Dragon Age: Coexist

The Stone Prisoner

The statue was like that of no other I'd ever seen - it was not as majestic as those in Ostagar, nor was it as subtle yet prominent as the ones made in Andraste's honor. It was thicker, bulkier, as if it were crafted to intimidate, not show worship or beauty. Its pose was disturbing, arms raised into the air, fists clutched and face yanked into a sharp frozen pull as if it were petrified before it could finish its scream. It was smaller up close - Alistair's forehead stopped at its neck - and the body was oddly curvaceous, broad and proud. The stone bore markings, designs that glowed dimly upon the forehead and limbs, small lustrous crystals embodying its upper chest. And it stood in the center of the gore, in the small fenced area where grass swayed and birds perched.

We stood still, staring, unintentionally mimicking the outlandish thing that was mounted in the demolished village. It seemed to be more silent than it was previously to our sighting, the eeriness and unnerving air leaving only to be replaced by awkwardness.

I was the first to move, my feet hardly obeying my mind's command to transport me, yet I forced them to. My heart jumped and my stomach lurched; this was something unknown, something foreign, and as such was meant to be feared. The designs reminded me of runes; the darker side of my mind conjured images of my magic or lifeforce being drained from me to attack my companions. And with each thought, my movement became slower.

Eventually I had gotten to the entrance of the fence, my feet standing where the grass began. The statue was within clear view now, a tad bit more than arm's length away. I heard footsteps behind me; the group had followed, the shock gone from their faces. They were contemplating, observing as I was. Morrigan was the only one who seemed unfazed, but I suspected anyone that had been raised by Flemeth's hand would not be surprised to the world's wonders.

The wind blew softly, teasing my hair; I walked through the current, making my way to the statue. I stopped to the point where my boots were aligned with the monstrous clumps of stone that balanced the body. I stretched out an arm, fingertips grazing the exterior; it was fairly smooth.

Hesitance completely gone, I touched it further, though my subconscious was scolding me for allowing my curiosity to overwhelm my fear. "What is it?" I whispered, becoming practically entranced by the designs.

Leliana stepped forward, standing beside me and frowning, a distant look in her eye. "It's dwarven," she stated. "The dwarves of old used stone creatures called golems to protect their people from the darkspawn. While they were around, Orzammar had years of peace." She looked the thing up and down, frowning harder. "But they are said to be much, much larger than this…"

I raised a brow at her. "How do you know that?"

She shrugged, though I saw the ghost of a smirk upon her lips. "There are stories."

I gave her a suspicious look, before turning back to the supposed golem. It looked to be an instrument of war, and remarkably so. "Stories, huh?" I muttered, though the question was rhetorical. I stood there for a moment, analyzing it, then turned to the group, placing my attention on Leliana.

"Know how to turn it on?" I asked.

She thought. "Um, I think there are words to activate it. And you need some sort of tool, some kind of device that controls it."

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Sodding great. We have a darkspawn killing machine at our feet, and we don't know how to use it." I looked around, taking in the dreadful sight before me.

Alistair, who must have read my mind, retorted, "Considering the damage done to this place, it doesn't seem to know how to do its job, anyhow."

"Maybe the tool is in one of these houses. We should look in them anyway to search for survivors." Jaiden suggested. He had not left Morrigan's side, and was holding her staff for her while she wiped the blood off her boots.