As this is my first serious fan fiction work, please review it, and do remeber this is for posterity so do be honest in your reviews. Thanks in advance.
DRAGON AGE ORIGINS: MOUNTAIN BORN INTRO.
The mountains are our home
They are a cradle, as well as a fortress
Korth holds us up, as Hakkon watches over us
While their children guide us, the Avvar
Remember this and be comforted
-Shaman Faragus of the Glade Runner clan. Dragon Age 9:10
INTRO
In the west of Ferelden lies a great range of mountains known as the Frostback Mountains. They form a great natural divide between the nation of Ferelden in the east, and the nation or Orlasis in the west. They push themselves out of the soil of the two nations and reach skywards higher than any man made monument can hope to achieve. They are an inhospitable and remote area even in the height of summer, but when winter closes on them they become a place where no man save the Avvar may dwell without perishing. The only other people who dwell there are the dwarves of Orzamar who stay well within their city during this season as well. This tale however is not about mountains, or nations, or peoples, although it touches on them as well. Rather this story is about one man, an Avvar tribesman named Sigvard, and how this one man would go on to shape the world in ways that no one, especially Sigvard himself would have been able to dream. His tale begins in 9:30 Dragon Age as the Chantry reckons, high up in the Frostbacks on an early spring day.
In a valley close to the entrance of Orzamar and one that led down to the only major road that crosses the mountains between Ferelden and Orlasis, this story begins. This valley had seen the Alamarri cross into Ferelden; the Tevinters come and go, Divine Marches of the chantry on both the Dales, and on the Tevinters by Andraste. It had also seen the glorious armies of Orlasis cross into Ferelden to conquer it, and then be pushed out in defeat by the Rebel King Maric, and Teryn Loghain. This valley represented the firm belief of the Avvars that nothing lasts forever, and all things one day end. Whether great nations, religions, races, places, or people not one thing in the world is immortal. However such lofty ideals and lessons were not on the mind of Sigvard or of Grum his wolf that had been bonded to him as a cub, for roughly six years. What was on Sigvard’s mind was the deer he had been tracking all that morning, while all that was on Grum’s mind was finding a place to go to sleep.
Sigvard himself was an average Avvar tribesman, although too many people outside the Avvars, Sigvard would stand out in a crowd easily. Head to toe he stood over six feet tall, and was powerfully built but not overly so. Overall his features were very plain with black hair typical of many Avvar, and hazel eyes. What did stand out on him was a facial tattoo that covered the right side of his face. Five horizontal lines went from his right eye down to his jaw. They were all intersected by a line forming a U through all of them. This stood for the legend of his clans founding, when a hunter warned the five small villages in the glades of the valley thousands of years ago of an impending attack by Tevinter soldiers. The hunter, one Alagard warned all the glades in one night and then ran back and formed an ambush that routed the Tevinters in the morning. For doing this the villages named him chief and became the Glade Runner clan under Alagard.
Dressed in a comfortable hunting garb of leather, with a powerful composite bow and a quiver on him, Sigvard was geared exactly the same as any of the other dozen or so clan members ranging in the forest that day. Grum the wolf beside him was coloured grey with white patches covering him in spots. While Grum was large for a mountain wolf, compared to the Mabari war hounds in Ferelden he was smaller than them by a good bit. Going down on one knee Sigvard scanned the next patch of trees for his prey.
“Why did father have to call this conclave in the spring Grum? I know that the “monster” sightings have scared people but this is just silly.” Sigvard said to Grum in a conversational tone. Grum for his part just let out a pensive sigh and flopped down with a huff beside Sigvard.
The reason that so many hunters were combing the woods is that Sigvard’s father Signarund the leader of the Glade Runner clan had called a conclave or a meeting among the clans to deal with these monster sightings and to deal with some smaller territorial issues among the bordering clans. Wanting to impress the other clans Signarund had been gathering as much food as possible to hold a feast for the other clans. Reputation mattered greatly to Avvars and still does, but offending a tribe even on simple matters has lead to many clan wars over the history of the Avvar and Alamarri. So Sigvard and a dozen other hunters were sent out to catch food for the feast tomorrow. However being young men in spring, up in the mountains had usually meant freedom from family, and for many young tribesman freedom from their family’s scrutiny with the young women in the tribe, living around so many trees did have its advantages after all. Winter kept the people of the Glade Runner clan inside for most of the season, so people had little to do besides be with their families for months, and the plans that the young tribesmen Sigvard included where thrown off a little bit by being out hunting on one of the first real days of spring.
