Chapter Eighty-Five: Resolutions
As we moved forward, we fought another handful of darkspawn.
I am actually getting sick of fighting darkspawn, surprise surprise.
With so many of us, basically only the mages and Alistair, Oghren, and Sten got a hit in. Alistair smote --
smited?
-- an Emissary, leaving him stunned and with precious little mana for me to gather; I gave him a nasty look, and he chuckled. There were no ogres --
honestly, how do ogres even fit through the ridiculously small, winding tunnels anyway?
-- so the risk was actually minimal.
There were several traps I wasn't expecting: Aedan and Zev took turns disarming pit traps, flame traps, and even arrow turrets. The two rogues seemed to have some sort of competition going on for the disarming;
whatever gets them through this sane, I suppose.
We did have to fight some golems, though the room filled with gas was less of a problem than predicted: Shale walked in, turned off the gas, and the golems didn't react to her at all. Then the mages froze the golems in place from outside the door, and Shale shattered them. We had to listen to disparaging comments on the weakness of flesh creatures that needed to breathe to survive, but it was worth it. There were some darkspawn corpses on the ground, so we knew that at least a few spawn had made it that far; they were the last we saw, however, and were so old and desiccated that the disgusting miasma of taint that made the rest of the Deep Roads stink was almost completely absent. It was wonderful.
The next set of golems were a little harder to take down; Oghren, with his massive hammer, and Shale were the only melee fighters able to do much damage. The mages did better -- a little ice went a long way -- but still. It made me worry about the fight once we reached Caridin. I mentioned my concern to Aedan, and he agreed; we began actively looking for blunt weapons for the rest of us as we walked. Alistair ended up with a mace, and the other melee fighters all either found clubs, hammers, or maces to carry as back-up weapons. They lacked the enchantments of everyone's primary gear, but were much better than chipping their blades, which was all they'd be able to do otherwise. I didn't take a blunt back-up weapon, not that it mattered much; I didn't really have the strength to hit hard enough anyway. I'd be lucky to disturb some dust if I hit a golem with something. I could barely even pick up Oghren's hammer.
The spirit anvil puzzle was a total pain. The spirits were able to shrug off a surprising amount of damage, and unlike the hack in game that I'd found, the spirit anvil was only interactable once for each spirit we killed, not four times. Which meant we had to go around, and around, and around killing spirits. And kept getting blasted with lightning while we were at it. Poor Anders had to give up on damage and just focus on healing electrical burns, even though he was one of the more effective at hurting the spirits. Luckily there were a couple of Lyrium deposits around; when he was out of mana, he could just run his fingers over the crystals and power back up.
Finally the anvil broke, and the massive, four-sided stone face-thing actually fell from where it was anchored. We defeated a final round of apparently very angry spirits, before all of us collapsed, exhausted, on the floor. We'd have paused there and had a rest, I think, except we were all nervous that somehow Branka was going to find a way to sneak around us and get to Caridin before we could. So we picked up our weary selves and worked our way toward the exit opposite of where we entered.
Down another long, narrow hallway we finally reached Caridin. The room was much like in-game; there was an enormous piece of equipment on a cliff projecting out over a river of lava below, a huge monument to those who'd been sacrificed to create the golems, and a massive, armoured golem, at least two feet taller than Shale, standing at the end of a corridor made up of deactivated golems.
We approached Caridin, who was far more surprised by our presence than we were by his; Sereda stepped forward, explaining what was happening. As expected, Branka interrupted the discussion, and she and Caridin ended up in a shouting match over the fate of the Anvil of the Void. Any uncertainties regarding my story for Oghren, Shale, or the other dwarves, were cleared up, as Caridin confirmed that dwarves were indeed used to create golems, and except in accidental cases like Caridin himself and Shale, could only function if someone held their control rod, afterwards. So they had no life, no free will, no independence whatsoever.
This, of course, offended Shale to no end, though Caridin admitted she'd known the consequences when she volunteered. But everyone was horrified to hear that people were forced to go through it after the volunteers ran out. Branka claimed she wouldn't do that...but Caridin had tried to stop them as well.
There's just no way this isn't ending in a fight
.
I noticed Zev inching behind Branka while everyone talked; Aedan was more animated than usual, trying to keep attention on himself and off of the assassin. I headed over to Oghren, hoping to keep him out of the fight. Regardless of what Branka had turned into, Oghren didn't deserve to have to kill his wife. When Branka eventually got sick of arguing with Aedan, when she realised she wasn't going to get her way, she pulled out a handful of golem control rods.
Zev, expecting it, lodged a small poisoned dagger into her shoulder, through the gap in her armour, strategically paralyzing her arm and taking the control rods from her suddenly limp hand. I covered Oghren's eyes with a curse as Sereda killed the poisoned, disabled dwarf. The fight took only seconds, and everyone seemed to breathe a great sigh of relief as it was over.
Except Oghren, of course. In game, with limited dialogue options, I found it was hard to remember sometimes that we'd just killed his wife; looking at his unnaturally somber face, and watching him storm off shouting curses to the Ancestors and anyone else who would listen, it was impossible to forget. I wished there'd been something I could have done to change it...but Branka really couldn't return to Orzammar, not ever. I let Oghren go, knowing he'd need some time before he was able to talk about it.
Finally somewhere safe, everyone took the opportunity to rest and relax. I saw Aedan and Sereda talking to Caridin, and then Aedan left the two to continue the discussion without him. We decided to camp for a night in Caridin's snug little haven, for once not needing to worry about darkspawn. There was even a sink, of sorts, with cold running water, which we used to replenish our water skins, and then take turns washing up with. When I looked surprised, Caridin reminded me Bownammar had been used by dwarves long before he'd set up his gauntlet of traps. He didn't need the water, but didn't see the point in destroying it. It wasn't possible to get truly clean, with a shallow basin of water, no soap, and no cloths, but it still felt heavenly, even cold. Even Oghren grumblingly agreed to tidy up a little bit.
"What I wouldn't give for a shower," I whined, and Alistair grinned at me in agreement.
"What's a shower?" asked Sereda. I explained, and she looked intrigued.