Dragon Age

[Renzo]

The fleeing from Nevarra had nearly broken her. Not the running itself, she was built as strong as any of her countrymen. No. It was leaving her homeland behind in full knowledge that onece she and her fellows were gone, nothing would stem the rotten, vile tide of Darkspawn... Nothing would hold fast against the Blight. Nothing could save Nevarra.

She had strode for miles after crossing the Waking Sea into Ferelden, visiting many places but never staying anywhere too long. For a time, they had traveled as before, children and care-givers central, warriors and hunters protecting them at every angle. She had scattered those that remained of her people, and told them to always remember their forebears, that Nevarra's men and women would never be forgotten fully. The travelling in a large group had led them to be mistaken for a raid by a great many village's militia, and she could not feel another's blood - innocent, if ill-informed - dripping down her arms as a result of her countrymen being together.

They were survivors - much as they all enjoyed knowing their tribe survived, it wasn't necessary for them to stay alive. Beyond that, Soracha had seen little else to do but to travel - Ferelden was a large country, if ill-prepared for the troubles racing downward from the north. If she couldn't help save it - and she knew in her gut that nothing and noone could do that if Ferelden didn't want the saving - then she might as well see its' points of interest before she and all else died to Darkspawn blades among said landmarks.

Her currently goal was to reach Denerim - and, finally, she wasn't far from it. She had decided that, while she was forced to dwell in a country dominated by nobles who considered her their lesser, she would at least lay eyes on their supposed achievements firsthand, and decide for herself if their opinions held any merit. So far, she had found herself more impressed with the few Dwarven merchants she had run across, but she had yet to encounter the legendary Dalish Elves - as per their fabled story tells, they were invisible to her eyes if they were watching her at all.

Striding through the large, heavy gates and nodding in respect to the guards posted there, Soracha lowered the bear-headed hood of her coat, and cast her eye about the street as she continued down it, entirely ignorant of the wondered gazes and whispered words. So far, she had to say, she was entirely unimpressed. Their masonry was ramshackle, sometimes appearing as if it remained upright due to stubborness to defy its' own short-comings. Their rooves - were they to be called such - seemed at best to be whole and rain proof be accident, wood laid atop one another in any arrangement provided to gaps are covered.

She continued to walk, dirt and stones crunching beneath heavy leather boots with each step, the smell best described as... Eclectic. Or perhaps confusing.

Her eyes were given reason as she turned the next badly-formed corner - the market square lay ahead. A memory hit her of the equivalent back in her homeland - a massive, city-spanning arrangement rather than a small gathering, shouting for attention. The markets would travel between cities on a tour, though each had a 'home' city to stelle into when a harsh, Nevarran winter settled in. A true Nevarran winter, her grandfather would have said. When he had been king, they had toured the markets often - no travelling merchant group sold the same things twice. It was an adventure, always - the colours, the music - and, at the age she had been, the sweets and cakes. Much has Soracha revelled in the thrill of the hunt and the adrenaline of combat now, she had been a little girl once, bright-eyed and entirely uninterested in hunting things to the death. Notwhen there was cake to be had.

Withdrawing from her memories for a moment, Soracha found she had a smile on her face, and was unaware when it had arrived. Deciding to open her ears a little and attempt to enjoy the Fereldan market music, she approached the bakers. She had decided that if the mind still enjoyed the thought of cake and pigtails, then perhaps checking to see if it still was as such might be a worthwhile excursion. She chuckled, however, deciding that she could live without pig-tails.

x

[ElRey]

The marketplace was abuzz with activity as per usual. Though it was still early enough for dew to still be found asleep on the leaves the cries of pottery merchants, food vendors and exotic traders filled the air. The true impact of the current blight had yet to be felt here, Ferelden was as usual too swept up in itself to worry about some swamps across the ocean. Compared to the hordes the northern lands were seeing now, Ferelden's own blight seemed fairly insignificant; but that didn't stop them from taking an arrogant stance on the matter in recent months.

