Fantastic! I am on the edge of my seat. Will Paul become as his friend who killed the man in the bar?
I love how you portray how badly both sides are... Wonderful! I am in love with this tale.
Chevalier's Trials
Débuté par
westiex9
, mai 16 2010 01:55
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#27
Posté 03 juin 2010 - 02:00
westiex9
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Through wolf’s eyes
It seems strange to think of myself as a symbol of rebellion, these men who have followed me since my early days look to me for leadership, they say I am like a wolf hunting the vile Orlesians, but I never expected my life would take this path.
I was born in an occupied country, our people subjugated to a foreign empire, and yet my former life was for the most part almost idyllic, at least in comparison to my present existence, I was a farmer, born and raised in Rainesfere where my cousin owned a great orchard. I married a woman I adored and she bore me three sons.
We lived on a large farmstead not far from my cousin’s orchard, I remember it well, the grass was the colour of gold and the trees swayed gently in the morning breeze that would blow through the fields, I worked my land and lived contentedly, Orlais and the rebellion seemed a thousand miles away, I never had one thought of rebellion in those days.
I suppose that I was decidedly unpatriotic in those youthful days, don’t get me wrong I found the Orlesian occupation as unjust as the next man, but truthfully it seemed a distant and unimportant fact of life, what did it matter on my isolated homestead whether I bowed to an emperor or a king? And besides what had Orlais ever done to me personally?
Looking back I am almost ashamed at my naive existence in those times, but then how could I fight without a reason for it? The Orlesians gave me a reason to fight them, my cousin refused to swear fealty to the emperor when the Orlesians visited his orchard; he was a freeman and would not sacrifice his pride. They burned his house, his trees and then they hauled him off to Redcliffe for execution.
Now one thing I’ll say of the Orlesians, they rule with terror, they try to beat their laws and ideas into us and when we refuse they beat us all the harder, and then they beat those we know just to get the message across. When my cousin stood up to the Orlesians he endangered us all, the orlesians came to my farm, they wanted to evict me for my connections to an executed traitor, they produced trumped up charges involving my status as a freeholder and then they burned my house and fields.
But they did not stop with my home, the soldiers were in a sadistic mood, my wife was always a pretty woman, long dark hair and deep green eyes, the Soldiers decided to further break our spirits, they raped her, I was beaten to a bloodied pulp and forced to watch while they laughed and she screamed.
My boys finally lost their nerve and fought back, so the soldiers killed them, they ran them through and then cut my wife’s throat because they got tired of her sobs, the bastards then knocked me cold with a kick to the face and left me to die.
But I lived I awoke bloodied and battered but alive, but what could I live for? My home was in ruins and my family, my very reason for being had been taken from me. A feeling of utter emptiness filled me in those moments; all I had loved was gone, I wept for them amongst the smoking ruins of our home and buried them in the ashen soil of our fields. My crime had been relation to a man who stood up to them, and so my punishment was to serve as entertainment for sadists.
Orlais a country I had never fought against, a people I had never hated or mocked had taken from me all that mattered, I had nothing save my life, but amongst those ashen ruins something burned into life within me, anger that I had never experienced. I let that anger take hold of me and I embraced it.
I swore I would take my vengeance on Orlais, it gave me a reason to continue living, I would avenge my family, I would become a terror to haunt my oppressors nightmares. I remembered a game I and my boys would play when they were very young, Dane and the wolf, they loved that game. I remember the name they used to give me “the wolf” to them it was a term of affection, but to the Orlesians it would become a name intoned in fear.
And so I left Rainesfere and its golden fields, I travelled deep into the woods where the countless lost souls who waged war against the Orlesians hid, years passed as I struggled against Orlais without ceasing. And so we come to the present, Amaranthine the heartland of Orlais, they have taken so much from Ferelden, they call us savages and Dog-lovers, I have seen the way they treat my people, and it ends here, we shall have freedom and all of Orlais will know that the Wolf Fought tooth and nail for that freedom.
It seems strange to think of myself as a symbol of rebellion, these men who have followed me since my early days look to me for leadership, they say I am like a wolf hunting the vile Orlesians, but I never expected my life would take this path.
I was born in an occupied country, our people subjugated to a foreign empire, and yet my former life was for the most part almost idyllic, at least in comparison to my present existence, I was a farmer, born and raised in Rainesfere where my cousin owned a great orchard. I married a woman I adored and she bore me three sons.
We lived on a large farmstead not far from my cousin’s orchard, I remember it well, the grass was the colour of gold and the trees swayed gently in the morning breeze that would blow through the fields, I worked my land and lived contentedly, Orlais and the rebellion seemed a thousand miles away, I never had one thought of rebellion in those days.
I suppose that I was decidedly unpatriotic in those youthful days, don’t get me wrong I found the Orlesian occupation as unjust as the next man, but truthfully it seemed a distant and unimportant fact of life, what did it matter on my isolated homestead whether I bowed to an emperor or a king? And besides what had Orlais ever done to me personally?
Looking back I am almost ashamed at my naive existence in those times, but then how could I fight without a reason for it? The Orlesians gave me a reason to fight them, my cousin refused to swear fealty to the emperor when the Orlesians visited his orchard; he was a freeman and would not sacrifice his pride. They burned his house, his trees and then they hauled him off to Redcliffe for execution.
Now one thing I’ll say of the Orlesians, they rule with terror, they try to beat their laws and ideas into us and when we refuse they beat us all the harder, and then they beat those we know just to get the message across. When my cousin stood up to the Orlesians he endangered us all, the orlesians came to my farm, they wanted to evict me for my connections to an executed traitor, they produced trumped up charges involving my status as a freeholder and then they burned my house and fields.
But they did not stop with my home, the soldiers were in a sadistic mood, my wife was always a pretty woman, long dark hair and deep green eyes, the Soldiers decided to further break our spirits, they raped her, I was beaten to a bloodied pulp and forced to watch while they laughed and she screamed.
My boys finally lost their nerve and fought back, so the soldiers killed them, they ran them through and then cut my wife’s throat because they got tired of her sobs, the bastards then knocked me cold with a kick to the face and left me to die.
But I lived I awoke bloodied and battered but alive, but what could I live for? My home was in ruins and my family, my very reason for being had been taken from me. A feeling of utter emptiness filled me in those moments; all I had loved was gone, I wept for them amongst the smoking ruins of our home and buried them in the ashen soil of our fields. My crime had been relation to a man who stood up to them, and so my punishment was to serve as entertainment for sadists.
Orlais a country I had never fought against, a people I had never hated or mocked had taken from me all that mattered, I had nothing save my life, but amongst those ashen ruins something burned into life within me, anger that I had never experienced. I let that anger take hold of me and I embraced it.
I swore I would take my vengeance on Orlais, it gave me a reason to continue living, I would avenge my family, I would become a terror to haunt my oppressors nightmares. I remembered a game I and my boys would play when they were very young, Dane and the wolf, they loved that game. I remember the name they used to give me “the wolf” to them it was a term of affection, but to the Orlesians it would become a name intoned in fear.
And so I left Rainesfere and its golden fields, I travelled deep into the woods where the countless lost souls who waged war against the Orlesians hid, years passed as I struggled against Orlais without ceasing. And so we come to the present, Amaranthine the heartland of Orlais, they have taken so much from Ferelden, they call us savages and Dog-lovers, I have seen the way they treat my people, and it ends here, we shall have freedom and all of Orlais will know that the Wolf Fought tooth and nail for that freedom.
