few soft pants as she saw the last of the Darkspawn falling or retreating, giving room for their friends to look after their wounded again. The dunmer turned, watching her beloved slowly rise from the ground, rubbing her jaw with a groan.
"Gin's got a mean hook now..." Serana grunted as she twisted her neck, making a loud popping sound as she set something into place. Her attempt at approaching and calming the transforming elf was met with a strike that took her by surprise.
Marcus and Alistair stared at the aftermath of the dismembered bodies of the Blighters and their cursed blood everywhere. Vividly, they recall the last few moments as they saw... The creature that Gin became wreaked havoc like an unstoppable demon. Slowly, the Cousland turned his attention to Miara, who turned her attention back to the slaughter before them. "What the fuck happened to Tabris!?"
Guilt bloomed on the Goddess's face, "Drinking divine blood is always the flip of a coin in what the results will be." Her crimson eyes peered over to the young man remorsefully, "For Gin, it was the worst outcome."
Gods damn it! Why did it have to end up like that?!
Having gotten his bearings, Theron got to his feet thanks to Loke. His eyes fixed on the Dragonborn, "Can he be saved?" For a long moment, there was only silence, "Miara!" Brianna also drew concern beside a limping Sereda and half-conscious Wynne.
The Doom Driven sharply turned her head to the Dalish, "We have to catch up to Gin as fast as we can, but we don't have much-" A roar brought the group to silence as it almost shook the area.
But it was not from Gin... As the familiar sensation coursed through the veins of Bri, Alistair, and Theron. Oh, their damn luck could not get that much worse, could it!? As if the universe answered, a large darkspawn Hurlock Alpha in blackened metal with a large warhammer charged through the hole its kin made to attack their prey. Lesser Genlocks and hurlocks followed it, and of course...
The beast that made the roar was an ogre behind the new wave of Blighters that came for them. Within moments, Miara and Serana rushed the coming horde with their blades and magic at the ready. But not alone, with Marcus and Alistair joining the fray with Loke's fangs coming for a Genlock. With a wave of her hands, Brianna created an arcane barrier over herself, Wynne, and Sereda while Theron quickly grabbed his bow and let loose several arrows in quick succession.
The dalish archer clicked his tongue in frustration. Gin was out there, losing his mind and body in a dangerous metamorphosis in the middle of Thedas' most dreaded underground. Whatever power he could have, as evidenced by the slaughter he had carried out, would not save him forever, where Darkspawn could emerge endlessly.
They needed to get him to Miara now.
But they couldn't abandon their comrades in need. And Miara could guarantee their safety.
Deciding swiftly, Theron approached Miara, moving in between the confusion of the battle before standing back to back with the dunmer. The elves covered each other as they spun in place, Miara's blade cutting down any darkspawn that drew close while his bow shot those further away. "I can track Gin!" He called out, letting loose another arrow. "You stay here with the others!"
"What? No!" Miara shook her head. Swiping her hand, she created a swath of flame that consumed three Darkspawns coming toward her. "I'm the only one who can calm him down!"
"You're needed here to keep the others safe!" Theron insisted, "I'll restrain him if I have to!"
"You have no idea how dangerous Gin is now, Theron! He could kill you!"
Theron grunted, "Do you really look so down on us mortals? You think me incapable of helping my friend?!"
"He's my responsibility!"
"He's ours!" Theron turned the woman around, their height difference being negligible enough that his green eyes could stare directly into her red ones. "I promise you, I'll find him and keep him safe!"
"It's not his safety that worries me!" Miara shook her head.
"You're right," Theron solemnly said, "It should be theirs." He waved his bow at Brianna, who was doing her best to keep the barrier standing even as Darkspawn relentlessly attacked. Wynne and Sereda were still unable to help, and they could only watch in worry and frustration as their comrades fought.
"He's right, Miara!" Serana shouted, unleashing a wave of frost in the worm of an icy arc full of spikes that pierced several darkspawn at once, keeping these two protected. "We're needed here!"
Miara's gaze shifted through a myriad of emotions before sighing. "Fine!" She turned around once more and brought her blade to bear on the Darkspawn again. "We'll open a path, find Gin, and don't let him out of your sight!" The dunmer looked over her shoulder at the dalish, "He'll try to kill you. You understand that, right?! Gin's mind is lost amidst a sea of fury!"
"I understand!"
With those words said and the conviction shown in his eyes, Miara relented soon, pressing against the Darkspawn beside her beloved. Following their lead, Marcus and Alistair slashed and cut through Blighters that rushed them. A fireball blasted from the Dragonborn's free hand, blasting the head off a Hurlock. Starfang sang through each slash. Serana moved like the wind with her father's katana and ice spikes tearing through the Darkspawn.
Marcus showed his measure, parrying with his ebony longsword while cleanly severing Hurlock's head with Engeram. His faithful hound leaped into the fray to maul any blighters that tried to attack his master. Despite no emissaries present, Alistair still summoned holy smite, which staggered his foes before slamming his shield into them, running through with his father's blade. The four-plus Mabari hound was steadily creating the opening for Theron, who began to sprint at full speed.
The ogre's howling roar did not deter him from charging. Its hands clasped together to bring down on the Dalish like a hammer. But the Dalish warrior proved faster, sliding in between the massive monster's legs just moments before its hand smashed onto the ground. Theron did not look back as he kept running.
He lost a brother in all blood. He'd be damned if he lost anyone else he grew to call a friend. He will not fail again!
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"Sodding paragon's balls," Oghren groaned/growled, holding his head. "Knew those fucking nug shits were smart, but not that smart!"
"Could you please not yell louder? My head hurts enough," Faren quipped back.
A small relief came from Neria and the others when their dwarven comrades finally regained consciousness. The same was also true for Sarya; how she was, as her twin mentioned, with a concussion as she spoke incoherently and her eyes were glazed over. Neria managed to heal her friend's hurt body and also placed wrapping on the dunmeri's head. Morrigan had somewhat reigned in her emotions to give Sarya a sling for her right arm.
