577 réponses à ce sujet

[Sisimka]

Nice!

[Herr Uhl]

Zevran won a fight, at last!

Hmm, considering their path, is an encounter with Sten possible?

Sialater wrote...
That's what it's called on the map.

Yup, that is why I added it as a sidenote, weird..

[TanithAeyrs]

Enjoyed the new chapter, keep them coming.

[Sialater]

Herr Uhl wrote...

Zevran won a fight, at last!

Hmm, considering their path, is an encounter with Sten possible?

Sialater wrote...
That's what it's called on the map.

Yup, that is why I added it as a sidenote, weird..

Technically, he won both rounds.

[Kulkodar]

mmmmm bare-chested Zev. Delicious. That was nicely done. Yes, it's obvious Moira is in love with both Alistair and Zev. Goodness what a quandry.

[Sialater]

Oomagh: I liked both characters, I'm going to have to draw a line down the middle of my play throughs with one half getting Al, one half getting Zev.



Capt. Obvious: Glad you're sticking around. I promise I have a point and I'll get to it.



Kulkodar: Well, I couldn't decide, why should she get off easy?

[Sisimka]

Kulkodar wrote...

mmmmm bare-chested Zev. Delicious. That was nicely done. Yes, it's obvious Moira is in love with both Alistair and Zev. Goodness what a quandry.

This is why I'm enjoying this story so much, because I adore both Zevran and Alistair and I can see what a hard decision this would be.

[Sialater]

Part 20



Moira was dreaming. The days without real sleep and her exertions on deck with Zevran finally caught up to her and she fell asleep the minute her head hit the pillow that night. She fell into a nightmare almost immediately.



Alistair slouched against a damp, rough stone wall, his arms outstretched by shackles. The stench of bodily waste, suffering, and refuse permeated the air around him. His once-blue shirt was torn in various places and blood-and-dirt stained. His trousers were in equally rough shape. She managed to look closer and saw from his face he’d been badly beaten, his nose broken, one eye swelled shut, his lips cut. Bruises mottled his body from what she could see in the tears on his shirt. She could feel every wound on him as if she was actually there and linked to him with her healing ability. He tilted his head back as if he knew she was there, “Moira, no. Stay away,” she barely heard him mutter through his cracked and bleeding lips. As she stood frozen in horror, her insubstantial body useless, two mailed guards with wicked-looking blades sheathed on their backs came and unlocked his shackles, hauling him to his feet. Alistair twisted his head around to turn his one good eye toward where she stood. “Get out of here!”



One of the guards shook his head, “Man’s lost it. You think a Grey Warden would be tougher.”



The other guard punched Alistair in the stomach, “Shut it!” He spat at Alistair, “You’re a bleeding disgrace!” Alistair twisted and got his arm free, punching the guard who’d spat on him in the face, causing the man to stagger back, his nose gushing blood. The other guard shoved Alistair hard enough to knock him down and began kicking him. Alistair grabbed the man’s leg and twisted , bringing the man down, flat on his back, his knee wrenched. Moira tried to rush forward to help the man she loved, but before she could get her incorporeal body to obey her, lighting flared out from somewhere in the hall and Alistair screamed in pain, falling to his knees. She screamed, the same agony flaring throughout her body, the pain waking her up. She found herself huddled at the head of the bed, trembling, her throat raw from yelling, Zevran trying to shake her awake. “We have to hurry,” she told him, her eyes wide and terrified. “They’re torturing him.” Maker send it was only a dream, but she knew the truth in her heart, somehow, through the Fade, she’d visited him in his cell.



“Why?” Zevran sat back on his heels. “Even if he would not tell them of . . . Morrigan, he’s one of them.”



“I know. It’s nearly dawn. We should head into the city soon for supplies and some clothes for me as soon as we’re docked,” she scooted past him to get out of bed. “Hopefully, Isabella can be convinced to make this short.”



