I think they only want to show what fine weapons they have to the beautiful lady.
Btw, what happened to Jowan?
The Rescue -- Completed 8/1/11
Débuté par
Sialater
, janv. 17 2010 07:16
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#227
Posté 08 février 2010 - 05:12
ReubenLiew
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Herr Uhl wrote...
I think they only want to show what fine weapons they have to the beautiful lady.
Btw, what happened to Jowan?
Only if it's fine, dwarven crafts!
#228
Posté 08 février 2010 - 05:37
MsSouthpaw
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ReubenLiew wrote...
Only if it's fine, dwarven crafts!
I've started avoiding that side of the market, for fear I'll start Gorim pandering his wares to me for the 14th time in as many minutes.
I love your story, Sia. I was looking forward to this installment all weekend!
#229
Posté 08 février 2010 - 05:41
Sialater
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Herr Uhl wrote...
I think they only want to show what fine weapons they have to the beautiful lady.
Btw, what happened to Jowan?
WAFO.
(Wait and find out.)
#230
Posté 08 février 2010 - 05:43
Herr Uhl
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You win this round, *rides off into the night on black steed*
#231
Posté 08 février 2010 - 05:45
Sialater
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What are you talking about? I win all the rounds. All I have to do is give you an action figure.
#232
Posté 08 février 2010 - 05:51
Herr Uhl
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I like to cling onto the illusion of me having pride and honor, but you are right. Damn.
#233
Posté 08 février 2010 - 06:16
Sialater
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Forget cookies, the Dark Side has action figures.
#234
Posté 08 février 2010 - 07:13
AdorableAnarchist
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I don't care about action figures, I want more story! Just got caught up and am on tetherhooks for more....
#235
Guest_Capt. Obvious_*
Posté 08 février 2010 - 11:27
Guest_Capt. Obvious_*
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Frankly, I found the chapter a bit boring. But at least this part was more productive than the previous ones. Hopefully, you can keep at it.
#236
Posté 09 février 2010 - 01:18
Kulkodar
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Capt., if you aren't enjoying the tale, don't read any more of it. 
This chapter left us hanging, a nice way to keep us wondering what will happen. And uh, yeah, I don't care about action figures. Cookies are good, more story is better.
This chapter left us hanging, a nice way to keep us wondering what will happen. And uh, yeah, I don't care about action figures. Cookies are good, more story is better.
#237
Posté 09 février 2010 - 02:07
Sialater
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Part 22
Weapons sprang into hands as the small group was circled, the attackers looking for a weakness in their defenses.
Cullen cursed, “That son of a **** set us up!”
“Ya think?” Moira told him. However, Moira didn’t think it that simple. This ambush was only to cover the meeting. If he’d been serious about betraying her, there were far more subtle and sneaky ways she couldn’t escape even with Zevran and his extreme paranoia. She picked a Crow at random, they all looked alike in their armor, Mind Blasted them all, and leapt to attack. Zevran was there at her side immediately, hamstringing her stunned target. Cullen managed to attract most of the attackers that had resisted Moira’s spell, and Leliana flowed around him, backstabbing and slashing the black clothed assassins.
There was no time to think as the hired killers began to come out of the spell and fight back. Moira ducked a swing at her neck and swung her sword in a feint then brought her dagger in under her opponent’s raised arm and buried it up to the hilt in his heart. Yanking it out, she allowed the motion to flow into a parry of another assassin’s attack, Zevran leaped around behind her and fended off a blade seeking to bury itself in her back. She parried another attack from the Crow in front of her, and Leliana was suddenly there, behind him, her dagger in his throat. The bard yanked it free and kicked out, her leg connecting with one who had just leapt on Moira almost knocking the mage over. In her moment of distraction, however, she faltered in her monitoring of her friends’ health. Leliana didn’t quite duck a dagger strike under her arm, but only managed to get the knife to slice the artery in her arm, not buried in her heart. Zevran took a mean slash across his thigh, opening up the blood vessel there. Cullen was struck by the flat of someone’s blade on the back of his neck, bringing the young man to his knees, she could almost feel his ears ringing from the blow. Panic filled her, but was quickly stifled into anger and she channeled that to her energy, feeling herself fill with power, she reached into the Fade and ripped energy free and flung it at her friends. Instantly, their wounds closed, and Cullen’s head stopped ringing and he lunged to his feet, finishing off the assassin in front of him.
