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[Gilgamesh1138]

~Cheesy Tails~

Oh and I apologize for the delays in posting these Whispering chapters.  Real Life got in the

way.  I hope to post more regularly now.  Thanks for your patience, and I hope you will come

back and read again.

Blessings!


A leather bound diary about a quarter filled with small, precise yet legible writing.  Some

pages have finger sized grease stains, and the book itself smells of Ferelden Cheddar, as if

it has been resting next to a wheel of same. 

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

**********
~30 Bloomingtide 9:30 Dragon~


I am glad that Duncan gave me this journal to write my thoughts in.  I needed something to

help me sort through them with the sudden twists and turns my life has taken.  If anyone had

asked me six months ago when I was stuck at the Chantry what I thought my life would be like

in a mere few days time, I would have said: short.  But then Duncan showed up just when I

thought despair would swallow me whole and that there was only one way out of the prison I was

consigned to without benefit of pleading my case.  He freed me, and at a great cost to him,

and the Grey, considering the reaction of the  Grand Cleric (the old bat).

Duncan sent me and my fellow Grey Wardens (Maker, that sounds much better than my fellow

Templars) on to Ostagar (along with the cut purse who picked his pocket while we were in

Denerim that he saved from the noose).  He traveled alone to different places around Ferelden

looking for more recruits. I was disappointed, I had hoped to go with him. Holy Maker, we need

so many more Wardens for what is to come.  Unfortunately, that is not going to happen. Duncan

found only two others, and while Cailan favors the Grey, he is not waiting for Grey Wardens

from Orlais to cross our borders.

I am so new to the Grey Wardens, and while they have been friendly, Duncan is who I find I am

most comfortable with.  He is the first person to actually care about what I want. So I am

willing to do whatever he asks of me, including, Maker help me and them, to lead the newest

group of recruits into the Wilds.  I have to admit that when he asked me I panicked.  After

all if I lead we get lost, people may die, and I would wind up in the Wilds sans pants. 

That man is as cool as the water in the Waking Sea, though.  He cracked a smile, patted me on

the shoulder, said my name and made me feel like a cheval’s arse.  Which I suppose I am. 

[there is a slightly greasy stain here that smells of cheddar] 

But I am no leader, what if people do die?  Okay, not thinking of that!  Must get a hold of

myself! 

And I have been having some strange dreams lately.  And not the strange type of nightmares

from the Joining.  Ever since Duncan wrote that letter about Kaidana Cousland that he sent to

Bernardo, I have had dreams I cannot quite hold onto, like water through my fingers.  In one

of the dreams someone’s life was in danger,  something about broken glass... it is all so

hazy.  The most interesting one was the dream about cheese, which for me isn’t unusual, but it

the person whose life was in danger was in my dream again,  I think.  And there were live

cheese mice and a bread cat. It all gets hazy after that.

Duncan’s letters were an interesting evolution. His description of Kaidana, excuse me, Kai,

fascinated me.  Who was this Lady Cousland with tattoos on her face, a penchant for stabbity

stabbity, and an audacious personality? 

I must confess, I was ready to be intimidated.  She is Ferelden royalty of sorts, her father

being Teyrn of Highever and second only to the throne.  But it was Duncan’s description of her

personality, from the age of four on, and her ability to see what others miss, that really

made me nervous (after all what would she see in me?).  That, and what happened to her family,

how could I offer any kind of comfort that would bring solace after such horrors? 

I admit, only in this journal, that I read every missive Duncan sent over Bernardo’s shoulder.

 Heh heh, Duncan got nervous like a teenage boy when she smiled at him.  I am so going to get

some mileage from that.  I wasn’t sure what to expect, really and what I got, well was

extraordinary.

The Revered Mother cornered me and guilted me into speaking to one of the senior mages on her

and the Chantry’s behalf. The mage took the source of the epistle with less than fervent

enthusiasm.  He and I were exchanging, well pleasantries, shall we say?  That was when I

noticed a woman walking up the ramp towards us.  The sunlight shone off her black hair like it

does on a raven’s wing.  And Duncan was right about those blue, blue eyes, they did take in

everything, and they found it all...amusing. 

I watched her lean casually against one of the pillars to observe the mage and I do our little

verbal dance.  I hate to admit it, but I did get little snarky with the fellow.  And Kai

Cousland’s responses to my jabs only spurred me on, I liked hearing her laugh. 

And laugh she did, which did not endear her to the mage at all.  In fact, he was so enraged

with both of us, that he bumped into her on his way out, calling her a fool, and she told him

off and then stuck her tongue out at him!  I thought I would crack a rib laughing. 

