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[Hecthorn]

The Long Road: Morrigan's Tale

This fanfiction is about the witch Morrigan and her journey to Orlais, after the Warden denied her the ritual and she left him in wrath on the eve of battle.

During this journey however, she encounters someone she didn't expect to meet and nothing works out as expected.

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Table of Contents:
Chapter 1 - As the Raven flies
Chapter 2 - The Huntress and her Prey
Chapter 3 - The false Templar
Chapter 4 - Sweet Nightmare
Chapter 5 - Mommy?
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Chapter 1 – As the Raven flies

“No, I will not reconsider. The answer is no.”
“Then you are a fool!”
“I will not stand by and watch you waste this opportunity. Die, if you feel it is worthwhile or be overshadowed. I can’t.”
“Please, don’t do this. Don’t go.”
"I would that I could have helped you. That is your doing however, and not mine. Fare you well, my love. Should you live past tomorrow, I trust it will only be with regret.”

Furious about him and herself, she left the room.

She walked only at a slow pace, her heart telling her to turn around and to spend the last hours of the night with her love before he would sacrifice himself in the fight against the archdemon. She risked a glance back to the fire, to where her beloved stood.
He didn’t look after her. Instead, he remained staring into the flames of the fireside. They were burning every inch of the wood pieces, as if eager to destroy every single one of it.
It seemed to her that her heart was currently doing the same to her brain.

Stay with him.

But she forced herself to withstand the urge to turn around and walk back.
He had made his decision.
As had Morrigan.
And both would now have to bear the consequences.

Morrigan slipped out of the wooden door, turning immediately into the shape of a grey wolf.
Whilst she ran down the hallway, her thoughts were still circling around what had just happened. The only love, the only person she had ever allowed herself to have feelings for, important feelings that went beyond a normal friendship, had denied to lay with her.
He refused to become the father of a child that he would never see and that would have nothing of him in its features, for it would be the incarnation of an ancient god.

That was the true reason why she was sent with him and why Flemeth had rescued him from the Tower of Ishal.

Much had changed since these days, although it had happened less than two months ago. So much had changed within this short time span. She had allowed her feelings –her heart- to start thinking and its thoughts had grown louder and louder, until it swallowed the voice of her brain, the rationality that was given to her by her life in the Wilds. And now she was in a position she had never wanted to get into.
She regretted leaving him back there, in his room doing nothing but staring into the flames.
The hate on herself grew with every step of the wolf.
For the first time in weeks, her brain spoke loud enough to drown the voice of her heart in its sound.

 The ritual was the only reason why you followed him. He denied it to you. You’ve done your duty. Leave. Go your way, but do not allow this man to drag you into desperation. He isn’t worth it.

Still running, the wolf transformed again, this time into a raven with feathers as dark as the night. With only a few strokes of its wings, the bird rose to the hallway’s ceiling and flew through a wide crenel out into the night.

Morrigan left the relative warmth of the castle, trading it for the cold night outside. Her thick feathers prevented her
from freezing. The sky was clear, enlightened by the moon and an uncountable amount of stars. All this light was reflected by the waters of Lake Calenhad, who stretched out right beneath her wings.

She allowed a cold breeze to carry her north, away from Redcliffe Castle to the center of the lake.
The flight was refreshing to Morrigan, giving her an unthinkably great feeling of freedom. Although her thoughts sometimes returned to her heart, which she had apparently left behind in her beloved’s bedroom.

She felt even more liberated as she had with Flemeth in the Wilds. Morrigan was on her own now. Completely.
There was no Flemeth.
There were no other persons.
Up here in the air, there was only her mind.
It told her to go anywhere, as long as it was out of Ferelden and away from this Grey Warden she had –no, still- loved. 

So where should she go?
Back into the Wilds was not an option. Although she was dead, slain by her beloved to protect her, the soul of her mother probably still lurked through the woods, searching for a new body -no, a new hull- to live in. And as she preferred to choose the bodies of her daughters as her next physical incarnation, it was a bad idea to return there.
With this said, only North and West remained.
North, over the Waking Sea to the realms Nevarra and Tevinter.
West, beyond the Frostback Mountains into the empire of Orlais.

The raven started to circle above the lake. Redcliffe Castle was nothing but a slight silhouette at the horizon, far off her current location.

Her mind had finally succeeded in telling her heart that the end of her relationship to him was not her fault, that they weren’t separated because she left him alone just a few hours ago. Slowly, her cold rationality returned again.

Why not Orlais?
The home of the Chevaliers and the Chantry was surely worth visiting. Leliana had often spoken of many intrigues at the Orlesian court, so a witch might be of use for some members of the nobility.
And if it didn’t fit her, she could still move on to another country.

But for now, she had to land on some solid ground. She could not transform into a fish and her powers were slowly drained from her.

Keeping her body in the shape of a raven was one thing, but keeping it up for such a long time when flying through the air was far more exhausting.

Not to speak of the horrible urge to scratch her plumage with her spout. In fact, this urge was driving her mad.

Three hours as an animal were definitely a time too long. With every second, more of the human mind of the sorcerer was absorbed by the habits and thoughts of the animal he or she had turned into. There even existed myths and legends about mages that were unable to transform back into their human bodies after staying an animal for too long.

