PG-13 for some violence, but it's pretty tame.
This story is (mostly) set during the first game, at some undetermined point in my Warden's adventures. The events don't actually occur during the game, but it could have happened offscreen while the Warden was wandering the countryside.
This story is just about getting an outside perspective on the Blight, as well as to convey a little bit of how monstrous the darkspawn would be to one of their victims. It's mostly in the Thud and Blunder vein, which I like as a genre.
Heroes and Monsters
Débuté par
thats1evildude
, août 03 2011 02:20
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Posté 03 août 2011 - 02:23
thats1evildude
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Back in the days before the sickness claimed her, my mother once told me about monsters.
My parents didn’t believe in sheltering me from the horrors of the world. Before I was ten, I had
already heard all about the terrible things that men were capable of.
My mother and father had already warned me about the bandits that lurked in the forests beyond our village, and the slavers that prowled the back alleys of the cities. I had already heard about how adults could pretend to be helpful while intending harm, and how easily a smile could mask a dark purpose.
I already knew about the dangers of war, and the capriciousness of tyrants. I had heard about the oppression of the Orlesian Empire that ruled Ferelden only two decades before my birth, and about the cruelty of the Tevinter Imperium.
But on one bright summer day, when the trees in our front yard cast thick shadows across the
yard, my mother beckoned me to sit with her and listen to a story about the monsters that lurked deep within the earth.
These were creatures spawned by the darkness itself, descended from arrogant men who sought to usurp
heaven. They were twisted and inhuman, more like rotted corpses than men, elves and dwarves. They came in all shapes and sizes, but they were united by a single purpose: to wipe out all life from the face of Thedas.
These monsters remained underground until they found one of the Old Gods of the Tevinter Imperium, which would lead them to the surface in a great uprising known as a Blight.
“One day, perhaps in your lifetime, another Blight will come, Claire. And if you should ever face one of these darkspawn, you must run.”
Her voice lowered, as though she were stressing the gravity of her words. “Run as fast as you can.”
Those were in the days when my mother was still able to walk on her own, before a wasting disease
confined her to a bed. In the years that followed, I reflected on her words and wondered if anything in the world could truly be as terrible as seeing your mother wither away to nothing, or the sight of your father clutching and weeping over her corpse.
But that was until the day I saw a real monster stroll out of my nightmares and into the light of day.
***
The day the darkspawn descended on our village was a day like any other. Summer was long behind us and we were nearing the end of fall. It was unremarkable. There were no signs of what was to come, no howls in the night or crops turning inexplicably black as though an early frost had set in.
Oh, I’ve heard of what it was like in the south: blackened skies, clouds of dust blowing everywhere, the dead and dying everywhere. Whole fields of corpses, not all of them human.
But there was none of that where we lived. As far north as we were, the Blight seemed distant. It was an afterthought, the subject of hushed whispers in the tavern.
I never really knew how close it was.
I was lounging around the house that afternoon, having finished my chores earlier that morning. My father was chopping wood in our front yard when he asked me to fetch some berries for
supper. Happy for something to do, I bounded off, pretending not to hear my
father’s warning not to venture too far into the woods.
I wasn’t afraid of the forest, even though I knew all too well of its dangers. I had spent most of my life in the small cluster of houses that made up our community, and even venturing a short distance into the woods seemed like an adventure. I frequently imagined stumbling across a Tevinter ruin deep amidst the trees, or perhaps encountering a band of Dalish elves on their way to a new hunting ground. How exciting that would be!
I was perhaps a mile away from our house when I spotted a large shape in the undergrowth a stone's throw ahead.
My first impression was that of a child was crouching amidst the bushes, hiding from sight. It was too short to be an adult — it couldn’t have been no more than three or four feet tall. And it wouldn’t have been the first time I had found a child out in these woods that had wandered away from the village.
So I called out to it.
“Hey! Hey you! What are you doing out here?” I shouted.
It seemed to hear me, for it stood up almost immediately. Slowly, and with great deliberation, it turned and emerged from the bushes. And when it stood in full daylight, the sight of the creature made me freeze in horror.