Not only did she laugh at my teasing her and my jokes (not the response I typically get to be

sure), but she traded barbs right back.  She has a wicked sense of humor with a quick tongue. 

She also has quite a temper, and she can be fierce; but it is coupled with discipline

(something she and I share from my Templar training).  She is willing to listen to reason

(mostly), which is a good thing for Loghain, Bann Loren, and the Grey Wardens. 

For a woman born to privilege, one step away from the throne, she is acutely aware of the

suffering of others.  She wanted to conscript that prisoner to save him from the noose, like

Duncan did Daveth.  It took some convincing that we couldn’t abuse that allowance granted to

us by the King.  She is a reasonable person, again, a surprise given her status.  Instead she

snookered food and water from the guard; and she intends to see that, Norval I think his name

is, gets a fair hearing when the battle is over.

Duncan is truly right, she is far more clever and observant by half.  Despite my natural

inclination to blurt out any secrets (I have never been good at being enigmatic or cryptic

like Duncan and one reason I am terrible at playing “Wicked Grace”), I have this desire to

share with her...everything.  Well almost everything, I do want her to get to know me without

knowing my parentage.  Without me saying anything (though I admit I blush and shuffle my feet

when nervous) she managed to figure out the connection between darkspawn blood, its

corruption, and the Grey Wardens.  She also knew that she could be facing death.  She simply

laughed anytime I told her I couldn’t say anything.  When she confronted Duncan just now,

about the Joining being a possible death sentence, he was not surprised that she had figured

it out at all.

After she saw Arl Howe’s man leaving Teyrn Loghain’s tent, I thought she would just accuse the

man outright of being involved with the destruction of her family (she can be blunt).  But,

she played her cards close to the vest, and rattled the man instead.  As much as I hate

thinking that the Hero of River Dane and the man keeping the lid on the pot was involved with

the slaughter of the Couslands; she was right, the Teyrn knows more than he is letting on. 

She did draw her daggers on Bann Loren, who called her names which I will not repeat.  There

is some sort of history there, having to do with his son, I think.  Whatever it was, she and

the bann dislike each other intensely. 

And yet, mention of Loren’s son seemed to make her sad, as did the talk of her brother Fergus.

 She almost started a fight over with the guard at the gate when he made a joke about bets and

how long the scouting parties, her brother’s being one, would last.

That sadness sits on her shoulders, even if she tries to hide it, I see it; and I swear I can

almost feel it too.  I saw it in the way she spoke to her mabari, assuring him he would be

taken care of.  The intense sadness in those blue eyes as she and the mabari shared their

mutual loss. Her convincing him to stay behind.  Even when she told me the funny story of how

a huge mabari war dog has the word “rabbit”  in his name, it is there.

Her intense worry over her brother sits about her shoulders as a cloak of quiet anguish and I

worry for her.  How odd.  I worry for her and yet I have known her only a few hours.  I worry

that her grief over her family and her anguish over her brother still in the Wilds, will keep

her from surviving the mission Duncan is sending us on.  We are to go to the Wilds and that is

no place to suffer a dispersal of attention.  I worry that she won’t survive the Joining. 

This concern is as a confusing as this bond I feel like we share.  Maybe I am imagining

things.  Maybe it is wishful thinking.  After all, I didn’t have any friends in the Chantry,

and I am the youngest and newest Grey Warden, I have no real peers to speak of.  She is closer

to my age, maybe that’s it. 

Oop, here she comes bearing a shield.  I suppose that is what she meant when she told Duncan

she could give some of her belongings away before she dies (practical and a little creepy).  I

had best leave off here. 

Maker, please don’t let anyone die under my leadership; especially not her. Oh, and don’t let

me get lost and lose my pants.

[LadyAly]

awww- It was worth to wait for Gil !!! love it !

[Lynn01]

womderful gil! Love this chapter and the way you've written it!

[Gilgamesh1138]

Aw thanks you guys!!! You both keep me going! *HUGS*

[Gilgamesh1138]

Chapter 17 ~Reflections and Strategies~

I am putting Bloomingtide on this entry.  I think it’s past midnight now, though it’s so hard

to tell in this blasted place. 
   
I am writing this while on watch.  Since I can feel the darkspawn before they appear I feel

safe in taking time to write this and letting Kai sleep.  Other than a disgruntled and rather

rude stare from an owl, even the wildlife is manageable. 

I can smell the scent of her, as she rests with her head on my shoulder.  That unique

fragrance that is Kai, even over sweat and darkspawn blood. 

What is it about her that tugs at me so?  It’s like we’ve known each other for years, but that

isn’t possible.  We hardly ever traveled in the same circles.  She was at the palace and

Landsmeets, and I was sleeping in stables at Redcliffe or with the dogs in the kennel in

Denerim. 

