Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

In good times and in bad	By : kruemel Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 14749 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Dragon Age and the characters of the game do not belong to me. This is a no profit fanfiction

Chapter List
- 58
- 59
- 60
„Didn't you say, ya Grey Wardens sense the darkspawn?“ Oghren grunts as we run down the broad but natural passage as fast as we can. „So, where are they?“
„They are... everywhere!“ Rori pants. „Now shut up and run!“
This is the Dead Trenches, an abandoned, darkspawn infested place. Whatever madness brought Branka here, we cannot be any saner considering we followed her. The only excuse I can find: We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.
The air we breathe is heavy with dust and decay, the stench is almost unbearable. First I thought I'd get used to it after a while but it still bites in my lungs whenever I inhale the foul stench of the thick corruption surrounding us.
When we descended farther into the Deep Roads, the tingling at the back of my mind became stronger and appeared more often as we encountered more and more darkspawn. And then we reached the point of no return when there suddenly was so mucb darkspawn behind us, in front of us, right and left and above and beneath – everywhere.
The tingling became worse than during the battle at Ostagar, the darkspawn's presence now infests my mind, it soaks into my thoughts. Sleeping becomes almost impossible and when I collapse with exhaustion the nightmares are worse than ever before. For Rori it isn't any better. Not that any of us is feeling quite well at the moment.
Where all this darkspawn suddenly comes from, I don't know. They are in every tunnel, every passage. It's as if they follow a call, streaming towards a destination only they know about. They do not really hunt us, but when they see us, they get distracted from their task and we find ourselves in the middle of another fight. Most of the time we try to outrun them, though, as we have found out they lose interest in us after a while and move on to do whatever it is they have been doing before we stumbled upon them. That is the very only reason why we are still alive. If they really wanted to hunt us down, they'd succeed. There are just too many of them.
Just at that very moment we have another group of darkspawn on our heels, and darkspawn down the left and the right corridor, and darkspawn ahead...
Blast!
When they have almost reached us, they suddenly turn down another corridor although we are right there in front of them. They cannot have missed we are there but still they just walk away.
„What in the name of the Maker...?“
We have no time to wonder, we keep running, hoping beyond hope to get as far away as possible from all the other darkspawn closing in around us.
The tunnel opens so abruptly onto a platform that Rori and I almost tumble over the ridge. I grab her arm to pull her back when she only comes to a halt at the very edge of a deep trench, an underground canyon crammed with darkspawn. It's a slithering mass of bodies, genlocks, hurlocks, shrieks, ogres, all pressed into that narrow passage – that isn't that narrow at all. I mean, it's huge, real broad and... Maker! It has to be thousands of them!
The tingling in the back of my head isn't just a tingling anymore – it is a piercing, stabbing and altogether unpleasant noise that screams at me to get the fuck out of here quickly. The disonant humming of the darkspawn itself is almost drowned by the cacophony inside my head. Never before have I seen that much darkspawn in one place. Never before have I felt so many of them. It's overwhelming, mindnumbing – the evil, bad, horrifying type of mindnumbing experiences.
From tunnels at the side of the canyon, from passages and holes, more and more darkspawn joins their kin – and then, with a thundering roar, the archdemon soars through the air. It's right there in front of our very noses, huge and terrifying, its corrupted flesh glistening sickly wet in the dim glow of the lava.
It is a dragon – and yet so unlike the ones we've seen before. Those were somewhat beautiful in a very dangerous and terrifying way. This... thing... monstrosity... it's viperish and mean and... it's evil. Real, real evil. It reeks of evilness. It's the very epitome of evilness, the incarnation of my worst nightmare... Merciful Andraste! I don't think my mind would have been capable of making something like that up on its own.
The corrupted dragon lands on a natural bridge high above the horde below. It roars and the horde answers with an earsplitting, inhuman cry from several thousand throats. It only has to turn its ugly head and it would be staring right at us standing there, small and insignificant. At that moment I feel like a tiny, tiny midge - and I guess that's just what I am to that beast. An inconvenience not to be bothered with.
No wonder the darkspawn didn't care we were there. We aren't a danger to them, we aren't worth the effort of being slain – not when there are more important things to do. Like a meeting with the big boss, the destruction of Ferelden, the end of the world... well, business as usual when you are darkspawn.
