197 réponses à ce sujet

[Gilgamesh1138]

You know westie, aside from the excellent writing and the wonderful stories... I LOVE the sarcastic humor. You just blow me away my friend. Boy do I love Castor and Erian. And I love you westie for writing them for me.

[westiex9]

Lol i think the Sarcasm grew out of my love of British Gangster movies(smart talking and rough) and The Gilmore Girls(seriously witty) i wanted to combine the two in Erian and Castor

That said The duo don't spend their time murdering people...and they don't paint each others nails...at least not unless someone is ghost writing stuff while im not looking....(looks over shoulder)

Errr...anyway yeah the Sarcasm thing makes the whole thing more fun..and im so glad you and Slim enjoy
reading, Makes the whole act of writing worth doing

Modifié par westiex9, 20 juin 2010 - 06:03 .

[Gilgamesh1138]

Ah my friend, you have so many lurkers. But I am happy that you feel it worth it to write if only for Slim and I. I am honored, and so very entertained. Thank you!

[Slim Warden]

West you know we appreciate you're writing, and I'm honored that you take joy, in us taking joy.

And I loved the whole cult story line in this case, those bloody cults and their secret handshakes.

[Gilgamesh1138]

Yeah it is secret handshake that gets me.

[westiex9]

Where Carrion Crows Feast Chapter 4

You know for a Bann’s estate this place is pretty poorly guarded, I am easily able to sneak past the guards and scale the small stone wall without detection, mind you the idiots probably have trouble seeing in their helmets and all black garb, if there’s one thing about cults I can count on its their impractical dress sense.

Dropping into courtyard I immediately scramble for the shadows as a guard marches past with his hands around a halberd, the courtyard is poorly lit, but I suspect that will do me little good once I get inside, I pull out my boot knife, which had previously been smeared in black paint to keep it from glinting, time for some wet work.

The guard has his back turned as he walks down the gravel path leading up to the manor house, he doesn’t see me coming, partly because like all the Black guards he’s wearing one of those ridiculous bucket helms with tiny vision slits, great for intimidating peasants, not so good for sentry duty at night.

I creep up behind him, matching his low and measured step with my own, he stops for a moment and takes a deep breath, I grab his throat with one hand to choke the breath out of him and plunge my boot knife into his heart, he jerks and spasms for a few moments as blade pierces his chest, then he goes limp and I carry his corpse into the shadows nearby.

I emerge a short time later dressed in the guard’s uniform, my armoured boots clank as I walk up the steps of the manor towards the main gate, the two guards at the main door simply look at me for a moment and then open the door with an unassuming look, I must be very convincing or just lucky, I nod as they open the door and walk through.

The Manor is a huge building and is so lavishly decorated I have to wonder how a small bannorn could ever afford this much luxury, then again the Bann is a blood mage, probably did all sorts of unnatural things to get this stuff, I try not to think about what those means might be as I walk through vast manor.

There’s guards here, but they pay me no heed, they just ignore me as I pass them, something seems wrong here, any normal and sane operation would check for spies and intruders like a paranoid Denerim guild master checks his door for angry mobs, but nothing like that occurs, no one stops me or even tries to impede my way as I travel deeper into the manor.

The walls of the manor are lined with strange and in some cases ancient things, suits of armour from bygone eras, paintings of King’s from two centuries back, and weapons that were likely looted from long forgotten battlefields. This place is like a tomb, a repository for things so old they shouldn’t rightly still exist, it reminds of the stories of Nevarra, the difference is in those stories the tombs are sealed and inhabited by nought but the long dead husks of departed princes.

I find a side room and open the door, it creaks and moans as I pull it open and walk in and shut it behind me, I tear the stuffy iron bucket helm from my face and take a deep breath, I’m in some sort of library, bookshelves fill the room and extend from the floor to nearly touching the roof of the room.

I casually pull a book from a nearby shelf and stare at it with a worried glance, the book is written in slightly archaic Ferelden, but I can recognise the words and subject matter, it concerns current kings of Ferelden and their retainers, most notably a passage is reserved for the king who reigns at the time of the tomes creation, King Arland, more disturbing still, there’s an image of him holding court and the names of the retainers are brightly emblazoned in gold lettering above their heads, one name strikes me in particular Bann Merrick Lorne.

But that was nearly two hundred years ago, could this Bann Lorne be the same person as the one described in this tome? Five years ago I would have laughed in your face at that suggestion, but I’ve seen so much since then and Blood magic’s insidious corruption has a long and powerful reach, perhaps even long enough to prolong a man through the ages.

“He always did know how to throw a good party” a youthful, and yet somehow elderly voice says, I nearly jump out of my skin, my hand tearing my sword from its scabbard and pointing in the direction of the voice

The source of the voice is a man, tall and pale skinned with piercing green eyes that seem to leer at me from their sockets, and long black curls that rest on his shoulders, he begins to laugh as he stares at me, laughter at futility I suppose.

“Oh my dear Ser ha-ha! Put that blade away, if I wanted I could call every guard in the manor here, who do you think let them pass? Besides....it would take far more then that length of cold steel to undo Merrick Lorne” he says with a poisonous smile, like a blight wolf eying its next meal

It’s not his threat of death at the hands of guards that loosens my grip on the blade, it’s his face, that youthful visage staring into my very soul from across the room, the same face is present in the book that now lies open on the floor its illustration still visible, it’s the same face and it hasn’t age a day in over 200 years. My sword hits the floor with a loud clang, Creators help me, this man is immortal!

[Gilgamesh1138]

Oh my! That is all I can say! I am on the edge of my seat, chewing my nails. LOL.

[Slim Warden]

Darn cults and their immortal evil leaders, this is enthralling West to say the least.

[westiex9]

Where Carrion Crows Feast chapter 5

The sheriff’s office was a small and informal affair, it could have been mistaken easily for a farmer’s hovel if not for the sword and shield hanging on the wall, and the iron barred cell at the side of the room. Castor entered with a sense of urgency, Erian going up to the manor on his own was sure to end badly.

“What do you want elf?” the sheriff asked in an aggressive tone as Castor entered

“You need to help me, my friend has gone up to the hill to confront the Bann, he’s behind all the killings!” Castor said in an imploring voice

The sheriff stared up at Castor with an icy look on his face, he rose from his seat and pulled something from his draw, Castor began to wonder what this man would do if given the chance to get close to him.

“You city folk always have to poke your noses into places where they don’t belong!” he said advancing towards Castor

“People are dying I think the law has a place there!” Castor replied as he tried to back out of the room, the door slammed shut as he tried to leave, he was trapped

“The Bann only took a few every couple of years! Just a few meagre lives! And in return he let us live, he gave us immortality!” the Sheriff said flashing his marked hand, so this was how the Bann kept dominion over his realm, through an army of immortal servants.

“You colluded with that...Lunatic!!!” Castor yelled drawing a dagger from his belt

“Who do you think marked men for sacrifice, who do you, think abducting the women to satisfy his appetites, who do you think cleaned up all the mess and kept the village in check? Me and I’ve had two hundred years of practice!” the sheriff had said with a maniacal grin

“So you’re the one who keeps order here...guess the place would fall apart without you?” Castor said with a sudden calmness to his tone

“What are you getting at knife-ears? You elves talk too much! Time I shut you up!” the sheriff yelled lunging at Castor with his raised knife

Castor calmly sidestepped the lunge just like Erian had taught him during the year of relative peace they had enjoyed, the sheriff’s knife stabbed deep into the wooden door were Castor had been standing, the Sheriff began to tug madly at it trying to pry it loose, Castor wasted no time waiting, he stab the sheriff through the back of the neck and pulled his blade loose as a shower of jet black gore covered the ceiling and oozed down the former lawman’s back.

“Erian isn’t the only one who knows how to use a blade!” Castor muttered cleaning his blade on the sheriff’s shirt

Castor’s guess that the Sheriff had been a pawn of the Bann’s had been accurate, Castor had guessed on their arrival that a cult as large as the Bann’s would need members inside the village to function properly, Killing the Sheriff would break that link at least for the time being, he might be able to get the villagers to act now, but he’d need to be convincing and he’d need to shock them out of generations of fear. He stared at the Sheriff and had an inspired thought.

Castor took the sword off the sheriff’s wall and with one shift motion decapitated the sheriff’s corpse, he would take the sheriff’s head to the villagers and in doing so break their deep seated fear of the sheriff, the head would shock them into action, if the sheriff could die then so too could the Bann, Castor decided to hurry and taking the head crept out of the sheriff’s office and headed for the Chantry.


“This is one way of getting ahead I guess” Castor said with a wicked grin, he hoped he wouldn’t be too late to Save Erian. 


I can’t help but step back, terror running down my body like icy fingers, I’ve faced horrors from the fade before, but the pride demon wasn’t a living creature, I expected it to be something alien and unnatural... but this Bann is a monster with human eyes and a human voice.

