15916 réponses à ce sujet

[Red of Rivia]

Indeed we do, how is Russia?

Sorry about the late response, friend. I'm quite occupied with my works atm. :C

Forget Russia, is the same thing as always >:

[Warden Commander Aeducan]

There is nothing like Nug Stew ( food that Cespar Cadash eats in my fan fiction ). If the Qunari were smart, they would hit Southern Thedas first, since they are weak from the Breach and the Blight. But most importantly, Southern Thedas wouldn't be expecting them like the Imperium would. (Lol yes. I saw what you did there. .)

When I thought people couldn't create new cuisines from a Nug. You never cease to amaze me, Cespar. Eh, do you mind sharing some? I think they wanted to take advantage of weakened southern Thedas, with Orlais still recovering from the civil war and the Breach, Ferelden still licking its wound, Nevarra bound to have a civil war and other nations isn't that strong. Still a unified and cornered southern Thedas may be somewhat powerful, and I personally don't think the Qunari wish to wages two front war at once. Perhaps, they're that bold with Sten as Arishok....good, I'm tired of killing darkspawn anyway.  

[Warden Commander Aeducan]

usual we don't take jobs from the Senate... not enough coin and too easyly discarded

I'll have someone there...the usual package should be delivered to you within a few hours. 

 

Forget Russia, is the same thing as always >:

You mean like cold? Just kidding!

Well, at least you are here now.

 

Sorry about the double post.  

[Cespar]

When I thought people couldn't create new cuisines from a Nug. You never cease to amaze me, Cespar. Eh, do you mind sharing some? I think they wanted to take advantage of weakened southern Thedas, with Orlais still recovering from the civil war and the Breach, Ferelden still licking its wound, Nevarra bound to have a civil war and other nations isn't that strong. Still a unified and cornered southern Thedas may be somewhat powerful, and I personally don't think the Qunari wish to wages two front war at once. Perhaps, they're that bold with Sten as Arishok....good, I'm tired of killing darkspawn anyway.

The kitchen is always a place to try new things.   No!!! I won't share with anyone!!!  Of course, Aedu. I think this was the Qunari plan from the beginning. Sten and his group was send to check out Southern Thedas for the Arishok. They wanted to wait until everyone else was preoccupied. I think the Breach worked out quite well in their favor, which gives them the perfect time to attack.  I don't think it's about boldness, but being smart. 

[Warden Commander Aeducan]

The kitchen is always a place to try new things.   No!!! I won't share with anyone!!!  Of course, Aedu. I think this was the Qunari plan from the beginning. Sten and his group was send to check out Southern Thedas for the Arishok. They wanted to wait until everyone else was preoccupied. I think the Breach worked out quite well in their favor, which gives them the perfect time to attack.  I don't think it's about boldness, but being smart. 

Well, beside that it's a good place to create explosive or get blown up as well if you don't know what you're doing. Ah, thank you for being generous, Cespar. They definitely think about invade Thedas again, and they have been waiting for a perfect opportunity as predicted. I believe it's smart to take an advantage of this situation, but I still don't think it's that smart to start a two-front war, especially when they fail to conquer Seheron completely because of frequent skirmish with Tevinter, Tevinter spy stir up chaos, local resistant. As far as I know the Imperium may not be strong as it once was, but it's still one of the most powerful nation in Thedas. Heh, suddenly I feel like having Gaspard on Orlais's throne are more meaningful if the Qunari's going to invade soon, and if it were up to me the Inquisition will defend southern Thedas from Qunari's threat before I disband this organization. 

[Cespar]

Well, beside that it's a good place to create explosive or get blown up as well if you don't know what you're doing. Ah, thank you for being generous, Cespar. They definitely think about invade Thedas again, and they have been waiting for a perfect opportunity as predicted. I believe it's smart to take an advantage of this situation, but I still don't think it's that smart to start a two-front war, especially when they fail to conquer Seheron completely because of frequent skirmish with Tevinter, Tevinter spy stir up chaos, local resistant. As far as I know the Imperium may not be strong as it once was, but it's still one of the most powerful nation in Thedas. Heh, suddenly I feel like having Gaspard on Orlais's throne are more meaningful if the Qunari's going to invade soon, and if it were up to me the Inquisition will defend southern Thedas from Qunari's threat before I disband this organization. 

That's the fun part about being in the kitchen. Boom! It can end just as quickly as it had begun. Well... I've to take a break from all the torturing and kitty snatching every now and then. For every 10 evil deeds I do, I must do one nice thing.   That's why they'll need to find another way to Southern Thedas without trying to start something with the Imperium. If they take over Southern Thedas first, then they can take the war to the Imperium. I'm pretty sure that they'll have learned from their mistakes by now. 

 

Everything has a weak spot, even the Imperium. But I know they won't go down without a fight. With Gaspard and Alistair pushing aside their petty differences, the Qunari will have a lot to deal with, especially with the Inquisition involved. I don't want to disband the Inquisition, so I hope it won't be forced.  

[Warden Commander Aeducan]

That's the fun part about being in the kitchen. Boom! It can end just as quickly as it had begun. Well... I've to take a break from all the torturing and kitty snatching every now and then. For every 10 evil deeds I do, I must do one nice thing.   That's why they'll need to find another way to Southern Thedas without trying to start something with the Imperium. If they take over Southern Thedas first, then they can take the war to the Imperium. I'm pretty sure that they'll have learned from their mistakes by now. 

 

Everything has a weak spot, even the Imperium. But I know they won't go down without a fight. With Gaspard and Alistair pushing aside their petty differences, the Qunari will have a lot to deal with, especially with the Inquisition involved. I don't want to disband the Inquisition, so I hope it won't be forced.  

Well, the not so fun part is when you have to clean it all, especially after the mess you'd just create. Joking aside, I enjoy being in the kitchen and cooking. I'd really want some Nug stew now that you mentioned it though. It's fun to do something different once in a while, and speaking of evil deeds, do you have something in mind, Cespar? I'm not an expert on Thedas's geographic, but I assume they'll have to land on Rivain or Free Marches if they wish to avert the full scale war with Tevinter, but even so they might have to go through the Imperium's fleet, southern nations fleet, pirates. Maybe, they've learned, but so does Tevinter which make things even more interesting. I'd like to see how they manage to invade southern Thedas without going through Tevinter, but I suppose we'll see in the next DLC if that survey rumor is true. I get the feeling we don't actually deal with the entire invasion force, but only a portion of it. Maybe, it's a taste of things to come in DA4.