"Oooooh," Sarya cooed while Oryrn gently moved his sister's head to look her in the eyes, "T'chak." She soon giggled like a child.
"Was that even a word?" Zevran questioned with a raised brow.
"It comes from a friend's language," Oryrn answered dryly, staring at his sister, who smiled back.
Neria gave the dunmer one last look over with her magic, gently placing her glowing hand upon Sarya's head. "I prevented lasting damage and healed what I could, but I'm afraid Sarya will be a bit out of it for the time being." She moved a finger in front of the Telvanni mage. "Sarya, can you please follow the finger?"
"Sure!" She said all too happily and a bit exhausted as her eyes made a... decent attempt at following her instructions. "Can you follow this finger?" And made to touch the tip of Neria's nose. "Boop!"
The fact she missed and pressed her hand against Neria's dimple showed she was also lacking in coordination. "Yeah, you're in no shape to be left alone."
"I'll carry my sister," Oryrn offered.
However, Neria rebuked him, "You are still recovering. Sofie, would you-?"
"No problem," The Dragonforged said, giving her younger sister a gentle smile. "I've got the stamina to carry her all the way if I have to."
"Horsey ride~"
"Yes, Sarya, horsey ride."
The sounds of echoing steps down the tunnels put them on alert, but they relaxed when they spotted Sten alongside Bran returning from one passage and Shale in the other. "The right path leads to a dead end," The qunari stoically stated as the hound quickly left his side and went back to Neria, who gently petted him.
"Fortunately, this one goes to where we need to go." The golem pointed at the tunnel it came from. "It will eventually take us to Ortan Thaig."
"Did you see it?" Oryrn questioned.
"No, but I know it's there," Shale simply replied.
That made a few of their party share a look. "How do you know?" Faren asked, tilting his head.
Shale's stony features actually looked surprised, then reflective. "How... do I know?"
Authentic bewilderment; never had anyone among their party that they would have heard it from their stoney companion. "Are you alright, Shale?" Oryrn inquired.
"I..." the golem paused. "I am uncertain. Since coming here, I have felt something stirring within me. But when mentioning Paragon Caridin and the Anvil of the Void, that stirring roused like a fire." It looked at its hands, "Now it refuses to let me be at peace."
The others were silent for a moment; Sarya raised a finger, "Memories!"
...could it be that?
"It is possible you could finally be remembering now that you are here in the Deep Roads." Leliana offered some warm words. "Perhaps finding the Anvil might wake them?"
At those words, the golem paused, staring at the Bard before looking away. "It could be possible."
Neria petted her faithful hound as she stood. "I guess we will find out when we get moving. We get back to the others, then make it to the Anvil."
Everyone agreed to those words, with Sofie coming over and gently picking up her sister, but not before unsheathing her greatsword and handing it to Oryrn so as to piggyback Sarya. Morrigan had come over to help adjust the Dunmeri wizard so her bad arm would not be harmed. The Nord and Bard appreciated the help but looked at the swamp witch oddly, "Never thought you had a side like this?" the redhead inquired.
Morrigan did not respond, but Sarya did: "Because Morri has a heart but was afraid to show it!" The Dark elf beamed, earning the yellow-eyed woman a dry but flustered deadpan.
"Could you please keep quiet?" the raven-haired witch bemoaned, "Let me have whatever dignity I have left."
"There is no shame in showing empathy, you know." Sofie addressed.
"Consider my origins and parentage. Do you think I had such luxuries?" Morrigan's tone was without venom. She had none left to mask herself anymore.
Nobody wanted to discuss that subject. The only one who would have was Sarya, but she wasn't of sane mind to do so.
"We're down our strongest blade with you carrying her," Sten roughly pointed out.
"We can't leave Sarya here or split up," Neria communicated. "I'm afraid that's the best we can do right now. We'll have to manage while keeping Sofie guarded."
"Hmm..." The nord warrior let out a pensive thought as her blue eyes narrowed. "Maybe not. A summoning can take my place."
"Out of the three of us, the only one who can do a long-lasting summon is Sarya," Oryrn pointed out. "And she's in no condition to do so." His twin let out a mumbling sound; if one focused, they could pick up 'Ciri' under her breath. "We lack her Conjuration skills."
"I..." Sofie trailed off, "was thinking of another summon. I can Shout Call of Valor," Oryrn's eyes widened while Sarya rested her head on her sister's shoulder, mumbling out a 'wuh?'
Neria quickly perked up, "A Shout? Can it help?"
"Yes," Sofie nods, "It invokes someone from the great beyond to the mortal world. Powerful warriors from different afterlives can answer our call."
Faren narrows his eyes as he looks at her with a mixture of disbelief and existential horror. "You can just bring someone back from death?"
"N-No, it summons their souls. They take physical form and then leave."
"I'm gonna shelf that under 'yikes' and move on..."
"Sofie, since when do you know that Shout?" Oryrn asked his older sister, more than a little surprised.
"Since... now-ish?" The nord squared her shoulders sheepishly, clenching her teeth in a poor attempt at a smile.
"You've never even attempted it before?" He called out with mounting worry.
"Hey, hey, hey, the worst outcome is that it doesn't work; we lose nothing by trying."
Neria pondered on it for only a few seconds before sighing, "Go for it."
"Okay, um, gonna need some room -and some prayers perhaps-" She cleared her throat, making sure to keep her sister steady while the group made some space for her. Sofie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Hun..."
Hero. The honored dead.
"Kaal"
Champion. Those who hailed as warriors from life and into death.
"Zoor!"
Legend. Whose deeds echoed throughout time.
A glare of light illuminated the dark chamber, making everyone shield their eyes for a second.
When Neria dared look again, she gasped in awe at the wings of pure golden sunlight spreading. The light dimmed as it slowly revealed a figure.
More ethereal than physical, with a golden hue from the back of a human woman in golden heavy armor mixed with leathers unknown in design by those who hail from Thedas. But to those from Tamriel, they recognized Systres Guardian armor common from High Isle. But the person who wore it as she was as close as family to the Redorans.
