Lothering: A brief encounter.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Fantasy Realm


Based on Bioware's RPG, Dragon age origins. Bethany and her brother, Carver (Dragon age 2) witness an encounter in a tavern with a group of travellers in their home village of Lothering (D.A.O)

Submitted: October 25, 2017

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Submitted: October 25, 2017

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Lothering: A brief encounter

A Dragon Age origins/ Dragon age 2 tale.

 

The town of Lothering was a farming community set in good pastoral lands, it boasted a chantry, a tavern, a dozen or so small ramshackle homesteads and a flour mill set on a hill, apart from that it was quite a forgettable place.

Inside the town tavern the chatter from the locals filled the air amidst the playing of lute and mandolin and drum of a few local musicians.

It had been a month since King Cailan had lost his life at Ostagar fending off the Darkspawn uprising. Now rumours were spreading of bands of the marauding creatures being spotted south of the outskirts of the town. A small militia force of locals had gathered weapons and horses and carts and headed south, for if these creatures were out there, then the farmers were going to defend their families, homes and land.

‘Carver! will you stop glowering at him, please!’ Bethany pleaded with her brother as he gave another dirty sweeping look at the elf sitting on a table with his three human companions.

‘I don’t like the way that knife ear keeps looking at you.’ Carver scowled.

‘Oh please, brother he means no harm,’ Bethany protested, feeling her cheeks blush as the elf gave her a sly wink and a beaming smile.

The elf was Dalish born, a tribal tattoo across the right side of his face told as much. It was strange to see a Dalish in a human settlement and looking so relaxed about it, for they preferred to stay aloof sticking to forest tracks and roads.

The Elf and his three human companions had arrived in Lothering the day before, they had kept themselves to themselves and now huddled around their table drinking slowly and whispering in a heated debate.

Their leader seemed to be a burly young man with short cropped black hair and piercing blue eyes, handsome and rugged; he had caught the eye of several of the towns’ women. Sitting on the floor beside him panting away was a large brown mabari war dog; the beast looked vicious but seemed to be enjoying the tickling behind its ear its master gave it.

 The second human male was a tall strong looking man with short sandy hair who was also easy on the eye and carried himself well. The last member of the group was a woman, with raven black hair and dark eyes which seemed to penetrate the darkest recesses of the tavern alert and untrustworthy, she seemed to have a permanent frown on her striking face and looked uncomfortable in a crowd.

‘Bethany! Now you’re doing it.’ Carver grumped.

‘Doing what?’ Bethany asked innocently, brushing a length of long dark hair from her pretty face.

‘Staring, that’s what. You are encouraging him, aren’t you?’ Carver protested.

‘Oh and you have not been staring at that red headed sister of the chantry sitting over there in that corner, have you?’ Bethany shot back at her brother, her large brown eyes sparkling mischievously.

‘Oh you mean sister Leliana?’ Carver replied trying to sound all innocent, and failing miserably.

‘Leliana, is it? You even know her name.’ Bethany blustered, ‘put your tongue back in your mouth, brother you look like a hungry mabari with its eyes on a tasty bone, its embarrassing!’

Carver felt his face turn red, then trying to change the subject, he cleared his throat,

‘Have you seen that Qunari in the cage outside of town, what a brute.’

‘Yes, I kind of feel sorry for the poor creature, he has been in there for three days without food or water, and in this heat.’  Bethany replied.

‘You feel sorry for the Qunari! What about that family he murdered with his bare hands. Do not forget they were neighbours of ours; they could just as easily have been us! You are far too soft Bethany Hawke, you know that?’

‘I am sure Garret would have made short work of him if he had threatened us, or mother.’ Bethany retorted.

‘Oh, please, Garret please big brother, protect me!’ Carver replied sarcastically.

Suddenly there seemed to be a commotion at one of the tables where six guardsmen were drinking heavily. Staggering to his feet, one of the guardsmen raised a tankard.

 ‘To Loghain, hero of Riverdale and Ostagar, may Andraste bless him and curse those cowardly grey wardens who betrayed our good King Cailan...’ he blurted out.

Sweeping his drunken eyes around the tavern, the guard’s stare fell on the table of four travellers as they sat in silence.

‘You there, fellow will you not raise a tankard to our future King?’ the guard stammered.

The black haired man shook his head staring coldly back at the guardsman.’

