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[westiex9]

Chevalier’s trial

Falcon Company- A special detachment of Chevalier assigned to aid Orlesian forces in Amaranthine, Led by Ser Clarice the Chevalier of Falcon company are amongst the best unit in the Orlesian forces.

Paul-The newest member of Falcon Company, son of a respected noble man in Val Chevin 

Marcus- Paul’s childhood friend and fellow Chevalier

Clovis- Chevalier/Ranger, a veteran of the war with Neverra, specialises in hunting Ferelden rebels

Clarice- Commander of Falcon Company and devoted servant of the empire

The Wolf-A Ferelden Guerilla waging a campaign against the orlesians across ferelden

Chapter 1: The Call to arms

9:90 Blessed, The De León estate, Val Chevin, Orlais

My bedroom seems cold and distant as I gather my belongings for the crossing, unrest in the south has raged for countless years and the emperor has ordered the deployment of more men to Ferelden. I am Paul De León, eldest son of Francois De León, and it is my duty to carry on the tradition of service that our family has held to since the time of Emperor Drakon.

The blessed age has not been kind to Orlais despite the foolish choice of name, my father discovered this during the war with Nevarra, he lost an eye to their arrows and his brother to their swords, he was never the same when he returned and we found him swinging by a rope in the family stables. Now the land of Ferelden threatens to collapse into anarchy and my father’s legacy passes to me, it is a poisoned chalice to be sure, I would rather stay in Val Chevin and enjoy life then go forth and die in some vile outpost at the edge of civilisation, but the emperor has sent out summons and a Chevalier is bound to answer.

I finish packing and head down the hallway to the great hall where my mother the lady Rochelle De León awaits me, she is dressed as always in the black of a mourning widow, she has tears in her eyes as she gets ready to say goodbye

“Mother, please do not cry, I’m sure Clovis will keep me out of trouble and I’ll be back before you know it” I say trying to reassure her

“Clovis could not protect your father, what use is it to a mother knowing that same man is entrusted with your safety?” she says with a despairing voice

“Mother that is not fair! Clovis did all he could to save father’s life, but no man could have rescued father from the
miasma that haunted his soul” I say leaping to the old bears defence

“I worry for you my son, you are all that I have in this world, for all my estates and wealth I am nothing without my
son” she says a tear rolling down her cheek

I embrace my mother with a strong hug “I shall return from Ferelden safely mother, I promise you” I say mustering as much determination to my voice as I can

“I will pray to the maker every day that this is so my child, now please go forth and know I am proud of you, Mathieu is waiting for you at the gatehouse” she says with a heartbroken voice

“Mother, about Mathieu...we are...” she cuts me off before I can finish my nervous explanation

“Hah! Boy I am no fool; I know love when I see it in the eyes of the young, and I care not who your love is for be it a man or a woman, so go and let him know you love him, this will be as painful for him as it will be for me” she says with a knowing look

I embrace my mother one final time and turn to leave the halls for the courtyard outside, the yard is strangely quiet today, the servants and soldiers are filling the harbour nearby but the courtyard is near deserted save for Mathieu.

Mathieu my beloved, a painter, I fell in love with him long ago during his many visits to our family estate, the images on his canvas so lifelike, he was a person who radiated beauty in all he did, how I could not be struck by him.

He stands waiting for me, a small man Mathieu has a scruffy head of blonde curls and a rough and inquisitive face that seems to take in the image of everything he sees, his eyes are the deepest shade of blue and they stare out at me now red from tears, like my mother he too grieves for me.

“Mathieu, I wish I didn’t have to go away..... I’m sorry” I say embracing him and fighting back the tears in my eyes

“We knew it was going to happen Paul” he stays staring up at me                                                     

“Those sunny days we spent in the fields of Val Chevin seem so distant now” I say staring out at the city in the distance

“Everything has to end eventually” he says philosophically

“I will return Mathieu I swear it! It will take every demon in the fade to stop me returning” I say trying to hide my sheer terror

“Ah my love always with the bravado, it will take more than comforting words and a fierce embrace” he says bring out a wrapped package

“What is it?” I ask curious

“Open it” he says simply, I do so peeling back the brown wrapping to reveal a longsword sheathed in a black and gold scabbard with lions rampant across its surface

“This is beautiful!” I say drawing the blade from its scabbard

“When I saw that hunk of metal you planned to go to war with I had a friend in Halalshiral forge this blade, its edge is made from the finest Veridium, it will never fail you” he says with a proud voice

“There’s one thing you missed Mathieu” I say with a grin

“And what is that my love?” he asks smiling

“I need a kiss to see me home safely” I say drawing him close

“But Paul, what if someone is watching” he replies with a mischievous grin

“Ah what will they do, make me a king!” I say laughing

“That only happens if you sleep with our sovereign Florian I” Mathieu says with a chuckle

“You know Mathieu your more beautiful than any painting” I say kissing him on the lips one last time

“Hey lover boys!! The Ferelden’s aren’t going to kill themselves ah!!” a familiar voice rings out

Clovis my father’s old war comrade stands at the gate, he is a bear of a man with a great shaggy beard, coal
black eyes and shoulders like mountains, and he balances a huge two headed axe on one shoulder I sometimes wonder how it is possible to lose a war with such a man on your side.

“Go Paul, make me proud and come home safely” Mathieu says embracing me


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

I smile looking into his eyes one last time, and then I turn my back and with a pained soul walk towards Clovis who waits in the gatehouse. This war has torn me from my family and my home, and leaving Mathieu is the hardest thing I will ever have to do.

The ride from the Estate to the City harbour does not last long and soon we are walking towards the bustle of Val Chevin’s vast port, a vast warship lies moored in the wharf and soldiers are busy making preparations to embark while servants rush about with supplies and provisions.

“How could one small nation demand so much attention from us?” I say amazed at the size of the forces arrayed in the port

“The Fereldens are a fierce people Paul and many men have died because they were arrogant or stupid enough to believe the horse dung rumours that the courtiers in Val Royeux like to spread” Clovis says scratching his beard thoughtfully

“Why did we even invade Ferelden in the first place?” I ask having long since forgotten the history lessons my tutor used to try to fill my head with

“Bah a potent mixture of arrogance, outright lies and pride, the reasons escapes even me, all i know is this war is a near pointless waste of time and lives”

“If you believe all that then why return to the front?” I ask confused by Clovis

“Because I have a score to settle with someone” he replies shouldering his axe

“A score to settle? What sort of score?” I ask curious

“The sort that ends in blood” he replies grimly

After that Clovis says no more and we embark onto the warship shortly afterwards. Onboard we sit in the lower hold as the boat rocks back and forth nauseatingly, I can’t help but laugh, I’ve swapped the tranquillity of my family estate for a boat of vomiting soldiers.

