Aestrix (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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pixiethreads2015-10-03 08:32 pm
aestrix) wrote in pixiethreads2015-10-03 08:32 pm
Entry tags:
Exit
There are two exits to Orzammar.
One leads to the surface. There, the sky stretches infinitely far and is so big it looks like it'll swallow something as measly as a single dwarf whole, never to be seen again. There, the elements change on a whim - baking sun and freezing snow and chilling rain and wind so fast one might think they'll be swept up and carried off to the ends of the world. Filled with humans and elves and qunari and mages and templars and priests and soldiers and kings and queens and Fereldans and Free Marchers and Orlesians and Tevinters and Nevarrans and Antivans and all of them are trying to kill each other. The castes, if they can even be called such, are ever shifting and opaque to the outside observer, and change based on whim and circumstance. One never knows where they stand in the world like a dwarf knows their caste, one never knows their future like a dwarf knows Orzammar. Poor fools die, betrayed for a glint of coin by those they thought their brother, and then left in a ditch to rot, not even the comfort of Stone above their head.
The other leads to the Deep Roads.
Of the two, the exit to the Deep Roads is far, far worse.
The escort taking Stalas away takes him to that one.
Pyral Harrowmont stands in front of the door, eyes sad. He is the only one present to see the once-prince off.
One leads to the surface. There, the sky stretches infinitely far and is so big it looks like it'll swallow something as measly as a single dwarf whole, never to be seen again. There, the elements change on a whim - baking sun and freezing snow and chilling rain and wind so fast one might think they'll be swept up and carried off to the ends of the world. Filled with humans and elves and qunari and mages and templars and priests and soldiers and kings and queens and Fereldans and Free Marchers and Orlesians and Tevinters and Nevarrans and Antivans and all of them are trying to kill each other. The castes, if they can even be called such, are ever shifting and opaque to the outside observer, and change based on whim and circumstance. One never knows where they stand in the world like a dwarf knows their caste, one never knows their future like a dwarf knows Orzammar. Poor fools die, betrayed for a glint of coin by those they thought their brother, and then left in a ditch to rot, not even the comfort of Stone above their head.
The other leads to the Deep Roads.
Of the two, the exit to the Deep Roads is far, far worse.
The escort taking Stalas away takes him to that one.
Pyral Harrowmont stands in front of the door, eyes sad. He is the only one present to see the once-prince off.