It was uncanny.
Nostariel could sense Darkspawnâit was, after all, the Deep Roadsâbut none of them were close enough to even register as individuals, and no parts of the roiling mass of them seemed to be getting any closer. And yet⊠there was a rare sense of foreboding down here. She had not felt this way in a very long time, and she supposed it must be the memories. She hadnât even been into the Roads since she had guided the Expedition, and those had been entirely different tunnels than these. It made sense on some level that she should hate this area more than the others, because the last time sheâd been in it, sheâd lost all nine of her squadmates, some of them her dear friends. All of them had taught her something, and all of them had meant more to her than perhaps they should have. Her own commander had oftentimes accused her of being too soft for the life she led.
Pursing her lips, she kept her bow in one hand, the other free and primed to reach for her quiver if necessary. It was a little strange, that this had become her instinct now, rather than to instinctively go for her staff or her magic. The former, she hardly carried anymore, but to the clinic. The latter was still her primary strength, obviously, but no longer was it her only recourse. The thought reassured herâeven if she simply ran out of magic, as she had on that day five years ago⊠she was not helpless. Not anymore. Maybe theyâd even be proud of her for that.
Her steps were light as she could make them, but she had not her partnerâs skill in stealth and subterfuge. Fortunately, there wasnât much to worry about in the Deep Roads but Darkspawn. What else would want to be here? Even raving lunatics were not so desperate, nor demons. She figured it was safe enough to speak, given the fact that nothing seemed to be coming for them. âIâm not sure theyâll even run into any,â she murmured thoughtfully. âWe may not, eitherânothing approaches.â
Nostariel didnât properly understand it, but she wasnât going to question it. If it changed, she would know, and for now, she only needed to keep moving forward, though admittedly that was closer to the Darkspawn in question. She might have said something else, but then a glimmer of steel caught her eye, and she cast a small light to better see it. There, wedged in between an outcropping of rock and the wall of the cavern, was a rusted roundshield. She might not have thought anything of it, save that she could just make out a hint of blue inlay on its face. Hastening to the spot, she tried to lift the shield, only to find it firmly lodged in place. Looking back over her shoulder, she locked eyes with Ash. âCould you help me with this? I think I recognize itâŠâ
Without any questions, Ashton quivered his arrow and looped his shoulder through the bow. With a subtle hiss of steel, Ashton's machete stood in his hand instead. He slipped the blade between the outcrop and the wall, right next to the shield, and spoke, "We'll pull on three," He said, as he set his feet beneath him. The count came quick and on three, pulled on his machete hard. He could feel the metal bend with the force, but so could he feel the rocks shift, and just like that, the shield popped free, though not without a bit of sound. He cautiously threw glances around them, even though he knew Nostariel could feel if the Darkspawn were creeping behind him. It wasn't so easy to quell years of instinct in a moment.
In the end, his eyes went back to the shield. He asked, "Did you know it's owner?" He asked in a rare bit of solemnity.
She turned the shield around in her hands so that the face of it was upwards, and brushed a hand over the disc. The metal had once been valuable, high-quality silverite from dwarven mines, its owner had informed her with pride. The real mastery in it, though, was the fact that some of the metal had been colored to a deep blue, twining with the silver to frame the device of a lioness rampaging. It was similar but not identical to the Wardensâ griffin, and it was in Warden colors. She smiled slightly, recalling a multitude of blond braids and a gap-toothed, half-cocked grin. âYou would have liked Rudna,â she said by way of reply. âAnd she you, I think. She was from Orzammar, smith caste. She made her own equipment, just the way she liked it, and she made sure to maintain everyone elseâs, too. She even learned to work ironbark, though she never did quit complaining about it.â
Surprisingly, the leather strap that had held the shield onto the wielderâs arm was still intact, and Nostariel used these to sling the thing over her back. It was a bit heavier than she was used to, but she wasnât just going to leave it there. âIf you see anything else that doesnât seem to belong, please let me know. I know it doesnât make much of a difference, but Iâd like to salvage their things, if I could.â There would be nothing else to mark their graves, after all. Sheâd burned the bodies on her way out, to prevent them from being twisted by the Darkspawnâs foul purposes, fed on or worse.
