bamftastik (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bamftastik) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
peopleofthedas2011-04-13 08:44 pm
bamftastik) wrote in peopleofthedas2011-04-13 08:44 pm
No More Heroes, Chapter 10
Title: No More Heroes, Chapter 10
Characters: Zevran, Nathaniel, Oghren, Shale, Alistair, Morrigan
Rating: T
Words: 1,750
Summary: The Blight has not ended. Alistair departed during the Landsmeet and both Loghain and the Warden perished in the siege of Denerim. In its wake, the scattered companions undertake a search for a wandering drunk and the witch that could save them all.
Zevran, Nathaniel, Oghren and Shale travel through the Wilds seeking Morrigan but find someone unexpected. Alistair dreams.
Previous Chapters
"Dwarf. What do you see?"
From his perch on Shale's shoulder, Oghren grunted. "A house. Might be the one. I dunno."
Nathaniel quirked a brow. "Haven't you been here before?"
"I was drunk."
"Of course you were."
"Hey! Some of my proudest moments have been drunk. An' well... some of the least proud, too, I'll give ya that. But we were fightin' a dragon. I was distracted." He strained to look down across the hills, but Shale braced a hand against his chest.
"If the Dwarf wishes to break his neck, I would be happy to assist."
Nathaniel slipped a spyglass from his belt and peered down into the clearing below.
"Coulda told me you had that, y'know."
"You did not ask." After a moment he shook his head and stowed the glass away. "It is a simple hut. And it appears to be abandoned."
"No sign of Morrigan?"
"How am I to know that? Perhaps if our guide would tell us what it is that we're looking for..." He cast a pointed glance behind them, to the figure laying stretched upon the hillside.
Zevran feigned a yawn but made no move to rise.
With a scowl, Nathaniel turned a stalked toward him, making as if to slip a boot beneath the elf's ribs. But Zevran caught his ankle, holding him there as he opened a lazy eye.
"Hm?"
"I believe we are here."
"Oh? And where else would we be?"
Nathaniel snorted. "There is a clearing over the next ridge, a small building. I assume it is the place you described?"
"There are not many who would call the Wilds home. Our Morrigan was... unique."
"We should proceed cautiously."
Zevran pushed himself onto his elbows. "You know, my friend, for a wandering scoundrel, you have a rather poor sense of adventure."
With a snort, Nathaniel offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. "I'm no scoundrel."
"Ah, but 'vagabond' lacks that certain noble ring." Moving to the ridge, Zevran peered through the offered glass. "At least you picked a spot with decent sun."
Nathaniel sighed. "Is it the one that you remember?"
"Oh, yes."
"And this Morrigan... You suspect that she simply returned home? That we need simply knock on her door?"
"Where Morrigan is concerned, my friend, 'simple' is a word that rarely applies." With a shrug, he tossed the glass over his shoulder, starting away down the hill as Nathaniel reached out to snatch it from the air.
"Andraste's blood! He's going to get us all killed."
Beside him, Oghren chuckled. "He'll do his soddin' best."
With a whispered growl, Nathaniel jogged down the path, falling into step beside the elf.
Zevran watched him from the corner of his eye. "You did not have to come, my friend." He smirked. "But I am guessing it was the queen's idea, yes?"
"I go where I please."
"I have no doubt. You seemed particularly pleased to leave her side, and as quickly as possible."
"Anora can be... insufferable."
Zevran chuckled at that. "The best kind of woman, in my experience."
"To the Void with your experience."
He clucked his tongue. "Touchy. But you were right to leave. It will make your reunion all the sweeter."
They sank into guarded silence as the path began to level, opening onto a familiar clearing nestled in the swamp. Shale stopped behind them, glancing round with narrowed eyes. With a grunt, she lowered Oghren to the ground. "I do not like this."
"Heh. You don't like anythin'."
"And the Dwarf is as blind as he is heavy."
