***O*O*O*O***
Denerim must burn!
He was on his last mission before his Joining should come, his fate decided in the larder of his family castle. Promised to join the Order But when he and the others, one junior Grey Warden of a name Alistair and two other recruits, Ser Jory and Daveth, were ambushed by a big group of Darkspawn. Before they could defend themselves properly, they were overwhelmed.
One od the Hurlock hit him with a mace over head. Last thing he remembered before he fell unconscious was Alistair shouting "retreat!" and leading the other two away, leaving him behind.
At first, he tried to escape and to stop the change from human to Hurlock. Hell, he was supposed to be a Grey Warden recruit, how could he let himself to get captured? Struggling against the Taint, even when the others, captured after the battle at Ostagar, fell to it, becoming snarling Hurlocks themselves.
Slowly, his will to escape, his will to not fell to the Taint weakened and the corruption of his body and mind started.
'You were meant for great things, my puppet,' sang a voice, a beautiful melody in his head. 'And I will help you to achieve them.'
"How could you do that?" he asked loudly. The voice in his mind chuckled. 'Easily, my puppet, easily. You need to do nothing but one thing - submit yourself to the Taint. And I promise you to get the chance of those great things, to get a chance of your revenge.'
Revenge. He wanted to avenge his family. And he wanted to avenge himself, to show that blond bastard that no one gets left behind. He himself had to do that, his father commanding him to it. But Alistair didn't have to do that. He shouldn't have left him behind, let him be captured. Now he will pay.
Raising through the ranks in the Darkspawn horde had been slow and difficult process, many of the other Darkspawn disliking him for his way-too-much human-like face. His face didn't loose its likeness - it still looked like Aedan Cousland, although it was covered with Blight caused bruises. Hurlocks, Ogres, Genlocks, Shrieks... all of them hate him for it, hate him for being different, hate him for remembering what caused him to become one of the Hurlocks himself, hating him for the Archdemon talked to him without anyone else listening.
And so he starts wearing a helmet, hiding behind the shield the iron of it offers. Becoming an Alpha finally offers him a chance of showing those lessers he's better, he has been chosen by Him himself. Small groups of elves, dwarves, mages and He knows what else gave him opportunity to hone his fighting skills, earning him a rank of Hurlock Vanguard, the one to whom He speaks and whom He grants some of His skills. 'Do not fail me, puppet,' warns the singing voice in his head, making him shudder.
It's actually his plan to send just a smaller part of the horde to Redcliffe, while the bigger part marches on Denerim. 'I know the city defenses, my lord,' he whispers to Him, 'I will lead the attack, if only you let me.'
And He lets him, the Darkspawn forces striking upon the city with power and brutality no one expected, least of all the people in the city. He leads the assault of the city in His name.
But then, something unexpected happens. 'Vanguard,' oh, how pleasant it is to hear Him call him Vanguard instead of puppet, 'crush the humans at the city gates. Show them we know no mercy!' The song in his head changes to dragon's roar. No mercy. He hasn't been shown any, he won't show any.
Crushing the guards is easy, even easier after he binds several thralls, genlocks and ogre, to his will, to fulfill wishes of Lord. The traitorous bastard, named Rendon Howe, lies by his feet in puddle of his own blood and he only barely stops himself from throwing his helmet off and lick some of the red liquid which covers him like red raindrops.
Voice in his head says there is more opposition in the previously Market area and the Alienage. Under his helmet he sneers at the thought of more combat and more blood of the so called innocent. In His name the streets will be crimson with rivers of blood. No one can stop them.
Mothers of Chantry meet their end on the tip of his sword, dwarves crushed beneath ogre's foot or slammed by its huge fist. Nobleman, whom he only barely knew from the few Landsmeets he ever visited, bann Teagan Guerrin, if he remembers correctly, leads the opposition here. With dark chuckle he thinks about his mother saying that if she had a daughter, bann Teagan of Rainesferre would have been her choice of son-in-law. Now the dream-come-true-son-in-law will end like everyone else who dared to oppose them.
Storming the Alienage and Palace area is easier than he would have thought. 'Come, Vanguard. The last Grey Warden retreated to the Fort above the city, sensing me there, as his comrade hurt me and forced me to land there,' sings the voice, now laced with pain. 'I'm coming, my lord. The Grey Warden won't see the next day!' he promises and makes haste, thralls barely able to keep up with him.
And then he sees them. Archdemon in all his glory, spitting flames on the humans who dared to attack Him. One of them is a mage, a woman. He can sense a strange magic in her. A mabari warhound. A woman in Chantry robe, yielding a bow. And the bastard who left him.
His eyes start to see in red as he runs towards the mage, sending the thralls after the last of Grey Wardens allies, be it werewolves, elves, dwarves or golems. For a mage she was hard to kill. Even she fell under his blade, tho. The Chantry sister, her blue eyes full of fear he savored as the best quality wine, is tough opponent, as well as the mabari. The last of the attackers is that bastard Alistair, wearing a templar armor, yielding long sword and a shield with Grey Warden Griffon on it.
With his fury unleashed he places hit after hit on the man, soon shattering his shield. Another hit knocking his sword aside, creating an opening to his blade.
Alistair lies by his feet, just like the traitor Howe had. He looks up as he towers over him. In his eyes is a question. He can hear his thoughts through the Taint they share, he thinks 'how could he defeat me so easily?'
He throws his helmet aside, looking at surprised Alistair. "Aedan?" Alistair asks, his voice unbelieving. He gives him a wicked smile. 'You should never had abandon me in Korcari Wilds,' he tells him through the Taint. 'Now you'll pay.'
Stabbing the sword through the human by his feet he looks around. His Lord roars in contentment.
And Denerim burns, just as He had foretold.