Just as suddenly, they were down to one Crow whose eyes flicked from one to the other of the companions and he turned and sprinted down an alley. Zevran’s and Leliana’s throwing daggers blossomed from his back. Moira wiped the sweat from her eyes. This had been a minor skirmish among many in her life. Why was she shaking?
The Archdemon perched on the tower of Fort Drakon spewing its blue fire at them. Alistair had pulled her close to him, raising his shield to take the brunt of the heat and the flame and the sheer power the thing spewed at them. She felt dark haired swamp witch Morrigan rip the Fade to throw a Curse of Mortality at the thing. Then it was upon them, Moira and Leliana and Alistair hacking at the beast, its foul-smelling, blackened blood pouring over them. Moira could feel Morrigan continue to throw spells at it. Then, before he could dodge, Moira watched in horror as the beast scooped Alistair up in its mouth and shook him like a Mabari with a bone. Her heart in her throat, she threw all her energy into healing him, continuously reknitting his flesh as the monster ripped him open. Leliana and Morrigan finally hit it enough to make it drop him, and Moira was there to help him to his feet and together they rushed the Archdemon again.
It was a long and bloody battle, fighting that thing and its minions. When it finally lay gasping on the ground, Moira’s rage got the better of her and she yanked the heaviest, biggest sword she could find out of a corpse and threw herself down the length of its neck, her anger not content with anything other than slitting that monster open. And then, from across the tower, meeting Alistair’s eyes as he sprinted toward her to stop her, just in case Morrigan’s ritual wouldn’t work, she plunged the sword into the thing’s head. Agony and the weight of ages enveloped her and she screamed her rage at it. Eons and centuries flashed before her eyes, what had been, what was now, what would be. Her father, turning her over to the Templars, Jowan’s long face smiling at her as they played one of their innumerable pranks on Cullen, the betrayal at Ishal, Loghain’s head hitting the floor in the Landsmeet, Alistair’s lips on hers, their bodies entwined. The Darkspawn digging and freeing it, spreading its wings for the first time in centuries, the joy of flight, the song of the sunlight and the song of the taint in both their blood. She felt as if she were searching for something, something to save her, something to keep her there, and then, both of them spotted Morrigan and something called to them, called sweetly and beautifully, a sweet ecstasy of a song.
The explosion knocked Moira free of the dragon’s corpse, sending her sliding across the stone floor of the tower, ripping her away from whatever that was, and she lay there for a time, unable to move, tears rolling down her cheeks. She was barely able to turn her head enough to see Morrigan stand up shakily, her hand on her abdomen.
Zevran was suddenly in front of her, bringing her out of her memories, his hands on her shoulders shaking her. “What?” She twisted out of his grip, “I’m fine. Just give me a minute.” Would she ever stop reliving that battle in one way or another after every fight? She rubbed her temples, a headache forming. “Since I have even less desire to walk through the Imperium than I do Antiva, what say we get back to Siren’s Call, fast?’
“I’m afraid this is where I leave you, though, Moira.” Leliana said, sheathing her sword.
“I understand, my friend,” Moira said, embracing her friend. “Be safe, we will see you as soon as we can.” Zevran hugged the bard good bye, too, and without another word, she’d disappeared into the shadows of an alley.
Moira looked at Cullen and Zevran, “I guess we’d better run if we want to get back to the Siren’s Call before Isabella gets impatient.” They headed back to the ship as quickly as they could.