„Voilà!“ Rori says triumphantly, her voice shaking as she grins maniacly at Sten once the archdemon has risen again and, flying low above the horde, leads its minions... well, whereever they go. Probably to the surface. Maker have mercy! „My strategy worked! We went north until it became south again and are right at the rear of the archdemon...“
„I was wrong,“ Sten admits as calm and unperturbed as usual. Everybody else – well, not Shale – but all the rest of us – and not Oghren – but really, everybody besides Shale, Oghren and Sten... we all look like we have or are about to wet our pants. Leliana is whispering prayers. Good, we need any divine assistance we can get. I'm not particularily picky right now.
„We should find that dwarven smith,“ Sten adds after a moment as Rori hasn't yet moved but gasps „Fuck!“ repeatedly under her breath.
„Yes, no more time to waste,“ Rori agrees. She takes my hand for support as we move on. „My knees are so wobbly,“ she breathes, her face ashen.
„And you think mine aren't?“ I whisper. Her hand in mine is shaking as badly as my own. „They feel like pudding, wobbly, slimy pudding.“
„Vanilla or chocolate?“
„Left knee vanilla, right one chocolate. The consistence doesn't vary. Well, perhaps the right one is a little wobblier than the left. Apparently my left knee is the more courageous one.“
„What the fuck are you talking about, you silly nutcases?“ Morrigan hisses from behind. „Keep moving. I want to get the fuck out of here!“
We force our pudding legs to walk us even deeper into the Deep Roads. It sounds more and more like the dumbest idea we ever had. Sure, Branka went down here with her whole House in tow – still... Could they really have survived in this corrupted and darkspawn infested area for so long? What do they eat? Where do they find fresh water? Do I even want to know?
No time for brooding though as we run straight into more darkspawn – and dwarves. Unfortunately it's not Branka. That would have been too easy, right?
„The Legion gives no quarter. Send 'em to the Stone!“ the commander of the group shouts as about fifty men and women roar in unison and throw themselves at the hideous creatures.
„Can't we for once just stand back and watch?“ Zevran groans when Shale – the only one not tired, sore, injured or just utterly depressed - lunges itself into battle.„I have so much ichor in my hair, it's completely ruined! I doubt there's enough conditioner in Thedas to repair it.“
„We must have killed thousands of them already!“ Leliana exclaims, firing an arrow at the approaching creatures. „Where in the name of the Maker do they all come from?“
„Honestly? We don't know. Perhaps they grow like the corruption,“ I wonder, absentmindedly pushing a short genlock down with my shield. „Like little darkspawn mushrooms. Huge fields of them. And when they are all grown up, the other darkspawn come and harvest them.“
„Atrast vala, Grey Warden. I've never seen one of your kind in the Deep Roads,“ the commander of the dwarves, a competent fellow called Kardol, greets us once all darkspawn are dead. Well, at least those that happened to be right here.
„And now there's even two of us!“ Rori cheers, causing the dwarf to chuckle. „You don't seem surprised, though to see us here.“
„You're the leader of this... group, gal?“ Kardol eyes us and our companions in all our weird glory. „Bit young, aren't you?“ It's the typical Rori-effect. People feel the urge to behave all parental around her. Rori often pouts when this happens – which makes her look even younger. That doesn't mean she cannot mercilessly use this to her advantage. I've seen her do so more often than once. „The coming Blight is obvious to us, you know,“ the dwarf goes on while we cross the now darkspawn-freed bridge to a huge fortress that Oghren identifies as Bownammar.
„Less darkspawn down here?“ I observe. It's still more than enough left, though. There has to be a nest somewhere. „Everybody packing and getting ready for an adventure vacation on the surface? The all inclusive package with a grand tour of Ferelden, slaying helpless farmers, burning down villages, you know, all the fun stuff.“
„You got it, lad. The surprise is not that you have come but that you have come in that small a number. Where's the rest of your order? The two of you, you cannot have been Wardens for long? Do your moms know what you are doing?“
Hey! I'm a man not a boy! A full grown, broadshouldered, manly man with a fuzzy manly beard... Maker! I so wish I could shave that thing off!... and I have a totally manly and long glow-in-the-dark sword... and I have an intimate relationship with a woman... err... of course it's with a woman... what else should it be with... anyway, I am not a child! Just so you know.