#28
Posté 04 juin 2010 - 02:19
Gilgamesh1138
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Oh westie! *GLOMP!* And I love the briniging in the letter found in Redcliffe. NICE! I am so in love with this story! MOAR please. : D
#29
Posté 04 juin 2010 - 11:17
Slim Warden
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VIVA LA REVOLUCION! *cough* very nice West, very nice.
Modifié par Slim Warden, 04 juin 2010 - 11:18 .
#31
Posté 12 juin 2010 - 03:16
westiex9
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To hunt the Wolf part 1
Wounded horses, I think they must be the most horrific cries I will ever hear, the whole forest road is covered in wounded horses and dead riders, there must be half of Falcon company here, their bodies unceremoniously sprawled across a muddy back road, I lean back on my horse trying to stay steady, the arrow lodged in my shoulder makes this a difficult task.
Clovis has long since ridden off in pursuit of our target, leaving me alone amongst the dead. This whole plan was madness pure and utter insanity, send an armed force into the heart of Rebel held amaranthine to kill one man, I swear that bastard commander sent us in on purpose, if I survive to return to Amaranthine I’ll make him pay dearly.
The bushes nearby begin to rustle, more rebels? As I draw my sword time seems to slow, and the events leading up to this moment flash before my eyes.
8:91 Blessed, Amaranthine, Office of the Garrison Commander
They called him the butcher of Perendale, lord Sebastian Dournier our new commanding officer, the rumours had been doing the rounds across the city ever since his arrival a week ago, rumours of a man who had burned entire villages during the retreat from Nevarra, rumours of a man who would use any means to bring this nation under Orlesian control.
Now we stand looking at him as he paces back and forth across our former Commander Ser Aberlaine’s gutted office. Not even his nepotistic benefactors could protect Aberlaine from the mounting disasters that marked last year, I am reminded of the old chantry story I was told once in my youth, the one that involves the class that misbehaved so much it had its teacher replaced by one far worse in every way, suddenly I daresay I miss Aberlaine.
Sebastian Dournier now busies himself conferring with us, his officers, on his new strategy for defeating the rebellion, Ser Clarice ever the devoted Imperial is ecstatic at his arrival, she finally has a commanding officer who advocates decisive action against the rebels, that must be great for strategists but for me it means getting my arse shot off by ambushes in the woods.
“My predecessor succeeding only in alienating the local populace with his reprisals, we need to win these people’s hearts and minds gentlemen, as such I have placed a bounty on the wolf’s head of one hundred sovereigns, the greed of men shall lead us to him” Dournier says with a wicked grin, his white hair and ice blue eyes adding to the chilling look on his face.
“So we tug on the locals purse strings and they lead us to him, then we annihilate him!” Clarice says enthusiastically
“Exactly Clarice, no more pointless village burnings, we will cut the rebellions heart out decisively!” Dournier says with a smile the scar on the right side of his face making the act of smiling a grotesque one
“That sounds strange coming from you Dournier” Clovis says in a disgusted tone entering the room
“Ah Clovis...I half expected to find you in a cesspit like Ferelden....still ****ing Rochelle De León? Don’t answer that... understand this all of you, we will do whatever is necessary to bring this province under control, we will try defeating them with their greed but if that fails...we will take far more drastic measures” He says with a eyeing us all with a cold stare.
I shudder after he dismisses us, that man gives me the creeps; I follow Clovis and catch up with him in the courtyard
“Clovis!” I call out; he stops and looks at me with an apprehensive stare
“What is it lad?” He asks moving towards his horse and checking the saddle bags
“What was all that about up there?” I ask, I already know about him and my mother of course, it’s the hostility of the new commander I’m interested in
“What? You mean me and your mother? “He asks jumping to that conclusion
“Clovis I’ve known about that for years, you were my mother’s joy once father died, it doesn’t take a genius to notice the two of you were intimate” I say dismissively
“What then? “He asks curious
“Why did he act so hostile?” I reply, why indeed, have the two of them met?
“Are you sure you want to hear this lad?” he asks staring down at me with a questioning look on his face
“Tell me already!” I reply eagerly
He sighs and stares at the stable ceiling for a moment deep in thought, and then he opens his mouth and begins to recount the details of his relationship with our new commander
“Back in the Nevarran war he was a spoilt brat, got his commission via family connections, but he had a talent for crushing enemy resistance and spent most of the war eliminating peasant villages that sided with Nevarra” he says casting his memory back
“So how do you know him?” I ask
“He served in my cavalry unit along with your father Francois, we were both captains at the time, but he had a radically different style of warfare” Clovis replies with a disgusted face
“I take it that this style involved villages and fire?” I ask with a raised eyebrow
“Correct, he was ruthless and would do anything to bring the peasants in line, be it coercion or extermination, when the war ended and we began a retreat he tried a similar tactic on a village we were fleeing from” Clovis says with a grim look on his face
“What happened?” I ask
“He ordered some houses to be set alight, I had that ordered revoked and he protested calling me a coward, so your father knocked him off his horse with a punch to the head, we left him sprawled on his ass and retreated with the village intact” Clovis replies with a grin
“So he still hates you after all this time?” I ask, it seems crazy for someone to hold a grudge for so long
“Not just me, he hates your family as well because of their connection to me and your father” he replies with a serious look
“so what should we do?” i ask
“Keep your head down lad, he will no doubt be sending us on a hunt in the rebel held regions soon, you need to stay sharp if you want to survive that, because I suspect Dournier intends to put us in harm’s way” he replies with a dark look.
As it turns out Clovis was right, the garrison got a tip off by some peasant farmers a few days later, the wolf was camped in the highlands further inland and so we were mobilised for the hunt, little did I know Dournier considered us a worthy expenditure in return for the death of the wolf, many of us left Amaranthine but few would be coming home.
Wounded horses, I think they must be the most horrific cries I will ever hear, the whole forest road is covered in wounded horses and dead riders, there must be half of Falcon company here, their bodies unceremoniously sprawled across a muddy back road, I lean back on my horse trying to stay steady, the arrow lodged in my shoulder makes this a difficult task.
Clovis has long since ridden off in pursuit of our target, leaving me alone amongst the dead. This whole plan was madness pure and utter insanity, send an armed force into the heart of Rebel held amaranthine to kill one man, I swear that bastard commander sent us in on purpose, if I survive to return to Amaranthine I’ll make him pay dearly.
The bushes nearby begin to rustle, more rebels? As I draw my sword time seems to slow, and the events leading up to this moment flash before my eyes.
8:91 Blessed, Amaranthine, Office of the Garrison Commander
They called him the butcher of Perendale, lord Sebastian Dournier our new commanding officer, the rumours had been doing the rounds across the city ever since his arrival a week ago, rumours of a man who had burned entire villages during the retreat from Nevarra, rumours of a man who would use any means to bring this nation under Orlesian control.
Now we stand looking at him as he paces back and forth across our former Commander Ser Aberlaine’s gutted office. Not even his nepotistic benefactors could protect Aberlaine from the mounting disasters that marked last year, I am reminded of the old chantry story I was told once in my youth, the one that involves the class that misbehaved so much it had its teacher replaced by one far worse in every way, suddenly I daresay I miss Aberlaine.