Letting out a grumble Sigvard turned to Grum and said “no use complaining Grum, come on the deer went through here” Sigvard pointed out a depression in the grass between two trees to his companion. With an annoyed exhale Grum got up, shook himself off and followed Sigvard into the trees to continue the hunt.
“What’s taking Sigvard so long!” a tribesman exploded angrily at another. “Be quiet Ranoer, Sigvard isint that late, and he knows what he is doing.” Another hunter said calmly but forcefully.
“That’s fine for you to say Signord, he’s your little brother, but I for one don’t enjoy sitting in a mud puddle while waiting for him.” said Ranoer. Ranoer truth be told was slightly drunk and getting a little rowdy back at the meeting point. Signord the older brother of Sigvard, was getting a little annoyed as well since the other ten hunters were back with their gains and Sigvard was the only one still out there. He couldn’t go back without him, that would definitely not go over well with the family yet he couldn’t wait until dark to get back as well.
“We will give him some more time, before we get worried.” Signord announced. Although he sounded confident on the outside he was getting a little annoyed and worried over Sigvard’s lateness. Looking over the glen the hunters were gathered around a small flame, with a cart behind them filled with their gains of the day from both bows, and snares left in the forests with an old mule tied up near by.
“Don’t worry Sig, I am sure little brother is just taking the scenic route.” announced Alagard coming up behind him with a basket full of fish from the stream which he placed on the cart. Calling Signord, Sig or Siggy was one way to get him agitated and Alagard and Sigvard used it often to poke his ego when he played the older brother. “I am not worried Alagard, just annoyed that he is taking so long” Signord tried to sound calm about as he leaned against a tree. “And please for Korth’s sake stop calling me Sig in front of people!”
“Well nothing else bugs you quite like that siggy so it’s my favourite way to get you.” Alagard said with a huge grin as he stood across from Signord. “Besides I would be worried as well, mother can be quite effective with her guilt cant she?”
“Don’t remind me about the time we lost him on the boar hunt and he got hurt please. I am sure that up in the mountains that lecture is still bouncing around.” Signord said with a pained grimace from remembering that lecture almost six years ago. Alagard simply laughed and said “don’t worry after the boar; I think Sigvard is a cautious enough person.” “We can only hope so brother, at least there isint anything beyond deer in the valley.” Signord announced in a tone that was almost prayerful.
Suddenly from the other side of the glade there came a huge voice “All hail the conquering hunter!” From the trees Sigvard emerged with a deer carcase over his shoulders and two small rabbits tied around his waist. Grum was at his side as well, and gave him as sideways look that was a little annoyed. “Oh” Sigvard said sheepishly “All hail Grum the conquering wolf companion!” With that Grum look a little less perturbed and went over to flop down beside the fire. Sigvard went and plopped the deer and rabbits into the cart, and with a flourish spun around and waved at his older brothers with a lopsided smile on his face.
“Nice deer little brother, but is that all you could get was that and two little rabbits?” Signord said trying to use his older brother voice. “Well I did shoot down a goose, but Grum ate it before I could get to it Sig” Sigvard responded in his best innocent little brother voice.
“Don’t” Signord snapped at him, “we have to get going back home before its dark”. With that he walked off and started getting the slightly tipsy or sleeping hunters ready to go.
“Just ignore him Sigvard” Alagard said “he’s had a hard day, what with only getting one little turkey and missing everything else” finishing off with a grin Alagard clapped his litte brother on the shoulder and went to get the old mule attached to the cart. Sigvard as well got ready to move out and in a few short minutes the camp was struck and the cart started heading north east back up the mountains towards their home village.
