1 réponse à ce sujet

[Esbatty]

Since I suddenly have the urge to write various one-shots and minis for various characters and scenes throughout the Dragon Age stories, I figured I'd do up another thread instead of cluttering up my Morrigan-Cousland series "In The Land Of Ever".

Another shorter series is "Oddities" which is another Morrigan-centric Warden tale but set during specific events before, during, and after The Blight, this time starring the off-kilter misadventures of Mage Warden Renard Amell. Its a wholly different relationship he has with his companions with no aspirations of Kingship or Warden-Commanderhood - rather anything serious or important is thrust upon him.

Here is Chapter 1 of Oddities, to kick things off, entitled "The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning".

***

The Mage stared the Templar down. His arcane honed senses placed an invisible target right between the knight's eyes.

"I know what you're up to, trying to 'cleanse' away the spells I do not need to cast to finish this showdown once and for all."

"Yeah, yeah, 'prentice. Just make your move and prepare to live with the consequences."

With an brief flick of his finger the projectile launched from the table's surface, the folded vellum widget flew high, right between the warrior's oddly posed hands and struck him in the forehead.

"Ow - that stings", the Templar rubbed at the light reddened contact spot.

"HA! Victory is mine, Cullen. That'll be five silvers."

"We agreed on three silvers, Renard. Don't push your luck", he waggled his finger at the scruffy Apprentice Circle Mage.

"Ah ah, you'll gladly cough up the extra two once you discover the hidden message on the vellum."

The older man held quiet for a moment, "What message?"

"Oh it means nothing to me but - maybe, its a token of affection from a certain pointy-eared frost mage."

Cullen squinted, "Liar."

"Okay", Renard replied slipping the little triangle back into the arm of his robe. A strong grip held his arm still.

"Five it is - you cheeky bastard", he said untying his purse from his armor's belt.

"Ouch", he feigned an invisible chest wound. "My parents were married - sure to other people, but still married is married, dammit!"

"Whatever just take the silver and leave me with the missive", the eager Templar jammed the struck coins into his ward's hand and began undoing the sharp folds. "Blast! Why did you do this to it?"

"Hey, she said to get it to you however I saw fit. A bit of game and coin is just as good a delivery system, this way all three of us benefit."

"Monster", Cullen spat as he finished smoothing out the sheet.

"Be that as I am, what exactly does it say?"

The eager man shoved his free hand into Renard's face effectively shutting the younger man up. Between Cullen's fingers, the Apprentice could see the man's lips move as if reading line by line. Apparently the little Elven Mage that had been brought in the same time as Renard had caught the eye of this particular Templar, which brought no end of pleasure to the Apprentice as he taunted them both in his own little ways.

"This - this is gibberish. I want my silvers back", he spoke tersely, removing his hand from Renard's face and smacking the parchment.

"It is not gibberish, it is merely written in Ancient Elven, for she is an Elf. Its a sign of great respect and you see - see that squiggle there, that represents 'lust'."

Cullen paled, "R-really?"

"I'm pretty sure, but you might want to ask Finn. I've seen him cozying up to her when she was writing it out. Although he seemed less focused on the task at hand and more on her robes which clung ever so close to her form. Especially seeing as I 'accidentally' shrunk it during my turn at wash duty - you're quite welcome."

"Finn," the Templar growled rather menacingly as he stomped off to one of the small wings of the library.

Renard was rather pleased with himself, this would be one of the last times he'd call the dormitories home. He wouldn't miss that much what with his last few upper bunkmates were either screamers or bedwetters. To a sleeping Mage The Fade could be such a b**ch.

Yes, soon he'd be sharing an entire room with two other Mages in their own separate beds not hovering over one another, bladders precariously full of water and wine. Or rather he'd be dead at the hands of Cullen or one of the other Templars. Either way he'd be free to wallow in his semi-private room as a full blown Mage or to haunt both friend and enemy as he stalked the halls of The Circle Tower in his spectral form.

He made his way back to the dorms to see what the harpies were prattling about now, usually Astrid and Merris would be tittering about the latest gossip from the Tower or anything they picked up from the Templars that ventured outside of Lake Calenhad.

Tonight it was talk of Templar Rylock and her obsession with Anders. Renard already knew full well Anders loved his freedom, but what it truly came down to was how one cannot truly appreciate their freedom without the constant threat of oppression. Nevertheless some people cannot fathom this so the two gossips theorized Rylock's ultimate fantasy was Anders in nothing but his smallclothes and chains.