Sebastian Dournier now busies himself conferring with us, his officers, on his new strategy for defeating the rebellion, Ser Clarice ever the devoted Imperial is ecstatic at his arrival, she finally has a commanding officer who advocates decisive action against the rebels, that must be great for strategists but for me it means getting my arse shot off by ambushes in the woods.
“My predecessor succeeding only in alienating the local populace with his reprisals, we need to win these people’s hearts and minds gentlemen, as such I have placed a bounty on the wolf’s head of one hundred sovereigns, the greed of men shall lead us to him” Dournier says with a wicked grin, his white hair and ice blue eyes adding to the chilling look on his face.
“So we tug on the locals purse strings and they lead us to him, then we annihilate him!” Clarice says enthusiastically
“Exactly Clarice, no more pointless village burnings, we will cut the rebellions heart out decisively!” Dournier says with a smile the scar on the right side of his face making the act of smiling a grotesque one
“That sounds strange coming from you Dournier” Clovis says in a disgusted tone entering the room
“Ah Clovis...I half expected to find you in a cesspit like Ferelden....still ****ing Rochelle De León? Don’t answer that... understand this all of you, we will do whatever is necessary to bring this province under control, we will try defeating them with their greed but if that fails...we will take far more drastic measures” He says with a eyeing us all with a cold stare.
I shudder after he dismisses us, that man gives me the creeps; I follow Clovis and catch up with him in the courtyard
“Clovis!” I call out; he stops and looks at me with an apprehensive stare
“What is it lad?” He asks moving towards his horse and checking the saddle bags
“What was all that about up there?” I ask, I already know about him and my mother of course, it’s the hostility of the new commander I’m interested in
“What? You mean me and your mother? “He asks jumping to that conclusion
“Clovis I’ve known about that for years, you were my mother’s joy once father died, it doesn’t take a genius to notice the two of you were intimate” I say dismissively
“What then? “He asks curious
“Why did he act so hostile?” I reply, why indeed, have the two of them met?
“Are you sure you want to hear this lad?” he asks staring down at me with a questioning look on his face
“Tell me already!” I reply eagerly
He sighs and stares at the stable ceiling for a moment deep in thought, and then he opens his mouth and begins to recount the details of his relationship with our new commander
“Back in the Nevarran war he was a spoilt brat, got his commission via family connections, but he had a talent for crushing enemy resistance and spent most of the war eliminating peasant villages that sided with Nevarra” he says casting his memory back
“So how do you know him?” I ask
“He served in my cavalry unit along with your father Francois, we were both captains at the time, but he had a radically different style of warfare” Clovis replies with a disgusted face
“I take it that this style involved villages and fire?” I ask with a raised eyebrow
“Correct, he was ruthless and would do anything to bring the peasants in line, be it coercion or extermination, when the war ended and we began a retreat he tried a similar tactic on a village we were fleeing from” Clovis says with a grim look on his face
“What happened?” I ask
“He ordered some houses to be set alight, I had that ordered revoked and he protested calling me a coward, so your father knocked him off his horse with a punch to the head, we left him sprawled on his ass and retreated with the village intact” Clovis replies with a grin
“So he still hates you after all this time?” I ask, it seems crazy for someone to hold a grudge for so long
“Not just me, he hates your family as well because of their connection to me and your father” he replies with a serious look
“so what should we do?” i ask
“Keep your head down lad, he will no doubt be sending us on a hunt in the rebel held regions soon, you need to stay sharp if you want to survive that, because I suspect Dournier intends to put us in harm’s way” he replies with a dark look.
As it turns out Clovis was right, the garrison got a tip off by some peasant farmers a few days later, the wolf was camped in the highlands further inland and so we were mobilised for the hunt, little did I know Dournier considered us a worthy expenditure in return for the death of the wolf, many of us left Amaranthine but few would be coming home.
#32
Posté 12 juin 2010 - 04:34
Gilgamesh1138
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Oh he is a right dirty bastard! I hate the new commander already! Great job my friend! You are such a tease, always leaving me wanting more! I love you for it! Can't wait for the next installment.
#34
Posté 14 juin 2010 - 12:23
westiex9
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To Hunt the Wolf Part 2
The charge echoes through the forest as one thousand Orlesian soldiers and Chevalier charge towards the rebel camp below, Dournier’s tactic of bribery seems to have paid off, several desperate farm hands in the area gave us this location, they were starving and had little choice which doesn’t make me feel any better about this.
We seem to have caught the rebels by surprise for once, in the camp below they were busy making what looks like an arms deal, this is cut short by out arrival, adrenalin courses through my veins as we crash through the first of the tents and cut into the bewildered rebels.
To my left a pike skewers one a Chevalier on its point, to my right an Orlesian soldier cuts a fleeing rebels throat with a smirk, a man attempts to pull me off my horse by grabbing at my leg, I draw my sword and cut off his arm with a bloody swing, he falls back his life blood spraying across the grass.
As the men move into the centre of the camp Ser Clarice rallies Falcon Company, calling us to her position in the middle of the chaotic melee filling the camp
“There’s a column of horsemen retreating from this camp, the wolf is likely at their head! The infantry can handle things here it’s our job to catch the prize, Onward!” Clarice yells and we charge after her, horse hooves crashing through mud and corpses as we pursue the wolf deeper into the forest, something feels wrong though.
We race after the enemy in a loose formation and ride deep into the forest, I hear something like a rope tensing against hard wood, a stray arrow flies past me and kills a man’s horse flinging the unfortunate Chevalier off his horse and killing him.
The forest fills with roars as a large band of rebel pike men and archers descend upon us, i hear the distant thunder of hooves
“They’ve got cavalry!” someone yells only to be silenced by a pike to the neck
Out of the trees bursts a huge formation of Cavalry, I stare surprised, I didn’t think Ferelden’s had any horsemen, they crash into our flank and begin cutting down Chevalier who are caught by surprise. A pike man tries to kill my horse with a thrust but I evade the attack and drive my blade into his skull, he slides of the blades end and collapses on the floor in a fit of spasms of gurgling noises as blood runs down his face, an Arrow comes out of nowhere and crashes into my shoulder.
“Arrggghhh!!” I howl in pain as the arrow lodges itself in my shoulder
Around me the battle is absolute chaos, the Ferelden Cavalry advance has finally begun to stall, once again the rebels find themselves outmatched by falcon company’s superior training, we begin to push them back, I spot the archer who hit me and spur my horse forward after him as he begins to flee, he runs as fast as his legs can, I can see a wet patch spreading across his breeches as my horse draws closer to him, he falls to the floor and starts weeping his face covered in mud and tears
“No please!! Don’t kill me! I have a wife and child!” he yells in Ferelden
“Im sorry, but I have family I need to get back to as well!” I reply drawing my sword
“No!!! Please! No!” he cries as I raise the blade and swing
His pleas are cut off along with his head as his corpse falls backwards, I feel dirtied by the deed, like I’ve murdered a little part of myself as well, but I had little choice, this is war and only one of us gets to go home when it’s all over, besides the knife he was holding behind his back wasn’t there by accident.
I ride back down into the forest below in time to see the enemy retreat, Clarice calls a charge and the Chevalier pursue the broken enemy cavalry, Clovis breaks off and rides in the opposite direction, riding a at full gallop after someone he’s seen in the tree line.