As the warship sails across the waking sea I wonder about the score Clovis mentioned, eventually my curiosity proves too much and I end up asking Clovis about it, Clovis who sits sharpening his axe with a whetstone stares up at me for a moment as I ask

“Ever heard of the wolf, boy?” he asks with a dark stare that seems to bore into my soul

“No who is he?” I ask not knowing the answer

“A nightmare is what he is, I chased him across Ferelden for a year, and finally I caught up with him in the Brecillian forest” he says staring at his hands

“What a happened?” I ask knowing something dark is about to be revealed

“I led a party of twenty Chevalier into the forest after him, he led us deep into the Brecillian picking us off until only I and three others remained...then...he ambushed us” Clovis says an angry look filling his face

“What did he do?” I ask 

“He killed my remaining men, I was badly wounded in single combat with him, he knocked me to the ground and impaled me with a spear” he says his face filled with emotion from the memory

“As I lay dying he told me he would keep killing us until we stopped coming...I survived by crawling to the nearest road inch by painful inch, I was rescued by some woodsman days later” he says picking up his axe again


“And so I swore Paul on the maker I swore, that I would find the wolf and kill him, not because I care about this pointless war, but because he owes me a blood debt and I intend to collect” He says returning to sharpening his axe

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

The next few days pass with predictable monotony, we vomit over the side when the ships rocking becomes too
much, we sharpen and polish our weapons and above all we try to stay sane. The arrival in amaranthine comes as a great relief, some five hundred men disembark with greater eagerness then any soldier who ever entered a warzone.

The unit I am about to join is none other than Falcon company, one of the most decorated brigades of Chevalier in all of the empire, there is a saying that a member of Falcon company is buried in every corner of Thedas, the scary part is this is closer to the truth then most anecdotes.  Led by Ser Clarice I was initiated into their ranks by Clovis a month before we left for Amaranthine, he said he was impressed by my skill with sword and shield and that I would make a fine addition to their brigade. But I’m still a new recruit and that means I will have to earn the company’s respect.

Clarice stands waiting for us at the docks, her cropped red hair and severe expression adding to my uneasiness

“Clovis, good to see you back in Ferelden, I half expected you to be dead and gone” She says greeting Clovis with a smile

“Not till the wolf is gone Clarice, he goes first” Clovis replied with a humourless smile

“And this must be Henri’s replacement” she says staring at me with her pale green eyes

“Paul De León at your service commander” I say saluting stiffly

“Save it lad, we aren’t into formalities in Ferelden, just kill your fair share of dog lovers and all will be well” she says dismissing my salute

“Besides Paul saluting gets more of us killed out here than the arrows they fire usually” A familiar voice says

A tall brown haired man strides out of the shadows his enthusiastic smile and blue eyes easily recognisable

“Marcus? Is that you old friend?” I ask with a huge smile

“The one and the same Paul and I suspect we’ll have plenty of time to catch up in the next few months” he replies
with an eager smile

“Well in between killing Ferelden’s that is” he says with a wicked grin


“Just remember one thing lad, you’re not in Orlais anymore, this is Ferelden and every member of the local populace is likely to want you dead or worse, keep your wits about you this place is the death of many who don’t” Clarice said a dark look filling her face

So this is the beginning of the war for me, a member of a company of grizzled veterans, and I yet despite the confidence these old hands seem to radiate, Clovis’s words give me the chills “These Fereldens are a fierce people”  Clovis had told me and soon I would discover that for myself.
 
 

Modifié par westiex9, 16 mai 2010 - 09:17 .

[Faohlun]

o_o

[Gilgamesh1138]

OMG! this rocks so hard! Though find myself bristling when they talk smack about Fereldens! ROFL! Oh westie, This is fantastic! *GLOMPS westie*

[Arassi]

Wow! You're off to a great start. I'm looking forward to reading more.

[westiex9]

Thanks Guys! ill have the next chapter up shortly

 Gil:those orlesians really had i coming, thankfully we know this ends with them getting their butts kicked!

Modifié par westiex9, 16 mai 2010 - 09:21 .

[Slim Warden]

Awesome West, its really gripping stuff.

Modifié par Slim Warden, 17 mai 2010 - 11:02 .

[westiex9]

Chapter 2: Villagers

When a village burns the smell is awful, all the things that go into making village life are scorched from existence by an expanding sea of fire, the people, thatch and even the latrines they used all blend into a sick perfume that chokes the air from anyone too close.

The village of Pender’s Crossing is little more than a blazing inferno, and into this realm of fire and misery Falcon Company rides. We had been called to Pender’s ford to deal with a rumour that the village was hiding rebels; specifically a member of the Howe’s a rogue family that joined the rebellion. So far we have seen no sign of anything or anyone remotely linked to the rebellion, but despite Ser Clarices protests that we will find nothing here, Ser Aberlaine the local garrison commander has ordered us to torch the village.

“I fail to see how we are going to win this war by torching every village we find!” I yell to Clovis over the fire and smoke filling the air

“Aye Paul, but what you say is common sense and our “king” Meghren has none at all, he spends all his time in court raging at his exile” Clovis says as our horses trot through the burning streets

“And so we have marched into a nation run by madmen, murderers and rapists then?”  I ask irritated

“Essentially yes, I remember when I was serving in Redcliffe, the local garrison there was ordered to burn an orchard because its farmer wouldn’t swear fealty to the Emperor,  Ferelden is the site of the worst excesses, and your friend Marcus....he seems to be enjoying his acts” Clovis says with a grim look

“He was far too eager to torch these houses, he practically jumped from his saddle with joy” I say as the smoke blows across my eyes causing them to sting

“Two things can happen to a man in wartime Paul, he can become a monster or fight to keep his humanity, evidently your friend opted to become the former” Clovis says his attention turning to a scene outside a hovel up ahead

One of the men at arms is busy dragging a woman across the muddy ground, and he laughs the whole time as he goes about his vile business

“Come on woman! Time for some sport!” the soldier cries out with a cackle, he’s one of the ill disciplined peasant conscripts and I can see his battered and yellowing teeth as he chuckles madly