Dog wasn't so much arrogant in the matter as he was ignorant. Having only known the Ferelden capital darkspawn wasn't really on his radar so much as were the locations of the butchers and the some of the finest hiding spots in the city. If there was one thing he had learned it was that Denerim being such a large city never really slept. It was simply different activities took place dependent on the sun and moon. That meant it paid to know where to lay low when you were a rogue Mabari with a nose for the finer things in life...

Glazed hams, roasted duck, succulent lamb and juicy steaks. All called to him like a siren to a sailor. Truth be told he had developed a taste for a well made mead as a pup as well, his keen nose bore the scar of just how angry a dwarf would get when you drank a barrel of Imperial Dwarven Stout without permission.

However Dog had refined his technique, he had to, seeing as he was nearly twice the size he was when the dwarf nearly cut his snout off. It was much harder to be conspicuous when you were nearly half the size of a horse. He had already earned a reputation in Denerim, and he was all too aware of it. Around the marketplace several scraps of parchment had crude drawings of the hound along with warnings and encouragement to send the animal packing should he be spotted. While he was still unnamed in a traditional sense "The Scourge of Denerim's Market" had been a hot topic for months now.

It was only by Ferelden's own xenophobia that he was originally able to hide with such ease, the Alienage providing the perfect haven for the hound. Being a puppy earns you treats just because you're adorable and Dog had worked that angle for as long as he could. Even being secretly taken in by a boy for several months who would sneak him scraps from dinner. However neither scraps nor the small space under the porch could sustain the growing Mabari and he had to move on.

Now he had a system of hideouts all over the city, burrows and crevices hidden where no one would think to look, or where no one was brave enough to venture. A main benefit of being a hound was not having any purse strings to cut, and being one of such size meant no one would venture a try without a whole lot of backup.

Weaving through the ever growing crowd Dog locked on his target. A line of brown sugar ham lay still sizzling in its own juices atop a merchant's stall. The steam rising into the crisp air was indication that they had just been taken from the stove. With surprising grace the Mabari kept his form shadowed behind objects and clumps of pedestrians.

Long strings of drool hung like rubbery stalactites from his jowls as he hunkered down to make his approach. A vast majority of Denerim's citizens seemed entirely unconcerned about a Mabari in their midst, after all, what sort of Ferelden wouldn't trust a hound? Closing the distance to less than twenty yards Dog saw his chance.
As the meat merchant turned to help another customer the Mabari made his move, charging the stall at full speed, barreling over guards and civilians alike. At just under ten yards he let out a deafening bark caused those surrounding the cart to leap with fright or grip their ears in pain, providing a path up, over and through the cart itself.

The graceful leap landed the gargantuan hound directly on top of his prey, daintily picking up two massive cuts in his powerful jaws before bounding the opposite direction. A chorus of angry shouts reached his ears as he gingerly outpaced the unsuspecting humans. Throwing his weight around just enough to reach the nearest alley before picking up to full speed again.

By the time the guards made it through the crowd and to the mouth of the alley Dog was already blocks away greedily chomping down the salty sweet of the ham.

[Renzo]

Soracha had never seen anything quite like it. Large, easily equal in size to the Steppe Wolves native to Nevarra - a few of her tribe travelled with some, to ensure the breed did not entirely die out. Upon arrival in Ferelden, they had been welcomed based on that alone - the stories of the nation's love-affair with dogs were not exaggerated.

He - with a hunter's eyes, she noted its' gender in seconds - could easily stand to her shoulder height if he chose to, though not for long without leaning on something. A pureblood Mabari War Hound - bigger than the conventional mastiffs they closely resembled, and harder to tame. Even after losing her favoured grounds, something of the huntress remained in her - the chance to have a Mabari imprint to her was a rare one indeed, and one she didn't intend to pass up.