 

Well, the Tevinter Imperium and most nations in southern Thedas definitely won't go down without a good fight. I'd like to see those Oxmen trying to break in Minrathous. You are looking at a heart of the Imperium, and a city that no one manages to conquer or sack it before. I'm pretty sure the Qunari will have a hard time with most player's world states, heh, as long as BioWare doesn't retcon our decision. As much as my Inquisitor wish to step down, I don't want to disband it now especially when Qunari threatening Thedas. 

[Uccio]

Imperium is not going down my dwarven friends. We are more than capable of containing this "threat" these oxmen pose.

And we will do this while enjoying some roasted nugs on the side.

Spoiler

*Hot summer sun scorched from the zenith of the clear sky. Caius walked slowly down the marble stairs of the Senate Nazlik in tow. Her armor glimmered in the sun dazzling anyone watching her too long. A stark contrast to Caius pitch black robes. His guards and elaborate carriage stood waiting by the dragon statues guarding the steps. "Your father-in-law, that was horrible", Nazlik whispered to Caius. "His whole family and household dead, that abomination killed everyone. Good thing your troops were stationed in the barracks next to his manor and were able to stop him in time". Nazlik shivered thinking about it.

"Indeed, despite all this pain and suffering there is a silver lining on this cloud", Caius said calmly. "As a closest living relative, through marriage, I will claim possession of the house Florus. Or what is left of it, and all it´s possessions. They will be merged in the house Vaellanius, and their seat in Magisterium". A cold smile lingered on his lips.
Nazlik hesitated for a moment, "do they tempt you, demons I mean?". This was something she had not thought of much. Caius was a mage and demons prayed on them. Even the thought of him becoming a abomination filled her with painful sorrow. She would lose the love of her life, father of her child and would have to even fight him. For the sake of their child she would have to kill him, or try to.

"Demons are no match for me" Caius said confidently. "Sometimes they do try, that is true. I hear whispers in my dreams but it is easy to dismiss them. And for willpower, none of them can stand up to me".
"Good", Nazlik sighted relieved. The emotional rush made her momentarily to forget where they were, and she reached for Caius gently touching him getting some glances from the people passing by. "Please my love, not here" Caius whispered without turning.

Back in the Vaellanius manor that afternoon.
Caius stood in the training room watching from the sidelines while Nazlik whirled gracefully around the room practicing. Strike, dodge, parry, she went through the training moves like a dancer. Nazlik bounced in the air landing by the obstacle and rolled fluently over it giving a dummy a roundhouse kick. The enchantments made her move incredible fast and her strong kick almost tore the dummy off from it´s fastening.

"You are still unstoppable my love" Caius smirked. Her movement was strangely enticing, even it was meant for combat. Nazlik came across the room making cartwheels, bounced high in the air and landed before Caius crouched one leg outstretched to the side one hand behind her back holding her sabre, gazing at him breathing heavily with her chest heaving. A lock of her long white hair covered partially her silver eyes as her braid had been partially opened by the fast moves. So enticing.

"Amatus" Caius whispered gently. He reached out and touched her sweaty cheek. Nazlik rose up without a word grabbing Caius giving him a passionate kiss. "I see you have not lost your fire" Caius whispered looking into her silvery eyes. She smiled softly at that, "never my love". A sudden knock on the door interrupted their moment. Nazlik turned around heading for the water bottle for a drink.

"Come in" Caius turned to the door. Cassia walked in by the guards. "Why do I need permission to see my father?" she asked annoyed. Cassia, the second daughter of Caius, was a tall brunette with a hint of red in her hair. She didn´t look much like either of her parents but had a resemblance of Caius' grandmother. Even the red in her hair was like in the old picture hanging on the wall. A spirit mage and a strong conservative.

"Well, the recent deaths in the family required me to protect myself even more", Caius said. "But it is good to see you Cass". "Don´t call me that father, I am not a little girl anymore", she said walking to him. "You will always be a little girl to me daughter" Caius smiled shortly. "Did you hear what happened to grandfather?" she asked disregarding his comment. "Mother´s side of the family is all but dead now".
"I know, and it was good to have you here now" Caius said calmly. "There is something I want to tell you. It is not official yet but I might as well tell you now".
"What is is father?" She gazed at him interested. "I have decided to give you the Magisterium seat of your grandfather". "What?" she asked shocked, "me? What about Zera?".

Caius took her arms in his, "Zera will inherit my seat in time. So she will have her seat. And as much as I love all of you my daughters I don´t look forward fighting her with every vote in the Senate. That is why I will leave that to you".
"Well she won´t be getting her seat in a long time then" Cassia said contemplating. "I accept father", a bright smile appeared on her face. Caius hugged her, "good. Don´t tell anyone yet. I will announce it in time". Cassia gave him a kiss on the cheek and ran out of the room thrilled, something that had not happened since she was a little girl.

Nazlik wrapped her arms around Caius from behind whispering in his ear, "I hope Zera will not get mad about this". "No" Caius said firmly, "I have told her long ago how this will go. She has no reason to be resentful". Nazlik bit his ear softly. "What about our son?".
Caius turned around smiling wrapping his arms around her waist, "for him I have something bigger planned. Much bigger".*

[raging_monkey]

It never ceases to to amaze me how you eat it nugs...

[Serelir]

No nugflesh for me! Who could eat those cute little nugs with their big floppy ears anyway? Now cheese is a whole 'nother matter. If you want to talk about cheese, I'm in.

 

For Uccio, posting the most recent chapters here (and sorry it's taking sooooo long to get out of Orlais - got to set up the backstory!):

 

North of Lydes

 

Spoiler

Three days’ riding brought them to the gates of Rochambeau. They’d had to detour around Lydes. Strangely, they’d encountered no troops at all headed to Montpellier. At one point, they’d narrowly avoided a troop of Templars by dashing off into the woods at the last minute. But the Templars had been traveling away from Montpellier, which was peculiar. They’d slept rough in the hedgerows to avoid leaving a trail, and Elowyn’s legs felt like jelly. As much as she loved horses, she didn’t get to ride as often as she’d like. Guy had had to pull a few strings in order to even give her some riding lessons. It was one of the many small mercies he’d shown her during her time in the Tower.

 

Guy greeted the guard who stepped out of the gatehouse, “Hello, Joubert!”

 

The guard peered at them. “Why, it’s Master Guy! Welcome back, Ser! Let me get these gates open.” The guard eyed Elowyn, who wore a hood to hide her ears. Guy simply nodded and trotted his horse through the gates, and Elowyn followed with a slight smile at the guard.

 

She looked at the long drive that wound up a hill ahead of them. “So… where’s the house?” she asked.

 

“Believe me, you can’t miss it!” Guy said, “It’s just beyond this little hill.”