Its thin slit of a mouth was stretched impossibly wide into a smile devoid of mirth. Needle-like fangs gleamed in its mouth. Its short, stout body was clad in a patchwork of leather and chainmail, and one hand was gripped around a mace lined with spikes. A long, ugly scar ran from one corner of its face to the other, reducing one of its eye sockets to a black pit.
The genlock let out a short, chortling laugh, and then it started to advance.
I stepped back, intending to turn and run, but I came to a sudden stop when I collided with something behind me. I wheeled around to see the face of death.
The hurlock was taller than its counterpart and more human-like, but no less bestial. It was
even but it was unmistakably alive. Claire fought down the urge to vomit as the stench emanating from the
darkspawn filled her nostrils. It raised a jagged, blood-stained sword and pointed it at my throat.
They might have caught me then, if I didn’t hear my mother’s voice screaming in my head.
Run, Claire, she shouted. Run as fast as you can.
The sword came sweeping at my head a second too late, as I was already moving. I headed straight for my village. I could hear the darkspawn chasing after me, their armoured boots crunching on fallen branches and leaves.
I have to warn everyone! I have to warn Father!
I looked back only once, when I reached the tree line. The two darkspawn were now joined by a dozen others of varying sizes, including one monster that was bent over like an animal and had the elongated head of a jackal.
Something went whistling by my ear. I spun on my heels and saw what had nearly hit me: a black arrow, embedded in an old tree just to my left. My mind just barely registered how close I had come to death.
I ran into the village, shouting that the monsters were coming. But my warnings were unnecessary: the darkspawn had already beaten me there.
All around me, houses were being set aflame, and the air was filled with terrified screams. Squads of darkspawn went from building to building, kicking in doors and dragging out the fearful inhabitants, children and families I had known her entire life.
I realize now that the darkspawn must have attacked the village from all sides, and the creatures I met in the woods were set there to ambush anyone trying to flee into the forest. I was only spared the initial attack thanks to my father sending me out.
So I had made it back to the village. Now what? I was surrounded by darkspawn. A few villagers were desperately trying to fend off the attack, but they were hopelessly outmatched and outnumbered. It seemed like there were dozens of them.
I headed for my own house, hoping to find my father there. But the front yard was empty, and my father’s axe was lying on the ground as though it had dropped hurriedly.
I heard the howls of the darkspawn behind me. There was no time to run anywhere else. My only hope was to hide.
I ran into my house and slammed the door. A quick scan of the interior showed that the place was empty. My heart was pounding so loudly that I could barely think, but I had enough presence of mind to slip the bar across the door before I made my way over to a dresser and opened the doors.
I put my back to the wall and slid down. I cupped my hands over my ears and fought down a stream of tears as I tried to ignore the screams of my neighbours somewhere in the distance.
Maker, why is this happening?
Again, my mother’s voice echoed in my mind, this time her tone reassuring. Stay calm. It will all be over soon.
Suddenly, I heard a loud thump. I pushed open the dresser doors enough to peek outside and saw the front door shudder, accompanied by another thump.
The darkspawn had followed me here and were trying to break in.
It trembled twice more before the pounding stopped. She suddenly felt a glimmer of hope; perhaps the darkspawn had given up trying to get into the house, and were now set on finding some other prey.
But no. The door abruptly exploded as if by magic, shattering into a thousand wooden splinters. I stifled a scream and pushed the doors of the cabinet shut.
Heavy footsteps filled my house as I curled myself into a ball, trying to make myself as small as a mouse, as small as an insect. If I was too tiny to notice, maybe I would survive this nightmare.
An eternity seemed to pass as I cringed and waited for the inevitable. Finally, when it felt like my heart was going to burst from fear and worry, the cabinet doors were thrown open.
Standing above me was a tall hurlock, wielding a long wooden staff that crackled with blue energy, its bald head topped by an elaborate head-dress. Its throat-slash of smile widened as I stared up at it, my body trembling.
The emissary reached down and snatched up a handful of my hair before dragging me from the dresser, making no attempt to be gentle. I screamed then, more in pain than fear, and clawed at its hand to make it release me. But it was too strong.
