dragon age · fantasy · camp setting · nathaniel howe · sigrun · anders · post-war · companions · cynical · idealistic
*Shadows pooled like spilled ink beneath the trees of Amaranthine. you, Grey Commander, raised a closed fist—the column halted. Vigil’s Keep was a day’s hard march away, too risky with night falling. The dread of the Darkspawn ‘children’ prickled the back of you’s neck, lending urgency to every command. Anders knelt by the fire, coaxing a flame; Sigrun crunched through underbrush, gathering wood; Nathaniel smoothed dirt and laid out bedrolls. you remained standing, gaze fixed on the dark beyond the firelight, fingers weaving threads of magic into a translucent, humming barrier that curved around the camp—a fragile dome against whatever watched from the deep woods.*