One of those myths told about a jealous woman named Loriana. It was said that, hundreds of years ago, she married a beautiful man, a man who always had other women around him that did obviously not understand why he had married her, for she didn’t belong to the beauties of the village. Loriana looked to it with anger and grief, feeling worthless and unwanted when they were around. Those feelings increased as the time passed, especially as it became clear, that she would never be able to give birth to children. As the village’s druid had informed her about this horrible fact, she went into the woods every day, where she found an old which that was willing to teach her how to transform her body into a crow. After months of hard training, Loriana finally succeeded in transforming herself into a crow’s shape and to use this body. From that time, she always followed her husband, wherever he went. One day, her husband joined had joined a merchant’s trail as a mercenary. Out of fear he might leave her on this occasion, she changed in the crow’s shape once more and followed the convoy, always watching even the slightest movements of her husband. He was unaware of being watched and as the time passed by, Loriana herself started to become unaware of the reason why she followed the convoy. Every day, she was more crow than human being and in the end, only the crow was left. And as her husband returned home, having earned enough money to bring them both through the coming winter, he found an empty hut with no one
waiting for him.
And no one knew where Loriana had gone.

Flemeth had always told her this legend as she taught Morrigan how to take up the shape of different animals.
And she did not want to end like the woman in the myth.

The idea made her frown and the raven increased its pace.

Her mother had told her a plenty of useful things and skills. Morrigan had always been thankful for this, especially since this had given her the basic knowledge for all the spells she had learned when travelling with the Grey Warden.

After another three hours, the raven landed smoothly upon the western banks of Lake Calenhad. As soon as one of his spiked toes had reached the muddy ground, he changed into a beautiful young woman.
The urge to scratch her feathers faded away slowly, whereas her human thoughts and beings hit her like the mighty blow of a blacksmith’s hammer.

Once again, she thought of her love.
She could feel, that his last hours wereapproaching.

Morrigan sighed desperately.
How could she have allowed herself to have feelings towards any other being than hers?
She sighed again and turned around, looking at the lake.

The weak light of the dawning sun shone upon its surface, dancing on the waves. There was no sign of Redcliffe Castle at the horizon anymore. At her current location, horizon could barely be seen at all.
There was just water. Endless water.

Her stomach growled loudly and a hopeful smile appeared on her face. Perhaps here, so far away from him and his stubborn sacrifice, she would manage to get over him.

But now, it was time to get something to eat. The hours of flight had cost her much of her energy and she felt merely empty. Like she was unable to do anything until she had eaten anything.
Or until she had overcome her hopeless love to the Grey Warden.

For now, breakfast appeared to be the easier choice to fill the emptiness. And so she turned her back to the huge lake and stepped into the thick forest that covered the bank as far as she could see. To her surprise, there seemed to be no fishing villages directly at the lake. She wasn’t eager to meet anybody at all, but this seemed nonetheless a bit weird to her, as humans tended to settle wherever they could.

But what did she care?

Modifié par Hecthorn, 14 avril 2010 - 03:47 .

[Hecthorn]

Obviously some weird mistake in my post, sry folks.



Correcting by now...

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

I did that on my first post, too. Use the BB code button. Really wish these forums had a preview pane!

[Hecthorn]

Me too, me too...

Thanks, I'll try...

Edit:
Ha, it works. Thanks again for the hint.

Modifié par Hecthorn, 17 janvier 2010 - 10:40 .

[Shadow of Light Dragon]

NP. For a someone who doesn't have English as a native language, you have a pretty good command of it. Nice work.

[tevikolady]

really good story!!

[Hecthorn]

Thanks for the kind answers.
Here's the next one for you folks, hope you like it.
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Chapter 2 – The Huntress and her Prey

Morrigan was hiking through the woods for over an hour now. The rising sun was spending only little light that was mostly swallowed by the leaves of the tall trees that stood nearly everywhere around her. She had walked in a western direction, the sun constantly being in her back.
When she was already hunting, she could as well connect this to her journey towards the Imperial Highway. And the path to this road led to the West, away from the lake.
She planned to use this ancient road to get directly to Orlais.
At least for as long as it wasn’t too haunted by Darkspawn.
She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but on her own, larger groups of Hurlocks and the like were difficult to defeat or to hide from. Other mages –like Darkspawn-mages- were able to see the true shape of a mage when he had turned in an animal’s figure. So transforming granted no efficient way of hiding from them. And she didn’t want to take up the risk of being discovered by a huge mass of those monsters.

She moved swiftly through the forest, causing not even the slightest noise. Her wooden staff was hanging across her back, fastened by a thin belt made from fine leather which allowed her to easily drag the staff if needed. In addition to this, she wore a small dagger that was well-hidden within a small sheath that was worked into one of her boots.
Morrigan also carried a rather heavy bag which was attached to another, broader leather belt. This one was slung across her other shoulder. She had bought it from the dwarven merchant Bodahn Feddic and had received a notable discount on it. The bag was good, carrying the weight of two heavy books –Flemeth’s grimoires which the Warden had brought to her- and some Lyrium potions. That was all she carried with her, for she hadn’t packed anything before leaving Redcliffe Castle.

A cold wind blew through the forest and made the leaves rustle.
Her body was tensed, her hands ready to throw an Arcane Bolt at whatever prey would be so misfortunate to cross her path.
Slowly, she moved on whilst her yellow eyes browsed the surrounding area for any sign of a living animal she could kill and eat.
Her stomach growled once again.
She had eaten nothing since noon of the last day because she had spent the afternoon to prepare the ritual, which had, in the end, never happened.

Just because he…

No.
She swallowed.
She would not allow herself to think about that mess for the days to come. It would just open wounds time and oblivion would heal soon enough. He wasn’t worth bothering with anymore. He had refused to spend the night with her, and so he could as well die through his stubborn decision.
Time would heal the deep cut in her heart.
At least that was what her brain told her. And she liked to hear this, again and again, whenever her thoughts would come across this matter.

Do not lose yourself in thought, Morrigan. You’ve got more urgent problems to deal with.

The witch shook her head and continued to move forward through the woods.
The ground was covered with old, rotten leaves and, in some places, the trunks of fallen trees lay across her path, offering a home to numerous insects and mushrooms.
Although those trees stood and lay far from the Korcari Wilds, she felt some kind of familiarity when wandering amongst them.