„Well... Ferelden has kind of run out of Grey Wardens...,“ Rori mutters as she combs her fingers through her filthy hair. Zevran isn't the only one with a serious hair problem. Worst of all is Oghren's beard – he still claims beards are the most important accessory of a warrior. Did I mention, I so can't wait to get rid of mine? It feels as if I have some kind of fluffy – very sticky, very dirty, very smelly, very dead - animal glued to my face. „We're the only ones left. Everybody else is dead.“
„Sucks to be you, kiddos.“
„No kidding.“ Rori mutters. „We need to find Paragon Branka. You know anything useful about her?“
„Who put this dull idea into your head, gal? Oh, wait! The honourable lords and ladies, right? Can't decide who should be the new ass on the throne. Tell you something, gal. You're wasting your time. Paragon Branka is dead. Past our line the darkspawn kill everything. You want to go digging blind, you go right ahead, gal.“
„So I take it there's no use asking you for your assistance?“ Rori sighs.
„I'd gladly lead an assault through the Dead Trenches,“ Kardol drones. „But without an ass on the throne we have no orders.“
„Just awesome, isn't it?“ Rori groans, rubbing her face tiredly. She chews her bottom lip while she tries to decide what to do next. We've come so far but it wasn't a stroll in the park. Nothing we couldn't have handled, although Ortan Thaig was tough and I do not know if we had managed without Morrigan accidentally setting the whole place on fire.
Everybody is looking at Rori. They don't say it out loud but their expectant „What now?“ is weighing her down even without being voiced. I really don't want to walk in her shoes right now.
Standing close to the edge of the trench, Rori kicks small stones over the rim. „We've already come so far. If we turn back now, we have gained nothing at all but a few more nightmares,“ she groans when I come to stand beside her – and immediately step back.
Whoa! Maker! That trench is deep! Quickly I pull Rori away from the edge, the momentum driving her into my arms as she turns at the same moment. She rests her head against my shoulder, closing her eyes when I embrace her.
„If we move on we could all die,“ she whispers, her breath hot against my skin. „Or at least some of us – and in the end we could find out Branka really died or we could find nothing at all. Oh, Alistair, what should I do?“
She's asking me? Out of all her companions she chooses Ser Indecisive to give her advice? Duh, I already feel overextended when I have to decide what to eat for lunch. Good thing I didn't have much of a choice there lately. And still she looks at me so expectantly with those large dark blue eyes, two shimmering orbs in her dirt-stained face.
„We've been digging blind ever since Ostagar,“ I mutter in a choked voice. „Everywhere we went, there was trouble awaiting us. We could have died in Redcliffe when you decided to defend the village. We could have died in Kinloch Hold when we entered a tower sealed by the templars because they had lost control over rampant bloodmages and abominations. We could have died on our return to Ostagar or when killing Flemeth. Not to mention that demon infested ruin of a fortress, Warden's Peak. Do I have to go on?“
„No. I get it. Worrying about us dying gets me nowhere. I've risked our lives over and over again because I believed the things we did to be important. This somehow feels different. I've never been so hopeless and depressed and... oh, I don't know.“ She wraps her arms around my neck, pressing closer to me – as close as it's possible with my armour. I have worn it for days without taking it off. I even sleep in it. My muscles are sore and stiff. I feel battered and bruised and while I still looked forward to returning to the surface a few days ago, it now seems so far away, like a long forgotten dream.
Rori and I, we are Grey Wardens. We have a reason to be here. We submitted ourselves to the taint for a higher cause. The others, they followed us because they believe in this cause. But they aren't obliged like Rori and I are. Guess, we're the last who should complain about being here.
„We've been down here in the darkness for weeks now,“ I point out, nuzzling the top of her head. I instantly regret it. We all do need a bath desperatedly. Or two baths. Three perhaps. And lots of soap. „Even the Circle of Magi with all it's abominations was cozy compared to this.“
Rori pulls away from me, kicking another stone forcefully into the abyss. „Oh, bloody blast it! Let's give it a try!“
„You're either completely full of sod, gal, or the bravest soul I've ever met,“ Kardol mutters, shaking his head. „Only time will tell. Atrast tunsha, Grey Wardens. May the Ancestors be with you.“
Some darkspawn later – but not half as much as we expected – we enter Bownammar through some kind of backdoor. The archdemon must have driven most of them out of their holes.
„First day, they come and catch everyone.“
I jump at the sound of the voice, slowing down and turning round to see where it comes from. It sounds so hopless and broken, it chills me to the bone. Rori grabs my hand, squeezing it so tightly that I can even feel it through the gauntlet. „Kitten? What is wrong?“
Rori just shakes her head and whimpers lowly. She looks lost. Haunted. There's something in her eyes, something I've seen there before.
„Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.“
It's more than just fear. There's a terrified knowing expression in her huge round eyes. They are almost black with only a narrow rim of blue.
„Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.“
„Oh Maker!“ Rori sinks down to her knees, bending over.
„There's corruption and ichor everywhere! You don't really want to sit there?“ Morrigan shudders.
„Aren't you feeling well, my dear?“ Wynne asks worriedly while I hurry to pull Rori back to her feet. For a moment it seems as if she was going to fend me off. She's close to panicking. Her legs don't support her and she's hanging in my arms like a ragdoll.
„What is wrong with her? Is it a dizzy spell? She should drink more water. I told her she needs to drink more.“ Leliana rummages in her backpack for her waterskin and disturbes Schmooples in his sleep. He's the only one that had a quite jolly journey all the way down here.
„Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.“
„Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn,“ Rori whispers before the voice can recite another line. Tears well up in her eyes.
„Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn.“
The voice is like an echo of Rori's words. I stare at her in shock and disbelief „What? How do you...?“ I gasp.
„Merciful Andraste!“ Wynne exclaims.
„Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams,“ Rori breathes, prompting the next sentence.
„Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.“
„Rori?“
Tears are streaming down her cheeks as she begins to shake. A guttural noise escapes her throat, it's raw anguish.
„Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.“
„What is this? How do you know of it?“ I ask, shaking her when she doesn't react. Her eyes are staring right through me when I make her look at me. I've seen her like this before, the fear, the agony... Oh Maker's Breath!
„Eighth day, we hated as she is violated.“
„The dream,“ Rori sobs, snapping out of her shocked stupor. „I heard it in the dream. The one with the dwarven girl.... what they did to her...“
„What is she talking about?“ Morrigan hisses.
„The nightmare...“ I do recall that dream. How Rori cried, those earsplitting, agonized screams, how she was trapt in the nightmare even after waking. Now I hold her in my arms again when the mere memory of the nightmare has her crumble once more.
„Nightmare? What nightmare? She has nightmares every time she goes to sleep. No wonder, as she shares her tent with you.“ I am too busy comforting Rori to care about the witch's bashing. „You don't make any more sense than she does!“ Morrigan rolls her eyes. „Why do I talk to you at all! I better ask the dog!“
„Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.“
„There were voices...“ Rori cries as I gently stroke her hair. „Voices in the background... they kept repeating this... over and over and over again...“
„Now she does feast, as she's become the beast.“
„... as the darkspawn... as they... they made her...“
„Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams.“
„Made her what? What is the gal stammering about?“ Oghren grunts, growing impatient with Rori.
He hardly ever seems scared of anything at all – my guess: it's the alcohol. If I was as drunk as he is all the time, I'd probably still laugh the archdemon in its face... snout... whatever... while it gnaws on me. On a second thought, if I was as drunk as Oghren I'd have an alcohol poisoning and wouldn't do any laughing at all anymore.
„All I know, if this is a dwarf talking, then she's probably one of Branka's. We have to find her,“ Oghren grumbles, taking a sip from his flask. A rather big sip. How comes he never runs out of that stuff he keeps pouring down his throat?
Anyway, I guess we can agree on that. Although I doubt we will like what we find. I remember that dream. Unlike Rori I woke from that nightmare too early to be prepared for whatever lies ahead. One look at Rori and it's quite obvious she isn't prepared either. She struggles to regain her composure, angrily wiping her tears away.
„If there's still some alive, perhaps we can save them,“ she mutters without much hope. „We at least have to try.“
So we follow the voice, repeating the creepy scary poem over and over again, until we find the source in a vast chamber, sickenly overgrown with corruption, maimed corpses piled up at the walls and in the middle of the room. It reeks of decay and rotten flesh, the sickenly sweet smell makes us gag. I truly envy Shale this moment.
There's a creature crouching next to a heap of... Maker! I don't even want to take a closer look. The creature itself, it has the voice of a woman. Probably that's what it was before the transformation began. Its... her skin is blotched, dark and tainted like something long dead. Her head in some places is bald in between strands of long brown hair. When she turns, the stare of her hazy, feverish eyes bores into us.
„What is this? A human? Bland and unlikely. Feeding time brings only kin and clan. I am cruel to myself. You are a dream of strangers' faces and open doors.“
„Hespith?“ Oghren exclaims. „You've seen better days. What a sodding mess. Hey, Warden gal, ask her where Branka is.“
This is someone he knows and he can just stand there and... do nothing? He's either really hard boiled or that booze does effectively numb him. If this was someone I knew... even if I didn't like them... like, if this were Morrigan... and I really cannot stand her... even with that witch I'd show more sympathy than Oghren does right now.
