Shadows of Corruption

[Macman253]

Wind was quick with his hand, he flicked a throwing knife into one dwarfs snout that dropped him like a stone, in a heartbeat his Crow Blades were out and ready, just in time to parry a overhead strike from another dwarf seeking to avenge his fallen comrade. Wind stepped around the charging dwarf and ran him through with the pair of long daggers then ripped them free. He inversed his grip on them and caught an axe that was swinging for his neck in the cross of his blades. He pushed the elderly dwarf back with a kick held his daggers in a defensive posture.

 

"It wasn't personal." He said in a rather apologetic tone. "If I knew who ordered his death, I would give it to you." He added, the elderly duster heaved up his axe. "It doesn't matter now." Replied the dwarf and charged, Wind spun around and flicked his crow blade into the dwarfs heart as he charged, his axe held over his head. Wind pulled the blade free in time to get whacked over the back of the head with one dwarfs cudgel, sending him dazed and staggering to the floor. Then everything went black for him.

[FreemasonGamer]

With the help of Celeste's plentiful supply of healing magic that mended what minor wounds he received, Abraham easily cut down the remaining dusters until none remained. His heart still pounding beneath his silverite chestplate, the old Templar smugly flicked the blood of his rune-etched greatsword, but his attention quickly focused upon the Dalish elf, Wind, as his limp form lied upon the cold stone of Orzammar's street. Abraham bit his lip as he quickly kneeled beside the unconscious Antivan Crow, removing his right gauntlet to check the elf's throat for a pulse.

 

"He's alive, the fool." Abraham heaved in a sigh of relief, catching his breath as he looked the elf over. "Judging from that knot on the back of his thick skull, one of these dusters managed to club him."

 

His emerald green gaze settled upon Celeste when he asked the mage, "Do you have any magic that might bring him to? If not, it wouldn't be difficult for me to carry an elf his size."

 

He then slowly rose to his feet, but a slight stagger threatened the Templar's stance; the sudden eruption of battle still had his mind reeling and ready for an opponent to spring out from the edge of his vision at any moment. Thus, Abraham took a few moments to savor several slow, deep breaths before he briefly indulged in his own flask of Ferelden whiskey.

 

"No point looting these castless dwarves; I doubt they'd have much to offer." He remarked gruffly after swallowing a hefty drink of the spirit, "Unless you think they might have enough value on them to purchase a staff."

Edited February 3, 2016 by FreemasonGamer

[AurianaValoria1]

Once the fight was over, Celeste banished any lingering magic around the area with a wave of her hand, carefully watching Abraham to make sure his injury had healed fully. When he tossed the inquiry about Wind her way, she scoffed at the former Templar with a lopsided grin, "'Do I know any magic'...pah! A better question would be if I'm up to it," she strode over to where Wind lay and knelt, placing a hand on top of his shoulder; a gust of bright green magic later and she had showered enough magic upon the elf to counter any traumatizing effects of the blow he had been given. "There," she finally said after a few moments, standing straight once more, "That should do it. Might take him a few minutes to wake up from unconsciousness, but he should be all right."

 

The Enchantress then curled her lip with disdain as she observed the corpses of the Casteless, "Judging from the looks of them, I doubt they'd have enough on them to buy a stiff drink, much less a staff. Let's just go as soon as Wind awakens...I think I need to see the sky again."

 

Being so long in this sunless world was slowly beginning to take its toll on the mage; even if she had been cooped up in a tower most of her life, at least that tower had windows.

[FreemasonGamer]

Chuckling in response to the Enchantress's humor, the venerable Templar stowed away his flask and gave their recovering Dalish companion an impatient moment to awaken before succumbing to a dreadful sigh.

 

"Oh, sod it," Abraham grumbled, peering around the nearby shops and alleyways before lifting Wind's form onto one shoulder, "The last thing we need is to wear out our welcome after butchering a gang of dwarves in the street, castless or no."

 

Hence, he was more than willing to carry the surprisingly light elf on his shoulder as he began his hurried stride towards the passage that lead to the thaig's entrance, the Hall of Heros, where the monumental statues of the dwarven race's Paragons stood callously and impartially in stone. While the return to the surface from the heart of Orzammar undoubtedly took less than half an hour's worth of walking, the journey couldn't have reached its end any sooner in Abraham's opinion. He was ready to put Orzammar behind them in exchange for fresh air and open skies.

Edited February 5, 2016 by FreemasonGamer

[Macman253]

Wind woke not long after they departed Orzammar, he clutched the back of his head and expected pain but instead felt nothing. He looked around, noticing he was being packed over the Templar's shoulder like a sack of grain. Wind knocked on his armor with his knuckles to alert him.