Alone I ride back into the field below and try to stay on my horse, the blood lost from the shoulder wound making me light headed, the cries of wounded men and horse fill the air, but as time passes the cries stop as death sets in. I stare for a while at the carnage around me, my gaze often met by glassy eyed dead, their own gazing almost accusing as they are gazing at me and asking “why” I lose track of time as I look across the scene before me, then I hear something a groan as a man struggles beneath the weight of his dead horse.
I ride to the source of the noise and find a man with a spider tattoo across the side of his face trying to push off the body of his slain mount; I draw my blade and point it at his neck
“Don’t move! You try anything and I behead you!” I yell pointing my bloodied sword at the man
“All right ill stay still! Just don’t kill me!” he yells back terrified
I lean back in my saddle and try to compose myself, the wound in my shoulder feels like its burning and I struggle to manage the agonising pain filling the wound, I stare at the dead realizing how many of our men have fallen, of the 40 odd Chevalier in falcon company close to nineteen are lying slain on this field. I curse Dournier’s strategy; did he know the place would be a death trap? Did he sacrifice us willingly just to get at the wolf and perhaps Clovis too? I swear that I’ll avenge myself if I get the chance.
Something begins to rustle in the nearby bushes, I draw my sword as terror and excitement fill my mind, a giant shadow strides out of the overgrown thorns, Clovis and he bears the hand of the wolf, severed and still in its wolf skin gauntlet.
“Clovis! Did you get him?” I ask
“No...He managed to retreat, but this is a start, next time I will take his head” Clovis says grasping the severed hand with a grim look on his face
My prisoner begins to laugh, and doesn’t stop even when I threaten him with a thrashing, he looks up at us and begins to cackle loudly
“No one ever catches the wolf! He’s a munting bloody ghost! He always lives to fight another day!” the prisoner proclaims in a maddening voice
Clovis does not reply, instead he walks up to the prisoner who is still trapped under his horse and stares at his face, the Prisoner stares back disturbed by the sudden recognition on Clovis’s face and by the smirk now filling the old giants mouth.
“My lad you’ve bagged yourself a prize here, Augustine “spider” Barnabus, a free marches weapons trader wanted for supplying arms to the rebellion, he’s got a heft bounty on his head” Clovis says grinning at me
“Looks like we won” I say in a dull and weary voice
“It would appear so” Clovis replies sitting on the ground exhausted
“I doubt most of us will be able to enjoy that victory though, dead heroes can’t drink ale especially not with pikes in their faces” I say staring at the maimed bodies of my former comrades
“You sound just like your father” Clovis says with a weary sigh
I sigh myself and get off my horse to sit beside Clovis, the arrow now numb and no longer paining me
“Yeah well war does that to you, makes you cynical” I reply kneeling next to him
“You bastards can’t hand me over to the Authorities I’m a bleeding trader, it’s not my fault so many of you bucket heads died!!” Augustine yells in protest, I rise and kick him in the head with an armoured boot
“Shut up!” I growl and he goes cold, having been rendered unconscious by the blow
I sit back down and place my head in my hands, exhaustion overtaking me, was this even worth the amount of death it took to achieve this raid? A severed hand and a crooked arms merchant? I am too tired to worry about it and simply lie in my spot too exhausted to move, war takes it out of a man you know.
The charge echoes through the forest as one thousand Orlesian soldiers and Chevalier charge towards the rebel camp below, Dournier’s tactic of bribery seems to have paid off, several desperate farm hands in the area gave us this location, they were starving and had little choice which doesn’t make me feel any better about this.
We seem to have caught the rebels by surprise for once, in the camp below they were busy making what looks like an arms deal, this is cut short by out arrival, adrenalin courses through my veins as we crash through the first of the tents and cut into the bewildered rebels.
To my left a pike skewers one a Chevalier on its point, to my right an Orlesian soldier cuts a fleeing rebels throat with a smirk, a man attempts to pull me off my horse by grabbing at my leg, I draw my sword and cut off his arm with a bloody swing, he falls back his life blood spraying across the grass.
As the men move into the centre of the camp Ser Clarice rallies Falcon Company, calling us to her position in the middle of the chaotic melee filling the camp
“There’s a column of horsemen retreating from this camp, the wolf is likely at their head! The infantry can handle things here it’s our job to catch the prize, Onward!” Clarice yells and we charge after her, horse hooves crashing through mud and corpses as we pursue the wolf deeper into the forest, something feels wrong though.
We race after the enemy in a loose formation and ride deep into the forest, I hear something like a rope tensing against hard wood, a stray arrow flies past me and kills a man’s horse flinging the unfortunate Chevalier off his horse and killing him.
The forest fills with roars as a large band of rebel pike men and archers descend upon us, i hear the distant thunder of hooves
“They’ve got cavalry!” someone yells only to be silenced by a pike to the neck
Out of the trees bursts a huge formation of Cavalry, I stare surprised, I didn’t think Ferelden’s had any horsemen, they crash into our flank and begin cutting down Chevalier who are caught by surprise. A pike man tries to kill my horse with a thrust but I evade the attack and drive my blade into his skull, he slides of the blades end and collapses on the floor in a fit of spasms of gurgling noises as blood runs down his face, an Arrow comes out of nowhere and crashes into my shoulder.
“Arrggghhh!!” I howl in pain as the arrow lodges itself in my shoulder
Around me the battle is absolute chaos, the Ferelden Cavalry advance has finally begun to stall, once again the rebels find themselves outmatched by falcon company’s superior training, we begin to push them back, I spot the archer who hit me and spur my horse forward after him as he begins to flee, he runs as fast as his legs can, I can see a wet patch spreading across his breeches as my horse draws closer to him, he falls to the floor and starts weeping his face covered in mud and tears
“No please!! Don’t kill me! I have a wife and child!” he yells in Ferelden
“Im sorry, but I have family I need to get back to as well!” I reply drawing my sword
“No!!! Please! No!” he cries as I raise the blade and swing
His pleas are cut off along with his head as his corpse falls backwards, I feel dirtied by the deed, like I’ve murdered a little part of myself as well, but I had little choice, this is war and only one of us gets to go home when it’s all over, besides the knife he was holding behind his back wasn’t there by accident.
I ride back down into the forest below in time to see the enemy retreat, Clarice calls a charge and the Chevalier pursue the broken enemy cavalry, Clovis breaks off and rides in the opposite direction, riding a at full gallop after someone he’s seen in the tree line.
Alone I ride back into the field below and try to stay on my horse, the blood lost from the shoulder wound making me light headed, the cries of wounded men and horse fill the air, but as time passes the cries stop as death sets in. I stare for a while at the carnage around me, my gaze often met by glassy eyed dead, their own gazing almost accusing as they are gazing at me and asking “why” I lose track of time as I look across the scene before me, then I hear something a groan as a man struggles beneath the weight of his dead horse.
I ride to the source of the noise and find a man with a spider tattoo across the side of his face trying to push off the body of his slain mount; I draw my blade and point it at his neck
“Don’t move! You try anything and I behead you!” I yell pointing my bloodied sword at the man
“All right ill stay still! Just don’t kill me!” he yells back terrified
I lean back in my saddle and try to compose myself, the wound in my shoulder feels like its burning and I struggle to manage the agonising pain filling the wound, I stare at the dead realizing how many of our men have fallen, of the 40 odd Chevalier in falcon company close to nineteen are lying slain on this field. I curse Dournier’s strategy; did he know the place would be a death trap? Did he sacrifice us willingly just to get at the wolf and perhaps Clovis too? I swear that I’ll avenge myself if I get the chance.
