Dragon Age: Broodmother (Chapter 1)

Nora loomed before the gaping cavern, her eyes straining into the unwavering darkness. The rust-red plains of  the Anderfels waited silently behind, only offering the occasional wind-whipped hiss of warning. No noise escaped the black beyond of the cave’s mouth, but the dark blood pooling around her long shadow was evidence enough. This was their incursion point. This was where the monsters met the orange light of her country. Darkspawn. Even now, as she wiped the corrupted blood from her blade, she could feel their presence writhing below.

“Captain.” The deep tenor of Broderick’s voice preceded his armored gait as the fellow Warden joined Nora. “Is this the place?” Broderick was a behemoth of a man. Broad shoulders and thick arms wielded his warhammer with all the finesse of a Qunari, but he had some cunning, for one so brutish in battle. Nora offered him little more than an aloof glance in his direction before fixing her eyes upon the restless dark. In silent answer she lifted her chin as if to balance some invisible thing on the tip of her nose. Cold countenance masked the sweat that wreathed her brow. The Deep Roads were always a dangerous place, and one wrong step could stir up hundreds of darkspawn in mere moments. Broderick’s brow dropped as he lifted the ornamented hammer in both gauntleted hands. “Right then.”

As her leather boot crossed the threshold into the blackness, Nora forced down the lump in her throat with a hard swallow. It was all she could do to control her breathing. As her fears threatened to consume her in the near perfect darkness, she struck alight her torch, remembering their purpose. A small farming village not a day’s journey from the cave had been razed to the ground. Only a small number of the villagers’ bodies were discovered. The captain’s rangers had discovered a large number of tracks leading to and from the cave, but the tracks returning were in far greater number, and contained more than just darkspawn.

“You really think they took prisoners?” Broderick’s heavy footfalls clacked across the cloistered tunnel. Although she could not sense any darkspawn waiting in ambush, the constant presence of their massive underground forces weighed heavy on Nora’s mind and she did not answer her companion. “Shouldn’t we have brought more men?” At last his words reached her ears, and Nora halted, almost causing the wary warrior to crash into the captain’s back. Wheeling about on one heel, the smaller woman looked up to the towering man.

“You’re all the man we need, Brod. Keep your wits about you, we are here for scouting and that is all.” Broderick could only respond with a meek nod. She flashed him a wicked grin before spinning back front to continue her trek into the depths. Nora was aware of the predominantly male population among the Grey Wardens, but she was not about to let her comrade’s generalized comment slip. The man needed to be kept in line.

A low groan rose from the tunnel, and Nora immediately snapped from her ponderings on equality. Her free hand shot toward the ceiling, and the armored warrior froze in his tracks. The groan droned to silence again, and she lowered her arm after it faded. “Stay sharp.”

“Right. Never know when those nasty little--” His sentence was left incomplete as the stone floor beneath his feet collapsed. The cracking rock caused Nora to whirl about and rush to the newly formed ledge.

“Broderick!” She cried into the dark hole, her words clinging to stone as they echoed down the tunnel, but upon holding her torch above the gap, soon realized it only fell about twice the man’s braggable height. A sigh of relief slipped from her lips and she peered over the warrior’s grey armor. “Are you wounded?”

“Ngh...” The man pushed a small pile of rubble from atop his chest and set himself upright. “Just a battered pride.” Broderick’s hands groped around for his warhammer, and upon grasping its haft, he pushed himself to his feet.

“Good. I’d hate to have lost you so soon.” The torchlight danced across her impish smirk. “It would be terribly embarrassing for your legend.” She flicked out her tongue and watched him gaze around the lower level of the cavern.

“You’re a regular jester, captain.” After scanning the dim room, he peered up to the roguish woman. “Have any extra torches?” Nora nodded and after fumbling through her pack she held the unmarred rod to its burning cousin. Without delay she stretched out her arm and dropped it down the shaft. Broderick deftly caught the falling lightsource, but winced away as its embers lashed out at his spaulder. “Easy now.”

“Perhaps if you hadn’t eaten so much supper last night you’d still be up here, mm?” Nora hissed a playful laugh and rose to her feet, peering once more into the hole. However, her comrade was now nowhere in sight. “Brod?” No reply. She leaned lower, teetering dangerously over the edge. “Broderick!” The anxiety rolled up and out of her throat with the second call, and at last the warrior stepped into view.

“Stop shouting! Do you want the entire Blight to find us?” He hissed softly up through the dank air and she could see his scowl in the low orange light.

“Yes, yes. Let’s take advantage of your predicament, mm? We can cover more ground this way.” Nora gestured down her own tunnel, waving the torch out before her. As the pale light washed over the length of the tunnel, she looked down again. Broderick was once again gone. “Ass.” Nora rolled her eyes and continued down the tunnel. The cool, clammy air, though still humid, was a relief from the relentless sun over the fields of the Anderfels.