“You seem startled my friend, I often get that response” the Bann says moving closer, I almost fall over trying to move away from him

“That book is over two centuries old! How can you still be alive!” I yell in a fearful voice

“Ah yes, I forget sometimes how long it’s been, I was a courtier of king Arland once and even accompanied him when he sacked the Wardens at soldiers peak....but when he died I was forced to hide from those fools still seeking vengeance against Arland, so I went to Antiva to wait till the Civil wars had ended” Bann lorne says in a nostalgic tone

“Antiva!” I reply confused

“Yes elf! Antiva, a land whose intrigues and secrets run as deep as the dwarven roads in the cold earth below, I was hosted by a countess then a lovely thing who had been widowed long since, we drank wine and conversed long into the evening about anything and everything, one night our discussions turned to death and I voiced my fear of it my terror at being one day as cold as the dead” The Bann says a strangely distant look on his face, some lingering fear perhaps 

“We’ve all got to die eventually, it’s the way the Creator’s made us” I reply finally reasserting control over my fears, ill need to be free of terror when the time comes to flee

“Ha! Says you a mortal who is already decaying into the dust! The Antivan countess of course already knew of a way to assuage my fear of the dead, she told me of a blind elven seer who lived high in the mountains, an ancient crone who held the answers to my fears, and so I journeyed into the peaks and sought this ancient being out” Bann Lorne says a dark look filling his face

“I take it you found what you sought?” I ask

“The crone sat in rags in the corner of the cave, her face never leaving the shadows, she offered to commune with demons in exchange for a sacrifice, I offered several elven slaves that my countess had provided....and she summoned something from the darkness, a beast who devoured their life’s blood and offered me power and eternal life, the Demon whispered dark secrets in my ear and told me of the powers of blood, and so I returned to this valley and ruled for two hundred years, the villagers providing me with a steady supply of sacrifices” he says with a dark smile

“You have been sacrificing innocents for Two hundred years! How deep does your depravity go!?” I ask shocked and disgusted by his seeming apathy towards this horror he has wrought upon the people below

“On occasion the village has nearly been expunged of life, my servants are all bound to me and carry out my bidding, in return for eternal life of cause, this land has provided a secluded spot for me to dwell in peace far from the horrors of mortal life, a fortress whose walls guard me against mans eldest foe!” he says raising his hands in a moment of pride, and supreme arrogance

“And now my dear elf I believe you shall have to disappear, I must be discreet after all” he says with a poisoned smile, why is it that villains always give away their plans before trying to kill you?

“I’m friends with the Queen, you kill me and she’ll send others to look for me, you won’t succeed with this!” I say running past the Bann towards my blade, snatching the steel and pointing it threateningly at him once again, a futile gesture perhaps, but it’s the only thing I can do

“Ha! If I can survive the predations of Orlais, Maric and Cailan’s agents then your current elf loving **** of a monarch will be no issue, anyone she sends will suffer your fate, Guards remove our guest” he says as Black robed figures fill the room 

“goodbye my friend, a pity I have to cut our hospitalities short, but then you mortals come and go so quickly I scarcely have time for you anymore!” he says leaving the room with a bone chilling laugh

I’m now alone in a room with his grunts, typical that he leaves the dirty work to his cultists; I guess he wouldn’t be a noble if he did the wet work himself.

“Let’s make this quick boys I’ve got things to do outside of your quaint little corner of the abyss” I say cutting the air with my blade, inviting anyone of these armoured fools to meet their fate at its edge

The move forward without a word, no taunts or challenges, just a line of black robes marching towards me, like death incarnate, I realise it will take more than a blade to deal with them alone, I search the room around me for an advantage, the cultists getting closer with each frantic gaze, then I find it, a loose bookshelf on my left

A well placed kick to the shelves side sends it toppling over on its own weight, tomes and books rain down upon the guards, burying them as the shelf crashes into their well organised line, I guess some knowledge can be deadly after all

I smile as I look at the results of my handiwork before stepping over books and bodies and heading for the door the Bann left through, the Bann thinks he’s immortal but I intend to bring him a long overdue death.

I grab a torch of the side of the wall in the hallways outside the study as I search the maze like mansion for the Bann, this vast old home was designed to last him an eternity in luxury, and its size is both amazing and
intimidating, I notice a large oak door left open, the blood red carpet leading inside the room with an enticing look.

I hold my torch in front like a weapon against the predatory shadows that surround me, it feels like something will trying to leap out of the ink like abyss and claw at me at any moment, but as I walk slowly through the great oak door, nothing comes, no great fade spawned horror attempts to tear me into bloody ribbons.

The room is a long and vast Audience hall, with a throne at the end of a long walk, the walls are lined with trophies, Orlesian and ferelden shields and weapons, and Even Templar and Chantry symbols too, Past attempts to stop his evil, I wonder briefly if my weapons will one day line this beasts wall, but I put that thought out of my mind, he needs to die and doubt will not help me.

At the end of the long hall, Bann Merrick Lorne stares at me from a black obsidian throne, he does not look pleased with my survival

“Elves ! You always were a persistent bunch! Looks like ill have to kill you myself!” Lorne says rising from his throne

“What can I say? I’m a hard fellow to kill!” I reply

He rushes towards me with unnatural speed and grabs me by the throat, lifting me off the ground with one hand; I thrust my blade into his chest, and its sticks there completely ineffectual.

“It will take more than swords to kill me; perhaps I shall force you to serve me, for all of time! After all you knife-ears are good for little else!” he says with a vicious look, his body glowing with the dark red shade of blood magic, he raises his other hand and a thin line of blood oozes in the air towards me. But as it gets close it begins to boil and then evaporates in hiss of red steam, I chuckle as best I can with his hand on my neck, and he stares up at me with a look that is a mixture of rage and confusion.

He throws me to the ground with a force that breaks ribs and sends me sliding across the ground, I stumble to my feet and still can’t help but grin, and I pull the ancient charm from my shirt and flash it at the Bann who glares at it with an infuriated eye

“You didn’t think I’d walk into your lair without protection did you? This? It was a gift from the Templar’s after I helped eliminate another beast using blood magic, looks like you’ll have to fight me the old fashioned way!” I say with a mocking laugh

He roars and charges at me trying to claw at my face with his hands, I kick him in the stomach and send him sprawling back against the wall, he begins to laugh, a maniacal cackle from a man whose sanity may have long since fled

“Even if I can’t use the blood magic’s, there’s nothing you can do to kill me, this fortress i have erected against time shall not allow me to falter to a mortal’s steel!” He says tearing my sword from his chest and raising it, ready to kill me with my own blade

Something dawns on me then, that phrase I keep hearing over and over again

“A fortress Erected against Man’s oldest foe”

“The blood of the Earth”

“Erects a Wall”

Harry wasn’t just being philosophical, he was being literal! This place this manor is actually a giant Sigil....the site of a massive blood spell designed to contain the Bann in a youthful state for all eternity, no wonder he has an army of cultists and never leaves the estate...he can’t! This is the only place he can remain young for all eternity.

 I stare at my torch, Bann Lorne still laughing madly as he approaches with my blade in his bloodied hand; I look at the great tapestry to my left and grin

“Times up!” I yell throwing the torch at the tapestry, I watch as the fire spreads across the fabric and begins to snake up towards the wooden wall and ceiling, the Bann’s face turns pale with terror for the first time as he sees the blazing flames beginning to grow and consume to walls and ceiling, I hear something then, a sound of people, I run from the throne room and bar the doors behind me, the Bann still inside.

I move through the front door and see Castor arriving with an angered mob of villagers, carrying pitchforks and Torches, this is about the only time I’m glad to see an angry horde of humans

“Erian! Are you okay?” Castor yells over the crowd of villagers

“No time to Explain Castor! The mansion...burn it! Now!” I yell


Castor nods “Burn it!” he says, the crowd to my surprise does as he says and begins to hurl torches into the
house and through smashed windows, soon the house becomes a raging inferno, the countless luxury items the Bann had collected for eternal life now in a grand irony serving as fuel for his funeral pyre


As we stand in the courtyard staring up at the blazing house, a scream echoes from inside, a horrific figure walks to the doorway and stares down at the assembled crowd, it’s the Bann and his body is covered in flames, his flesh warping and burning as the fire consumes him, he lets out an inhuman roar and then steps over the boundary between his mansion and the outside courtyard, as if making one last attempt to kill us all, but as he steps over the threshold between his insular realm and the outside his body begins to crumble and peel away, until only a smoking pile of ashes remains.

