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Old 01-18-2013, 03:02 PM   #8
Vaprakgruumsh
Drizzt Do'Urden
 

Join Date: November 24, 2001
Location: Neverending Nights
Age: 47
Posts: 634
Default Re: Dragon Age: Life Begins With Death.

Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled to the lonely moon that hung in the darkened skies above. “Blight wolf,” Quinn pointed, his eyes peering into the darkness beyond the campfire. “You can hear it, can’t you?”

William turned and looked at Quinn. “The song of the Darkspawn. It’s pounding in my head,” William admitted. “They’re on the move. In great numbers, rising from the South.” There was no need to tell Quinn, though the Blood Mage seemed less affected by the Blight Song.

Day and night, they could hear the Blight Wolves, always somewhere behind them, it seemed, trailing them. They continued to move West, on the northern side of the Drakon River. In an attempt to loose their pursuers, they crossed to the southern side of the Drakon River on the third night.

“The land,” Quinn pointed out.

“By the Maker,” William muttered, drawing his breath. The disease of the Blight had not yet crossed the river. The difference was breathtakingly horrible. On the Southern side of the Drakon River, the Earth itself seemed to have withered and died at the touch of the Blight; the grass had died, and turned brown, everything seemed brittle and fragile. As if matching the darkened mood found on the southern side of the Drakon River, black clouds blotted out the sun.

Forodin suddenly snapped William from his thoughts as a low growl escaped his chest. William looked at Forodin, who seemed to be intently peering at the grassy hedge just ahead. Mabari were not to be taken lightly; and already Forodin had proved himself as they voyage from Lothering had brought them into several scattered scouting parties of Darkspawn; and Forodin attacked with calculated strikes and viciousness.

William drew his blade and moved slowly towards the hedge. Quinn shook his head and began preparing a spell that would eliminate any threat that emerged. William peered through the hedge and saw a small town. No one seemed to be stirring within the town. William signaled Quinn to come closer and look. “A town,” Quinn shrugged. “Your dog is growling at an empty town.”

“Empty because of the Darkspawn,” Quinn went on to say. “Whatever this small town was – they’re no more. Dragged into the underground by the Darkspawn, to become the latest victims.”

“Something’s not right,” William shook his head. “I can feel it. Come on.”

“In there?” Quinn scoffed. “You won’t find anything but corpses.”

“That should be properly buried,” William responded, “so that the Maker can properly welcome them.”

“We are not about to dig an assortment of graves,” Quinn growled. “I will not dirty my hands for such a task.”

Despite his protests, Quinn followed William into the small town. Bodies littered the town’s roads. Farmers, most of them, dead. “They never stood a chance,” William whispered, shocked by the decimated town. “No women,” William finally said after a moment. “Where are the female victims?”

“Probably dragged beneath the surface for whatever perversion the Darkspawn have in mind,” Quinn said matter-of-factly. The thought churned William’s stomach, bleached his face white with sickness.

Forodin began growling again. William spun around with his sword in hand. A young child stood before them, his skin darkened and stained with welts, cuts, and bruises, all of which were emitting some kind of greenish-red liquid.

“He’s been infected by the Taint,” Quinn said in hushed tones.

“They came before dawn; the Darkspawn! The Darkspawn! Came and slaughtered, father and son, took mother and daughter! Their taint in our veins! Bind us with invisible chains! Not much left of me! Far less than what you see! Not much left of me…”

“He’s become a ghoul,” Quinn said more loudly. “There’s nothing left of him. He’s standing before us – flesh and blood – but he’s gone. You have to kill him. Put him out of his misery.”

William stared at the young boy, who had begun repeating the chant of the Darkspawn invasion. “I will make them pay for this,” William whispered. “Maker forgive me and take this boy into your arms.”

With that, William swung his blade with all of his force, decapitating the boy’s head, which landed at his feet, eerily looking up at him with a strange smile.
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