igetthatalot | The Deep Roads

The Deep Roads

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.

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

"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?"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

"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."

Edited 2013-12-15 20:28 (UTC)

"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."

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."

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

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

"Maker, is that a tooth?"

"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."

Hawke's not normally a thing resembling squeamish, but she finds herself having to look away as Merrill works. Her gaze finds Varric, and she addresses him in a tight voice.

"Can you imagine if I kept a token from everything that's tried to kill me?"

"That's a lot of spider legs," says Varric, without looking up from removing the dragon's scales. "What would you do with them all? Some kind of festively hairy arrangement for the front door, to keep unwanted visitors away?"

"I think that would be more Fenris's area of expertise. Though, it would be amusing to see the reactions to some grotesque garland of them hung on the mantle."

"I'm sure your uncle would appreciate that," says Varric. "Isabela?"

"Hawke, there's some very fine armour here that just doesn't suit me at all," Isabela calls out from a shadowy corner of the room. "Looks about your size and shape, if I'm not mistaken."

"Lovely," Hawke chirps, then hisses as Merrill works on her arm. "I seem to have gotten a bit of dragon and darkspawn blood on mine."

"Well, it's certainly not going to be suitable for a dwarf," says Isabela. "No offense, Varric."

"None taken," Varric replies. "Excuse me a moment. I want to see where these stairs go."

Edited 2013-12-15 21:07 (UTC)

Hawke nods, and as soon as Merrill deems the procedure done, she looks at her arm to find only some scarring. Thanking the elf with a ruffle of her hair, she stands and wanders over to wherever Isabela has sequestered herself.

"Find anything else interesting?"

"Some coin," Isabela says, "and a bow- looks Nevarran, if you ask me. Probably some dragon-hunter who wasn't quick enough with it. Oh, and a shield. I've no interest in that, but I know where I can sell the bow for a fine price."

Grinning, Hawke bumps her shoulder against the Pirate's gently.

"See? I knew it was a good thing to have you along, 'Bela."

"A profitable one, certainly," says Isabela as she returns the grin.

Varric's voice comes from up in the direction of the stairs he'd mentioned. "Hey, Hawke?" he calls. "I think we've found our passage. This goes right where we want it to, once you get past all the twenty-foot Paragon statues. We should go back and get Bodahn's boy."

"Good job," Hawke says from beside Isabela, already in the midst of changing out her armour for the set Isabela found. "Thankfully, we shouldn't run into any trouble on our way back."

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igetthatalot - 2013-12-15 21:30 (UTC) - Expand

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