“Makers breath!” Castor mutters horrified by the sight

“Looks like his time finally ran out” I say as a wind blows across the plains and almost by natural instinct sweeps away the corrupted ashes of the former tyrant

“With the Bann gone...I don’t know...we might actually...be able to live without fear!” a man I assume is the village head says stepping forward with an amazed look on his face

“Well, with Lorne and his Cultists gone, the famine should end rather abruptly” Castor says with a grin

“I just...can’t believe you succeeded, we’ve lived in the Shadow of Bann Lorne and his cult since...since most of us were born...he’s always been here...looming over us” the Village head says lost for words

“Yeah well, no one lives forever; I’ll make sure the queen knows to send a force to clean up here, the evils that plagued this place just met their long overdue demise” I reply moving through the crowds and mounting my horse, which castor dutifully brought with him

“Ser Erian! You’re leaving? But we haven’t even had chance to properly thank you yet!” the Head yells surprised


“You want to thank me? See that this place never gets used again! And when you all return to your homes, say a prayer for Mad Harry and Hubert, without their sacrifice this would never have happened, and the Bann would still be ruling on this hill” I reply before riding away Castor following close

Erian Tor’s Office, Denerim Alienage, Two Days later

“So the Bann prolonged his life and lived in that mansion for two centuries, did you never you know feel envious of him? What with All that luxury and time on his hands” Shianni asks

“No not really” I reply

“Oh come on not even a little?” Castor says with a surprised grin

“No I’m serious, I did not envy him” I say staring down at the ancient book on my desk

“But imagine all that time to live and experience things!” Shianni replies still amazed at the tale

“He bought that time with the life blood of others, and he lived on that hill alone save for an army of thralls, Immortality sounds good until you actually see the results, make no mistake...he was nothing more than a lonely hollow being up there on that hill surrounded by possessions and things, we each have a certain amount of time to live in this world and I intend to live mine as the Creators intended” I reply closing the old tome

“Then why keep that book? I thought you couldn’t wait to be gone from that village?” Castor asks confused

“Because Castor it’s a reminder, that eternal life is nothing but a gilded cage, Bann Lorne wanted immortality and in the process his life became nothing more than the pursuit of that goal, it’s not the time we have Castor it’s how we use it” I say placing the tome in the draw of my desk and closing it

“Now enough morbid talk believe we have an appointment with the royal court” I say with a smile

“Yeah let’s just hope Shianni can hold her tongue this time!” Castor says ducking to avoid Shianni

“At least I don’t spend all my time gawking at all the noblewomen!” Shianni replies

The two of them continue to tease each other like oversized children all the way to the palace, Creators they are an earache...wouldn’t have them any other way...
 

[westiex9]

Next time on Alienage Blues



The Tournament of the Scarlet Veil is about to begin in the Free marches and King Alistair is eagerly preparing to take part in the festivities, Fiona decides to have Erian and Castor keep an eye on events after a rumour circulates of a mysterious Assasin plotting to eliminate the king of Ferelden, Add to that every Orlesian Chevalier wanting to humuliate the King of Ferelden in front of every major ruler in Thedas and Erian Tor has his work cut out for him !

[Gilgamesh1138]

WOOT! Loved this as always westie! Nicely done. I can't wait for more Erian.

[Slim Warden]

Wonderful case West, and I can't wait for the Scarlet Veil.

[westiex9]

The Scarlet Veil: Part 1

Denerim, The Royal Palace 9:35 Dragon

"Is this blindfold really Necessary Fiona?" king Alistair asked as he was led into the room by his wife, who was smirking with satisfaction

"Im no expert in gift giving, not being an Orlesian wallflower...but..im pretty sure surprises are meant to be..surprising" Fiona replied with a girlish laugh, not something she did for just anyone

"Okay then what is it?, a new dog?" Alistair asked

"We already have Rabitt and i am never replacing him...Ever" Fiona Replied

"A Dragon Carved out of that fancy obsidian glass?" Alistair replied with a grin

'"We agreed never to mention your love of models!"' Fiona Replied with a mock frown

''Alright i give up! what is it?" Alistair asked his curiousity overcoming him

Fiona pulled back the blindfold to reveal a large suit of Court plate with a beatiful scarlet coloring, mabari and Dragons danced across its masterfully forged body and it shimmered in the evening candlelight

''Makers breath! its beautiful! where did you get this....this is too much!" Alistair replied stunned by the armours beauty  

''Nothing is too much for my Husband! besides you've brought prosperity to a wounded land and been working none stop since the year started, when you wanted to take part in the Tournament i decided to surprise you, the Armour is Antivan made and i had it specially forged for you my love'" Fiona replied with an adoring smile

''Well this explains the ''Diplomatic visit'' you paid to antiva three months ago'' Alistair said with a happy chuckle

they stared at the scarlet plate for a time in contented silence, the tournament in the free marches would soon begin and a king of Ferelden would put the pride of other nations to shame

*************************************************************

''Creators!! damn whichever one decided an elf should take to sea!!'' i moan as a stream of bile descends over the side of the royal galley

''Oh not again! Makers breath Erian! when you said you didn't like ships you wern't joking''Castor yells holding his nose to block out the stink

I don't like ships, not one bit, on the crossing to ostagar back in my army days i must have chucked over the side more times then most men in Ferelden are able to count to, so i suppose you would consider it strange that i am on this journey to the free marches of my own free will.

A month ago the city of Denerim, including the Alienage was awash with excitement, the famed tournaments held in the free marches every few years are always a source of commotion and rumours, but the news that the king intended to compete in the jousting got everyone in the city talking.

At the time i was avoiding any visits to court like a desperate man avoids the taint, My presence as the lands only Elven knight has made me something of a curiousity and not always in pleasant ways, but a month before the tournament was due to begin the court sought me out.

Queen Fiona summoned me to court and asked me to head security for the King, an honor to be sure, but also a bit of a burden given the number of Orlesian guests attending the event, but you can't really refuse a queen so i accepted, at least it gets me out of the city for a while.

and so on a cloudy morning in the waking sea...well i wasn't the only one with his head over the side of the galley....

''Just for the record i wanted to ride to the tourney!'' King Alistair moans as he wipes his stained lip beside me

''Finally a King who knows how i feel!" i mutter lying back against the deck

King Alistair is a very unkinglike monarch, as likely to be cracking jokes with the common folk as he is to be issuing royal edicts, a lot like his brother really...if more competant, i remember Cailan from the southern campaigns before Ostagar, never knew him personally, but being beaten in a game of cards by your own sovereign is an experience i am not likely to forget!

Kings in Ferelden have always had more in common with their people then those of other countries, i hear in Orlais the Nobles own everything and trade their peasants like market goods, but in a land of free men like Ferelden a king is expected to behave himself.

Alistair is said to have been a templar wash-out who had power forced upon him when Queen Fiona(then simply Fiona Cousland, if being a Cousland can ever be considered simple) stood against the Mac Tir's at the Landsmeet that ended the life of Teryn loghain and saw his daughter imprisoned in a tower. He seems more kingly then the reluctant man of the tales, but he certainly has the look and action of a reluctant ruler rather then an ambitious one.

''looks like were about to disembark'' Castor says excitedly

''Thank the Maker!'' King Alistair exclaims

In the distance the beaches and mountains of the patchwork land known as the Free marches beckon, thinly shrouded by sea mists, Soon we will land and ride towards the distant plains where knights from nearly every nation will soon gather, Castor seems almost irrepresibly excited, but something about that coastline gives me a bad feeling, instinct i guess.

*******************************************************
The village inn stank of sweat and cheap ale as Phillipe rose from his yellowing blankets, trying not to wake the snoring prostitute slumped on he bed's side, He was no noble and was used to filth and grime, a familiarity he had gained living as a street urchin in the slums of Val Royeux, this Inn was a luxury in comparison.

Phillipe ignored the dull ache from the previous nights socializing, alcohol was an excellant means of loosening tongues, but men grew suspicious when you did not sip from the cup also, dressing phillipe stared down at the orders that had been discreetly left for him in a stained and innocent looking parchment, no seal was present but this was expected.

Phillipe was a man with no noble blood and no privalege, he was the scion of societies lowest dregs, but this pitiful origin had in fact endowed him with he skills that ensured his passage from pauper to in demand specialist, Phillipe was killer, murder had been common in the slums and Phillipe had perfected his craft and honed it to near perfection.

Phillipe was renowned amongst the circles he travelled, he always got the job done and he did so without regret or remorse no matter how brutal the method or how innocent the mark, Phillipe had cast his conscience aside long ago like a snake shedding a used skin, all that he required was instructions and prompt payment and the job would be carried out.

But Phillipe had long found himself increasingly bored by the underworld dealings and squabbles of the Nobles of Orlais, they had become tedious and lacked the challenge his skills desired, so he had quietly jumped at the oppurtunity to raise the stakes when a mysterious intermediary had presented him with an offer from an unnamed party of interest, a tournament was to be held in the free marches and a king was taking part, that king would suffer an accident and Phillipe would receive handsome payment.

Phillipe was not an emotional man, but the chance to kill a king stirred his Cold blood with excitement for the first time since his youth when he had begun to take lives, his mind was awash with the same giddy build-up that a serpent has before swallowing a mouse or a spider as it prepares to dine upon a doomed fly.

This king would never see his homeland again, for he had been marked for death and his executioner was Phillipe the Black, Prince of Assasins.

[Slim Warden]

I'm really digging the plot of this Case, and I'm really happy that you're back.