Several hours later, Moira, Zevran, Perrin and Cullen were standing in the middle of a square outside the dock district, looking for some place that sold clothes. Moira had left her armor behind, but had been prudent enough to wear her mage robes and had her staff, Final Reason, strapped to her back. Cullen and Zevran were in their full armor with their weapons bristling. “Look, no sense in all of us going to one shop. I’ll meet you at that tavern over there in two hours,” Moira said. “You two, go do whatever. See if you can find more injury kits or health poultices.” She handed them one of the bags of coins on her belt. Zevran took it and attached it to his own belt.



Oddly enough, though, it wasn’t Zevran who argued at her going off by herself. “No,” Cullen said. “We stick together, or we don’t go.”



Zevran grabbed the taller man’s arm, “Don’t argue with her. Let’s go.” Looking at Moira, he told her, “Two hours, my Warden, any more and I find you.” He took off through the crowded square, leaving her with her Mabari.



It didn’t take her too long to find someplace to get some clothes. The tailor even had some made that the original purchaser had refused to pay for which were close enough to Moira’s measurements it wouldn’t take more than a few hours to make them fit her. She tipped the tailor a few extra silvers to see the clothes delivered to the Siren’s Call. All she had to do now was wait at that tavern she’d pointed out to Zev and Cullen.



She entered the tavern and allowed her eyes to adjust. It was close to midafternoon, so the common room was fairly empty. It was also a dive. The tables weren’t clean nor cleared, the chairs and stools appeared to be in disrepair and there were puddles of unidentifiable fluids on the floor. Flies buzzed lazily in the heat, and the stench was a potent mixture of spilled ale, sour food and vomit. There were two groups of men at opposite sides of the room, huddled together. Neither group looked reputable, the men all unshaven and apparently unwashed, the women barely dressed and non-too clean either. A lone patron wearing a full cloak, even in the Antivan heat, sat at the bar, nursing a tankard of what Moira presumed was ale. The bartender, a scruffy, grizzled and emaciated man gestured at Moira, “That’ll have to wait outside!”



Startled, Moira looked at the disheveled proprietor, “What?”



“Your dog, it’ll have to wait outside. I don’t serve their kind here. Nasty beasts!” The bartender shouted.



Moira looked around, debating on pressing the issue. She finally decided arguing for her dog was pointless and turned around to leave. They could find her outside. She started to leave, but was stopped when a familiar face entered the tavern. It was on her lips to say his name in greeting, when the burly Crow shook his head, imperceptibly. Ignacio was still bald, still built like a smith, and still scowling. He pushed past her in the doorway, stumbling into her, and she felt him slip something in her pocket. She knew he did that on purpose, she wouldn’t have felt a thing if he hadn’t wanted her to. “Get out of my way,” he slurred, stumbling backwards.



Behind her, someone said, “Is there a problem with this,” the eyes that belonged to one of the slovenly patrons looked her up and down, dismissively, “elf?”



Ignacio sneered, “Who’s go’ problems with elves?” And stumbled away.



The drunk man lurched over to Moira and loomed, Perrin growled menacingly, “An elf an’ her stupid dog. You shouldn’t be here where decent people, decent HARD WORKING people come to get away from your kind.” His Antivan accent made his speech difficult to understand, but she figured out most of what he was saying, given her practice in hearing Zevran speak.



She stepped back, motioning to Perrin to stay. “I didn’t mean any trouble, master…? I’ll be on my way,” She tried to adopt an Antivan accent, her Ferelden speech patterns would stand out like a sore thumb here. It galled her to have to act submissive, but she wasn’t here in an official capacity, and had no desire to attract the notice of the Crows beyond what she’d already experienced with Ignacio. The fool drunkard also apparently couldn’t see her staff or didn’t know what it and the scant robes she was wearing meant. She bowed her head slightly, in mock deference, but more to keep the snarl of anger she was trying to control from being seen. She glanced up in time to see the man pass out at her feet.