The hurlock pulled me through the cabin and into the front yard outside. There were more darkspawn out there, gathered in a half-circle, howling and waving their weapons in the air. In the distance, there were fires burning everywhere, and smoke arched high into the clear sky; it seemed as though the entire village was ablaze.
The emissary threw me to the ground, and I landed a few feet away from the tall tree in their front yard. Sobbing, I rose from the dirt and settled into a crouching position.
A genlock stepped in front of me. The scar that ran across its face was unmistakable; it was the first darkspawn I had seen in the forest … except it had sheathed its weapon, and its meaty fists were now clenching a rope and noose.
I didn’t bother to beg for mercy. What was the point? I hadn’t run fast enough or far enough. The monsters had caught me and now I was going to die. I sat there passively as the darkspawn slipped the noose over her head, and she only grunted slightly as it tightened the rope around her neck.
If the scarred genlock was impressed by my courage, it gave no sign. Turning away, it then threw the other end of the rope over a nearby overhanging branch.
I looked up at the tree above me, the one that had stood in my front yard all my life. In amoment, the genlock would hoist me into the air, and the life would be choked from me. Slowly. Painfully. It was not a pleasant way to die, but staring at the genlock's rotted face, I could think of worse.
I closed my eyes. If what the Chantry mothers said was true, I would soon be reunited with her mother. In those final moments, I imagined her face, and she was smiling.
Be strong, my darling, she said softly.
The genlock gripped the rope tightly in both hands, and then began to pull.
Suddenly, the darkspawn’s eyes went wide, and its body jerked violently as the point of a blade erupted from the centre of its chest, sending out a spray of dark red blood.
The darkspawn let the rope fall from its hands and stared dumbly at the blade emerging from its ribcage. As the blade slid away, it pressed both paws over the gaping wound, then toppled over.
Behind it was an elf, wielding a longsword and a short dagger. His face and short blonde hair was spotted with drops of the creature’s blood, as was his studded leather armour. He had approached so quietly that no one, not me, not the darkspawn, even realized he was there.
Suddenly, the air was filled not with the screams of terrified villagers, but the anguished howls of the other darkspawn.
The nearest hurlock charged the elf. With blinding speed, he batted aside his opponent’s sword and slashed the darkspawn’s leg, then carried through with the momentum of his attack and sank the dagger into its belly, dealing it a fatal wound.
Several more darkspawn stampeded towards the elf. His hand moved to his waist to fetch a vial that was hanging off his belt. Deftly, he tossed it into their midst and a plume of fire and smoke suddenly rose into the air, the flames licking the corrupted flesh of the creatures.
He then swept through the ranks, moving so swiftly that I could barely track the swing of his blades. One fell, then two, until finally the darkspawn recovered and retaliated. But it was too late, and soon the elf was ringed by corpses.
The hurlock emissary pointed its staff at the elf, and a bolt of lightning sprang from the head of the staff to collide with the elf. He staggered back with a pained grunt, nearly tripping and falling over a hurlock’s corpse.
Thin trails of smoke rising off of his armor, the elf looked at the emissary and grinned. “Is it just me, or do you actually think you have a chance?” he said.
The emissary snarled in frustration and raised its staff high in the air. It began chanting under its breath, and a ball of buzzing blue energy appeared above its head.
The elf threw another vial to the ground and a cloud of mist spurted from the broken container. He disappeared into it, as silent as a wraith.
I watched, eyes wide, as the emissary flung its spell at the mist. Its passage swept through it and continued flying through the air, finally erupting into a explosion of energy several metres away. I covered my eyes with both hands, unable to stand the glare.
I opened them again when I heard a guttural scream of pain. I glanced behind me to see that the elf had somehow re-appeared behind the emissary and thrust both blades into its back. The emissary staggered a few paces before sinking to its knees.
The elf then swung both sword and dagger in a wide arc, decapitating the emissary. Its head landed a few feet away with a wet thud and rolled around the ground.
I watched all of this with amazement, too dumbstruck to even remove the noose, which now hung limply around my neck. His face still spattered with darkspawn blood, the elf sheathed one of his blades and ran up to me, extending his hand.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
I stared at him for a moment, still a bewildered. I then accepted his offer and was pulled to my feet.
