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peopleofthedas2011-07-28 07:01 pm
jannifer) wrote in peopleofthedas2011-07-28 07:01 pm
Andraste Reborn
An epic battle in the Frostback Mountains challenges the Warden and her party. Who will be left standing?
AN: This piece features my elven mage, Celwyn, who just happens to be one of my favorite playthroughs. My heartfelt thanks to1smut_princess for her encouragement and her beta reading. I can do grammar, but the creative stuff is another thing entirely. I actually started this piece when I was taking a break during the battle with "Andraste" and finally finished it sometime last night. Constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms.
Samhain grabbed the belt of Celwyn’s mage robes as she slid by her Mabari. Fortunately, ninety-six pounds of frantic elf was no match for a hundred eighty-three pounds of determined Mabari. He dug his paws in and stopped her slide toward the high dragon. Celwyn was beginning to regret using Kolgrim’s horn, but the need had been too great. The dragon’s horde would likely fund their quest for several months, and they desperately needed the coin, not to mention the weapons and armor the dragon had stashed away.
~~~~~
She had come when the horn sounded, as she always came. But these humans were not of her blood. They smelled of her children and death. The biting smell of her mates’ flames still hung about them. They had killed her blood and her kith. Anger turned her thoughts red as she swung about to face the big warrior in gleaming armor.
~~~~~
Zevran deftly tipped more poison onto his blades while Sten adjusted his grip on Yusaris. Celwyn grabbed a poultice and hurriedly dumped it over the gash across Samhain’s ribs, breathing a sigh of relief as the bleeding immediately stopped and the flesh begin to knit. Behind her, Leliana’s bowstring twanged as arrow after arrow flew toward the dragon.
The dragon let loose a roar which made Celwyn’s ears ring and cut off her incantation. Ooooooo! She is pissed.
~~~~~
She roared her fury into the blue skies overhead. It had amused her that her blood called her “Andraste.” She had heard of Andraste from her dragon kin. Each high dragon kept her own territory and defended it tenaciously, but they still spoke to one another in thought. The name had served her well enough. She had food, safety for her young, a warm den and room for her mates. The only cost to her had been a bit of blood once each moon. All in all, an utterly insignificant price to pay for such comforts and safeties.
~~~~~
Celwyn was dimly aware of Sten’s answering roar as he charged the dragon. Shaking her head, she managed to clear it enough to begin another incantation, reminding herself repeatedly as she began chanting that an embattled mage could not afford the distraction of a “simple” roar.
Ice. We need ice. Wait, a hex first, then ice.
Switching incantations mid-chant was never a good thing in theory. In practice, the possible dangers of crossing incantations paled beside the hulking figure of an angry high dragon. Zev’s warning cry had Celwyn and Samhain diving out of the way as the dragon’s tail swept over their heads.
There isn’t enough cover, Celwyn thought as she dodged dragon tail to get behind a broken pillar. Maker only knows how long she’s been here. The ground was scoured of vegetation, only yellow sulfur deposits and naked rock remained. The bare outlines of what must have once been a largish compound on either side of a central colonnade still traced across the ground. There wasn’t really any rubble to hide behind, only a few sections of wall remained standing along with a couple of broken columns, one of which was currently acting as Celwyn’s shield. She briefly wondered if the dragon had cleared all the rubble ages ago for just this possibility, then had to refocus her thoughts on the next incantation.
~~~~~
Oh, look at how they scurried away from her! Such pitiful little things, these humans. She had prepared her battlefield centuries ago and kept it prepared. When she was airborne or lying in her aerie, there was no hiding place for those who might threaten her and her blood. Even when she was on the ground, there were very few places for humans to hide. She chuckled to herself. She would soon put an end to these pests.
~~~~~
As the dragon hissed and spat just a few yards from her hiding place, Celwyn frosted the blades Sten and Zevran were wielding and fought the urge to giggle as a thin nimbus of hoarfrost swept over Samhain. It was strange to think that the Mabari’s teeth might deal ice damage, although Celwyn was never sure whether that was actually the case or not.
The hex had taken hold, and Celwyn sent a cone of cold after it, measuring the damage as the dragon’s scales briefly whitened. Not enough. Not nearly enough. The high dragon roared again as Sten’s and Zevran’s blades cut through her rapidly thawing scales. Samhain shook his head, stunned, then dove bank into the fray.
~~~~~
Cold, bitter and biting, covered her scales and sank into her soft underbelly. Stinging cuts sent the cold deeper into her. Rage burned through her. How dare they! She was to be worshipped and feared! Rearing on her hind legs, she swept her powerful wings through the air several times. Let them see her power and tremble!
