Drakkwall
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jun 14, 2006
- Posts
- 4,353
Ferelden is facing civil war, the betrayed king lies dead among his soldiers, Darkspawns scourging out of the Wilds like a black sea of maggots. And me... I am a survivor of the massacre, an elven mage who was able to fight his way free of the invading filths. While most people would assume I am a apostate or malificar so are they dead wrong. I was raised in the Circle of Ferelden after they found me in the Blackmarch among a massacred Dalish elf clan. My name is Ares, I got no surname, I was given the surname Jevren but I didn't feel it was right and choose to only be called by my first name.
It had been a harsh battle, the kind hearted Wynne had managed to get the survivors to flee for Lothering when the General Loughain fled the field and everything went down the shit hole. My magic had saved me when I had summoned a massive tornado of fire that consumed the entire battlefield in an unyielding flame. I then fled to the north and I still am, running through the forest of the Wilds with sweat pouring down my pale skinned forehead.
I am exhausted, my legs are burning like acid is pouring through the veins, my robe is badly torn and my top had been completely incinerated by a Hurlock Missionary. Soon I see an old bridge of stone, I move forward, my tired body not willing to give up when salvation is so close. I lean against the stone of the bridge and let my exhausted body rest against it, I do not know where I am, but I had been running for two days straight now. My body is sore, my mana drained and my torso is freezing cold.
"Well, well, lookie here lads, a fresh elven prey for the picking." I look up swiftly and see a group of armed humans, I count six thugs wearing leather armour and two wearing chain mail. Staggering to my feet I prepare myself for battle, I draw upon the last reserve of mana I have and as the leader approaches with a wicked smirk on his face I swing my staff into the stone of the bridge and scream out the final word of the spell I had mentally been preparing. "Louvavistivien!" The rock of the bridge shifted and the bandits' eyes opened in startled fear and the leader drew his blade. "Shit the knife ear's a mage!" They get no chance to attack as the stone of the bridge shits and massive fang like spikes erupts beneath them, skewering the entire bandit gang like boars. I draw back the stone into the stone of the bridge before falling on my back, panting, my final bout of energy gone I feel darkness approach my mind, though as I fall to the dreams of the Fade, I swear I can hear a woman's voice calling out somewhere.
OOC: An elf mage is fleeing the Darkspawn horde, he fights bandits to exhaustion and falls asleep on the road, leaving him open for all manners of danger. He is found by a noblewoman, possibly the warden who is moving to save Ferelden, a fellow ostagar survivor or on a patron through her lands.
Ares the Elf Mage: http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2010/141/f/2/DA_O___Unarmored_Warden_by_lesatho.jpg
The Noble Woman(Second from the left): http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2010/021/1/1/Myria__Dragon_Age__5_by_Kristinamahan.png
It had been a harsh battle, the kind hearted Wynne had managed to get the survivors to flee for Lothering when the General Loughain fled the field and everything went down the shit hole. My magic had saved me when I had summoned a massive tornado of fire that consumed the entire battlefield in an unyielding flame. I then fled to the north and I still am, running through the forest of the Wilds with sweat pouring down my pale skinned forehead.
I am exhausted, my legs are burning like acid is pouring through the veins, my robe is badly torn and my top had been completely incinerated by a Hurlock Missionary. Soon I see an old bridge of stone, I move forward, my tired body not willing to give up when salvation is so close. I lean against the stone of the bridge and let my exhausted body rest against it, I do not know where I am, but I had been running for two days straight now. My body is sore, my mana drained and my torso is freezing cold.
"Well, well, lookie here lads, a fresh elven prey for the picking." I look up swiftly and see a group of armed humans, I count six thugs wearing leather armour and two wearing chain mail. Staggering to my feet I prepare myself for battle, I draw upon the last reserve of mana I have and as the leader approaches with a wicked smirk on his face I swing my staff into the stone of the bridge and scream out the final word of the spell I had mentally been preparing. "Louvavistivien!" The rock of the bridge shifted and the bandits' eyes opened in startled fear and the leader drew his blade. "Shit the knife ear's a mage!" They get no chance to attack as the stone of the bridge shits and massive fang like spikes erupts beneath them, skewering the entire bandit gang like boars. I draw back the stone into the stone of the bridge before falling on my back, panting, my final bout of energy gone I feel darkness approach my mind, though as I fall to the dreams of the Fade, I swear I can hear a woman's voice calling out somewhere.
OOC: An elf mage is fleeing the Darkspawn horde, he fights bandits to exhaustion and falls asleep on the road, leaving him open for all manners of danger. He is found by a noblewoman, possibly the warden who is moving to save Ferelden, a fellow ostagar survivor or on a patron through her lands.
Ares the Elf Mage: http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2010/141/f/2/DA_O___Unarmored_Warden_by_lesatho.jpg
The Noble Woman(Second from the left): http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2010/021/1/1/Myria__Dragon_Age__5_by_Kristinamahan.png