Morrigan allowed herself to take a deep breath.
Enjoying the odor, she went on again.
It smelled of all the other beings and things around her. Small bugs, many different kinds of mushrooms, the different trees, the birds sleeping in their nests high above her head….
And a faint foulness.

She froze immediately, her yellow eyes widening in shock.
Her lips silently formed the word that belonged to this deadly smell.

Darkspawn.

She browsed the gaps between the trees ahead of her. The breeze that carried the odor came from the south. The foulness in the smell grew with every second that passed. This group of Darkspawn was definitely too large to deal with it on her own. And her interest in losing her life by trying anyway was very small.

The witch turned north and started to run. Her steps were no longer small and cautious, but fast and comparably loud. Sometimes, she accidently kicked into some smaller piles of wood, throwing the rotten leaves into the air and slowing her down. Successfully avoiding to stumble, she jumped over several roots and fallen trees.

The run drained her energy even more, as she was already exhausted from the sleepless night and the long flight. Her breathing grew faster, as did her pace.

A loud roar cut like a knife through the noise of her steps and breathing into her ear.
They had discovered her. For an instant, she froze, for the roar was answered by many others behind her.
At least she wasn’t encircled.
So the hunter had changed into the prey. Normally, Morrigan loved such rather sarcastic comments. But at the moment, it was she who was the prey and the idea vanished as fast as it had appeared.
The foulness in the air slowly started to become unbearable. She inhaled it deeper into her lungs with every single gasp. Morrigan didn’t dare to risk a look back, but she was sure that the Darkspawn slowly caught up with her.
And she just grew slower and slower, her tiredness taking over her a bit more with every step.

Morrigan could sense a feeling she hadn’t experienced for a very long time –if at all.
Fear was running through her body like a hot knife through butter. But still, her survival instinct drove her forward through the woods. She gained some kind of tunnel-vision, simply looking forth and running.
Running until she was caught or had escaped into safety. Whatever the case, she’d fight to her last breath.

The trees in front of her grew less dense, instead, she found several tree stumps around her. After a few additional steps she could hear the rush of a nearby river in front of her.
And there were shouts.
Human shouts.
She probably had discovered lumbermen-camp by fortune. Changing her direction, so that she ran directly to the source of the shouts, the witch pumped her last energy into her legs and managed to make a final push which increased her speed again a little bit.

She could see a larger camp only a few meters ahead of her. Its numerous tents were surrounded by a low wooden palisade and several sharpened stakes that were rammed into the ground so that they would impale every attacker who was foolish enough to come at them.
Smoke trails of several campfires rose high into the red morning-sky, where the wind carried them off to some different place far away.
As she came closer, she recognized that the camp was by far larger and too heavily fortified to be a simple campsite of some lumbermen. No, this was something bigger.
Perhaps a gathering of refugees that hoped to outlive the Darkspawn by hiding within this forest.
Or bandits.
Or mercenaries.
Or…
No matter whom this camp belonged. There were at least a few humans in there. And they would surely allow her into their walls.

The Darkspawn-rabble behind her roared again, this time incredibly loud and terrifying. The sound of their steps faded away. They probably wanted to gather up with some others of their rabble before they attacked the camp.

Morrigan’s lungs ached and felt as if they were about to explode at any second, spreading her blood and flesh all over the place.

Some men dressed in common, linen-made cloths appeared on the palisade. Each of them carried either a large stone or a bow, ready to throw any kind of missile at the approaching enemy –or at her.
At least this wasn’t a mercenary-camp.

With a few, desperate steps, she reached the small gate of the camp.
As soon as she was within the palisades, the gate was closed and locked with some huge trunks and a cart placed right behind it. Even if the Darkspawn managed to break through the gate, they would still have to break through this barricade.

Morrigan stopped immediately after passing through the gate.
She exhaled exhaustedly and collapsed onto her knees, supporting herself by pressing both of her pale hands into the brown dirt beneath her. Each of her muscles ached, her lungs cried for air. With every breath she took in, her mind became a little bit clearer, as did her view. The blur in front of her eyes slowly disappeared and although the foul smell of the Darkspawn corrupted the air in a horrible way. Her lungs burned even more with it.
But it also burned the symptoms of exhaustion out of her mind. Her thoughts got out of the instinct-driven scheme they had taken up as she had run for her life back into a rational shape. Taking her hands out of the dirt as she sat up, Morrigan was approached by an old woman as the air was filled with roars and battlecries again.
“What is a young woman like you doing lonely out there in the woods? Aren’t you aware of the Darkspawn that are lurking around this camp?” said the woman in a strict voice.
The strict tone caught her by surprise. Morrigan had expected someone would ask her if she needed food or had some wounds that required treating. Not this.

I thought my mother was dead. And now I got this old coot.

She lifted her face up to the cloudless sky, her eyes searching for something she would never find up there.
“I’m not from here, old woman. What kind of camp is this?” Morrigan asked in a rather dry tone.
The old woman gazed at her as if she were from another planet.
“Where have you been the last few days? Haven’t you heard anything about the villages of Geldering and Hothering being burned to the very ground?” the old woman asked surprised. The questions hung in the air between them and as the witch gave no answer, the woman started to explain:
“This campsite here is the last refuge to the survivors of the villages in the area. The Darkspawn drove them out of their houses, burning them to the very ground and butchering every being that was left behind. May the Maker watch over their souls. And now we will follow them into the realm of death!”
Her voice had grown more hysterically with every word.
Morrigan examined her desperate looks critically, sharing none of her hysterical and desperate feelings about the losses she must have faced. The fear for her life had vanished from her, leaving only the exhausted, tired and somehow desperate Morrigan she had become after the denied ritual behind.
“You! You stupid little girl lead them to our camp! You are responsible for the death coming upon us now!” she suddenly cried.