‘I said, will you not raise your tankard to Loghain?‘

Standing up, the black haired man made to turn as he spoke to his companions, ‘come on, its time to leave.’

‘You dare insult our regent, peasant?’ the drunken guard scowled reaching for his sword.

Like lightning, the stranger spun around and pulled out a shield from beneath his cloak which fell open revealing a chainmail shirt beneath covered in a tabard with a blue insignia emblazoned on it; the twin griffins of the grey wardens.

At the sight of the warden emblem, the guards lurched to their feet reaching for their weapons, chairs and tables were pushed aside and folk screamed and ran for cover.

Slamming the guard in the face with his shield, the warden lunged forward smashing a chain mailed fist into the face of another guard. Both of the men went down their faces a bloody mess and missing several teeth.

The mabari was up in an instant growling and sinking its teeth into a guardsmans’ arm, the man screamed dropping his sword as the dog’s teeth ripped into his flesh.

 The sandy haired warden gripped his pewter tankard and smashed it into the face of his attacker sending him sprawling to the ground with a broken jaw.

 The attack all happened in the blink of an eye. Bethany shot a glance over to where the elf had been sitting just a second before, now his chair was empty, she scanned the tavern but he seemed to have vanished into thin air.

The raven haired woman had taken several steps back, Bethany’s eyes opened wide as she watched the woman raise a hand, her fingers twitched, then Suddenly one of the guards who was lunging at the warden stopped in his tracks, his eyes glazed over as he turned and grabbed one of his own mates and began to punch him senseless to the ground.

Bethany could feel the raw magical power pouring from the woman, she was an apostate mage, like her self, but this woman’s magical energy, Bethany sensed, was more potent and darker than her own.

Suddenly the elf appeared behind one of the guards holding a wickedly curved silver blade against the man’s throat.

The warden turned to him and shouted. ‘No, Zevran, no killing!’

The elf seemed positively disappointed, as he turned the knife around and knocked the guard out with a pommel blow to the side of the head, ‘Alright, warden, you are the boss. His accent was rich and exotic, Bethany couldn’t quite place it.

As fists flew and noses were flattened and teeth lost and blood spilled on the tavern floor in the brawl, Bethany saw one of the guards, returning from outside. Seeing his mates being attacked, he drew his knife and sneaked up behind the black haired woman, intent on backstabbing her.

Focusing her thoughts on him, Bethany cast her magic.

Sensing the release of a spell, the black haired woman spun around just as the guard suddenly dropped his dagger and screamed out in terror as he began patting his chest and rubbing at his arms, ‘Get them off me... someone help they are crawling all over me...’

Obviously the guard could see something no one else could. Raising her black walking staff, the woman cudgelled the man over the head dropping him like a sack of potatoes. Shooting Bethany a glance a half twisted smile crossed her full rouged lips as she nodded her thanks to her.

Then as quickly as the fight had started it was over, the grey warden gripped a guard by his shirt and pinned him up against a wall.

‘I was at Ostagar, I lit the beacon fires at the tower of Ishal, Loghain turned tail and fled the field leaving our king and brave men to the mercy of the darkspawn. We could have turned them back, driven them back into the deep roads, but Loghain deserted our men and our king.’

The tavern had gone silent as everyone listened to the grey warden, his voice was menacing and full of bitterness.

‘Take a message to Loghain, tell him the grey wardens know what he did at Ostagar, tell him we know of his treachery and tell him that I, Thomas Cousland, the last surviving heir of Highever and grey warden am coming for him.

Sweeping the tavern with his piercing blue eyes, the warden and his companions stormed to the door.

 Bethany blushed and giggled as Zevran passed her giving her a sweeping bow and cooing, ‘My Lady.’ as he went. With a happy bark and wagging his tail the mabari followed his master out of the tavern.

‘Well’ what was all that about?’ Carver blustered.

‘You heard the warden?’ Bethany replied

‘And you believe what he said about Loghain?’ Carver replied almost shocked.

‘I don’t know what to believe, Carver. All I do know is that these are strange, dangerous times and I will not sleep until Garret is back home safely!’

‘Oh here we go again, Garret, my big brother, Garret, my hero!’ Carver replied imitating Bethany’s voice.

Punching Carver on the arm Bethany scowled, ‘Well I don’t know about you, brother but I’ve had enough excitement for one night, lets go home.’

With a grump, Carver nodded and followed Bethany as she left the tavern.

 

 

 

 


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