She stood equal in height to Morrigan, with a shield in one hand, a sword in the other, and an athletic warrior's figure matched with feminine curves. Fair-skinned with a slight tan, an average but lovely face, and raven locks in a braided crown. Her wings dimed but did not fade, and darkness was lightly illuminated, but for a moment, it fled once more, "Righteous Stendarr, let your holy light shine upon these noble warriors," She cried, sheathing her sword and lifting an armored glove hand for a candlelight spell to brighten the area. The woman's obsidian eyes land upon the one who summoned her. "Sofie?" She paused, "Why are you carrying Sarya?" said dunmeri Telvanni, cheered 'Auntie Izzy' before slumping her head on her sister's shoulder.
Relief came from Oryrn, "It is good to see you again, Aunt Isobel."
"Oryrn?" The woman quickly approached Sofie, looking over at Sarya, who drowsily winked back. "What has happened?" Concern bloomed in her voice.
"Quite a lot," Sofie huffed with a wary grin. "I can fill you in along the way." She turned her sapphires to the Thedosian party. "Everyone, this is Isobel Veloise, a cherished friend of our family."
"Hello~!" Isobel waved merrily before looking at Oghren and Faren, dumbfounded. "Are these gnomes?"
"They are dwarves," Oryrn corrected, earning a surprised but confused look from the Breton knight.
"Dwemer came back as short human people?"
"No completely separate race."
"Ooooh."
The sense of mysticism surrounding the woman went down a notch as she awkwardly shifted, clearing her throat before placing a fist on her breastplate. "Greetings and salutations; I stand here as a humble servant of Reymon Ebonarm; may his blade bring justice upon the wicked!"
"Who?" Zevran questioned as his brow furrowed.
"Oh, the God of War and patron of knights errant."
"My elven Mother's oldest brother, by the way," Oryrn saw fit to explain.
Leliana clenched the Silver Sword of Mercy around her neck. There it was again—all those doubts, all those intrusive thoughts she refused to entertain. She thought she had pushed it all away when she and Sofie started their relationship. Being with the warrior felt natural and grounded; she didn't have to think about the fact that her mother was a divinity.
Yet it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore when, time after time, there was a reminder—another sign that all but screamed, 'Where is your Maker?'
He just... wasn't here.
She had witnessed Miara's 'divine form,' and while that one had been frightening and intimidating, looking at this woman's wings felt humbling and comforting. The light that radiated for her was as physical as it was spiritual, making her feel at ease...
And it gnawed at her that her faith in the Maker and His Bride didn't comfort her in this dire moment—not like it used to.
"You're an angel," The bard muttered.
"Oh, cause of the-?" The woman looked back at her folded golden wings before dismissing them with a shrug into motes of light. "Well, technically, I'm one of the Ebonarm's Warbound, but yes, pretty much. Angel is fitting!"
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The shouts and roar of combat grew distant behind the Dalish as he ran further into the Deep Roads. While admittedly, Theron was a better tracker in a forest environment. He was a swift learner in adaptation, and the greatest warrior in Clan Sabrae was not an empty boast. He had soon found Gin's trail, along with the dismembered corpses of a dozen or more of Darkspawn.
Blood soaked every corner, every path, with visceral alongside it.
But the horror did not deter the Dalish warrior; he pressed forward, following the bodies where he hoped they would lead him to their friend. Though faint despair came when images of Tamlen's half-transformed form invaded Theron's mind, he shoved it away. This would not be like that; by all the Gods, he would not let another tragedy happen again!
Theron had long come out of the tunnel made by the Blighter and into an open area of buildings and statues in various conditions following the trial of bodies whose wounds were growing more savage-like. His pace slowed upon hearing a guttural, pained roar that sounded like two voices mixed.
One dragon-like. One... Gin!
Coming to a large, half-destroyed building, he stopped and hid beside a large statue. The warrior's heart raced but calmed it as he focused on himself. No matter what awaited him, this was Gin. And he was going to save him. Keeping his steps as silent as possible, he made his way around the statue and towards the building, hearing more pained groans inside.
Theron stopped with his brow rising above his bangs as he looked up... And up... To see the large muscular back that was covered in stony black scales. Horns of varying sizes were on... Gin's shoulders and elbows. As well on his head, his hair had grown longer and down his back. The poor man was hunched forward, on his knees, with his claw-like hands on his face.
Theron steeled himself, carefully approaching. He didn't want to draw his blades on a friend, but given Gin's state, he still kept a hand on one of the handles strapped to his waist. "Gin?" Theron called out in concern.
The transformed elf snapped in his direction, and Theron winced at the sight of half of Gin's face twisting into something monstrous, the bones elongating unevenly as the scales erupted like spikes under his skin. The deformity in his features was contrasted by how the other side of his face remained relatively untouched, but the slow spread of black that advanced like slow, thick tar over his body indicated his body would not remain uneven for long.
Gin snarled at him, growling and making panting noises; the breaths coming from his throat sounded like air filtered through a metallic surface. His face twitched and switched from grimace to pain to anger in a cycle without rhyme or rhythm. One eye was red and slit like a dragon's; the other amber-eyed remained normal for the time being.
"Gin, it's me." He held up a hand in the universal placating gesture. "Theron. I can help you."
Gin huffed, starting at the hand as he kept a hunched posture.
"I can take you to Miara," He said earnestly. "We can give you the help you need" A few steps more, he was about to make contact. "It's going to be alri-"
Gin swiped at Theron with a deranged growl, fingers that had been sharpened into claws went for his hand, and it was only thanks to Theron's great reflexes that he pulled back just in time, backing away with a back flip before landing crouched on the floor.
Theron grimaced, locking his eyes back on his comrade, who roared monstrously at him as he took a stance on all fours like an animal clawing at the floor.
"...I really wanted to avoid doing this the hard way."