[Gilgamesh1138]

Oh oh oh!!! So glad you are back westie! Love that Erian and Alistair have no sea legs. ROFL! Intrigue abounds! Can't wait for more.

[westiex9]

The Scarlet Veil part 2

Scarlet Veil Tournament Grounds, The Free Marches, Several miles east of StarkHaven 

The Free Marches are a place unlike any other in the world, i once read somewhere that this land was like a patchwork of all the cultures of Thedas, the Tourney grounds seem to add weight to that idea, upon our arrival at port we travelled inland to the plains outside the city of Starkhaven, and here an event the likes of which Thedas has not seen in some time is about to begin.

The Plains are covered with colored pavillions, their residents range from merchants and Petty Teryns all the way to the Empress of Orlais and the Queen and King of Ferelden, and the crowds that fill  pathways that make up this improvised city are just as diverse, Nevarran Princes in wonderous armour, Tevinter's in their distinctive silks, Rivani horsemen, Antivan circus acts and even the occasional Qunari. 

Keeping the King safe is proving to be a difficult task, his common roots are showing like an overturned tree and his indulgance of them is making him a target, to put it bluntly the young king has coerced me into accompanying him in disguise to the ale Pavillion with Castor, and these Crowds are making me tense, maybe im just paranoid and it will turn out to be nothing, but anyone could be concealing a weapon in the crowded confines of this makeshift tavern.

"Oh Maker....Huuuuggghhh!!" Castor says grasping his mouth 

"Too much Starkhaven stout lad?"I ask with a sly grin

"Thats not funny! this stuff should be illegal" Castor replies his face still pale 

"You know i think Eamon tried to get me to do just that once"Alistair says laughing

we are sat around a long table in the Pavillions side area, trying to remain discreet of course but i still think we should have avoided this trip, im pretty sure any Drunken Orlesian noble would jump at the chance to do in a few Ferelden's while no one was looking, and besides these Free Marchers charge a pretty penny for their ale.

And almost to confirm my fears, a tall Orlesian noble in a full mail coat marches towards us his ale spilling embarassingly down his surcoat, thats all i need, a drunken Orlesian picking a fight with the King's concealed party

"Hey Dog Lovers! i hear your puny king is jousting against Lord De Leon in two days! you might need a new king soon ah" he says laughing in a mocking tone 

"What makes you think we're Ferelden? maybe we're Anders" i say trying to scare him off

"Anders don't smell like wet dogs!" he replies 

"look we're not interested in trouble mate, go about your business would you" i say trying to give him a hint 

He looks at me and then goes for his sword, why is it always the stupid ones, a cloaked figure yells something from an ajoining table 

"Fight!!" and just like that the whole room descends into mayhem, Fen Harel is Laughing at me, i just know it

************************************************************
Fiona did not possess the same natural common touch as her husband, this was of course a result of having some of the bluest blood in all of Ferelden pumping through her veins, still she was no Orlesian and respected the common man as much as the Noble born, so she could easily understand Alistairs constant need to be among the rank and file, she even sympathised, he had afterall never wanted to be king.

The trouble was of course that this urge to be among the common folk often put the King in harms way, and Ferelden had already lost one king in the space of five years, it didn't need a second loss anytime soon,Fiona had suspected something was wrong from the moment Alistair had snuck out of the Royal tents and head for the ale pavillion, and her hunch had proven correct.

Alistair had been sitting with Erian Tor and Castor trying to look discreet, the trouble was that a quirky man in a cloak and a giant sized elf were anything but discreet, that and the number of Orlesians present made Alistair a very visible target. The Orlesian Chevalier had begun picking a fight as soon as he caught their accent, but it wasn't his actions that Caught Fiona's eye.

Fiona knew full well the dangers a monarch faced from assasination, she had been threatened by the hidden knife or sword as much as any monarch in Thedas, and she had Zevran to fill in any gaps in her knowledge, and Zevran and Fiona soon spotted the main threat to Alistair, a group fo men bearing concealed knives and led by a large man with a crossbow under cloak

"Look at the way that one moves! he is carrying a weapon, and i suspect he is going to use it on your beloved husband, and i thought this was going to be a dull trip!" Zevran chuckled 

"This isn't the sort of excitement i had in mind Zev, are you sure he's after Alistair?" Fiona asked frowning

"You know any other kings with a well known softness for the lower class?" Zevran asked

"Point taken, we need to block his little attempt" Fiona said rising from her seat 

"You have a plan then?" Zevran asked reaching for his sheathed daggers

"Yes and it won't involve your blades, we'll let the Tavern do that work for us" Fiona said as the drunken Chevalier began throwing insults

"Save the King and i'll warn Erian" Fiona said stepping forward

"Fight!!" She yelled as the Chevalier reach for his sword

Fiona grabbed a bottle of ale and hurled it at the Chevaliers head, the glass bottle smashed on the drunken mans skull with a loud crash knocking him out cold, the room became a scene of chaos as the crowds began to brawl almost on command, Zevran moved through the crowds as the distraction of a large fight blocked the cloaked enemies from their target, Fiona walked up to Erian and whispered

"Erian, theirs armed men in the crowd!" she said pointing to the cloaked figures struggling to push past a group of Nevarran's who were busy settling old scores with some Orlesian soldiers 

"I hate Bars!" Erian muttered running after the men as they realized they had been spotted

**************************************************************
Phillipe's plan was ruined, the sudden surge of violence in the pavillion blocking a shot from his concealed crossbow, worse still he had been spotted by the Kings big elf Bodyguard who was now pushing his way through the crowds towards Phillipe and his two assistants 

"Come we go" Phillipe said with a wave of his hand, the cloaked figures turned on their heel and pushed through the crowd trying to get out of the Pavillion 

The large elf meanwhile struggled to get past a large group of Dwarven folk as they moved towards the exit, Phillipe grinned inwardly, while this was certainly a setback Phillipe had a backup plan which he decided would more then cover the failure in the Pavillion, it would certainly be more direct and much more public, but his employers would care little as long as the Job was done, and one way or the other this common King would die
******************************************************************
Did i Mention i hate bars? well maybe its a new pet hate...maybe that should be i hate guarding my nations king inside of large and dangerous bars, Queen Fiona was watching the whole time and no sooner had that fight started then an accented elf spirited the King off to safety with Castor, leaving me to chase after his would be killers

I shove my way past a bunch of Dwarves who seem intent on fighting anything taller then them, the cloaked assasins rush down the muddy paths outside as i try to keep up, theres three of them and one of them is running with a visible limp in one leg, deciding i won't be able to catch them all i focus on him.

Well at least i focus on him for about a second, the shriek of a crossbow bolt as it swoops past my head and impacts in a mans leg kind of throws me off balance for a moment, and sends the people outside into a crazed panic, these guys mean business and they arn't keen on me following them in any capacity

"Stop!" i yell hoping to attract the guards attention, but i suspect the Queen's distraction worked both ways as the guards are likely busy breaking up the fight in the Pavillion  
 
The three figures try to escape by cutting through a row of blacksmith stalls, causing me to have to leap over anvils and weapon stands to keep up, they begin to gain ground regardless of my progress though, i decide to take drastic measures 

"Herren! this spear is absolutley dreadful! why can't her majesty ever get me to make nice things like back in Amaranthine" a bald and mustached man grumbles as he holds a very high quality steel spear in his hand

"The Queen is paying us good coin to advertise Denerim's Metal working skill Wade! besides your dueling sword for the kings joust was more then artistic!" the man who i assume is Herren replies in a slightly condesending voice

"Excuse me can i borrow that? Royal business im afraid!" i say snatching the spear from Wade's hand, if that limping assasin had issues with his leg before he's about to have a rather larger one shortly, courtesy of Seargant Tor's deadly throwing arm, and who said the army never taught a man useful skills? 

"Lets see you run after this!" i say hurling the spear at the limping assasin, the steel point finds its mark as it glides through the air and stabs into the back of the limping mans bad leg, he falls over with a pained yhelp and begins to crawl 

I run towards him and grab him by his collar, his hood falls back to reveal a pox marked and very bony looking man's face, he glares at me with two beady rat like eyes, i guess he didn't take me skewering his leg very well...the more a guy tries to reach out the more he gets rejected

"Now that i have your attention maybe you'd like to follow me and answer a few questions!" i say dragging the man with me by his collar

We move through the stalls stopping briefly at the Spear makers stall 

"I believe this is yours" i say tearing the spear from the would be assasins leg, the assasin giving a pained grunt

"Errr...no you keep that..a gift for the queen!" Herren says with a disturbed look

"Oh wonderful...I get the Point" I say shouldering the spear and dragging my new freind with me

"What it was a joke! creators you killers are a humourless bunch!" i reply when the assasin just stares at me 

 Looks like its off to the royal tent for a spot of everyones favourite game, punch the assasin till he tells you the truth, i wonder if Fiona still has the services of that Qunari? anyway better not keep my sovereigns waiting, they might get worried!