But it apparently wasn’t fast enough. They arrived at the docks to find the Mabari sitting on the pier waiting for them, his stump of a tail wagging and the Siren’s Call halfway out in the harbor. “Well, there goes your lover, my friend,” Zevran said, slapping Cullen on the back in irritation. “Have I mentioned how much I hate Tevinter?”
Moira sighed, looking up at the moon, rising over the city. “Well, at least it’s a pretty night. Anyone else want to stay in a town full of Crows?”
Both men replied, “No.”
“Then let’s get out of sodding Antiva City.” Moira started walking, hearing the two men follow her.
They left the city quietly near midnight and began heading west. Moira tried very hard not to think about the distance she still had to travel before getting to Alistair. It had been easier not to think about him while stuck on that ship, and distracted by Cullen and Isabella. And Zevran. She wrenched herself back to thinking about the beauty of the night, listening for crickets as the city fell away behind them.
Weapons sprang into hands as the small group was circled, the attackers looking for a weakness in their defenses.
Cullen cursed, “That son of a **** set us up!”
“Ya think?” Moira told him. However, Moira didn’t think it that simple. This ambush was only to cover the meeting. If he’d been serious about betraying her, there were far more subtle and sneaky ways she couldn’t escape even with Zevran and his extreme paranoia. She picked a Crow at random, they all looked alike in their armor, Mind Blasted them all, and leapt to attack. Zevran was there at her side immediately, hamstringing her stunned target. Cullen managed to attract most of the attackers that had resisted Moira’s spell, and Leliana flowed around him, backstabbing and slashing the black clothed assassins.
There was no time to think as the hired killers began to come out of the spell and fight back. Moira ducked a swing at her neck and swung her sword in a feint then brought her dagger in under her opponent’s raised arm and buried it up to the hilt in his heart. Yanking it out, she allowed the motion to flow into a parry of another assassin’s attack, Zevran leaped around behind her and fended off a blade seeking to bury itself in her back. She parried another attack from the Crow in front of her, and Leliana was suddenly there, behind him, her dagger in his throat. The bard yanked it free and kicked out, her leg connecting with one who had just leapt on Moira almost knocking the mage over. In her moment of distraction, however, she faltered in her monitoring of her friends’ health. Leliana didn’t quite duck a dagger strike under her arm, but only managed to get the knife to slice the artery in her arm, not buried in her heart. Zevran took a mean slash across his thigh, opening up the blood vessel there. Cullen was struck by the flat of someone’s blade on the back of his neck, bringing the young man to his knees, she could almost feel his ears ringing from the blow. Panic filled her, but was quickly stifled into anger and she channeled that to her energy, feeling herself fill with power, she reached into the Fade and ripped energy free and flung it at her friends. Instantly, their wounds closed, and Cullen’s head stopped ringing and he lunged to his feet, finishing off the assassin in front of him.
Just as suddenly, they were down to one Crow whose eyes flicked from one to the other of the companions and he turned and sprinted down an alley. Zevran’s and Leliana’s throwing daggers blossomed from his back. Moira wiped the sweat from her eyes. This had been a minor skirmish among many in her life. Why was she shaking?
The Archdemon perched on the tower of Fort Drakon spewing its blue fire at them. Alistair had pulled her close to him, raising his shield to take the brunt of the heat and the flame and the sheer power the thing spewed at them. She felt dark haired swamp witch Morrigan rip the Fade to throw a Curse of Mortality at the thing. Then it was upon them, Moira and Leliana and Alistair hacking at the beast, its foul-smelling, blackened blood pouring over them. Moira could feel Morrigan continue to throw spells at it. Then, before he could dodge, Moira watched in horror as the beast scooped Alistair up in its mouth and shook him like a Mabari with a bone. Her heart in her throat, she threw all her energy into healing him, continuously reknitting his flesh as the monster ripped him open. Leliana and Morrigan finally hit it enough to make it drop him, and Moira was there to help him to his feet and together they rushed the Archdemon again.