“Soldier gets back to your post!” I yell from horseback

“Sod off new blood! I only take orders from Ser Aberlaine, not some trumped up stick fresh off a noble’s teat” the soldier yells with a sneer

I trot up to the soldier and stare down at him “let the woman go....Now” say coldly

“Go soak your head dog-lover!” the soldier yells, I can now smell the alcohol in his foul breath, drunk, violent and abusing local women all crimes in my book. I draw my sword from its scabbard the golden lions on the blade glimmering brightly

“Ah look! He’s brought out his little steel ******! What are you going to do Noble? Stick it somewhere?” the drunken soldier says bursting into more of his vile laughter

I don’t wait for him to finish, the blade swoops down like an angry scythe cutting through the  summer crop, the blade slices through the soldiers neck as if I were cutting butter, the severed head flies off and blood pours from the open wound on the soldiers neck, it coats the terrified peasant woman in a spray of blood. She screams

“Go, quickly!” I say, the woman probably doesn’t understand Orlesian, but she knows what I mean, she runs off into the distance, Clovis trots his horse over and sits beside me in his saddle  

“A good thing you did, but don’t you think she’ll suffer worse anyway? Without a home she’ll likely have to suffer worse things in poverty” Clovis asks with a sigh

“better we protect her from men like that then sit back and let it happen” I reply as I clean the blood from my sword, ironic that its first kill should be an Orlesian man, but im sure any Chevalier who still has a sense of honour would have done the same, just because some of us become monsters doesn’t mean we all should afterall.

“Come on Paul we have to go, these flames are getting out of hand” Clovis says as one of the hovels collapses

I nod and we ride off to rejoin the others, I wonder how many more burning villages I will see before this war ends, I pray few, but in my heart I know the answer will likely be many.

[Gilgamesh1138]

Oh you have me riveted! I am your slave!

[westiex9]

Chapter 3: The Chevalier who cried wolf

Ferelden is a remote and backward place by Orlesian standards, and its people are tough and used to violence. It was into this world that the man known to Orlais as the wolf was born, we don’t know who he is or why he chose to fight against Orlais, one day our patrols just started getting attacked by rebels led by a man in wolf fur. Clovis has been hunting him since the day he first emerged in Ferelden, rumour has it the wolf has been leading ambushes and assaults across Ferelden.

Thus it comes as no surprise when an enraged Ser Aberlaine calls Ser Clarice to his office with us in tow; another supply train has been attacked while it was travelling through the wending wood and Aberlaine has decided to send an entire regiment into the forest to investigate, we are to follow.

“I want those Rebels strung up!” he yells his face bright red with rage, I begin to wonder if he will burst if he grows any angrier

 “So you’re sending a vastly oversized force into a piece of dangerous and poorly mapped terrain to hunt for a small band of rebels!” Ser Clarice

“King Meghren grows tired of hearing of these raids by rebellious serfs! These fools will be hanging from the walls of Amaranthine by the end of the month, now head to the wending wood and link up with the 10th I suspect they will have things nicely under control” Aberalaine says with a casual hand signal telling us to leave


Outside I begin to wonder how we have occupied this country for so long with men like Aberlaine in command of the provinces, Father used to tell me about men like him, men like Aberlaine are the product of nepotism and inbreeding, and as a result are almost universally incompetent.

The wending wood is a vast labyrinth of knotted trees and snaking roads, and as our company advances along
the rough and un-cobbled road I can’t help but feel like we are being watched. It is early morning as we ride through the forest and Ser Clarice is not pleased with our orders

“Has Aberlaine lost what little of a mind he had!” she rages as we ride

“The man has been sat in that office since the start of his tenure as commander, we had leaders like him in Nevarra, they’d sit on their arses and discuss tactics while men died on the frontlines miles away” Clovis says his eyes becoming nostalgic beneath the nose guard of his helm

“This is not the place to be sending a regiment of men, the rebels will use their size against them” Clarice says with a grim look

Clovis stops and dismounts, his sharp eyes pick up a shape in the distance

“Something is up ahead near that old oak” he says ominously

“Don’t tell me, its werewolves and old Clovis needs a Hug?” Marcus asks sarcastically

“Shut it Marcus! Paul go with Clovis and investigate” Clarice says pointing to the distant oak

We both walk dismounted, my armour clanks as we move, Clovis is dressed in chainmail because of its light weight and I barely hear a sound as he moves.

“Maker breath!” he says as we are greeted by a gruesome sight

At the base of the oak lies an Orlesian captain, the 10th’s standard impaling his chest, his face is an unrecognisable mass of bruises, they had some fun with him before they finished him off.

Suddenly the forest is utterly quiet; I hear a clanking noise as a distant breeze blows through the trees

“Look!” Clovis says pointing up into the trees around us

“I think we found the tenth” I reply in a fearful voice

In the trees above us hang hundreds of Orlesian soldiers, their lifeless bodies swinging on ropes like the bells in a chantry, Clovis moves closer to the tree and spots something carved into the oaks bark, a single paw mark

“The wolf, he did this” Clovis says angrily, he grips his axe tightly in both hands

“We better go and let the commander know” I say wanting to be away from this horrific scene

“Wait Paul” Clovis says grabbing my shoulder

“What?” I ask in a low voice

“Listen” he whispers, I suddenly feel the fear rising in my chest

I strain my ears for a few moments; I begin to hear something a crunching sound, footsteps crashing through the leaf strewn forests.


“Come on, we need to get back to the others, I smell an ambush” Clovis says as we begin to run, behind us I hear something thud in the spot we were standing, Arrows.

As we rush down the road we see the rest of the company waiting some are dismounted, the Commander sees us and calls the others to attention, Clovis stops and yells

“Ambush!” he calls out loudly as the Arrows begin to crash into the muddy ground, the men scramble to get into cover

A voice calls out as the arrows fall around us “Go home you painted degenerates!” someone calls out loudly

“We’re going to send you back to amaranthine in pieces!” another voice calls out with a sadistic laugh

“For Queen Moira!!” someone yells loudly and the forest fills with booming cheers, I barely have time to drawer my sword as a horde of men rush out of the forest and envelope our small company

As the enemy stream out of hiding and rush towards us I get my first look at the enemy, they are a scary sight, their cloths are rough and their hair wild, and they strike out at us with sharpened sticks and rusty knifes, the occasional enemy swinging an old sword or mace, I resist the urge to soil myself as a wild haired man wielding a woodsman’s axe rushes towards me.

