46 réponses à ce sujet

[Olwaye]

Nice moment of life, touching without too much fluff ( It might be because Sisi taped out all the fluff for her own thread )



The cat saying is nice but rather innacurate for Denerim, in Ferelden curiosity not only killed the cat but sold his pelt and made a stew out of the flesh.

[Olwaye]

By Thor-Ashaatoth I'm under the dreaded double-post curse!

Modifié par Olwaye, 02 avril 2010 - 10:50 .

[Sisimka]

Ew??

[Olwaye]

Well the streets of Denerim aren't nice

[DalishRanger]

@MireliA and Sisimka: I just want to say, it's pretty trippy seeing your avatars right next to each other. [smilie]../../../images/forum/emoticons/lol.png[/smilie]

Olwaye wrote...
The cat saying is nice but rather innacurate for Denerim, in Ferelden curiosity not only killed the cat but sold his pelt and made a stew out of the flesh.

The cat lover in me wants to be upset, but I have to admit: I laughed out loud at that. [smilie]../../../images/forum/emoticons/lol.png[/smilie]

Modifié par DalishRanger, 02 avril 2010 - 11:21 .

[Sisimka]

DalishRanger wrote...

@MireliA and Sisimka: I just want to say, it's pretty trippy seeing your avatars right next to each other. ../../../images/forum/emoticons/lol.png

*scrolls up to take a look* We have different hair, and different skin tone and I think our armour is a slightly different cut. I sound like Leliana...

[DalishRanger]

Trust me, I can tell them apart easily. They look similar enough, however, that at a quick glance it's very jarring.

[Taiyama]

Very nice chapter, DR. I wish I had something witty or novel to say but I can't figure out anything like that to say.



For the record, if I don't post after every chapter, that's the reason. I always read and enjoy, just so you know.

[DalishRanger]

Thanks, and noted, Taiyama.

For those who may have missed it, I just added art for part 2 on the first page. I'm pretty pleased with it, especially since Tsura's hair was difficult for me to draw.

[Sisimka]

Lovely artwork as usual. Legam's mother is beautiful!

[MireliA]

Sisimka wrote...

DalishRanger wrote...

@MireliA and Sisimka: I just want to say, it's pretty trippy seeing your avatars right next to each other. ../../../images/forum/emoticons/lol.png

*scrolls up to take a look* We have different hair, and different skin tone and I think our armour is a slightly different cut. I sound like Leliana...

I noticed that before. People are going to think I'm copying you! I might change back to the dark haired elf

And yes great artwork again

Modifié par MireliA, 03 avril 2010 - 10:42 .

[DalishRanger]

Nah, I don't think they're similar enough that people would assume you're copying; unless you use the toolset/mods, there's a high chance for having some lookalike avatars in the forum. It's one reason I uploaded a custom screencap one of Legam; while I liked his standard avatar that auto-uploads from the game, having a more specific and "dramatic" one makes it very easy and quick for me to spot my own posts in a topic.

Heh, thank you. I can't wait to write part 3 (will try to start soon). It involves a middle-aged Greagoir and one of the lesser senior enchanters from the mage origin... Gives me an excuse to draw them younger and play with their looks. =D

Modifié par DalishRanger, 04 avril 2010 - 01:47 .

[DalishRanger]

Working on the next part, though I doubt I'll finish it tonight. In the meantime, I found some old poems for a high school Lit project in my closet. I'm no poet and was only about 14-15 years old at the time of the writing, but I was surprised to find they weren't too bad, especially considering their age. Figured as a bit of "filler" for the time being, I'd share my two favorites with you guys:


Running
How I hate to run
It isn’t any fun
I trip and sneeze
And gasp and wheeze
Beneath the blazing sun


[Crush]
I will not make something so cliché
Like comparing you with a rose
No, things like that are too blasé
And something I won’t compose
I won’t call it fate
It’s not that you’re a foolish male
It’s I’m too young to choose a forever mate
My feelings for you are not on that scale
When I see you, I don’t turn into mush
Although you are cute
It’s only a crush
About this my friend, I won’t dispute
But don’t fret about it and look above
For all we know, one day it may be love

Modifié par DalishRanger, 04 avril 2010 - 05:33 .

