Dragon Age: Tales
"Tell me where the Wizards are boy."
The morning my family was slain before me I was but a child. I was being carried under the arms of some man and then thrown into the back of a cart that was caged. Then all the adults and the elders were brought out into the road and sacrificed one by one. A large man with an antlered hood recited a rhyming phrase while spitting blood and then with a clap of his hand a member from my village died.
There were ten children and me. I wasn’t the oldest, a girl named Shala was. The cart drove for days. We could never understand what the people who had taken us said and the cage was whipped if we began to chatter too much. We were taken from our homeland to a place we’d never seen before. Some village far over a mountain range where large camps of people gathered, and many slave auctions were held.
I was sold to some sort of leader who had many men surrounding him. They all sort of complimented each other as if their village had a dress code. Blues and greens tied off turbans and waist cloths, deep purple and blue pants and shirts, with light green pointed shoes. Their mustaches were pointed and they braided their beards.
For many years I was grown and groomed into several different trades. Cobbling, blade sharpening, and farm work kept me busy without any thoughts to myself. Until it was discovered that I possessed the gift. The family I lived with was intruded upon by an elder of the village and his armored companion. They took me from my slavery, paying a handsome fee to keep the silence of the family I was purchased from.
My life passed before me as I grew into a young man and my powers matured. I became obedient to my new owners, to complete subservience. Eventually I was able to aptly defend myself with some of the magic this mage would teach me. Also the armored man would take me to the fields and test me with a sword. Exercise and practice became my life.
If ever caught off in my own mind I was whipped, burned, and worse. The wizard took pleasure in delivering these wicked treatments. Sometimes the knight would give me an armored slap when swords wouldn’t work out, or if I’d tire. The worst was being confined to a silent and pitch black room for days at a time. The light would be blinding, and my lesson would be to become stronger.
My plans from the beginning were constantly nullified as I lacked the heart to follow through on any decisions. Every year I tried to think up some way to escape, but I was never in the right place. Till around my seventeenth birth year. When I discovered I had the strength and the will to do so. My life was set on becoming some sort of tool for destruction, and I wanted nothing to do with it. The last day the knight took me to the fields, he tested me with restraint. I however did not test correctly and ended him by pushing my blade deep into his heart. I left him on the field to find the salty wizard.
Elmodrel was the name of the old man. He whittled his time in the long library of the West wing of his largely uninhabited mansion, save for a few slaves. Finding him was simple as he could not travel fast. When I did find him I put on everything. The bubble, the skin, I hit him with the lances and destroyed his will to fight with my every parry, but I killed him and ended him with my blade. Even though this was a different wizard, I recited from memory the same incantation of the villager at the road when I was a child. Then, with a merciless full fledged swipe, I lopped the wizards head off in the casual death ceremony of delivering a person to their gods.
I left that place in search of more people like the ones I had just killed. It seemed that those in positions of leadership were often times users of magic. All I had to do was make it to the next town and get a lead on the local magic users. There was a time when I cared and made certain that the person I was going to kill was not a bad person, but in the end I compromised with: all magic users are bad people.