The First Blight: Curse of Dumat [RP/Closed]

[Rosen2012]

Ulrin watched the mage as he gave his speech. At the start he was disgusted. Service. Fighting. When he was taken form the prison cells he was told the fate he would be receiving was imminent death. Not a dragged out sentence fighting a war against Darkspawn. However as he ended his speech the elven criminal felt relieved. It was still an option to die.

He stepped forward past the worried eleven girl; his head still held as he spoke up at the end of Trajan's speech.

"I have no intention of serving you. Or fighting against these Darkspawn. You may as well, be done with me now."

 

[Cinnonym]

Trajan's promises were news to Thaedrin. 'Freedom...' He cast a nervous glance around the mob. The slaves seemed to have recovered some of their energy, at least enough to murmur amongst themselves. Somewhere behind him, the barbarian woman was still weeping. 'Falsehood. A lie to placate them. What is the point, they are already so weak.' His eyes lifted to the balustrade, considering the man above for a moment. ?At the end of the day, you wanted Wardens. Those who have lived a life of servitude ought be well-suited to it.?

The elf from before, the one who had nearly been lying on the ground for lack of will, stepped forward to announce his resignation from the earth. His stomach twisted with loathing.

"Who else desires the peace of death? ...Who else among you has lost their worth?" Most of the slaves fell silent. Surely a chance of life was better than none at all, surely they had not walked all this way for nothing. Apprehension rippled through the crowd, and a few did emerge to form around the elven man. Broken things, all.

Thaedrin turned, casting his glance over Delphina and her scout nearby, "You may as well begin disposing of the elderly. Those who wish to die may follow me to the chapel."

He stalked down the corridor with purpose, his Wardens bringing up the rear of the line of elves and humans who had given up on living through the Blight. The brigand mother without her babe, the red-headed elven criminal. Cowards. How the Commander had dared to offer these worthless creatures what the Wardens themselves had lost, he could not comprehend it. He would not accept it.

The Constable stood beside the doorframe as the lot was led into the chapel; built of the same white marble, it held a simple altar placed before a carving of the old gods in slumber. Thaedrin doubted it had ever been used for prayer, but it was secluded and it was quiet. A good place to die, if that would turn out to be the case for these slaves. He peeled away his gloves and tucked them into his belt, his palms lined with the red of half-healed scars.

?Bring me the goblet.?

?Ser??

?Bring it filled and ready,? he drew an ornate dagger from its sheath at his waist and laid it across his left hand, ?I will not waste a healthy body, be there any here.?

 

[ShadowFolk]

So ready to have their lives taken away. Their suffering must have been beyond what Sulahn'nehn could grasp or perhaps they knew something she didn't. She was surprised to see that the shaggy looking elf who had cautioned her earlier was among the ones who wished to be run through. If she spoke out again, she could very well be forced to go along with them or be made an example. Instead, she silently hoped that the men were true to their word and would give these poor people a quick, painless end.

 

[duckflesh]

When the elf stepped forward and declared his intent to die, Alrik reached for the greataxe strapped to his back. Trajan signaled him to stop when Thaedrin began to speak.

"Interesting," Trajan murmured. "Let's see what he has planned. If I don't end up liking it, nothing of value will be lost, and I can always make him clean the stables as penance."

Delphina winced at Thaedrin's choice of the word "disposing", but did turn back to her work; once the young and elderly were fed, she'd let them rest. In the morning they would begin their lives anew as slaves, albeit hopefully under better conditions than before. She began ushering the final batch into the hall.

"I can handle this," she told Diocles. "Perhaps see if Constable Thaedrin requires help."

 

[FortyThree]

Constable Thaedrin requires nothing short of a kick in the trousers.

Diocles hesitated for a split second, then nodded to the Senior Warden. The archer threw his bow over his shoulder and marched sharply after his most hated comrade, broad shoulders and a determined stride keeping the slaves out of his way. He kept his composure, for the most part, throwing in a sharp military salute as he stomped to attention near the hemophilic arcanist.

"At your disposal, Constable."

 

[Rosen2012]

Ulrin did not feel his death would be so simple by the orders the Constable was issuing. The mage had assured them a quick death if they would not serve loyal. And yet now there was talk of a goblet. Perhaps it was a poison? To perish the same way as Twynne in away put a smile on his face. Whatever it was, he would drink it.If it meant freedom from this place and the burden of his guilt he would drink it.

'But if it is a lie... Should I let another drink first, to ensure they plan to kill us? And that this is not some spell...?'

 

[Cinnonym]

"Komnenos," Thaedrin's voice betrayed his distaste, "Good. My men will bar the door, and you can continue to be of no use whatsoever."