Stupid little girl.

Suddenly, the old woman was gone. Now Flemeth stood there, looking down on her.
Laughing.
At her.
Her face a joyous grimace.
She laughed at the feelings she had developed for the Warden during their journey, laughed at her disappointment as she was denied the ritual.
Laughed, although she should be dead, being nothing but an old ghost haunting the fade. She utterly regretted her decision to leave, but –after all- it was her decision, the decision of an independent woman.
And no one was to interfere with this decision.

Grim flushed through Morrigan and she rose up out of the dirt and mud she had sat in before.

Stupid little girl.

No one called her this. Not even her mother. She knew exactly what she was doing, always. Although the influences of love might have troubled these clear, calculating thoughts, she had to admit.

“The Darkspawn would have found this camp anyways. Do you really think you can hide such a huge camp from them? You fool!” answered the witch, fighting to keep her temper under control.
“You brought death upon us! You dirty witch! If it weren’t for you, we would have outlived them. But now they will kill us!” hissed the woman.

Witch. Normally she used to laugh loudly at the person calling her this. But this was different.

To Morrigan, it was still her mother speaking to her.
The witch’s hand clenched to a fist, the nails of her fingers gouging through her skin into her flesh. She felt the warmth of blood on her dirty fingertips. Before she recognized it, her fist had risen and stroke right into the hysterical women’s –Flemeth’s- face.
Screaming in surprise, the old woman fell into the dirt, sending a small fountain of mud up in the air.

Morrigan simply smiled.
It was a pleasant smile and she enjoyed it.
Satisfied like this, she opened her leather-bag, smearing the dirt that was still on her hands all over it. She’d have to clean it after the upcoming battle. Searching for one of her Lyrium potions, she dug one of her hands into the bag between the grimoires. She was trapped within this camp surrounded by the Darkspawn. So helping these people would also ensure her own survival. As her survival-instinct returned to her this time, it was controlled by her self.

It was time to kill some Darkspawn once again.

Modifié par Hecthorn, 18 janvier 2010 - 03:32 .

[Hecthorn]

Chapter 3 – The false Templar

Morrigan drank the blue Lyrium potion, her dry throat being eager to swallow the long-expected liquid. It was cold and had the iron-like taste of frozen blood. The potion didn’t do much to rid her thirst, but as soon as the small phial had been empty, new power was flowing through her body. She felt refreshed, but yet her tiredness and burning muscles remained.
She sighed.
Luckily, a mage didn’t need that many muscles at all.

Ignoring the old woman in front of her that threw several curses at her while she rolled in the dirt and desperately tried to get up, the witch climbed up the low palisade by using a small ladder.
And she ran immediately into someone she hadn’t expected to be in the camp or even in the whole area.

As soon as she stood upon the wall, Morrigan was face to face with a full-armored Templar. For a moment, she froze because of surprise, staring at him in barely hidden disbelieve.
The Templar was looking at her just as surprised, but he was first to regain his ability to speak.
“So you’re the one who just ran through our gate? I didn’t expect any living being would make it through their lines, or even still be alive out there in these haunted woods.”
His tone was kind and as he spoke, his narrow lips tried to form some kind of a smile. He ended up with some rather ugly grimace that made Morrigan doubt he was as friendly as he pretended to.
The man was definitely lying, his kindness being nothing but a mask he couldn’t hold up properly.
Morrigan did not know what to think of it. Perhaps he just didn’t like any mages at all because, after all, he was a Templar. Or he knew her somehow as an apostate, perhaps even sensed her as an apostate.
Either way, she didn’t care for the moment. If he had only a spark of intelligence in his Lyrium-driven body, he would not lay hand on her. At least not for as long her magic might be useful in the upcoming battle against the Darkspawn.
“I didn’t expect to find a Templar here, either. Weren’t they supposed to follow the Grey Wardens into battle against the archdemon, now that the Circle of Magi is completely annihilated? Or should I say ‘cleaned from maleficars?’” the witch asked back, keeping her tone and her looks kind and convincing. After all, she was a young woman and could play out her advantages against any man. She didn’t want to waste any of her partially regained powers on him unless necessary.
When mentioning all this, a picture of her love appeared in front of her eyes, but she made it fade away by force within a blink.
The Templar’s mask now finally collapsed, his expression openly showing his disapproval of her.
They looked at each other and it seemed like there could be flashings of lightnings emerging between them at any moment.
As a minute or so passed, the Templar sighed and put on his heavy helmet, hiding his long, dark hair and his ugly hooknose beneath it.
Only the gaze of his deep-blue eyes remained, shining through the observation slit of his helmet.
His gaze remained on her for some more time, as did she the other way round. But then the roars of the Darkspawn rose up to a new climax and he turned away from her, staring out into the open where the enemy was waiting to attack them.

Something is wrong with him, he is no normal Templar. Or at least he’s not like I know Templars. He’ll probably put me to the torch as soon as this is over, not earlier. And he knows this. So every Templar is as stupid as Alistair.

Again, her love appeared in front of her eyes. This time she allowed the illusion to last a bit longer, but not much.

The Darkspawn force out there counted about 600 heads, each of them eager to smash its blade into the bodies of the besieged humans. The defenders counted 400 people, not even half of them able to fight in the battle. And even less experienced training in using a weapon. Their situation was desperate, but for some reason, Morrigan decided to stay and fight.

I won’t get far when those Darkspawn keep lurking through the forest, no matter what shape I take up. So before I leave these people to their fate, I should at least decimate the number of those creatures .And this weird Templar will surely not allow me to leave before he has killed me.