Jowan was once again nowhere to be found and as hardly anyone was at their bunk Renard found a random one with fairly new bedding and opted for a nap. The reassuring jingle of his ill-gained silvers brought about the imagery of the bookworm Finn being throttled by a jealous Cullen and it easily put him to sleep.

Here in his dreams, The Fade liked to give him a coin's flip of a chance at a really really good dream or a horrible nightmare. Sometimes the nightmares would disguise themselves as a good dream but usually it was a Desire Demon at play, if not for the unsettling echo when they spoke their sultry words he'd have no trouble succumbing to their charms.

Renard could look past the bony tail, the head protuberances, and flaming hair but it was the masculine timbre at the end of their statements that irked him so.But he was peculiar that way, the slightest bit of 'offness' in a woman and he was turned off.

This time it was indeed a female presence that occupied his dreams, but she was less demon and more desirable. Dark hair and golden eyes framed a pale face with purple eye make-up that was tattooed in place. How he knew it was a tattoo, she was currently bobbing in and out of a small lake in a distant forest only seen in his dreams. The purple coloring did not run down her face as she emerged from the water nor did it smudge as she rubbed the water free from her eyes.

While any other man would focus on her nude body's luscious symmetry it was always her eyes and full lips that stole his focus. She was unlike the women that populated the Circle of Magi, so confident and yet alone in her world amongst the trees and moonlight. The soft crunch of the grass beneath her feet as she padded over to her clothes that were strewn across a pair of bushes was like music to his ears. He knew not the world outside the Tower walls, so she encapsulated everything he wanted of the outside world: beauty and freedom.

Yet what was odd about these dreams was that after several minutes she seemed to notice or at least get a feeling she was being watched and in a brief moment of murmured words and hand gestures she shifted forms into that of a cat or bird before springing off into the night.

It killed him that the dream always had the same girl and forest but never the same situation, and he was never a participant. Never did he dream of speaking to her or interacting in anyway, just that he was a voyeur in his own sleep-addled fantasy.

"OW!", Renard awoke to a sharp pain that came across his face. His stomach sank, it was Cullen looking particularly displeased.

"No refunds."

"Shut up", the Templar bristled, "its time."

"Dinner?" the Apprentice shared a groggy smile.

"It is YOUR TIME."

"Oh, goody", Renard rolled to his side and found himself face to face with the bunks original occupant. It was one of the Tranquil, he believed her to be named Bretta, but didn't like mingling with any of the Tranquil outside of necessary circumstances such as chores or gathering supplies for lessons. He carefully slipped out of bed and the unconscious woman just rolled into the middle of the dent he left in the bedding.

Together Cullen marched the still groggy Renard through the dorm full of sleeping apprentices and Tranquil.

"So, Cullen, is it you who're assigned to slip me ye olde murder knife if things go ****** up?"

"Shh," Cullen shushed and gestured at the sleep rabble about them.

"Meh."

"Stop being a CHILD!"

"Shh," Renard hushed him back, and gestured at the room.

"Ah, c'mon - lets just get this over with", Cullen turned rather somber and opened the dorm's door showing the newest Harrowing participant out into the rest of the tower.

***

End Chapter 1.

Modifié par Esbatty, 20 novembre 2010 - 11:21 .

[Esbatty]

As I didn't really have a place to put this in the In The Land Of Ever thread, since there is no dreaming in the "Mirror World" and this is more of a flashback to a simpler time in Vann's life, I needed a place to put this. Anywyas this is kind of a prequel to the story highlighting the relationship between Vann Cousland and Alistair in the midst of The Blight. This might be a tad important in a future story so for anyone interested... here is "The Boys Are Back In Town".

***

Alistair was both impressed and bewildered that his fellow Warden would actually have the testicular fortitude to not only walk into Capitol of Ferelden, which was currently governed by men who had branded their duo as traitors to the crown, but also that they were going here not on some kind of highly important part of their quest to end the Blight but rather to get a drink.

Yes, this venture into the enemy's domain was specifically for Alistair and Vann to have a night away from all the singing, lectures, belching, and other unsettling behaviour from their non-Grey Warden companions. Which, Alistair was all for, but it was Vann who insisted it be in Denerim.

"Seriously, Vann, we're not gonna get away with this. One of them is bound to sniff this out", Alistair found himself repeating once again as he grinned broadly and gave a little wave at Sergeant Kylon.

"You worry too much, my Sweet Prince."

"Shhhhh, ix-nay on the ince-pray."