However another group of people were marching out of the valley directly towards the group of hunters at this time. This group only numbered four people, and none looked like they belonged in a forest. Two of them were human males dressed in leather garb, but with plates riveted on them, and with multiple weapons and war bows slung on their back. The third was in a robe, coloured in a deep blue, and was carrying a metal staff with a strange grouping of metal prongs on the end. By his angular features, and shorter height he was clearly elven. The leader of the group was a tall man with weathered skin, black hair pulled into a pony tail, and with a trimmed beard. His armour was a lighter metal plate outfit, with thinker fabric parts around his legs. Carrying a long sword and a heavy dagger, which his left hand rested on he was scanning the forest ahead for the road down into Ferelden.
“Duncan, don’t you think we have gone far enough today?” called the mage from the rear of the group. “We are days from any routes back into the deep roads anyway were pretty safe up here”. Exhaling and coming to a stop Duncan turned his head and said “we will rest for a while Cyrus, but only for a short while, the king won’t wait forever at Ostagar.” The three men behind of Duncan all sank to a comfortable spot and tried to get some rest. Duncan went ahead a little and sat on a rock and looked out over the valley.
His thoughts turned to just how badly things were going in Ferelden. A Blight was coming and he knew it but sadly no one else seemed to know or care. A Blight it is said is when an Archdemon is awoken and it leads the darkspawn to the surface and tries to kill everything it can. The Archdemon is apparently in chantry lore an Old God of the Tevinter Imperium cast down by the Maker, and driven mad by the darkspawn. To most people a Blight is something that happened long ago, and in one final battle the Grey Wardens, the order sworn to fighting the Darkspawn wherever the arose, destroyed the last Archdemon and the darkspawn. However to people who knew better like Duncan, and the Dwarves in Orzamar the darkspawn were only pushed back and there were more archdemons waiting, three more if legends were correct.
Like Sigvard however Duncan’s thoughts were on the present rather than the past. Wherever he had gone in Ferelden there were no real recruits to be found. He had only found Jory a knight from Highever, and Daveth a street thief and sadly neither of them inspired great confidence. While looking back at the last months Duncan had precious few things that had gone right at all. Every single place he had gone had been a disaster from Denerim, the Circle Tower, and Orzamar all of which yielded no recruits. The only stop left was Highever, specifically the castle of the Couslands to try and find a suitable recruit, on his way to Ostagar. That is if they managed to find the road out of the Frostbacks and into Ferelden through all the trees.
“What’s on your mind my friend?” came the mage’s voice from behind him.
“Just thinking about events, and the future Cyrus” Duncan replied in a quiet voice.
“You do that a lot it seems Duncan” Cyrus replied .“Things are sure going crazy, makes me wonder why I left the Free Marches.”
“Being a Warden is never easy, especially in Ferelden, with a blight coming and the entire nation in an uproar”. Duncan replied to Cyrus.
“Maybe we should - wait did you hear that?” Cyrus was suddenly peering down the hillside and into the trees. With his warning Duncan and the other two wardens came to attention and started listening attentively.
Down from the bottom of the hill a loud and off-key song came drifting up the hill in a strange tongue. While not in a language that any of the wardens could speak, they could almost make out of some words but not the whole tune. “I think those are Avvars coming this way” one of the wardens said behind Duncan in a surprised voice.
“Are you sure, they could just be mercenaries singing on the march?” Cyrus asked him.
“No they are singing about Korth the mountain father, Hakkon the lady of the skies. Those are gods to the Avvar, no one else would sing about them like that” he replied to Cyrus.
“He’s right, few people outside of Avvars even know the names of Korth and Hakkon, let alone enough to sing a song about them” Cyrus told Duncan. “Maybe we should go down and ask how to get onto the main road from here.”
“Very well” replied Duncan, “but stay on your guard some of them are drunk and we don’t want to start a fight.” The other warden’s nodded and formed up behind Duncan to go and meet the tribesman coming towards them.
This will be going up on FF.net as soon as I can put it up.
Part 1 will cover how Sigvard comes to join the wardens, and will show us what Avvars most likely would have been like.
edited for easier reading.
Modifié par Giggles_Manically, 25 juillet 2010 - 06:02 .
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