Duncan was right, she can fight, and fight well.  She also knows strategy.  She assessed our

fighting styles and how we would all work best together (something I should have done as the

“leader”, I suppose).  And that is another thing about her, she is a natural leader, where I

am most certainly not.  I find myself, and the others do too, following her without any

thoughts to do otherwise.  

Duncan was also right about her powers of observation.  She figured out the Chasind signs, and

found a hidden lock box in a fire pit.  She is smart, very smart.  And that wicked wit of

hers...she keeps me blushing and laughing.  Well, the blushing part isn’t that difficult,

let’s be honest.  The way she trades barbs with that cutpurse is funny to watch, as is her

constant befuddling our knightly friend, Ser Jory (and to be charitable, that isn’t so...

difficult,to do either).

I know she is trying to hide her feelings about what happened to her family and her brother,

but it leaks through.  I know she is desperately worried about Fergus, and in a bumbling

fashion which seems to be my want, I made some comment on the corpses hanging from a log. 

Maker, I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me.  The look on her face...

Luckily for me, she may have a temper, but she readily forgives too.  She walked across the

log agile as a cat to cut the bodies down, but I knew if she took a fall Duncan would feed me

to the archdemon.  When I begged her to jump down instead of climbing back across she

hesitated for a second.  I thought for a moment she would refuse, but she changed her mind.  I

told her I would catch her if she would.  I don’t know what to say about what happened next. 

When she landed in my arms it was as if time stood still and we were the only people in the

whole world.  I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest, and I was having thoughts

....  The kind of thoughts the Chantry told us were a no-no.  I couldn’t have cared less

though, and if I was reading her right neither did she, and it could have gone on forever. 

Well, it was like that until that damnable rogue opened his mouth, smart-arsed cutpurse!

To watch her search a corpse to see if it was her brother almost broke my heart.  Her

expression was heart rending.  Daveth is a little too considerate for my tastes (while Ser

Jory is as thoughtful as a bag of hammers, his only concern is getting out of the Wilds).  I

don’t know why, but I don’t like when Daveth pays attention to her, and it really bothers me

when she reciprocates. 

I am so confused by how I feel.  She is so familiar to me, and some moments I feel so close

that I know her pain.  And yet, she keeps me on my toes. There is so much to learn, she is

so...complex.  I don’t know what to think.  I was shunned at the Chantry’s templar school

because of my parentage.  And dogs and horses are hardly teachers of human interaction. I wish

Duncan were here, I don’t want to mess things up with her.

And speaking of messing things up, I almost messed up beyond the point of saving her.  We were

jumped by darkspawn and I thought she was going to die before she even has a chance to

possibly die at the Joining.  Maker!  When I think of that possibility my throat closes up.  I

don’t, … no, I can’t think on that. 

And when I was wallowing in my guilt and misery (she could have died because of me), she

brushed it off and told me that I wasn’t to blame.  When I wanted to protest, she joked and

made me laugh.  She always makes me feel better.  Even when she teases me, it makes me happy,

even if she does it just to make me blush. 

I never really had any friends before.   My fellow templars-in-training wouldn’t befriend me. 

The nobles thought I was just a royal bastard, and the others thought I was putting on airs. 

Kai seems to like me for me, just like Duncan.  Maker, I don’t want to keep it from her, but I

don’t want her to look at me differently.  If tell her that Maric was my father, will she like

me less?  Maybe I can ask Duncan what to do.

And speaking of him, next to Duncan, Kai is one of the most stubborn and determined people I

have ever met.  Her insistence on cutting down the bodies and searching them, her

determination on cremating the remains of everyone we have found here, and resolve to keep the

contents of the lock box safe and deliver them to the man’s widow.   At least she is stubborn

about honorable things.  They are very much alike.  Maybe that is why I like her so. 

Well, I had better wrap this up and wake Jory and Daveth to take the next watch.  And put Kai

in her bedroll, or she is going to have a crick in her neck from sleeping leaning on me. 

Hopefully the treaties will still be where Duncan, and our Grey Warden map say they are. 

We’ll find out later today I suppose.  Then the Joining and the battle, Maker, let us all

survive that or Ferelden will fall, maybe even all of Thedas.  Maker, let us succeed.

[Gilgamesh1138]

Chapter 18  ~Morrigan's Mischief~

I could curse my mother for sending me on that dratted assignment.  But if I was going to

curse her for all the things she has done, ‘twould spend the next ten years of my life just to

get through them all.   Not to mention my mother is cruel, dark, dangerous, and demon

infested; so cursing her...well, ’twould be as useful as spitting in the wind.  And Mother

taught me often enough, with physical reminders if needs be, that useless activities bring no

power and therefore should not be tolerated.   