[DalishRanger]

Sorry I've been so slow to update. Been trying to work through writer's block and, admittedly, getting too distracted by groups like Smecks and Beer. However, I'm on a much better roll tonight than I have been all week. I still don't know if I'll be able to finish before I succumb to sleep, so here's a little teaser for you guys:

~*~*~

“Yer weeks late, but nice to see ya finally got my friend’s money back,” the gaped-tooth boy sneered, eyeing the coins in his hand. Legam clenched his fist, biting his lip.

“That’s not funny.” He growled. The other boy snorted, jingling the coins in his palm.

“Wasn’t a joke. Get going before I decide to charge ya a late fee.”

Tsura craned her neck, frowning as she spotted the other child next to her son, sensing trouble. She turned to the textile vendor, quickly apologizing and excusing herself. The woman pulled away from the stand, weaving through the crowd. She mentally cursed each time someone stepped in her path, slowing her pace. Tsura politely brushed past them, cursing under her breath as others walked in her way.

Legam reached for the coins, but the taller boy quickly jerked them out of his reach, pushing him back with a laugh. Palwen looked up from his rummaging, seeing the potential scuffle brewing. He frowned.

“I believe those coppers were my payment, boy,” he fought to keep the venom out of his tone, “so either hand them over to me or back to my young friend before I have to call over the guards.” The freckled child snorted.

“And you think the guard would take yer side? Mind yer own business, knife ears.”

Palwen’s face flushed in barely controlled rage. He opened his mouth to retort, but instead kept it agape in shock when Legam shoved the other boy hard enough to knock him over. The larger boy yelped, surprised, dropping the coins and slamming onto the cobblestone. Taking advantage of the bully’s dumbfounded state, Legam scooped up the coppers and dashed down the street.

“LEGAM!” His mother shouted, no longer worrying about manners as she shoved through the crowd.

~*~*~

And that's all I'm giving up for now. Heh.

[DalishRanger]

Ugh. FINALLY got through this, though I still don't know if I'm fully satisfied with the overall flow of events. But I can nitpick and proof it more another day. For now, I'm posting and then collapsing into bed.

And for the record, the mage in this, Torrin, is not an OC. He's a minor senior enchanter from the mage origin I've always liked and felt was vague enough in his background that I could take a bit of leeway with him here.

Denerim Days - Part 3

Tsura strolled through the market district, a basket resting against her left hip, with Legam shuffling along her right side. Her son gazed up at the surrounding buildings, lost in his thoughts, as he often was when not conversing with her. She chuckled, gently wrapping a free hand around his shoulders and guiding him out of the pathway of oncoming passersby.

Legam flowed with her movements, offering no resistance when she moved him, his mind wandering to bits and pieces of history he recalled about certain locations in the city. He rubbed one of his cheeks absentmindedly; his bruises, bumps and scrapes had faded from the scuffle several weeks back. Today was the first time returning to the market district since that incident. Bullies rarely physically harassed him when he ventured out with his mother, but the boy stayed cautious – the injuries may have healed, but the pain remained fresh in his mind. Hoping to deter some of his stress, Legam focused his mind on memorized lore, keeping his thoughts on more pleasant things.

His mother patted his shoulder, shaking the boy from his imaging. He looked up at her quizzically. Tsura nodded her head across the bazaar, to a cluster of elven merchants.

“Palwen should be over there,” she said, handing Legam her basket, “could you buy a few potatoes and squash from him? I need to look at fabrics to mend your father’s shirt.” The boy nodded, and she slipped a few coppers into his hand. “That should cover a pound or two.”

Legam glanced warily at the distance between the elven merchants and the textile vendors. Realizing his train of thought, Tsura rubbed the space between his shoulder reassuringly. “They’re not too far apart. I’ll be keeping an eye on you. Just come to me if you sense trouble, all right?”

“’Kay,” Legam muttered, adjusting the basket handle against his shoulder and slowly pulling himself away from his mother, marching towards Palwen’s wares. Tsura chuckled, shaking her head and approaching the fabric wares. As she perused the merchandise, she made it a point to glance over her shoulder every few moments, always keeping her son in her sights.

