[The dreams had been coming more and more often, the roar of the Archdemon intertwined with the synchronized chittering of the darkspawn. They were dreams he had dealt with for years but now, he strained towards them, trying to wake slowly in the morning as if he could retain more meaning from it that way. And everyday, it seemed like he did, the garbled gibberish slowly morphing into coherent speech.
His time was coming, that much was clear, the taint of Darkspawn blood slowly spreading to his mind.
Except that this time when he wakes up there's nothing but silence. His mind is clear and quiet and just his. Slowly he sits up, tense, because it's patently obvious that he's not in his bed at the keep; it appears that he's sitting at some table set up for a banquet, as he if he fallen asleep after too much wine.
His back straightens, and his mouth thins, but there's also the reassuring weight of his staff over his back, and he reaches back, almost idle, stroking at the worn wood, reassuring himself of its presence. He can still feel the hum of his own power as well, another comfort. He glances up at the table again, and none of the others celebrating seem to make note of his presence, as if he had always been here.
So, he is in an unknown land, plucked away and dropped down, with no knowledge of how or why.
But he could no longer feel the taint, and despite himself, his lips curl up in a smile.]
It could be worse. [Quiet, muttered words, almost to himself.]
The Warden-Commander (elf mage) | Dragon Age
His time was coming, that much was clear, the taint of Darkspawn blood slowly spreading to his mind.
Except that this time when he wakes up there's nothing but silence. His mind is clear and quiet and just his. Slowly he sits up, tense, because it's patently obvious that he's not in his bed at the keep; it appears that he's sitting at some table set up for a banquet, as he if he fallen asleep after too much wine.
His back straightens, and his mouth thins, but there's also the reassuring weight of his staff over his back, and he reaches back, almost idle, stroking at the worn wood, reassuring himself of its presence. He can still feel the hum of his own power as well, another comfort. He glances up at the table again, and none of the others celebrating seem to make note of his presence, as if he had always been here.
So, he is in an unknown land, plucked away and dropped down, with no knowledge of how or why.
But he could no longer feel the taint, and despite himself, his lips curl up in a smile.]
It could be worse. [Quiet, muttered words, almost to himself.]