 

"As much as I might have looked it... I am not a dead yet." he quipped with a smirk. "If you could let me down it would be fantastic." he added, feeling embarassed about his situation.

[AurianaValoria1]

Celeste, who had been following Abraham on the way out of the thaig, grinned and added, "I second Wind's request; I think I'm suffering from second-hand embarrassment on the elf's behalf. If I were in his shoes, I'd much rather walk out of here on my own two feet, too...before those gate guards get an eyeful."

[FreemasonGamer]

Once Wind was awake, Abraham promptly set the petite elf on his feet and firmly patted his back, smirking somewhat in mild amusement regarding both his and Celeste's comments. A brief chuckle even escaped Abraham as they continued on their way to the surface, where the crisp fresh air of the Frostbacks awaited them.

 

"Aye. To be entirely fair, however, I could have dragged you by the ankles, my friend." The aged warrior remarked lightheartedly with a modest grin, shaking his head, "Whatever it took to ensure we wouldn't be staying down there any longer than necessary."

 

Then, they finally emerged from the subterranean homeland of the dwarves, welcomed by beautiful midday skies. The scent of pine and evergreens blissfully overwhelmed the old man's senses. Nothing beat the mere scent of the outdoors after spending several days of hardship down in the Deep Roads. Happily taking in the sight of the visiting surface dwarves and traveling tradesmen whose tents and stalls decorated the surface entrance to Orzammar, Abraham's glee soon waned when he noticed the steeds and pack mules that once belonged to the populace of their failed expedition. Of the half-dozen or so beasts of burden, only one belonged to the venerable templar; the rest were a grim reminder of all those who would never know the joy of returning to the surface again.

 

"As much as it pains me, we may need to sell off any mounts we don't need to the groom," Abraham suggested to his two companions, "And regarding the others' personal effects... What do you two think we should do? I'm not very keen on sifting through the belongings of our fallen, but it doesn't feel right to just sell it all on a whim, either."

 

Indeed, it was a sore topic as to what should be done with the equipment and items of those who would never again claim ownership of them, though it needed to be addressed regardless, in Abraham's opinion.

Edited February 7, 2016 by FreemasonGamer

[AurianaValoria1]

Celeste held up her hand to shield her pale gaze as she stepped into the light beyond Orzammar's entrance. Even then, she squinted so hard she could barely see where she was going for a few minutes, knowing only to follow the brilliant sparkle and measured clanking of Abraham's silverite plate as her sight adjusted to the startling brightness outside.

 

When he mentioned the mounts, however, her sky-blue eyes went wide, and she rushed past him with purpose in her steps, silk robes swishing about her ankles, "Gabriel's horse and anything with it is mine! I don't care one wit what you do with the rest, but that one..."

 

The mage made a beeline for the sorrel stallion in the makeshift stable nearby; the dwarven groom had kept all the accompanying tack with each respective beast in their separate stalls, which included any and all saddlebags brought along by the expedition. Celeste remembered exactly the number of saddlebags Gabriel had brought with him, and she made note to count them when tacking up the horse. In the meantime, she held out her gloved hand to the stallion's velvety muzzle, letting him sniff at her with flaring nostrils. He huffed loudly at her and looked down with large and gentle mahogany eyes, and she quietly rubbed the stark white blaze that was splashed down his coppery countenance before saying softly, "I'm sorry, Chev. He's...he's not coming back. I have to take care of you, now."

 

Chevalier bumped his nose into her shoulder and met her tearful eyes; it was uncertain how much the horse understood, but he seemed to smell the sadness that enveloped the mage like a cloak. The stallion was very quiet, and he let Celeste absently stroke his golden mane as she hugged his thick, arched neck.

 

"I'm not going to sell you, or give you away," she said resolutely, "Gabriel wouldn't have wanted that."

 

With that, she opened the stall door and began awkwardly tacking the knight's stallion, trying to remember exactly how Gabriel had done it from all the times she had watched him on the way to Orzammar. She had never before taken care of a horse in her life, but she was determined to do it for Gabriel's sake. That, and she would have no one else other than stable-hands so much as touch Chevalier.

 

Once she had made sure all of the saddlebags were accounted for, she led Chevalier out of his stall, tacked and ready to go. She stood there for a moment, biting her lip to hide her nervousness. The mage had no idea how to ride. Yet, she had no choice but to improvise. Steeling herself, she put one slippered foot in a stirrup and sideways-hopped up onto Chevalier's back; her robe would not allow her to ride astride, and so she sat cross-legged in a half sidesaddle style. She half-expected Chevalier to bolt or buck, but the horse miraculously stood still, even when her weight landed rather awkwardly on him.