Soon, one of the Wardens under his command returned with a stone goblet; it was heavy in his hand, immense, and the liquid within was a viscous black substance, shining red in the light of the sconces. Only six months in service, and it already seemed a relic. Thaedrin reviewed the contents, nodded, and placed it on the altar before the slaves. His bare fingers flexed around the handle of his dagger.

"You wish to die so badly? Drink."

There was a stunned silence among the walking corpses, but the first to step up to the task was the brigand woman. Her hands trembled as they lifted the goblet to her lips. She gagged, but clapped a palm over her mouth to keep herself from vomiting.

The screaming that came next was something very familiar to the Constable.

 

[FortyThree]

Diocles rolled his eyes, slouching out of attention with obvious contempt. He was quite fond of Delphina, but every time she ordered him to accompany this leech, he was tempted to slap her. He frowned, watching the Joining commence. Komnenos was no honorable warrior, but the methods of this witch were absolutely despicable. Still.. There was no point in speaking out, and no price too high to defeat the monstrous darkspawn.

Steel yourself, bowman. This is the first of many, many deaths today. Do not draw the string unnocked.

 

[ShadowFolk]

Sulahn'nehn jumped in fright. Screaming. It was muffled by the door, but she knew what she had heard. The sound brought back memories she'd hoped she could forget. What had they done, what was behind that door. This was not the death that was promised to that lot. If the humans lied about that, they could be lying about the joining too. She pressed her palms to her ears. She began to wonder how many of them would be standing come the morning.

May it be quick for me. May it be quick.

 

[Rosen2012]

Ulrin watched the woman sip from the goblet. Part of him wondered if she would never really see her child again. Surly a babe that young would die without their. But then he remembered, when was it last the Twynne and he saw their parents? Could even recall their faces? Were the not just shadows with names to him now? They were better off apart, dying than living never knowing one another.

Watching her scream and crumble to the floor only raised his concerns. Her howls of pain made this end seem like it was anything but what he had requested.

"That does not look like a quick death to me," he scowled looking at the goblet being offered to them. "Why not just run us through and be done with it! What kind of place is this, that you keep murderous criminals alive for so long? Put us to death. Put her to death!"

 

[Cinnonym]

The others gathered in the room refused the goblet as well, shouting curses. For what little will they had left inside them to live, they did not want to suffer. The dagger kissed Thaedrin's palm and blood burst from the wound in an arc, too much, and too forcefully. The magic hit the outspoken slave hard, pressing down like some great weight on his body and mind, controlling muscle and suppressing thought.

"I said to drink," Thaedrin said, to all of them that were gathered, their stubborn refusal replaced with horror. The cup began to pass again, through reluctant fingers, until it was once again outstretched to Ulrin.

 

[Rosen2012]

The elven criminal cursed him and his magic as the goblet was passed to him. "B-bastards. Lying, disgusting humans!" Even when the brim of the cup came to his lips. Ulrin still protested. He tried to will himself to choke, to force his tongue to gag on the dark fluid.

As he felt it trickle down his throat, he did start to choke, but not from suffocation. But form the horrible taste and the prickling pain that started in his throat and followed the liquid down to his core. The elf grabbed at his throat coughing and stumbling. Perhaps he really would die, if only from the pain. His eyes tried to stay set on Thaedrin as he started to lose his focus. Ulrin attempted to reach out, thinking perhaps if he grabbed at the blood mage, he'd be attacked in defense. But he could barely mange to do much more than shuffle forward before falling over and to gag and cry in agony before the pain overwhelmed his senses and his consciousness.

 

[Cinnonym]

Thaedrin released his spell, taking a slow breath to stabilize himself before he stepped over the bodies of the suffering to join his comrades at the door once more. There was little need to supervise the dying, but in the event that some survived, he ordered his men to remain behind. To Komnenos, he gave no instruction. He walked past him into the corridor, and returned to the Great Hall.

When he returned, he saw the slaves were stirring. It seemed there was only a third of their original number remaining, now that the ineligible had been filtered out. He could hear the wailing of his own victims down the hall... Order needed to be restored.

"Those that are left will be given the opportunity to ser--"

The doors burst open, and snow swept inside with the wind. Two Wardens appeared to be wrestling with a creature between them, thrashing and snarling. It took Thaedrin a moment to realize, it was a human being.

?Get off!? The voice was female, but harsh and guttural, ?Get! Off!? The woman stomped down onto one man?s foot and jerked her arm free of his grip; the second got an elbow to the chest and again to the nose. One soldier came to the aid of his fellows, whipping up the butt of his spear to catch the woman across the jaw. She paused, turning her head back towards him slowly before ripping the weapon from him and snapping it over her knee.

She was covered in blue and white, her hair a nest of knots and twigs that hung down around her shoulders. Her chest was bare but for the paint that was cracking and peeling away from her skin like bark from a tree, and the only clothing she wore was a torn piece of cloth knotted around her hips. She was a giant of a woman, a head taller than the Warden in front of her.