She bolted through the crowd of angered merchants and dutiful, if lacklustre, guardsmen - this prey was not for them. It was a beast beyond compare, a creature of extraordinary power and grace that deserved its' chance to test its' might against better foes than this city could offer. Against her.

Kicking pebbles and dust behind her as she sped after the dog, Soracha slipped her hand into the gauntlet at her belt and gripped the strong metal bar inside the hand of it, drawing the gauntlet from her belt and bringing the two blades mounted on it to bear, digging them into the wall of the alleyway and scaling up to the roof of the shoe vendors premises, crouching atop the roof with an almost predatory gait as she sniffed into the air and followed the scent of ham, dog saliva and faint melted brown sugar.

It wasn't easy to identify in amongst Denerim's market district, but after a few attempts and some trial and error, Soracha found the creature. He was magnificent - scarred, muscled and utterly unrepentant. In a country so 'civilized'that it ignored the fall of an entire country merely a small sea journey away, she couldn't help but feel some measure of pride at his defiance of the rules of this realm. Calmly, she climbed down and into view - on many hunts, the best tactic was to attack from afar or above. Mabari's thought differently - intelligently. It was in their genes. Fortunately, she knew how to fight those with a mind to go about it properly.

Calmly, she approached, drawing her arm out of the gauntlet and attaching it to her belt again. Crouching down to one knee, Soracha squared her shoulders and adopted a stern expression, her fists clenched. Slowly, a low, dominant growl rose in her throat. She didn't know if the mabari breed or its' quirks, but all canines understood this - it was a challenge of their authority, a way to talk to them, to get them to know you weren't just another human. You were special - you could talk like they did.

In that sense, it was also a lie - beyond this, a human couldn't bark. Soracha knew - as a girl, she'd tried. But that wasn't important. What was important was that she was bigger than he was, and wasn't showing fear. Judging by his impressive size, this mabari wouldn't have encountered too much of either.

x

[ElRey]

The soft patter of steps wasn’t something that would have peeked Dog’s interest, save that it came from above him. His lone ear perked up, trying to judge just where it was and eyes followed to see whom it could belong to. Below his bloodied jaw lay the remnants of the hams, now little more than slivers of bone and red stains on the dry dirt.

Questions were answered by the woman who landed in front of him, the pelt of a bear draped about her shoulders and a look of steady calm drawn across her features. The woman was clearly out of place in Denerim, though at this point that mattered little to Dog. A change in demeanor was evident by the haunches that bristled in irritation. A scowl crossed his lips, revealing a mouthful of menacing teeth.

Taking a bold step forward the massive animal crouched slightly, both to protect its meal and to provide a good defensive position. A flat-footed foe was one that was easy to hit he had learned in his many ill-fated robbery attempts. His single remaining ear laid flat against his head, the growl he emitted grew with fervor as she took another step forward.

As she lifted her foot to take another step Dog lashed out, snarling viciously, saliva and bits of meat flying from his angry maw. Taking heed of his obvious warning the woman crouched, keeping shoulders squared with the war hound in front of her. As she began to let out her own low-pitched growl Dog hesitated. His growl lowered in volume and he tilted his head.

A deep part of Dog’s soul told him exactly what she was up to. Something no one in the entire city had the sense to do: Challenge him. Mabari's weren't bred to be imprinted on just anyone, that would be offensive to both the animal's intelligence and the proud history of Mabari handlers. This was something for Dog to consider, she had the gall to approach him unannounced, lets see just what she was capable of. He had little doubt she'd fail, this city never provided anything that peaked his interest for very long.

Amused with the notion, Dog crouched lower, going from aggressive to playful in the blink of an eye. Surely she couldn’t think it’d be that easy?

As her knee touched down Dog once again saw his opportune moment. Using the energy in his clenched legs he juked backwards, clamping a large piece of bone in his mouth before dashing right at the woman. Being down on one knee limited her mobility; the act would at least surprise her. However it indicated he was no longer interested in a fight. Like a puppy playing a game of keep away Dog started one way only to dodge the other, sprinting around the stalker before she had time to react.