He hacks at me with savage abandon, the axe lands a blow on my helmet, the force of the blow knocks me to the ground and crushes the visor of my helm, I tear the helmet off and scramble back as he hacks at me again. He tries to bury his axe in my neck but I roll out of the way, the axe smashes into the dirty ground and the hairy rebel struggles to pull it free from the earth’s embrace.

I pull myself of the ground and charge at him while he struggles with the axe, I drive my blade deep into his side and he howls in pain as I wrench the sword free, he falls back the wound in his side gushing blood, I drive my sword into his gut as he crashes to the ground.

Another rebel runs at me, he is wearing a crude leather cap and screaming madly as he raises his long dagger, I sidestep his blow and bring my sword down on the back of his neck, the blade slices through his neck and shaves his head clean off.

Around me the scene is one of absolute chaos, nearby Marcus seems oblivious to the danger, the crazy bastard is enjoying this. Elsewhere one of those massive dogs the Ferelden’s prizes so much is tearing at Chamblis’s neck as the very armour that was made to protect him ensures his death by weighing him down. A huge man charges at me wielding in two handed sword, Ser Clarice charges forth on her white Stallion and swings her mace which smashes his skull to bloodied pulp

“Thats it men! Kill these Bastards!” She cries out as the battle begins to turn in our favour


The rebels are numerous, but our ranks hold some of the best Chevalier in the empire, we push them back killing them in droves, I step carefully to avoid standing in the bloodied gore of enemy corpses. In the hill above the road I can see Clovis, fighting with a man in wolf fur, I rush towards him; perhaps we’ve finally caught our wolf.

On the hill above the melee below Clovis and the wolf fight, his axe smashes into the wolf’s long sword with bone shattering force, the blade is knocked from his hand and Clovis bashes the wolf’s face with a colossal fist sending him crashing to the ground on his back.

Clovis moves to stand over his downed rival, a look of grim joy filling his bear like face, he reaches down and pulls back the wolf fur covering his enemies face

“I want to see your face before I kill you” he says as the fur slides off

But the face that greets him wipes the grin from Clovis’s face, the man beneath the mask is a young boy perhaps not older than twenty summers, and he laughs mockingly as the look on Clovis’s face turns from joy to rage

“You fool! You thought the wolf would just offer himself up for you on a silver platter!” the boy says laughing at Clovis

“Makers Blood!” Clovis roars angrily, the blood rushing to his head

“We will never surrender to you! Your oppression will end one day, and all will know that it was your arrogance that sealed your defeat! Long live queen Moir....” the boy’s speech is cut short as Clovis punches him hard across the face knocking him out cold

I walk up and call out his name, he turns to me and stares at me with coal black eyes, I feel my soul grow chill as he stares with rage filled orbs

“This one is not the wolf, just a decoy, a mocking gesture” he says finally breaking his icy stare and looking down at the unconscious imposter

“Are you going to kill him?” I ask unsure what Clovis will do with the boy’

“No, he will be handed over to Aberlaine’s interrogators, he may know how to find the wolf” Clovis says with a cold voice

“And if he doesn’t?” I ask fearfully

Clovis stares at me again, and with a smile more like a snarl then an expression of joy says “then the sadists in the dungeons will have some fun before this one dies” he says in an icy voice

I feel a chill run up my spine as Clovis says this, on the road below the battle has ended, the bodies of the rebels fill the rough forest path and the survivors are being rounded up and disarmed as i look down into the road below.

As we walk back down to rejoin the others I wonder about these rebels, it would be so easy to call them savages based on their appearance, but then I think about the rough lives they must live in the bleak wildernesses of their homeland, they love their freedom enough that they are willing to charge lines of Chevalier with naught but rusted blades and tools for weapons. If there are any heroes in this horrific conflict, it is they.
 

Modifié par westiex9, 19 mai 2010 - 11:59 .

[Slim Warden]

Epic about sums this up.

[westiex9]

Chapter 4: Down time

The Crown and lion inn, Amaranthine’s oldest and most prestigious inn, it’s currently back with bleak faced soldiers and the odd nervous local. We’ve been back in the city a few days now, the prisoner Clovis captured in the wending wood is likely having his nails torn out by some sadist in the Garrison dungeons, I should be horrified by that thought but to be honest I’m tired and am currently more interested in drinking myself into a stupor.

“Those munting locals spit in our ale, I tell you these barbarians hate our bloody guts” Marcus says in a slurred voice

“I hear they castrate Chevalier if they catch them out in the wilds, filthy dog lovers” another Chevalier says staring into his mug with a grim expression

The bard of the evening is busy playing some depressing yarn that seems completely in line with the mood of the inn

“We’ve got to get out of this place, we’ve got to get out this place, find a better life for you and me” the bard sings in a weary voice, a better life, the only life I ever had or wanted is thousands of miles across the ocean back in Val Chevin.

“They look at us like we’re munting demons, staring at us with their nasty little dog eyes, Hey! Dog lover get me some more of this ****** poor swill you call ale!” Marcus yells in a rowdy and violent voice

What happened to him? Marcus used to be a caring person, he used to help my mother with her baggage when we summered on his father’s estate in the Arlesans,this war....it’s made a monster of him.

The serving wench nervously moves towards the table, she’s shaking visibly, she puts another mug of ale on the table, as she tries to walk away Marcus grabs her arm

“You have a pretty face” he says with a rat faced grin

“Why don’t you stay a while?” he laughs drunkenly and pulls her closer

One of the local men walks over, he looks angry

“Leave her alone! She’s just a young lass” the man says, he’s a short man probably not much over thirty, he seems to be trying to reason with Marcus, why do I get the feeling the drunken fool won’t listen

“Oh ill let her go Dog-lover, when I’ve had my fun!” Marcus says as the girl struggles in his grip

“We are not animals! How can you treat us like this?” the older man says with an outraged look, Marcus loosens his grip on the girl, the room suddenly goes very silent as he rises from his chair

Marcus stares at the man for a moment, the man’s short stature now painfully apparent, and then Marcus strikes the man across his face with a mailed glove

“You people are munting savages! You live like dogs! So ill have to beat you like the misbehaving hound you are!” Marcus says as he grabs the man and smashes his head into a nearby oak table

“Munting Dog-lovers! Know your bloody places!” he says lifting up the man’s bleeding face by his hair and then smashing it into the table again, the Serving wench is kneeling on the floor screaming