She drew her staff from her back as they started to rush towards the palisade. Suddenly, their screams grew silent, although they kept running forth. Morrigan heard their urgent steps as they sprinted through the grass and fallen leaves.
It was the only noise filling the air.

The men upon the palisade shivered from fear. The witch could read it in their faces. They were probably thinking of running away now and it seemed as if they only kept their position because for them, there was nowhere to run.
Morrigan could still turn into a raven, but she probably wouldn’t make it long enough to escape the attackers.
She could imagine some of the trapped humans were wondering if she had this ability and would eventually look at her in jealousy.

As the attackers finally reached the numerous sharpened stakes, the defenders released a small number of arrows and threw several stones and sharpened limbs at them. Most of them were caught by large shields and did nothing but slow down the enemy’s advance. A few missiles however managed to hurt or even kill their targets. But this number was at a demoralizing low level.
The combat would definitely be decided upon the low palisades.
It didn’t even require ladders to climb up on them, so the witch expected the enemy to come at her directly. And, ironically, the only thing which could protect her properly from any severe injuries inflicted by the Darkspawn warriors was the Templar’s sword.
It was a very long blade that had to be swung with both hands. It required a lot of space to handle it and, on the opposite, might create a huge space if handled correctly.
As she lacked any kind of armor, Morrigan decided to keep close to the Templar, although he would probably be her worst enemy as soon as the Darkspawn were defeated.
This didn’t matter to her now, she could worry about the Templar soon enough. For now, he could shield her from any warriors coming at her and so she stood only a few meters apart from him.

Morrigan lifted her staff into the air, casting Winter’s Grasp at the first Darkspawn attacker in her range. He froze to solid ice immediately.
The warrior behind him hit the frozen one with his mace, for he was blocking his path. He jumped over the splinters of his comrade and got spiked by an Arcane Bolt as soon as he had finished his jump.
Seeing the attackers weren’t at all impressed by those few rather simple spells, the witch gathered some more power and threw a huge Fireball right into the midst of the attacking crowd.

Its impact was an amazing sight.
At least in her opinion.
The flaming ball flew towards the assaulters, drawing a dark line of smoke into the air. As it hit the ground, it exploded immediately. Darkspawn were hurled from their feet, landing hard on the fallen leaves in screams of pain and surprise. Some of them were burned to ashes, their cries fading slowly away. Many others caught fire, as did the leaves around them.
Flames rose from those leaves, but they were extinguished by the sheer mass of enemies walking over them.
The smell of burned flesh filled the air, combining with the foul smell of the Darkspawn.
This combination made some of the defenders drop to their knees and vomit heavily all over the floor. Others turned their gaze to the ground in order to avoid the disgusting sight of the happenings in front of the wall. Smelling what was happening was enough to them.

The witch however was satisfied with her spell. Probably fifteen assaulters had been killed immediately, several others were burning to death by now. The ones that had just been hurled from their feet were desperately trying to get up on them again, whilst the rest of the small horde just ignored them and ran forth. They didn’t care for the fact of their brethren lying on the ground beneath their feet.

As impressive it might have looked, even the Fireball didn’t slow down the assault.
Having not much Mana left, Morrigan concentrated upon minor but no less efficient spells. She used them to kill a giant Hurlock Alpha. She hoped him to be the leader of the pack, but as he fell to the earth, bleeding heavily from several wounds caused by Arcane Bolts, she was proven wrong.
None of the Darkspawn even frowned.
It seemed as if his death was just increasing their rage.

Suddenly, a Stonefist emerged out of the everywhere of the attacking horde, smashing through the palisade with brute force. Wood and splinters sailed through the air and landed everywhere around the impact-site. Some also found a new home in the flesh of some defenders. The screams of these wounded haunted the battlefield, as they unsuccessfully tried to stop the bleeding.
What was left was a wide hole in the low, wooden wall. The humans stared at it with fear and helplessness.
The Templar and Morrigan however were staring at it in surprise.
None of them had expected the Darkspawn to ram a breach into the wall. They had actually suspected them to come over the wall by bunking up on each other.

Now the silence which had only been filled with the sounds of steps, flames and those dying from several reasons was utterly vanquished by the newly arising battlecries of the Darkspawn. The horrible roars and howls battered against the last spark of courage that was left within the defenders. Their faces paled even more.
And it threatened to annihilate it.

As the first attackers swept through the hole into the camp, the Templar drew his huge sword and turned to Morrigan. She hadn’t expected him to turn on her so early.

Their eyes met and he started to speak, his sword pointing at her.
“I will not let an apostate behind! You have done your part in this battle and now your appearance shall no longer insult Ferelden!”
So he still kept up the mask of being nothing but a righteous Templar.
Morrigan was about to freeze him using Winter’s Grasp, but as she spoke those few words required for the spell, two bolts emerged out of the dirty wall beneath her feet. Each of them enchained one of her hands, dragging her down to the floor. She was unable to speak, not even the slightest faint of a sound emerging as she opened her mouth to scream some heavy curse at him.
The Templar lowered his sword and, whilst the Darkspawn were cutting down the small group of defenders that was still brave enough to oppose them in the background, he raised his voice again.
Morrigan imagined him to smile at her in satisfaction and superiority.
This time however, his voice was strangely twisted and had a deep, threatening sound.
It surely wasn’t the Templar who spoke here.
“You are mine now, Witch of the Wilds.”

This is definitely no normal Templar.

Morrigan thought as her sight vanished and she was drawn into unconsciousness.

[bl00dsh0t]

Intersting fic with a very different premise than most, well written too Keep going, looking forward to more ^^

[OldMan91]

I really like this fic! I'm very interested in knowing what happens next.