It was a long and bloody battle, fighting that thing and its minions. When it finally lay gasping on the ground, Moira’s rage got the better of her and she yanked the heaviest, biggest sword she could find out of a corpse and threw herself down the length of its neck, her anger not content with anything other than slitting that monster open. And then, from across the tower, meeting Alistair’s eyes as he sprinted toward her to stop her, just in case Morrigan’s ritual wouldn’t work, she plunged the sword into the thing’s head. Agony and the weight of ages enveloped her and she screamed her rage at it. Eons and centuries flashed before her eyes, what had been, what was now, what would be. Her father, turning her over to the Templars, Jowan’s long face smiling at her as they played one of their innumerable pranks on Cullen, the betrayal at Ishal, Loghain’s head hitting the floor in the Landsmeet, Alistair’s lips on hers, their bodies entwined. The Darkspawn digging and freeing it, spreading its wings for the first time in centuries, the joy of flight, the song of the sunlight and the song of the taint in both their blood. She felt as if she were searching for something, something to save her, something to keep her there, and then, both of them spotted Morrigan and something called to them, called sweetly and beautifully, a sweet ecstasy of a song.
The explosion knocked Moira free of the dragon’s corpse, sending her sliding across the stone floor of the tower, ripping her away from whatever that was, and she lay there for a time, unable to move, tears rolling down her cheeks. She was barely able to turn her head enough to see Morrigan stand up shakily, her hand on her abdomen.
Zevran was suddenly in front of her, bringing her out of her memories, his hands on her shoulders shaking her. “What?” She twisted out of his grip, “I’m fine. Just give me a minute.” Would she ever stop reliving that battle in one way or another after every fight? She rubbed her temples, a headache forming. “Since I have even less desire to walk through the Imperium than I do Antiva, what say we get back to Siren’s Call, fast?’
“I’m afraid this is where I leave you, though, Moira.” Leliana said, sheathing her sword.
“I understand, my friend,” Moira said, embracing her friend. “Be safe, we will see you as soon as we can.” Zevran hugged the bard good bye, too, and without another word, she’d disappeared into the shadows of an alley.
Moira looked at Cullen and Zevran, “I guess we’d better run if we want to get back to the Siren’s Call before Isabella gets impatient.” They headed back to the ship as quickly as they could.
But it apparently wasn’t fast enough. They arrived at the docks to find the Mabari sitting on the pier waiting for them, his stump of a tail wagging and the Siren’s Call halfway out in the harbor. “Well, there goes your lover, my friend,” Zevran said, slapping Cullen on the back in irritation. “Have I mentioned how much I hate Tevinter?”
Moira sighed, looking up at the moon, rising over the city. “Well, at least it’s a pretty night. Anyone else want to stay in a town full of Crows?”
Both men replied, “No.”
“Then let’s get out of sodding Antiva City.” Moira started walking, hearing the two men follow her.
They left the city quietly near midnight and began heading west. Moira tried very hard not to think about the distance she still had to travel before getting to Alistair. It had been easier not to think about him while stuck on that ship, and distracted by Cullen and Isabella. And Zevran. She wrenched herself back to thinking about the beauty of the night, listening for crickets as the city fell away behind them.
#238
Posté 09 février 2010 - 02:37
amethyst_rose2009
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Sia this is my favorite chapter yet! 
I love the flashback of killing the archdemon and how when she struck the killing blow all of those memories came back to her. That was the best part. I like how it ended too. I think the group sorta wore out their welcome with Isabella, but poor Cullen. It's good that we're getting to see different areas of Thedas since in DA all we got to see was Ferelden. Hopefully in an expansion we will get to see Antiva City or even Orlais.
I love the flashback of killing the archdemon and how when she struck the killing blow all of those memories came back to her. That was the best part. I like how it ended too. I think the group sorta wore out their welcome with Isabella, but poor Cullen. It's good that we're getting to see different areas of Thedas since in DA all we got to see was Ferelden. Hopefully in an expansion we will get to see Antiva City or even Orlais.