[Gilgamesh1138]

LOVE it westie! As usual. ROFL Wade and Herren, always good for a laugh. And "punch the assassin." LOL!

[Slim Warden]

SO much to love when it comes to Wade and Herren, their like the odd couple. Fantastic West, I can't wait for the next entry and Phillipe seems like a ripe piece of work.

[westiex9]

The Scarlet Veil Chapter 3

Scarlet Veil Tournament Grounds, Ferelden Royal Pavillions

Interrogation is nasty work, you have to break a person in both body and spirit to get them to talk and that means repetition, repetition of the same questions over and over even as you pound at their body with fist or worse. This particular assasin is not going to make things easy, we take turns in working on him, the candles sometimes go out while we're doing the work, making things even more difficult, this entire secluded tent is a miniature universe of pain.

"Who are you working for? Tell us!!" a member of Maric's shield yells while holding a torch a few inches away from the assasins face 

"Sod you!" he spits, earning a punch on the nose in response 

"This line of questioning isn't working" Fiona mutters as the guard walks over to her shaking his head 

"Why not try fear? you know try to get into his head" Castor says staring at the bloody mess of a man tied to the chair

"Hmmm..he is alone,,we should work on that.." Fiona replies clearly interested

"Well it can't hurt our chances of getting him to talk, so far he hasn't said a word" I say as the assasin grunts in response to a candle being held under his feet

"Okay Lad go and see what you can do, put that Denerim University education to good use"Fiona replies with a smile

Its true, Castor was one of the first elven students to attend the university that King Alistair opened near the beggining of his reign, Castor has never been much use in physical areas, but when it comes to anything academic or obscure he is a master of his field.

"ill need you to come with me" Castor says picking up a large tome "Be the bad Guardsman" he says with a grin

We walk towards the prisoner and take seats, he glares at me and trys to spit, but his face is a bruised mess and instead it just rolls down his chin pathetically, Castor stares at him for a moment and then sighs opening a the tome, i notice the lettering on the side, a guide to the free marches no less.

"Did you know, the free marches have never been united under one man? thats right a whole patchwork of petty states all busy squabbling over power and land" he says smiling as if he was a school teacher giving a lesson

"whats your point elf?" he mutters through battered lips

"No one is going to care about one failed assasin in this mess of a land, their all to busy feuding and arguing, your trapped in this tent and no one will come for you" Castor says with a dark smile

"Sod you Knife ears!!" he growls

"You can drop the agressive act, there is no point in struggling, no one is coming for you, the constable at Starkhaven doesn't even know you exist, we could drag you off to fort drakon and torture you for months and no one would come for you"  I say with a cold stare

"I don't know anything your wasting your time!" he laughs

"Oh i think you do know something...who were you accompanying? tell us and this torture will all stop, what have you got to lose?" Castor asks like a man pleading with a wounded patient

The assasin stares around the room for a moment and then speaks "Andraste hired me! and the man at my side was Garahel!" he says laughing, Castor sighs as i rise from my seat, time to play the bad Guardsman

"You know i used to have to listen to this sort of thing back in the army" i say drawing my boot knife

"The torturers in Loghain's camp would work on the captives all night long, i hear they would start slow, tearing fingernails and cutting off fingers, but apparently they would castrate the really stubborn ones, now im not a torturer but i think you would want to keep your manhood intact" I say moving closer knife drawn

"Sod you elf!!" he yells

"Guess we'll start slow then!" i reply cutting off one of his ears with a swift slashing movement, he begins to howl pained

"Who were you working with!!" i yell holding the bleeding ear to his face threateningly

"Oh maker!! he's some Orlesian Killer...i don't know anything else i swear!!" he pleads, the pain finally begging to break his resolve

"He's lying Erian" Castor replies still sat in his chair "i can tell. hes blinking too much" Castor says grimly

"Looks like ill have to play fingers then!" i say slicing off one of his fingers

"Oh Maker!!! arrrgghhhhh!!!!" he howls as i sawing the finger from his left hand

"Tell us please! this will all stop if you tell the truth!" Castor implores the assasin who now pants heavily as i throw his severed finger to the ground

"Alright! alright! his name is Phillipe, Phillipe the black, he's a big name in Orlais and specialises in killing high profile targets, we were told to find your king and eliminate him, i don't know who wanted the job done...but i know Phillipe was the man to do it" he says still panting weakly

"He's telling the truth" Castor says staring at the bloodied prisoner

"Okay call the mage and tell him to see what he can do" I say moving past the prisoner Castor in tow

The Orlesians have never had a particularly good relationship with Ferelden, but the current empress seems to want peace regardless of her thoughts as to our level of sophistication, they would be the obvious target but i think this is more complex then just Orlesians trying to kill the King

"Looks like we have a name" Fiona says as we exit the tent

"But we still have no idea who ordered this attack" i reply

"I already have my Spy Master Bann Carling checking for leads, we'll know soon enough"  Fiona says confidantly

"What do we do in the meantime?" i ask

"The Tournament joust begins in one day, Alistair is taking part in the tournament, it would arouse suspicion if we suddenly pulled out" Fiona says with a grim look on her face

"what about that incident at the ale tent?" i ask wondering if it will have consequences

"The local guards are a little more edgy, but no one knows the king was in the tavern, it is being treated as a bar brawl and nothing more" she replies with a slight grin

"So we are just to pretend nothing happened while your spies gather more information?" I ask worried

"No, you still need to keep an eye on Alistair, theres a major state dinner this evening between Ferelden and Orlais and i need you to keep watch over the king...If he's vulnerable anywhere its at an Orlesian state dinner" she replies

"Well at least the food might be good" i say with a grin

"Just watch out for the snails, i hear they are ghastly" Fiona says laughing

Dinner with the Orlesians and an assasin hiding somewhere in the free marches waiting to strike, I have an entirely new level of respect for royal bodyguards, this job is madness!

**********************************************

The package arrived at Phiilipe's tent late, the courier handing it to the assasin wordlessly and then leaving, it contained all the items Phillipe needed, a poisoned bolt and a concealed crossbow to fire it, it also contained a note

"We are growing impatient with your lack of progress, this king must not survive the tournament, the joust takes place in a days time, you are to eliminate him there and then, failure will not be tolerated a second time

Signed 
Your Benefactors" 

Phillipe held the note to the candle and let it burn, the parchment shrivelling as the flames consumed it, he felt a sudden spike of anger, this king was making him look inept, and that aroused anger as nothing else could. Phillipe would not fail a second time, his employers would get their blood and then they would pay him handsomely.

Phillipe began to study the map of the jousting grounds, King Alistair was to challenge Lord Paul De Leon in a freindly game of jousting(if this sport could ever be called freindly) as a sign of good will between the two nations, there was an middle stand overlooking the joust and the roof would make the perfect location to target the Ferelden king. 

To kill a king in a greasy ale tent was one thing, but to eliminate him in broad daylight in front of the assembled nations of the world was an act of perfection for any assasin, the failure in the ale pavillion would almost be worth it if Phillipe could pull off this feat, and he knew he could, for he was Phillipe the Black, killer of kings.


 

Modifié par westiex9, 22 juillet 2010 - 12:39 .

[Slim Warden]

The Interrogation was priceless, and I was suprised when I saw our favorite Chevalier, keep it coming West.

[westiex9]

The Scarlet Veil Chapter 4


The morning sun is blinding as I step into the early dawn, the night before seems like an angry haze that I’m only just beginning to shake off, I guess Orlesian wine doesn't agree with me after all. Security was tight at the Orlesian pavilion on the night of the banquet and I needn't have worried about the King, no one was going to risk killing him if it meant earning the displeasure of the Empress, so I was little more than an observer to the evening’s events. 


While the Queen conversed with the Empress I watched King Alistair and lord De Leon, the guy had a certain something about him, he'd seen things in the Ferelden rebellion, that much was clear, I hear he was stuck in the country for most of the war, and like all the company I seem to find myself in he wore the scars of his trials on his face. Lord De Leon was a man who had seen things and done things that most men would never have to or want to, but he retained the healthy sanity of a human being and I got the feeling that he was a good man, which is not a feeling I get much when it comes to Orlesians. 


The evening had ended well, it was little more than a glorified meet and greet anyway, and our assassin was probably busy watching from a distance if he was even present at all. But the night was over and the day had arrived, my king was to joust and the world was going to be watching. I had ordered the constable to post extra guards and keep an eye out for anything, but I got the feeling he wasn't taking me seriously, worse still the jousting grounds were an assassin’s dream, high boxes for the audiences made a potential archer difficult to spot even with extra men on hand.


Castor and I were nervous enough as it was, but the sudden surge of crowds only added to the tension, people wanted to see a joust between two nations and no amount of rumoured assassination was going to deter them, I cursed inwardly as the crowds filled the joust boxes, this was going to be one creators cursed mess to deal with.