Skidding in the loose gravel, Dog spun around at the end of the alley, a gleeful smile in his beady black eyes. Stubby tail wagging furiously he dropped the bone and let out a chipper bark, egging her on. This was to be the first round, assuming this strange female showed promise, there would be many more before he would submit himself to her in any visible way. Dog was not only a specimen of great physical strength; but his mind too was keen and his will unyielding.

None of this could be gained from his current stance, hind-end stuck into the air wiggling about a dopey look on his face. Quickly scooping the bone back up in his mouth he took off towards the docks throwing his weight into a fruit stand and sending the carts payload of melons tumbling across the road.

The message was clear: You wanna play? Chase me.

[Renzo]

Soracha chuckled - she hadn't entirely expected the sudden turn-around in demeanor, but then a Mabari war dog wasn't entirely similar to a Steppe Wolf - the wolves didn't quite hold the same intelligence. Twisting upwards to her feet as the dog ran, she weighed her options, and shrugged as she took the first running step forwards - the entirety of this city was foreign and unwelcoming to her. It wasn't as if she had anything better to do - and the dog, at least, appeared to understand how she worked. Kindred in a wrong landscape, after a fashion.

She coiled herself downwards a step from the wreckage of the melon cart and lurched upwards against the breeze gently coasting down the street, her jump not entirely unlike the Mabari's - she lacked grace, at least in comparison to the skinny, house-bound Fereldan women she had seen, but she made up for it with raw power, her toned form breaking through the crowd that had gathered to try and get an understanding of the situation like a catapulted rock through a stone wall.

Hitting the flag-stoned ground without a break in stride, Soracha narrowed her gaze and felt the corner of her mouth tweak upwards as the dog headed towards the docking area of the city - where she had first arrived in Ferelden with her countrymen. She had assumed she wouldn't be coming back to the city with the intent to sight-see, but it had lead her at least to an interesting day if this was anythign to go by - and it gave her advanced knowledge of the proposed playground that the mabari wouldn't be aware of.

Of course, she had to keep pace with the hound - not to mention keep it in sight - until it reached there for that advanced knowledge to be of any use... And the cheeky little blighter wasn't making it easy. If her tribe could see her now, they force her to step down as queen, but she had given up on her title having any meaning a good few months ago - she might well be of noble blood, but Fereldan nobles had odd shobbish behaviours that only they could fully fathom. Nobles of other countries - save Orlais, who were to be reviled be they good men and women or no - simply weren't as good as Fereldan nobles unless they proved themselves somehow, with each test unequal to the prevous and the passing grade determined by those who would rather you not succeed.

Personally, Soracha thought as she skided around the corner of the alleyway and bolted after the mabari trying to lose itself in the crowd ahead, she found more fulfilment in this childish game with a strange stray dog than in trying to gain the approval of those she could force into her service through rite of single combat. It just helped if the Fereldan populace weren't trying to lynch her, that was all.

x

[ElRey]

“Bloody flea bitten mongrel!” the bellow of the meloncart’s owner, a dwarf of all things, echoed after the hound as the wind rushed around his streamlined muscles. It was the second time that day dog had left surprised cries and angry yells in his wake. Dog glanced back just to see the woman bowl over several the concerned onlookers who stood around the broken cart like a bunch of confused statues. Though the road itself was a straight shot to the docks, the main drag was filled with all manner of barriers, making any notion of arriving there by direct means impossible.

The Mabari was determined, however. He sped down the stone pathway, bruising physique effortlessly muscling the few pedestrians who were either too stupid or too oblivious out of his way, bone still clutched firmly in his teeth like some kind of precious treasure. Zigzagging so as to make it as difficult as possible for his pursuer, Dog found himself spilling over barrels of fish, eggs and fruit, hurdling carts, climbing over stacks of crates and frightening horses. A small clearing in the activity of Denerim allowed for a burst of speed, his legs rocketing him further away from the woman who remained hot on heels despite his efforts.

