Dawn
Chapter 1 of the Dragon Hunters
Written by Karohoh on the Bioware Social Forums
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Dragon Age in any form.
Author’s Preface:
Here we go.
——
In Nevarra, a man’s tomb is believed to be both his final resting place and his eternal residence. Though other Chantry followers burn their dead, the Nevarrans construct the most elaborate tombs in Thedas, preserving the deceased in their corporeal forms.
The highest caste in Nevarra, above even the Dusseniers, consisted of those associated with the royal chamber. They built their tombs in the second capitol, the Necropolis, built of white stone native to the region. The pride and glory of Nevarra lay housed in that empty city, as it was told in other countries. Status in Nevarra was inherently linked to one’s death. Where he lay determined how society remembered him. How he built that tomb was the first purpose of a man’s life.
Irenia noticed that even the backwater towns maintained that belief. White stone tombs were scattered along the main square of Frier, adorned with carvings describing the deceased’s accomplishments. The one in front of her pictured a bearded man speaking to a legion of elves. The Dussenier Rolfen Bernerand had contracted at least three hundred elves in his lifetime, who’s labor laid the foundations of Frier.
The Silent Plains boasted little crop, but the elven farmers did what they could to appease their Dussenier masters. Elves did all the menial work in the country, many were the descendants of the Dalish escaping the arm of the Chantry, or run away slaves from Tevinter. Though many of the Free March city states, including Kirkwall, rejected the notion of mass Elfish labor, Nevarra embraced it.
Their desire for architecture could not be appeased any other way, and the Dussenier system was born after the first great migration of Elves. Elves constructed the tombs for the nobility and the elite of society in exchange for shelter from their persecutors.
There were elves running about in the night Irenia arrived in Frier, performing errands for their masters. These were the elven serfs, the lowest of the low. There were a number of human serfs, but they at least had the right to a Nevarran burial.
Elfen corpses were burned in piles, as the Chantry prescribes, their ashes used to fertilize the soil. An elf in Nevarra was not a citizen but a possession of his master. Irenia pitied them, in Antiva there was no distinction between Elf and Human. Only one’s capability to serve the Crows mattered above anything else.
A successful Crow, elf, human, or dwarf was treated with respect by all of Antiva. Irenia, though an apostate by the Chantry’s standards, was a prized asset to her masters. Her skill was known so widely that she was allowed solo missions, a stature saved for the Crow’s elite alone.
She was not Antivan by birth. Her parents came from Ferelden, the most backwater of all the countries in Thedas. Her blond hair and green eyes reflected her wild heritage, and in the beginning of her service to the Crows her beauty was her greatest asset. Soft, engaging eyes and fine features entranced many of her targets. A throat cut with a dagger was their reward for their compliments.
The Dragon’s Tail Tavern was built of wood like the rest of the village. Irenia had received a tip that her targets had retired there for the night.
She ran her hand across her black cloak, checking if all her preparations were in place. Fifteen throwing daggers hung across the cloak’s interior. A staff for emergencies hung on her back. A smoke bomb in case she needed to escape, though in her six years of assassination she hadn’t retreated once. Irenia’s skill was that good.
She realized the irony of the location. Her targets were dragon hunters, two of them, and they would meet their end in the Dragon’s Tail. Pushing the tavern door open, Irenia scanned the bar room for the weakest willed servant. Dussenier serfs were branded with a mark on their cheek for identification. She choose an elf, blond hair and very, dull eyes. Revealing her face by pulling the hood of her cloak down, the elf immediately shifted his attention to her. Irenia smiled, and accepted his nervous advance.
“May I help you?”
If anything, Irenia was persuasive. Her magic talents and Crow training only enhanced her natural, convincing voice.
“If I may ask your name, Elf?” Her voice echoed with magic akin to the Tevinter magister’s blood domination, less potent but still effective against the weak-willed.
“It’s Durant, mistress.”
“What a lovely name, Durant. Who gave it to you?”
The more idle chitchat between them increased the mesmerizing effect of her voice magic. As the elf’s eyes dilated, Irenia knew she would have full control of his actions. He was beginning to fall under the spell already.
“My mother did. She died a few years ago, to the Qunari fever.” The widening of Durant’s pupils signaled Irenia to make her move.
“Good. I’m looking for two men, Durant, who just arrived in town. Will you show me to them?”
“I’m not sure I can do that mistress. It’s against the Dussenier’s policy to disturb the guests.” Durant was in her thrall, looking very conflicted to have denied her request. Irenia did not waste opportunities like this.
“But don’t you know that I’m the Dussenieress herself? Am I not exempt from my own husband’s policy?” Irenia threw on a mask of disapproval, to capitalize on Durant’s discomfort. The elf was a fish on her hook, drowning in air when Irenia pleased.
“ Of course, my lady. I will certainly follow my lady’s orders.” Durant had no hint of disbelief in his voice. Irenia’s magic had worked perfectly, her words whatever they may be were his truth.
Durant led Irenia up the shaky stairs of the Dragon’s Tail, careful not to impede in her way. A custom in Nevarra was absolute respect for the Dussenier by his serfs, which Durant followed to the letter.
The upstair rooms were four in number, the doors of which were visible from the stairway. Durant led Irenia to the end of the hallway, to the last room. Irenia prepared herself for the coming moments. The kill would have to happen in the next few seconds.
“They are in here.” Durant gestured to the door.
