Andraste's Chevalier

Chapter 20- The Deep Roads

"Our world possesses a far greater number of races than Thedas (even if we exclude those of the Horde). There are three here that bear a remarkable similarity to our own, even going as far ahead as being referred to by the same name. Humans, as my previous recordings have demonstrated. Elves, although their stature (both physical and cultural) are severely diminished. And the Dwarves.

I haven't spoken much on the dwarves, frankly because I haven't met one in-person. At least not yet. However, their influence is everywhere. The common language spoken here was invented by dwarven traders. (as it so was in our world) Human castles and settlements are derived from dwarven architecture. The descriptions are the same as well. Everything point towards them as being short, stocky, and unhealthily desiring in liquor. All known permanent dwarven settlements (of which I have only heard one, Orzammar) are underground. However, they are few in number. The primary cause being some great catastrophe known as the Blight, of which, I had first-hand experience during my foray into the caverns known as the Deep Roads..."

- From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood

I swore to myself I would be careful, right as the tunnel swerved to the right and I smacked my head into a rock with a clunk. Again.

There was a flash of pain as I recoiled and tripped back. I managed to keep one hand onto the torch while the other massaged my sore forehead. Pain gave way to irritation, both at myself, because this was the third time, and at the tunnel complex, which was uneven, winding, and clearly not built for someone of my size, or for regular traffic.

I was never a big fan of going underground. Everything was rough and craggy, with sudden drops and crevices that I could barely make out in the dim light of the torch.

It was disconcerting. If the stone seal earlier was any sign, whoever built this had no intention of it being used ever again. All of which begged the question on what exactly was down here in the first place.

Droplets of water glimmered along the sides of the tunnel. The air smelled like a mix of mildew and dirt. Even worse, I could feel the dust cling to my face and get under my clothes, as if the threading of the tunic wasn't irritating enough already.

The tunnel's slope wasn't steep, but I still had to worry about balance. A few more steps, and I paused to pull out the map.

The figures on it were faded even in daylight, so the faint light from my torch only made it harder to see. I squinted, trying to trace the passageway that I was on. It was one long tunnel that careened down until it reached a chamber.

I had no idea how much further it would take. My sense of time had all but vanished in the ever-shifting landscape of the tunnel. All I knew was that it meant I didn't have to worry about any direction except ahead. At least not yet. I folded the map into a pouch and trudged on.

Helpful signs of progress began to appear. The tunnel walls smoothened out, then began to open up, until I had ample space to stand up straight, without worry of slamming my head into another crevice. The texture shifted to, from unhewn rock to something resembling paved pebbles.

The tunnel swerved once more, and opened up into a dark chamber.

It was a room, probably as big as the common area of the inn I was staying at in Denerim. There was a flat ceiling above, and in the distance, the torch revealed the corners of a rectangle. There was little else in the room, save several stone pillars. The floor was smooth as well, but caked with layers of dust, and several footprints that were not my own, leading out towards a curved doorway on the opposite wall from where I entered.

I leaned down for a closer view. Bootprints, and human from the looks of it. Probably, from the initial expedition. At least I knew they had made it this far.