Gin, however, did not seem to care about what Theron wanted before lunging at his fellow elf with frighteningly fast reflexes for his newfound size. His claw-like hands swiped and slashed at the Dalish warrior, who ducked, dashed, and waved around each attack. Keeping himself a good distant away from his transformed friend.
A roar came from Tabris, who kept thrashing but missed just inches away from his prey, barely nicking the armor Ilen and Varathorn had made for the Dalish warrior.
"Come on, Gin!" Theron shouted, "You are not a monster! I know you are in there!" He unsheathed his sword moments before Gin's claws shot forward, and he could not dodge. Spark flew till Theron leaped back to give himself space again. "Talk to me!"
Pain and rage surged through the city elf as he paused in his attacks for a moment. The half of his face that was still elven gazed pleadingly. Theron shook his head as he saw Talmen's face instead with that same look. "I won't kill you! I swore to get you back to Miara!"
Gin held his head before roaring once more and lunged again at the Dalish.
Theron did not want to attack Gin, but he was running out of options. His friend's mind was lost in a frenzy, overcome by a maddened bloodlust just as Miara had warned him. The dragon was taking over, and Gin needed to be brought under control.
He dodged one of the clawed fingers swiping at him, yet a bit of irritation lingered at his chin. Theron felt a faint trail of blood roll down and understood that if he didn't go on the offensive, then Gin would eventually kill him.
Taking a deep breath, Theron steadied himself before suddenly dashing towards the dragonified elf, ducking under the massive scaly arm lashing out at him; his blades cut through the sides of Gin's torso, drawing a trail of blood and causing Gin to roar in pain. Theron stepped back to gain some distance, twirling his blades to clean the blood off them; his keen eyes looked over the wound he had inflicted on his comrade. It was painful but not lethal. He just needed to keep piling up the damage to debilitate him enough.
Gin's form was tough, and his vitality was undoubtedly superior right now. He could take it.
Then Gin roared and breathed fire on him; Theron quickly moved out of the way, taking refuge behind a wall, feeling the flames trail over its surface and lightly singe the edges of his skin from the heat alone. When the flames stopped, his ears picked up stomp coming his way, so he rolled out of the way when Gin charged straight through, breaking the wall on his path.
The feral elf was briefly confused before snarling and looking around for Theron. The dalish took some distance and hid behind a collapsed section of the building, taking out his bow and aiming. Gin growled when an arrow pierced his calf, then again when another punctured an area beneath his left hamstring. Theron let out two more shots at Gin's shoulders, each strike weakening him without seriously wounding him, at least not to someone of his size and musculature.
The draconic elf growled, ripping the shafts off his body without actually removing the metal tips properly. He roared and charged at him like a beast, running on all fours like a beast. Theron ran, directing Gin towards the large dwarven statue, making sure the other elf was hot on his trail, waiting until the last moment before jumping, stepping over the statue in a short wall-run before propelling himself away at the last moment when Gin lunged for him, letting him collide with the statue as Theron spun in the air before touching down safely.
The Dalish warrior was shocked to witness Gin not being stopped by the sculpture but instead tearing through it like parchment. The monument crumbled and broke apart around the transforming elf; he swatted the falling pieces, breaking them into chucks, with his fury-eyed gaze shifting back to Theron.
He needed a new strategy.
Theron's eyes did not leave his companion's as he began walking out of the pile of broken statues. "Gin... Who are you fighting to protect most!? How you became a Warden aside, who did you vow you would always keep safe from the Blighters and other evils!?"
A pause came from the hulking behemoth with recognition from the elven side of Gin's face. Pain shot through his head once more as he shook it with both hands holding it. Within the City, Elf's mind was awash with an unending inferno that blocked out all thoughts and reasoning. He felt nothing but pain, rage, and the need to destroy everything.
But those words from Theron were like a beacon that was forcing something through the chaos within Gin. A roar came from the elf as he unleashed a torrent of flames from his mouth at the Dalish Warden. Theron quickly dodged, but he did not relent with his words as he saw them working. "Push through this rage! Remember the person you cherish most! Would they want to see you like this!?"
Once more, Gin paused, pain racking his head. Blurred images were pushing through the chaos; he could faintly hear a voice along with them. Muffled but getting stronger.
...Gin...
Gin...
Her short red hair jostled in the wind of the alienage, and her almond eyes gazed at him with warmth and love. Standing near the Vhenadahl.
Gin!
Now, her gaze was that of terror as flames engulfed the Alienage around her and closed in on her. Her hand outstretched towards the flames soon rising onto her body.
GIN!
"SHIANNI!" Gin roared with tears streaming from his eyes.
Theron's instincts and reflexes pushed him to capitalize on this chance. His hand went to his pouch, pulling exactly the right vial he needed. Years of braving the wilds had taught the dalish many ways to deal with beasts. How to track them, how to avoid them, how to kill them, how to soothe them, how to weaken them. The right tool for the right task.
The vial flew from his grasp, shattering over Gin's warped face. Its contents emanated a powerful aroma that soon hit the elf's nostrils. He snarled and snorted as though choking on something; he fell to one knee, one sharp hand clawing at the ground while the other went to his throat. He repeatedly coughed as his gaze grew blurry from tears, and the gases were also burning his eyes.
Theron moved faster than his body could allow and jumped over Gin's hunched back, carefully avoiding the sharp spikes and scales. His blade twirled on his hand and brought down the handle upon Gin's head.
The elf buckled under the blow but didn't go down. Gin roared and sluggishly swiped his arms at the dalish on top of him. But his dazed state from the beast-repellent vial and the blow to his head made it difficult for the transformed city elf to strike at Theron. Theron grunted, holding on for dear life as he repeatedly brought his weapon's pommel over Gin's head. It was like hitting solid rock; Gin could handle it; Theron just needed him to go down.
"Just," The dalish growled, swiveling from side to side as Gin tried to shake him off. "Go," Another strike and both of Gin's knees buckled this time. "To sleep!"
One final impact cracked upon Gin's skull, and the draconic elf let out a choked whine before falling face-first on the ground.