With the request, Ashton nodded and switched weapons again. He dialed up his eyes, making sure to not let a thing escape them. It was the least he could do, out of the two of them he could say that his eyes were the keener of the two pairs. Hers were getting there, but lacked the years his possessed. He followed as she led further down the Deep Roads. For the hunter who was more comfortable in the forests above, the Deep Roads were like dreary maze. He never forgotten the stint he'd spent under ground during the expedition, and here he felt the same oppressive atmosphere and claustrophobia he'd felt then. But just like then, he kept himself on a tight leash with a sharp mind.
It was thanks to that sharp mind that he'd managed to catch something she'd missed. "Hold on a moment," He called, his eyes plastered to the ground. He shouldered his bow for the second time and took a knee, reaching down to the ground. He swiped away a layer of surface dirt and picked up what seemed to be a set of ironwood beads. He turned them over in his hands, knocking away what lingering dirt he could before presenting them to her. "These looked like they belonged to an elf?" He said, the tone on the last word turning the statement into a question.
Sheâd not expected to see them. Actually, she was rather surprised they hadnât been burned with his corpse. Heâd certainly never been the sort to part with them willingly. âLleyrn,â she supplied. âLleyrn Nal. He was Dalishâthese were his motherâs. The Darkspawn got her when he was still young. It was the reason he became a Warden.â Heâd had one of those thousand-yard stares, like something ancient was just looking right through you when you happened to meet his eyes. Nostariel worried the beads between her fingers for a moment, before placing them in a pocket. âThe Wardens donât get many volunteers⊠and we rarely turn them away when we do.â That she was a willing volunteer and a mage was probably the only reason theyâd even taken herâit had been Tristan that they wanted.
Shaking her head slightly, she sighed and they continued forward. Ashtonâs eyes managed to pick out a sheathed knife, no more than a boot-dagger but the curve to it and the ivory handle marked it as belonging to Shella, the member of Notarielâs squad that had liked her the least. Perhaps because she felt the captaincy had been hers by rightâshe was lieutenant when the previous one died. But sheâd still gotten in the way of that Hurlock arrow, and entirely on purpose. Nostariel also found the ring of a small cask, which actually produced a soft chuckle. There was no guarantee that it belonged to Irvin, but the guess was a fair one. That man could have out-drunk Rudna, and actually had on a few occasions. Human or not, the smith had always been fond of him, calling him âdwarf-hearted.â She assumed it wasnât just the alcohol tolerance.
Glad as she was to have the tokens in her possession, she could not shake the unease that grew as they continued down the path. Something was ahead, and it was foreboding. She could feel the Darkspawn as individuals, now, but still they drew no nearer. There were a lot, but the worst part was that one felt⊠different from the rest, in a way she could not explain. All Darkspawn were twisted, but this⊠she swallowed. They were headed straight for it, whatever it was. Stowing the cask ring, Nostariel drew an arrow. âThereâs something ahead,â she told Ashton. âSomething⊠big, I think, and⊠worse, than the others.â She had no concrete way to explain it other than that.
Ashton strained his neck as he tried to peer down the tunnel, but despite his efforts, he couldn't simply make the rock walls bleed away and reveal what sat behind them. Considering he was the hunter, and perhaps the only other person who could match him in the art of stealth took the other route, he offered his services. "I'll go ahead and check it out-- you stay here," He said, eyes looking between her and the path ahead. "They can sense you, but won't see me coming," He added with smile. As he usually did, he took an arrow and nocked it to his bow with a wink.
"I'll be right back," He promised, and slipped off down the tunnel. No sound came from his worn leather boots, and he made sure to keep to the shadows when all possible. He was as quick about it as he could be and before long he came to an opening in the tunnel. From what he could tell, the opening led into a larger area. He sidled up to the entrance, his back pushed hard against the rock next to the opening. He took a quick breath and poked his head out. Whatever he expected, it wasn't this. Blood drained from his face as he turned as white as a sheet. No thoughts came to his mind, nor did words but two.