 

Elowyn would have begged to differ at the description of the “little” hill, but as she crested its top and the house came into view, it quite literally took the words from her mouth.

 

“Maker’s Breath!” she exclaimed, “I had no idea!”

 

“That the Bessays were so conspicuously rich?” Guy offered.

 

“Well, I knew you came from a noble family, but I never thought… Why did you join the Templars again?”

 

“It’s a long story,” Guy said abruptly, urging his horse forward. Elowyn knew that Guy was an eldest son, an exception to the general rule that the Order was full of second sons and noble bastards, those who weren’t set to inherit their parents’ titles and fortunes. Guy’s mother had died when he was a child, and his father had re-married to a much younger lady from an even loftier family. Guy had once mentioned a half-brother.

 

Elowyn mused on the memory of her first meeting with Guy at the Tower. He’d been so handsome and kind, but even more than that, she’d fallen in love with his gentle ways and soft voice, so unlike the other Templars. He was genuinely interested in his charges and treated them respectfully. Most of the other Templars were wary at best, and at worst, treated all the mages as potential criminals just waiting to unleash demons and wreak havoc on the world. She’d overheard a Templar mutter that Thedas would be a safer place if all mages were made Tranquil, and his friend had replied, “Then we’d be out of a job.”

 

As a teenager, Elowyn had finally confessed her feelings to Guy, which led to The Conversation. She always capitalized it in her mind, the day he’d crushed her girlish dreams. It was tough spending a childhood locked away from the world, even for children who weren’t abused by their supposed protectors. Young mages had little contact with the outside world. Consequently, a hothouse atmosphere could develop within the Circles, resulting in illicit liaisons among the mages and between mages and Templars, and all sorts of petty drama and intrigue occurred.

 

Elowyn had fallen madly in love with dashing Guy, the gentlemanly Templar, who had firmly told her that a relationship wasn’t possible. “Because it’s against the rules?” she’d asked. “Surely it’s common for people to bend the rules a little!”

 

“It’s not that,” Guy said reluctantly. He seemed uncomfortable. He wasn’t reacting the way she’d expected at all. She’d thought… oh, the thoughts she’d had! The daydreams about herself and Guy, the perfect little Templar-Mage couple, just like in the ballads. What a fool she’d been.

 

She banished those unhappy thoughts as they drew close to the doors of what could only be described as a palace. The Bessay family home was built in what Elowyn knew from books was a typical Orlesian style: white stucco walls surmounted by a blue tiled roof, encrusted by balconies with ornate copper railings and whimsical turrets. In short, it was the most fantastic building Elowyn had ever seen, even in the Fade. She’d spent her formative years in Montpellier’s alienage, a slum full of city elves packed six families to a building. Her aunt and uncle had been lucky to have an apartment to themselves, albeit a small one.

 

“You could fit three alienages in this house!” she exclaimed, then bit her tongue ruefully. A groomsman scurried toward them from around the side of the building, ducking his head in obeisance. He helped them dismount, then whisked the horses away to an unseen stable. Guy and Elowyn were left standing on the gravel drive, dwarfed by the enormous mansion. The front door, which Elowyn reckoned was large enough to admit a column of soldiers or even a dragon, swung open to reveal a butler dressed in the Bessay livery: Sable, four diamants in bend argent.

 

“Welcome home, monsieur,” said the butler to Guy.

 

“Thank you, Chapuy, it’s good to see you again,” replied Guy politely. The butler glanced over Elowyn and decided to ignore her as she followed Guy into the hall. The butler helped Guy remove his riding cloak, then turned to take Elowyn’s, studiously ignoring the pointed ears revealed by the doffing of her hood. She overheard the butler murmur to Guy, “Will your servant be needing a room belowstairs?”

 

“She’s a guest,” corrected Guy, “Is the blue room available?”

 

“Yes, Monsieur, I’ll have Laurent show her the way.” The butler gestured, and a footman came to life from his statuesque position against the wall. “This way, Ser,” he said, and led her toward a gigantic staircase that cascaded down three storeys like a waterfall.

 

***

While Elowyn took a luxurious bath and pondered whether the fresh clothing left out for her had been willingly donated by one of the servants, Guy sought an audience with his parents. His father paced before the fireplace in the west drawing room.

 

“It’s inconceivable that you’ve deserted your post! To save an elf, of all things!”

 

His stepmother chimed in, “Yes, let’s discuss this woman. What sort of hold does she have over you?”

 

Before Guy could answer, his father interrupted, “You’ve brought this creature into our own home! How could you put your own family in harm’s way? A mage! You know how servants talk. I won’t be able to show my face in Val Royaux!”

 

Guy attempted to cut through his father’s diatribe, “Father, the Circles have fallen everywhere. Both Templars and mages have fled. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s also a civil war on our doorstep. How much did you have to pay to keep the armies from sacking our lands?”

 

His father waved away the question, “That’s all part of the Grand Game. What concerns me is that you’ve not only broken your vows, but you’ve brought an apostate into our home. You’ve made us criminals by association. How could you do this to us?”

 

Guy sighed. He always hoped that his father would stand up for him, and was always disappointed. His stepmother Eugenie unexpectedly came to his rescue.

 

“Edouard, despite these unpleasant circumstances, it is pleasant to see Monsieur Guy, non? Let us put aside these difficulties for the moment so that we can plan the best move. There is always a way to turn what appears to be a disaster to our advantage.”

 

No words were more truly said, thought Guy, especially by my stepmother. Eugenie came from a powerful family, the Penthièvres. Every aspect of her life had been training for the Grand Game, and she was a Master Player.

 

“What did you have in mind?” asked Edouard. Eugenie’s smile chilled Guy’s heart.

 

 

Rochambeau

 

Spoiler

 

Elowyn felt nervous about meeting Guy’s family at dinner that evening. As she was attempting to arrange her hair, Guy’s stepmother appeared at the bedroom doorway.

 

“Hello, Elowyn. I thought we could have a little chat before dinner,” she said with a friendly smile.

 

“Please, come in. I was just getting ready. Things have been a bit hectic lately, and my hair isn’t happy about it,” Elowyn attempted a joke.

 

“It’s good to see you both safe and well, considering the circumstances. Is everything to your liking?” asked the marquise.

 

“You have a lovely home! I’m very grateful to you and the Marquis for your hospitality.”

 

“I suppose Guy didn’t tell you much about Rochambeau. He’s a man of few words.”

 

“He’s very humble,” replied Elowyn.

 

“Yes, it’s commendable. Have you met Roget yet?”

 

“No, your Grace. I haven’t had the pleasure.”

 

“Well, you’ll see him at dinner. I wanted to ask you about your plans.”