“I’m … I’m fine,” I replied, finally gaining the presence of mind to take off the rope. I let it fall to the blood-soaked ground.
The elf nodded. “Listen, I can’t stay here. My companions are fighting darkspawn elsewhere in your village and I need to go help them. Do you know where your parents are?”
I shook my head. “My father,” she blurted out. “I can’t find him.”
“He might still be alive. There are some people barricaded in the tavern. But you should go find another hiding place for now, somewhere close. Can you think of a good place?”
“Our cellar,” I replied. “There’s a door … It’s around the back of the house.”
“That sounds good. All right, I’ve got to go. Keep safe.”
He then turned to leave. Without thinking, I grabbed his hand with both of mine, clutching it tightly. The elf looked back at me, surprised.
“Thank you,” I blurted out. “Thank you for saving me.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
The elf gently pulled his hand away and headed towards the centre of the village, where the sounds of fighting were the loudest. I watched him go, both hands clasped over my heart.
***
Many people in our village died that day, and nearly half of the buildings were destroyed. But those who survived agreed that it could have been so much worse, had it not been for the intervention of the Hero of Ferelden.
Sometimes, I feel a little bit guilty that we were so lucky. Ours wasn’t the first village to be attacked during the Blight, or even the last. So many people died or were displaced because of the darkspawn.
I got to keep my home, and at the end of that terrible day, I got to see my father again. Before then, I had only seen
my father cry once, at my mother’s bedside. On that day, as he held me tightly in his arms, I heard him sobbing in joy.
In those days, it seemed like the end of the world was upon us. But even though the Hero saved us from the Blight, the world continued its steady march into darkness. There’s nothing but talk of doom these days: talk of a war between the Chantry and the mages, rumours of another Blight, and whispers of something worse on the horizon.
And on a personal front, I fear for my own future. This pregnancy has been hard on me, and I’ve spent more days
bedridden than I care to count. Your father whispers assurances to me, telling me that everything will be all
right, but the worry in his eyes and in his expression is evident.
I wrote this for you, my darling, on the chance that I won’t get to see you grow up. Someone needs to tell you
about all the dangers of the world, of the monsters that lurk in shadows.
But you also need to know that even in a world filled to the brim with shadows, there is a glimmer of light.
There are monsters in the world, my darling. But there are also heroes.
THE END
My parents didn’t believe in sheltering me from the horrors of the world. Before I was ten, I had
already heard all about the terrible things that men were capable of.
My mother and father had already warned me about the bandits that lurked in the forests beyond our village, and the slavers that prowled the back alleys of the cities. I had already heard about how adults could pretend to be helpful while intending harm, and how easily a smile could mask a dark purpose.
I already knew about the dangers of war, and the capriciousness of tyrants. I had heard about the oppression of the Orlesian Empire that ruled Ferelden only two decades before my birth, and about the cruelty of the Tevinter Imperium.
But on one bright summer day, when the trees in our front yard cast thick shadows across the
yard, my mother beckoned me to sit with her and listen to a story about the monsters that lurked deep within the earth.
These were creatures spawned by the darkness itself, descended from arrogant men who sought to usurp
heaven. They were twisted and inhuman, more like rotted corpses than men, elves and dwarves. They came in all shapes and sizes, but they were united by a single purpose: to wipe out all life from the face of Thedas.
These monsters remained underground until they found one of the Old Gods of the Tevinter Imperium, which would lead them to the surface in a great uprising known as a Blight.
“One day, perhaps in your lifetime, another Blight will come, Claire. And if you should ever face one of these darkspawn, you must run.”
Her voice lowered, as though she were stressing the gravity of her words. “Run as fast as you can.”
Those were in the days when my mother was still able to walk on her own, before a wasting disease
confined her to a bed. In the years that followed, I reflected on her words and wondered if anything in the world could truly be as terrible as seeing your mother wither away to nothing, or the sight of your father clutching and weeping over her corpse.
But that was until the day I saw a real monster stroll out of my nightmares and into the light of day.