So Mother sent me to spy on the would-be newest Warden and her group of bumbling idiots.  But

what can one expect where men are concerned, except idiocy? 

As per Mother’s instructions I started watching them when they entered the Wilds.  The female

calls herself Kai, I must try and remember that as I think Mother has future plans for the

would-be Warden.  Mother says humans like it when you use their names.  And I was to make

friends with her, so I did as Mother said. 

Did seem a lot of work to get them to visit Mother, but she said ‘tis important for her plans.

 She has seen things with the help of the demon that lives inside of her, trips to the Fade,

and whatever other aid that she refuses to divulge.  Some powers Mother keeps to herself, ‘tis

most annoying.  As she keeps the whole of her plan veiled.  I know she keeps something from

me, some...interpretation of these events, this Blight, these Wardens.  Mother says I will

know when the time is right. 

Bah, ‘tis just her way of keeping as much power and control to herself as she can; she is a

most exasperating creature, much like this Kai person.  The would-be Warden has the most

uncanny powers of observation.  She somehow knew she was being watched, though how, without

Mother’s powers,or mine, I know not.  Yet she almost saw me more than once, and did see me

sitting in a tree when they made camp.   ‘Twas in owl form, yet those blue eyes of hers held a

hint of recognition, though how that was so, I know not, and it vexes me.  I do not like being

put in such a state of unease. 

Nor do I know how she knew I was the raven circling over her head, and fortunately for me she

stopped the buffoon aiming an arrow in my direction.  Lucky for him he did not take the shot

and miss, ‘twould have been one less recruit leaving the Wilds had he done so.  Though, I was

tempted to show the cretin a thing or two about frogs and cooking pots when I finally revealed

myself.  And then there is this woman’s irritating sense of humor, she seemed to find me

amusing rather than intimidating.

This Kai creature?  I think she is more dangerous than Mother knows or is willing to admit.

Granted, when one has lived as long as Flemeth with a demon nesting inside, arrogance is

understandable; though ‘twould not do to underestimate this soon-to-be Grey Warden, I think. 

Not after watching her and Mother interact.

I brought Kai and the three clowns to Mother.  The little boys’s reactions to Flemeth were

typical, with arrogant assumptions by fool blond one, dim-witted stupidity by the balding

knight, and superstitious idiocy by the country bumpkin who tried to shoot me.  But this, Kai

person, did none of those things.  In fact, she looked Mother in the eye, bold as you please. 

There aren’t many ‘twill do that.  And if Mother didn’t have plans involving this woman, she

might not have been allowed to do so without reprisal.  Mother is not one to tolerate

insubordination, or insolence.

‘Twas more than mere brazenness though; the way she looked at Mother, as if she could see

through Flemeth’s attempts at playing at being balmy were false.  ‘Twas almost as if this mere

human woman, with no magical ability, could see the demon within the shell ‘tis my Mother. 

I think Mother is right, I must befriend this, Kai, but not for the reasons Mother thinks. 

Kai might be the ally I need to battle Mother and win my freedom and Mother’s secrets.  Yes, I

think this might work out to my advantage.  Mother has her plans, and I have my own.  “Twill

be interesting to see which of us succeeds. 

            **** A gravel-toned female voice echoes out amongst the stones of the ruins

causing the wolves to whimper in nervousness, some even jump up tails between their legs****

Blast!  Mother calls, so I must away.  Perhaps she will reveal more of her plan for the

would-be Warden; after all, a storm is coming and the battle will be upon them soon.  Yes,

best to see what Mother wants so I may see to twist it to my own ends.

“COMING MOTHER!”

***** Where a wolf lay a beautiful young woman stands, though the eyes are the same vivid

yellow of molten gold.  One moment she is there, the next a tawny owl remains with the same

burning amber eyes, before great wings spread and the owl flies quietly to the hut below.****

[Gilgamesh1138]

Chapter 19 ~Two's A Crowd~

What appears to be an old woman (for those who are too dull, or too afraid to look more

closely) stands before the large fire in front of a dilapidated shack in the Kocari Wilds. 

Her sharp eyes hold pinpoints of silvered light that belong to no source from the atmosphere

without, but rather glows from within.  It is a cold, and penetrating light that seems to see

through things, as if this world is nothing more than shadows and dust.  Others have stared

into that gaze and lived to regret it, if they were not consigned to oblivion so quickly they

had no time for such flights of fancy. 