 

Elowyn hesitated at this. She hadn’t thought much beyond gaining the safety of Guy’s house, though she knew it wouldn't be possible to stay. “I’m afraid I’m not sure, your Grace. The Circles are no longer a sanctuary for mages,” she replied with some irony.

 

“No, it seems the situation has changed. I suppose your family’s home would be an unsuitable place for one such as yourself?”

 

“Yes – I mean, no, it’s been years since I lived at home, and well, it would be difficult for them.”

 

“Let’s see what you think of this idea: I have a friend in Tevinter –“

 

“Tevinter! I’m sure you’ve noticed, your Grace, but I’m an elf.”

 

Eugenie smiled and said, “Of course. Now, as I was saying, I have a dear friend in Tevinter, a Magister in fact, and she is in need of a research assistant. I gathered from Guy that your interests lie in that direction? Research?”

 

“Oh, yes, ma’am – I mean, your Grace! I’ve spent years studying arcane knowledge, the history of magic, the Fade, the natural world, and how all of it intersects!” Elowyn had a little trouble keeping the excitement about her favorite subjects out of her voice.

 

“You would be a perfect fit for dear Aurelie’s salon then,“ beamed Eugenie. “In addition, it would get you safely away from Orlais. Guy could accompany you.”

 

“Wouldn’t my race be a problem though? Tevinter isn’t exactly friendly to elves.”

 

“A minor issue. Now, shall we go to dinner?”

 

***

 

Elowyn felt dwarfed by the size of the dining table. Well, not dwarfed, exactly, but she felt like a doll in a dollhouse. Places had been arranged at one end, so she was at least spared the indignity of trying to shout down to the other end of the table. The Marquis and Marquise, Guy and Elowyn had taken their seats when a young man strolled in. ‘This must be Roget,’ thought Elowyn, ‘he looks just like his mother.’ Roget took the seat across from her and gave her a long, appraising look. Eugenie made the introductions, but Roget just snorted and unfurled his napkin. Guy gave her the tiniest eye roll and shook his head slightly.

 

Roget appeared to be about fifteen and was fair where Guy was dark, though Guy had his own mother’s clear blue eyes. Roget and his mother were both brown-eyed blonds, and Guy’s father had rather understated good looks. Unlike most Orlesian nobles, he wasn’t flashy in his dress or speech. If Elowyn hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was Fereldan.

 

Elowyn wasn’t entirely sure what she’d been served. There was a little something bathed in sauce with some sort of vegetable cut in a fancy floral shape on top. She eyed her silverware dubiously and chose the fork furthest to the left. Food in the Circle hadn’t been exactly gruel, but it had been plain fare. At the very moment she’d placed a forkful in her mouth, Eugenie asked her a question about her family. She swallowed as quickly as she could.

 

“My father was an artist, but he’s gone to the Maker. I was mostly raised by my aunt and uncle until I went to the Circle.”

 

“So you’re not Dalish then?”

 

“Ah, it’s a bit complicated. My father and his cousin were Dalish elves. My uncle married my mother’s sister, so that’s why he’s my uncle. He and my aunt make tapestries.”

 

“And your mother?”

 

“She came from a family of merchants, though they fell on hard times,” Elowyn carefully avoided mentioning that their business had been appropriated by shemlens. “Her father was a musician, quite famous, actually. He even played at the Ducal palace.”

 

“Impressive! And do you have any siblings?”

 

“Yes, I have a brother, but he’s gone to work for a consortium of surface dwarves. He’s almost like a dwarf himself! I mean, not that he looks like a dwarf, but he’s very handy,” she added awkwardly.

 

Roget belched loudly and threw down his fork. “Dwarves and elves!” he exclaimed. “What’s next, the bloody Qunari?”

 

The Marquis shot him a meaningful look, while the Marquise smiled sweetly and ignored his rudeness. “He sounds very talented! The dwarves don’t often work with outsiders.”

 

“He is! I wish I were half so capable with tools and machines. The dwarves love him. He’s like their resident wizard.”

 

Guy coughed loudly into his napkin, and Elowyn felt her cheeks flush. She attempted to recover the conversation, “And how is your family, your Grace? I hope they are well?”

 

“Very well! My dear brother Laurent has been working on behalf of our Empress and has enjoyed great success routing the troops of that villain, Gaspard.”

 

“He must be very brave,” said Elowyn.

 

“Indeed, but more than that, he is cunning.”

 

“They call him ‘The Golden Fox,’” added Guy.

 

“You never told me about your illustrious relatives, Guy!” Elowyn teased.

 

“Guy is too modest,” said Eugenie. “Did he tell you that Edouard’s sister will be attending the Conclave?”

 

“You aunt is in the Chantry?” Elowyn asked.

 

“Aunt Mignonette is the Revered Mother of the Chantry in Blaise, though she goes by ‘Mother Ermentrude’ now.”

 

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Elowyn. “I mean, what an accomplishment!” she added quickly.

 

“They’re going to decide the fate of all you bugzappers and demon taunters,” said Roget, “and the tin-can Templars, too,” he added contemptuously.

 

“Long overdue,” cut in Guy’s father smoothly. “They should have taken steps after that disaster at Kinloch Hold, not to mention Kirkwall!”

 

“I rather admire this new Divine,” said the Marquise. “People underestimate her.”

 

“She’s too young for the job,” scoffed the Marquis. “She’ll never keep control of that lot. What’s the word among the Templars, eh, Guy?”

 

Guy cleared his throat. “She has noble goals, but the majority of the Templars have nothing but contempt for the Chantry at this point. It hasn’t backed them up during these crises with the Circles, and there’s been talk of separating from the Chantry.”

 

“How would that affect the Circles?” asked Eugenie.

 

“What’s left of the Circles, you mean,” corrected Guy. “For now, the Templars at the few Loyalist Circles have remained, but I suppose in future, the mages might contract directly with the Templars rather than have both under the umbrella of the Chantry. We’ll just have to see what happens at this Conclave.”

 

Dinner concluded with a bit of small talk and a delicious, unidentifiable pudding. After Elowyn had taken leave of Guy’s parents, he asked her to take a stroll with him in the garden.

 

“Your stepmother is so charming!” exclaimed Elowyn. “From the way you’ve described her, I was expecting a monster.”

 

“Don’t be fooled by her charm,” retorted Guy. “She’s evil. She’s a snake! Though that would be an insult to snakes.”

 

Elowyn scoffed. “She’s treated me with nothing but graciousness. She even found a position for me!”

 

Guy stopped and stared at her. “Please don’t take it!”