~~~~~
Think! What else do I have? Celwyn frantically threw a quick healing spell at Zevran, who was bleeding badly from a deep gouge in his left hip. Sten landed on his back and slid several feet when “Andraste” stirred up a powerful gust of wind with her wings. “Sten, Zevran, Samhain! Get out of there!” Celwyn began the incantation for a death cloud. In the time it took her to finish the complex spell, the others had joined her. She reached for a lyrium potion, downed it, then drew in a deep breath. Cold and moisture began to coalesce around the high dragon in front of her. It’s so hard to see her. I’ve got to anchor the center of this blizzard to her, or the storm won’t hold together.
~~~~~
Shaking her head from side to side, she sought to clear her vision. What was this darkness? Magic. She could sense it in her bones. Little bits of her soul were being chipped away. A deep ache bore down on her, making her drop down to four legs and lower her head. Cold again! The form was familiar. She had seen great storms sweep through the mountains, but she had always retreated to the warmth and safety of the den at the back of her aerie. She could not see, could not escape this storm. She instinctively called for her drakes, but none of them came. Her mental wail echoed through the emptiness her mates had once filled.
~~~~~
Narrowing her eyes against the wind, Leliana aimed her shots into the center of the storm, carefully accounting for the way the winds would affect the path of the missiles she readied. She shattered armor and then loosed scatter shot which she followed up with arrow of slaying. The great dragon sank to her belly as the spirit damage and the cold sapped her lifeforce. Zevran looked at Sten, pointed to himself then raised his hand to eye level to indicate he would attack high. He finished the gesture with a tap to his head. Sten nodded and pointed at himself, then held his hand at waist level, indicating he’d go low. He drew a hand across his throat. Celwyn watched the quickfire exchange between Qunari and elf, then gave Samhain the hand signal for “stay” followed by “guard” and pointed to herself. The storm was clearing and the black cloud beginning to thin around “Andraste.”
~~~~~
Finally, the blackness began to clear, and she could see her enemies. Battle rage still reddened her vision, but she was so weak. The cold sapped her strength, and her spirit felt like a thin stream trickling through her. No! The sun reflected off armor and made the blades coated with her red-black blood gleam wetly. She would not die! She would fight! Pulling her legs under her and spreading her wings, she rose for one more attack. Let these puny creatures see that she would not fall so easily!
~~~~~
Zevran flew high, and Sten swept low. The great beast tried to shake Zevran from her, but when she raised her head, Sten swung Yusaris in an arc which opened the length of her throat, from jaw to breast bone. Sten spun aside as she collapsed, and Zevran delivered the coup de grace, a sword through the space between the base of her skull and the top of her spine. With blood flowing from her wounds like a river, the great high dragon collapsed, and the light left her eyes.
AN: This piece features my elven mage, Celwyn, who just happens to be one of my favorite playthroughs. My heartfelt thanks to
1smut_princess for her encouragement and her beta reading. I can do grammar, but the creative stuff is another thing entirely. I actually started this piece when I was taking a break during the battle with "Andraste" and finally finished it sometime last night. Constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms.Samhain grabbed the belt of Celwyn’s mage robes as she slid by her Mabari. Fortunately, ninety-six pounds of frantic elf was no match for a hundred eighty-three pounds of determined Mabari. He dug his paws in and stopped her slide toward the high dragon. Celwyn was beginning to regret using Kolgrim’s horn, but the need had been too great. The dragon’s horde would likely fund their quest for several months, and they desperately needed the coin, not to mention the weapons and armor the dragon had stashed away.
~~~~~
She had come when the horn sounded, as she always came. But these humans were not of her blood. They smelled of her children and death. The biting smell of her mates’ flames still hung about them. They had killed her blood and her kith. Anger turned her thoughts red as she swung about to face the big warrior in gleaming armor.
~~~~~
Zevran deftly tipped more poison onto his blades while Sten adjusted his grip on Yusaris. Celwyn grabbed a poultice and hurriedly dumped it over the gash across Samhain’s ribs, breathing a sigh of relief as the bleeding immediately stopped and the flesh begin to knit. Behind her, Leliana’s bowstring twanged as arrow after arrow flew toward the dragon.
The dragon let loose a roar which made Celwyn’s ears ring and cut off her incantation. Ooooooo! She is pissed.
~~~~~
She roared her fury into the blue skies overhead. It had amused her that her blood called her “Andraste.” She had heard of Andraste from her dragon kin. Each high dragon kept her own territory and defended it tenaciously, but they still spoke to one another in thought. The name had served her well enough. She had food, safety for her young, a warm den and room for her mates. The only cost to her had been a bit of blood once each moon. All in all, an utterly insignificant price to pay for such comforts and safeties.
~~~~~
Celwyn was dimly aware of Sten’s answering roar as he charged the dragon. Shaking her head, she managed to clear it enough to begin another incantation, reminding herself repeatedly as she began chanting that an embattled mage could not afford the distraction of a “simple” roar.
Ice. We need ice. Wait, a hex first, then ice.