Something begins to rustle in the nearby bushes, I draw my sword as terror and excitement fill my mind, a giant shadow strides out of the overgrown thorns, Clovis and he bears the hand of the wolf, severed and still in its wolf skin gauntlet.
“Clovis! Did you get him?” I ask
“No...He managed to retreat, but this is a start, next time I will take his head” Clovis says grasping the severed hand with a grim look on his face
My prisoner begins to laugh, and doesn’t stop even when I threaten him with a thrashing, he looks up at us and begins to cackle loudly
“No one ever catches the wolf! He’s a munting bloody ghost! He always lives to fight another day!” the prisoner proclaims in a maddening voice
Clovis does not reply, instead he walks up to the prisoner who is still trapped under his horse and stares at his face, the Prisoner stares back disturbed by the sudden recognition on Clovis’s face and by the smirk now filling the old giants mouth.
“My lad you’ve bagged yourself a prize here, Augustine “spider” Barnabus, a free marches weapons trader wanted for supplying arms to the rebellion, he’s got a heft bounty on his head” Clovis says grinning at me
“Looks like we won” I say in a dull and weary voice
“It would appear so” Clovis replies sitting on the ground exhausted
“I doubt most of us will be able to enjoy that victory though, dead heroes can’t drink ale especially not with pikes in their faces” I say staring at the maimed bodies of my former comrades
“You sound just like your father” Clovis says with a weary sigh
I sigh myself and get off my horse to sit beside Clovis, the arrow now numb and no longer paining me
“Yeah well war does that to you, makes you cynical” I reply kneeling next to him
“You bastards can’t hand me over to the Authorities I’m a bleeding trader, it’s not my fault so many of you bucket heads died!!” Augustine yells in protest, I rise and kick him in the head with an armoured boot
“Shut up!” I growl and he goes cold, having been rendered unconscious by the blow
I sit back down and place my head in my hands, exhaustion overtaking me, was this even worth the amount of death it took to achieve this raid? A severed hand and a crooked arms merchant? I am too tired to worry about it and simply lie in my spot too exhausted to move, war takes it out of a man you know.
#35
Posté 15 juin 2010 - 05:32
Gilgamesh1138
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Sorry I am late with this westie. I love it. I hurt for our hero. I don't want him to turn into a monster! But war is so damn hard. Great job as always my friend . I feel for the Fereldens, they are my peeps. LOL. But I feel for the Orlesians too. Fantastic writing.
#36
Posté 17 juin 2010 - 12:29
Slim Warden
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I do like it West, as you should know I really do.
#37
Posté 13 juillet 2010 - 11:43
westiex9
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A little Preview of what the Next Story is going to be
The Green Abyss:
In the Wake of the raid on the Wolf's camp in Amaranthine Paul De Leon is decorated,Promoted and Miserable choosing to spend his days and nights drinking himself into a stupor at the local ale houses that dot amaranthines seedy backstreets
Seeing his pitiful Condition and deciding it is bad for morale the Commander of the Garrison decides to manipulate the down on his luck Captain into doing his dirty work, A famed Orlesian General has deserted and gone into the Brecillian Forest where he hides surrounded by crazed followers in the overgrown canopy
Far from home, cut off from any help from Clovis or his fellow comrades Paul is forced to rely on his wits and the aid of the recently pardoned Marcus, who the Garrison Commander has spared from execution in order to keep an eye on Paul in case he goes soft.
But the Dark Forests of the Brecilian hold nightmarish secrets and besides the hordes of deserting Orlesian's and wild spawned horrors, Paul must also face his own demons which threaten to shatter what sanity he retains in the Green Abyss of trees and darkness.
The Green Abyss:
In the Wake of the raid on the Wolf's camp in Amaranthine Paul De Leon is decorated,Promoted and Miserable choosing to spend his days and nights drinking himself into a stupor at the local ale houses that dot amaranthines seedy backstreets
Seeing his pitiful Condition and deciding it is bad for morale the Commander of the Garrison decides to manipulate the down on his luck Captain into doing his dirty work, A famed Orlesian General has deserted and gone into the Brecillian Forest where he hides surrounded by crazed followers in the overgrown canopy
Far from home, cut off from any help from Clovis or his fellow comrades Paul is forced to rely on his wits and the aid of the recently pardoned Marcus, who the Garrison Commander has spared from execution in order to keep an eye on Paul in case he goes soft.
But the Dark Forests of the Brecilian hold nightmarish secrets and besides the hordes of deserting Orlesian's and wild spawned horrors, Paul must also face his own demons which threaten to shatter what sanity he retains in the Green Abyss of trees and darkness.
#38
Posté 14 juillet 2010 - 12:20
Slim Warden
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Don't make us wait to long for the next story West, its looks epic.
Modifié par Slim Warden, 14 juillet 2010 - 12:20 .
#39
Posté 14 juillet 2010 - 12:20
Slim Warden
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(Um I believe I've just suffered my first double post glitch thingy)
Modifié par Slim Warden, 14 juillet 2010 - 12:25 .
#40
Posté 14 juillet 2010 - 12:32
Gilgamesh1138
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WOOT westie, you did recharge didn't you! *does happy dance*
#41
Posté 15 juillet 2010 - 11:25
westiex9
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The Green Abyss chapter 1: Only The Dead know The End
The room stinks of stale sweat as the blurry figures march in, i must be a pathetic sight to these formally dressed guardsmen, captain Paul de Leon a decorated hero of Orlais lying unshaven and reeking on the floor of his quarters, in a pool of his own vomit, i bet they can't imagine me to be the same man that General Dournier pinned a medal to the chest of three months ago.
"This is the captain? looks more like a beggar" the first guardsman says disgusted as i lie moaning on the floor
"'Eugh!! smells like one too"' the second man mutters holding his nose
This all started three months ago, i killed a man...in cold blood...he begged for his life on his knees, his pants soiled and tears streaming down his eyes, he begged and i cut his head off and left his body to rot. I returned here to Amaranthine and Dournier showered me with praises for my actions during the raid, promoted me to captain and gave me fancy new quarters, but the face of my victim haunts me still night and day, so i drink and drink until my mind washes away in a sea of alcohol.
Thats why these guardsmen are here now,Dournier planned to use me as a propaganda figure for morale, i spoiled his plan by turning to the drink and so now he will make an example of me, oh yes im going to be punished and he is going to make me suffer every minute of that punishment, Sebastian Dournier doesn't like to be made a fool of, least of all by the son of an old rival.
"Whats the Army coming to? if this useless bastard can make captain! they're practically giving titles away these days, bloody nobles!" one of the men grumbles as they drag me to the wash tub, now filled with ice cold water
I groan like a wounded animal as they dunk my unwashed hide into the tub, months of filth seared clean by the icy chill of the water, again and again im dunked head first into the vile chill, the guards seemingly deriving some sick enjoyment from it.