 

“Why? Do you know something she didn’t tell me? She said it was with a friend of hers, a Magister named Aurelie something, in Tevinter. She even said you could accompany me there.”

 

Guy groaned and put his hand to his forehead. “You, too, eh? Our Tevinter exile.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“She needed to get rid of me, of course. Two nugs with one stone.”

 

“Listen, there’s something I don’t understand: you’re the eldest son, right? So how did you end up with the Templars? You’ve never told me.”

 

“You’ve heard of her family, right? The Penthièvres? The Golden Fox, Roget Strongbow and all that? How did my father marry into a family like that, you may ask. The Bessays are very wealthy, it’s true. They have the silverite mines. But what they didn’t have was a connection to the imperial family, and without that, you’re no one. After my mother died, my father’s relatives decided they had an opportunity to make that final leap up the grand staircase. The title comes from Eugenie’s family, not my father’s. His wealth and strategically-placed landholdings, her title and influence. Voilà! A dynasty is born – with Roget, not me. I was in the way, an inconvenience. Sending me to the Templars not only took care of that little problem, but it gave Eugenie another pawn in the Grand Game.”

 

“I wondered why Hervé didn’t transfer you after you spoke up for the mages.”

 

“Exactly – he couldn’t risk angering my stepmother’s family. So he was stuck with me.”

 

“For which I must thank your stepmother. Guy, I wouldn’t have survived that place without you.”

 

Guy put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “I’m glad I was there. I wish I could have done more.”

 

“So Roget inherits everything then? Because Templars give all that up, don’t they?”

 

“Yes, Rochambeau, the mines, the land, the title – those are all his, and he’s welcome to them.”

 

“But Guy, think what good you could do with all that! It’s a shame. Roget doesn’t seem like the nicest person.”

 

“He’s not. Nice doesn’t get you far in Orlais. He has all the skills he’ll need to survive the Game. I’m relieved to be out of it, if you want the truth.”

 

“So, we’re off to Tevinter then?”

 

“Are you looking at this as an adventure? Because I think you’re – how do I put this? – underestimating just how poorly elves are treated there,” said Guy gloomily.

 

“Guy, I’ve spent my life in what could be referred to as a Gilded Cage, a cage full of people who hate and fear me. What could be worse than that?”

 

“You have a point there, but at least you weren’t a slave.”

 

“A slave? As if being held in a tower until the Chantry needed me to fight darkspawn wasn’t slavery? Guy, I know that, despite what appears to be a load of privilege the size of a dreadnought, your life hasn’t been without hardship, but you weren’t forced to join the Order, and you could have left anytime. I didn’t have those choices.”

 

“Forced? Perhaps I wasn’t punched in the head and taken to the Tower, but what kind of choice does a boy have when his parents tell him he’s being sent away to the Templars? As for my decision to leave, I’m running low on lyrium. The Chantry’s shackles are colored blue.”

 

“Oh, Guy, I’m sorry. I was so caught up in my anger. I always thought you wanted to be a Templar. Some of them seemed to enjoy their work.”

 

“As did some of the mages – they enjoyed the security of the Tower.”

 

“And knowing that a Templar would be there to chop off their heads if necessary!”

 

“There’s some joy in certainty, isn’t there?” Guy snorted cynically.

 

“Here’s to an uncertain future!” she declared, taking his arm.

[raging_monkey]

I don't mind I love prologues

[Cespar]

Well, the not so fun part is when you have to clean it all, especially after the mess you'd just create. Joking aside, I enjoy being in the kitchen and cooking. I'd really want some Nug stew now that you mentioned it though. It's fun to do something different once in a while, and speaking of evil deeds, do you have something in mind, Cespar? I'm not an expert on Thedas's geographic, but I assume they'll have to land on Rivain or Free Marches if they wish to avert the full scale war with Tevinter, but even so they might have to go through the Imperium's fleet, southern nations fleet, pirates. Maybe, they've learned, but so does Tevinter which make things even more interesting. I'd like to see how they manage to invade southern Thedas without going through Tevinter, but I suppose we'll see in the next DLC if that survey rumor is true. I get the feeling we don't actually deal with the entire invasion force, but only a portion of it. Maybe, it's a taste of things to come in DA4.

 

Well, the Tevinter Imperium and most nations in southern Thedas definitely won't go down without a good fight. I'd like to see those Oxmen trying to break in Minrathous. You are looking at a heart of the Imperium, and a city that no one manages to conquer or sack it before. I'm pretty sure the Qunari will have a hard time with most player's world states, heh, as long as BioWare doesn't retcon our decision. As much as my Inquisitor wish to step down, I don't want to disband it now especially when Qunari threatening Thedas. 

Ugh, don't even remind me about the cleaning up part. I love going crazy in the kitchen, especially with friends (I scared people on snapchat, lol  ). Everyone is welcome to the Nug stew, but dwarves go crazy over it. It's usually food for poor dwarves. I need to become an expert on Thedas, so I can figure more of this out. If Qunari has advance technology like the devs said, they should probably put that to use now. According to Iron Bull, they have a great naval army, so the pirates probably won't be able to take them on. I feel they would have a better time fighting on the sea than the land. 

 

I believe that the survey is correct, especially with the spoils of the qunari pack, and with Bioware cutting off last gen, I'm hoping this next DLC be pretty intense with full-scale on large battles. The Blight and the Breach didn't scare the south, so I'm pretty sure that the Qunari won't either. I guess it's going to be very interesting for you, especially since you're playing as a Qunari. 

[raging_monkey]

Don't get me started on the "cutting old Gen"

[Red of Rivia]

I'll have someone there...the usual package should be delivered to you within a few hours. 

 

You mean like cold? Just kidding!

Well, at least you are here now.

 

Sorry about the double post.  

I forget how that place was long ago... but is the same thing >_>

and I have a ideia for us, a wargame to play

[Serelir]

Still shambling toward Minrathous and maybe Seheron eventually.

 

Rochambeau, the next day

 

Spoiler

The next day, Elowyn was looking for Guy. A servant thought he’d gone to the stables and pointed her in the right direction. One of the grooms told her he’d seen Guy headed down to a barn in the lower field. Elowyn admired the peacefulness of the scenery on her stroll toward the barn. It was a new experience to be walking surrounded only by open countryside for miles in each direction. No one watching her every step, no fear of people recognizing her as a mage. Just grain rippling in the breeze, birds singing, sunshine on her arms. Bliss!

 

As she approached the barn, she heard raised voices. It sounded like Guy and Roget were arguing. She came around the side of the barn and saw Roget standing over a figure kneeling on the ground. Guy was a short distance away with his hands raised toward Roget, who was yelling and gesticulating. Elowyn saw the gleam of a dagger in Roget’s hand. She slowed her pace, trying to catch Guy’s eye.

