The Deep Roads

[igetthatalot]

Varric does not like being underground.

He's said this before, plenty of times. It's a known fact. He hasn't mentioned it since five minutes after they stepped into the Deep Roads (how Blondie managed to secure those Gray Warden maps of the entrance he doesn't know, but he's grateful). It would be bad form, considering how much of this expedition was his idea in the first place.

But, Maker, it's been four days now- he thinks- and they're still picking their way downwards with no sign of treasure anywhere to distract him from the knowledge of just how much stone is positioned directly over his head. This... this is not his idea of a good thing.

They'd better find the good stuff soon. This is getting way too old for his liking.

Comments

[birdofkirkwall]

She's wiping the darkspawn blood off of her blade when she spots the golems against the wall, and she pauses, half expecting them to come to life and attack them.

That seems to be their luck these days, after all.

"People are going to come ask me to help save their second cousin or some such from the deep roads," she says, picking up on her previous thread of thought. "'Please, Hawke, save them!', and I'm just going to laugh. One of you hit me if I don't."

[igetthatalot]

Thankfully, the golems don't move. They're probably stronger than the shackles holding them to the wall, but so far as Varric and Hawke can tell, they're not going anywhere.

"Tell you what, Hawke," says Varric as they make their way down a half-flight of stairs into a vast room lit on one side by an enormous lyrium vein and on the other by ancient dwarven lamps of some red stuff too shielded to see clearly. "I'll make a special point of paying for the courier to go find the nearest Gray Warden instead next time, personally. We can leave the darkspawn to the professionals. How does that sound?"

This room doesn't end in a tunnel, unlike the chambers they've encountered before this. At the far end a half-flight of stairs leads up to a heavy-looking iron-bound door.

[birdofkirkwall]

"It sounds like you're the best friend a girl can ask for," Hawke says cheerfully, pausing to inspect the lyrium vein now that they don't have darkspawn to deal with. "You know just what to say to a girl."

With that, Hawke leads the way up the stairs, muscling the ancient door open and-

There's a roar, and a yep, and...

What happened earlier, with Merrill and the spider? That's now replaced with Hawke, her daggers, and an ogre.

[igetthatalot]

Well.

At least the ogre's big enough that Varric can target some of its bulk without fear of hitting Hawke, right?

... that's a lot of ogre blood flying around the room.

[birdofkirkwall]

SHINK, SHINK, THOQQ!

The ogre roars, staggering to the ground and staying down.

Hawke, meanwhile, shows no signs of stopping her assault.

[da2_npcs]

"Ah- Hawke?" says Isabela, raising her voice. "Hawke, you can stop now. it's properly dead."

[birdofkirkwall]

Hawke's mind creeps back from wherever it had been, at Isabela's words. Her attack hesitates, then stops with the woman looking a little embarrassed.

"Ah...sorry about that..."

[igetthatalot]

"It's okay, Hawke," says Varric. "We all have our moments."

"Hawke?" calls Merrill, who's crept around the edges of the room to peer ahead just in case. "It's half-collapsed out there, but I don't see anything moving. I think we should be all right..."

[birdofkirkwall]

Hawke nudges the ogre one last time...just to be sure.

"Alright," she calls to the elf, stepping away from the beast to head in her direction. "We'll be right there."

[igetthatalot]

It's uncomfortable going for the next few lengths of passage, but the collapses happened long ago. The rocks are stable; the route, it seems, is safe. And there's no darkspawn to be found anywhere.

Although Varric finds himself sniffing the air unhappily as the dull red glow of a much larger chamber ahead starts to penetrate the dimness. "Hawke," he says, "I don't like that smell, do you? That's not darkspawn."

[birdofkirkwall]

Hawke sniffs the air tentatively for herself expression immediately settling into a scowl.

"It doesn't," she answers, her mind trying to place the odd scent until...

"Oh no...no no no, I am calling cheat on this one, to whatever higher power is up there."

[igetthatalot]

"Better get your big spells ready, Daisy," says Varric grimly as he readies his most potent explosive arrow. "We've got a dragon coming."

[birdofkirkwall]

"A dragon?" Merrill squeaks, and Hawke just nods as she unsheathes her daggers.

"Generally what that smell means, yes. And it's never just one dragon, so everyone watch your backs."

She pauses just before they enter the room.

"Everyone ready?"

[igetthatalot]

They nod. Varric steps forward first, since the others can take aim over his head if they have to.

And there's the sound of leathery wings.

[birdofkirkwall]

She had really really hoped that they were wrong. Seems like their luck isn't going to hold out, though.

A dragon settles in front of them and roars a challenge, dragonlings skittering out from darkened corners of the room. Just great.

So, grumbling, Hawke lashes out at their foes, she and her friends working together like a well-oiled machine as always.

[igetthatalot]

It's times like this Varric truly appreciates all the work that went into Bianca. Reloading an ordinary crossbow takes forever when you're surrounded by chittering, hissing small versions of a giant reptile that flies and breathes fire. Every second he doesn't have to reload is one he can spend picking the smaller dragonlings off before they get to the ladies.

[birdofkirkwall]

It's clockwork, really. Hawke stabs and steps aside for a well placed cold spell from Merrill to land, and she sidesteps again to make room for Isabela.

The only drawback, really, happens when one of the younglings manage to get past Varrics support fire and wrap it's jaws around Hawke's forearm. Hawke grimaces, and ends up having to stab the beast a lot to dislodge it.

[da2_npcs]

In some times and places and worlds, Merrill would have run out of spells by now and had to fall back out of the line of fire while her blade-bearing friends sliced the dragon to ribbons. Fortunately, this is not one of those worlds; she does have to pause long enough to swallow a lyrium potion at one point, but then it's right back to freezing as much of the dragon and its environs as she can manage. Which comes in awfully handy for Isabela and Hawke, since it means the dragon's spending more time screaming in pain than breathing fire.

The thing's not going to last much longer at this rate, even if it does manage to get off the ground again.

[birdofkirkwall]

Thankfully, it doesn't last for too much longer, Hawke standing there, breathless, as the last dragon falls. Looking around, she takes stock of her companions.

"Well that was an annoyance and a half. Thank the maker it's over."

[da2_npcs]

"I call first pick of the hoard," says Isabela immediately.

"Hoard? What hoard?"

"It's a dragon, Merrill. There's always a hoard." She shakes off her blades, wipes them each down, and sheathes them. "Come and help me find it, and we'll see who gets the good stuff first."

[igetthatalot]

"While we're at it, Hawke, loan me one of your blades," says Varric. "One of my contacts told me a while ago that there's an armorer in Denerim who's worked with dragon scale and bone before. It's a long way to send the stuff, but with the right courier, it'd be well worth it."

[birdofkirkwall]

Hawke watches the byplay with a look of fondness, unsheathing one of her blades to hand to-

Huh, she's fairly certain she'd wiped them down before...

Ah, it's hers.

"Ah, Merril? Maybe stay here a moment."

[da2_npcs]

"Oh dear," says Merrill, spotting Hawke's arm where the dragonling caught it. "I can fix that for you. Creators, that looks nasty."

[birdofkirkwall]

"Don't have to tell me twice," she says in response, looking down at the wound in question.

"Maker, is that a tooth?"

[da2_npcs]

"Yes, and I'm afraid it's going to have to come out," says Merrill firmly. "Did you want to keep it? Sometimes the hunters in my clan used to keep bits of things that had tried and failed to kill them. Wore them around their necks, mostly."