"Blind? I'm not— Ooh." Unslinging the axe from his back, Oghren moved to Zevran's side. "Hey, elf. You notice anythin' wrong here?"
Looking from the hut to the still waters of the swamp, Zevran shook his head.
"Last time we were here... didn't we leave a...?"
"Ah. A rather large and very dead dragon, yes?"
"Yeh. So where is it?"
"A dragon." Nathaniel's scowl deepened as a hand strayed to his bow.
"Flemeth. Morrigan's mother. I may have... neglected to mention her."
"Makes her daughter look like a bloody paragon."
Zevran chuckled. "Oh, I doubt it. But if your paragons dressed like that, I might have to visit Orzammar more often."
"Mages." Shale snorted. "We will find nothing but treachery."
"You are still afraid of magic, my dear Shale? I should think one of your impressive... stoniness would be all but immune to fear."
"I am not afraid. But if this does not end with crushing the Swamp Witch into a fine paste, I fail to see the point."
"I agree." Nathaniel folded his arms. "We should be searching for the Warden. Just because some dead woman's diary—"
Zevran took a step forward, but Oghren had already moved between them, pressing the flat of his axe to the elf's chest to halt him. It was to Nathaniel that he looked. "If you'da known Her, you wouldn't be so quick to talk." With a wistful chuckle, he lowered the axe and stroked his beard. "She always did have the best ideas."
"Until the last."
Zevran would have lunged then, but a crash echoed across the clearing. He turned, watching as the worn wooden door thundered against its hinges. The crash came again, as though some great beast were trapped within.
Nathaniel drew his bow, Zevran his blades and Oghren took up his axe between them. "Hut's too small for a dragon... right?"
Behind them Shale snorted, but she made no move to go closer.
They approached as one, slowly, cautiously. But the sound did not come again. Zevran slipped to one side of the door, Nathaniel taking position on the other.
Looking between them, Oghren scowled. "Oh, no ya don't."
Zevran smirked, lowering his voice to a whispered hiss. "Maybe you will be fortunate, my friend. Maybe you are so short that the dragon will not notice you."
"Just be quick about it." Nathaniel sighted along his shaft, never taking his eyes from the door.
"Bloody, nug-lovin'—"
Oghren kicked as hard as he could, leaping aside as the door flew inward. But he wasn't quick enough. A shadowed flurry of fur and claws lunged from the hut, bowling him over to topple in the dirt. The dwarf growled, throwing the thing off of him, but he had lost his axe, turning to face it barehanded as it righted itself.
The mabari stopped. It cocked its head, studying the dusty dwarf. After a moment, one ear unflattened quizzically.
"Well, I'll be a... Scraps?"
Nathaniel bent to help the dwarf to his feet, but it was to Zevran that the hound looked now. It moved forward slowly, stretching out its neck to give his hand a hesitant sniff. It had always been wary of him, its demeanor softening only slightly when She had begun taking him to her bed. Perhaps there was something familiar in the scent that reached it now, recalling some shared memory. Meeting his eyes, it gave his fingers a gentle lick.
Shale snorted. "All of the beasts look alike. How do we know that this is the same?"
The mabari tilted its head and trotted over to lift its leg on the golem's feet.
"Gah!"
It dodged her kick with ease, but at the sight of Shale staggering it stopped to peer up at her with panting amusement.
"That's 'im alright." Oghren chortled. "Oh come on, ya big lumox. He didn't get any on ya. I've spilled more on my own feet."
"I have no doubt."
He scratched at his beard. "What's he doing all the way out here, I wonder. And locked in there? Ya think he was looking for Morrigan too?"
"The woman wronged its master." Nathaniel stuck his head round the doorframe, peering into the narrow space within. "They say that mabari are intelligent, but I doubt he is as clever as that."
Scraps whined.
Finding nothing, Nathaniel cast a glare at Zevran over his shoulder. "It seems your witch is not in. I don't suppose you have another guess as to where she might be?"