Up on the stands the nobles of countless nations began to watch as he King and Lord De Leon took up their positions, my eyes darted from side to side, something was wrong, I could feel it like a nail being scratched across my skin, instinct was telling me that any minute something was going to happen.


The Trumpet sounded and the two jousting figures began to gallop at full speed towards each other lances drawn, I saw the flash of something metallic in the largest stand, and then the world slowed to a crawl, Castor yelled out something which I couldn't hear and pointed to the stand, something screeched past towards the kings position, I felt my heart pound so hard the thing threatened to smash through my ribs and run from my chest on newly sprouted legs.


The crossbow bolt missed its mark as the screams erupted from the stands, it had lodged itself in an unexpected place, Lord Paul De Leon lowered his shield, the rampant lion on the front glaring out at the world with raised claws, and he smiled briefly and then tore the bolt free with a mailed fist. 


I had no time to congratulate him on saving my sovereign, I ran breaking into a sprint as I drew a sword and called for the guards, he wasn't going to get away this time that I would make sure of. As I ran the world began to blur around me, I was focused entirely on my quarry that now fled across the roof of the stands.
*******************************************************************************

Philippe ran across the rooftops his legs pounding on the oak boards and sending up clouds of dust, he had failed once again and it stinged greater than any wound he had ever received, it was that damn elf that the king always had at his side, it was like the maker (if Philippe had truly ever believed in such a thing) had endowed that knife eared flunky with some sort of divine luck, Philippe decided he would have to do things the bloody way, he wouldn’t flee again even if it cost him his life, he was an assassin and if he died killing this king at very least he would die doing the thing he loved most.

He leapt off the rooftop his knives drawn, he would head straight for that king and kill him with the cold steel he was usually so loathe to use, perhaps the visceral approach was not subtle but it was effective. The king was up ahead as he leapt from the straw filled wagon he had landed in, he would have to be quick with his strike, the guards would catch up and tear him to ribbons in mere moments, he broke into the fastest sprint of his short and violent life, he would give everything for this final strike, everything.

Time slowed into a crawl as he leapt towards the king, the noble next to him drew his blade but was too still too slow to catch the lord of assassins. Philippe struck and for the briefest of moments it seemed he had succeeded, a spray of crimson blood flew upwards as his knife cut into the Ferelden ruler’s unguarded neck, the one week spot in court plate was the gap between helm and collar and Philippe had exploited it perfectly. He watched the world still flowing in slow motion as the Scarlet armoured king fell back from his horse, he had succeeded and nothing else mattered, but then the cold kiss of a blade tore through the languid veil and he was pull back into the real world, the screech of agony that his flesh seemed to sing was unimportant, he had done it, killed a king.

Philippe’s joy soon turned to horror however, the king rose, aided by the hand of the Orlesian lord, Philippe stared in amazement, he had missed the kings neck by the slimmest of margins, a miracle for the young sovereign and a curse for Philippe, suddenly his wound felt more serious and as his excitement vanished, he turned to see the tall elf standing over him, a large halberd in hand.

“Time to Head off I think “the elf said with a contended smirk, Philippe cursed the Maker that the last words he would hear were to be so corny.


The Halberd flashed like a bolt of silver lightning and Philippe felt a sharp sting as his head was sliced free, for moments he was spinning and then he stared at his own knees, it took him the rest of his short existence to understand why, then the universe went dark. The King of assassins was dead, long live the King.

I stare down at the pool of blood that flows from the assassin’s corpse with a mix of curiosity and exhaustion, that was too close by far and it was all I could do to stop him getting another swipe at the King. Alistair is standing and from the look of things is going to be fine, between the fussing of his Wife and a white haired lady in mage robes I think he’s in safe hands.

“That was insane; I am never going to be able to attend jousts again after this, too much stress” Castor grumbles hands held high in exasperation

“Relax; they don’t usually end like this....well...at least not with assassins anyway” I say leaning on the halberd, which I snatched from a guard at the last minute, convenient I know, almost like someone meant for that to happen, how cliché

“How in the Fade are we going to catch the people who hired this guy, unless you know how to question a man with no head?” Castor yells noticing the severed head at my feet

“Relax lad I’ll handle that, I have a feeling I know who was behind this all anyway” Queen Fiona says picking up the severed head with mailed glove

“But how can you track a source with no lead?” I ask knowing the lead has just met an untimely death

“Trust me Erian, every assassination plot has a source, besides...I think my yearly prison date with our former
queen is long overdue” Fiona says with a slightly wicked grin

“So this is the ending? You just take this all out of my hands and that’s okay! This is ridiculous!” I yell as if the sky holds some malicious deity with a quill who’s gotten tired of me for the day

“Err...Erian? Who are you talking to?”Castor asks as everyone begins to stare at me as if I’ve lost my mind

“Forget it” I say shouldering the halberd, my target knows who they are

“Okay I’m tired and I’ve been stabbed, take me home!” Alistair yells annoyed

Suddenly Denerim seems a lot more inviting, yes home seems like an ideal place right now, and the Alienage is beckoning me, calling for more adventures and more trials, time to leave this place and return to the Alienage, to my home both wretched and beautiful. To those muddy uneven streets where old men sing even older songs, home.

Authors note: Okay I’ll be the first to admit I brought this one to an abrupt close,  after 21 days of writer’s block this needed to end and you needed to see a conclusion, Erian will have plenty of fresh adventures as I’ve hinted in the conclusion, but I think this one made me hit the wall. I tried to give this the speedy and humorous finale that would at least salvage some entertainment from this mess of a case, sorry I kept you waiting all that time, but just think this case is closed but others will open all too soon.

[westiex9]

Sometimes it seems like life can't get any better, its like fate has finally thrown you a bone like a good master, and then BAM!! something bad happens and the universe reasserts itself like a vicious landlord coming to collect the rent.

Now as far as City Elves go Erian Tor has done pretty well for himself, knighthood, official position within the city Guard and even a tidy sum of wealth and royal favour. Well the universe is coming to collect on the rent and it aint going to be pretty.
 
Thats right! Alienage Blues is going back to its gritty and Guttural roots in the Denerim alienage, a place where life is cheap and death stalks the alleyways like an angry case of the taint, yep Erian is about to have one hell of a bad day!

First his Ex-Wife's head shows up outside his front door, then he starts getting messages from a mysterious source who seems to enjoy taunting our hero at every turn! thats right murder is back on the streets of Denerim and its buying lives at discounted prices! A killer is stalking the city and has decided to set Erian a little challenge...He's going to kill someone at the end of each week and it isn't going to be a pretty way to go... and If Erian doesn't stop him it might be someone he cares about

Get ready for a serious case of Bad Karma as we plunge Alienage blues right back into its twisted and murky depths!!!

[westiex9]

I Be’s Troubled By Evil Part 1
 
I woke up with a start, my shirt sticky with sweat and a bottle on its side next to couch I’m lying on, the fireplace is dead and the sudden coldness of the room causes my skin to prickle with Goosebumps, I must have been overdoing it with the South reach ale again.
 
I drag myself off the couch and try and find the wash basin, it suddenly becomes important to cleanse myself of the sweat and haze of last night with some ice cold water, a few buckets and a set of fresh clothes later I feel cold but clean again, walking back into the office which occupies the third floor of the building I call home I can’t help but stare out at the Alienage through the rooms large window.

The site of those sprawling and often fire and war ravaged buildings is a depressing one, it’s been five years since the blight ended and five years since the new regime came to power, id thought the wave of change and reform capable of solving every problem in the Alienage and embraced it whole heartedly, but seeing those scarred and blackened buildings dotting the Alienage like pox marks on a plague victims skin make me wonder if I and others have actually achieved any long term progress for the Elves, faced with such desolation any thoughts of progress or joy melt away like wax figures that have been dropped into a fire.

Sighing I slump down in my chair hoping to bury myself in reports or to fall asleep and forget the sight of the Alienage, but fate has other plans for me today, the first scream echoes up through the rafters and is soon repeated by others in the streets below, the sound is close probably coming from my porch.

I stumble down the creaking stairs as the screams grow louder worried at what I’m going to see when I hit the ground floor, don’t get me wrong I’ve probably seen more horrors then most men will ever imagine but I’m not looking forward to seeing the cause for this commotion, not one bit.

The city guardsman badge hanging from my neck on a length of steel chain pounds against my chest as I rush for the door, I grab it and squeeze it for extra strength, and then I open the door and the sight which will haunt me for years to come stares at me through cold dead eyes.

Vima, my estranged wife’s head stares up at me, the final horrific moments of life burned onto her face for all eternity by their gruesome nature, the memories of our last meeting suddenly fill my eyes, like a fire lighting itself suddenly in a cold and empty room

“If you want to die for the bloody humans be my guest! I’ll stay here where we belong!”

“You made your choice when you left for the war! Now get lost and take your cheap jewellery with you!”

