My official first fick about Dragon Age Series! WHEEE!
If nothing else, I love how they re-designed Qunari on Dragon Age II The design is more individualistic compared to the ones on Dragon Age: Origins where they looked just much larger men (even fit they have explained the reason to be some genetic thing, there's just no freaking way all of them were in Ferelden during the Blight!)
Way to go Bioware!
Disclaimer: Me? Own Dragon Age II?... BHAHAHAHHAAA!
WARNING! Contains strong spoilers, mild OOC:ness (maybe?), mature themes and nudity, blood, drama and some violence, so be warned ^^
WILL OF THE QUN
When she had accepted his challenge, she had been confident that she would win.
She wasn't anymore.
Her breath was harsh as she dodged yet another complex set of moves and hits Arishok tried to land on her, showing none of the loss of fatigue she was feeling while the sweat dripped down her forehead.
How long had they been dueling now? An hour? Five? Half a day? She couldn't tell anymore, but it was starting to take its toll on her. Both of them had bruises and cuts littered around their bodies and, while they didn't seem to affect him at all, she was starting to loose her energy.
Her body was aching and tired; her legs feeling like stones and her movements slowing down greatly.
She wanted nothing more than lay down and forfeit, but she knew she couldn't.
She couldn't for it would mean that the City and Isabela would be taken.
After a quick glance at the pirate standing on the sidelines with her other companions, looks of worry marring their faces, she made a quick backflip when Arishok brought his massive waraxe and blade down at her, making the floor crack from the heavy blow. Sprinting around him, she managed to make a deep cut on his side; satisfied as she heard him grunt and took one step backward.
Not much, but it was still something.
She grimaced when he pulled yet another potion from his bottomless sash, gulping it down with one go, before charging at her direction like enraged bull with a battle cry. She was able to twirl behind him, but when she tried to sank her dagger on his back, he hit her stomach with his elbow; sending her flying backward. She grunted when she hit the floor, her eyes widening and rolling on side when his blade almost cut her in half; moving to stand as he pulled his weapon from the floor.
Their breaths were harsh as they looked one another; her more than his from the fatigue, which wasn't good.
She was in trouble.
She herself had ran out of potions long ago and unless she took him down on the next few moments, she would collapse. He seemed to know it too; charging at her and attacking her with more vigor than before which made her grind her teeth together and eyes narrow into slits.
Had he been going easy on her before? It made sense to her. Go easy on opponent, lull them into security and wait till they are tired, before going at them with full strength.
Why hadn't she thought fo doing that?
She was not a seasoned Qunari warlord, that's what. It had been foolish to think this would be easy for her. Her opponent wasn't an Arishok because of the massive horns he had. He was a bloody warrior and good one at that! He, no doubt, had the experience of the years she didn't possess; becoming finest tactician and soldier the Qunari could ever hope to have as their war went on.
...Why on earth was she complimenting her attacker?
Her thoughts were cut short when she barely moved away from his reach as he tried to slice her in two, her feet stumbling a pit as she staggered backward.
"You're become slow, Hawke." Arishok rumbled, swinging his weapons with ease while the two of them circled one another; observing each other with critical and calculating look while taking precisive steps," your attacks have no strength behind them. You are fatigued; tired." She scowled and gritted her teeth at him; trying to decide if he was taunting her or just stating the obvious.
Knowing him it was the later.
"You won't last long." He didn't have to tell her that. She knew it already.
"Maybe." She was bluffing and from the look he gave her, he knew it too," doesn't mean that I wouldn't give her damnest for the fight, though." She never would.
She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
Ignoring the throbbing pain, she stared at him defiantly while flipping around the daggers she held; gripping their handles tightly as she sprinted toward him and he tensed as she approached him, ducking under his arm when he raised and brought his blade down; bringing one dagger to his side while digging another to his shoulder, untill he threw her away from him, making her roll around the floor like a ball of yarn.
She scrambled up and moved away from his reach as he advanced toward her once again, snarl on his face and nearly taking her head off with his gigantic axe. The axe came a pit too close to her, cutting few strands of her hair from her head; making her mutter curses under her breath, before she bolted away from him.
She kept on moving away from him; finding it harder and harder to dodge and evade his attacks and finding it smarter to stay closer to him so he wouldn't be able to move so freely with his weapons; using his own strength and weight to her advantage, but also knowing it was only a question of time when her body would give out.
And then her time ran out.
She had become too tired and her movements were too sluggish and glumsy to do a backflip again, leaving herself wide open and vulnerable to him. She saw the oncoming blade of the axe, but she wasn't able to dodge in time; feeling something cold touch her side.
The time seemed to still for her; her mouth parting slightly and her eyes widening in wonder when she saw the spray of red flying through the air and as it splattered against him, coloring his grey skin of his face with bright red.
...Was that blood?
Was that her blood marring his face like a grotesque warpaint?
She looked down on herself, seeing the wide wound on her side gushing, and then looked up to him non-comprehendedly. He breathed hard, letting out an loud roar of victory, before lifting his enormous foot and kicking her on the stomach, making her eyes widen even more and slide across the floor while she kept staring at him with wide eyes; her head smashing against one of the pillars with a sickening crack, finally forcing her eyes closed from the harsh impact and register pain.
The whole room seemed to gasp, her friends calling her name while the Qunari roared with victory as she let out an strangled groan. The blow on her stomach had made all air escape her and made it harder to breathe, making her struggle to inhale while letting out wheezing sounds.
Blood gushed from her dripping side and pooled around her into a large puddle on the marble floor. She fought to keep her eyes open, finding it to me more harder than it should be. Her entire body hurt and felt suddenly so weak and spend; dull ache forming on her head while everything in the room seemed to whirl in her vision, but she still could recognize the forms of Fenris and Varric appearing on her range of sight, concern on their faces, with Anders; his hands glowing with welcoming warmth as he summoned his healing magic, deep concentration on his frowning face.
While watching healer on work, her mind started to register of what had happened just a moment ago; feel of defeat and failure settling in her heart.
She had lost.
"Hang in there, Hawke." Varric murmured next to her, gingerly wiping away some blood from her cheek while Ander tried to close the massive wound on her side.
"Stay with us, Hawke..." Was that Fenris who spoke? Everything was becoming more hazy to her.
"Don't close your eyes Hawke." Anders mumbled while working, telling her to keep her eyes open no matter what as he worked; to keep fighting.
"Tired..." She mumbled non-coherently, her eyes unfocused as her gaze flickered around the room.
She was tired of fighting.
The past years she had kept running around; solving everyone else's problems and not slowing dow even for a second.
Maybe now she could finally rest.
As if sensing her thought, the glow on Anders' hands became more intense; sweat dripping down his forehead as he kept healing her; mumbling to himself while others had gathered around them in respectable distance to give him room to work on her wounds.
"Come on, Hawke." He muttered, his eyes flashing blue for a moment," don't do this; not like this." Why not? Like on Varric's tales, this would be heroic ending.
A fierce warmaiden slain by Qunari warlord in a single combat. Not better end for a hero.
Her head rolled on the side; the voices sounding like she was underwater.
Her half-open eyes looked toward the Arishok, whose men had started to gather behind him; his keen, hawk-like golden eyes piercing through her own silver ones. Was that her blood decorating his face like a warpaint? it was hard to tell when she was so disoriented. He was speaking, that much she could tell. He was shouting orders to his men, who moved to herd people in the room; few of them moving toward her. She could hear protests of her companions, but couldn't see.
Her vision was fading.
She blinked tiredly; her hazy eyes taking in his beautiful golden eyes, before her eyes fluttered shut and the darkness overtook her.