In such a small space, judging one’s own relation to the world around becomes limited, but as her boots carried her forward, Nora could not help but notice she was gradually descending. Not long into the unquiet journey alone, the rogue stopped upon a pair of enormous, carved doors. Her gloved hand stroked the stone and she offered herself a confirming nod. Dwarven. The Deep Roads now lay ahead and she would have to be absolutely careful not to stir up any darkspawn.

These roads were once the mighty trade routes of the Dwarven kingdoms, but as the Blights began, the stout warriors were unable to stymie the nigh endless tides of monsters. Soon after the last dwarven cities sealed up their passageways, the darkspawn found their way to the surface and the real Blight began. Three times the armies of darkspawn spread like a disease across Thedas, and three times they had been struck down by the only hope the mortal races had: the Grey Wardens. Eight years ago the fourth began, and with its dawning Nora abandoned her life as a highwayman. What was the value of gold if everyone was dead? Putting her talents with swords to a more purposeful career, Nora’s cunning and unwavering tenacity saw her quickly rise to the rank of captain among the Wardens. She was still fairly young, but her experience on the road taught her all she needed for combat.

But darkspawn were so very different from guards or even soldiers. They did not fear death, knew no remorse, and fought in unbelievable numbers. Down here they had hundreds. Down here she could feel it closing in. Fear buzzed in her ears as if a hundred flies sat trapped inside her head. They drew close, and it was only a matter of time until they found her. But Nora specialized in fighting multiple opponents. Nora felt at home in the dark of night. And while this may have offered her comfort in the past, she was not standing under a cloudy evening sky. Her sky now was shaped out of rock, the darkness tangible. Again she felt the sweat rising to the surface, lining her collar. Although leather armor made for better agility, it clung to her like a needy child and she found it difficult to focus. Her free hand reached up and dragged across her brow. Had it been this warm before? And then she heard it.

The whistle of a loosed arrow flew past her cheek, so close as to displace her hair with the wind. Before the torch thudded to the floor, the ring of twin steel blades taunted along the halls. Their pale, curved blades grinned forth, beckoning the foe to show itself. Her invitation was met, though she had not anticipated the party’s size. At least a half dozen hurlocks and genlocks poured out of the walls and she found herself quickly surrounded in the high-ceilinged Dwarven tunnel. Melee would prove easy enough, she hoped, but the marksman was skilled. Following the sound of tensed string, Nora caught a glimpse of the stubby genlock archer at the rear. His fanged maw stretched wide in a vicious grin as he let fly his second, black arrow. Nora side-stepped and the bolt flew wide. However, the darkspawn did not sit idly, and bellowed loudly before converging.

A bulky hurlock charged from her left, and with a shuffle of her feet and two majestic arcs of her twin scimitars, the beast’s sword arm fell from its shoulder, and its head toppled to the stone floor. Blood stink filled the air, and it sent the others into a frenzy. They howled louder and dashed toward the captain. Leaping forward, she parried one of their swings, deflecting it aside without breaking pace. Her boots slid and spun as she wove between the oncoming brutes like the wind through silken sheets. Another stubby genlock hobbled toward her, and Nora simply planted her boot atop its head before stomping the stout monster into the rock. In mere seconds she had closed the gap between her torch and the archer. One scimitar raised high, arcing down toward the panicked marksman, but his fear suddenly flashed to a toothy grin.

Before her blade could cleave the blighted creature in twain, an unseen hurlock barged out of the shadows, knocking the captain away midair. The brunt of the blow immediately disarmed her, and as she collided with the unbiased stone, her blades slid aside, far from reach. Air refused to fill her lungs, and the trauma of the crash left Nora clutching her sides. She was certain nothing was broken, but her vision blurred. What a pitiful way to die: alone in the Deep Roads. And not even at her Calling yet.

“Eat this, beasties!” Nora’s haze was pierced by a bellowing tenor and upon turning her head, she witnessed a genlock rocket sidelong into a stone column, slumping to the floor in a battered heap. Typical. He always showed up at the last moment. What a glory hound. “You catching a quick nap, Captain?”

“Shut up and fight, Brod.” Nora scrambled to seize her scimitars as the crowd of darkspawn were distracted, but just as quickly as her hopes ignited they were snuffed out. Before her hand could take hold of the sword’s hilt, a hurlock stomped its boot upon the blade, pinning it to the floor. The creature’s pale, lifeless eyes glared down at the woman and after barking a wicked cackle, it introduced the other boot to her head. Darkness swallowed her sight and the underground spun...