***
The day the darkspawn descended on our village was a day like any other. Summer was long behind us and we were nearing the end of fall. It was unremarkable. There were no signs of what was to come, no howls in the night or crops turning inexplicably black as though an early frost had set in.
Oh, I’ve heard of what it was like in the south: blackened skies, clouds of dust blowing everywhere, the dead and dying everywhere. Whole fields of corpses, not all of them human.
But there was none of that where we lived. As far north as we were, the Blight seemed distant. It was an afterthought, the subject of hushed whispers in the tavern.
I never really knew how close it was.
I was lounging around the house that afternoon, having finished my chores earlier that morning. My father was chopping wood in our front yard when he asked me to fetch some berries for
supper. Happy for something to do, I bounded off, pretending not to hear my
father’s warning not to venture too far into the woods.
I wasn’t afraid of the forest, even though I knew all too well of its dangers. I had spent most of my life in the small cluster of houses that made up our community, and even venturing a short distance into the woods seemed like an adventure. I frequently imagined stumbling across a Tevinter ruin deep amidst the trees, or perhaps encountering a band of Dalish elves on their way to a new hunting ground. How exciting that would be!
I was perhaps a mile away from our house when I spotted a large shape in the undergrowth a stone's throw ahead.
My first impression was that of a child was crouching amidst the bushes, hiding from sight. It was too short to be an adult — it couldn’t have been no more than three or four feet tall. And it wouldn’t have been the first time I had found a child out in these woods that had wandered away from the village.
So I called out to it.
“Hey! Hey you! What are you doing out here?” I shouted.
It seemed to hear me, for it stood up almost immediately. Slowly, and with great deliberation, it turned and emerged from the bushes. And when it stood in full daylight, the sight of the creature made me freeze in horror.
Its thin slit of a mouth was stretched impossibly wide into a smile devoid of mirth. Needle-like fangs gleamed in its mouth. Its short, stout body was clad in a patchwork of leather and chainmail, and one hand was gripped around a mace lined with spikes. A long, ugly scar ran from one corner of its face to the other, reducing one of its eye sockets to a black pit.
The genlock let out a short, chortling laugh, and then it started to advance.
I stepped back, intending to turn and run, but I came to a sudden stop when I collided with something behind me. I wheeled around to see the face of death.
The hurlock was taller than its counterpart and more human-like, but no less bestial. It was
even but it was unmistakably alive. Claire fought down the urge to vomit as the stench emanating from the
darkspawn filled her nostrils. It raised a jagged, blood-stained sword and pointed it at my throat.
They might have caught me then, if I didn’t hear my mother’s voice screaming in my head.
Run, Claire, she shouted. Run as fast as you can.
The sword came sweeping at my head a second too late, as I was already moving. I headed straight for my village. I could hear the darkspawn chasing after me, their armoured boots crunching on fallen branches and leaves.
I have to warn everyone! I have to warn Father!
I looked back only once, when I reached the tree line. The two darkspawn were now joined by a dozen others of varying sizes, including one monster that was bent over like an animal and had the elongated head of a jackal.
Something went whistling by my ear. I spun on my heels and saw what had nearly hit me: a black arrow, embedded in an old tree just to my left. My mind just barely registered how close I had come to death.
I ran into the village, shouting that the monsters were coming. But my warnings were unnecessary: the darkspawn had already beaten me there.
All around me, houses were being set aflame, and the air was filled with terrified screams. Squads of darkspawn went from building to building, kicking in doors and dragging out the fearful inhabitants, children and families I had known her entire life.
I realize now that the darkspawn must have attacked the village from all sides, and the creatures I met in the woods were set there to ambush anyone trying to flee into the forest. I was only spared the initial attack thanks to my father sending me out.
So I had made it back to the village. Now what? I was surrounded by darkspawn. A few villagers were desperately trying to fend off the attack, but they were hopelessly outmatched and outnumbered. It seemed like there were dozens of them.
I headed for my own house, hoping to find my father there. But the front yard was empty, and my father’s axe was lying on the ground as though it had dropped hurriedly.
I heard the howls of the darkspawn behind me. There was no time to run anywhere else. My only hope was to hide.