Theron fell forward, rolled off Gin, and fell onto the stony ground, stumbling with exhaustion. By the gods, his body had never felt this sore, and he was only evading Gin's aggression. But it took every ounce of his will to avoid being struck! He wiped the sweat off his brow with his free hand before sheathing his sword. The Dalish tensely heard a groaning whine from his fallen friend. Thankfully, that was not him stirring again.
But he wasted no time as he pulled out the rope he carried in the larger pouch attached to his belt. Theron's eyes took in again how much Gin's form had changed. "I pray Miara can fix this."
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
A piercing, pain-filled roar came from the ogre, with its tainted blood spraying from the stumps where its arms should have been. Its evil existence was swiftly ended with Starfang's blade impaling the beast through the skull from its jaw. The blade soon moved faster than the wind itself, exiting the head and severing it from the neck.
Miara glanced back at her lover, who had finished the Hurlock Alpha: "Go find Theron and Gin!" Marcus and Alistair were finishing off the last Darkspawn, and Loke sniffed around at the corpses.
Those were the only words that needed to be said before the Dragonborn dashed away with unimaginable speed. The future king of Ferelden watched the dunmeri woman speed away, "By the Maker, I never seen her fight like that."
"Because Gin's life is in the balance, and there is no time to fool around," Serana spoke plainly, cleaning her blade with a fire spell.
"A little bloody help over here, please!" Brianna called out as she put down her shield spell to work on Wynne and Sereda. "Our dwarf friend needs her foot set back into place!" The way that sounded did not put the said dwarven women at ease.
"I'll be fine," Wynne panted, already channeling a small amount of her magic to help her recovery. "Focus on Sereda..."
The dwarven warrior hissed through her teeth in ragged pants, her left foot painfully twisted in another direction. "Fuuuuuck," She groaned as Serana knelt at her side to inspect her. "Tell me you got magic for this...!"
"Vampires and healing magic don't mix," Serana said apologetically while rummaging through her pouch. "Have drugs, though." She offered the dwarf a small vial that was promptly snatched from her grasp and drank without a moment's hesitation.
Sereda sighed, letting the vial fall from her grasp as the pain in her foot lessened considerably. Her heart was no longer beating like a war drum in her ears, and she felt lighter overall. "Ancestors bless you..."
"Okay, now to set this in place," the vampire said as she carefully took hold of Sereda's armored foot. "On the count of three. Ready—" No sooner had that word left her lips than she snapped the foot back into position.
"Hng!" Sereda stiffened at the sharp burst of pain, but it was a far cry from the agony she would have felt were it not for Serana's potion dulling her. She let one last exhausted breath, leaning her head back on the ground.
More relief came from Brianna's hands, with a golden glow of healing magic focused on her ankle. "This will at least get you back walking. But you might be limping a little," Amell admitted.
"As long as I can fight," the exiled princess quipped, feeling the ache in her muscles and tendons lessen.
Alistair sheathed his blade and came to help Wynne stand long enough to find a stony rock on which to sit down. The senior enchanter tried to focus her healing magic on herself, but her hands shook, and she was plagued by mild dizziness. "Do you need anything?" the former Templar questioned. He saw minor scraps and bruising on the woman's face, with blood dripping in spots.
Before the older woman could respond, healing magic coursed through her body from Brianna, who returned to her side. "I got her," those were all the future king needed to hear from the buxom brunette, and he walked back to Marcus and Loke.
Focus was returning to Wynne as her blurry sight returned to normal and seeing Bri tending to her so diligently. This brought a sense of shock to the senior enchanter, "I did not think you would even help me."
Amell paused, raising her gaze to the older woman, "Did you really think I'd let you stay injured or let you die?"
"...But you hate me."
"Just because I hate someone doesn't mean I'll let them die unless they are like Uldred or other assholes. I have a conscience, Wynne. And if you believed me to be so petty to allow you to stay hurt or die, then you never understood me." Once Brianna knew she was finished, she rose to stand, "Grow up, Wynne." And with those words, Amell returned her attention to Sereda, who sat up with some help from Marcus.
The senior enchanter was along with her thoughts as she observed the younger mage... Was she really... so blind to the truth?
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
The knot in Miara's gut only grew tighter, seeing the carnage that she knew was the result of Gin. She could smell his transformed blood in the air and feel his burning soul was like a beacon to her as she neared dwarven ruins far away from the dismembered blighters. She leaped over the remains of a statue and came to a stop.
She did not know what she had expected, but the sight of a half-transformed unconscious Gin tied up in thick ropes was not one of them. Her crimson eyes noticed Theron sitting on the ground close by, slumped forward and unmoving. The fire goddess soon knelt beside the Dalish warrior, "Theron..."
The man was unresponsive for a moment, his hair cloaking his face. He grunted when he felt a hand on his shoulder, rousing him from his exhausted slumber. Turning his head, his blurry vision focused on the sight of Ysmir. "What kept you?" Theron's voice was soft and tired.
Faint humor came to Miara before astonishment returned, "You were able to take Gin down." It was more a statement than a question.
"For a goddess who loves mortals, you don't seem to have much faith in us."
... Miara stared at the Dalish before chuckling, "You're right. I apologize."
Theron waved it off, "Save him, and we're even." He blinked, seeing his fellow elf put two glass vials in his hand, which she had taken from one of her pouches.
"To heal any wounds and your exhaustion." Without another word, Miara darted over to Gin.
He looked monstrous, with his body deformed and halfway transformed into a creature with dragon attributes. Half his face was warping. Miara had seen horrible sights in her time, but this one was making her ill because she was responsible. She gave him her blood in an attempt to save his life, but the cost...
She couldn't even begin to understand what his poor mind was going through. Tearing itself apart under wild instincts and blood lust, destroying his personality, and being devoured by a dragon.
She supposed it was fitting that Dawnbreaker had left her side. Her luck had to run out one day.