Switching incantations mid-chant was never a good thing in theory. In practice, the possible dangers of crossing incantations paled beside the hulking figure of an angry high dragon. Zev’s warning cry had Celwyn and Samhain diving out of the way as the dragon’s tail swept over their heads.
There isn’t enough cover, Celwyn thought as she dodged dragon tail to get behind a broken pillar. Maker only knows how long she’s been here. The ground was scoured of vegetation, only yellow sulfur deposits and naked rock remained. The bare outlines of what must have once been a largish compound on either side of a central colonnade still traced across the ground. There wasn’t really any rubble to hide behind, only a few sections of wall remained standing along with a couple of broken columns, one of which was currently acting as Celwyn’s shield. She briefly wondered if the dragon had cleared all the rubble ages ago for just this possibility, then had to refocus her thoughts on the next incantation.
~~~~~
Oh, look at how they scurried away from her! Such pitiful little things, these humans. She had prepared her battlefield centuries ago and kept it prepared. When she was airborne or lying in her aerie, there was no hiding place for those who might threaten her and her blood. Even when she was on the ground, there were very few places for humans to hide. She chuckled to herself. She would soon put an end to these pests.
~~~~~
As the dragon hissed and spat just a few yards from her hiding place, Celwyn frosted the blades Sten and Zevran were wielding and fought the urge to giggle as a thin nimbus of hoarfrost swept over Samhain. It was strange to think that the Mabari’s teeth might deal ice damage, although Celwyn was never sure whether that was actually the case or not.
The hex had taken hold, and Celwyn sent a cone of cold after it, measuring the damage as the dragon’s scales briefly whitened. Not enough. Not nearly enough. The high dragon roared again as Sten’s and Zevran’s blades cut through her rapidly thawing scales. Samhain shook his head, stunned, then dove bank into the fray.
~~~~~
Cold, bitter and biting, covered her scales and sank into her soft underbelly. Stinging cuts sent the cold deeper into her. Rage burned through her. How dare they! She was to be worshipped and feared! Rearing on her hind legs, she swept her powerful wings through the air several times. Let them see her power and tremble!
~~~~~
Think! What else do I have? Celwyn frantically threw a quick healing spell at Zevran, who was bleeding badly from a deep gouge in his left hip. Sten landed on his back and slid several feet when “Andraste” stirred up a powerful gust of wind with her wings. “Sten, Zevran, Samhain! Get out of there!” Celwyn began the incantation for a death cloud. In the time it took her to finish the complex spell, the others had joined her. She reached for a lyrium potion, downed it, then drew in a deep breath. Cold and moisture began to coalesce around the high dragon in front of her. It’s so hard to see her. I’ve got to anchor the center of this blizzard to her, or the storm won’t hold together.
~~~~~
Shaking her head from side to side, she sought to clear her vision. What was this darkness? Magic. She could sense it in her bones. Little bits of her soul were being chipped away. A deep ache bore down on her, making her drop down to four legs and lower her head. Cold again! The form was familiar. She had seen great storms sweep through the mountains, but she had always retreated to the warmth and safety of the den at the back of her aerie. She could not see, could not escape this storm. She instinctively called for her drakes, but none of them came. Her mental wail echoed through the emptiness her mates had once filled.
~~~~~
Narrowing her eyes against the wind, Leliana aimed her shots into the center of the storm, carefully accounting for the way the winds would affect the path of the missiles she readied. She shattered armor and then loosed scatter shot which she followed up with arrow of slaying. The great dragon sank to her belly as the spirit damage and the cold sapped her lifeforce. Zevran looked at Sten, pointed to himself then raised his hand to eye level to indicate he would attack high. He finished the gesture with a tap to his head. Sten nodded and pointed at himself, then held his hand at waist level, indicating he’d go low. He drew a hand across his throat. Celwyn watched the quickfire exchange between Qunari and elf, then gave Samhain the hand signal for “stay” followed by “guard” and pointed to herself. The storm was clearing and the black cloud beginning to thin around “Andraste.”
~~~~~
Finally, the blackness began to clear, and she could see her enemies. Battle rage still reddened her vision, but she was so weak. The cold sapped her strength, and her spirit felt like a thin stream trickling through her. No! The sun reflected off armor and made the blades coated with her red-black blood gleam wetly. She would not die! She would fight! Pulling her legs under her and spreading her wings, she rose for one more attack. Let these puny creatures see that she would not fall so easily!
~~~~~
Zevran flew high, and Sten swept low. The great beast tried to shake Zevran from her, but when she raised her head, Sten swung Yusaris in an arc which opened the length of her throat, from jaw to breast bone. Sten spun aside as she collapsed, and Zevran delivered the coup de grace, a sword through the space between the base of her skull and the top of her spine. With blood flowing from her wounds like a river, the great high dragon collapsed, and the light left her eyes.