" I did not answer the call to arms so i could spend my days scrubbing some washed up noblemans whelp!!" one of the guards growls as the water spills over me, these men do not like me, ive long since lost their respect
Finally after being dressed in my only clean uniform they drag me out of the room and down the courtyards towards dournier's office, slamming the door behind them as i find myself standing before my commanding officer, he is not pleased to see me.
"Take a seat De Leon!" Dournier snaps in a commanding voice, the look of disgust on his scarred face evident
I sit in the chair and feel as though im on trial, and in a sense i am, my crime is breaking the cohesion of Dournier's new military command, and now im going to have to answer for this.
"Three months ago i pinned a medal on your uniform for doing this province an outstanding service,now look at you! no better then the alley beggars that hang around the Inns and taverns like rats waiting for scraps!" he says pointing an accusing finger at me
I don't answer, ive not been dragged here for a freindly chat, im here to have a strip torn off my back and to be lectured on my failures
"Such conduct is unbecoming of an Officer of Orlais, by rights i could have you flogged De Leon! but i have decided you can atone in another way" The General says passing me a large scroll bearing the Imperial seal
"You are to leave for the Docks of Lake Calenhad immediatley, your orders are contained in that scroll and your companions will meet you at the Docks, your bags were packed while you were led here" he says casually, perhaps knowing he is sending me on a mission i am not likely to survive
"Now get out of my sight..and De Leon..Don't come back until the job is done, and if it isn't done don't come back at all"' He says dismissing me with a wave of the hand
So this is my punishment, sent south on a quest i have no knowledge of at all, and won't know a thing about until i read the orders in this scroll, i am not particularly surprised, Dournier is well known for his treatment of failure and weakness, i will either suceed and win back my favour or i will die and be forgotten.
And so i Ride south to the Docks, at least a few days travel before i arrive, on the journey south i break the seal on the scroll and read my orders for the first time
"'
General Francis De Villiers has abandoned his posting on the Gwaren Passage, taking with him an entire company of seasoned men, mostly local militia and mercenaries hired to guard the road to the logging town of Gwaren
De Villiers has grown disillusioned with our Righteous cause and betrayed both Emperor and Empire, he is to be apprehended and returned to Amaranthine either alive or dead
Don't expect him to be easy to find, the Brecillian Forest is vast and Dangerous, He will be hiding within its deep canopy and his men will die to protect him, He is well known for his charisma and Valour, a decorated veteran who inspires fanatical loyalty in all who serve under him.
I have procured the services of a Dalish tracker familiar with the area named Magwen and the aid of several woodsmen who know the region, i have also taken the liberty of provisonally pardoning an old acquaintance of yours...i suspect you will have much to discuss
Do not fail me De Leon, this is your last chance
General Dournier"
I fold the note when finished and ride on southwards, i have a long journey ahead of me, and who knows what awaits me in the shrouded darkness of the Brecillian, Maker help me.
The room stinks of stale sweat as the blurry figures march in, i must be a pathetic sight to these formally dressed guardsmen, captain Paul de Leon a decorated hero of Orlais lying unshaven and reeking on the floor of his quarters, in a pool of his own vomit, i bet they can't imagine me to be the same man that General Dournier pinned a medal to the chest of three months ago.
"This is the captain? looks more like a beggar" the first guardsman says disgusted as i lie moaning on the floor
"'Eugh!! smells like one too"' the second man mutters holding his nose
This all started three months ago, i killed a man...in cold blood...he begged for his life on his knees, his pants soiled and tears streaming down his eyes, he begged and i cut his head off and left his body to rot. I returned here to Amaranthine and Dournier showered me with praises for my actions during the raid, promoted me to captain and gave me fancy new quarters, but the face of my victim haunts me still night and day, so i drink and drink until my mind washes away in a sea of alcohol.
Thats why these guardsmen are here now,Dournier planned to use me as a propaganda figure for morale, i spoiled his plan by turning to the drink and so now he will make an example of me, oh yes im going to be punished and he is going to make me suffer every minute of that punishment, Sebastian Dournier doesn't like to be made a fool of, least of all by the son of an old rival.
"Whats the Army coming to? if this useless bastard can make captain! they're practically giving titles away these days, bloody nobles!" one of the men grumbles as they drag me to the wash tub, now filled with ice cold water
I groan like a wounded animal as they dunk my unwashed hide into the tub, months of filth seared clean by the icy chill of the water, again and again im dunked head first into the vile chill, the guards seemingly deriving some sick enjoyment from it.
" I did not answer the call to arms so i could spend my days scrubbing some washed up noblemans whelp!!" one of the guards growls as the water spills over me, these men do not like me, ive long since lost their respect
Finally after being dressed in my only clean uniform they drag me out of the room and down the courtyards towards dournier's office, slamming the door behind them as i find myself standing before my commanding officer, he is not pleased to see me.
"Take a seat De Leon!" Dournier snaps in a commanding voice, the look of disgust on his scarred face evident
I sit in the chair and feel as though im on trial, and in a sense i am, my crime is breaking the cohesion of Dournier's new military command, and now im going to have to answer for this.
"Three months ago i pinned a medal on your uniform for doing this province an outstanding service,now look at you! no better then the alley beggars that hang around the Inns and taverns like rats waiting for scraps!" he says pointing an accusing finger at me
I don't answer, ive not been dragged here for a freindly chat, im here to have a strip torn off my back and to be lectured on my failures
"Such conduct is unbecoming of an Officer of Orlais, by rights i could have you flogged De Leon! but i have decided you can atone in another way" The General says passing me a large scroll bearing the Imperial seal
"You are to leave for the Docks of Lake Calenhad immediatley, your orders are contained in that scroll and your companions will meet you at the Docks, your bags were packed while you were led here" he says casually, perhaps knowing he is sending me on a mission i am not likely to survive
"Now get out of my sight..and De Leon..Don't come back until the job is done, and if it isn't done don't come back at all"' He says dismissing me with a wave of the hand
So this is my punishment, sent south on a quest i have no knowledge of at all, and won't know a thing about until i read the orders in this scroll, i am not particularly surprised, Dournier is well known for his treatment of failure and weakness, i will either suceed and win back my favour or i will die and be forgotten.
And so i Ride south to the Docks, at least a few days travel before i arrive, on the journey south i break the seal on the scroll and read my orders for the first time
"'
General Francis De Villiers has abandoned his posting on the Gwaren Passage, taking with him an entire company of seasoned men, mostly local militia and mercenaries hired to guard the road to the logging town of Gwaren
De Villiers has grown disillusioned with our Righteous cause and betrayed both Emperor and Empire, he is to be apprehended and returned to Amaranthine either alive or dead
Don't expect him to be easy to find, the Brecillian Forest is vast and Dangerous, He will be hiding within its deep canopy and his men will die to protect him, He is well known for his charisma and Valour, a decorated veteran who inspires fanatical loyalty in all who serve under him.
I have procured the services of a Dalish tracker familiar with the area named Magwen and the aid of several woodsmen who know the region, i have also taken the liberty of provisonally pardoning an old acquaintance of yours...i suspect you will have much to discuss
Do not fail me De Leon, this is your last chance
General Dournier"
I fold the note when finished and ride on southwards, i have a long journey ahead of me, and who knows what awaits me in the shrouded darkness of the Brecillian, Maker help me.
#42
Posté 16 juillet 2010 - 01:22
Slim Warden
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The Brecilian Forest, yep thats going to be a rough ride for Paul.