“Please let me in, Durant.” Irenia feigned her approval.
“As you wish, my lady.” Turning the handle, and pushing the wood open, Irenia could make a single figure sitting on top of the bed. Brown, unkempt hair, but with the obvious fitness of a warrior. He was wearing his light leather armor. Irenia assumed he was the agile type, and prepared a battle plan in response.
“Ser Dakin, this is the Dussenieress herself to see you. I see that your companion has left already, if you could….”
Durant was interrupted by a wave of knives piercing through his stomach, guided by Irenia’s telepathic magic. Dakin saw the glow in the crow’s eyes, and ducked the second before the daggers would have hit. His daggers were on the other side of the bed, lying sheathed against the wall. He would need to retrieve them if he were to survive this encounter. Irenia realized this as well, and threw Durant aside. Preparing another wave of daggers, she would make her kill when Dakin reached for his weapons.
Dakin was a step ahead of her. Understanding that she intended to cut him off with his daggers by the angle of her floating blades, he instead rushed at her intent on hand to hand combat. The time it would take for her to re-aim her daggers was Dakin’s only window. He gambled on that, given her choice to use telepathy as opposed to destructive spells, the assassin had been ordered to keep the kill silent. Whether or not she valued those orders would decide whether Dakin’s attack would connect. A direct spell would shake the building, with the state of the floorboards considered, alerting the people downstairs.
Irenia saw him coming at her, and could not aim her daggers fast enough. His gamble worked, and a precise kick at her kidney stunned Irenia momentarily. Her daggers dropped to the floor, and she gripped her side in pain. Dakin used this opportunity to sprint out of the room, hoping to slip out of the assassin’s field of view before she recovered.
Luck had already intervened on Dakin’s part once. Running through the busy tavern drew confused looks from the patrons. As he exited from Dragon’s Tail, Irenia had burst through the second story window onto the street below. Her telepathy magic had cushioned her fall. Irenia’s pride was hurt, and she was fully intent on killing him now.
Dakin knew that outside if she used any powerful magic, the blast may alert the local templars. This woman most certainly an apostate, risking capture would probably not be an option. There was a fountain in the middle of Frier’s main square, and Dakin saw that as adequate cover. Running in a non-distinct pattern kept Irenia from firing a direct hit. Daggers cut at his arms and legs, but not enough to slow him down.
Irenia had no choice but to chase him down, looking for an open shot. Dakin had already ducked under the fountain, catching his breath to formulate a plan to survive. His assassin was probably intelligent enough to have poisoned the daggers. He felt his muscles cramping. She had used a paralyzing poison. He accepted his loss, having lost the strength to move already.
“You’re one crazy ****, you know that right?”
Irenia prepared for this kill with delight. She would cut his throat with her own hands. This one put up a good fight and she would honor him by allowing him a last conversation. The poison took a few minutes to constrict the throat anyway.
“As you might think, Nevarran,” she was interrupted by the force of great-sword’s hilt against her spine. A tall man, wearing silverite armor, stood above her as she as knocked to the ground. The irony of her interrupted speech hit her perhaps even harder than the impact itself.
“Tyrian.. Thank the Maker you’ve come…” Dakin’s throat had gone out, and Tyrian realized he would suffocate if he didn’t take action soon. His mind darted around different solutions, none of them any bit useful. The woman, the woman will have an antidote. Good thing I didn’t kill her.
“Woman!” He picked her up by the collar, raising her up level with his face.
“You must cure him!” Desperation in Tyrian’s voice alerted Irenia. These two were close.
“I have no obligation to do so. I’m good as dead as long you’re alive.” She gave him a cheeky smile, preferring to die on her terms. Did she think she would die like this, not in a thousand years. Irenia had so many plans. Irenia wanted so much more than to die by the hands of a mark.
“You’re a member of the Antivan Crows? Damn it all!” Tyrian let out a cry of frustration. Dakin was getting worse by the second. Irenia closed her eyes, trying to numb herself before Tyrian killed her. All she received was a harsh slap in the face.
“Please! I will assure you shelter from your master’s revenge if you cure him from the poison. I swear it on my life, on my tomb, as a prince of Nevarra!”
“You’re a prince?”
“I am the second son of the dowager queen Arthena Pentaghast! My word is as sturdy as dragon-bone. I swear it.”
Letting her go, Tyrian knelt at her feet. Irenia could not contain her surprise. The man had abandoned all his advantages, she could kill him if she wanted. She could accomplish her mission. Kill both marks. The man’s words planted a seed of hope in her that Irenia could not ignore. Freedom from the Crows was something she had dreamed of since her childhood.
“Get up. I accept your offer.” Irenia brushed the dirt off her cloak.
Tyrian exhaled in relief as Irenia poured a vial of green substance into Dakin’s mouth. The other man began breathing normally moments later.
Irenia smiled. She was going to live after all. This time on her terms.
Tyrian dashed to Dakin’s side, checking to see if his companion could speak. Dakin coughed up blood for a moment, and smiled at Tyrian.
Irenia took a moment to absorb the possibilities of their deal. Looking at the two men, she said in her Antivan accent, throwing aside her Crow conditioned walls for the first time.
“So I hear you two are dragon hunters?”
———
Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Combat is something I’m relatively new at writing, comments on that aspect are especially appreciated. Any comment is appreciated really.
Modifié par Karohoh, 12 septembre 2010 - 02:43 .
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