Modifié par amethyst_rose2009, 09 février 2010 - 06:17 .
#239
Posté 09 février 2010 - 06:12
Sisimka
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I really liked the flashback too, it's a very powerful moment.
#240
Guest_Capt. Obvious_*
Posté 09 février 2010 - 09:05
Guest_Capt. Obvious_*
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Admittedly, I found this chapter very good. The action and the pacing was great, so it really got to the point. Great job.
#241
Posté 10 février 2010 - 05:41
Kulkodar
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Heh, read this at lunch. Nice flashback, as said. You've again left us on tenterhooks, awaiting the next part 
#242
Posté 10 février 2010 - 01:54
Sialater
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Part 23
Moira called a halt four hours from dawn, and they left the road to set up camp in a stand of trees. Zevran drew short straw and got the midwatch. Moira had last watch and had decided to sleep in the leathers that went under her armor.
She dreamed again, walking the Fade. She wasn’t sure how she was able to find Alistair each time, but again she visited his cell. His head hung forward as if he couldn’t hold it upright anymore, his clothes were even worse for wear. She pushed herself forward to try to touch him, her heart breaking at seeing him chained and beaten, but her fingers wouldn’t touch him, just passed through him.
“You cannot touch him, you know,” Morrigan’s voice behind her made her startle so badly, the vision of her love’s cell wavered for a moment. She turned to see Morrigan standing there, her body as insubstantial as Moira’s. She was wearing a dark-colored, long, hooded robe, as if it were cold where she was.
“What are you doing here, Morrigan?” Moira demanded, jealousy making her tone sharper than it might otherwise have been. Her shrouded form didn’t show signs of pregnancy, Moira deduced she had given birth already; there had been plenty of time.
Morrigan swept the hood back off her face, “I look in on you from time to time. I do miss you, Moira. I even miss that buffoon behind you upon occasion. I would have spared you both this. Why won’t he just tell them what happened?”
“We trust you, Morrigan. Or at least, I trust you. I trust you to do the right thing with his child and not take it over as your mother planned on for you. Neither one of us want to trust that in the next Blight someone less scrupulous than even you gets their hands on a god child, or whatever that baby will turn out to be,” Moira told her.
Morrigan nodded, “I understand your position, then. I do not agree with it, but I understand it. Both of you are always doing the right thing instead of the smart thing,” she smiled to take the sting out of her words, a much more diplomatic action than the Morrigan who’d first met Moira in the swamp would have attempted.
Moira turned slightly to look at Alistair over her shoulder, “What have they done to him? He was conscious the last time I was drawn here.”
Morrigan sighed and moved to crouch down beside Alistair, “I think they’ve trapped him in the Fade. And I doubt he is dreaming of his sister this time.”
“Oh, Maker,” Moira felt light headed. “Can you help him?”
Morrigan made a frustrated noise, “I cannot. And even if I could, I will not risk it. I have an infant to care for, after all. I cannot spend hours trapped in the Fade to save a man who would not believe I was there to help him in the first place.” Morrigan straightened up to look at her friend. “I would grant the same gift to you, you realize, Moira. You gave me so much without asking for anything in return.”
Moira blinked, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”
“A child,” the swamp witch replied. “I know you cannot have one by normal means. At least not by this one,” she nudged Alistair with her insubstantial foot. “But I only know the ritual by which I conceived. I’m afraid I do not know how to make sure you can, I doubt you want a tainted child who will only live to be thirty.”
Moira pinched the bridge of her nose, “Why are you telling me this, Morrigan?”
“I’ve been listening in on the Wardens when I’ve checked in on my child’s father in the past few weeks. One called Fiona is only a Grey Warden in name,” Morrigan looked at Moira and grinned, “It is rather disturbing how much you resemble her, you know.”
“Why?” Moira asked, her eyes automatically going back to Alistair.
“You’ll see,” Morrigan said, cryptically. “I must be going, the child is hungry.”