We were never a particularly idyllic couple, we married young like most people these days do, it was a good arrangement for both of us more than anything, I went out and made a meagre pay doing odd jobs for Valendrian or working on the docks and she kept the house in working order while I was away. I don’t know if we ever truly loved each other, I can’t remember much intimacy between us at all, but I do remember at least some level of respect being present, at least in the early days of marriage.

But then the war came to Ferelden and Cailan called his people to arms, I eagerly answered his call and packed for the journey south and that’s when she started to really hate me, Vima was a hardworking Alienage woman and she’d been raised to despise the humans who humiliated her on a daily basis and forced her to work in menial jobs and live in a wall off slum, my joining the army ruined our arrangement and it must have seemed like a betrayal on my part because she believed the war to be a human problem, id left the city after heated arguments, and id returned to find my house an alien place with my position usurped by another man. The coldness of those memories seems to bite into my soul as I stand there gazing into her face.

The sudden realization that tears are lining my face and a series of angry sobs are leaving my mouth seems sudden and I feel as though I’m not in control, like I’m looking at myself from the outside, I never loved Vima and I doubt she had different sentiments, but no one deserves such a gruesome fate, I spent years of my life with this woman and while they weren’t idyllic they were important to me...they were mine, and now someone has taken her from the world, and even though she threw me out on the street I can’t help but howl in despair at the sight before me.

My eyes are red rimmed and stinging with tears by the time the city guard arrives to disperse the crowd and deal with the head, Castor is with them and he helps me back into the house and up the stairs, I feel weak...as though someone just tore some of the life from my body, the city guardsmen soon clean up the mess and post some men outside the house, and Kylon my old friend and boss soon arrives to talk with me.

“Erian...I’m sorry, I can’t imagine what seeing that must have been like for you, but we need to talk about this” he says placing a note on my desk, it’s a scrap of parchment stained and slightly wet

“What is this?” I say in a hoarse voice

“The killer left it in your wife’s mouth” Kylon says grimly

I stare at the poorly written handwriting scrawled on the note, it’s not Chantry material script but it gets the message across:

“Hey Erian!

Hope you’re having as much fun as I am that little surprise was just the first of many! The **** screamed when I
started working her and I just had to shut her up! She’s my gift to you... I’ve got a vision for this city and I want you to bear witness to its birth, we’re going to play a little game you and I, I’m going to kill more of these little chickens and you’re going to try and stop me, this is going to be so much fun! I wonder if the bodies I’m going to lay at your feet will hurt you as much as the one I left for you today.

Regards

Blood soaked Tom”

I stare at the letter and suddenly I’m not horrified I’m angry...no angry doesn’t describe the fire like rage that fills me at the sight of that name...no this is something far more terrible then simple anger, my fist slams on the table and I yell out his name loudly

“Tooooooommmmmmmmmm!!!” I yell almost growling that vile name fist raised

Tom, one of the most violent and disturbing cases I’ve ever had to deal with, and this one was before I even left for the war,  back in those days I worked as one of Valendrian’s helpers in the Alienage, I looked into things that were troubling the Alienage, and Tom was definatley troubling the community.

Blood soaked Tom is a name id rather forget, the only one that ever eluded me, he was a troubled kid even in those days, I hear his parents had arrived in Denerim after they were driven out of Gwaren by angry bigots and torches, the family had come into money and purchased a house outside the Alienage walls, the locals had stepped in to remind them why they had sheltered behind those walls to begin with. From what I hear Tom’s father got dragged out of the house and lynched, his flayed corpse hanging from a nearby tree for days afterwards.   

The scene had clearly scarred the young teen, and by the time he arrived in Denerim Alienage he was already killing dogs and other animals that he found wandering the streets, I remember finding their flayed remains on the streets cobbled pavement, completely skinned.

Id followed the trail of bodies back to their source, a small apartment in the most run down section of the Alienage, I’ll never forget the scene that greeted me when I entered that room, it was like stepping into a butchers abattoir, the smell of gore and the buzz of flies permeating the room and making each step a sickening descent into a vile realm, it was to be the first of many horrors i would bear witness to.

Tom had never liked his mother, least not from what I remember of their time together, in his twisted mind her inability to save his father had not been due to obvious reasons such as the angered human mob or her absolute terror, no to Tom his mother had chosen to let his father die and he seemed to genuinely believe that.

I’ll never forget walking into that room to find a skinned corpse hanging from a hook on the ceiling and Tom sat below letting the blood drip onto his face, he’d been apprenticed to a local butcher if I remember correctly, but he seemed less interested butchering in animals then Elves. He didn’t even turn to face me as I entered the room, he just sat there knife at his feet chanting an old Ferelden nursery rhyme over and over in a chilling voice

“Come come Bonnie Lyn tells us where you’ve been” he kept chanting that line constantly

Even my horrified look had not broken the illusion in that mad teens head, no he was a kid in the playground and nothing was going to wipe the manic grin from his face not even reality, I remember raising a fist and punching him out cold, id called the locals to the scene and hoped to get the guard to arrest him.

But despite being left under the guard of two strong elven men something had happened, i guess Fen Harel had been watching that day, and he must have been amused by Tom’s performance, because when we returned to that apartment with the local guards Tom was gone and the two men who’d been guarding him were dead, one had his throat cut and the other had a fork through his eye. That boy may not have been born a killer, but the horrors he’d witnessed had warped his mind and now it was like a second nature to him, beneath that innocent and youthful exterior lurked something else, something animal and savage.

We’d thought that he would turn up and left the matter in the hands of the law, but they never caught Tom, and even though Valendrian told me to drop the case I couldn’t help but think that someday I and Tom would have a reunion and that it would not be a pretty one. I’ve never wanted to be wrong more badly in my entire life.

Author’s note: Alienage Blues was always meant to be a Denerim story, we’ve been to other parts of the world but something about this rickety and scarred place always brings us home, Alienage blues is about the nastier side of life, and while I like to have some lighter hearted moments every now and then, it’s always good to get back to the Inky darkness that makes this Fanfic so fun to write. Also brownie points if you can spot the Blues Reference in the title.

[westiex9]

I Be’s Troubled by Evil Part 2
 
The tiny apartment reeked of stale sweat and blood, the walls were cracked and insects crawled along them occasionally stopping to inspect the red stains on the rotting wood. Tom liked his room it was small, secure and the landlord didn’t care about the smell of blood that filled it. He had arrived in Denerim months ago drawn to the city by a voice inside his soul whose words burned inside his head.
 
Tom had been sleeping in a ruin the night his guest first came to him, he had been in the Free Marches then and had just fled the ancient City of Kirkwall, a weeklong spree of violent murders against the cities elven prostitutes had finally aroused the suspicion of the Templar’s and he had decided to flee and try his luck somewhere else.
 
After leaving the city he had made his way into the surrounding countryside, it had begun to rain as the faded and he had searched for a place to rest for the night, what he found was a ruined old back road shrine that had been erected millennia ago by the Tevinter Imperium, it was a small stone building with a statue inside, as Tom had entered the shrine he had been greeted by the damaged but still leering face of Toth of Dumat. Tom had decided the place would serve as a good shelter from the rain and slumbered beneath the great dragon statue without a moment’s thought.
 
It was in a dream that the voice found Tom, he was in his mother’s house in the Alienage, skinning her alive as he had done all those years ago, Tom hated women and took pleasure in making them suffer gruesomely and then as he stood over the flayed corpse coated in gore something whispered to him
 
“Ah finally one who appreciates the joys of the slaughter, your skills are impressive Tom but without purpose” the voice whispered its sound filling his head like the screech of nails on a chalk board
 
Tom had been surprised, not so much by the fact a voice was filling his dreams but rather because it knew his name
 
“Who are you? How do you know my name?”Tom had responded surprised
 
“I have watched you for a long time, observed as you grew stronger and more skilled with every victim.... you fascinate me” the voice replied with an eerily fond tone
 
“I do good work on these vile ****s so what!” Tom said angry at the intruder’s curiosity
 
“Look at yourself tom, all that violent genius and no purpose, you waste your talents on cheap ****s while your hearts true desire waits on the other side of the ocean!” the voice said in a scolding tone
 
“How do you know what my “Hearts desire” is? I don’t like people spying on me!” Tom asked in an irritated voice

“Because we share a common enemy who has flustered both of our goals” the voice replied
 
“Erian Tor! That nosy bastard caught me after I gave that traitor **** what she had coming! Ruined everything I had planned!” Tom roared suddenly enraged
 
The voice laughed loudly, its chuckle like the sound of a thousand buzzing flies, a shadow filled the dreamscape and darkness slithered towards Tom and rested upon his shoulder
 
“We have a common enemy; we both want Erian Tor to suffer for his transgressions!” the voice said whispering in Tom’s ear
 
Tom calmed at bit at the thought of making Erian suffer, but then he snorted and picked up his cleaver pointing it at the shadow which retreated back slightly
 
“I could go to Denerim anytime I wanted, could kill Erian easy I could! Why do I need you? “Tom asked challenging the voice
 
“Because without me you are just another killer, without a purpose satiating himself on society’s dregs! Without me you’re just another stray dog to be put down, and sooner or later the fools who hide behind masks of innocence and decency will put you down! I’m offering you power and the opportunity for revenge” the voice said as Tom lowered the cleaver
 
“What’s the catch then?” Tom asked
 
“Simply allow me to dwell within you for a time, and I shall guide you to Erian” The voice replied in an almost innocent sounding voice
 
Tom thought about the voices proposition for a moment, it was true that he was wasting his time on ****s and he did want Erian dead, after all was it not Erian who had ruined everything by stopping his revels? And now this stranger was offering him a chance at vengeance and power as well, the opportunity was too good to pass up.
 
