Dragon Age: Broodmother (Chapter 2)

Nora felt the sensation of being carried, but could not rouse from her delirium. The blow had made it impossible to collect her senses, and with little other choice, she once more fell unconscious. Then, as if fate could not decide how it preferred her, she was dropped to the floor. But this floor was different, soft. Wet. While the drop stirred her, it was the stench that alerted her senses. Her eyes flung wide and though the chamber was dim there was light enough to see, but its source remained a mystery. After smell and sight took hold, the cry of muffled moans caught her ears. Scrambling about on all fours, Nora still did not feel steady enough to stand. She turned as quickly as her disorientation would allow, and what lay before her made her heart sink. No one knew what became of the missing villagers, but their fate revealed itself in the chamber’s low light.

Huddled in a trembling circle, the ring of villagers counted at little more than a dozen. So many still missing. Nora reached out a hand to crawl toward them, but paused with an involuntary grimace when her gloved hand clung to the warm, moist floor. She dared not bring it beneath her nose, and calmed the churning in her stomach before continuing to her quarry. Grasping for optimism, Nora was thankful that at the very least she managed to find the lost souls. Her eyes darted about the chamber. No signs of darkspawn. Perhaps the people would know more. Feeling the strength return to her limbs, Nora gradually rose and resumed her approach on foot. However, upon drawing nearer, she could see that something was terribly wrong. Blood and soaked their clothing, and whenever the light caught their eyes, they seemed glassy and lifeless. What cemented the realization was the crusted gore still clinging to the corners of their mouths. By the Maker, what happened to them?

“I am Nora , Captain of the Grey Wardens.” She pressed a hand to her chest, but felt a bow would be too surreal. Some of them rocked in place, others stared off into nothingness. Not one even regarded her presence. The only reply was ragged and uneven breathing. “Listen to me... we have to escape.” Nora maintained composure but the drumming in her chest began to quicken. One of the older women looked up, meeting the captain’s gaze. Still not a word from any of them. “Get up! We need to move!” Nora seized one of the young men’s arms and tugged, but he did not budge.

“They took my daughter... my Gweneth.” The old woman stared at Nora, her glassy eyes piercing through the dim light. As the captain gazed back, she could now make out dark splotches on the crone’s face. Perhaps she was stricken with the cancer. The notion faded quickly as all of their faces now seemed to bear the same discolorations. The taint? What did the darkspawn do to them? Nora stepped back, utterly ignoring the young man now. But her retreat soon found itself halted as her back bumped into something solid.

Shock froze Nora in place. Hot breath washed over her neck, and a swift shove to her back found her once more on hands and knees. Head whipping back, fear filled her eyes. How could a hurlock sneak up on her? It took one heavy footstep closer, and she scrambled toward the ring of villagers, joining the flock. Of course. The darkspawn presence was heavy here, and her senses were still dulled. An ogre could have gotten the drop on her in her current state. Although holding the high ground, the beast made no advance. It simply snorted and turned its back, striding once more into the shadows. As tempting as it would have been to leap on the thing’s back, fighting unarmed and half-dazed was futile. She was a prisoner now.

With the conflict subsided, Nora turned about, facing her new companions in this hellish pit. Out of the dozen, only two were men. Strange, she thought, considering that farmer’s wives were not the expected prisoners of war. Nora had heard of what the darkspawn did to captured mortals, turning them into ghouls. They sought tradesmen to act as obedient slaves, forging weapons and armor. But these women undoubtedly lacked any artisan training. What good were they? Food? Her eyes fell to their lips again. And if they were to be eaten, why feed them? It was all quite disturbing, and the captain’s steely edge began to wane. Thoughts and theories fell apart as the sound of squeaky wheels approached. Once more Nora spun about, peering into the inky corner through which the hurlock exited. Now a pair of hurlocks entered with a rake-thin man between them. His malnourished frame hobbled at the forefront and bore a torch in hand, but Nora’s eyes were transfixed on the darkspawn, and not the hurlocks. Each of the tall beasts pushed a deep, wooden wheelbarrow overflowing with whole and dismembered genlocks. Their blood stained the wood wine red, but it looked like they had not been dead long. Regardless, why were they here? There weren’t any other... bodies. A pallor washed across her face, and Nora slowly stared back at her companions. As the torchlight drew nearer, the shadows of bones cluttered at the villagers’ feet. The taint. This was how they succumbed to its wickedness. Finally the squeaks stop, and the hurlocks immediately upturned their carts, dumping the darkspawn corpses, limbs and organs across the floor. Nora reflexively hopped back as the blood washed toward her feet like the incoming tide.

