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Shadows of Corruption


AurianaValoria1

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Abraham followed Wind from a bit of a distance with his torch held aloft, keeping his eyes on the forest around them and staying alert as the elf tracked down the Avvar. At last, when they reached the cliffside, the former Templar merely shook his head in disbelief, "Maker...it's a wonder he didn't break his neck."

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Looking up at where the familiar voice came from, Volhammer let out a hearty laugh. "I would greatly appreciate it, It would take much time for me to find it my own way. It is good you came when you did, as I was just about to begin what would no doubt be a long and confusing journey back to your camp from here."

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Meanwhile, back at the encampment, Celeste found herself continuously carving piece after piece of meat, her stomach growling with a ravenous hunger that reminded her she hadn't eaten well in days. Though there was still plenty leftover for a dozen men, she couldn't help but feel guilty after she had finally eaten her fill, and she sat on a log in silence, licking her fingers and glancing around at the foggy wilderness with wide blue eyes. Maybe they wouldn't be too upset with her after they noticed a decent chunk of flank missing from the deer carcass...

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Abraham shook his head, glancing down at his belt, "I left anything like that back at camp." Looking around, however, he noticed many thick vines working their way over the cliff edge; pointing to them, he added, "Maybe we can use those?"

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Nodding softly, Abraham soon tore the bulky, branch-like vines loose from the stone and dangled them over the cliffside for the Avvar to reach down below. He detested having to improvise so dubiously, but he wasn't about to take the risk of getting lost himself in an attempt to return to camp for some proper rope. Clearing his throat, the former Templar called down to his newest companion, "See if this might hold your weight, Volhammer!"

 

He was a big fellow, but these vines were as thick as the roots of a tree. Surely the odds of success might have favored them this once; if not, Abraham made sure to pray for the Maker to make it so. After all, their breakfast still awaited them back at the campsite.

Edited by FreemasonGamer
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Wind wrapped his bow around his torso and drew his Crow Blades with a flourish. "I'll go give him a hand with his gear." Wind said as he walked backwards towards the edge of the cliff, he smirked and gave the Templar holding the vine a cocky wink as he dropped off the edge of the cliff and sank his blades into the earth to stop his descent. He pulled them free as he twisted, dropping a few meters before sinking one blade into the earth as he fell to lessen his fall, the metal blade sang as it carved a long gash into the dirt.

 

He landed feet first with a hard thud and a shower of dirt and rock. He shook himself clean and slid the knives back into their sheaths and let out a exhale of excitement. "That was quite entertaining." Wind said with a wide smile, "Let's get you and your things packed." He added, nodding towards the Avvar's encampment.

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"Just about done actually" Said Volhammer as he stuffed the last of his things into his massive pack that dwarfed an average sized man. "I thank you for your timely arrival, had you not found me I most certainly would have tried to climb up the cliff by hand! That could have led to me falling again, not something I would wish to repeat." He said as he grabbed the large vine and gave it a pull to test it. "Yes this should do!" He called out to Abe. "If not well.... If the first fall did not kill me, then I doubt the second one will." He laughed under his breath as he began the slow and careful climb back up the cliff.

 

When solid ground was beneath his feet again, Vol let out a hearty laugh before he began to walk back in the direction of the group's campsite. "I believe I have wasted enough of your time on my venture, let's return to you camp before anything else takes too much of your time yes?"

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Back at the main camp, Celeste set about packing what things she could and preparing to leave as the sun slowly began to burn off the morning fog. They would need to leave soon, as they had a long ride ahead of them; it was still quite a ways to Redcliffe, and though part of her was not eager to inform their employer of the news, the other part of her just wanted to get it all over with.

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Abraham was soon rendered red-faced under the impressive weight of Volhammer's during the Avvar's ascension back up the cliff. Once he and the Crow behind him were on solid ground, the Templar wiped the beading sweat from his heavy brow and nodded shallowly to them both. "Well done, gentlemen," He heaved between breaths, his stamina regrettably not what it used to be, "Aye, let's not keep the lady waiting."