#43
Posté 16 juillet 2010 - 05:30
Gilgamesh1138
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Fantastic! I just want Paul to pull his head out. He needs to use that magnificient brain and stay alive. I like him too much. 
#44
Posté 25 juillet 2010 - 10:36
westiex9
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The Green Abyss Chapter 2: Making Passage
Lake Calenhad is a haunted place, or so the legends say, once heard a man mutter that the seas of mist floating across the midnight waters of the lake were the souls of the drowned, i laughed at the time but the eerie sight of the darkened waters still gives me the chills.
And even if this lake isn't haunted by the long dead,very much living ghosts from my own past now await me at the docks, Marcus the man whose violence and savagery stood as an example for how far a man can fall in war stands at the dock, pardoned courtesy of the new general. The small party at the dock consists of a few grim looking woodsmen, Marcus and a silent tatooed elf who had to be Magwen.
"Looks like Dournier was telling the truth after all" i mutter staring at Marcus
"The General had me pardoned a few days before i was due for the noose, said i was to aid you in dealing with this traitor, and in exchange all the charges will go away" he says with a satisfied grin that sickens me to my core
He seems obivious to the fact he beat a man to death in a tavern brawl, one new deed of violence and he gets to walk free, i really should't be so surprised, they were never likely to hang a Chevalier for killing a mere peasant, the empire cares very little for the defenceless or innocent in its conquered lands.
And yet i cannot be completley indignant to his presence here, his violence mirrors my own, i have killed in cold blood too and even if my actions were in battle, they were still cold and ruthless. we are all murderers in this murky and confused conflict and every life i take seems to dull my compassion and ability to see right and wrong a little more.
"We are leaving for the Gwaren passage, now" i say signaling to the bargeman
"Gwaren, i hear those woods hold more rebels then trees!" Marcus replies loudly
"Were not hunting rebels, we're hunting our own" i say grimly
"Theres more in those woods then rebels and deserters" Magwen says darkly, speaking for the first time
I hear the Brecillian is haunted by the souls of those slain in untold numbers of battles stretching back to ancient Tevinter, and if we're not careful we find ourselves added to the list of long dead, the sheer insanity of this task suddenly strikes me, im being sent into one of the worlds largest forest's to hunt for a band of deserters who could be hidden anywhere, i get the feeling that im not meant to come back from this alive.
The barge begins to cast of down the lake, the only light guiding our way being the lanterns hanging from the sides of the craft, the lights barely pierce the long clouds of mist that rolls across the murky waters, i am reminded of ancient horror stories of damed souls being ferried to the darkest realms of the fade.
Lake Calenhad is a haunted place, or so the legends say, once heard a man mutter that the seas of mist floating across the midnight waters of the lake were the souls of the drowned, i laughed at the time but the eerie sight of the darkened waters still gives me the chills.
And even if this lake isn't haunted by the long dead,very much living ghosts from my own past now await me at the docks, Marcus the man whose violence and savagery stood as an example for how far a man can fall in war stands at the dock, pardoned courtesy of the new general. The small party at the dock consists of a few grim looking woodsmen, Marcus and a silent tatooed elf who had to be Magwen.
"Looks like Dournier was telling the truth after all" i mutter staring at Marcus
"The General had me pardoned a few days before i was due for the noose, said i was to aid you in dealing with this traitor, and in exchange all the charges will go away" he says with a satisfied grin that sickens me to my core
He seems obivious to the fact he beat a man to death in a tavern brawl, one new deed of violence and he gets to walk free, i really should't be so surprised, they were never likely to hang a Chevalier for killing a mere peasant, the empire cares very little for the defenceless or innocent in its conquered lands.
And yet i cannot be completley indignant to his presence here, his violence mirrors my own, i have killed in cold blood too and even if my actions were in battle, they were still cold and ruthless. we are all murderers in this murky and confused conflict and every life i take seems to dull my compassion and ability to see right and wrong a little more.
"We are leaving for the Gwaren passage, now" i say signaling to the bargeman
"Gwaren, i hear those woods hold more rebels then trees!" Marcus replies loudly
"Were not hunting rebels, we're hunting our own" i say grimly
"Theres more in those woods then rebels and deserters" Magwen says darkly, speaking for the first time
I hear the Brecillian is haunted by the souls of those slain in untold numbers of battles stretching back to ancient Tevinter, and if we're not careful we find ourselves added to the list of long dead, the sheer insanity of this task suddenly strikes me, im being sent into one of the worlds largest forest's to hunt for a band of deserters who could be hidden anywhere, i get the feeling that im not meant to come back from this alive.
The barge begins to cast of down the lake, the only light guiding our way being the lanterns hanging from the sides of the craft, the lights barely pierce the long clouds of mist that rolls across the murky waters, i am reminded of ancient horror stories of damed souls being ferried to the darkest realms of the fade.
#45
Posté 25 juillet 2010 - 12:16
Slim Warden
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This is getting pretty grim, marcus, the Brecilian, I'm feeling bad for Paul right now. Excellent work West.
#46
Posté 28 juillet 2010 - 01:40
westiex9
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The Green Abyss Chapter 3: The Trees Have Eyes
What little sleep I get in between the days of travel across southern Ferelden are not peaceful, Mathiue haunts my dreams with his memory, it’s always the same dream a flashback to a happier time in Val Chevin, the warm summer sun in our faces as we lie in the golden fields that surround my father's estate, we have just made love and he sketches something contentedly in his notes, its a picture of some wild flowers drawn in the style of the Dalish.I still carry that picture with me everywhere, its kept me strong because it holds the promise of a return to my beloved artist and the life I had in Val Chevin, but it pains me to look at it, it reminds me of the things I’ve lost in this wretched country.
"Wake up, we're close to the forest" Magwen says stirring me from my sleep
The tattooed elf instructs us to pack up the camp and be ready to move on, we are now in the Gwaren passage
and the trees surround us as they soar above ground like great spears, Magwen says little to anyone save when giving instructions and I get the feeling he has little time for my kind, and yet here he is leading us into the forest leading me to suspect he has reasons other than gold for being here.
We soon leave the beaten path and begin to descend into the dark forest interior, any light is soon devoured by the unbroken canopy above and we are left to wander the green in darkness, after a time we stop and rest beneath a tall oak, I can’t shake the feeling something is wrong, this forest gives me the creeps, and I’m sure it’s just my imagination but it feels like we are being watched.