"Oh shit."
Nostariel could sense Darkspawnâit was, after all, the Deep Roadsâbut none of them were close enough to even register as individuals, and no parts of the roiling mass of them seemed to be getting any closer. And yet⊠there was a rare sense of foreboding down here. She had not felt this way in a very long time, and she supposed it must be the memories. She hadnât even been into the Roads since she had guided the Expedition, and those had been entirely different tunnels than these. It made sense on some level that she should hate this area more than the others, because the last time sheâd been in it, sheâd lost all nine of her squadmates, some of them her dear friends. All of them had taught her something, and all of them had meant more to her than perhaps they should have. Her own commander had oftentimes accused her of being too soft for the life she led.
Pursing her lips, she kept her bow in one hand, the other free and primed to reach for her quiver if necessary. It was a little strange, that this had become her instinct now, rather than to instinctively go for her staff or her magic. The former, she hardly carried anymore, but to the clinic. The latter was still her primary strength, obviously, but no longer was it her only recourse. The thought reassured herâeven if she simply ran out of magic, as she had on that day five years ago⊠she was not helpless. Not anymore. Maybe theyâd even be proud of her for that.
Her steps were light as she could make them, but she had not her partnerâs skill in stealth and subterfuge. Fortunately, there wasnât much to worry about in the Deep Roads but Darkspawn. What else would want to be here? Even raving lunatics were not so desperate, nor demons. She figured it was safe enough to speak, given the fact that nothing seemed to be coming for them. âIâm not sure theyâll even run into any,â she murmured thoughtfully. âWe may not, eitherânothing approaches.â
Nostariel didnât properly understand it, but she wasnât going to question it. If it changed, she would know, and for now, she only needed to keep moving forward, though admittedly that was closer to the Darkspawn in question. She might have said something else, but then a glimmer of steel caught her eye, and she cast a small light to better see it. There, wedged in between an outcropping of rock and the wall of the cavern, was a rusted roundshield. She might not have thought anything of it, save that she could just make out a hint of blue inlay on its face. Hastening to the spot, she tried to lift the shield, only to find it firmly lodged in place. Looking back over her shoulder, she locked eyes with Ash. âCould you help me with this? I think I recognize itâŠâ
Without any questions, Ashton quivered his arrow and looped his shoulder through the bow. With a subtle hiss of steel, Ashton's machete stood in his hand instead. He slipped the blade between the outcrop and the wall, right next to the shield, and spoke, "We'll pull on three," He said, as he set his feet beneath him. The count came quick and on three, pulled on his machete hard. He could feel the metal bend with the force, but so could he feel the rocks shift, and just like that, the shield popped free, though not without a bit of sound. He cautiously threw glances around them, even though he knew Nostariel could feel if the Darkspawn were creeping behind him. It wasn't so easy to quell years of instinct in a moment.
In the end, his eyes went back to the shield. He asked, "Did you know it's owner?" He asked in a rare bit of solemnity.
She turned the shield around in her hands so that the face of it was upwards, and brushed a hand over the disc. The metal had once been valuable, high-quality silverite from dwarven mines, its owner had informed her with pride. The real mastery in it, though, was the fact that some of the metal had been colored to a deep blue, twining with the silver to frame the device of a lioness rampaging. It was similar but not identical to the Wardensâ griffin, and it was in Warden colors. She smiled slightly, recalling a multitude of blond braids and a gap-toothed, half-cocked grin. âYou would have liked Rudna,â she said by way of reply. âAnd she you, I think. She was from Orzammar, smith caste. She made her own equipment, just the way she liked it, and she made sure to maintain everyone elseâs, too. She even learned to work ironbark, though she never did quit complaining about it.â
Surprisingly, the leather strap that had held the shield onto the wielderâs arm was still intact, and Nostariel used these to sling the thing over her back. It was a bit heavier than she was used to, but she wasnât just going to leave it there. âIf you see anything else that doesnât seem to belong, please let me know. I know it doesnât make much of a difference, but Iâd like to salvage their things, if I could.â There would be nothing else to mark their graves, after all. Sheâd burned the bodies on her way out, to prevent them from being twisted by the Darkspawnâs foul purposes, fed on or worse.