* * *
She came over him like fever. At first he thought it merely another tremor, the spasms in his legs jerking him from this strange half-sleep. They would pass – they always passed – and he could slip away again. But this movement was new, something outside himself, an intruding warmth sliding cross his knees. Alistair opened his eyes.
The vision was not one that he'd expected. So many times She had come for him with Her accusing stares or – Maker help him – Her soft and silent tears. When next he woke it would be Leliana watching over him, her gentle ministrations stirring guilt anew. Had someone told him a year ago that this particular dream would bring relief, he would have called them mad.
It was Morrigan that leaned over him now, tilting her head as she sneered. "You are a fool."
"Obviously." Alistair groaned, shifting as he willed sleep to take him again.
But she grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at her. Maker, it actually hurt. "Your Warden was a fool."
"Go away."
"No."
Alistair managed to slide from beneath her, curling onto his side to bury his head in his arms. He stared at the canvas. If he could not slip away again, he would will himself awake.
"Alistair. Stop being a child."
"If you're just here to insult me, why didn't She come herself? Nothing ever stopped Her before."
"She...?" The vision paused. "The Warden. Perhaps you are truly as mad as Sten claims."
"Great. You've been talking to Sten. Even my subconscious doesn't believe I'm sane."
Morrigan growled, nails digging into his side to roll him onto his back. Alistair resisted, curling tighter, forcing her to lean round and lower her face to his. Her eyes narrowed. "You are both fools. So intent on death that you would cling to it despite all sense."
"La-la-la not listening."
Rising to her feet, she gave him a kick. "She need not have died. When the time comes, do not make the same mistake." With that, she vanished beneath the tent's flap and into the night.
Alistair could not say how long it was before he woke. He had the sudden sensation of plummeting, found his cheek pressed to cold and sodden blankets as his eyes flew open. It was with great pain that he pushed himself to his feet, still dizzied by the dream as he stumbled out of the tent. The cool air provided some relief, left him wondering what he'd truly expected to find. Only the mabari remained awake, watching him across the fire with narrowed eyes.
Characters: Zevran, Nathaniel, Oghren, Shale, Alistair, Morrigan
Rating: T
Words: 1,750
Summary: The Blight has not ended. Alistair departed during the Landsmeet and both Loghain and the Warden perished in the siege of Denerim. In its wake, the scattered companions undertake a search for a wandering drunk and the witch that could save them all.
Zevran, Nathaniel, Oghren and Shale travel through the Wilds seeking Morrigan but find someone unexpected. Alistair dreams.
Previous Chapters
"Dwarf. What do you see?"
From his perch on Shale's shoulder, Oghren grunted. "A house. Might be the one. I dunno."
Nathaniel quirked a brow. "Haven't you been here before?"
"I was drunk."
"Of course you were."
"Hey! Some of my proudest moments have been drunk. An' well... some of the least proud, too, I'll give ya that. But we were fightin' a dragon. I was distracted." He strained to look down across the hills, but Shale braced a hand against his chest.
"If the Dwarf wishes to break his neck, I would be happy to assist."
Nathaniel slipped a spyglass from his belt and peered down into the clearing below.
"Coulda told me you had that, y'know."
"You did not ask." After a moment he shook his head and stowed the glass away. "It is a simple hut. And it appears to be abandoned."
"No sign of Morrigan?"
"How am I to know that? Perhaps if our guide would tell us what it is that we're looking for..." He cast a pointed glance behind them, to the figure laying stretched upon the hillside.
Zevran feigned a yawn but made no move to rise.
With a scowl, Nathaniel turned a stalked toward him, making as if to slip a boot beneath the elf's ribs. But Zevran caught his ankle, holding him there as he opened a lazy eye.
"Hm?"
"I believe we are here."
"Oh? And where else would we be?"
Nathaniel snorted. "There is a clearing over the next ridge, a small building. I assume it is the place you described?"
"There are not many who would call the Wilds home. Our Morrigan was... unique."