[MarcusDeVarro]

finally, i was wondering what morrigan would do after the game

[Hecthorn]

Chapter 4 – Sweet Nightmare

The loud roar of a giant dragon filled the air.
He was roaring to the sky, exposing the throat of his tainted body to the warrior as he stretched his head up. He was about to strike, as the dragon lowered its head again and spat a violet fountain of fiery flames at him. Instinctively, the warrior jumped forth, out of the course of the fountain, slamming both of his long blades into the dragon’s side. The mighty creature cried in agony, as the attacker drew one of the blades out of its body again, only to slam it back home in another place, this time in one of the front-legs. Although the wounds were deep and red, thick blood poured slowly out of it, the dragon showed no sign of pain, save for the recent cry.
A tall warrior emerged behind the dragon, striking his heavy, two-handed blade down into the tail of his enemy. A flush of red blood emerged and the tall attacker hammered his sword down upon the dragon once more.
That was too much for it. It started to collapse and the first warrior jumped upon its head, slashing his blades directly into it as it fell. When it crashed upon the floor, the warrior jumped forth once more and landed amidst his companions.
For some reason, they started to discuss. They argued, cried, screamed. At least it looked like they did. It made no noise at all.
Or no noise caused by them could be heard by her.
The only noises that could be heard were those of the dying dragon.
Slowly, the dragon was lifting his head again, as one of the warriors stormed towards the beast, dragging a long, two-handed blade out of a corpse in his way. As he sprinted, he lifted the blade and cut through the creature’s throat, opening it from head to chest. A river of blood poured out of it, making the floor slippery and flowing down the warrior’s shiny plate armor, taking all of its glamour away from it within a single blink of an eye. The dragon’s head dropped down to the ground again. Splashing fountains emerged from the small lake of his own blood as his monstrous head finally hit the floor. The attacker just turned, driving the long blade into the head of the beast with a huge swing.
A pillar of light emerged out of the wound, moving up into the sky as if it was some kind of blade by itself.
It enlightened the sky and drowned the view in its bright, breathtaking appearance.
Then, from one moment to the other, it was over.
Nothing could be sensed, the slight connection she had felt to one of the warriors was suddenly diminished by a brute force.

=+~+=#}{#=+~+==+~+=#}{#=+~+==+~+=#}{#=+~+=

Suddenly, Morrigan woke up.
A horrible pain emerged within her head, as if someone had rammed a needle right through it.
The violent strike of this sudden pain crippled her for an instant and she had to find back to her senses slowly and carefully, for each thought ached horribly.
The remembrance of her recent, bloody dream was weak, nothing but a thin layer above her eyes. She remembered the shape of a tainted creature, a huge dragon and a proud warrior killing him. The witch knew neither of them. And -at least for the moment- didn’t care about the happenings of this vision. Morrigan would allow it to bother her as soon as she was out of the pain and could think clearly again.
Her view cleared and her yellow eyes browsed the area around her.
Small isles of rock were floating through the air, hanging in front of a greenish sky. Twisted figures stood upon each of it or sailed through the sky without any obvious target.
This realm was the most weird one any person could ever enter.
Or be imprisoned in.

The Fade.

These two words seemed to hang in between the many rocky isles, high up in the air. The letters danced in front of her eyes and disappeared only after she shook her head. Dizzily, she rose to her feet and checked her equipment. Her staff and the leather-bag were still in their places, but the bag was horribly easy to carry. Panic poured through Morrigan. Her hands grubbed around within the bag, searching for what she knew she wouldn’t find in there – Flemeth’s grimoires.

The Templar –or whatever pretends to be the Templar- must have taken them. As soon as I’m out of this forsaken place, I shall skin this dirty bastard and spill his blood to whatever place I can find!

Anger flushed through her veins and her hands clenched into fists. The witch bit her teeth together and the last faint of dizziness vanished from her. She was fully aware of her surroundings now, investigating every single shadow a demon might hide in.
She needed to fry someone or something in order to release the whole wrath within her.
Oghren had once told her about the famous Red Mist, the mental status in which the berserkers are going mad, beating at every living being, a status that makes it difficult to them to separate friend from foe.
Whatever it was that she experienced in this very moment, she knew she must not allow it to govern her next actions. Or she would only be caught by even more trouble. The witch allowed a loud scream to escape her throat and regretted it immediately. It was a mistake to drag attention on her with actions such as this. And although she had her full powers in the fade and was not as weakened as she had been back in the real world, Morrigan knew she was far from being invincible.

There was a straight path laid out in front of her, a slim passage ending with a portal far, far away from her current position.
The witch sighed and started to walk towards it.
The path was paved with an uncountable number of small stones in several dim colors and broke down into the nothing of the greenish sky on both sides.

After what seemed like hours, it appeared as if she hadn’t moved an inch forth. The shimmering portal motivated her to continue her march, but some inner voice told her that she would never reach it or even walk through it. After all, this was the fade. The twisted realm of some weird demon she didn’t know. And getting out of it wouldn’t be very easy, if not impossible.
But still, Morrigan continued her march over the endless road and as she was sure she had walked for about five hours and it still appeared to her that she hadn’t moved at all, she decided to sit down and think.

Don’t stop! Don’t rest! You can’t allow yourself to stay in this place for too long. You have to move on!

A familiar voice uttered these words. The speaker appeared to be everywhere around her but still, she could not see anyone around her. This voice belonged to her one and only love and its very sound cut her chest open and ripped her heart out of it with cruel violence. Though, she did not want to admit that to herself.
“Be gone, spirit!” she screamed.

I’m no spirit and you know this. You can sense it as much as you can sense me. Trust your feelings, you know it is me, or at least what’s left of my soul. The taint of the archdemon has corrupted me and so my being is slowly torn apart by it. Every day a bit more.
Until, one day, I will be one with the eternity of death and oblivion.