“How is he? The baby?” Moira asked, still looking at the father of that baby.
“The child is well, Moira. And a good child, as children go.” With that, Morrigan faded from Moira’s sight. The elf mage tried once again to touch the man she loved, but her fingers passed through him. She felt hands on her shoulders, shaking her. A voice called her name.
She opened her eyes to see Zevran’s hazel eyes inches from hers, and realized her cheeks were wet and her lashes spiky with tears. She pushed the other elf away so she could sit up and dry her eyes.
He turned her face toward him, his fingertips gentle on her chin. “Are you all right, my Warden?”
Sniffling, Moira met his eyes, building up the walls that helped her keep the pain of missing Alistair buried inside. “I’m all right, just . . . go to sleep. I need to be alone.” She left the tent, tears still spilling involuntarily from her eyes.
She spent the next three hours on watch, tears streaming freely from her eyes, her Mabari at her feet, trying to comfort her. Three hours past dawn, she managed to get her emotions under control. She was trying very hard not to be angry at Morrigan, after all, the witch’s bargain saved both their lives and let them work to make the country stronger. She hadn’t started working on recruiting new Wardens, however. She hadn’t figured out how she could recruit new brothers and sisters without being completely honest, or she could swallow her morals and recruit as Duncan had done, as the Legion of the Dead do, but that would leave her with a band of criminals instead of the knights in shining armor for which Alistair still hoped. But that was a problem for after Weisshaupt.
The two men woke up and they broke camp and got back into armor to continue heading west toward Tevinter. They ate bread and cheese as they walked, Moira more driven than ever to get through the intervening distance to the king.
She was forced to call a halt for lunch, however. Her head was pounding and the little sleep she’d managed to get hadn’t been restful. Spending time in the Fade was not like sleeping. They stopped some ways off the road in another copse of trees. So far, the land had just been uninteresting plains, dotted with the occasional farms. The trees were sparse and stunted things, but they provided shade from the increasingly merciless sun. As they left behind the temperate coastline however, the nights got colder and the sun, though bright, wasn’t quite as warm. It wasn’t summer, yet.
Moira collapsed on a fallen log, tugging on the neckline of her breast plate. “I can’t decide if it would be easier to carry this stuff or keep wearing it,” she complained.
Cullen shrugged, “It doesn’t weigh that much.” He chewed on a piece of dried meat.
“You’re not using magic to be able to walk in it. By the Maker, I miss Bodahn!” she laughed.
Zevran replied in a perfect parody of Sandal, “Enchantment!” His expression turning serious, he told her, “What we need are horses. It won’t be long before we reach The Hundred Pillars.”
Moira nodded and started to ask about the chances of finding buyable horses, when Cullen asked, “The Hundred Pillars?”
The Antivan nodded, “A mountain range that separates Antiva from the Tevinter Imperium and Nevara. They’re not quite as formidable as your Frostback Mountains in Ferelden, but they are daunting.”
Moira swallowed the cheese in mouth and asked, “Where are we going to find horses?”
Zevran grinned at her, positively predatory, “From the Crows, of course.”
Moira called a halt four hours from dawn, and they left the road to set up camp in a stand of trees. Zevran drew short straw and got the midwatch. Moira had last watch and had decided to sleep in the leathers that went under her armor.
She dreamed again, walking the Fade. She wasn’t sure how she was able to find Alistair each time, but again she visited his cell. His head hung forward as if he couldn’t hold it upright anymore, his clothes were even worse for wear. She pushed herself forward to try to touch him, her heart breaking at seeing him chained and beaten, but her fingers wouldn’t touch him, just passed through him.
“You cannot touch him, you know,” Morrigan’s voice behind her made her startle so badly, the vision of her love’s cell wavered for a moment. She turned to see Morrigan standing there, her body as insubstantial as Moira’s. She was wearing a dark-colored, long, hooded robe, as if it were cold where she was.