~*~*~

Palwen spotted Legam’s approach, grinning widely as the boy wove through the foot traffic to his stand. “Ah, all patched up and out and about once more, I see!” the elf chuckled good naturedly. He nodded to the basket, “It’s that time of the week for your mother’s potatoes and squash, right?” Legam nodded, and Palwen reached for the appropriate vegetables. “How many does she need this time?”

Legam shrugged, simply holding up the handful of coppers. Palwen laughed, rummaging through his baskets for the better produce. He felt generous towards the Rivaini family this afternoon.

As the elf sorted through his wares, Legam felt the coins leave his hand. Confused, he swung his head from side to side, dread sinking into his chest when he spotted a very familiar redhead.

“Yer weeks late, but nice to see ya finally got my friend’s money back,” the gaped-tooth boy sneered, eyeing the coins in his hand. Legam clenched his fist, biting his lip.

“That’s not funny.” He growled. The other boy snorted, jingling the coins in his palm.

“Wasn’t a joke. Get going before I decide to charge ya a late fee.”

Tsura craned her neck, frowning as she spotted the other child next to her son, sensing trouble. She turned to the textile vendor, quickly apologizing and excusing herself. The woman pulled away from the stand, weaving through the crowd. She mentally cursed each time someone stepped in her path, slowing her pace. Tsura politely brushed past them, cursing under her breath as others walked in her way.

Legam reached for the coins, but the taller boy quickly jerked them out of his reach, pushing him back with a laugh. Palwen looked up from his rummaging, seeing the potential scuffle brewing. He frowned.

“I believe those coppers were my payment, boy,” he fought to keep the venom out of his tone, “so either hand them over to me or back to my young friend before I have to call over the guards.” The freckled child snorted.

“And you think the guard would take yer side? Mind yer own business, knife ears.”

Palwen’s face flushed in barely controlled rage. He opened his mouth to retort, but instead kept it agape in shock when Legam shoved the other boy hard enough to knock him over. The larger boy yelped, surprised, dropping the coins and slamming onto the cobblestone. Taking advantage of the bully’s dumbfounded state, Legam scooped up the coppers and dashed down the street.

“LEGAM!” His mother shouted, no longer worrying about manners as she shoved through the crowd.

“Oi! Get back here, you damn Rivi!” shooting up and rubbing his sore buttocks, the redheaded boy growled and darted off in pursuit of the smaller child.

Elven curses leaking through his clenched teeth, Palwen darted after the train of humans, scanning the crowd for guards. He did not want a repeat of the last encounter between the two boys.

~*~*~

Legam zipped and wove through the throng of people, his small size allowing for better maneuverability in the crowd. He knew not where to go or why he finally lashed out. His only focus at the moment remained to keep on running. He ducked under the legs of a particularly tall fellow. The man felt the brush of wind between his legs and caught a glimpse of the small boy – and the coppers in his hand – before the child darted around a bend.

“Hey!” The startled man exclaimed, raising his voice and catching the attention of nearby guards. He peered around the corner, pointing to the youth’s retreating form, “Pickpocket! Guards!”

Hearing the clinking of metal behind him, Legam glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening in panic when he saw several armored men begin chase. How did this situation get so bad so fast? He whimpered and squeezed into a narrow alleyway. He resurfaced onto the main paths several streets down, hoping to slow his pursuers enough to make a more lasting disappearance. The young Rivaini scanned the area and caught sight of another small alley across the way. Inhaling deeply and quickly, he broke out into a run across the square and into the alley.

Legam soon regretted his choice, hopping over several stored sundries with little room for error in maneuvering. Finally, the passageway opened up, but this time into a corner of buildings. He spotted several potential escapes, but none of them looked clear cut or easy to slip into. Legam bit his lip, trying to think.

He turned his head to scan the area further, only to spot a fist shortly before it connected with his face. Stumbling backwards, Legam was still blinking the stars and tears from his eyes when he felt two small hands yank him forward by the scruff of his shirt.

“You bloody knicker-weasel!” The boy growled, his rancid, hot breath making Legam wrinkle his nose, disgusted by the stench.

“Let go of me,” he grumbled, trying to fuel his disgust into temporary confidence. It failed to intimidate, the bully’s fist slamming into his cheek again. Legam grunted, tasting blood.