I ran into my house and slammed the door. A quick scan of the interior showed that the place was empty. My heart was pounding so loudly that I could barely think, but I had enough presence of mind to slip the bar across the door before I made my way over to a dresser and opened the doors.
I put my back to the wall and slid down. I cupped my hands over my ears and fought down a stream of tears as I tried to ignore the screams of my neighbours somewhere in the distance.
Maker, why is this happening?
Again, my mother’s voice echoed in my mind, this time her tone reassuring. Stay calm. It will all be over soon.
Suddenly, I heard a loud thump. I pushed open the dresser doors enough to peek outside and saw the front door shudder, accompanied by another thump.
The darkspawn had followed me here and were trying to break in.
It trembled twice more before the pounding stopped. She suddenly felt a glimmer of hope; perhaps the darkspawn had given up trying to get into the house, and were now set on finding some other prey.
But no. The door abruptly exploded as if by magic, shattering into a thousand wooden splinters. I stifled a scream and pushed the doors of the cabinet shut.
Heavy footsteps filled my house as I curled myself into a ball, trying to make myself as small as a mouse, as small as an insect. If I was too tiny to notice, maybe I would survive this nightmare.
An eternity seemed to pass as I cringed and waited for the inevitable. Finally, when it felt like my heart was going to burst from fear and worry, the cabinet doors were thrown open.
Standing above me was a tall hurlock, wielding a long wooden staff that crackled with blue energy, its bald head topped by an elaborate head-dress. Its throat-slash of smile widened as I stared up at it, my body trembling.
The emissary reached down and snatched up a handful of my hair before dragging me from the dresser, making no attempt to be gentle. I screamed then, more in pain than fear, and clawed at its hand to make it release me. But it was too strong.
The hurlock pulled me through the cabin and into the front yard outside. There were more darkspawn out there, gathered in a half-circle, howling and waving their weapons in the air. In the distance, there were fires burning everywhere, and smoke arched high into the clear sky; it seemed as though the entire village was ablaze.
The emissary threw me to the ground, and I landed a few feet away from the tall tree in their front yard. Sobbing, I rose from the dirt and settled into a crouching position.
A genlock stepped in front of me. The scar that ran across its face was unmistakable; it was the first darkspawn I had seen in the forest … except it had sheathed its weapon, and its meaty fists were now clenching a rope and noose.
I didn’t bother to beg for mercy. What was the point? I hadn’t run fast enough or far enough. The monsters had caught me and now I was going to die. I sat there passively as the darkspawn slipped the noose over her head, and she only grunted slightly as it tightened the rope around her neck.
If the scarred genlock was impressed by my courage, it gave no sign. Turning away, it then threw the other end of the rope over a nearby overhanging branch.
I looked up at the tree above me, the one that had stood in my front yard all my life. In amoment, the genlock would hoist me into the air, and the life would be choked from me. Slowly. Painfully. It was not a pleasant way to die, but staring at the genlock's rotted face, I could think of worse.
I closed my eyes. If what the Chantry mothers said was true, I would soon be reunited with her mother. In those final moments, I imagined her face, and she was smiling.
Be strong, my darling, she said softly.
The genlock gripped the rope tightly in both hands, and then began to pull.
Suddenly, the darkspawn’s eyes went wide, and its body jerked violently as the point of a blade erupted from the centre of its chest, sending out a spray of dark red blood.
The darkspawn let the rope fall from its hands and stared dumbly at the blade emerging from its ribcage. As the blade slid away, it pressed both paws over the gaping wound, then toppled over.
Behind it was an elf, wielding a longsword and a short dagger. His face and short blonde hair was spotted with drops of the creature’s blood, as was his studded leather armour. He had approached so quietly that no one, not me, not the darkspawn, even realized he was there.
Suddenly, the air was filled not with the screams of terrified villagers, but the anguished howls of the other darkspawn.
The nearest hurlock charged the elf. With blinding speed, he batted aside his opponent’s sword and slashed the darkspawn’s leg, then carried through with the momentum of his attack and sank the dagger into its belly, dealing it a fatal wound.
Several more darkspawn stampeded towards the elf. His hand moved to his waist to fetch a vial that was hanging off his belt. Deftly, he tossed it into their midst and a plume of fire and smoke suddenly rose into the air, the flames licking the corrupted flesh of the creatures.