“How will we know where to find this deserter anyway” Marcus asks irritably as we sit around a small fire resting our weary limbs
“The man you’re looking for has a large camp deeper in the forest, trust me I know where to find him” Magwen says sharpening his blade with a whetstone, it was a nasty looking curved Dalish knife, the sort of weapon that could gut a man with fearful ease
“You sound like your eager to find him” I reply staring into the weak light of our small fire
“He has wronged me, this is my chance to return the favour” Magwen says cryptically “
What sort of wrong are we talking about here? Don’t tell me he stole your tattoo needles!” Marcus says mockingly
“”I would not expect a Shem to understand” he replies grimly
“Try me” I say wanting to know my guides motives
Magwen sighs and goes silent, he stares into the flames deep in thought likely weighing the importance of his information and whether we should know about it or not, after a few moments he begins to speak again
“The man you hunt was once a diligent servant of your people, he patrolled the passage with his militia and fought to keep the rebels at bay, but he suffered from a weakness that is the undoing of many men” Magwen says with a mirthless grin
“Women” I reply
“Indeed, he fell for a local woman and began to engage in a forbidden relationship, eventually they both grew tired of the war and she convinced him to take his men and flee into the forest were they would be left alone” Magwen says his face
“Romantic but it does not explain why you are willing to lead us to him” I reply trying to force more details from him
“The story does not end happily, she grew sick whilst they hid here and in desperation he sought out the aid of healers, my clan” Magwen says darkly
“So he sought help from you so what?”Marcus asks
“He wanted us to cure his lover using the old magic’s, our clan keeper explained she was too far gone for the magic’s to have any use, so he flew into a rage and swore vengeance” Magwen says the dark memories filling his eyes
“What did he do?” I ask
“He returned with his militia and murdered our keeper and all of our small clan’s young, he only spared myself and the elderly, said he wanted us to see the thing we cared about die as he would” Magwen says with an angry tone in his voice
“So he killed you clan!” I reply shocked
“He killed my Clan and we will never be able to recover, so I shall return the favour and help you kill him” He says with a vicious grin on his face that makes me feel uneasy
“Our orders were dead or alive, how do you know he will be killed?” I ask
“Oh I know, he will never be captured, he will fight to the death and you will kill him” Magwen says with certainty
“We’ll see, we have to reach him first” I say rising to my feet, we need to move before all the light is swallowed up by night
We spend the next hour trudging the forest floor, the buzzing of insects and the hiss of other animals filling the cold evening forest air, a smell begins to fill our nostrils after an hour of walking and the familiar stink of copper tells me instantly what we have stumbled upon, bodies and likely killed violently
“Maker! Look at this mess” one of the woodsmen says taken aback by the gore covering the ground in front of us
Two bodies lie mangled and torn to ribbons on the leaf strewn floor, their clothing is nearly as shredded as their flesh and I have to strain my eyes to make out the militia uniforms they are wearing, their bodies are like pulped fruit, their broken bodies lying shattered on the ground.
“What could have done this?” I ask amazed by the savagery of the attacks on the two bodies
“Something worse than any rebel, this forest is haunted by the long dead and the werewolf abominations now stalk the forest floor” he says staring at the butchered corpses before us
“Is it hunting us?” I ask
“I believe this may be bait” Magwen says darkly
And deep down in the pit of my soul I can feel fear, because whatever mauled and butchered the two men in front of me is clearly still at large, and I can’t shake the feeling we are being watched.
End of Part 1
What little sleep I get in between the days of travel across southern Ferelden are not peaceful, Mathiue haunts my dreams with his memory, it’s always the same dream a flashback to a happier time in Val Chevin, the warm summer sun in our faces as we lie in the golden fields that surround my father's estate, we have just made love and he sketches something contentedly in his notes, its a picture of some wild flowers drawn in the style of the Dalish.I still carry that picture with me everywhere, its kept me strong because it holds the promise of a return to my beloved artist and the life I had in Val Chevin, but it pains me to look at it, it reminds me of the things I’ve lost in this wretched country.
"Wake up, we're close to the forest" Magwen says stirring me from my sleep
The tattooed elf instructs us to pack up the camp and be ready to move on, we are now in the Gwaren passage
and the trees surround us as they soar above ground like great spears, Magwen says little to anyone save when giving instructions and I get the feeling he has little time for my kind, and yet here he is leading us into the forest leading me to suspect he has reasons other than gold for being here.
We soon leave the beaten path and begin to descend into the dark forest interior, any light is soon devoured by the unbroken canopy above and we are left to wander the green in darkness, after a time we stop and rest beneath a tall oak, I can’t shake the feeling something is wrong, this forest gives me the creeps, and I’m sure it’s just my imagination but it feels like we are being watched.
“How will we know where to find this deserter anyway” Marcus asks irritably as we sit around a small fire resting our weary limbs
“The man you’re looking for has a large camp deeper in the forest, trust me I know where to find him” Magwen says sharpening his blade with a whetstone, it was a nasty looking curved Dalish knife, the sort of weapon that could gut a man with fearful ease
“You sound like your eager to find him” I reply staring into the weak light of our small fire
“He has wronged me, this is my chance to return the favour” Magwen says cryptically “
What sort of wrong are we talking about here? Don’t tell me he stole your tattoo needles!” Marcus says mockingly
“”I would not expect a Shem to understand” he replies grimly
“Try me” I say wanting to know my guides motives
Magwen sighs and goes silent, he stares into the flames deep in thought likely weighing the importance of his information and whether we should know about it or not, after a few moments he begins to speak again
“The man you hunt was once a diligent servant of your people, he patrolled the passage with his militia and fought to keep the rebels at bay, but he suffered from a weakness that is the undoing of many men” Magwen says with a mirthless grin
“Women” I reply
“Indeed, he fell for a local woman and began to engage in a forbidden relationship, eventually they both grew tired of the war and she convinced him to take his men and flee into the forest were they would be left alone” Magwen says his face
“Romantic but it does not explain why you are willing to lead us to him” I reply trying to force more details from him
“The story does not end happily, she grew sick whilst they hid here and in desperation he sought out the aid of healers, my clan” Magwen says darkly
“So he sought help from you so what?”Marcus asks
“He wanted us to cure his lover using the old magic’s, our clan keeper explained she was too far gone for the magic’s to have any use, so he flew into a rage and swore vengeance” Magwen says the dark memories filling his eyes
“What did he do?” I ask
“He returned with his militia and murdered our keeper and all of our small clan’s young, he only spared myself and the elderly, said he wanted us to see the thing we cared about die as he would” Magwen says with an angry tone in his voice
“So he killed you clan!” I reply shocked
“He killed my Clan and we will never be able to recover, so I shall return the favour and help you kill him” He says with a vicious grin on his face that makes me feel uneasy
“Our orders were dead or alive, how do you know he will be killed?” I ask
“Oh I know, he will never be captured, he will fight to the death and you will kill him” Magwen says with certainty
“We’ll see, we have to reach him first” I say rising to my feet, we need to move before all the light is swallowed up by night
We spend the next hour trudging the forest floor, the buzzing of insects and the hiss of other animals filling the cold evening forest air, a smell begins to fill our nostrils after an hour of walking and the familiar stink of copper tells me instantly what we have stumbled upon, bodies and likely killed violently
“Maker! Look at this mess” one of the woodsmen says taken aback by the gore covering the ground in front of us
Two bodies lie mangled and torn to ribbons on the leaf strewn floor, their clothing is nearly as shredded as their flesh and I have to strain my eyes to make out the militia uniforms they are wearing, their bodies are like pulped fruit, their broken bodies lying shattered on the ground.
“What could have done this?” I ask amazed by the savagery of the attacks on the two bodies
“Something worse than any rebel, this forest is haunted by the long dead and the werewolf abominations now stalk the forest floor” he says staring at the butchered corpses before us
“Is it hunting us?” I ask
“I believe this may be bait” Magwen says darkly
And deep down in the pit of my soul I can feel fear, because whatever mauled and butchered the two men in front of me is clearly still at large, and I can’t shake the feeling we are being watched.
End of Part 1
Modifié par westiex9, 28 juillet 2010 - 01:42 .