 

Roget was shouting, “I caught this dirty little piece of trash skulking around the barn, and you think I should just let her go?!”

 

“Just calm down, Roget,” said Guy, “Don’t do anything drastic.”

 

“I have the right to defend my property!” spat Roget. “She’s one of those troublemakers, those Red Jennies!” He had hold of the girl by her shirt and shook her. Elowyn realized that the girl was very young, no more than seven or eight years old.

 

She called out, “Roget! She’s just a child!”

 

Guy used the moment of distraction to leap toward Roget and grab the arm with the dagger. But Roget was quick, and the two struggled. The little girl took the opportunity to scurry away as Elowyn rushed to help Guy. “Roget, put down the knife!” she cried, and tried to grab his arm. He backhanded her, and she staggered. She reached for her mana and flung an electric bolt at Roget, who stiffened and dropped to the ground. But Guy was clutching his belly and stumbling. Elowyn saw red flowing over his hand. She rushed to help him, but just then, two arrows slammed into Guy’s shoulder, flinging him about. Elowyn turned and lashed out with a stream of fire, but the archer had already taken off. She turned back and found Guy lying on the ground.

 

“Maker help us!” she cried. She knelt over Guy and tried to summon mana for a healing spell, but she’d put most of what she had into the bolt she’d aimed at Roget. “Guy, hang on!” His face had gone white, and he was mumbling something and clutching at his neck.

 

“Have to… take… this,” he struggled with his shirt collar.

 

“Guy, just hold still! I need to tend this wound.”

 

Guy finally managed to pull out a chain around his neck. On the end dangled a phylactery.

 

“Elo… can’t… they can’t… find you,” he managed to say.

 

“Guy, dammit! You’re not going to die! Just hold on, please, please hold on!”

 

With his last strength, Guy ripped the phylactery from his neck and pressed it into her hand. “Go! Mother… trying to kill us both. Get… out of… here!” he gasped, and passed out.

 

Elowyn put everything she had left into a healing spell and poured it into Guy’s body. A shadow fell over her. It was Roget, with the dagger. “Get away from him, you witch!” He kicked her in the ribs, and she felt something crack. She scurried backwards, feeling blackness at the edge of her vision. The blackness rose up and poured into her hands, sizzling with Guy’s blood, and she lashed out at Roget with elemental force, slamming his body into the air. It flew back and hit the side of the barn and collapsed.

 

She tried to stand up and gasped in pain. Dark clouds had covered the sun. The birds were silent. As she stumbled away, the rain began to fall, drowning the tears running down her face.

[raging_monkey]

Shamble away it's not the destination but the journey

[Serelir]

A Small Port on the Waking Sea

 

Spoiler

Two days later, she had reached the coast. She’d been in terrible pain from her broken ribs, though she was able to channel enough healing energy to be able to keep moving. Healing spells hadn’t been her area of study. She’d been drawn toward energy spells and interactions with the Fade. Now she wished she hadn’t dozed through Enchanter Langwell’s boring lectures. She hoped she had just enough coin left to book passage across the Waking Sea. She planned to pick up the Royal Highway near Cumberland and make her way to Minrathous. She’d pondered Guy’s last words to her, but she didn’t know what else to do except to escape Orlais and the Templars tracking down apostates. A country run by mages was looking awfully good at the moment. Even the relative freedom of Nevarra would be preferable.

Stevedores were loading ships at the docks. Elowyn listened to the seagulls and looked for a friendly face. The sun shining on the water blinded her. “’Ey there, missy, watch your step!” called out a muscular man hoisting a cask over his shoulder. She backed up, wincing as pain shot through her ribcage. She saw a woman with a jaunty hat poring over a list with a fussy little man in a fancy suit and decided to try her luck.

 

“Excuse me ser, are you sailing for Cumberland or Val Chevin?” she asked the woman with the hat.

 

The woman gave her the once-over and said, “Who’s askin’?”

 

“I’m seeking passage. I have coin,” she said, and shook her coin pouch, hoping it didn’t sound as empty as it felt.

 

The captain glanced at the little man, who nodded, then she turned back to Elowyn, “I might be able to arrange that. We’re leaving tonight though – that soon enough for you?”

 

“It’s fine. What’s the name of the ship, if you please?”

 

“She’s the Maker’s Bride. Meet us right here an hour after sundown.”

 

Elowyn hoped the ship’s name didn’t imply a connection with the Chantry, but by the look of the captain, she thought the name might have been an ironic choice. She decided to find a pub with decent food, if possible, to pass the time. There was a cheerful place at the end of the row called the Boastful Gamecock, so she pulled her hood tighter around her ears and went inside.

 

A bodacious lady was wiping the bar and told her to sit anywhere. Elowyn chose a table in the corner where she could watch the door, in case any soldiers showed up. She ordered bread and cheese, and when the publican brought her food, she asked, “What’s the word around town? Any news about the civil war?”

 

“Been quiet around ‘ere,” said the woman, setting down a bottle of the local brew which exhaled when opened like a living creature. Elowyn eyed it dubiously.

 

“Do you know anything about a ship called The Maker’s Bride?” asked Elowyn. The woman gave her a sharp look, “Why’d ya want ta know?”

 

“I’ve booked passage on it, that’s all. It will be my first time on a ship!” Elowyn replied with a smile.

 

“She’s seaworthy,” the woman said tersely, and went back to wiping tables.

 

Elowyn slid a slice of cheese onto a pinch of bread and took a bite. One thing could be said for Orlais: they knew how to make cheese. Elowyn wondered what sort of cheese they’d have in Tevinter.

 

When she’d finished her meal, she ordered a packet of food to take with her and another bottle of the mystery brew. “Watch yourself,” said the publican obscurely.

Elowyn rested under a tree until evening, trying to keep her thoughts from dwelling on what had become of Guy and all the chaos that had brought her to this place. She’d thought she’d be spending the rest of her life in the Tower among the books, growing steadily dusty and bent with ink-blackened fingertips. Yet here she was, embarking on a dangerous adventure, just like in the stories. As the last light slid below the horizon, she got up and walked back along the dock to the Maker’s Bride.

 

A sailor grunted at her and directed her up the gangway, where she was met by some sort of steward – a master or something like that. She tried to remember what she had read about ships and their crews. He whistled at a couple of sailors and jerked his head toward a hatch. “Follow me,” he said, and led her belowdecks toward a cabin. Elowyn ducked to go through the low doorway and then everything went dark. Someone had slid some sort of sack over her head! She struggled, felt a tremendous blow and blacked out.