Powerful legs locked and his rump swiveled, hooking around corner while barely losing a step. The four fibrous limbs churned like pistons as he took his next right, immediately followed by a sharp left, leaving him running parallel to the waterline through Denerim’s narrow alleys. Dog risked a look behind him, only to be greeted by the smirking face of the woman once again. Whoever she was, she certainly held her own, he had to give her that. It mattered little, the real test was yet to come.

They were getting closer now, and Dog knew he was just fast enough to outpace her until they reach the destination in his minds eye. Taking the next corner Dog congratulated himself on his perfect judgment, just ahead of the sprinting duo hung a series of clothes lines hanging heavy with recently washed laundry. Dog, being significantly lower to the ground than his human follower, carelessly charged through the hanging linens and tunics, their free hanging ends caressing him with their cool touch.

As the pair burst out of the alley onto the docks it was like hitting a wall of fresh salty sea air. Reinvigorated the by the scent and knowing they were just seconds away from the next trick up his sleeve, Dog continued his all out rush down the road.

Passing The Pearl, one of the most famous brothels in all of Ferelden, Dog made his final turn. This alley was darker, shadowed by the taller buildings in this section of town. It was time to see what this woman was really made of. Dog made one last unexpected hook down a cross section alley before dipping out of sight. This was a tactic he had used a thousand times, it was clear the woman was ignorant of the city or she would have stopped before it was too late.

Cruel and conniving eyes of cutthroats paid little heed to the massive animal which charged through their midst, by now they were used to it, he was a regular to this dingy alley. Indeed they were more interested by the sound of footsteps about to come around the corner.

By the time Soracha arrived their daggers were already drawn, smiles which screamed of foul intentions drawn across their lips. The tallest, who was clearly the leader, brandished a vicious serrated edge and waved in menacingly in her direction.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, beautiful?” He tilted his head, eying her up and down slowly. “Heh, maybe you give yourself up nice and easy and we let you live. Hmm?”

[Renzo]

Soracha gazed around the ramshackle, in bits and falling down around itself alleyway, and watched with predatory eyes as each of the men - unarmed, which would make this quicker - came out of hiding, more confident due to their leader's apparent control of the situation. She slowly placed her hand into the gauntlet on her belt and lifted it free of wherre it hung at her hip, the blades running down either side shining slightly in what little dull light made it through the lean-to roof edges. She had wanted to catch the mabari - and she could swear his scent still hung in the air - but removing low-down, thieving, motherless lowlives would suffice.

"I'd say the same to you... " She said, taking stance, "But I'd be lying. You have one chance to walk away. Just one." She glanced at them all - the first man looked about ready to burst out laughing. If at all possible, he would die first and messiest. The others, she judged, would be no braver than cutpurses should be - attacking from behind, then realizing you can't fight and stealing the money without earning the right to take it first. Anything your enemy cannot keep hold of is your right to take from him. To that end, Soracha wondered what kind of price, however low, the knives and leather armour worn by a few of the men might fetch.

The fight began swiftly, the serrated dagger ripping through the air where her head had been - and in return, the edges of her gauntlet tearing all the way through his throat and for just a second, sticking out the other side - crimson, dripping onto the ground, and scaring every other man just a little bit more than they through it would. Shoving him off of her blades, Soracha brandished the weapon, slick with blood, at the others, and smirked, "I think maybe you haven't quite got a handle of this 'fighting' thing."

She stepped aside of one swipe of metal, and ducked under the next as it grazed the back of her head, disembowelling the man responsible and spinning out from under the rainfall of his innards as they splattered in bloody noodles into the dirt. He spent the last few minutes of his life trying to gather them back inside himself as Soracha came under assault again, a pair of arms wrapping around her throat. She scowled and roared, offended at the very idea that this man had gotten so close without her say so - especially from behind.