“You won’t fool me, useless demon!” she cried, tears rising in her eyes. Something inside her told her it was him, wished it was him.
Her heart was squeezed until all blood had disappeared out of it, as if it were a sponge. Morrigan sniveled.
Her brain told her not to listen, not to listen to avoid further pain, not to listen to avoid the demon’s influence.

Please, my love. Let me help you as long as I still can.

She couldn’t say why, but she decided to trust to the Warden, the spirit, the demon or whatever the voice’s source was. It was worth trying. If she continued alone, she would probably never get out of this part of the Fade. And with the voice as her, well, companion, she might perhaps find a way out of it.
Enjoying the voice of her beloved, whether it was faked or not, was what made her even more confident about this. And also what hurt her even more.
The witch sniveled again.
“So, spirit, what do you offer?”
Love or not, she didn’t want to expose her feelings too much, though. Morrigan tried to blink the tears away, but it didn’t hold for long.
The wounds the Warden had caused her were still too fresh. She couldn’t simply swallow the pain. She would have to face it. No matter how much it would hurt.

Morrigan rose to her feet again. “So, what do you suggest, spirit?” she asked as dryly as possible.

I beg you, don’t reject me. I’m your only chance to get out of this nightmare before it can swallow you. You must reach the portal, or the Fade will swallow you and you will never escape this place.

“Stop this apocalyptical tone. I’ll make my way out of this.” she pretended, ignoring the great blackness that had emerged behind her, at the place where she came from. Or thought to come from.

You must continue your march. Or it will suck your soul from your body, so that you shall never find peace in the Maker’s embrace after you’re dead.

“Now you sound like some fool from the chantry.” Morrigan said sarcastically, still pretending everything was alright. Although she knew her true feelings must have been clearly visible to anyone looking at her.
If anyone was looking at her after all.

She started to walk again and silence fell upon her. Neither she nor the voice spoke a word. And she desired nothing more but a word of this voice.
This disembodied voice, which hurt her very heart and soul and, at the same time, sounded so delicious to her. To her, it remained nothing but an illusion, but an illusion she slowly grew comfortable with –and therefore one of the most dangerous illusions of all.
Morrigan wanted the voice to speak with her, even if it were only about senseless topics. But she wanted to hear this sweet, deep voice. Its sound helped her remember what she didn’t want to forget, what she didn’t allow herself to forget but would fade away with the time, now that he was away and would probably never return.
The witch sniveled once more.

She definitely couldn’t deal with this kind of feelings.

[Lintanis]

wow big gap between updates you been ok?

[Hecthorn]

I had some RL issues during the last months.
Back home in Bavaria, one has to go to school until the 13th grade (starting at Primary School and then High School) in order to achieve his/her A-levels. I'm in year 12 by now and I actually had a wave of tests the last months and some other RL issues.

I apology for the long delay, I hope you liked it, though.

Modifié par Hecthorn, 10 avril 2010 - 03:29 .

[Lintanis]

Hope the exams went well . yeah loving the story morrigan definatly the best character for me

[Hecthorn]

Chapter 5 – Mommy?

The darkness behind her grew with every step.
Morrigan recognized this with shock, and even more shocking was the fact that it grew faster than she could walk.
The incredible blackness swallowed all of the sky and the colors around and within it. It almost looked as if another world was inside the darkness, a world separate from the fade and its numerous menaces.
The horrible pain he had felt within her head at the moment she awoke within the fade had also started to return to her. Once more, a needle appeared to burn its way through her head, searing flesh and bones. Yet, she kept up her conscience and resisted the urge to cry because of the ache.

She continued her march for several more hours, but without quickening her pace, although the huge darkness threatened to swallow her.
Finally, the witch decided upon turning towards the darkness, drew her staff and waited for what was to come within it. She gave up trying to reach the portal at the end of the straight path in front of her. Somehow, Morrigan had always known it would not come any closer, but in order to make a demon reveal itself, one had to play its game with the creature.
And, in the end, win it.
That was usually the way things went in a demon’s lair. It had always been like this and it probably would always be like this in the future.

The voice spoke up once more.

“Do not give up, you must go on.”

It sounded almost desperate, but, on the other hand, also pleased in a strange way.
The witch did not like its tone.
“No, I won’t! This darkness will swallow me either way, whether I make my stand here or not. Be gone spirit, I never desired to hear your voice and I never believed you are who you pretend to be!” she cried. Her voice was filled with self-confidence, the single words she said appeared to burst from it. But it had cost her a lot of courage to say these two sentences. Morrigan still hadn’t come over the shock and the horrible feelings caused by the disembodied voice of her beloved –or whatever spoke using his voice.
Whatever dared to speak using his voice.
At least she had managed to push these feelings out of her own tone and mimics.
Once again, it was a clash between her heart and her brain.
The hope of her heart that it really was her beloved who spoke to her, that it was her beloved who came after her in the middle of this darkness fought against her brain’s rationality, which told her that this could not be, that it was impossible and that it must therefore be a trick, played on her by some demon.
Probably that very demon had, using the Templar’s body, stolen the two grimoires from her and probably trapped her within the fade.
And left her body behind somewhere in the woods, so that the Darkspawn could feast on it.
She shivered slightly as an image of a Hurlock cutting his teeth into one of her arms emerged within her head.
Her eyes blinked shortly and the picture faded slowly away.