[Serelir]

Aboard The Maker's Bride 

 

Spoiler

A despair demon was whacking the beetles running over her scalp with a garlic mallet. “Stop that!” she cried, and tried to grab the demon’s puny little arms. She tripped, rolled off of something and found herself lying on a floor that appeared to be moving up and down. Her stomach heaved, and she choked down vomit. There was something around her throat. Beyond her aching ribs and the gigantic lump on her head, she felt a strange emptiness. It wasn’t like hunger or thirst. It was more like… she suddenly realized that her mana was gone. Not drained, as when she used a spell. It just wasn’t there at all.

 

This must be what mundanes feel all the time, she thought. How… blank it was. She felt as if all the color had been leached from the world. What was this thing around her neck? She reached up and discovered that her wrists were tied tightly together. She felt the edges of a collar with her fingertips. It was strapped tightly around her throat. With her wrists tied, she couldn’t reach her arms far enough behind her head to locate a buckle. She collapsed again, moaning. Everything hurt.

 

***

 

A terror demon had replaced the despair demon and was poking her under her ribs. She tried to mind blast it away, but nothing happened. “Get off!” she yelled, flailing her flippers. Flippers? She grunted in frustration. No flippers. Bound hands. Still. She cracked open an eyelid and closed it again to avoid the vision of a gnarly sailor and the putrid stink of his breath in her face.

 

“Wakey, wakey!” he chortled. Elowyn tried to sit up. The sailor pushed her into a sitting position, making her cry out as her broken ribs grated. “Delicate little thing, ain’t ye,” remarked the sailor. Elowyn glared at him. “What have you done to me?” she demanded.

 

“What is this thing on my neck?”

 

“That, missy, is one genuine Qunari mage collar. Worth more than its weight in gold, that is!”

 

“I feel downright ostentatious! Where was this collar when I had to impress the Marquise?”

 

“Oh, you’ll be impressin’ more than a Marquise with that, ye will.”

 

“I can’t wait! And who is this More-than-a-Marquise?”

 

“You’ll see soon enough. Now it’s time for chow. Can’t have the merchandise starving.”

 

The “merchandise?” Elowyn groaned again. Slavers! What a complete fool she’d been, taking passage on a random ship to Tevinter. Whose plan had this been? Oh yes, Guy’s stepmother’s plan. He had tried to warn her. Her eyes teared up at the thought of Guy. Her best friend, dead. Everything had happened so fast. She felt completely bereft.

 

She tried to turn her head away when the sailor proffered a spoonful of revolting gruel, but he just held her nose until she was forced to open her mouth and popped the spoon in, whereupon she choked. He just sighed and wiped her face with a grubby hanky.

 

“You can give me the snake-eye all ye like, missy, but with that collar on, you’re just like any other elf. Chattel.” With that, he got up and left, taking his bowl of gruel with him. Elowyn’s stomach rumbled, then heaved again as the boat pitched. She righted herself and decided to try to explore the tiny cabin. Maybe there was something sharp she could use to cut her bonds.

 

Not a splinter, not even a nail! The boards that formed the cabin were put together with wooden pegs. If only she could summon the tiniest bit of fire, she could burn the ropes binding her wrists and try to detach the collar. But she had no magic at all. What could be in this collar, that it had such an effect? It’s a wonder they didn’t use them in Orlais, since mages were so feared.

 

Elowyn tried to calm herself and concentrate. She couldn’t escape now. Even if she could get free, she didn’t swim well, and her broken ribs would be a hindrance. She wished she’d said goodbye to her mother before leaving the alienage with Guy. Her mother tended to turn every crisis into her own personal drama. If Elowyn had told her about the Circle, her mother would probably have taken it personally. “My gifted child has ruined our family by leaving the Circle!” she imagined her mother saying, and “It’s all your father’s fault!” As she always blamed Elowyn’s father for any little thing that went wrong, because he was Dalish, because he was an artist, because he drank to forget the pain of his people, because he had died and left them to fend for themselves. Her father, who had taught her to sing in Elvish and to dream.

 

She wondered if this ship had memories, echoes remaining of other voyages. As her breathing relaxed, her mind loosened and wandered. She felt as though other people surrounded her. They were speaking in Elvish, whispering. She listened, trying to distinguish voices. There was some comfort in the press of bodies and the sound of the elven tongue that had been spoken by her father.

 

“Mama, where are they taking us?” The voice of a little boy.

 

“We are going to a castle in the sky.”

 

“Will there be dragons there?”

 

“There will be dragons. And snakes, lot of snakes.”

 

“Mama, where is Laelia now? Did the snakes get her?”

 

“She is with the Maker, Duvain. Andraste is with her, and daddy, and Tovias.”

 

Elowyn reached out with her bound hands and felt the hand of another grasp hers. She began to sing a song of her people, a story of the long walk, filled with the heartbreak of exile. Voices rose to join her own.

 

“Will ye shaddap, ye bunch o’ knifears!”

 

Elowyn blinked. She was still in the cabin, but all alone. The stinking sailor came in. “Brought ye a chamber pot. I hope ye can manage.” He set it down, and Elowyn waited for him to leave. It was difficult to raise her skirts with her hands bound, but damned if she was going to ask him for help. The ship pitched and rolled, and the chamber pot slid across the floor. Elowyn gritted her teeth and crawled over to fetch it. She finally managed to relieve herself and placed the pot as far away as she could. “Stay there!” she commanded it.

 

The sailor eventually returned and fetched the pot, then brought her some water. She drank it gratefully. “No spittin’ it out this time, eh? Funny how a little depervation can make ya biddable.”

 

“Where are you taking me?” Elowyn asked him, echoing the child in her dream.

 

“They don’t tell me all that,” said the sailor. “Need to know basis, that is. We deliver, we get paid, and that’s it.”

 

“Who is doing the paying? Some sort of dealer?”

 

“You think these high and mighty Vints would do the business theirselves? Nope! They don’t dirty their hands wiv’it.”

 

“So someone ordered this? Or did your captain just take the opportunity when I showed up at the dock?”

 

The sailor just shrugged. “Ye’ll see soon enough!” he cackled. He patted her on the head and left again.

 

At last the motion of the ship slowed. Elowyn heard the cries of seagulls and the voices of sailors calling out to furl the sails and tie up. The sounds of footsteps, several pairs, and two sailors came in, placed a hood over her head, picked her up bodily, and carried her out.

 

The carried her off the ship and placed her on the ground. She heard a male voice say, “This is the one? Take off the hood – let me see what you’ve brought.”

 

The hood was whisked off, and Elowyn took a deep breath of decidedly fresher air. She never thought she’d feel grateful for the smell of a dock. The ground reeled beneath her. It was nighttime.