One such person, who has stared into the abyss that was called Flemeth (when it was only

human), has that glacial gaze following her retreating back.  That the person in question does

not flinch or turn back to look, as most would (like a child afraid of monsters) speaks

volumes to the old woman that is not an old woman, human, or even abomination.  It stimulates,

what appears to be a conversation with herself, as the area is empty as her daughter is

escorting the woman of interest out of the Wilds (there are others with the young woman, but

they are possible tools in a plan that has been decades, even centuries in the planning, and

therefore of only minor interest).  It is the departing young woman that holds Flemeth’s (and

whatever squats inside of her like a toad) attentiveness.

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

*********

So, my old and symbiotic friend, our Morrigan brought them to us.  Just as the elves brought

Maric to us oh so many years ago; or was it only days ago?  Ever since you heeded my call,and

saved my mortal shell and my intangible soul from Elstan’s soldier dogs, to us a year is but a

blink in the Maker’s eye, isn’t it?  What was once two are now one and we became not

abomination, but something else entirely; something new we became, something that would make

the collective Chantry wet its knickers like mewling babes.  We have become power itself.

So much have we seen, so much have we done.  ‘Tis our way to play the game with these pretty

pieces. 

:. And they provide much amusement.  Humans are so entertaining, especially when they

disregard the very predictions we give them, like Maric.  So delicious when he kept Loghain

despite our warnings.  Ah the suffering, so ticklishly delightful.  And to know that the worst

betrayal we warned the then boy king of will take place in only a matter of hours, truly

luscious!.:

But we knew he would keep Loghain close despite what we told him.  They can be so calculable! 

It does not even require the fore-seeing that we do thanks to the smoking mirrors in The Hall

of Madness within the Black City.  We even know of our Morrigan’s desire to escape us and the

Wilds; her yearnings to see the world, which we have only encouraged.  We have had to be

particularly subtle with this daughter.  She is the best and strongest of our daughters to

date, is she not?

:.She will make an excellent body for us indeed, the most powerful offspring we have produced

so far.  To be so fortunate to have a Chasind with magical ability whose seed we could use,

yes, such offspring were certain to be strong in magic.  So unfortunate that he was so strong

of will that only one spawn of our union could be produced before we were forced to dispatch

him.  It would have been fortuitous to produce a backup should one be needed, as we had done

with others before.  Alas, we work with what we have.  We must make sure our vessel goes with

the Wardens, when the time comes.  She will need to refine and hone her skills before we take

what we have created after she has procured for us the soul of an Old God..:

Indeed, she will be the means that provides us more power then we are now, and more than we

can imagine.  And we can imagine quite much, can’t we?

:.Oh, indeed.  ‘Tis such a pity that this soon-to-be Warden is female rather than male, is it

not?  This woman, Morrigan brought to us, is clever, intelligent, and courageous.  Imagine the

child that would spring forth from our issue, that Warden, and the soul of old power!  Alas,

even we cannot turn Fate to our choosing in all things.  We are subject to the laws of the

Maker and his ****..:

But we may not be subject to such restrictions for long, should our plans come to fruition.

:.Yes, if they come to fruition.  This... (it stops here as if searching for word and upon

finding it, discovers it leaves a bad taste) woman, may prove most difficult.  It is vexing

that we see not in the mirrors where this creature is concerned.  Why we cannot see bothers

us, as she is only a human.  Why this should be so is unknown.  ‘Tis disturbing that we may

not see what our vessel and this female get up to.  We had hoped to see, if not the creature

directly, then through visions of Morrigan.  Perhaps we should ensure the female’s death?  We

do not need her for the God-Child..:

We might wish it were so, but we saw the slack jawed idiots with the soon-to-be Warden.  No,

if this Blight is to be brought to its head and the Archdemon confronted for us to have access

to the soul of the old god, then we must preserve the woman, as dangerous as she may be. 

:. It must be so, the soul of the old god is all, power is all.  She is only mortal after

all..:

We will tell Morrigan of her role to play...mother (this is followed by deep and husky

laughter that holds no real mirth) when we have the new Warden with us once more as guest. 

Yes, ‘tis best to feed our vessel the plan in pieces, she is far too clever and would seek to

turn it to her own ends.  Morrigan is a triumph indeed to take her body will be...

:.Luxurious?.:

Indeed!  Soon now, the storm will be coming.  The rains will fall, the silly boy king will

fall, and the Warden will come to us and power, power will be ours for the taking.

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

This is followed by more husky laughter that emanates from wrinkled lips.  Birds in the trees

take off in frightened flight as if a falcon had dived in their midst; for in the wind the

laugh seems to hold not one voice, but  two, one lower and softer than the other; a jangling

and cold counterpoint melody.

[westiex9]

That woman gives me the creeps! i could almost hearing the demons hissing voice when i read this story, very well done...now ill be hiding under my desk if anyone needs me....