“Marcus that’s enough!” I grabbing his arm, he shoves me back violently

“Don’t get in my way Paul! You’re too soft on these savages!  I don’t know why they drafted you, you should have stayed in Val Chevin and forelocked about with your munting painter!” he says with a poisonous voice

I lose my temper “Don’t talk about Mathieu that way you ****ing sadist!” I say punching him in the face, he leaps up and kicks me in the chest, I fall over and he grips he by the throat trying to throttle the life out of me

The Vice like grip he has my neck in starts to choke the life out of me, I start to black out as the breath is crushed from me, then the door to the inn flies open, the grip loosens as Marcus looks up

Clovis and several members of the city guard march in, the giant old Chevalier seems to dominate the room with his presence

“Much as I suspected, making trouble with the locals I see, the soldiers id expect that from but you Marcus are a Chevalier, Men take him to the brig he can cool off there” Clovis says with a disapproving look, the militia men grab Marcus and march out of the inn

The serving girl is now weeping softly, the man who stood up for her is lying face down in a pool of blood, dead. Clovis walks over to her and in the gentlest voice I have ever heard tells her to go home, he turns to one of the Chevalier still seated at the table

“Better go and tell Ser Clarice that nasty little ****** finally snapped, the militia is going to have another messy cleanup to make” he says sighing, he reaches down and pulls me off the ground

“That was not how I planned to spend my evening” I say rubbing my neck which is still sore from the throttling I got at Marcus’s hands

“This happens more often than you’d think, now come on we should make ourselves scarce” he says with a sympathetic look as we walk out of the horrified inn

“Marcus was never like that in Arlesan! He used to be so, human, what happened to him!” I say amazed at what I’ve just seen

 “He isn’t that different from you Paul, a caring noble’s son sent to a foreign land” Clovis says with a philosophical look

“I never killed a man in a drunken rage!” I reply defensively

“No but Marcus is a similar person to you, he’s lost comrades in arms in his time here, it affected him and he started to hate the locals, you know that feeling too, the only difference between you both is how you responded to that feeling of loss” Clovis says with a sad look

“Some people are so scarred by war that they are permanently damaged Paul, their spirits are shattered or worse broken, and they never function the same afterwards” He says with a sigh

“Like my father?” I ask with a curious look

“He was a good man Paul....but that war took too much from him” Clovis says placing a giant hand on my shoulder

“Then how can I avoid turning into him, or worse Marcus?” I ask horrified by the idea that I might turn into Marcus and be killing people in bars

“Never get complacent, never let the hatred slide over your soul, just fight, survive and go home that’s all you can do” He says in a mentoring voice as we walk down midnight streets

“What will you do? When this is all over I mean” I ask

“I’ll go back to Val Royeux and spend my days sleeping to afternoon, I’ll make love to my wife and hang up this old axe, and then I’ll spend my evenings eating till I’m plump and telling tales to my grandchildren” He says with a distant, happy look in his eyes.

“That’s something to look forward to, I miss Mathieu so much, I dream sometimes that I’m at home with him, then I wake up in this vile place” I say looking at the ground with gloomy face
“One day this is all going to end” Clovis says as we reach the entrance to the Chevalier compound

“Will we be here to see that?” I ask despairingly

“The maker alone knows Paul, he alone knows” Clovis says as he walks inside

I stand at the gate entrance for a few moments, looking up at the distant stars, right now Val Chevin and Mathieu seem as distant as these ancient burning lights that dot the night sky. Home it seems is a place I must fight to return to, I pray there is still one waiting for me when all this is over.
 
 

Modifié par westiex9, 22 mai 2010 - 12:42 .

[Gilgamesh1138]

Oh my, love the last two chapters so much. I am in love, love I tells ya. Slim is right. Epic, really epic.

[Firky]

Compelling. You have lots of forward momentum and don't waste words. Like the story too. May I ask, do you edit it much or does it flow out like this?

[westiex9]

Firky wrote...

Compelling. You have lots of forward momentum and don't waste words. Like the story too. May I ask, do you edit it much or does it flow out like this?

Theres usually some editing before i post so it looks good but the flow is usually pretty consistent, mind you it took me a while to get it to this level, some of my older fanfics are no where near as Polished  

Glad to see your enjoying the story, ill have another chapter up soon

[Gilgamesh1138]

Did I see another chapter up soon? *GLOMPS westie*

[Firky]

How long has it taken to get to that level? Both in time and in attempts? You'll have to excuse my newbieness, I'm new to fanfic.

[westiex9]

Firky wrote...

How long has it taken to get to that level? Both in time and in attempts? You'll have to excuse my newbieness, I'm new to fanfic.

Its taken quite a while,the most useful thing is having people who read your stuff and give constructive criticism, some of the best advice comes from readers.

As for number of attempts ive lost count of the number of fanfics that didn't quite pan out, but the more you work at it the better they get.  

And i don't mind the questions at all Firky...i wish id asked someone about this stuff when i first started out

[Firky]

Cool. Well I'm impressed by how easily it appears to flow.

[hardscrable]

Nice read , thanks for the story , hope to see more soon....

[westiex9]

Letters home

The sorting office in amaranthine was a hectic place; the imperial couriers would take the messages stored here back across hundreds of miles of ocean to Orlais, but they needed to be approved first. Jacques stared at the pile of letters in front of him, his job was to read through them and check for anything suspicious, trouble was Jacque hated reading letters, and the need to go for a ****** seemed like a far more pressing matter.

Jacques sighed and thought for a moment about the non-existent possibility of transferral to another section of the garrison staff, unlikely given the head clerks enmity, it seemed Jacques would be stuck reading letters for a while. Jacques stared down at the letters piled on his desk and sighed, the icy chill filling the poorly heated room was bad enough, and this was without taking into account the fact that the head clerk was a ruthless miser when it came to fire wood.

Jacques briefly fantasised about beating the head clerk to death with one of his massive account books, the thought brought a brief smile to his face, Jacques decided to read the letters and then go to file a transfer, this time he’d do it, anything would be better then working under this miser a day longer. Jacques opened the first letter and began to read

“Mathieu
my dearest love, I miss you every day I am posted in this place, everything they tell us about the Ferelden’s is horse manure! They are people just like you and I, hard working and gruff but people all the same.

