Krios – 7 Days Ago
(Frostback Mountains)
Twenty one silhouettes trudged through the knee high snow as the blizzard raged around them. The children quietly wept as the icy hale bit at their skin. Two days they had been travelling and although they were so close to their destination they had lost over a third of their small clan. The weather was horrific, even for the mountain people who had spent most of their lives with snow beneath their feet. Two men and mother and her child had been lost at different times due to losing their footing, having on all occasions simply vanished from sight before anyone could help them. But nature wasn’t their biggest threat… the darkspawn was. Only a week before the clan had been living day-to-day life as usual, but sudden eruptions of darkspawn from the mountainside now forced the Darkhold Clan to flee to their allies to the North, to the Clan of Hafterhold. “Do you think our messengers reached them Krios?” asked Monetta, the shaman’s bodyguard and Krios’ cousin. The heavy set woman had an unusual look of worry upon her face and her knuckles were glowing white from how fiercely she gripped her spear.
“Our men are strong and fleet footed; I’m sure Hafterhold is sending reinforcements out to meet us as we speak.” Replied Krios clasping a reassuring hand on Monetta’s shoulder. They walked for a few more paces before Krios stopped in his tracks and looked back. His eyes widened and his hands quickly grasped at his axes. “Darkspawn approaching!” he barked, causing the clans warriors to form a defensive circle around the caravan. Quickly navigating his way into the middle of the crowd Krios made his way to Brandir, the clan’s Jarl.
“Krios! What’s the situation?” asked Brandir in a loud and commanding voice. It was an attempt to appear strong to his clan but his weak stature betrayed him and so those near him focused more on Krios.
“This my old friend is where we depart.” replied Krios in an apologetic tone.
“Depart?! But-? You cannot leave us! The clan needs you! You’re a grey warden! You’re supposed to protect people from the Darkspawn!” Brandir desperately stuttered.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing. The Darkspawn have no business up on these mountain slopes, nothing to attract them or draw their attention… nothing but me. Continue forward to Hafterhold and I will draw them away.” and at that, Krios turned and sprinted off behind them without giving anyone the chance to say their goodbyes. He told himself it was better that way, that the quicker he got away from them the safer they would be. The reality however was that he was scared to leave them, scared that he might never see their faces again and that was why he had already stayed with them much longer than he should have.
Krios – Present Time
Denerim
Krios gently strolled along the eerily empty streets of Denerim, the morning dew dampening the earth beneath his feet as the thin veil of fog began to fade with the rising sun. A few trickles of life appeared in some buildings, be it a guard on route to their morning shift or a baker firing up their oven for their first loaves of the day. Many people might have called his journey serene, but for him it was still foreign and his muscles were unconsciously tensed from the uncomfortable feeling that being boxed in gave him. He was used to huts, caves and even old ruins, but they were relatively small and controllable – the city was not.
“Morning.” said a passing guard with a curious look. It caught Krios off guard and rather than responding Krios simply continued on towards his destination, his trail of thought lost. It took him some time to navigate the streets and find his way to the south east outskirt of the Palace district and there seemed to be more signs of life by the time he got there. His destination was a large 3 story manor with its north and west face exposed to the street. The manor’s other faces where hidden behind a high stone wall that’s top was noticeably slick with oil, and which Krios knew contained a nasty little ditch on the other side. The building itself was one of the older buildings of the city but had been well maintained (or least in the recent past) and as such looked noticeably better to some of the buildings in sight to the east. Upon reaching the buildings only external door Krios was surprised to be met by two guards, neither of whom he recognised.
“Halt sir, what is your business here?” asked the larger of two men.
“This is still the Grey Warden Compound, isn’t it” Krios placed his hands on his waist, just above his axes.
“Aye sir. The Blackstone Irregulars provide security to this premise of theirs. Now I’ll ask you again: what is your business here?” The two guards now also felt their hands slipping closer to their weapons in anticipation for a fight.
“I’m a Grey Warden. The name’s Krios. Both Duncan and Mayson know me well.” Krios replied. He didn’t know who the Blackstone Irregulars were, but he doubted they could have posed a threat to the wardens even if their Fereldan numbers well low. Duncan was a cunning man after all and he had King Calain’s favour.
“Ah, the Avvar barbarian. Mayson told us about you in case you ever showed up; you don’t come here as often as the other lot. Go right in, Mayson’s probably reading in the dining room.” Both parties stopped moving towards their weapons but the tension hardly faded, in good part because the guard had just called Krios a barbarian. Without saying anything else Krios walked past them through the large oak door, only giving a cold nod in thanks for letting him pass.
The entry hall seemed smaller than he remembered yet he knew little had changed. The same white and blue warden heraldry adorned each wooden pillar as he made his way along. The goat horn braziers still fluttered with barely enough fire to light the room. And the same large seats that spanned the edges of the room still sat unused and were covered in a thin layer of dust. The Wardens rarely had visitors and even when they did they were more likely to host them in another, smaller and more practical part of the building. Reaching the end the hall Krios turned into the dinning room to yet another familiar site, an old man sat reading at the crack of dawn. The man was in his early sixties, had short neat greying hair and had a figure that suggested he was still in fairly good health (at least for his age). “Hello Mayson, it’s been a while.” Krios said as he leant against the doorframe. The old man raised his head and grew a tremendous smile at the sight of his old friend.
“I was wondering when you would show your face Krios.”