Thaedrin could have blended in with the slaves just then, his expression mirroring the shock on their faces as the woman stalked forward toward the frightened soldier, waving the pointy metal bit of the polearm at him like a mother scolding a child.

?I will shove this between your ribs. Yes??

 

[FortyThree]

Diocles had no inclination to follow Thaedrin, instead intending to stay to wait and see if any of the slaves would awake-But the commotion changed his mind quickly. He whipped an arrow from the quiver at his side, nocking it to the bow as he twirled round the doorframe, quickly surveying the situation and drawing a bead on the giantess. His blood up, he dispensed with all humor, shouting a response to the barbarian's rhetorical question.

"No! Hold! Stay your hand or I will pierce it."

He swallowed slowly. the woman was enormous, and clearly powerful.. but even with legs her size, he doubted she could reach him before he put an arrow or two in her.

 

[ShadowFolk]

Had she not had her chest bare, Sulahn'nehn would have believed the person making short work of the Wardens wasn't a woman at all. She could scarcely believe it was not a Darkspawn. She looked as if she crawled from the same hole as the creatures did. That could not have been hair on her head, surely it was a shrubbery or a moss that had overgrown.

The barbaric woman could not have come at a worse time. She would be trouble and the Wardens would have to deal with her first before tending to the remainder of the slaves and captives. Just that much longer in the unknown. She wanted to tell the newcomer not to struggle, but it did seem more like the men struggled with her than the other way around. As long as they did not manage to carry her off to that other room, she'd had enough of the screaming to give her quite a few nightmares.

 

[duckflesh]

Trajan had just debriefed a guard on the events of the chapel. "Put the survivors in a cell; we'll see whose side they're on when they wake up. As for the corpses, pile them in a heap somewhere out of sight. We need to ready the chapel for the rest of the initiates."

A number of junior Wardens snapped to it, and Trajan was moving forward to address the crowd again when Ghil showed up. Trajan's eyes widened in distress.

The barbarian immediately showed herself to be good material for a Warden, but there was still a high chance that the joining would end her--to Trajan the idea that she might kill one of his initiated Wardens was totally unacceptable. He saw Diocles preparing to fire and nodded with grim approval. Meanwhile, Alric headed down the stairs and began pushing slowly through the slaves, a head taller than most of them.

"Give her room, men!" Trajan called down, and then addressed the woman. "I'm sure you have a dirt farm you wish to go back to, replete with slavering hounds and filthy children. But that option is closed to you now. Palaver with me. You must accept your new situation. You can fight by our side, cover yourself with glory. Or you can be put down like an honorless dog here and now."

 

[Cinnonym]

The archer gave Ghil pause; when he called out his threat, she turned her attention to him with a measured gaze. She had no shield to feather with arrows. Next came the bellow of the man above, which drew a noncommittal shrug from the woman. Words like "replete" and "palaver" were beyond her Tevene vocabulary.

"Tevinters like big words, but they do not use the eyes for seeing." She waved the spear tip in her hand again, and then tossed it carelessly over her shoulder. "If I wanted men dead, they would be. Tell this skinny man to put his arrow down, or I will find a better place for it."

One of the Wardens below spoke, the same one holding his bleeding nose as though it might fall off his face otherwise, "Commander. Magister Tytian sent her as a gift--" Ghil spat upon the marble floor to show what she thought of that, "--She was his gladiator in Minrathous."

The woman shifted her weight to her other foot, seeming amused by the slaves gathered in front of her, "Where is this glory I shall cover myself in, there are only twigs and chambermaids here."

 

[FortyThree]

The skinny man relaxed his draw, and lowered his bow, and though he did not un-nock his arrow, he pointed it to the ground. Moving slowly, he drew himself up from his combat stance into his (not nearly so impressive) full height. He eyed the woman up and down, his eyes settling on her breasts. He stared for a moment as if looking at a riddle, then a moment longer. Breathing pensively, he raised his eyes to her and opened his mouth as if to speak, then, as if thinking better of it, returned his gaze to her chest. Another moment passed, and nodding in resolve, he once more looked up to the woman and addressed her again, his tone indicating he was perhaps admiring the quality of his grandmother's knitting.

"You're a woman."

 

[ShadowFolk]

The barbarian wasn't wrong. The great hall was filled with what was left of the weakened slaves. If they sought a fierce warrior, she stood before them all. Still, she could not fool herself into thinking that her prayers were answered. They would not free the slaves for one woman, no matter how capable she seemed. She would join the rest of them, awaiting the Joining they 'chose' to participate in.

 

[Cinnonym]

Ghil was surprised by the archer's outburst for only a moment before her ire raised. Her expression went from smug to vicious when she looked back towards the battlements accusingly. "Am I to be mocked further!?"

As Alrik was advancing, Thaedrin was quickly retreating.