The darkness had grown thick around her.
She was barely able to see anything at all. After a few minutes, she decided to cast a small fire spell in order to inspect her immediate surroundings and to catch sight of the demon lurking within this darkness.
A couple of small flames emerged from her left hand, joyously playing with the skin of her fingers and yet not burning it. It appeared more like the small fire was caressing her hand, like a passionate lover would do.
Like her beloved had used to.
The fire created a small, empty island of light around her. She turned several times, her eyes cautiously browsing the borders of the lightened area. For the first few moments, her eyes couldn’t make out anything but darkness.

Suddenly, her eyes spotted a slight movement within the shadows.
“Show yourself, demon!” she cried and fired a small fountain of flames in the direction of the shadow. A huge area grew bright from the flames’ light and Morrigan was able to make out the twisted body of the demon that lurked within the darkness.
He looked like an elfish child, despite the fact he had 4 arms and no common legs. The creature stood upon eight spider-like legs that grew out of its back, whereas the place in which the normal elf had its legs was just bloody stumps.
It actually looked as if the legs had been removed just lately.
The demon’s eyes met Morrigan’s gaze and she frowned for an instant. The color that surrounded the pupil, which had the shape of a long, thin line reaching from one lid to the other, was a deep, darkish blue that was more beautiful than any kind of blue Morrigan had ever seen. Tears of a black liquid ran down the cheeks of a young, pale face. An innocent child’s face that had been disfigured by several scars and black blood vessels that shone through its skin.
It was probably aged somewhere between five and seven years.
It opened its young mouth and showed a long row of dirty, sharpened teeth in order to say something. And what it said was but a single word, which made the witch’s very bones shake and caused a shiver to run down her back.
“Mommy!”

The creature sniveled.
Morrigan, still somewhat frozen by this weird word being uttered from a demon’s lips -and of course by the fact that this word was directed at her- seemed to regain her conscience only slowly.
“I am not your mother, abomination. Release me from your realm into the world of Mortals and you shall live to search for your mother!” the witch answered. Normally, she would have simple blown the demon away with something, but if there really was a mother somewhere around in this part of the fade, then there might be a very powerful demon very close. And perhaps even another one –a father.

The nice, perfect demonic family. Now with me for breakfast.

The idea rushed through her mind and caused her lips to form a slight grin.

“Mommy?” asked the creature once more and sniveled. More of the black tears were flowing down its pale cheeks, painting a painful picture of desperation upon her face.

Beware, Morrigan. Do not allow yourself to kill this spirit by now. You might provoke its parents to show up. And they probably won’t like it to see it dead. On the other hand, who knows if there are really parents and if this was just a trick? Eventually, the origin of the voice, that has been so dreadfully silent the last few moments, is one of its parents.

Morrigan’s thoughts grew louder and faster with every passing second.
“I am not your mother, girl.” She said once more –this time a little more politely, for the voice might still be around.

“Mommy, the evil shemlen is still around. I’m afraid of him. He has done things to me. Horrible things. I can’t feel my legs any longer. My eyes hurt. The light here is so incredibly bright. Please, Mommy, make it disappear. I’m afraid of it and it burns in my eyes. Can you tell me what these weird things are that started to grow out of my back a few days ago, since the day I can’t feel my legs anymore? Oh, please Mommy! Please, take me home. This isn’t as funny as the shemlen promised it would be. The shemlen is a liar. I should have known it, Mommy. You and the keeper told me many times that shemlens are not to be trusted. Mommy, I have learned my lesson.” the girl said and then, she added real crying to the tears that ran down her cheeks already for some minutes. She collapsed on the floor, had probably wanted to land on her knees. But, as they were no longer there, she fell on her stumps and screamed in horrible pain, as their open wounds touched the ground.

The witch could not help herself and felt pity for the demon, spirit, girl or whatever it was.
It was a paradox.
She felt pity for a twisted creature at whose sight other people that were not as much suited to abominations as she had gotten during her journey with the Warden would probably feel nothing but a horrible urge to vomit today’s supper all over the floor.
Eventually, Morrigan would lower her staff, only to take it back up to its former height.
She must not allow herself to forget her own awareness because of pity.

“This is my last warning, release me or I’ll kill you in order to get free.” Morrigan shouted over to the monster.
Its eyes were still fixed on hers. Now they showed not only desperation and sadness, but also fear.

“But Mommy! Please, don’t be angry with me. I’m sorry I didn’t obey to you as you told me the shemlen was evil. The things he had given me to eat and drink have tasted great. They made me want more and so I ran after him, as you had chased him away. Don’t be angry with me. Just… Just… Please, just make everything like it was before. I want to feel my legs again. I want the pain in my back to disappear. I want to be able to see light once more without the burning in my eyes. I want to see my friends again. I want to be with you and daddy again. Can’t you do this to me?” the girl stuttered as she still lay on the floor and wept.

“Like you, Witch of the Wilds, this poor girl just wants to be free. Can you give this mercy to her? Can you heat up your frozen heart for her and are for others than just yourself?”

There was it again.
The voice that was silent for such a long time.
This time, however, it was uttered by the lips of the body of a tall man. His stature looked like the one of Templar she had met in the human camp, which was probably caused by the fact that this “Templar” wore a Templar’s armor, too. His head, however, was clearly the one of a demon. It might once have had humanoid features, but by now, these were horrible twisted and whirled around, creating bumps, slots and wrinkles where there should be none.

“Mommy, please, safe me from him! This is the true face of the evil shemlen!” the twisted girl exclaimed.

The Templar-demon just ignored the little one.
“Get ready to fight, Witch of the Wilds. We have your grimoires and therefore we don’t need you any longer. Prepare to die!” he screamed at Morrigan.

“Mommy!” the creature shouted.
“Don’t worry, I’m here, precious, I’ll save you.” Said a female voice behind Morrigan and the demon showed a priceless expression of confusion and surprise.
Morrigan kept cool and started to weave a spell, not knowing what had emerged behind her back.