"We should proceed cautiously."
Zevran pushed himself onto his elbows. "You know, my friend, for a wandering scoundrel, you have a rather poor sense of adventure."
With a snort, Nathaniel offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. "I'm no scoundrel."
"Ah, but 'vagabond' lacks that certain noble ring." Moving to the ridge, Zevran peered through the offered glass. "At least you picked a spot with decent sun."
Nathaniel sighed. "Is it the one that you remember?"
"Oh, yes."
"And this Morrigan... You suspect that she simply returned home? That we need simply knock on her door?"
"Where Morrigan is concerned, my friend, 'simple' is a word that rarely applies." With a shrug, he tossed the glass over his shoulder, starting away down the hill as Nathaniel reached out to snatch it from the air.
"Andraste's blood! He's going to get us all killed."
Beside him, Oghren chuckled. "He'll do his soddin' best."
With a whispered growl, Nathaniel jogged down the path, falling into step beside the elf.
Zevran watched him from the corner of his eye. "You did not have to come, my friend." He smirked. "But I am guessing it was the queen's idea, yes?"
"I go where I please."
"I have no doubt. You seemed particularly pleased to leave her side, and as quickly as possible."
"Anora can be... insufferable."
Zevran chuckled at that. "The best kind of woman, in my experience."
"To the Void with your experience."
He clucked his tongue. "Touchy. But you were right to leave. It will make your reunion all the sweeter."
They sank into guarded silence as the path began to level, opening onto a familiar clearing nestled in the swamp. Shale stopped behind them, glancing round with narrowed eyes. With a grunt, she lowered Oghren to the ground. "I do not like this."
"Heh. You don't like anythin'."
"And the Dwarf is as blind as he is heavy."
"Blind? I'm not— Ooh." Unslinging the axe from his back, Oghren moved to Zevran's side. "Hey, elf. You notice anythin' wrong here?"
Looking from the hut to the still waters of the swamp, Zevran shook his head.
"Last time we were here... didn't we leave a...?"
"Ah. A rather large and very dead dragon, yes?"
"Yeh. So where is it?"
"A dragon." Nathaniel's scowl deepened as a hand strayed to his bow.
"Flemeth. Morrigan's mother. I may have... neglected to mention her."
"Makes her daughter look like a bloody paragon."
Zevran chuckled. "Oh, I doubt it. But if your paragons dressed like that, I might have to visit Orzammar more often."
"Mages." Shale snorted. "We will find nothing but treachery."
"You are still afraid of magic, my dear Shale? I should think one of your impressive... stoniness would be all but immune to fear."
"I am not afraid. But if this does not end with crushing the Swamp Witch into a fine paste, I fail to see the point."
"I agree." Nathaniel folded his arms. "We should be searching for the Warden. Just because some dead woman's diary—"
Zevran took a step forward, but Oghren had already moved between them, pressing the flat of his axe to the elf's chest to halt him. It was to Nathaniel that he looked. "If you'da known Her, you wouldn't be so quick to talk." With a wistful chuckle, he lowered the axe and stroked his beard. "She always did have the best ideas."
"Until the last."
Zevran would have lunged then, but a crash echoed across the clearing. He turned, watching as the worn wooden door thundered against its hinges. The crash came again, as though some great beast were trapped within.
Nathaniel drew his bow, Zevran his blades and Oghren took up his axe between them. "Hut's too small for a dragon... right?"
Behind them Shale snorted, but she made no move to go closer.
They approached as one, slowly, cautiously. But the sound did not come again. Zevran slipped to one side of the door, Nathaniel taking position on the other.
Looking between them, Oghren scowled. "Oh, no ya don't."
Zevran smirked, lowering his voice to a whispered hiss. "Maybe you will be fortunate, my friend. Maybe you are so short that the dragon will not notice you."
"Just be quick about it." Nathaniel sighted along his shaft, never taking his eyes from the door.