Miara sighed as she turned Gin's body around. He was very heavy, so it took a bit of effort, even for her. His head rolled over to the side, showing her his still elven side, to which Miara gently placed a hand upon it. Her eyes shone with regret, and her lips pursed.
"I did this," The Dragonborn muttered. "I turned him into a monster."
Theron panted as he finished downing both potions, "You saved his life."
"What kind of life will this be?" She shook her head.
Theron regarded her for a moment, "You sound unsure you can save him."
"...I've given my blood to a few people in my entire life. And the coin toss had always been in their favor," The dunmer said, "Always thought that it was thanks to measures I took on my part. But perhaps it was just luck all along." What would have been of her dear Sofie if the blessing had become a curse? She didn't dare imagine it. "I've seen what happens to others who partook of the dragon blood. Those who captured dragons or found their blood through other means. They died, their minds were lost, or they became monsters. I... was never in time to prevent it, nor to reverse it."
The dalish pondered for a moment, "Is there time for Gin?"
"There should be." It felt like she was telling herself that. "I think I can reverse his form with my voice, stabilize it. But the damage to his mind? ...I can only guess the extent of it. I'm not sure if it'll be the Gin we remember."
Theron thought of Tamlen and what he became in his last moments. "But he'd still be our friend."
Miara slowly nodded, "He must be. But from here on out... it'll be up to him."
The Dragonborn took a deep, slow breath and spoke in the tongue of her kin.
The words carried intent, purpose, and power, washing over the dragonified's elf form with authority.
Theron could faintly see rainbow energy exhaling from Miara's mouth and engulfing Gin. Unlike the moments he had seen the divine elf use her thu'um for those shouts and speak with unshakable authority, this was different. Her words were like a hymn of healing as he began to see Gin's body changing again.
But to his relief, he saw the draconian scales and spike vanishing from his fellow elf's body, receding. The misshapen flesh took on a much more natural form, leaving behind healthy and prominent muscles. Groaning, Theron stood up and came to the Dragonborn's side. More and more, he saw Gin's form returning to normal, his dark skin shedding all traces of scales. But he also took notice that while his comrade and friend were being restored, his newfound height, muscle mass, and wilder hair were not changing.
"Why is he still so large?"
Miara stopped her hymn for a moment to answer, "He drank the blood of a divine. Gin's body will forever be altered."
"Like Sofie."
"Lydia, Jordis, Kharjo, Seravis, and a few others. The physical transformation differs somewhat for each person." She resumes her hymn.
The Dalish warrior vividly recalled meeting the former Housecarls, who had become the leaders of Miara's Blades. Their physiques varied greatly, but they shared Gin's immense height. Or close to it, as Gin seemed to be taller than even Alistair at this point. "He is going to have to retrain himself to adjust to this new body."
With some final words, Miara finished her hymn, "It was the same for the others. But I am uncertain how this will work for Gin."
"But you've healed him."
"His body, but his soul and mind are very different and will take longer to heal than with just my thu'um."
A droning groan made Miara and Theron turn their attention back to Gin, who had begun to stir.
A droning groan made Miara and Theron turn their attention back to Gin, who had begun to stir. The city elf pursed his lips and frowned, his eyes fluttering open as he took in his surroundings. "Miara, Theron...?" He moved to stand up, only for Miara to put a hand on his shoulder. He also soon noticed the rope wrapped around his body. "Why am I tied up?" He also then took note of his new massive frame, "What happened to me?"
"Quite a lot," Miara explained, knelt beside Gin, "what do you remember?"
"You saved me by drinking your blood. Darkspawn showed up; I wanted to help, but... Everything went hazy after that." The City Elf shook his head, looking back at the ropes, then the others, "Can you get these off me?"
Theron turned his gaze to Miara, who nodded and began to unbound his transformed friend. Gin took note of the wariness in the dalish while he did his work. "Did something happen?"
There were no right words to say it delicately, so Miara explained it as plainly as she could, "As you can see, my blood changed you. But you went feral."
"Feral?" He exclaimed with a surprising level of intensity. "Why?"
"You were turning into a monster," Theron expressed as calmly as he could. "You tore through the Darkspawn but ran off."
"What do you mean I became a monster!?" He glared at Miara, his nostrils flaring in anger as he rose to stand, now towering over the two. "What did you do to me?!" The sudden outburst was completely out of character for the city elf, and none were more surprised than Gin himself, who looked shaken after realizing he snapped at Miara in such a manner. "I... I didn't mean... I got angry for some reason, and I..."
Miara looked at him with a mixture of remorse and pity.
Gin looked at the dunmer's red eyes pleadingly. "I... Why did I... It is like a fire burning inside me. There is so much rage and anger, I can't-"
"We will work on this, Gin, I swear to you," Miara responded with emotion in her voice.
Gin stared back, unknowingly tears dripping off his cheeks, "What's happening to me?"
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
'What's happening to me?'
That was the question that kept repeating in Shale's mind as the golem kept having these... flashes. Raging from brief images, blurred and hazy, to pieces of memory comprised of battles, of lines of mighty golems slaughtering Darkspawn wholesale, standing side by side with brave dwarven legions.
Of a man, a... smith, haunted yet proud all the same, as he took Shale's hand, placing it upon his creation, a great anvil that shined like lyrium.
It all hit at once like a storm that saw no end. It is maddening!?
"Shale!" Oryrn's voice roused the stone being from its thoughts. It then turned and realized it had walked ahead of the others at a good distance. "Wait for us."
The stony figure nodded as it stood before its comrades finally caught up. "You started jogging," Neria spoke with genuine concern. "Are you alright?"
"I-I do not know." It raised its hand to its head, "The longer I remain down here, the more I see things, feel them. But they come like a whirlwind, and I can't stop it."
"Foreshadowing~" The dizzy dunmer sang, still draped over her sister's back as Morrigan kept a watchful eye on her.
"Just rest for a moment, Sarya," Sofie said, not even bothered by her weight.