He then swept through the ranks, moving so swiftly that I could barely track the swing of his blades. One fell, then two, until finally the darkspawn recovered and retaliated. But it was too late, and soon the elf was ringed by corpses.
The hurlock emissary pointed its staff at the elf, and a bolt of lightning sprang from the head of the staff to collide with the elf. He staggered back with a pained grunt, nearly tripping and falling over a hurlock’s corpse.
Thin trails of smoke rising off of his armor, the elf looked at the emissary and grinned. “Is it just me, or do you actually think you have a chance?” he said.
The emissary snarled in frustration and raised its staff high in the air. It began chanting under its breath, and a ball of buzzing blue energy appeared above its head.
The elf threw another vial to the ground and a cloud of mist spurted from the broken container. He disappeared into it, as silent as a wraith.
I watched, eyes wide, as the emissary flung its spell at the mist. Its passage swept through it and continued flying through the air, finally erupting into a explosion of energy several metres away. I covered my eyes with both hands, unable to stand the glare.
I opened them again when I heard a guttural scream of pain. I glanced behind me to see that the elf had somehow re-appeared behind the emissary and thrust both blades into its back. The emissary staggered a few paces before sinking to its knees.
The elf then swung both sword and dagger in a wide arc, decapitating the emissary. Its head landed a few feet away with a wet thud and rolled around the ground.
I watched all of this with amazement, too dumbstruck to even remove the noose, which now hung limply around my neck. His face still spattered with darkspawn blood, the elf sheathed one of his blades and ran up to me, extending his hand.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
I stared at him for a moment, still a bewildered. I then accepted his offer and was pulled to my feet.
“I’m … I’m fine,” I replied, finally gaining the presence of mind to take off the rope. I let it fall to the blood-soaked ground.
The elf nodded. “Listen, I can’t stay here. My companions are fighting darkspawn elsewhere in your village and I need to go help them. Do you know where your parents are?”
I shook my head. “My father,” she blurted out. “I can’t find him.”
“He might still be alive. There are some people barricaded in the tavern. But you should go find another hiding place for now, somewhere close. Can you think of a good place?”
“Our cellar,” I replied. “There’s a door … It’s around the back of the house.”
“That sounds good. All right, I’ve got to go. Keep safe.”
He then turned to leave. Without thinking, I grabbed his hand with both of mine, clutching it tightly. The elf looked back at me, surprised.
“Thank you,” I blurted out. “Thank you for saving me.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
The elf gently pulled his hand away and headed towards the centre of the village, where the sounds of fighting were the loudest. I watched him go, both hands clasped over my heart.
***
Many people in our village died that day, and nearly half of the buildings were destroyed. But those who survived agreed that it could have been so much worse, had it not been for the intervention of the Hero of Ferelden.
Sometimes, I feel a little bit guilty that we were so lucky. Ours wasn’t the first village to be attacked during the Blight, or even the last. So many people died or were displaced because of the darkspawn.
I got to keep my home, and at the end of that terrible day, I got to see my father again. Before then, I had only seen
my father cry once, at my mother’s bedside. On that day, as he held me tightly in his arms, I heard him sobbing in joy.
In those days, it seemed like the end of the world was upon us. But even though the Hero saved us from the Blight, the world continued its steady march into darkness. There’s nothing but talk of doom these days: talk of a war between the Chantry and the mages, rumours of another Blight, and whispers of something worse on the horizon.
And on a personal front, I fear for my own future. This pregnancy has been hard on me, and I’ve spent more days
bedridden than I care to count. Your father whispers assurances to me, telling me that everything will be all
right, but the worry in his eyes and in his expression is evident.
I wrote this for you, my darling, on the chance that I won’t get to see you grow up. Someone needs to tell you
about all the dangers of the world, of the monsters that lurk in shadows.
But you also need to know that even in a world filled to the brim with shadows, there is a glimmer of light.
There are monsters in the world, my darling. But there are also heroes.
THE END
Modifié par thats1evildude, 17 octobre 2011 - 11:25 .