 

As the trio returned to camp and hastily devoured the breakfast that awaited them, Abe's thoughts lingered on how much he had struggled to maintain his demonstration of strength earlier. Was his venerable age truly beginning to gnaw at him so suddenly? Perhaps not. Hopefully, Abraham would never have to bear the weight of such a massive Avvar by himself again. If such an occasion did ever arise a second time, it would surely be the Templar's last.

 

Shaking his head to chase away the bothersome collection of brooding thoughts clouding his mind and yearning for his attention, Abe exhaled deeply and wiped his hands clean after his meal before striding over to his All-Bred steed, who had seemingly just finished his morning delicacy of dewy grass. Abraham didn't have much gear to his name and even less that he had unpacked the night before, so his preparations for the road ahead were considerably swift. "Come on, old man," The Templar mumbled, soon swinging himself in the stallion's saddle. However, the ornery beast huffed and shook his head defiantly, as if to argue against his rider's accusation.

 

"Alright, alright. Have it your way, spring chicken." Abe soon chided his friend, patting the horse's powerful neck with a gloved hand until he turned his attention to his fellow travelers. "Onward to Redcliffe, eh?"

 

And so, the grayed Templar spurred his Dalish All-Bred onward with the rest of his party in tow, driven by a hope that the open road would offer him peace from his troublesome contemplation. It did not.

 

~

Following the mountainous paths through the Frostbacks to the east was a simple enough task, but the journey itself wasn't what weighed heavily on Abraham's mind. A smolder gradually took root upon the man's weary, weathered countenance as he contemplated one baffling prospect after another. Much to his dismay, it was quite difficult to refrain from brooding over how easily his abilities had been strained when assisting Volhammer earlier that morning. The thought of his age finally catching up with him unsettled Abraham greatly, and he even considered the darker repercussions of becoming feeble. What if his strength had faltered in the Deep Roads, or what might happen if he suddenly finds himself too frail to wield his own blade in any conflict to come?

 

"Gah," The Templar suddenly spat, retrieving the first container of alcohol amid the All-Bred's tack within reach. Stop it, he ordered himself silently, banishing the topic from his mind for the last time. He would not allow his age or his uncertainty to get to him now; after all, he's been through plenty already. Furthermore, there was still much work to be done.

 

However, Abe soon couldn't bare the unnerving serenity of a thoughtless mind as he tore the cork from the bottle with his teeth, and the cheap aroma teasing his nose quickly betrayed the substandard quality of the whiskey. It'll have to do. Taking his first drink, the Templar mused at the potency of the brew he had consumed the night before that had rendered him senseless by the time he had finished it. If only all drinks are as powerful, then he would never have to concern himself with such antagonizing thoughts filling his head.

 

His fondness of that evening's memory soon faded, sadly, when Abraham considered what else he could recall, which was very little. He remembered the quiet sounds of the forest, the cool air on his face, and the burning taste of the strong brew he had conjured, but there was something else... The memory of a person, watching him from across the fire? No, it was hardly that, according to the Templar's muddled memory. It was more like a silhouette, a beautiful shadow. One that took the shape of a woman, even. Abe remembered red, red of the fire, red of the woman's hair.

 

"Enough." He snapped under his breath, violently hurling the glass bottle of whiskey against a nearby boulder as he rode past. The spectacular shattering sound seemed to cut through the turmoil trying desperately to expel the reason from Abe's mind, but the man soon found himself very... upset. Angered or frustrated wouldn't have been the most accurate words. Simply... upset, bothered, rattled even... But what over?

 

The Templar couldn't even identify any provocation for his sudden outburst, which seemed to have occurred on its own accord. Hunched forward and shoulders slouched, Abraham sank into his seat until his vexation abated, leaving him wondering what had even transpired over the past several moments.

 

Sighing, he reached for a bottle of alcohol in a vain attempt to soothe his thoughts.

Edited by FreemasonGamer
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