[erynnar]

ROFL!!!! Hides with you.

[Lynn01]

Oooowww scary! I do like the way it's written, absolutely! But Flemeth is just... Make some room... I wanna hide with you guys!

[westiex9]

lol this would make a great story: 3 wardens 1 desk...that is it would make a great story if we wern't actually hiding from Flemeth...i hear she devours children and makes the woman from the devil wears prada seem nice and reasonable!!!

Modifié par westiex9, 03 janvier 2011 - 09:12 .

[Gilgamesh1138]

SNORT!!!! I hear that too! *makes room for Lynn*

[Lynn01]

LOL I just had to do this:

"It was dark when Warden Westiex overheard Flemeth talk. She was hiding in the office, wanting to find out more about Flemeth when she heard her coming in. The quickest place to run to was the desk. So here she was, trapped underneath. Flemeth kept going on and on about her plans, and Warden Westiex started getting goosebumps from what she's heard. Quicly after Flemeth came in, she moved out of the office again. It didn't take long when another curious person came sneaking in through the window in the office. Trying to be as quiet as possible she tried to move to the desk in the hopes of finding out more about Flemeth. Looking down she noticed two feet sticking out from under the desk. When she looked underneath it her eyes widened when she saw the other Warden, but she stayed silent as Warden Westiex motioned her to. "What are you doing here?" the newly arrived person asked. "I wanted to find out more about Flemeth, but she's actually creeping me out by all the things I've just overheard." the Warden said. "You can hear her talk? Let me listen in with you!" and so the person moved under the desk as well. "I'm Warden Erynnar by the way." "I'm Warden Westiex." was the reply when they shook hands. Flemeth still hadn't stopped talking and the footsteps moved towards the office. For a moment Flemeth had took the handle of the door to go in, but decided not to. Both Wardens were relieved when they heard the footsteps moving into another direction again. Suddenly they heard the window crack. Warden Erynnar looks from underneath the desk to the window and noticed it had opened, after closing it herself. On the other side of the desk Warden Westiex saw the legs of a person. It was walking to the door, when it changed its mind and moved towards the desk as well. The two pair of legs couldn't go by unnoticed so the person sat on the knees. "Hello...". "Ssh quiet, who are you?" Warden Erynnar said. "I'm Warden Lynn. What are you guys doing here?". "We wanted to know more about Flemeth, though I'm not sure how smart that was." Warden Westiex replied. "We're Wardens Erynnar and Westiex by the way.". "Ah! Well let me with you. Did she have anything interesting to say?". "Most of it was just creepy really." Warden Erynnar said. When they listened for another five minutes, the footsteps closed in again. The doorknob was taken by Flemeth and slowly the door opened. They saw Flemeth's legs go from left to right, as if she didn't know what to do or where to go. Suddenly they heard her talk, and all of the Wardens eyes widened while she did. Nibble, nibble, like a mouse, Who is listening in my house?”
*tam* *tam* *taaaammmm*

Modifié par Lynn01, 04 janvier 2011 - 08:23 .

[westiex9]

ARRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!! Don't let her turn me into a frog!!!(Jumps out window)

[Lynn01]

Haha I can already see an artpiece of 3 female wardens underneath a desk with a part of Flemeth's clothes and the last words she said up there Hm maybe I'll make it if it turns out good on paper!



Or two wardens and a set of legs hanging out of the window (rofl)

[Gilgamesh1138]

ROFL!!!! Oh that was fantastic Lynn! It would make a great fanart! She'll put you in the pot she will!

[Lynn01]

My last ninja for now, a preview of what I've made so far.
As I had no pencil I used a regular ballpoint for this.
Part 1:

Part 2:

part 3:

Part 4 (Final):

L) Lynn M) Westiex R) Erynnar

Modifié par Lynn01, 08 janvier 2011 - 12:13 .

[westiex9]

Ooh i likey!

[Gilgamesh1138]

WOW! LOVE it!

[Lynn01]

updating the post 2morrow so i wont ninja too much! Looking forward to more story updates

[Gilgamesh1138]

LOL working on more as we speak!

[Lynn01]

Glad you liked the first version, as you can see the final one is up! I might make a Photoshop Colorized version as my next project ;-)

[westiex9]

Magnifique! between you and Gil i am surrounded by talent!

[Gilgamesh1138]

Oh LOVE it!!! Thanks Lynn!

