Snippet #1373123

Asmara knew something was wrong even in her sleep. The spirits that served as her nocturnal companions were restless, and reticent as well, a combination she had never seen before. Occasionally, they would seem to lose track of their words entirely, rather the equivalent of a person constantly looking back over their shoulder frequently.

It only got worse, and the dreamscape of the Fade changed drastically within a short space of time, especially in color, and, oddly enough, scent. Where one she would have stated that the Fade smelled of clean water or occasionally sulfur depending on the location, now it reeked with the metallic tang of blood, enough so that she could almost taste it on her tongue. Something was very, very wrong indeed.

Darkspawn. The presence of the creatures was known to her like a caress against her consciousness, albeit one followed by the sharp sting of embedded talons. So was most wickedness, she thought; velvet-soft one moment, and painful as soon as one was lulled to complacency with it. Asmara's eyes snapped open even as someone's- Antuis's, she realized belatedly- hand contacted her shoulder. Agony ripped through her muscles as she forced herself to spring to her feet, grabbing her staff of silvery, twisting wood as she did. As it always had been, the smooth texture was slightly cool to the touch, evidence that it would assist her in her ice spells.

She would not insult their courage by telling them to leave, but she could not help but want to. The innate instincts of a Warden were alerting her to the fact that they were vastly outnumbered indeed, and she knew she at least probably wouldn't last long. The Darkspawn even had a few casters of their own, and Asmara grimaced, casting an Arcane Shield first over Ser Le-Guy, then Antius, and finally herself. "Please, be careful," she implored of them, though her words were scarcely louder than a whisper, and she had no way to know if she was heard.