“The masters bring you sustenance.” Dry words rose from a raspy throat as the man held out his torch over the mess, uncaring as the blood stained his bare feet. The taint weighed heavy on him, and from what little Nora knew of its effects, he would likely be dead inside the week. However, she would not obey their whims. Nora stood defiant, arms across her chest. Her companions did not share her resolve, and reluctantly crawled around her ankles like beaten dogs, plucking a small piece here and there. Had it been anything truly edible, it was still not enough for so many. How often did they come? Were they starving these poor, sick people? To what end?

“No.” Nora stated boldly, drawing her shoulders back as she jutted forth her chest. She would not be tamed by her hated nemesis so easily. “Kill me and be done with it, I am no one’s prisoner.” As if possibly understanding her words, one of the hurlocks strode forth, causing the captain to involuntarily take a tactical step in retreat. It cackled but continued its march past her, grabbing one of the younger women by the hair before pulling her away from the group. She flailed and screamed weakly, but could not break free from its grasp. “What are you doing? Leave her alone!” As Nora went to charge the fiend, the second hurlock buried a knee in her gut, forcing the wind from her lungs. The captain fell to her hands and knees, and grunted as the beast’s boot planted onto the square of her back, keeping her down. Nora witnessed what happened next in disgust.

The hurlock with girl in tow finally stopped by the remaining heaps of darkspawn. With the gripping hand he tilted her head back, forcing her mouth open in painful agony. His free hand dug into the pile, searching for buried treasure. Ripping a strip of indeterminable flesh free, it wasted no time stuffing it into the girl’s mouth. She immediately spit it out, but the darkspawn are relentless. Again it picked up the saliva-slick flesh and forced it into her bloodied face. This time, however, it clamped its filthy paw over her lips, still tilting her head back. Nora shuddered as the lump slid down the girl’s throat. Tears streamed down her blotched face, leaving clean streaks along her cheeks. And even after the horrible darkspawn flesh settled in the girl’s stomach, the process began anew. Another lump of dark, bloody flesh found its way into the girl’s mouth, and even as she kicked out her legs, the burly beast held her mouth shut until the revolting sinew sank into her belly. This time, the lump rose in her throat, and spatters of dark vomit sprayed between the creatures fingers. Its response was cold and clear. The hurlock merely tilted her head back farther and waited until she swallowed the regurgitated mass down again into her stomach. Likely frightened of choking, the girl did not vomit again. More and more genlock pieces found their way to her mouth against her will.

Why. Why were they doing this? What twisted pleasure could these mindless beasts find in such torture? It felt like hours before the feeding slowed. By this time, the girl had ceased her kicking and sat still, numb to the nigh unending stream of tainted meat. Nora had seen the poor girl consume more food, if one could call it that, than anyone in her life. A roundness formed along her middle where her overstuffed stomach pressed against her dirtied dress. Small, soft groans rose from her gore encrusted lips as the hurlock finally released her hair. His partner lifted the boot on Nora’s back, but before she could even consider retaliating, it punted the top of its foot into her stomach, knocking her aside in another fit of wheezing. Both women lay in helpless heaps as the two darkspawn and their ghoulish slave exited the room. None of the villagers spoke a word as they each nibbled at the flesh, if only to quiet their hunger. Finally able to breathe the foul air again, Nora crawled toward the swollen young woman. Never keen on comforting others, the captain tried her hardest to console the poor thing, taking her head in her lap and brushing strands of sticky, unclean hair out of her face. The girl’s arms lay at her side, and if not for the labored breathing or gurgles rising from her taut middle, one might think she was dead. Nora reached out a hand, hesitated, but finally rested it atop the girl’s stomach. Maker’s breath, it was tight. Any more of the foul meat and the monster could have ruptured her stomach. It must have ached something awful, so Nora did the only thing she could think of. She began stroking slow, methodic circles over the young woman’s stomach and although unsettling, the girl began to moan softly. The Warden was powerless now, and she would do anything she could to help until she hatched a plan or aid arrived, though the latter seemed a fool’s hope now.