I am finding it hard to continue on in this place, just the other day someone in my unit killed a man in a bar brawl over next to nothing. I swear my love this kingdom is run by lunatics and sadists, listen Mathieu.....I don’t want you to worry about me but I am going on an escort duty soon, it may be dangerous but I swear I will be fine.

Take care of mother and keep a prayer in your heart Mathieu, I will be home when all this is over, I swear it!

All my love

Paul”

“Ah young love” Jacques said with a smile, he placed the letter back in the envelope, ignoring the more dangerous passages

Jacques could no longer hold it in; he got up from his seat and headed to the latrines, the cold making his bones stiff as he walked down the long stone corridor separating the sorting office from the latrines. As Jacques grunted and forced a stream of urine from his bladder he pondered his transfer options, most of his family were posted in remote areas of the empire, he had a brother serving on the Nevarran border, Jacques had been stuck working as a clerk for over a decade. He sighed thinking on how much of his life was spent behind a desk, mother would have told him it paid for food and clothing, but then her aspirations were always rather pragmatic.

As Jacques finished his business in the latrine and headed back to the office he found himself reminiscing, his family had been poor farmers in the fields of the heartlands, strangely he remembered the happiness of a large family and his mothers cooking despite their low status. How long had he been stuck in Ferelden? Ten years as a clerk seemed like such a waste, Jacques hadn’t been with a woman in years, everything had been put on hold when he’d been drafted.

Jacques entered the chill office and slumped back into his battered old chair with a grumble, outside a drill sergeant was barking orders, Jacques wondered what he would do when he confronted the head clerk, where could he go if not on to more clerical work? He sighed and opened another letter

“Rochelle

I hope this letter finds you well, Paul is surviving despite his hatred of this war and I am doing my best to keep the boy safe from harm.

Rochelle I must confess, I never forgave myself for Francois, the man who returned home from Nevarra was a husk of his former self, but then that war took so much from him, I sometimes wonder if I had been just a little quicker what if I could have saved Philippe...but then it’s pointless to speculate on that now.

I promise you I will do everything in my power to keep your son from suffering the same fate as his father, even if it kills me in the process...sorry I know you hate it when I get morbid.

I know you didn’t want me to go to war again, but I have to kill the wolf, he murdered my entire squad and so I must take vengeance before I can live peacefully. I was thinking that when I returned we could finally tie the knot, we’ve been hiding our relations too long; I know we always tried to be discreet for Paul’s sake, but he is a man now and he deserves to know the truth about us.

But ah I am rambling again my love! I hope to see you soon, oh and don’t worry about the boy, I will keep him safe, I owe you and his father that much at very least.

Clovis”

Jacques sighed, how many father’s had Orlais’s wars maimed beyond repair, he slid the note back into the envelope and sat back, Jacques was weary of static postings, he wanted to be free from the eternal drudgery of a clerk’s posting, perhaps he would join the navy when he had confronted the head clerk, sea seemed like a promising change. Jacques thought about the freedom the navy would afford him for a moment before opening another letter.

“Henri

My dear I hate this country, I know I’m supposed to be a loyal servant of the empire but I do, the country’s leaders are fools imbeciles! They send men to their deaths as carelessly as drunkards spend their coin on ale!

I am supposed to be a Chevalier commander, yet how can I be effective when my superior officers won’t even give me the freedom to criticize their strategy? My men are the best soldiers in the empire and the fact we have survived so many ambushes, traps and assaults by the rebels is testament to their bravery and valour, not our leadership’s intelligence.

I sometimes wonder what life must be like for you back in Orlais, raising horses on our estate alone must be difficult, I miss you and Lizella very much, but I cannot ignore my duty and so I have to stay till my superiors deem my work done.

But by Aveline I swear this will be the last time I march to war, I am rapidly growing tired of this life, I want to see Lizella grow up, and besides I have a strong hunch you are living like a pig in a sty while I am away! I swear if I return and see a dirty beard adorning your face the Horses will be the least of your worries!

Ah but you know I am only teasing husband, give my love to our daughter and try to bath occasionally darling.

All my love

Clarice”

Jacques put the letter back in its envelope; he had no desire to point out the venting of a superior officer, he thought about family, he hadn’t been in a relationship in a long time; children would be nice he decided closing the envelope.

Jacques stood up and pondered getting a coffee from the mess hall, but then he remembered how awful the coffee in the mess hall was, whatever they put in that stuff it tasted like death in a cup, he sat back down and grumbled, food that was another thing that he hated about Ferelden, army food here was foul.

 The final letter in his pile sat on his desk ominously waiting to be read, he stared at it for a moment before seating himself and opening it

“Mother

I don’t know why I’m writing to you, you never read any of my other letters, and it seems sometimes like im arguing with a silent wall when I try writing anything home,  and I doubt this time will be any different.

I’m writing to you from the garrison jail, I got into a bar brawl with a local, it ended badly for me and worse for him, munting savages!

I’m writing because if I hang which I might I want you to know how I feel for posterity’s sake, you never believed in me, when father ran off with that other woman you hated him for it, and when you looked at me you saw him and you hated me as well.

All those years of rejection and coldness from you were something I will never forget, if I die be it by rebel arms or the noose I swear I am done with you, you were so happy the day I got drafted and you practically couldn’t wait to hear news of my demise...well congratulations mother you might hear of it sooner rather than later.

But just remember one thing before you break out the wine, I’m the only blood you have left and once I’m gone you’ll be all alone in that decaying old estate in the Arlesans, and you’ll grow old and decrepit and rot in that cesspit like a mouldering corpse. So if I die I want you to know that I didn’t deserve your cruelty and that I won’t regret not seeing you again


Marcus”

Jacques closed the letter eager to be away from it, hate was seldom pleasant to witness and was little better when articulated on parchment, Jacques sighed, it always seemed a terrible shame when he heard about parents who hated their children and sons who hated their mothers, after all if you haven’t got family, who have you got?

Jacques thought about his family, a sister in the heartlands and a brother on the Nevarran border, his sister likely had children by now, she was pregnant when he left for the war, he wanted to go home to them, so he would go and confront the head clerk and earn his right to return to them.

The Determination filled Jacques as he marched down the stone hallway towards the office of the head clerk, he had nothing to lose and everything to gain, the years of inertia seemed to slip away as he entered the office.