They continued through the tunnels silently, not knowing what to say to the golem. Knowing Shale, it'd be better not to say anything. So, they put their trust in the golem, who seemed to be guided by whatever memories it had of this place. In contrast, their dwarves acted as navigators with their stone sense. However, Faren's was weaker than Oghren's after all the time spent on the surface.
Said the red-haired dwarf, who kept throwing looks at Isobel, who stood among the front liners of the group. "So, human with wings. Is that a thing on the surface? Is that how you people don't fall to the sky?"
The knightess looked at him with visible confusion. "'Fall to the sky-?' Um, no. I'm a... different case. My soul is human, but I'm, in essence, a type of spirit."
"What like a ghost?"
"That's not... inaccurate to say, but it's a bit more complicated than that."
"Complicated sums up how people here perceive anything that comes from Tamriel," Neria said with a touch of humor in her voice. "So, you're a servant of Miara's brother, you said."
"I was her friend first!" Isobel said with a beaming smile. The woman's spirited attitude seemed to light up the darkness of the underground, and Neria found it comforting. "I knew her in life, many years ago. We met back in the Second Era," she sighs, "Dreadful times."
"Second Era?" Neria frowned. "Wasn't that over a thousand years ago? I... Miara said she isn't even two centuries old yet."
"Oh yeah, that's because she went back in time via a dwemer machine."
"Um."
The Dunmeri Templar and Nordic female warrior let out a low groan, taking notice of the glances from the Thedosian company. "They are still getting used to the fact that Mother is a goddess," Oryrn explained to Isobel.
"...Oh..." She winced, "Draigh..."
Sten grumbled in his native tongue.
"I remember Sarya doing time magic to save the Arl. But actual traversal through time itself?" disbelief rang in Neria's voice.
"The Dwemer created a device that used powerful tonal magics that played with the flow of time. They liked to experiment with the fabric of reality." The Templar addressed what his mothers told him and Sorine Juard, who had looked over the machine. "In my elven mother's case, with its activation, she was sent fourteen hundred years into the past, during the Planemeld and the Three Banners War of the second era."
"Sucky era!" Sarya proclaimed, "But awesome people back then, too!" she thumbed to Isobel, who snorted.
"How long was Miara in the past?" Morrigan questioned with her curiosity peeking.
Sofie grunted, "Months. Had to be as inconspicuous as she could, being Dragonborn in a time where none were."
"But mama is still mama. Fought the bad guys like a badass!" Sarya cheered before slumping forward.
"At least the ones she knew she could without tampering with the past too much." Oryrn paused, "It might be that those events played all along as they should because of her presence."
Ohgren scratched his head, "Maybe I should have stayed drunk."
"Oh, the shit just keeps getting crazier," Faren supplied with a half-crazed grin.
Neria merely let out a soft sigh. Faren's words were accurate, though they failed to capture the full scope of how utterly frantic things have gotten. She tried to keep a steady mind and will throughout it all, focus on getting back to the rest of their friends, but there was one particular issue that kept gnawing at her.
She looked over her shoulder, staring past Sofie, who merely smiled as her sister played with her hair, and Zevran, who kept trying to lighten the mood with another outrageous tale to keep the dazed dunmer awake, and into Oryrn's figure as he kept a few paces behind the others to act as rear guard.
She really should be focusing on the matter at hand, but they might not get another chance to discuss it.
Neria slowed her pace, ignoring the brief looks of her companions as they soon realized she intended to speak with the dunmeri Templar as privately as she could.
Oryrn's expression shifted to mild surprise as she was now walking at his side. His lips pursed in hesitation as Neria gave him a side look as if to say, 'I'm waiting.'
He let out an exhale through his nostrils. "I'm sorry," He said once more.
"Accepted," Neria replied.
"I never- I didn't intend to hurt you."
"Intent and result aren't often the same," Neria said, though she felt she had to reign in the lingering anger that was still present at the corner of her mind. "I do not want things to be like this between us forever, Oryrn." She spoke softly, knowing he would hear her, trying to keep their talk private. "When we make it out of here, we will need to discuss this." She waved her hand between the two, "Properly. And I need to be part of it, not just you deciding, okay?"
The Dunmeri Templar nodded understanding as they pressed forward to find the others, which comforted the Thadosian Elf. Because as much as she was still upset with Oryrn... Her heart ached more at the thought of...
Neria shook the thoughts away. Now wasn't the time for that. Getting back to their friends was.
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
Gin grunted as he put on hard leather armor-plated pants with a waist cloak that fit his new size onto his naked form. Miara found herself grateful enough to summon Butler to get gear that would fit well to Gin's new size, as his former clothes were completely ruined. "What did you call this?"
"Mercenary armor as fashioned by the old Undaunted guild. They did not have much foresight into labeling things." Miara quipped, though, to be fair, the Fourth Era Undaunted were nothing like their Second Era compatriots. "You are about the same size as a few Nord friends of mine."
Well, it gave Gin some much-needed clothes, so he was content with that. He also took note of the ebony swords placed beside him: "I've never been much for swords."
"Given your new condition, going to swords might work better for you. And those were the old ones I used. Not to mention, with your new size, those are shorter swords to you," Miara explained.
"...Thank you..." The Dunmeri woman nodded as he took notice of the woman's pained expression.
The march back to the tunnels was somber. The only words exchanged were Miara asking Gin to let her know if he felt ill or found himself lapsing again. She kept herself from fussing or overly worrying, knowing it'd only be worse if she treated him like a fragile thing or a bomb about to go off at any moment.
It did not take them long to return to the others, who froze in place the moment they took a look at Gin, staring at him with both relief and disbelief at the elves' massive physique. The last time they saw him, he was midway mutating into a monstrous thing; now, he looked like a warrior straight out of an epic legend. It was a stark contrast to the lithe and short city elf they knew, like night and day.
Serana sighed in relief, "You managed to turn him. Good"
"Gin" Alistair called out to his friend, approaching him and giving him a look over. "You're okay."
"I'm okay as I can be," The elf shrugged his large shoulders. "Looking like Sten was not on my to-do list..."