"Bloody, nug-lovin'—"
Oghren kicked as hard as he could, leaping aside as the door flew inward. But he wasn't quick enough. A shadowed flurry of fur and claws lunged from the hut, bowling him over to topple in the dirt. The dwarf growled, throwing the thing off of him, but he had lost his axe, turning to face it barehanded as it righted itself.
The mabari stopped. It cocked its head, studying the dusty dwarf. After a moment, one ear unflattened quizzically.
"Well, I'll be a... Scraps?"
Nathaniel bent to help the dwarf to his feet, but it was to Zevran that the hound looked now. It moved forward slowly, stretching out its neck to give his hand a hesitant sniff. It had always been wary of him, its demeanor softening only slightly when She had begun taking him to her bed. Perhaps there was something familiar in the scent that reached it now, recalling some shared memory. Meeting his eyes, it gave his fingers a gentle lick.
Shale snorted. "All of the beasts look alike. How do we know that this is the same?"
The mabari tilted its head and trotted over to lift its leg on the golem's feet.
"Gah!"
It dodged her kick with ease, but at the sight of Shale staggering it stopped to peer up at her with panting amusement.
"That's 'im alright." Oghren chortled. "Oh come on, ya big lumox. He didn't get any on ya. I've spilled more on my own feet."
"I have no doubt."
He scratched at his beard. "What's he doing all the way out here, I wonder. And locked in there? Ya think he was looking for Morrigan too?"
"The woman wronged its master." Nathaniel stuck his head round the doorframe, peering into the narrow space within. "They say that mabari are intelligent, but I doubt he is as clever as that."
Scraps whined.
Finding nothing, Nathaniel cast a glare at Zevran over his shoulder. "It seems your witch is not in. I don't suppose you have another guess as to where she might be?"
She came over him like fever. At first he thought it merely another tremor, the spasms in his legs jerking him from this strange half-sleep. They would pass – they always passed – and he could slip away again. But this movement was new, something outside himself, an intruding warmth sliding cross his knees. Alistair opened his eyes.
The vision was not one that he'd expected. So many times She had come for him with Her accusing stares or – Maker help him – Her soft and silent tears. When next he woke it would be Leliana watching over him, her gentle ministrations stirring guilt anew. Had someone told him a year ago that this particular dream would bring relief, he would have called them mad.
It was Morrigan that leaned over him now, tilting her head as she sneered. "You are a fool."
"Obviously." Alistair groaned, shifting as he willed sleep to take him again.
But she grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at her. Maker, it actually hurt. "Your Warden was a fool."
"Go away."
"No."
Alistair managed to slide from beneath her, curling onto his side to bury his head in his arms. He stared at the canvas. If he could not slip away again, he would will himself awake.
"Alistair. Stop being a child."
"If you're just here to insult me, why didn't She come herself? Nothing ever stopped Her before."
"She...?" The vision paused. "The Warden. Perhaps you are truly as mad as Sten claims."
"Great. You've been talking to Sten. Even my subconscious doesn't believe I'm sane."
Morrigan growled, nails digging into his side to roll him onto his back. Alistair resisted, curling tighter, forcing her to lean round and lower her face to his. Her eyes narrowed. "You are both fools. So intent on death that you would cling to it despite all sense."
"La-la-la not listening."
Rising to her feet, she gave him a kick. "She need not have died. When the time comes, do not make the same mistake." With that, she vanished beneath the tent's flap and into the night.
Alistair could not say how long it was before he woke. He had the sudden sensation of plummeting, found his cheek pressed to cold and sodden blankets as his eyes flew open. It was with great pain that he pushed himself to his feet, still dizzied by the dream as he stumbled out of the tent. The cool air provided some relief, left him wondering what he'd truly expected to find. Only the mabari remained awake, watching him across the fire with narrowed eyes.
no subject
no subject
And thanks! Chapter 11 just went up as well ;)
no subject
no subject
no subject