With the request, Ashton nodded and switched weapons again. He dialed up his eyes, making sure to not let a thing escape them. It was the least he could do, out of the two of them he could say that his eyes were the keener of the two pairs. Hers were getting there, but lacked the years his possessed. He followed as she led further down the Deep Roads. For the hunter who was more comfortable in the forests above, the Deep Roads were like dreary maze. He never forgotten the stint he'd spent under ground during the expedition, and here he felt the same oppressive atmosphere and claustrophobia he'd felt then. But just like then, he kept himself on a tight leash with a sharp mind.
It was thanks to that sharp mind that he'd managed to catch something she'd missed. "Hold on a moment," He called, his eyes plastered to the ground. He shouldered his bow for the second time and took a knee, reaching down to the ground. He swiped away a layer of surface dirt and picked up what seemed to be a set of ironwood beads. He turned them over in his hands, knocking away what lingering dirt he could before presenting them to her. "These looked like they belonged to an elf?" He said, the tone on the last word turning the statement into a question.
Sheâd not expected to see them. Actually, she was rather surprised they hadnât been burned with his corpse. Heâd certainly never been the sort to part with them willingly. âLleyrn,â she supplied. âLleyrn Nal. He was Dalishâthese were his motherâs. The Darkspawn got her when he was still young. It was the reason he became a Warden.â Heâd had one of those thousand-yard stares, like something ancient was just looking right through you when you happened to meet his eyes. Nostariel worried the beads between her fingers for a moment, before placing them in a pocket. âThe Wardens donât get many volunteers⊠and we rarely turn them away when we do.â That she was a willing volunteer and a mage was probably the only reason theyâd even taken herâit had been Tristan that they wanted.
Shaking her head slightly, she sighed and they continued forward. Ashtonâs eyes managed to pick out a sheathed knife, no more than a boot-dagger but the curve to it and the ivory handle marked it as belonging to Shella, the member of Notarielâs squad that had liked her the least. Perhaps because she felt the captaincy had been hers by rightâshe was lieutenant when the previous one died. But sheâd still gotten in the way of that Hurlock arrow, and entirely on purpose. Nostariel also found the ring of a small cask, which actually produced a soft chuckle. There was no guarantee that it belonged to Irvin, but the guess was a fair one. That man could have out-drunk Rudna, and actually had on a few occasions. Human or not, the smith had always been fond of him, calling him âdwarf-hearted.â She assumed it wasnât just the alcohol tolerance.
Glad as she was to have the tokens in her possession, she could not shake the unease that grew as they continued down the path. Something was ahead, and it was foreboding. She could feel the Darkspawn as individuals, now, but still they drew no nearer. There were a lot, but the worst part was that one felt⊠different from the rest, in a way she could not explain. All Darkspawn were twisted, but this⊠she swallowed. They were headed straight for it, whatever it was. Stowing the cask ring, Nostariel drew an arrow. âThereâs something ahead,â she told Ashton. âSomething⊠big, I think, and⊠worse, than the others.â She had no concrete way to explain it other than that.
Ashton strained his neck as he tried to peer down the tunnel, but despite his efforts, he couldn't simply make the rock walls bleed away and reveal what sat behind them. Considering he was the hunter, and perhaps the only other person who could match him in the art of stealth took the other route, he offered his services. "I'll go ahead and check it out-- you stay here," He said, eyes looking between her and the path ahead. "They can sense you, but won't see me coming," He added with smile. As he usually did, he took an arrow and nocked it to his bow with a wink.
"I'll be right back," He promised, and slipped off down the tunnel. No sound came from his worn leather boots, and he made sure to keep to the shadows when all possible. He was as quick about it as he could be and before long he came to an opening in the tunnel. From what he could tell, the opening led into a larger area. He sidled up to the entrance, his back pushed hard against the rock next to the opening. He took a quick breath and poked his head out. Whatever he expected, it wasn't this. Blood drained from his face as he turned as white as a sheet. No thoughts came to his mind, nor did words but two.
"Oh shit."