Yes, I am aware that the prologue is a tad short. But hey! It's a prologue.
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Prologue
Prologue
Dwarven scouts Gilrem and Doron both grumbled as they marched through the snows of the Frostback Mountains.
"Sod it all," huffed a shivering Gilrem from an unusually white beard. "We're no damn surfacers. I hate leaving Orzammar. Why are we the scouts?"
"Somebody's gotta do it." Doron replied, ankles deep in the white substance. "With the help of that new Golem, Shale, I will admit that the Darkspawn have been losing quite a few battles in the Deep Roads. But now that Harrowmount has decided to try to reclaim them, the bastards have been everywhere in the mountains, crawling out from their holes." He grunted. "Wouldn't want them to get too close to Orzammar's gates."
"I still say 'sod it'," Gilrem retorted, stopping in his tracks. "Can we atleast take a break?" he pleaded. "My feet are killing me."
"Make it quick. We only have a little further to go until we can return."
Gilrem nodded thankfully, and bent over, catching his breath. Dwarves were not built for long marches; Gilrem would much rather be battling to the death in The Proving than hiking endlessly through the Frastback Mountain's weathered snows. He inhaled, straightened up, and nodded. "I think I'm goo-" The Dwarf's words hung in the air. Faster than Doron could keep up with, his Dwarven comrade had toppled over, dead, in red-filled snow with an arrow in his back.
Doron quickly, frantically, looked around, trying to spot his attackers. His vision was restricted, due to the mass amount of snow and fog. Sod it! he thought as an arrow with every intent to end him flew by his head. Without hesitation, the Dwarf turn to run, leaving his fallen comrade behind.
Modifié par The Gay Warden, 20 janvier 2010 - 11:49 .
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