In the midst of the dusk-addled market square Vann Cousland dropped to his knees and began bowing before Alistair, "Oh ye of Theirin blood, I humble myself before the Lost Son of Ferelden. Forever may your reign be cherished and remembered in all the hearts of this great land."

"Maker's Breath, okay you've had your fun. Now stop kissing my boots. I'll have you know I stepped in- yeah, thats right keep spitting, mmm, you can just taste the Elfroot. Your Witch has been feeding him again. That hound could never digest that right."

Cousland half choked-half laughed while wiping the spittle and boot-cake from his mouth. The pair wandered about the market area as the merchants and late shoppers made last minute deals and purchases before locking up the stalls for the night.
Now there would be only two places open to the public in this section of the City: The Wonders of Thedas, as the Mage types loved night shopping, and The Gnawed Noble, the only one of which you could get a decent drink.
"We can't go to the Gnawed Noble," Alistair whispered,"they'll probably have someone waiting for us in there, you know like Lothering."

"Hmm, you're right. We wouldn't want another comely Orlesian Chantry Sister possibly wanting one of us to 'lick her lamppost'."

"Ha, and here I thought I was the only bastard in the group."

"Hey, my parents were... oh, I see what happened there."

The Ex-Templar beamed at his quick witted victory over the de facto leader.

"So, since we can't go to the Noble we should - go back to camp?"

"No, no. I promised you a drink and a night away from your dark-haired antagonist. So with that sonuva**** Howe running Denerim there is pretty much just one other place open right now that could give a couple of odd gentlemen a roof overhead and a couple pints in the belly."

"What are you gibbering about, Cous?"

"Al, we're going to - The Pearl."

Alistair's eyes widened a bit and slowly his head started to shake from side to side, "No. No. No,no. NO. Absolutely negatively - No. I can't - I won't - I shan't."

"C'mon! Its just a drink or three. Besides, Sanga loves you. She would not stop talking about how much you looked like King Maric."

"I remember, that was Zev's fault for bringing up the royal look-a-like story in front of her while you were watching Isabela duel those card players. You could practically see the glint of Sovereigns in her eyes."

"Yeah, Isabela sure loves to win."

Alistair snapped his fingers at Vann, "Hey, hey we're talking about Sanga here, you - cad. I don't know how Morrigan puts up with your coveting other women."

"Isabela was before Morrigan and I, had a more - perfect union."

"Ugh, spare me."

"I thought I did put it in rather delicate terms, oh unspoiled one."

"Perfect Union, huh?"

"What of it?"

"So you asked her to...?" the Blonde Warden put his hands together as if in prayer, then pantomimed an overly tongue involved kiss.

"No, not anything like that. But she did gave me a ring, uhh, to track me in case I get kidnapped or separated from the group."

"Or swab another poop-deck. Who knew the harpy could get so possessive?"

"You've no idea."

After awhile Alistair couldn't help but notice the route they were taking while usually bright and teeming with the Citizenry during the day, was rather dark and devoid of both guards and - witnesses.

"Fine, since we're halfway there, and being rather thirsty, I'll stop protesting but could we light a torch or something? Its awful dark."

"And spoooooky, apparently."

"You, ser, are ridiculous and have lowered my opinion of your fellow Nobles."

"Oh but you know you love me, my pretty-pretty prince. Now pretend I am a seductive Elven Mage escaped from the Circle in Antiva and you are the dreamy, blue-eyed Templar who has me at his tender mercies. However shall we shirtlessly pass the time on the long voyage home?"

"Stop imitating Zevran, its eerie how you can even do the accent", Alistair recoiled from Vann's portrayal of their resident Assassin. "You don't act this way in front of everyone else, you know. How exactly did Lel put it?"
"Severe. She said I was very severe."

"She is right you know, its like you shutdown when it comes to handling The Blight. No passion, no joy, you just - do it. 'Werewolves are eating Elf babies, stop them oh Mighty Grey Warden' and then you just practically salute and march off dragging us with you despite how we feel."

Vann scowled, "It's our duty isn't it. We drink the blood, pass out, and wake up defenders of all of Thedas?"

"Well yes but its - we shouldn't lose ourselves to it. We're still human. We're not mindless parts of some mechanism. Its not the entirety of our identity."

"Its not? Because if I remember right, all the people we loved, everyone we cared about who were aware we even existed pretty much got wiped out in a short space of time. Highever, Ostagar, and at Redcliffe Arl Eamon is hanging on by a thread leaving just Teagan and Isolde, and she doesn't even particularly like you."