“Don’t think ya can –”

“HEY!” Legam squinted an eye while the redhead craned his neck around. They spotted a trio of guards rushing into the area. “Boy, hand over the money you stole.”

The older boy opened his mouth to protest, then stopped, turning back to Legam with a smirk. “Yeah, give it back.” He opened his free hand palm-up, expectant.

Legam spat in his eye.

Cursing, the bully released him, wiping his face, “Why you mud-skinned little –” A guard stepped forward to interrupt.

“All right, enough. Just cooperate and things will go far more easily for everybody.”

“It’s my money. My mom gave it to me.” Legam protested, backing up a few steps even as he fought to keep his voice steady.

“Liar. You pushed me over and snatched it right out of my hand!”

“Only after you took it from me first!”

“All right, that’s enough!” The guards closed in on the two children. Legam backed up against a nearby house, trying to suppress his fleeing instincts – not that they would do him any good cornered. His heart raced, his anxiety rose, eyes scanning from face to face.

The burliest guard crossed his arms, frowning. “Come now, do we need to drag you down to the guard post? Just return the coppers and we’ll let you off with a warning.”

“You’re not listening!” Indignity, fear and anger boiled up in Legam’s veins. The men stepped closer, and though the boy saw their lips move, he heard no words. All background noises were drowned out by a sudden ringing, its pitch rapidly increasing in decibel as his panic increased, his insides blazing as if aflame. His hands gripped his head, fingers tangling through his short locks of hair. Gritting his teeth and shaking his head to and fro, he shouted over the ringing.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Heat radiated from his palms, and he jerked his hands from his head, shoving them in front of himself protectively. Blurred streaks of bright colors – reds, yellows, oranges, white – invaded his vision, blocking everything else from his senses.



Tsura turned another corner, catching up with Palwen. She clapped a hand to his shoulder, halting his progress as she panted to recover her breath.

“Did you see… Where they went?” She straightened, her breathing slowing somewhat. Palwen furrowed his eyebrows and rubbed his neck.

“I think they were – ”

A deafening boom hit their ears, causing both to jump. They jerked their heads to see a giant billow of smoke several streets away.

~*~*~



Knight Commander Greagoir trudged through Denerim’s streets, running a gauntleted hand through his graying dark hair. His armor clanked with each step, alerting others to his presence long before he approached. The sight of a fully armed and armored templar – one whose face scrunched in a tight frown, no less – sent most passersby scrambling out of the way.

Beside the surly templar calmly strolled a beige mage clad in bright robes. He stroked the small tuft of hair upon his chin, scanning the streets. Behind the two men marched three more templars – all wary eyed and in complete uniform.

“You know,” the mage said passively, his staff tapping against the cobblestone as he walked, “it’s been quite some time since the Circle was called to retrieve a new mage from Denerim. I don’t think I’ve seen this city in over a decade.”

Greagoir grunted, eyes focused ahead, “We also don’t usually get reports of destruction on this scale.” The severity of the incident was the only reason the captain himself had come for a simple retrieval – normally, the order sent younger templars to handle such business. “How did this child go for so long without his abilities being discovered?”

“Not all magic appears quietly, you know,” his companion chuckled. “Some are quite gifted from the start.”

“Gifted?!” The templar craned his head to glare at the mage beside him, “You call the destruction of two houses, three injured guards and a child almost on the Maker’s doorstep a gift, Enchanter Torrin?”

Torrin shook his head, waving his hands placating, “No, of course the destruction is not a good thing. It simply shows plenty of raw potential –” Greagoir glared and the mage quickly appended, “– and a complete lack of control. But that is what the Circle is for.”

“Indeed.” Greagoir stopped, reaching the crowded entrance of the market district chantry. He pushed aside the shouting, angry people and strode up to the front doors, nodding at the posted templar. The other knight returned his nod.

“Knight Commander, I presume?” the younger man inquired.

“Yes.” Greagoir folded his arms, frowning once more, “Is the child inside?”

“Safe with the priests. We’ve had to keep the crowd at bay for the past week! Most of it’s calmed down by now, but the first few days we had to recruit help from the city guard to keep order!”