“What are you doing here, Morrigan?” Moira demanded, jealousy making her tone sharper than it might otherwise have been. Her shrouded form didn’t show signs of pregnancy, Moira deduced she had given birth already; there had been plenty of time.
Morrigan swept the hood back off her face, “I look in on you from time to time. I do miss you, Moira. I even miss that buffoon behind you upon occasion. I would have spared you both this. Why won’t he just tell them what happened?”
“We trust you, Morrigan. Or at least, I trust you. I trust you to do the right thing with his child and not take it over as your mother planned on for you. Neither one of us want to trust that in the next Blight someone less scrupulous than even you gets their hands on a god child, or whatever that baby will turn out to be,” Moira told her.
Morrigan nodded, “I understand your position, then. I do not agree with it, but I understand it. Both of you are always doing the right thing instead of the smart thing,” she smiled to take the sting out of her words, a much more diplomatic action than the Morrigan who’d first met Moira in the swamp would have attempted.
Moira turned slightly to look at Alistair over her shoulder, “What have they done to him? He was conscious the last time I was drawn here.”
Morrigan sighed and moved to crouch down beside Alistair, “I think they’ve trapped him in the Fade. And I doubt he is dreaming of his sister this time.”
“Oh, Maker,” Moira felt light headed. “Can you help him?”
Morrigan made a frustrated noise, “I cannot. And even if I could, I will not risk it. I have an infant to care for, after all. I cannot spend hours trapped in the Fade to save a man who would not believe I was there to help him in the first place.” Morrigan straightened up to look at her friend. “I would grant the same gift to you, you realize, Moira. You gave me so much without asking for anything in return.”
Moira blinked, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”
“A child,” the swamp witch replied. “I know you cannot have one by normal means. At least not by this one,” she nudged Alistair with her insubstantial foot. “But I only know the ritual by which I conceived. I’m afraid I do not know how to make sure you can, I doubt you want a tainted child who will only live to be thirty.”
Moira pinched the bridge of her nose, “Why are you telling me this, Morrigan?”
“I’ve been listening in on the Wardens when I’ve checked in on my child’s father in the past few weeks. One called Fiona is only a Grey Warden in name,” Morrigan looked at Moira and grinned, “It is rather disturbing how much you resemble her, you know.”
“Why?” Moira asked, her eyes automatically going back to Alistair.
“You’ll see,” Morrigan said, cryptically. “I must be going, the child is hungry.”
“How is he? The baby?” Moira asked, still looking at the father of that baby.
“The child is well, Moira. And a good child, as children go.” With that, Morrigan faded from Moira’s sight. The elf mage tried once again to touch the man she loved, but her fingers passed through him. She felt hands on her shoulders, shaking her. A voice called her name.
She opened her eyes to see Zevran’s hazel eyes inches from hers, and realized her cheeks were wet and her lashes spiky with tears. She pushed the other elf away so she could sit up and dry her eyes.
He turned her face toward him, his fingertips gentle on her chin. “Are you all right, my Warden?”
Sniffling, Moira met his eyes, building up the walls that helped her keep the pain of missing Alistair buried inside. “I’m all right, just . . . go to sleep. I need to be alone.” She left the tent, tears still spilling involuntarily from her eyes.
She spent the next three hours on watch, tears streaming freely from her eyes, her Mabari at her feet, trying to comfort her. Three hours past dawn, she managed to get her emotions under control. She was trying very hard not to be angry at Morrigan, after all, the witch’s bargain saved both their lives and let them work to make the country stronger. She hadn’t started working on recruiting new Wardens, however. She hadn’t figured out how she could recruit new brothers and sisters without being completely honest, or she could swallow her morals and recruit as Duncan had done, as the Legion of the Dead do, but that would leave her with a band of criminals instead of the knights in shining armor for which Alistair still hoped. But that was a problem for after Weisshaupt.
The two men woke up and they broke camp and got back into armor to continue heading west toward Tevinter. They ate bread and cheese as they walked, Moira more driven than ever to get through the intervening distance to the king.