 

"My father once said he thought Chevalier had some Orlesian Courser blood. He's proud, but he's smart. He almost always knows what to do, even without cues."

 

Celeste swallowed hard as she remembered Gabriel's words, and she reached forward to straighten the scarlet reins, patting the knightly stallion's neck with her other hand, "Good boy, Chev. That's a good boy."

 

Addressing Abraham, she then added with a shy smile, "Unfortunately, I have no idea how to ride. But I think if Chevalier here behaves, I can manage. Might need some help at some point, but I'll let you know."

[Macman253]

Wind dropped to the earth and shifted slightly as the Templar stuck him on the shoulder. The Dalish shook his shoulder and attempted to hide the pain running through his back. When they spoke of handling their former companions goods and shrugged. "I have no ties to any of it or them." He spoke, realize afterwards how harsh he sounded, he was saddened by the truth of those words as he reflected back on his life and found it to be an inevitable truth of his life. Was it the Crow's that made him so distant from people? He thought as they walked outside.

 

Once he was hit by the light and fresh air he breathed a lot better. He was never fond of Orzammar, not because of the dwarves but because of the crushing isolation of it. When they approached the stables he found his Appaloosa mare. He had never given the mare a name and thought now was a good moment. "I shall call you Lucky." He said, patting her nose as he fixed his saddle to her back. "Because you and me are both Lucky... I was lucky enough not to die.. and you were lucky enough to be owned by me," he said cheekily, the horse replied with a snort and a whinney. He chuckled and stepped up into the saddle, guiding her out of the stables.

 

"I am ready to depart my friends!" He said, ignoring the thumping pain still clinging to the back of his head.

Edited February 8, 2016 by Macman253

[FreemasonGamer]

Left wordless by Celeste's demanding claim on her deceased companion's steed, Abraham simply nodded in her direction and mirrored his fellows' actions. Approaching the stables with a purposeful stride, the former Templar's subtle grin was met with the glinting gaze of his own horse who welcomed his rider with a familiar nicker. Considering the circumstances, Abraham was grateful to see his equine companion once again. Before he began the routine of equipping the aged stallion, Abraham took a brief moment to fondly stroke the steed's muzzle, remarking quietly with an amused tone, "Never been so happy to see the old man before, eh, Revas?"

 

In response to the warrior's jest, the Dalish All-Bred continued to nicker and huff as if he were chuckling, a lively shine in his oily black gaze. Unlike most others of his breed, Revas was a weathered stallion of an unusual coat, bearing only a defiant splash of milky white across his right shoulder. Aside from that particular stroke of coloration, the horse's monochromatic black pelt was entirely bereft of markings. Regardless, the magnificent creature was perfect and priceless in Abraham's eyes.

 

As he adjusted straps and buckles aplenty, Abraham absentmindedly considered Revas's age. He should be reaching seven years old soon, if the Templar's memory held true. Not that he was an expert at equine knowledge, but that realization concerned Abraham somewhat; hopefully his horse wouldn't succumb to the feebleness of old age anytime soon.

 

"Might need to remind me who is the old man in a year's time, old friend." The venerable warrior chuckled under his breath, habitually running a gloved hand over his greying beard once he finished equipping the horse's tack. However, the stallion found no humor in the remark, neighed stubbornly, and kicked the back wall of his stall in retaliation with such force that shook dust from the stable's rafters.

 

"Revas, cut that out!" Abraham huffed in response, leading the downright feisty horse out into the open. As the Templar expected, escaping the stall he had been occupying for the duration of their visit to Orzammar quickly satisfied Revas, dispelling his irritation.

 

Steadily stroking the stallion's neck with his left hand while holding the reins with his right, Abraham then took a moment to observe his two companions and the rest of the horses whose owners died in the Deep Roads. Brooding contemplation struck the man as he searched for a solution, and he soon came up with one. Approaching the dwarven groom who mastered the stables, Abraham initiated some hushed haggling with him until a handful of sovereigns landed in the open palm of the warrior's expecting hand.

 

Abraham quickly stored away the gold and mounted his shadowy steed, casting his voice and attention to Celeste and Wind, "The horses and equipment of our expedition's fallen shall remain with the groom; their worth in sovereigns will be much easier to take with us, and we can discuss the matter of contacting the families of the dead once we convene with our employer's men in Redcliffe."

 

Celeste's uncertain inquiry then registered in the Templar's mind, and he was quick to reply, "Looks like you're off to a good enough start, lady mage. Be firm and confident with that new horse of yours, and he should serve you well; just try not to startle him or jerk on his reins, otherwise you might end up being tossed into the mud."

Edited February 12, 2016 by FreemasonGamer