Thread: dragon age ⋮⋮ ◜ohm and rivine◞

From her haunt Meraad observed the battle through her trained eyes. She knew of ogres and their makings - they were the children of tainted kossith that were abducted and made broodmothers by the darkspawn. Though she was human, she lamented the female kossith had her sympathy she was about to slaughter their children. One of the beasts lumbered forward with several arrows distended from its chest cavity, clutching an avaraad as if he were a weightless sack of flour. The orge sniffed him then howled, casting spittle and saliva all over the soldier. The stench from their exhale cloyed the entire grotto. It was a foul, intrusive odor reminiscent of fetid, rotting flesh, sulfur and shit. It was the qunari's last whiff before the orge crushed him with one fell clutch of a fist. Meraad could hear his sternum and ribs crack like a heel to a twig. The ogre threw him his corpse hit the stone with a sickening thud and rolled off of an escarpment into the unexplored depths below. Meraad, we are not equipped to fell these beasts, put in one of the soldiers, We should retreat. Meraad, suddenly enraged, jabbed the butt of her staff into his abdomen which subsequentially whisked him off his feat and onto the ground. Despite the turmoil around her, Meraad was given an objective. We were sent to meet a demand of the Qun, she said flatly, The demand will be met. It was customary for the qunari to slay their own then and there, however, Meraad did not want to further jeopardize their mission. Just as she was finished admonishment, the ogre called out in agony. A human appeared and felled the beast - rather than be relieved, Meraad was infuriated. The qunari in her party were beaten and bloody with numbers falling to less than Meraad could count on both hands, but she would not be encumbered by a concourse of arrant mercenaries. As the remaining qunari composed themselves, Meraad rifled through the dead for signs of life. One soldier with a sword through his shoulder was salvagable, but the others were simply corpses now. She knelt into the dust and wrapped her fingers around the blade. Breathe, she said calmly. The qunari did as he was bid though he resembled stone, unwavering and nonchalant, she could sense his fear when she clutched the bastard sword's hilt. In one clean pull the weapon was on the ground and her hands, now soiled in the soldier's blood, were clamped over the wound. He gnashed his teeth quietly behind his lips as a mean to cope with the agony while Meraad reached the satchel strapped on her backside and produced a material for a poultice. You are unwelcome here, snarled a soldier to the human. Leave. Meanwhile, Meraad prepared her cataplasm with a small mortar. She was not a healer nor had she ever had any intention to be and Ariqun's priests were unavailable to venture into the Deep Road's with them. Sit up. Again, the qunari complied. She poured a mouthful of water from her waterskin into the mortar and ground the flax until it was porous enough to be applied like an ointment. Though he winced during application, the qunari was altogether tractable. As she began to unroll a spool of linen, she commanded the soldier in Qunlat. He understood her interdiction and retreated to the battlefield where he collected useful items from the dead. Take your party and find another path to travel, she called out to the ogre-slayer, We have claimed this. The earth beneath her began to rumble. It was curt, nothing unusual for the Deep Roads, so she neglected the notion. Another short rumble followed. Again, she paid it no mind. When her patient was strong enough to stand, Meraad did so also. She grasped her staff and planted it firmly in the earth arrant sparks danced from it, warning those nearby that it was a powerful conductor for destructive magic spells. I will not give you a second warning. Panahedan .