„Oh Maker! What have they done to her?“ Leliana gasps, staying back like the rest of our companions not immune to the taint while Rori and I carefully draw closer.
„Is this the darkspawn corruption? It looks different, doesn't it?“ Rori wonders, her voice choked. She doesn't bother to bite back the tears or disguise her sorrow, the sympathy she feels for this poor lost soul. I feel so numb inside, there seems no room for this horror to unfold. I feel the stinging of unshed tears but I am... too shocked to cry.
„Corruption?“ the dwarven woman answers. „Not us. Not me. Not Laryn. We are not cut. We are fed. Friends and flesh and blood and bile... and... and“
Fed friends? Feeding time brings kin and clan? What in the name of the Maker is she talking about? Is it what I think... no, that's impossible... that's... I must be mistaken. She's talking in riddles, her mind is damaged... But one look at Rori's expression and I know... I know...
Oh merciful Andraste!
„All I could do was wish that Laryn went first. I wished it upon her so I would be spared. But I had to watch. I had to see the change. How can you endure that? How could Branka endure?“
„What... what are they doing? That... the feeding... I... I saw it in my dreams... the darkspawn... they made that girl feed on her own kin... what do they do that for?“ Rori breathes, coming so close to the dwarf, she's almost touching her. I pull her away, trying not to disturb Hespith. As far as I know from what Duncan told me, she's a ghoul... or almost a ghoul. And ghouls, they feed on human flesh – or on the flesh of their own kind. Anyway, a ghoul is nothing you want to give a sympathy hug. It could bite.
The poor woman is more talking to herself than to us. And she's not making much sense. Branka did something. Something horrible Hespith would not speak of. I am unsure she even realizes we are not just an illusion. It probably doesn't make much of a difference for her. She is lost and there's nothing we could do for her. And then off she runs and we are not any wiser.
„At least it seems Branka is anywhere around here,“ Rori observes.
Okay, maybe a little bit wiser.
„Then what are you waiting for?“ Oghren is the first to follow Hespith. „Come on, before we lose track of her!“
So we chase after her. It's not hard to do. She wants us to follow her. Whatever Branka's crime, Hespith wants us to know. With a bit of luck she'll lead us right to her Paragon.
"Branka became obsessed, that is the word but it is not strong enough. Blessed Stone, there was nothing left in her but the Anvil." Hespith's voice calls from the shadows, a harsh whisper, so sad, so desperate. „The men they kill, they're merciful. But the women, they want. They want to touch, to mold, to change until you are filled with them...“
„That doesn't sound good at all, does it?“ I murmur. I am so completely crept out, I can hardly breathe. Not that breathing is something I'd advise on. Shallow short breaths, just enough not to faint. Best pant with your mouth. Wynne and Leliana keep pressing scented handkerchieves to their faces. I very much doubt that makes much of a difference. The stench has already soaked into our clothes and hair, its a sticky layer on our skin.
We stand in front of that huge door and I just know whatever is hiding inside, I will never be the same person after seeing it. Rori presses both her palms to the door, her breathing ragged. I can see the throbbing of her pulse at her throat. Her heart is racing with fear. She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply – baaaad idea! She's gagging instantly afterwards.
„Oh, bloody blast it!“ she growls and pushes the door open.
I do not want to think of the details Hespith reveals, I wish I never heard any of that, wish I did not know. I hear it but my mind refuses to accept it.
That girl she speaks of... Laryn... they turned her into... something that spawns darkspawn... into a...
„Broodmother!“ Hespith intones.
„What in the name of the Maker is a...?“ Wynne begins when we turn around the corner... and see.
„Oh Maker!“
You would think we've already seen a whole lot of scary, creepy and gross things. We've come across so many, and so often I thought: this is it! It's downright impossible that there should be a monster more abhorrent, more disgusting, uglier or meaner. But there it is! The worst thing is not that this... thing... is there. The worst thing is that it was forced to become what it is.
It is a huge wobbly mass of stinking corrupted flesh with far too many... breasts... and tentacles, the face swollen beyond recognition.
„I liked your mushroom-theory better,“ Rori mutters next to me.
- 58
- 59
- 60
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

In good times and in bad