“Were there any fatalities?”

The doorman shook his head, “No, though the boy nearest to the blast is badly burned. His family led the first mob, but the Reverend Mother finally scared them off. No one wields guilt better than a chantry priest, eh?”

“And the mage’s parents?” Torrin cut in, knowing Greagoir was in no mood for even mild blasphemies.

The young templar turned his attention to the enchanter, “They’re in the docks district, under house guard until this all blows over. Most of the mob attention has been here, though.”

“Enough.” Greagoir waved his hand dismissively, “Take us inside to the boy.”

~*~*~

Legam curled up in the corner of his bed – one of the many the chantry normally provided for their priests. He remained silent, staring at his hands, still horrified over the incident at the marketplace the week prior. Few details remained, but he remembered the fire – recalled the heavy stench of burnt flesh, wood and hot stone. There was something else too – bright, white light. Lighting, perhaps?

Whatever it was, the boy still did not understand how such things came from him – created all that devastation. He’d seen parts of the ruined houses, the injured guards, the smoke billowing all around him from the wreckage. His mother’s distant voice, right before he blacked out completely.

His hands balled into fists, clenching the fabric of his pants. Mother. More than anything else right now, Legam wanted to see her and his father again. This building was strange, the people unfamiliar. All the hushed whispers around him, the chants echoing through the stone walls during all hours, the statues and vestments – everything about this place was foreign and thus somewhat frightening.

And yet, at the same time, it comforted him.

The light that streamed in through the various windows and cracks came softly, warmly. The chants were low, sometimes musical – and always gentle. The feminine faces of the statues throughout the building looked down upon him with small smiles – stern, yet loving. Rather… maternally.

Though never inside this building before, Legam knew he sat inside the market chantry. He recognized several of the robed priests from the streets; often, he and his mother passed by them and the chantry on their way to buy food. His mother always gave a slightly wide berth when passing, as if afraid of coming too close and drawing too much attention to them.

Whenever he asked her the reason for this, she replied simply, “Our people are often not… Warmly welcomed by the Maker’s people,” and hurried them along.

“Here, gentlemen.” Legam jerked, startled at the woman’s voice. He looked up to see one of the priests gesture to him. Behind her stood a tall, bearded man in armor, and next to him a man in bright robes. Both raised their eyebrows, obviously surprised.

“A Rivaini? Well, this is a rare occurrence.” the robed man chuckled, walking slowly over to the boy. Legam drew himself up further into the corner as the man knelt down beside the bed. The man chuckled again, softly. He smiled warmly at the child, “You know, my grandfather was from Rivain. It’s been some years since I’ve seen another such as you or I with arcane talent. In Ferelden, at least.”

“Ar… You mean magic?” Legam queried nervously. The man nodded.

“That’s why we’re here.”

“You are to come to the Circle with us,” the older, armored man spoke up from the doorway.

“Circle?” Legam arched a small eyebrow.

Greagoir sighed, rubbing a temple, “It seems we may be here a while.”

~*~*~

After several hours of explanations from the templar and mage, and denial, protests and struggles from Legam, the boy reluctantly marched out of the city gates. He departed with the gruff templar and the calm mage, along with several other armor-clad individuals. They trekked through the back alleys, avoiding the bulk of the crowds to avoid trouble.

As their company approached the bridge out of the city, Legam heard a familiar voice call to him. Turning around, the child saw his father run towards this. Grinning widely, Legam ducked under the limbs of his guards and stumbled over to his parent.

Greagoir started to order the child to return, but stopped when he spotted Brishan kneel down, catching the boy in a tight hug. The Knight Commander furrowed his brow, but let the two have their moment.

“Glad I am not late to miss you!” his father muttered. Legam buried his head into his father’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to leave.”

Brishan reluctantly pulled back, holding his son at arm’s length, “Unfortunately, not choice of ours. You have special gift, my son. Must learn with others like you at Circle.”

“Why can’t I learn it here?” His lower lip pouted. Brishan chuckled, though the humor did not quite spread to his eyes.

“Is not the way of things.”

Legam sighed, looking about, “Where’s Mom?” Brishan frowned.

