I am Garrik Aeducan, Kinslayer stricken from record, Grey Warden, Living Paragon and Hero of Ferelden. This history I pass to the Shaperate, witnessed by Scholar Gertek, is to be my last act before joining the Legion of the Dead in the Deep Roads. My time has come and duty calls me to make my last journey. In Death, Sacrifice.
As the second son of Aeducan I knew to always be on my guard, dwarven politics demand careful attention. For that I had Gorim a faithful second who’s one failure earned me the title Kinslayer.But, I get ahead of myself. My last day as an Aeducan was also one of my greatest at the time. I entered the proving defeating all and still passing the reward to the one who deserved it, and then the ladies… they will come back into the story, I assure you. I met a group of Grey Wardens and the leader of the group, Duncan. They fight the darkspawn threat giving up title and past to protect all lands. I decided that I would go and fight with them when I could convince my father that it was best. Later that same day Behlen even warned me that my eldest brother Trian had plans to kill me to ensure his seat upon the throne. I refused to believe it, it was too soon, father too healthy, to start at that game. This was my first lesson: In peace: Vigilance.
The next day I took my first command into the deep roads to retrieve the shield of Aeducan; it was a glorious success, except for the death of my brother Trian. There were signs of betrayal along the way; the Aeducan taig was open, which required our family signet ring. But, I still refused to acknowledge them until I came upon Trian’s lifeless body; at a crossroads we were all to gather at before returning to Orzimarr. Murdered by blade and arrow, but no markings of darkspawn defilement I couldn’t ignore the signs anymore.
The truth burned into mind, I had been outplayed and outmaneuvered. Not by Trian, but by Behlen and with timing you couldn’t plan, suddenly he appeared. With his cohort as well as Father’s I could hear him hurrying everyone along “before it was too late”. Yes it was too late, but how was he going to play this when I had my own cohort of witnesses.
The scene rocked my father, all I could say was “it’s not as it appears." Gorim spoke out that he was dead when we arrived, but quickly he was dismissed as “too loyal” to be considered a valid witness. I was about to call out Behlen and his treachery when my scout came forth and told a story.
“We saw Trian and his group standing here and Lord Garrik approached them all friendly like. Suddenly when he was in striking range he ordered us to attack Trian and his men. Garrik was so fast with sword and shield, Gorim slaying that man from behind. They didn’t stand a chance.”
With fury and vengeance I killed that scout before he could offer another lie. Turning to the rest of my cohort I realized they were all murmuring that what the scout said was true. Even Frandon Ivo, of noble caste, the man I bested in the proving and still gave proving trophy to, agreed that the scout had spoken true. Outmaneuvered and outplayed I kept silent, furious that Gorim might be put to death for my own stupidity and refusal to play the game. Me, eh, we all die and I deserve it all the more for not seeing the game before me.
Thrown into the dungeon I awaited my summons and sentencing. I lost track of time down there, really I stopped caring. It took a moment for me to even realize that Gorim was standing outside of my cell looking in with sadness plainly evident in his eyes. He told me that his name was stricken from the family records and he was to be banished to the surface, never to return. But me, I was exiled into the deep roads, existence stricken from the shaperate records. I no longer existed in history and time my father to be recorded as only having two sons and not three, the second being Behlen instead of me. Being banished to the deep roads even the stone is to forsake you, unless you find forgiveness in battle against the darkspawn before being overwhelmed and killed. “At least it’s a warrior’s death” I told Gorim. With a tear in his eye he told me of his begging to be allowed to follow; there never was a finer man I considered as a second. He told me of hope though; the wardens were still in the deep roads. If I could find them they would take me into their order. It meant a life of fighting darkspawn, and death at their hands. No different than the life of a dwarven warrior.
I stood silently as they exiled me with only sword and shield, once the great gates closed I dropped the shield. I was no longer an Aeducan, no longer a shield of Orzrimarr, and still to this day I refuse to wield a shield. Sword and dagger or even sword in each hand if there is room to swing them. I don’t know how long I spent in the dark roads, slaying the beasts that wander the corridors. Breaking the traps and ambushes of the darkspawn, but I did come upon Duncan’s group of wardens. With honor you wouldn’t expect from a topsider he offered me a place with the wardens, no questions, no concern for why I was no longer Aeducan.
Modifié par K9miles, 12 février 2010 - 10:40 .
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