She reached up to grab one of the offending thief's hands, taking firm hold and snapping the fingers of one hand one after another. keeping hold of his hand, she circled around him, his arm working as her ally and keeping him in position as she whipped the blades of her gauntlet across his back, severing his spine. He'd live - she'd made sure of it. A coward would spend his lifetime learning of his mistakes, no matter how harsh the punishment.

Soracha glared around at those who were left, each one of them feeling their courage falter the longer she looked in their direction. One man stepped forwards, and knife in his hand. The blood-smeared huntress approached, a predator in her own right, her claws dripping with more than just one man's blood. "Are you honestly that stupid? Three of you lie dead in a matter of seconds. How good are your chances? Really?"

x

[ElRey]

Dog didn’t give the man a chance to reconsider his decision, as he turned to run strong jaws sunk teeth around the man’s ankle. The man screamed as fangs sunk through his skin like a hot knife through butter, crunching through bone like toothpicks. Such a bite would likely leave the man crippled for life, even powerful magics had little chance of repairing the now ruined hunk of meat; and here in Ferelden you would rarely find such magics outside of the circle.

The man cried out for help, a futile effort in this dilapidated area of town. He was more likely to draw even more savage thieves than anyone who would save him. Standing was out of the question, even with one good leg, so the man relied on his palms to drag his lower half away from the massive mabari. He grunted and squealed in pain as Dog casually matched his slow pace, the animal’s head peering down at him as if he was a toy playing a strange and unexpected game.

Dog stopped, looking back over his shoulder at the blood stained woman who had chased him such a distance. His face still held a puppy-like exuberance, though it was much more solemn than before. The look read not of complete submission, but it certainly held an air of growing respect for the strange female.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.” The man mumbled, still determined to drag himself away from the fate of his fellows. As if seeing it for the first time Dog’s eyes traced the trail of blood coming from the destroyed stump, finding the man and trotting gingerly up to him.

With dainty jaws Dog snagged the collar of the man’s shirt, dragging the man back to Soracha’s feet as if he were little more than a rag-doll. Words of protest and weak effort at resisting gave way to all out bawling, the man loudly lamenting his choices in life. Dog whined, clearly irritated with the man’s sobbing before nudging the bundle latched to the man’s belt.

It jingled like a pocketful of small bells. Dog gave Soracha an enthusiastic bark, spinning once around as if chasing his tail before diving headlong through a wall of the nearest warehouse. To any who had not inspected the wall previously, such an act would seem like witchcraft. Such a beast should not be able to walk through masonry without leaving the wall worse for wear. But upon careful observation it was clear that a circular section the bricks near the base of the wall had long since fallen away, replaced now by a canvas cover, painted to mimic the pattern of the bricks.

Just through the dusty hole lay one of Dog’s secret hideouts, though admittedly, he hadn’t painted the bricks himself. The previous occupant had been one of the nicer humans Dog had encountered, an eccentric thief who called himself Toadstool. Long story short, Toadstool wound up on the wrong side of the wrong people and caught a short swim and a long drink leaving Dog as sole owner and proprietor of the small space.

For an asthmatic the space would have been a nightmare. Cramped behind a stack of miscellaneous crates, the space was just large enough for Dog and a few friends to fit, though it was clear he didn’t entertain much company. Cobwebs hung thick in the corners and laced between the knickknacks and bobbles that lined makeshift shelves Toadstool had set up. Dust covered every visible surface save for the freshly placed paw prints of Dog. In one corner was a trunk that had lost its lid, all manner of items, weapons and jewelry jutted from its mouth and opposite that laid a haphazard pile of pilfered fabric, clothing and blankets formed a makeshift bed. After a quick survey with his nose confirmed everything was in order, the Mabari stuck his head out under the canvas door, giving Soracha another happy yap before disappearing again.

[Sponsored content]