“What do you want Jacques?” the weasel of a head clerk said grumpily staring up with his miserly eyes at Jacques


“A transfer to Montsimmard” Jacques replied with a cold tone

“Ha! You would be lucky to get as far as Jader! Not a chance!” the Head clerk sneering with a dismissive wave of his hand

Jacques didn’t move from the spot where he was standing, he didn’t change his expression, he stared at the head clerk with a cold gaze, and he would not leave till he got what he wanted

“I’ve put up with you and your wickedness for ten years too long, for ten years I sat in that under heated office sifting through other people’s lives while my own ground to a halt.....no more...I want that transfer and if I don’t get it I swear ill work so poorly you’ll wish you had given me it....I’m tired you nasty little rat and there’s nothing more Ferelden can take from me” Jacques said the anger given his words the needed weight.

The Head clerk looked at him with a shocked face, he wasn’t used to being stood up to and like any bully he began to weaken and crack at the seams, they always did when confronted.

“Montsimmard?” the Clerk said with a quizzical look

“Montsimmard, I have a family to catch up with” Jacques replied firmly

The Head Clerk took out a sheet of parchment and scribbled a few words on it, he then stamped it with the imperial seal and handed it to Jacques wordlessly with shaking hands, Jacques left the office with a beaming smile. He was to be transferred on the nearest ship to Orlais before travelling to Montsimmard where he would serve as a clerk, it wasn’t sea true, but Montsimmard was close to home and the family he sorely missed.

Jacques left Ferelden days afterwards; the other Clerks would comment for months afterwards about how their sadistic Head Clerk had finally been confronted, they never failed to mention how happy Jacques looked on the day he left Amaranthine.

“So that happened here in our very own garrison?” Paul asked the chuckling Clerks as he collected his letters from home

“This very same fort sir, Jacques finally had enough of being stuck here” The Clerk said with a grin

“If only it worked for Chevalier” Paul said with a sigh before leaving for the barracks, he doubted he would be home as soon as that brave clerk.
 
 
 

Modifié par westiex9, 24 mai 2010 - 01:07 .

[Slim Warden]

War, what is it good for? answer: epic tales of Chevaliers named Paul, you do good work West.

[Gilgamesh1138]

Oh westie! I am soooo in love with this! May I give it a shout out on Soulmates on FF.net? I know I gave both you and Slim one for your stories before. I hope it will be all right for this one. I really want people to read it. : )

[westiex9]

Gilgamesh1138 wrote...

Oh westie! I am soooo in love with this! May I give it a shout out on Soulmates on FF.net? I know I gave both you and Slim one for your stories before. I hope it will be all right for this one. I really want people to read it. : )

sure that'd be awesome

[Gilgamesh1138]

SWEET! *does happy dance while grabbing westie and giving you a twirl*

[westiex9]

Where Falcons Dare

Rain, If there I one thing I hate about Ferelden it is the weather, the downpour taps my the top of my helmet with infuriating frequency and the unpaved roads that serve as the main routes of travel are slick with mud, boots and hooves alike get stuck in the sludgy path and it takes a hard tug to get free from the slimy grip of the road.

Its tax season, the imperial collectors are travelling across amaranthine in escorted caravans, as you might well have guessed the harsh taxes don’t sit well with the locals, violence and assaults on imperial forces always reach their highest during this part of the year.

I have the dubious honour of commanding one such escort, Falcon Company has been split in three for the duration of tax season, our numbers spread across various escort duties in the Arling, I was tasked with leading this escort by Ser Clarice. The promotion hasn’t left me jumping for joy.

“Tancred! How far are we from the next village?” I ask in a loud voice trying to speak over the rain

“We should be there shortly my lord” the infantry captain says consulting his soggy vellum map

Escort duty is dangerous business, the locals in the towns and villages often descend into riots, the soldiers doing the escorting are known to rape and brutalise any locals who don’t cooperate and worst of all the rebels always step up their campaign during this part of the year, and Imperial tax collectors are prime targets for ambushes.

“Tancred, tell the men I want this done quickly and by the book, no raping the farmer’s daughter, no pillage and no beating the locals without cause” I say in a tired and grumpy tone, after the chaos that occurred in the last village I am taking no chances

“It will be as you say my lord” Tancred replies saluting me, he then moves down the caravan line barking orders to the soldiers, thankfully Tancred instils such terror in the foot sloggers that they usually consider the risks of disobeying orders to outweigh the possible benefits. 

“The road up ahead looks reasonably clear” Charles says as he falls in line with my own horse, Charles is one of Falcon companies fastest riders, he’s been keeping an eye on the roads since we left amaranthine three days ago.

“Good, the rebels don’t seem to be an issue today, if our luck holds out we might be able to collect the taxes and be gone from here before another riot occurs” I say checking my map; our destination is marked by a black circle, Dayton village.

“I don’t see why we even bother taxing the farmers, it just makes them hate us more than usual, they don’t even have that much to take anyway” Tancred grumbles as he slogs along on foot

“Plus the rebels get more sympathy, I heard another Caravan got ambushed near blackmarsh, apparently they found the collector garrotted with the strings from his purse” Charles says with a fearful look on his face

“This isn’t black marsh, no one is going to be garrotted” I say as we pass a sign marked Dayton 5 miles

“Can you smell something?” Charles mutters

“Smoke” I say pointing to a plume rising in the distance

“Why do I get the feeling something is very wrong” Tancred says unsheathing his sword

As our caravan descends from the hill we see the cause of the smoke, another imperial caravan, the wrecked wagons are on fire and the bodies of the escort are strewn around the wreckage, I order a quick march and we quickly arrive at the scene.

“Makers breath! They must have killed everyone in the caravan” Charles exclaims in shock

A soldier lays his back to a overturned wagon, a spear impaling him in the stomach, he groans slightly as we approach

“Or-Orlesians?” he asks weakly

“Yes friend we are Orlesian, what happened here?” I ask, the spear wound looks fatal and I doubt he will last very long even with medical aid

“They ambushed us here a few miles from town....killed everyone....except captain Abelard, the tax collector, and a few others....they...took them prisoner” he says forcing the words from pained lips

“Do you know where they took the captain and the others?” I ask as a soldier begins to see to the man’s wounds

“The Aldwin estate....abandoned....must be camped their...overheard them say so” the wounded soldier says, he groans as the spear is forced free and the bandages are applied

“Rest easy soldier, we’ll see the captain and the others are rescued” I say rising

“The Aldwin estate isn’t far from here, they say it was abandoned shortly after the owners fled south” Tancred says pointing in the direction of the estate


“Get the men, we are going to pay this estate a house visit” I say mounting my horse

I guess the road wasn’t clear after all, but then I have become rather used to surprises in this dangerous countryside.  