"Stop it, Cousland."

"Stop what? The truth? Because thats how I see it. And the thing is I try to find some damn levity in all of it, I give it up to Morrigan. I start this relationship with her and I have Wynne jumping down my throat about it. On top of that you goad her into supreme levels of annoyance. Plus I have Leliana bordering on a hair pulling fight, and Morrigan the whole time is bloody flirting with damn the QUNARI!"

"Sten? OUR Sten?"

"Shut up."

"Virgin?"

"I said shut up."

"I knew Leliana was all Me-Ow with Morrigan but, just wow. Really? Sten? I don't see what could possibly be attractive about him other than - well, I mean he is quite large."

"Quiet you."

"She is rather thin so I assume he'd, not that I have any kind experience other than what I've heard from other Templars and Wardens, just I assume he'd not entirely fi-"

"Oh look a large group of drunks outside of The Pearl, I'm gonna go start something so maybe I'll take a blow to the head and hopefully your imagery will go away."

Alistair practically tackled Vann to the ground before his fellow Warden could utter a single fight instigating word.

"No fighting. Drink. We'll drink away the bad. Drink it all away. We'll just be a pair of regular fellows, taking a normal night out to just drink. Sound good?"

"You can let go of me now."

"But you smell of cheese and herbs."

"OFF!"

"Okay, okay", Alistair picked himself off his friend and they both dusted themselves off. "Great now I'm hungry for cheese."

"And I'm hungry for-"

"NO. No women, this is two gents drinking and swappng stories about fighting and farting and such."

"I'll share the fighting stories and you can share the farting ones."

"Its not my fault Morrigan left me wth spoiled supplies the last time you left me behind."

Vann held the door open for Alistair, "You always blame Morrigan. She is not so bad, at least to me."

"Of course she is not going to seem so bad to you, with goo-goo eyes and howling from the tent that echoes all over camp."

"She does not howl."

"I'm talking about you."

"Ah."

"Don't 'ah' me, Vann. I don't know what she is doing to you but you even worry the Dog."

Cousland used his free hand to shove the royal bastard the rest of the way into the brothel. It took several minutes for the Wardens to convince Sanga they were simply there to drink and not to partake of her highly skilled men, women, nor nugs, much to her disappointment.

"I hate you. You know that?" the Senior Warden informed his partner.

"What? Don't be rude. She's our hostess." Vann motioned with his mug at the petite ginger-haired Elf that was currently filling Alistair's tankard with more ale.

"You paid her to sit in my lap as we drink. I clearly said, no women."

"Ah, ah, you meant 'No Women' for me. That was your implication, you were not specific and now you have-" the young Elf slid onto Alistair's lap and offered him the drink, "a fetching beauty to keep us company while we partake of this establishment's most potent of potables."

The girl's legs were draped across his lap and Alistair had difficulty adjusting himself accordingly as while the two Wardens sat and drank, in relative silence, the Elf busied herself by staring at his features and occsssionally breathing propostions into his ear.

"Okay, thats - thats great. Yeah, I'm uncomfortable, right now. Really really-"

"Don't worry, ser, I can make things better for ya", she cut him off, hanging her arms around his neck, lifting one leg up and then straddled the man.

"... need to find an icy river to stand in for a while."

Vann grinned from ear to ear, he could see the amusement Morrigan gained from torturing Alistair from time to time.
"Alright, its been a pleasure having you take great care of us, but now it seems I and my partner here must speak of business. Being night and all you must understand how clandestine the very nature of our business is, and as we'd not want to see a pretty lass like you caught up any intrigues and harm's way we must bid you goodbye."

The girl stuck out her bottom lip while Alistair tried his best to look very grim despite the heavy blush that still warmed his cheeks. With a sigh she unwrapped herself from her guest and before turning to leave planted a quick kiss on the secret prince's lips.

Alistair turned and stared daggers at his friend, "You are a wicked, wicked man."

"You have no idea", Vann smirked.

"So were you serious that we're going to talk business?"

"Well business has been particularly good, so why not?"

"Fine."

"Now, I picked up a rather interesting item from a merchant about a month back. You had to study magic and history during your training, right?"

"Yeah, its part and parcel of the whole Templar thing."

"So you know about the Dwarves and their works?"

"A little bit of everything from Anvils to Ziggurats. Though since they're more enchantment minded, its just surface knowledge. Pun fully intended."

"Always with the funny. Okay, so I was wondering what do you know about... Golems?"

Fin.