She was forced to call a halt for lunch, however. Her head was pounding and the little sleep she’d managed to get hadn’t been restful. Spending time in the Fade was not like sleeping. They stopped some ways off the road in another copse of trees. So far, the land had just been uninteresting plains, dotted with the occasional farms. The trees were sparse and stunted things, but they provided shade from the increasingly merciless sun. As they left behind the temperate coastline however, the nights got colder and the sun, though bright, wasn’t quite as warm. It wasn’t summer, yet.
Moira collapsed on a fallen log, tugging on the neckline of her breast plate. “I can’t decide if it would be easier to carry this stuff or keep wearing it,” she complained.
Cullen shrugged, “It doesn’t weigh that much.” He chewed on a piece of dried meat.
“You’re not using magic to be able to walk in it. By the Maker, I miss Bodahn!” she laughed.
Zevran replied in a perfect parody of Sandal, “Enchantment!” His expression turning serious, he told her, “What we need are horses. It won’t be long before we reach The Hundred Pillars.”
Moira nodded and started to ask about the chances of finding buyable horses, when Cullen asked, “The Hundred Pillars?”
The Antivan nodded, “A mountain range that separates Antiva from the Tevinter Imperium and Nevara. They’re not quite as formidable as your Frostback Mountains in Ferelden, but they are daunting.”
Moira swallowed the cheese in mouth and asked, “Where are we going to find horses?”
Zevran grinned at her, positively predatory, “From the Crows, of course.”
#243
Posté 10 février 2010 - 02:01
amethyst_rose2009
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I'm glad you added Morrigan to your dream sequence. Aww, and Morrigan's even been keeping a watchful eye on Ali. Poor Ali. 
And our sexy assassin is going to steal some of the Crow's horses, LOL. Priceless.
Can't wait to read what happens in Tevinter with Wynne and Shale.
And our sexy assassin is going to steal some of the Crow's horses, LOL. Priceless.
Can't wait to read what happens in Tevinter with Wynne and Shale.
#244
Posté 10 février 2010 - 02:06
Sisimka
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amethyst_rose2009 wrote...
And our sexy assassin is going to steal some of the Crow's horses, LOL. Priceless.
Me too, on this note.
Ah, poor Al, you're breaking my heart.
#245
Posté 10 février 2010 - 02:35
Herr Uhl
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Oedipus complex strikes again, eh?
But how do they go about putting him in the fade, he's no mage, so a demon would be the easy answer. But then again, do they use demons for interrogation...
But how do they go about putting him in the fade, he's no mage, so a demon would be the easy answer. But then again, do they use demons for interrogation...
#246
Posté 10 février 2010 - 09:17
Sialater
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Herr Uhl wrote...
Oedipus complex strikes again, eh?
But how do they go about putting him in the fade, he's no mage, so a demon would be the easy answer. But then again, do they use demons for interrogation...
Honestly, I had no idea about Fiona when I made Moira. Absolutely none. I just knew both the boys were blonds and I liked the contrast. And I always play an elven or half-elven mage on a first run of any fantasy RPG.
Besides, can it be an Oedipus complex when he doesn't know?
As far as how he got in the Fade, just wait.
#247
Posté 10 février 2010 - 09:20
Herr Uhl
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Sialater wrote...
Besides, can it be an Oedipus complex when he doesn't know?
Oedipus didn't know either
I hate waiting :sadface:
#248
Posté 10 février 2010 - 09:22
Sialater
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Poor Herr Uhl. You'll just have to get used to it. *weg*
#249
Posté 10 février 2010 - 09:41
ReubenLiew
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\\o/
*hates on Sia for more cliffhangers* ><
*hates on Sia for more cliffhangers* ><
#250
Posté 10 février 2010 - 09:48
TanithAeyrs
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I like what you have done with Morrigan. She is more what I pictured she would become after learning about caring and friendship.