Cries of, “Lookit what that elf did!” and “Damned dirty elf, robbing people!” and “Get the knife ear!” filled the filthy tavern. She didn’t want to have to fight a room full of drunks, but if they insisted…. She unlimbered her staff and prepared her to stun them when they all charged. The patron at the bar looked over at Moira during this interesting turn of events, then looked around at the charging drunkards. Flinging off her cloak, Moira was surprised to see Leliana!



The Bard and sometime assassin shouted over the cries of the men, “Looks like another tavern you need rescuing in!” Moira laughed and set off her stun spell.



“You know me! I have to make an entrance!” Moira yelled as Leliana’s presence filled its familiar place in her mind as she wrapped her strength around her fists started using her staff like a club. It wouldn’t do to actually kill any of these men with magic, no matter how much they’d angered her with their prejudice. She punched one of the drunks in the jaw and he went down, unconscious. Leliana hit another over the head with the pommel of her sword. Moira ducked a drunken swing and the man in the stomach then the nose. It didn’t take long for the two women to completely incapacitate the drunken men. Since she never released Perrin from his “stay,” he sat out the fight, head on his paws, watching and whining.



When the last man lay twitching, holding his groin from a particularly vicious kick from Leliana, Moira walked over to the fuming barkeep and tossed him a couple silvers. “Sorry about the mess,” she said. She motioned for Perrin to follow her as she and Leliana stepped out into the sunlight. Moira found it interesting that during the entire fight, Ignacio never stepped in, nor were the guards called.



When they got outside, Leliana turned and hugged her. Hugging her back, Moira asked, “Why are you in Antiva? I’d have thought you were up to your ears in intrigue in Val Royeaux?”



Leliana shook her head while she bent to scratch Perrin’s ears in greeting, “I am still looking for Marjolaine. She’s managed to stay one step ahead of me all this time. Why are you in Anitva? What happened to your handsome prince? Did he turn into a frog?”



Moira’s amusement at seeing her old friend abated, she struggled to keep her expression blank, “Hardly anything so prosaic. But I don’t want to tell you about it in the middle of Antiva City.”



Leliana frowned at her in concern, but was prevented from asking anything further by Zevran’s voice shouting her name. Moira smiled as her two friends hugged one another. Cullen stayed behind Zevran and Moira noted the ex-Templar trying to stay alert for danger in the crowded square. He might actually make a good Warden, yet, she thought.



Leliana finally noticed him, “And who is this?”



Before Moira could answer, Zevran replied, “This is Cullen of Lake Calenhad, late of the Templars.” He wisely didn’t mention the Grey Wardens. Moira approved, since that title would draw more attention than they needed right now. Leliana bowed her head slightly to him, and Zevran continued, “Cullen, this is Leliana, and other than our dear Moira, one of the most dangerous women in Thedas.”



Leliana laughed then looked from Moira to Zevran, “All right, what aren’t you telling me?”



“I’m done shopping, and I think I’ve caused enough problems today. Where are you staying, Leliana?” Moira asked.



“I haven’t gotten rooms yet,” the bard said.



“Then join us on the Siren’s Call,” Zevran told her. Leliana quirked an amused eyebrow at Moira, she knew about Isabella, after all. Moira had told her one night when they shared a watch and too much of Oghren’s ale.



Moira shook her head, remembering the dinner at Highever, “Just don’t ask.”



Leliana laughed as they headed for the ship.

[Herr Uhl]

Sooo, Isabella, Leli, Zev and an ex-templar..



How can there not be sexual content in the next part?



I'm still hoping that Sten will come to kick ass and eat cookies though.

[Sialater]

Herr Uhl wrote...

Sooo, Isabella, Leli, Zev and an ex-templar..

How can there not be sexual content in the next part?

I'm still hoping that Sten will come to kick ass and eat cookies though.

Because Moira's being a good girl.  A very frustrated good girl.