[Gilgamesh1138]

Chapter 20 ~Fate is a Fickle Mistress~


A simple, leatherbound journal found in the palace at Denerim after the Blight, the only

adornment an embossed golden wyvern and the initials L.M.T. on the front cover. The spine is

cracked and one corner bent and scratched, as though the journal was thrown against a hard

surface in anger. There are several entries throughout the journal, with dates ranging from

right after the end of the Orlesian Occupation to just before the ending of the Fifth Blight.

The pages of one entry, just a few paragraphs long and located in the middle of the book, are

tear-stained and crumpled, small tears—possibly from fingernails—are along the edges of the

paper.

It is this abused entry that draws our attention.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am a military man, pure and simple, and have been so all my adult life. I know what it is to

lead, the responsibility, the consequences if I err in my judgement. I do not lightly allow

myself to be drawn away from preparations and planning in the middle of a campaign. I have no

time for fools wanting to gape at the so-called "Hero of the River Dane,” I have enough

foolishness dealing with my blasted son-in-law. Yet, when the daughter of the only other teyrn

in Ferelden comes to your tent asking for a few minutes of your time, allowances for time not

spent pouring over maps and reports of troop movements must be made.  Especially when Howe’s

man brought surprising and unhappy tidings. 

While I was loathe to give Howe the nod to take care of the Couslands, it was necessary. 

Kaidana’s father did the unthinkable, even the unbelievable. When Howe told me that Bryce

Cousland—the same Bryce Cousland who lost a brother at the battle of White River to the

Orlesians and almost lost his own life there as well—had a meeting in Orlais with the Empress

herself, I didn’t believe him. Bryce was the man who fought alongside Maric to free Ferelden. 

The man lost his first child to an Orlesian crossbow bolt*, the same man who witnessed the

battle atop Fort Drakon between Maric and Meghren, the man who turned down the very throne

itself to crown Maric’s son instead. But Howe brought me proof: letters of invitation from the

Empress, witnesses who had sailed with Bryce Cousland across the Waking Sea, affidavits from

witnesses of gifts from Orlesian nobility to the Couslands.  

Then there is the source from whence this information comes: Howe himself, a slippery weasel

of a man. Face like a ferret, and the cold deadly cunning of a Ferelden Boomslang. Everyone

knows the man is ambitious. And he covets Highever and power the way a **** covets coin. I

don’t trust him, but his information was damning. I demanded Howe keep Eleanor, Kaidana, and

the rest of the Couslands alive if possible—only Bryce was the traitor—but his soldier

informed me that the Couslands fought back. I was livid to hear about the death of a child,

though, and I sent his guard away with his ears ringing. Ringing for the child’s death, and

because Kaidana witnessed her family being slaughtered and her home destroyed. But, what is

done is done, and cannot be undone; no matter how I might wish it had gone differently. I

learned long ago that yearning for what isn’t serves no purpose.

I observed her as I walked out to meet her: standing with the sun glistening off hair as black

as a raven’s wing. Her brown leather armor fit her curves and I could see that while it was of

high quality, it was well used and she was comfortable in it. The pommel of the sword jutting

up from behind her back, I recognized. Her father’s sword. I would know that blade anywhere,

and I will confess—only here-—that it caused a pang of regret despite Bryce’s betrayal of

Ferelden.

As with the armor, the two daggers strapped to her sides were well cared for, and well used,

and as I remembered, gifts from Maric, so long ago. That memory caused another pang, one of

loss and loneliness for my best and, some would say, only friend.

Speaking of Maric, I noticed his bastard standing like a faithful puppy behind her as I

approached. He looks so much like Maric that it always surprises me that more comments aren’t

made on his parentage. He stands and looks worried. She... she stands with a glint of defiance

in those blue, blue eyes of hers. 

She is much as I remember her—from the few times she and I were ever together due to society

or circumstance-—and she is as lovely as ever, her face… distinctive. I admit to having to

hold back a smirk whenever I see the Elvish designs scrawling across her chin and brows,

seeing it for what it is: a statement of defiance against what noble society demands of her. A

subtle act of rebellion, undermining what is conventionally expected of her. It is her proof

for all to see that she is not simply another useless noble harpy. How can I not approve? I

understand defiance, I certainly comprehend acts of rebellion, and I know what it is to be an

atypical noble.

She also proves to have a mind for military matters. Her questions are brief, to the point,

and obviously meant to give herself a fuller understanding of the current strategic situation.

Were she not destined for other things, and now apparently recruited into those damned

Wardens, I would have welcomed her as a lieutenant in my forces. I can appreciate her

professionalism. As I can appreciate her boldness at drawing me from my tent, and her talent

for strategy at fielding questions meant to dig and discover what I might know about her

family’s deaths. I will admit she almost cracked my resolve. She is very clever, and very

dangerous. It is only a matter of when, not if, she finds what part I played in what Howe did.