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

The tall grass makes it easy to spy on the rebels hidden on the estate below; we crouch on a nearby hill all but invisible

“Charles, do you still have that Qunari spyglass?” I ask straining to see what the enemy are doing below

He passes the spyglass to me wordlessly and I peer through its lenses into the estate below, the captain and his men lie kneeling beneath a tall oak in front of the ruins of an old farm estate, one of their number is being beaten by several rebels who laugh and jeer as they rain blows down upon the captive soldier.

“They have Abelard and the others up against a tall oak, must be trying to extract information from them” I mutter in a matter-fact tone

The rebels eventually get tired of beating the soldier and one of the men moves up behind him with a knife and slits his throat wince as the rebel does this, the others laugh and joke amongst themselves as their victim bleeds to death on the muddy ground.

“How many rebels down there my lord?” Tancred asks as I busily spy on the enemy

“Twenty, they probably sleep in the estate ruins at night” I reply passing the spyglass to Charles  

“So what’s the plan?” Charles asks

“I will take five men and sneak into their camp to rescue the prisoners, Tancred” I say turning to the infantry captain

“Yes my lord?” he asks

“Your men will surround the estate, one we have freed the prisoners advance and kill everyone down there” I say coldly

“We better get into position then, night is approaching fast” Charles says grinning


We move away from the hill and begin preparations, night is indeed coming, and I intend to give the rebels some rather lethal night terrors

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

Night descends covering the sky in its ink coloured cloak, we crouch prone on the hill, and my stealth party has stripped their armour and dulled their blades with mud, when we enter the camp the enemy will not see us coming.

I give the signal and we being to descend into the long grass in the fields below, the lanterns and torches the sentries are carrying makes them easy targets in the night, I raise a closed fist and the men break off and choose targets, mine happens to be standing nearby pacing back and forth on the path leading to the farm house.

I creep towards the sentry while his back is turned, the long grass parts as I move onto the old pathway, he doesn’t even have time to scream, I place a hand upon his mouth and drive my dagger into his heart with a vicious thrust to the back, he falls forward dead before he hits the ground.

The lantern bearing sentries are soon all eliminated; their lights extinguished plunging the farm into near complete darkness, I move forward towards the oak tree where the prisoners are being held.  They lie beaten and weary looking with bound hands and feet

“Who’s there!?”  The man I assume is captain Abelard whispers

“Paul De León, Falcon Company, Captain Abelard I presume” I say as I cut his binds with my dagger, the other men soon join me in freeing the captives

“How did you find us?” Abelard asks amazed that we are even here

“A survivor from your caravan pointed us to this abandoned farm” I reply as we begin to move away from the oak tree

“Damn good timing, those bastards planned to get as much out of us as they could and then kill us” belard says with a fearful voice

“I suspect it’s us who will be doing the killing tonight" I reply as we clear the tall grass and arrive back at the hill that overlooks the farm, I raise a hand and Charles lights a torch giving the signal for the infantry to advance.

The farm below is suddenly surrounded by a sea of tiny orange flames; my men begin to advance on the farm without war cry’s or taunts, the flames begin to flicker and move quickly as the men break into a run, the sound of their mail and half plate clanking fills the night air.

A crash rings out as the men begin smashing through rotting wooden doors and boarded windows; they then throw the torches inside, much as I suspected the decaying old estate begins to burn and smoke like fireplace kindling as the flames devour the rotting wood.

Soon the rebels begin pouring out, half naked and choking on the smoke fumes, they are promptly speared or decapitated by the halberd and two handers of my soldiers. The fighting is one sided and ends quickly, those not killed fleeing the farm house soon succumb to the smoke and fire inside.

“Hmmm looks like we won’t have to bury them” Charles mutters with a wicked grin


The stink of roasting flesh and burning wood fills the night air, clogging nostrils with a nauseating stink and stinging the eyes of anyone too close to the blaze, the farm house burns and collapses into itself with a huge crash.  We just stare moths captivated by the flame; it burns for most of the night.

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

By morning the house is still smoking but the fires have long since died, we search amongst the ruins of the farmhouse, though the chances of any rebels surviving last night’s firestorm are slim to none.  One of the men calls out having noticed something; a few other soldiers rush over and help him overturn some rubble blocking the entrance to a cellar

“Looks like we missed something” I say with a raised eyebrow

The men pull back the doors and light torches, we enter the musty old cellar and find a couple of dead rebels lying around the steps, they must have been chocked by the fumes from the fire as they hid in the cellar, some of them are still clutching their throats their bodies locked in the final moments of life.

“Makers Breath! Sir....you’re going to want to see this” one of the soldiers blurts out in amazement

I move forward to stand next to the soldier and shine my torch on the spot he is pointing to in amazement; the flame reveals a truly amazing sight.

“This must be the largest cache of weapons and pilfered goods I’ve ever seen” Captain Abelard exclaims as he joins us in the cellar

He does not exaggerate, weapons and armour fill the cellar floor, most of it Orlesian and likely looted from those slain in ambushes, and wine and fine cloth too fills the horde before us and more amazing still several chests marked with the imperial seal

“I think I know where the taxes from this region have been vanishing to” I say with a grin

“You do know they will likely pin a medal on your chest for saving a captain and uncovering the biggest rebel cache ever found on the Feravel plains” Abelard replies with a smile

“Might make a nice change from Ser Aberlaine barking admonishments our way” I say searching through the seemingly endless horde

“Oh maker” I blurt out in a shocked voice

“What is it?” Abelard asks confused by my sudden change of voice

I stare at the banner planted in the middle of the horde, a black Wolf’s paw on a white background, it seems to sit
their taunted me with its presence, the symbol of Clovis’s enemy.

“This symbol....the wolf was here, might still be active on the plains” I say shuddering

“How can he be in command of so many different operations? He seems to be everywhere at once” Charles says disturbed

“I don’t know but Clovis will want to see this" I reply before leaving the cellar

I should be celebrating a major success, but that banner has given me the shakes, the wolf Ferelden’s freedom fighter and Orlais’s worst nightmare.....he’s here in the Feravel plains and he could strike at any time....in any place, I shudder and pray silently that I never find myself the target of his attacks.
 
 
                                                                                                                                                           
                          

Modifié par westiex9, 26 mai 2010 - 12:22 .