Sten took his sword and went home with the wish that he never meet Moira on the battlefield because she'll hand his ass to him. 

[Herr Uhl]

Moira is a good girl, yes, Cullen and Leli, I don't know about.

:sadface: anyways.

Edit: and yes, I wrote that insinuating that Cullen is a girl

Modifié par Herr Uhl, 05 février 2010 - 03:49 .

[Sialater]

Herr Uhl wrote...

Moira, yes, Cullen and Leli, I don't know about.

:sadface: anyways.

Even if they do, it'll be fade-to-black.  I'm not writing that in detail.

[Herr Uhl]

Not even a ME style sideboob and ass *puppy eyes*



Now I'll go back to eagerly awaiting the next part.

[Sialater]

Herr Uhl wrote...

Not even a ME style sideboob and ass *puppy eyes*

Now I'll go back to eagerly awaiting the next part.

ROTFLMAO, that's a lot of sideboobs.   I don't think Leliana does threesomes with people she just met. 

The next part may not be till Monday.  I've got a galaxy to save and dogs to bathe.

[ReubenLiew]

Yay Leliana!

A little Deus Ex Machina, but well :/

[Sisimka]

Would it be entirely too vacuous of me to simply worry about the state of Alistair's beautiful nose here?



Looking forward to the next chap.

[Sialater]

Sisimka wrote...

Would it be entirely too vacuous of me to simply worry about the state of Alistair's beautiful nose here?

Looking forward to the next chap.

Not entirely.  I'm hoping I can fix it.


Reuben:  It's only a Deus Ex Machina when the character is necessary to rescue the others.  (Besides, that's how Leliana shows up in the game, too.)  Moira could have taken the drunks.  It is, however, a hell of a coincidence.  Maybe.

[amethyst_rose2009]

Sisimka wrote...

Would it be entirely too vacuous of me to simply worry about the state of Alistair's beautiful nose here?

Looking forward to the next chap.

I worry about his beautiful face too, Sisimka.    Poor Ali. 

Modifié par amethyst_rose2009, 05 février 2010 - 09:07 .

[Kulkodar]

Read this at lunch, but can't post at work. So, you leave us hanging all weekend wondering what's in Moira's pocket? Gah! I'm going away from these forums 'til Monday!

[Narise]

Great story. I hope she ends up with Zev.

[Sialater]

Part 21



Leliana leaned on her elbows on the railing of the ship facing the deck. Moira leaned on it facing the docks, watching the late night scurrying as crews returned to their berths and last minute cargo was loaded. Her clothes had arrived without a hitch earlier and they were set to cast off the day after tomorrow. Earlier, she’d surreptitiously handed Zevran the note Ignacio had given her. In plain block lettering, it had said, “Dawn’s First Light at Sunset.” Zevran had turned pale at the cryptic note and disappeared into the cabin they shared. Leliana had merely tilted her head inquiringly at Moira who’d nodded toward the prow of the ship.



The two women stood next to each other, silently regarding their individual vistas. “So, what did you not want to tell me earlier?” Leliana asked.



Moira looked down at her hands, “He’s being held prisoner. By the Grey Wardens at Weisshaupt. “



“Why would they do such a thing? Do you know?”



“I do, but I can’t say. It’s better you don’t know,” Moira refused to look at her friend, afraid she’d spill everything under the gaze of those forgiving blue eyes.



“All right. So what was in your pocket that you handed to Zevran?” Leliana said, her voice reflecting her annoyance at Moira’s secrecy.



“It was a request for a meeting. I can only assume there’s another contract out on me, or maybe Alistair, or Zevran, I really don’t know,” Moira shrugged. The chill of the night was beginning to get to her in the scant mage robes and she shivered. “All I know is that the note Ignacio slipped me is probably leading us into a trap. I could use your help, Leliana.”



“And tomorrow you will have it. But I cannot help you with Alistair,” Leliana said, turning to face Moira.



“Why not?” Moira wasn’t proud of how panicked her voice sounded.



“Because, my friend, Marjolaine has gone to Denerim. You and I both know what kind of business she’s in, Moira. I cannot let her wreak her havoc on Ferelden,” Leliana told her.



“I understand, and you’re right, that’s important, too,” she tried to keep her voice neutral.



Leliana reached over and rubbed Moira’s back, comfortingly, “I know you must be terribly worried about him, my friend. I can only imagine the agony you’re going through.”



Moira turned and leaned against the railing, crossing her arms over her chest, “I keep having nightmares about him.” Of their own volition, her eyes sought out Zevran where he sat on the deck, cleaning and sharpening his blades.



Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Leliana turn her head to follow her friend’s gaze. “And when did that happen?”



Moira turned her head to look at Leliana, “What are you talking about?”



“If you could only see your face when you looked at him; it’s the same way you look at Alistair.”



“It is not,” Moira frowned at her.



Leliana laughed, shrugging, “All right, if you say so. But he watches you in much the same way.” Moira just looked at her, not sure what to say to that. “But, I’d be careful of that young man, Cullen.”



Moira nodded, “We are. Perrin watches him like a hawk, and Zevran tries to make sure I’m never alone with him. I haven’t even begun training him.”



Leliana nodded, “That explains why Zevran is sharing a cabin with you.” The trace of irony in her voice must be Moira’s imagination.



She was glad the darkness hid her blush. “We’re trying to beat it into his skull I’m his commanding officer, not some mage apostate escaped from the tower. I was glad to see him start sleeping with Isabella.”



Leliana tsked, “When he’s out of the presence of our hostess, Moira, you might find he’s a bit worse with the education to match his fantasies. I hope the two of you can deal with him before you find Alistair.”



The Mabari trotted over to Moira, “Me, too,” Moira said scratching Perrin’s ears as he flopped heavily at her feet.



The next morning, Moira woke up in the cabin. She’d originally intended to sleep on deck with Perrin, but Zevran threw a fit at the idea of her being without any sort of guard other than her dog, especially in light of the note Ignacio had slipped her. Another argument she’d lost. So, she and Leliana shared the bed in the cabin with Zevran sleeping on the floor. The Mabari slept in the room, too, but lay blocking the doorway. Moira climbed over the still-sleeping Leliana to find that Zevran had already left the cabin, taking Perrin with him.



“No wonder he’s looking at you like that, if that’s all you sleep in, my friend,” Leliana said, sleepily.



Moira looked down at Alistair’s shirt, “It’s all I have with me. When I packed for this journey, it was going to just be me and Perrin. Don’t really have to care what you sleep in when it’s just your dog.”



Leliana laughed, sitting up, “No doubt. And packing light is more of a priority. I just don’t want to see any of the three of you hurt, Moira.”



Moira scrubbed at her face, ending up running her fingers along her scalp in frustration, “You and me, both.”



Half an hour later, Leliana and Moira emerged from the cabin to the deck, clad in their full armor, their swords strapped to their backs, Spellweaver glistening with ice and crackling with lightning. Zevran and Cullen turned at their approach. “What say we go spring a snare on some Crows, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked by way of greeting.



“What do you have in mind?” Moira looked around at the busy crew. They were stowing cargo in preparation for casting off first thing in the morning.



“I think Perrin should stay here,” the dog growled at him before Zevran continued, “to make sure they are unable to set a trap for us back here, my canine friend,” the elf reassured the Mabari who barked happily in response.



Moira grinned at her dog, “And what we will do?”



“Leliana and I will search the area the meeting in which the meeting will be taking place. I actually do know the area quite well, seeing as I was born there,” Zevran said.



“And Cullen and I?”



“Will be conspicuously waiting, but under our watchful eye, the entire time,” he told Moira, but seemed to be aiming that last phrase at Cullen, who scowled, catching the elf’s meaning.



“Glad to know I’m trusted,” he snarled.



Leliana patted his arm, “You are trusted, my friend. Moira’s just very important to all of us and we don’t want either of you overwhelmed by the Crows.”



Isabella was suddenly standing to one side of the group, “Did I hear you correctly? The Crows? Zevran you promised they’d have nothing to do with you or this ship while we were here.”



“I know I did, my dear Isabella. But somehow they knew we were here anyway,” he spread his hands, trying to placate her.



The captain looked at each face in the small group, “Fine. But we cast off at midnight, then. With or without you. If I have to leave you behind, I’ll send your dog ashore and make sure your belongings make it to Denerim on my next stop. I’d cast off sooner, finding this out, but I’ve got cargo waiting. I do not mess with the Crows.”



Moira nodded, “I suppose that’s reasonable. I won’t ask you to risk your crew coming to the attention of the Crows either. Perrin will be able to find me, no matter what, if that’s what you must do. And if he does appear, we will know that you had to leave.” She looked at her friends. “Pack everything we can carry, just in case.” She turned to Isabella as Zevran and Cullen went below deck to gather everything. “I was going to have to leave that trunk here anyway, Isabella. Could you drop it in Denerim when you can?”



The pirate captain glared, but nodded, then left to shout orders at her crew.



Some time later, near sunset, Moira stood in front of the questionably named house of ill-repute Dawn’s First Light, the skin on her back prickling with the sense of being watched. Cullen stood tensely next to her, glaring at every shadow. He’d kissed Isabella good bye with a strangely reserved passion, despite everyone looking away to give them privacy. Moira hoped they’d make it back to the ship in time to cast off with the pirate, but knew the chances were slim if this went poorly. She had no idea where Zevran and Lelianna had gone. Even opening her healing ability gave her only a vague direction of up, or to the left. The shadows grew as sunset approached, Moira feeling more uncomfortable by the second, and realizing she missed her Mabari’s comforting presence. Cullen took up his place in her mind, too, but made her miss her true shield, Alistair, all that much more.



Ignacio exited the building across from Dawn’s First Light and approached her. Cullen glared at him, his arms crossed menacingly. Moira tried not to slump in relief as she felt Leliana and Zevran approach from the shadows behind her. Ignacio stopped in front of her, “I see you took precautions.”



“Did you really expect me not to?” she asked.



“No, I’ve seen you work. I did not. But we have many things to discuss,” his heavy accent was difficult to understand. “Hopefully, somewhere more private?”



Moira looked around at the nearly empty street. No one was within earshot. “No, I think here is good.”



Ignacio nodded, “As you’ve probably guessed, someone has requested you and your friends have an accident. As we agreed in Denerim, no new contracts have been allowed against the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, but this was against the Chancellor.”



“So, keeping the spirit, if not the letter of our agreement, Ignacio?” Moira said, crossing her arms.



“Few in Antiva know they are one and the same, Warden. However, I am not foolish enough to test the Blight Queller, no matter her title.” The assassin shrugged, “Also, I am thinking, it is good to have a favor owed by one so powerful, yes? I am thinking, I come to you at a later date, and you grant me that favor, yes?”



Moira narrowed her eyes at Ignacio, “If it doesn’t jeopardize my friends, my family, allies, my king and country or myself, I will grant whatever favor you want as long as it’s within my power.”



Ignacio smiled, “There are a lot of conditions on that, Warden, but I accept your terms. I promise my favor will not be so onerous. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to elsewhere.” The assassin stepped backward, still facing her, until he seemed to meld with the shadows.



Before anyone could move, or say anything, however, the four were suddenly surrounded by nearly a dozen black shrouded figures with weapons drawn.

[amethyst_rose2009]

I love it, Sia!  Can't wait to see what happens with Ignacio and those sneaky Crows.

[ReubenLiew]

No, Bad Sia, no more cliffhangers!

*cries*