“All right you can hitch a ride then, but Erian better die or else this deal is off!” Tom said accepting the voices offer
 
“Oh I assure you that he will die and it will be a slow and agonising demise! Now...let me in!!” the voice yelled loudly
 
A shriek echoed through the room and the shadows swarmed across Tom’s flesh, soon the inky darkness had cocooned the young elf and seeped into every gap of his mouth, ears, nose and eyes it had engulfed him.
 
“Fool! Your first mistake was listening to me, your second was accepting my offer, but don’t worry I am a kind master and Erian will still die, you might even enjoy this, as long as you remember who is I control that is!” the voice whispered in a mocking tone
 
Possessed by this thing! It had infected his very soul and now controlled him, Tom would have screamed but the beast had long since possessed his body and blocked any terrified outcry, Tom was a pawn in his own body.
 
Month’s later Tom lay huddled in the darkened corner of his tiny apartment the beast whispering in his ear
 
“No I can’t keep this up; he’ll find us he always does!!” Tom screamed at the thing in his head
 
A shadow slithered along the battered walls above him, darkness flowed across the room and a gentle almost soothing voice filled Tom’s ear
 
“Just a little longer...and he will come for you...and then I shall make him suffer, but first you have a task to complete!” the voice hissed, Toms mind filled with images of a young elven woman with dark hair and almost boyish short dark hair
 
“Who...is that?” Tom asked his head aching from the creature’s presence within it
 
“Valerie, she and he are...close, she will be the perfect bait to lure him to us” the beast said in a voice that bordered on maniacal laughter
 
“No please no more! I just want to sleep!!” Tom wailed and before sobbing and clawing at his face with cracked and dirt stained fingernails
 
“You will do as I say Churl, or I shall inflict upon you torments worse than a thousand lashes!” the beast snarled angrily
 
Tom felt an unseen force drag him to his feet, it was time to go to work and he would have no choice but to obey, it was time to find Valerie and Tom promised himself that he would take pleasure in her suffering; it would make for a brief distraction from the twisting horrors of this prison like apartment.
 
 

[westiex9]

Chapter 3
 
The pauper’s graveyard of Denerim’s impoverished districts, final resting place for those unfortunate souls too poor to afford proper burials, most of the graves are just ashes scattered in pits and filled with soil, but then there’s a few dwarven graves here as well, The autumn winds were picking up as Valerie trudged through piles of dry leaves that littered the floor of this old place.
 
The graves were unmarked usually, some people were even buried in mass pits if you believed the stories about the aftermath of the blight, this place was a veritable landscape of gravestones that said as much about the impoverished state of their residents in life as they did about the manner of their deaths.
 
Valerie sighed as she moved through the vast necropolis that was the paupers graveyard, taking special care to step on every leaf to ensure they made that glorious crunching sound that she loved so much, it had been over a year since she had last been here but she made sure she returned every year to this place to pay her respects.
 
Valerie stopped and pull back her cloaks hood, before her was a small unmarked gravestone without inscription, she knelt before it and reached for something in her pocket, it was a large bunch of roses the sort her mother used to love and tied around them was a small locket in the shape of the sword of mercy, it was studded with bright gems.
 
 
“Hi mum, hope you like your present, some Antivan nobles were kind enough to let me relieve them of it, don’t worry though...Real scumbags beat their slaves an all” she said gently removing the locket and thrusting it into the soil
 
Valerie remembered the last time she was in Denerim for any extended period, it had been her infamous heist of the late Arl Urien’s prized hound statuette, and she remembered it well as it had been the first time she’d seen her teenage lover Erian in more years then she could count
 
“I’m single and tied to this city, that’s what he said mum... I miss him you know, a guy like that...well he’s a rare thing” Valerie said smiling at the memories of their misspent youth
 
She remembered when they were both young and stupid, they would constantly be off chasing adventures and getting into trouble together, happiness wasn’t a word often associated with the alienage but when she was with Erian she might as well have been the happiest woman in the world, but that had all been cut short, her mother had been murdered and she had fled, leaving Erian to suffer under Vima’s loveless union for far too long.
 
“I should go see him; even if it’s just a short visit...do you think I should mum?” Valerie asked as if hoping for a sign
 
Then she heard a sound that chilled her to the bone, a low hiss like a snakes as it slithers towards its prey, another sound one of heavy boots crushing leaves filled the air, she turned in time to see a cloaked figure in tattered clothing moving towards her worn boots thumping on the uneven cobbles.
 
Valerie reached for her knives, she knew trouble when she saw it, and all those years in Orlais, Nevarra and Antiva had endowed her with an instinctive knack for smelling danger. She gripped the knife handles tightly wondering if she would have to use them or if she could talk her way out of this situation.
 
“What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy paying my respects?” Valerie said hoping the stranger would sod off if challenged, it was a hope that was in vain.
 
The stranger continued moving towards her, she drew her knives and challenged again
 
“You’ll turn around and take a stroll in the opposite direction if you don’t want to lose something you’ll regret later” Valerie said pointing her knives at the cloaked figure
 
“But my dear, didn’t you just say you wanted to see Erian again?” a voice like nails on a chalk board said with a twisted laugh
 
“What...how do you know about Erian? Who sent you!” she yelled angrily
 
The man didn’t answer instead he reached out with one arm and then scratched across it with his dirty fingernails creating a long bloody scratch, blood began to ooze down his arm, the man whispered words in a strange tongue that Valerie recognised as Tevinter, the wound seemed to glow and two burning red eyes stared into hers, she felt weak and something inside her compelled her to loosen the grip on the knives, she let them fall to the ground they clattered loudly as they hit the stone pavement.
 
“Come with me” the voice hissed
 
Valerie’s legs started move as the command was given, deep inside her soul she was screaming and struggling to resist, but it was to no avail she was caught in the snare like a fish on the hook, there was no chance to run from a blood mage and she knew it.
 
Denerim Butchers district


 
As I rush down the muddy rain soaked streets I know I’m doing something very stupid, the package that was left for me outside the city guard headquarters contained a note and two beautifully crafted Dalish Dar’Misu blades, the note makes things abundantly clear
 
“Erian
I have her, meet me at the place you used for Trysts with her all those long years ago, or the next time you see her will be in bloody pieces!
Tom”
 
As soon as I read that note I was running, Castor’s protests lost in the wind, if I don’t get to her who knows what that monster will do! The very thought causes me to run faster and ignore the chaos around me as slam into people and push through the busy street crowds. How Tom ever learned about me and Valerie I have no idea, but he has her and he will do unnatural things to her if I don’t meet him, I’ve already lost Vima and in can’t lose Valerie too...I won’t!
 
The very thought that Tom knows about a place as beautiful as our hidden spot fills me with disgust, that someone so vile could invade a spot so dear to my heart is a reality that sickens me to my core, the old grove outside Denerim’s walls, back in those days when we were young, stupid and daring.
 
I remember those mad days like they happened yesterday, we were both crazy enough to sneak out of the alienage and out into the forests outside the city, we’d creep to that old grove and make love amongst the vast trees that shrouded the sky from view, never thought I’d find myself rushing there for a reason other then sex, the world has sick sense of humour.
 
I barely notice the world around me as I race through district after district, the poor houses and the rich ones are all just a blur of greys and browns as I run, and no one can be bothered to stop me as I rush through the city gate haven’t run this fast since Loghain called the retreat at Ostagar.
 
I see the overgrown old path that leads to the grove, my pace slows to a walk and I catch my breath before taking my first steps down that canopy darkened path, my foot remember the way and I head down the path until I come to the opening in the trees leading to that place that was our little secret.
 
And then I see her standing there, facing me her hood pulled back, her face seems odd almost as though it had become stone, something’s wrong but I cant leave her here, need to get her out of here.
 
“Valerie!? What are you doing here...wheres Tom?” I ask eyes fixed on her emotionless features
 
At first she stays silent, but then her face takes on a pained expression and she forces three strained words from agony twisted lips
 
“T-trap... Erian...Run!!!” she says before whatever force is controlling her takes over again
 
I hear a hissing sound, and I get the feeling something is very familiar about that noise, I turn in time to see the fist descending towards my head, the punch smashes into my skull with unnatural force and I’m knocked cold, like I said earlier I’m doing something very stupid, so much for the heroic rescue plan.

Modifié par westiex9, 03 octobre 2010 - 02:15 .