“She cannot make trip. Too many people by home, watch too close. I can slip by back ways quietly, your mother… Not as quiet. But she sends love.” The Rivaini man reached into his belt pouch, “And sends these, too.” He pulled out two small objects, placing them into Legam’s open hand. The boy looked down, curious.

A cinnamon incense stick – undoubtedly his mother’s – and a few laurel leaves.

Brishan placed his hand over Legam’s, covering the gifts, “We… Write all time. Send letters. If possible, will visit too. But letters for sure.” Legam thought he caught a small tremor in the man’s voice, but if he did, it passed quickly. Brishan’s hand tightened around his son’s fist, but not painfully so. “Your mother and me… So very proud of you. … You must be like laurel, yes?” He hugged his son once more, rubbing the boy’s back comfortingly, “Be like laurel and strong. Be good with your gifts.”

At a loss for words, Legam merely returned the hug, pulled away only when he felt the enchanter’s hand on his shoulder.

“Come child,” Torrin spoke softly, “your new home awaits.”

Legam left the warmth of his father, pulled towards the templars and the bridge. As he walked, the child kept his neck craned to watch his father as the templars walked, until Brishan – and Denerim’s gates – disappeared into the haze of the horizon. Finally, the boy turned to face the road ahead. Tightening his grasp on the incense and leaves, Legam held the objects against his chest, keeping them close to his heart as the templars and mage led him further down the path, away from Denerim and forward through unknown horizons.

Modifié par DalishRanger, 12 avril 2010 - 05:40 .

[MireliA]

Two houses?? Way to leave a trail of destruction behind you, Legam . And that kid got what he deserved anyhow.



It was a shame he didn't get to see his mother before he left.

[Sisimka]

Nicely done, DR! I giggled over the 'knicker-weasel' line. So sad he didn't get to say goodbye to his mother! Will they visit him at the tower (is that allowed)?

[DalishRanger]

Thanks guys. I need to go back and proof this, as I was on the verge of falling asleep when I wrote the last few paragraphs. Heh...

@MireliA: Heh, well... Legam wouldn't think so. That early destruction is one of his driving forces to study so hard at the Circle and become very, very good at controlling his abilities. He hates hurting people, regardless of whether they've wronged him or not.

@Sisi: Considering most mages' families disown them, I don't know if they would normally have visitors, so I have no idea if it's allowed or not. I know letters are exchanged sometimes, though. So at the very least, Legam gets letters from home once or twice a month.

And as to saying goodbye to his mother... Unfortunately, life doesn't always give you even small breaks. Maybe the sudden maternal void in his life is one reason why he's a cuddler later in life?

Modifié par DalishRanger, 11 avril 2010 - 09:31 .

[DalishRanger]

Artwork for part three added. See last chapter post.

[Taiyama]

Very nice chapter, DR. Legam sure has some raw power, though, doesn't he? Wish I had more to say than that but I can't really think of anything. 'S early, get off my case

[Olwaye]

Nice story, and great artwork, Greagoir does look sour, well he's just being himself
I'm glad you used Torin, he looked great in the mage origin and I really thought he will be of importance latter on, but finally you don't get to see him again, shame, the character had something, he must be part of the Bannhammer posse

Poor Legam still got a really long road ahead of him, with some nice surprise on the way, cheer up little one, you're in for quite a ride 

[DalishRanger]

Indeed. I figure since the mage origin keeps reminding you that the to-be Warden is so gifted/powerful, that Legam's magic would make a strong first manifestation.

EDIT: Olwaye, you must have posted right before I did, because I didn't see yours until now.

Yes, I thought Torrin was interesting. He seemed pretty down-to-earth, and one to focus a lot on the academic side of magic. I like to imagine he's one of the enchanters Legam knew better/learned under for a while. Since he doesn't appear later, I've often figured he was one of the many mages to die in Uldric's upheaval.

Also, though his lips were a pain to draw (and I'm still not happy with them), I had a lot of fun drawing grumpy old Greagoir.

I'm working on some challenge entries for Maker's Breath (that may or may not end up here), so the short stories are going to take a backseat for a bit. I might add the stuff I've already written so the topic stays up to date, though - like the one with Jowan and Legam as teenagers.

Modifié par DalishRanger, 12 avril 2010 - 06:26 .