Prologue
“…And so, the Archedemon was destroyed by the Grey Warden, high above Denerim. A great light shone in the sky-the light of darkness breaking. The foul Darkspawn turned and ran, defeated. The Fifth Blight was finally over, though little of Ferelden was unblighted. But, the Warden did not survive. The Warden, of the Cousland line and a fierce warrior, became the conduit of the Archdemon’s destruction, and was in turn destroyed as well. Ferelden, nay, the whole of Thedas mourns his loss. His sacrifice will not be forgotten. Wherever he his, hopefully he sits beside the Maker, in a better place…”
-Excerpt from a story of the Battle of Denerim.
Chapter 1
It was a chilly night in the Anderfels, as a cold wind ran through the mighty Weisshaupt Fortress, headquarters of the Grey Wardens, the brotherhood that has protected Thedas from the Darkspawn for centuries.
Allon wrapped his cloak around himself tighter. He cursed his colleague for his ever present lateness. He stood in the shadows, looking upon the mighty fortress, wondering if it would really be possible to infiltrate it.
Just as he gave thought to leaving, his partner appeared out of the darkness, almost coming from the shadows themselves.
“Good evening Allon,” came the figure’s chilly voice, almost as cold as the air surrounding the two.
“Uh, yeah. Great night to do this by the way,” Allon responded, “Curse this weather, Maker it’s cold up here!”
“Enough sniveling, Allon,” the figure snapped. “You are aware of our task then?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am. You really think we can get in there?”
“The Wardens are formidable opponents, most undoubtedly. But, their defenses are weak in just the right spots.”
Allon was slightly unnerved by his companion’s cold confidence in the Warden’s lack of security. After all, they slay Darkspawn for a living, Allon thought. But if Allon knew anything, it was that he stood next to Thedas’ greatest infiltrator.
“If you’re done doubting this, then we should get this started,” Allon’s ally said.
Allon was shocked that he seemingly read his mind. His companion started moving forward.
“Keep up if you can,” Allon heard, though the figure had seemingly disappeared.
“Yeah, keep up with a shadow. Just how I planned to spend the evening,” Allon bitterly muttered, as he refashioned his cloak around him.
Arlen stood at his guard post, in the courtyard in Weisshaupt, overlooked by the grand tombs of the Wardens that made the Ultimate Sacrifice. He was annoyed he was assigned guard duty on such a cold night.
He looked upon the most recent tomb, dedicated to Garrett Cousland, whom had sacrificed himself just over two months ago. He wished he could be so respected, so revered and celebrated throughout Thedas. He bitterly looked away when he realized that it could never happen, that he would never be so successful a Grey Warden.
The statue of Cousland seemingly looked down on Arlen, making him even more wistful. The statue portrayed a strong man, handsome and rugged. Arlen lit up a cigarette, though he wasn’t supposed to. It was a vice that carried over from his past life as a guard in the city of Hossberg, the Anders Capitol.
As he breathed the cigarette, he felt an abrupt sharp pain in his chest. He looked down to discover the end of a blade protruding from his ribcage. The cigarette fell out of his mouth, as the life drained from him. He dropped to his knees once the blade was retracted. He never saw his killer. He would never achieve the grandeur he desired.
Allon watched as his companion wipe his short sword clean of blood.
“Was that really necessary?” Allon asked, once again readjusting his cloak.
“Yes,” his companion replied bluntly, “Let’s go.”
The two allies proceeded to approach Cousland’s tomb. Allon was in awe, this was it. His ally, meanwhile, proceeded to the door of the tomb, sealed by the Chantry over 5 weeks ago.
He broke the seal easily and the door slid open. He entered and disappeared into the darkness. Allon cautiously entered as well, activating a glow stick to see. The two proceeded down a short flight of stairs, deeper into the earth. At last, they came upon the coffin, a magnificent box of ebony and gold, with embedded images of the great battle of Denerim.
“Almost make you feel guilty, don’t it?” Allon asked.
“No,” his companion bluntly replied yet again. “Let’s do this then.”
He traced a rune over the coffin, breaking its seal. They removed the lid...
To be continued..
Modifié par ztonkin, 08 mars 2010 - 04:33 .
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