Title: What Elves Are Worth
Author: The Phoenix King
Game: Dragon Age: Origins
Summary: As Denerim falls, the elves of the local Alienage face their finest hour... and perhaps their last. Entry for the "Thursday Prompt: Let's Play" contest.
Overall Rating: M/R
Wordcount: 669 words
Disclaimer: Dragon Age characters, settings, and all in-game dialogue property of Bioware.
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What Elves Are Worth
From clear across the Waking Sea, Denerim could be seen burning, its death proclaimed to the world by the towering flames gorged fat upon homes and warehouses and citadels alike, sending a rain of ash down on both the city’s stubborn defenders and the rampaging darkspawn seeking to complete their conquest. Titanic efforts had been made to evacuate the civilian population, and every overburdened fishing vessel, cargo ship and man-o-war that crawled towards the open sea and safety paid for their escape in the blood of the city’s garrison. Later history spoke of the thousands of innocent lives saved, of the heroism of the soldiers who protected them and the mariners who got them away, and how they would prove essential to rebuilding Denerim in the days to come.
Yet of all those able to flee the war-ravaged city, the elves of the Denerim Alienage were not among them.
They would not run. Too much had transpired in the past year for them to give in now, the prospect of death at darkspawn hands nothing after living through Bann Vaughn’s cruelties, Arl Howe’s purge or the Tevinter slaver operation, much less a life of hopeless want. Better they die here, every last man, woman and child, then be driven from the only home they’d ever known. Better this small flame of their once-proud people be snuffed out entirely than endure the final indignity of exile. The ramshackle tenements and depressed shacks of the Alienage made for a poor home, but it was home nonetheless, and they would die in its defense.
And so they made their stand, the Alienage transforming itself into a place of war. Apartment buildings became miniature fortresses, with archers posted at every window and rooftop, while hastily constructed barricades of old furniture and debris reinforced the gates at the bridges leading into the ghetto. Illegal stockpiles of spears and bows painstakingly gathered after the purge found no shortage of volunteers eager to wield them, the accumulated pain and frustration of generations spurring even the lowliest elf to take up arms in defiance of the coming darkness. And in the middle of it all was Shianni, taking up the role of commander with aplomb, and the genuine pride Sagramor Tabris held for his cousin burned all the fiercer for it. “You’ve become quite a capable leader,” he remarked, standing beside her at the Alienage’s southern entrance.
“Having a Grey Warden for a cousin tends to set a good example,” she replied, confident even as the first of the enemy approached the bridgehead. That was good; her courage was emulated by those who followed her, and they would need that strength to win the fight ahead. “You said a darkspawn general was coming here?”
“One of two leading the attack against the city. We killed the first in the lower markets; we take out this one, and it should disrupt the horde long enough for us to reach the Archdemon itself.”
“And finally end this, I hope.” Shianni’s bow creaked, signalling a hundred others to draw. “I’ll try not to keep you and your team long, then.”
“Don’t worry, Shianni.” Beside him, those of his little company he’d brought into the city proper stood ready, their presence banishing all doubts. He had not come so far and faced so much only to perish where his journey began. They would win here and see the city saved, its people protected, elves included. No other outcome was acceptable. “We’re not going anywhere.”
The first darkspawn howls rose above the crackle of the fires, and ash-darkened skies became blacker still as arrows cut through the night in response, burying deep into tainted flesh. “This is our home, and no one will take it from us!” Shianni cried, a thousand voices echoing her defiance. “Are you ready to live without fear?”
The milling horde storming along the south bridge drowned out the defenders’ reply, but Sagramor knew the answer. And soon, the darkspawn would know it too…