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Henrietta Buttercup leaned against the wooden fence to watch the fiery sunset. It was the perfect ending to a hard day on the farm--not to mention a good excuse to not head back to the main house for as long as possible.
It wasn’t easy sharing a house with her whole family--competing with one another for attention, everyone fighting over food, and the noise! She couldn’t hardly hear herself think over the cacophony of her squawking siblings.
With a resigned sigh, she left the wooden fence and headed to the farmhouse. Henrietta Buttercup was halfway there when she heard an ensemble of loud growls just beyond the western hill. Growls unlike anything she’s heard before--a low, menacing, snarling rumble that reverberated throughout the hollow. And it was moving quickly in her direction.
The growling from the west crested the hill, and from the number of torches she could see she guessed it was a small army. Her family was in danger, she had to warn them. She sprinted toward the house, flapping and screeching a warning to the others that they were in danger.
Henrietta Buttercup burst into the kitchen, sending the back door crashing into the side board. It was too late. Henrietta Buttercup made her way across the blood-coated floor looking for someone, anyone still alive. From the amount of blood on the floor, she feared that everyone was dead.
She entered the living room and stopped dead in her tracks--her fears confirmed. It took a minute before the whole horror of the scene before her sank in: the half-eaten corpses of her family were splattered against the walls, and dripped from the ceiling into pools of blood and meat on the floor.
Bile rose in her throat and she vomited right there. They were all gone. Slaughtered and eaten like animals. If she didn’t run, she would be next. Her mind screamed at her legs to run, over and over again, only they refused to listen.
A strong hand on her back snapped her attention from the scene before her to the tall, dark man in strange armor, who suddenly appeared behind her. She whirled around, ready for another attack, but the attack didn’t come. Still, she stayed alert, ready to claw his eyes out should he make any sudden moves.
Was this strange man friend or foe? Was he the one who did this to her family? Was she going to end up eaten like them?
“There isn’t much time. We need to leave now if we are to have any chance of escaping.” He said urgently.
He pushed her out the open front door. “You can use this.” He shoved her sword at her, and before she could ask who he was and what he was doing with her sword, he began running. She didn’t want to take on the darkspawn herself and end up like her family. Following this man in strange armor seemed like the only way she was going to get out of this alive. She tucked her sword into her belt and took off after him.
They ran from the farmhouse under the cloak of night. She couldn’t think about her family, or her home that was no doubt being tainted by the foul creatures; she had to run. She ran after the man in the strange armor as fast as she could, so fast she felt like she was flying.
They didn’t stop until they could no longer see the light from the torches or hear the grating shouts and grunts from the direction of her farm house. She could only imagine what was happening there: their livestock being torn apart, the farmhouse ransacked for supplies, fields stripped bare and burned.
Henrietta Buttercup’s gruesome mental pictures were interrupted by the man clad in strange armor.
“My name is Duncan, and I assume you are Henrietta Buttercup?”
How did he know her name?
Before she could answer, he drew his daggers and motioned for her to grab her sword and be ready. She heard the grunting growls before she saw the grotesque creature pop from the shadows, slashing at her with its sword. She easily parried its blows, countered with a graceful twirl, and neatly severed the creature’s head from its body without so much as breaking a sweat or needing Duncan to engage.
“As I was saying.” Duncan continued and sheathed his daggers. “I am a Grey Warden. I had heard of your extraordinary combat skills and wanted to see them for myself.”
Henrietta Buttercup heard of these great warriors before. They were mostly legend now since the last blight occurred over four hundred years ago.
“If we are going to stop the blight, the Grey Wardens need as many recruits as we can get. You are an impressive fighter, and the order would make great use of your skills.”
Her? A Grey Warden? Yes. This was her chance to avenge her family’s slaughter.
~*~*~
Ostagar. A crumbling outpost on the edge of the Kocari Wilds. This was where King Cailan was making his great stand against the darkspawn, ending the blight before it got any worse.
The King himself, accompanied by several guards, was waiting for them at the entrance to the ruin.
“Ah, Duncan, you’ve returned! And this must be the new recruit you told me about.”
Henrietta Buttercup lowered her head. Partly out of reverence for being in the presence of the king, and partly due to the embarrassment of looking disheveled and in tattered clothes before the king.
The king spoke excitedly about how glorious it will be for the King of Ferelden to ride into battle with the legendary Grey Wardens at his side. He was confident that their plans would make quick work of the darkspawn, ending the blight here. From the look on Duncan's face
“Is this a joke?” The guard behind the king was looking right at her, arms folded, his face drawn into a scowl.
“Now Loghain, don’t be rude.” The King chastised the dark-haired, scowling guard. “I’m sure Duncan and his new recruit have much they need to do in preparation for the battle. We shouldn’t keep them any longer.”
“She’s a giant fucking chicken!” The man cried, shaking his arm incredulously at her.