And she will find out how big my role is, of that I am certain. 

Were I a younger man and not devoted to the memory of my departed wife, I would doubtlessly

also appreciate the way her leathers move against her slender frame. As it is, I didn't

comment on the fact that my guard's eyes were firmly affixed on her well-formed, leather-clad

frame for the entirety of our conversation. 

Seeing her here at Ostagar, a glimmer of sadness and grief not entirely hidden in her eyes—not

even by defiance and suspicion—draws my memories to another time when I saw her eyes with such

a look. It was the last time I saw her outside of a Landsmeet: in Denerim, at Maric's funeral.

It was cold that day, or was the chill only in my mind as I stood straight and stoic as my

friend and king was commended to the Maker?

Mine was certainly not the only solemn face that accursed day. There were other frowns, sad

expressions, a few tears here and there. One of those who had tears springing from her eyes

was young Kaidana, though admirably she kept herself from any outright weeping. I remember

watching the tears silently tracking down her cheeks as she stared at where a body should have

been. They were the only completely honest tears I saw shed that day, given not for a king but

for Maric, a beloved friend. I watched her as she cried for him where I could not, as she

mourned Maric, not as the king of Ferelden, but as I did, for a dear friend. And rarely have I

felt as grateful to a another person as I did that day.

Anora saw Cailan’s interest in Kaidana at the funeral. It was also the day that Anora came

before me and gave the only demand she ever asked of me: Cailan. Never let it be said that my

daughter is not ambitious and determined, admirable enough as traits go. From the daughter of

a commoner made noble to Queen of Ferelden. Anora knew I could make it happen; though born of

common blood, I was the second most powerful man in Ferelden, after all. Maric's right hand

and advisor to the throne. And Anora knew it was something Maric and I had discussed back when

Cailan and Anora were infants.

Cailan’s interest in Kaidana has not waned, if his behavior at the war council was any

indication.  I watched him fawn and fondle her. I know part of his behavior was to push at me,

as he has always done since he was a child. While I know she did not encourage him, I cannot

help but think how close Kaidana is to the throne, that with her family’s popularity with not

only the majority of the other nobles, but their popularity with the common folk only adds to

her appeal.  Even being a Grey Warden would not be a deterrent, as it would only make her a

hero to the people, and Cailan would be sure to play that up. 

Yes, his fool notion of glory along with his complete trust in the Grey Wardens have caused no

small amount of arguments amongst us. As has his dallying with other women behind Anora’s

back. I know Anora not producing an heir has caused no small amount of anxiety for her, as she

wishes to keep the throne. From childhood she has been able to control and manipulate Cailan,

within reason, but a child born from Cailan, and the Theirin line, would secure her place.

That has not happened, and not for lack of trying. But without a child between them, I think

Cailan is seeing a way out of the arranged marriage made for him by his father and myself. I

could hate him for it, but I know a part of him loves Anora, the other part, I am not sure of.

My daughter is... a complex creature.

But it is not his wanton cosseting with women, nor his foolish desire to be a hero out of a

story book that had me making the most painful decision I have ever made. It is nothing less

than my blasted son-in-law, the son of my best friend and the love of my life, the man I held

in my arms as a babe’s insistence that we need the Orlesians. I must let him die in this

battle.

It is a necessary sacrifice to save Ferelden. 

He brings these Grey Wardens in, and with them, opens the doors for Orlais to throttle my

beloved Ferelden under a yoke of tyranny again. And for what? To save us from some darkspawn

horde? This isn’t even a true Blight! That is a lie concocted by that Duncan creature—who may

have been born in Ferelden, but was raised in Orlais—and happens to be the Commander of the

Grey. I know it was his suggestion to call on the Orlesian Wardens, and he who put it into

Cailan’s head to call on Orlesian forces. It had to be Duncan! I cannot believe the son of

Maric would have thought of that on his own! No! Duncan knew of Cailan’s weakness for legends,

and the Grey Wardens. Duncan used that, and now we stand on the brink of having Ferelden wear

an Orlesian collar once more. 

I will not see this country enslaved, no matter how much of my love Rowan, or my best friend,

I see in that fool Cailan. He is naive, but Ferelden will not suffer from his foolishness.

Orlais is the true threat here, as they have always been, not the darkspawn.

I have made my decision. May Maric and Rowan forgive me, may my daughter forgive me as well. I

do as I have always done: my duty. As for the Maker, may he help me.

May he help us all.


*Bryce’s son dying by crossbow bolt refers to the wonderful story by my friend Ladyamesindy,

We Do What Must Be Done. I do hope you will all read it.

Modifié par Gilgamesh1138, 21 février 2011 - 08:39 .