"At least you lack his scowl," Theron muttered as he went to sit on a boulder and inspect his bow.
"Give it time," Gin droned, "With my mood as it is, I'm not long now..."
"Your humor remains intact; that's a good sign, at least," Marcus said earnestly as he handed Sereda his water pouch, "I'm assuming. Are you sure you're alright? Do you need to take a rest? A potion or-?"
"No," Gin said more forcefully than he wanted, holding up a hand. "I'm fine"
"Hmm, yes, you are~," Brianna said with a sultry tone as she put a hand to her chin, looking over the elf like he was a fine cut of meat. And it made Gin's stomach churn in genuine distaste, so much that it surprised him. Brianna was a friend, but the thought of being attractive to a human was overpowering his reason. "If you need a health check, I'm more than capable of giving you a look over~."
Gin's patience wore thin as he snarled at her, "Do you think this is a joking matter?" He hissed, "The last thing I want is to be lusted over by a human, so for once in your life, just try to keep your legs closed!"
Silence reigned over the cavern as looks of shock and utter bewilderment fell upon the elf. That outburst had been... completely out of character for the reserved and dry-witted city elf. Gin lashing out at a friend like that was just something inconceivable. Yet he wasn't so far gone as to ignore his words; the anger in his features was soon replaced with shame. "I... I'm sorry, Brianna. I didn't mean-" No, he did mean it, but... her certainly didn't want to snap at her that way.
The human mage, for her part, looked more stunned than offended by his previous words as she blinked owlishly at him. "I suppose you don't like humans that way?"
Gin just looked away.
"You didn't get off scot-free, huh?" She continued with more sympathy in her voice.
Miara raised her hands placatingly, "The worst of it has been healed. But there were still complications that will be attended to." She gave Gin a reassuring pat on the arm.
A low whine came from Loke while he sniffed around the transformed Elf.
Alistair looked at his friend. "Well, the new armor looks good on you," he grinned kindly.
"Thanks."
The Fire Goddess turned her attention to Sereda and Wynne, "How are you two?"
"Limp's healing; I'll be able to fight and walk soon." The stubborn dwarven woman gave a thumbs up.
The elderly Senior Enchanter gave a half-hearted shrug, "I can use my spells well enough. But I won't be running about."
Concern bloomed on the Dunmeri woman's face. "You still better be careful when fighting Sereda. Wynne, don't strain yourself with your 'condition.'" She paused for a moment in thought. "We're going to need an extra hand. I'll summon someone."
Recognition came to Marcus, "Like Kodlak?"
Green arcane flames appeared and cloaked Miara's hands. "Another dear friend, but not from Sovngarde this time." Her tone of voice turned warm and loving as she began to speak in a language unknown to the Thedas comrades.
"What's that dialect?" Brianna wondered out loud.
"Jel," Serana answered softly, "Language of the Saxhleel... Argonians."
Miara put her hands together, and the flames combined and grew as she kept speaking in Jel. Extending her open hands forward, everyone watched as the green flame flew like a fireball but stopped and expanded like a portal. "Return to the living for a time to aid me, old friend. Sharp-as-Night." The last words were in common with the authority only a divine can use.
Marcus and the others soon saw a fairly tall, muscular figure step out of the green portal dressed in a mix of hard red leather and black armor. A pair of wicked-looking axes were attached to the... humanoid lizard's belt.
That was the best way those from Thedas could describe the individual who walked through the portal. Having dark grey scales on the visible portions of his hands, along with a long lizard-like tail swaying. His head was also that of a lizard with a long-snouted face with horns and feathers going down the back of his head. Red markings covered his green slit eyes that held some amusement once the portal closed, and he stared back at Miara, "Finally got around to summoning me again?"
The dark elf chuckled tearfully, "Well, I didn't want to interrupt you and Dimik-ei fishing like last time." She quickly walked over, embracing her dear old friend with her forehead and his snout leaning against each other.
"My sister hardly minds knowing it is you who summons me." The two detached while Sharp offered an amused retort.
Alistair blinked a few times with his eyes wide as possible, "...A lizard person..." His words made the said lizard person turn a cocked brow his way, "Oh, sorry. Was that rude?"
"Never seen a Saxhleel before?"
Serana snorted with a quip, "Oh, we landed on a new continent that doesn't have beast folk here. Hello Sharp."
"Serana, always a pleasure. Well, this land sounds boring already." He turned his gaze to the surroundings around them. He began sniffing the air, "We're underground. That smell is universal enough as is." Looking back to the people that were with his friend he shifted his head sideways at the small human woman in armor, "Gnomes?"
"Dwarf..." Miara answered, earning a look from the argonian, "I'll explain on the way." She turned her attention to the others, "This is Sharp-as-Night, or Sharp as he prefers at times."
Walking over, Marcus chose to welcome the new addition formally, "I am Marcus Cousland. Welcome to Thedas, Sir Sharp." He gave a slight bow in respect.
"Oh, I'm far from a knight; just call me Sharp. There's no need to be so formal with me. If you're hanging out with this lot," he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at Miara and Serana, "Then you know manners are a waste of effort."
"I like him already," Alistair grinned, earning a snort from Gin and Theron.
Brianna came closer as she inspected the Saxhleel, who eyed her back, "So, is he truly back from the dead?"
"Not exactly," Miara explained. "I summoned him back to his mortal physical form, which will remain until I send him back to the Hist."
Rubbing her chin in reflection, Serana's hands began to glow purple. "We might need a little more help with everything we're dealing with down here."
Loke gave a low growl as CuSith and Garmr, the Nord vampire's undead death hounds, appeared. The two growled back till Serana snapped her fingers, "Enough!" Her commanding words made all three dogs stop before sitting on their hinds. "Good boys."
Theron moved his eyes away from the undead canines to Marcus, "We should start finding a way back to the others." Everyone shared this sentiment as they began to slowly move forward and hopefully reunite with the rest of their comrades and family.
And prayed no more Darkspawn or whatever else was is down here came for them.
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX