Storming the Castle - Main Hall

It had been a rather smooth ride from Lothering, until then. Not only the Wardens had agreed to keep him around, but it happened to be the exact moment when the order was preparing to move in to a new old fortress of theirs: that was some unexpectedly nice timing. Damien had kept silent for most of the journey; the weather itself did not encourage conversation. Each man and woman sought to shelter their faces from the drizzle, and it turned out hard to blend in his newfound company. Although not all were equally loquacious, the Wardens in the party had a lot of catching up to do, making it somewhat difficult to fit in. And even if some among the non-wardens looked like reasonable fellows, with a brand new horizon before him, Damien truly needed some thinking time. The party however turned sour pretty fast, and some time before they could reach the gates of the keep itself, the elf noticed the Wardens were getting more and more anxious. He had never met one of their numbers before, but had read enough about the order to know what could possibly transpire behind their half-concealed nervousness.

Darkspawns meant the warrior would don his mask once more. Indoor fighting meant the rider would have to get off his horse, reluctantly. Ordinarily, he would have downright refused to go on foot against an unknown number of hostiles, but today was an exception: against such an enemy, the fighters alongside whom he would battle were incomparably more reliable than his former comrades. He would stand beside none other than the Hero of Ferelden herself; a living bulwark named Bowen; and Wolfram, whom Damien at this point knew only to be an experienced mage. The odds were more stacked up in his favor than they had ever been, and he himself had much to prove today. Hopping off the back of his mount, his feet hit the mud with barely a splash, as if the warrior was made of feathers. He tied his horse to a nearby tree, leaving his heavier gear behind, and marched to the fray with what amounted to half-an-armor, his helmet, short sword, and a shield large enough to cover him from the ankles to the neck.

Damien confidently thought himself ready, until Nygozy uttered a cryptic statement and a crate came down crashing open on the ground.

“What the fuck,” Damien muttered between his teeth. “Giant spiders ?”

Understanding the role they were to assume, the warrior relaxed quickly. It wasn’t his first time interacting with such creatures, thanks to the hedge mage with whom he fought in the Blight. But no matter how used you were to seeing them -and Damien only fought alongside them once- they were always a nasty sight to behold, and a disturbing surprise. But despite the morose air that seemed to hang around the Wardens witnessing the chaos descending upon comrades and civilians, Damien, not really bothered with empathy or compassion, was feeling playful. Thus after a second of disgust at the sight of the spiders, a smirk promptly pulled his lips, as he looked briefly at Nygozy. For a leader, Damien had expected her to be more voluble, but he could now understand how this was irrelevant: she just knew the people she was travelling with, and acted in consequence. She simply made people want to follow her.

“I mean, that looks fucking metal, I like it.” He strapped his helmet and clicked his mask in place, “but taking care of that is not going to be an easy task. Even the survivors will try and take them down.” His eyes turned back to the battle, as he continued, beyond the courtyard up to the hall’s gates, “oh well, they can afford to lose a couple of legs. I only have two of 'em, and do mighty fine.”

“Now,” Damien drew his sword in a fluid motion. “Let’s get this party started, shall we ? I don’t know about you, but I have a killcount to keep up.”

That said, the warrior dashed ahead under cover of wood and brass, bashing and stabbing a clear way to the hall.