 

She looked up to see who was speaking, but it was difficult to make out the person’s face in the gloom. She could see that he had the pointed ears of an elf and wondered at that. He nodded and tossed a bag of coin to the captain of the vessel, who was standing with the sailors. Then he gestured at some people in what looked like leather armor, and they came over and hauled her upright.

 

The elven man took out a dagger, and she tried to back away. He reached over, grabbed her arm, and sliced through the ropes. Then he looked her up and down. “Pretty beat up there. We’ll have to see to that gash on your head. Bunch of morons!” This last seemed to be directed at the sailors. “Think you can ride?” the man asked her.

 

Elowyn rubbed her sore wrists, trying to get the blood back into her hands. She wasn’t sure she should tell him that her ribs were broken. He saw her hesitation, and gestured to one of the men. “Urthus, she’s riding with you – hold onto her.”

 

The man came forward and led her to a horse. She considered whether she could run away, but beat up as she was and without her magic, she didn’t think she would get very far. The man helped her mount, then got up behind her. She gasped as his arm knocked into her side. “Ser, she’s hurt!” he called to the leader, who came over. “Okay, get down. Let’s see how bad it is.”

Down off the horse again, another gasp of pain – every move hurt, and she wasn’t able to ease her pain with magic as she usually would. How do people live like this? She wondered.

 

The leader grasped her shirt to lift it up, and she flinched. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, “I just want to see your injuries.” One of the men held a torch up. The leader whistled when he saw the purple bruises. It did look pretty bad, and being knocked around in the ship hadn’t helped. “Bring some bandages,” he demanded. He applied some sort of salve and wound the bandages around her ribs. “It’s going to have to do. We’ll take it a little slower so she doesn’t jounce around. Mount up!”

 

Back onto the horse. The bandages helped slightly. The group of riders, about seven of them, headed away from the shore. “Where are we going?” she asked the man behind her. “Sshhhh, keep quiet,” he said. She studied the landscape. They were on a small road going slightly uphill. She could see the shapes of trees in the distance, but only a few scattered lights here and there. A sparsely settled place, perfect for smugglers. The little moon, Satin, peeped out from behind a cloud, and Elowyn tried to take comfort in its light.

 

She was curious about the leader of the group. The rest of the men were shemlens. It was unusual for an elf to be in command of a group of humans. He’d spoken to the sailors in Orlesian, and she realized that he’d been speaking Tevene to the soldiers. She’d studied the Tevinter language extensively, as many historical and magical texts were written in it, but rarely heard it spoken in conversation. She was surprised she could understand it so well.

 

Elowyn tried to picture the map of Thedas in her head. The ship had supposedly been headed to Val Chevin, but she had little idea of how long they’d been at sea. Even so, they’d have to pass through Nevarra or the Free Marches to get to Tevinter. Though there was friction between Nevarra and Tevinter, they were technically at peace. No help there, she thought. Slavery was legal in Tevinter. Though the other countries in Thedas, except for the Qunari-held territory, had outlawed slavery, there was little effort to free Tevinter slaves or stop the practice of capturing and smuggling of free people, mostly elves, from the rest of Thedas into Tevinter. This group who had bought her seemed organized, and Elowyn expected they’d have forged ownership papers to present should they be stopped. Little good it would do her to protest – she had nothing to prove she was a free citizen of Orlais.

 

After several hours of riding, the troop stopped at a roadside inn. The soldier helped her down from her horse. She almost fell, her legs were so wobbly. She’d never been so exhausted. He guided her inside and sat her down at a table. At least these men were gentle. Thank the Maker for small blessings!

 

She saw the leader carefully survey the premises then negotiate with the innkeeper for stabling the horses, dinner and rooms for the men. He came over to her table and sat down next to her, keeping an eye on the doorway. She studied him as he studied the room. He had long dark-blond hair in a ponytail and markings on his face. They looked a bit like the Dalish vallaslin, but not quite. She noticed that his leathers, though plain of decoration and practical, were finely-tailored. He turned to look at her, and she was surprised at the color of his eyes, a pale turquoise that contrasted with his tan skin. He had a serious demeanor, so when he grinned at her, his whole face lit up. She felt her cheeks grow hot and looked down at her hands. She felt grubby and disheveled and wondered if she stank. He put a hand under her chin and turned her head.

 

“How’s that wound? Not as bad as I thought. Let’s have some food, then we’ll get that cleaned up. Might need a stitch or two.” Elowyn winced, and the man laughed. “Afraid of a few stitches?”

 

“No! I am not!” she protested.

 

“That’s the spirit!” He smiled and beckoned the publican over. Bowls of stew and a bottle of wine. Elowyn felt ravenous. She tried to suppress her traitorous hunger, but her stomach rumbled loudly, and the man laughed merrily. He broke off a chunk of bread and handed it to her. “Got to keep your strength up for the journey,” he said.

 

Elowyn felt mystified. This was not how she’d pictured slave smugglers. “Is this how you treat all your captives?” she asked.

 

“My captives?” He looked puzzled for a moment. “Oh, you think I’m a smuggler!” He laughed even harder. His merriment was starting to irritate her.

 

“Then who are you?” she demanded hotly.

 

“Introductions are in order – how remiss of me!” He said charmingly. “I am Marcus Caratacus Lucianus. But you can call me Caradoc.”

 

Elowyn’s brow furrowed. “That’s a grand name for an elf!” she exclaimed. Caradoc guffawed and slapped the table. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

 

“Nothing, nothing,” he gasped. He took a sip of wine and cleared his throat, the corners of his mouthing screwing up as he tried not to laugh again.

 

“Well, you’re very merry! For a not-smuggler person who kidnaps people!”

 

“Kidnapping? You must think me a terrible person. No, we paid good coin for you.” The irritating twit took a large bite of bread and kept smiling.

 

“You can’t just buy people!” Elowyn declared hotly. She hoped the publican might overhear her, but he was busy tending to the other soldiers.

 

“Can’t I?” said Caradoc, swallowing.  He touched her cheek, and she tried to swat his hand away. She felt tears of frustration form and tried to blink them away. She often cried when she was angry and hated herself for showing weakness.

 

Caradoc gestured at the food. “Eat, drink! There will be plenty of time to discuss your new situation.” Elowyn reluctantly picked up her spoon. Caradoc began humming a tune. She wanted to kick him. The stew was surprisingly tasty, and she ate it all up and had to stop herself from guzzling the wine, she was so thirsty.

 

Caradoc gave her another self-satisfied smile. “Now, let’s see to your head, shall we?” He got up and reached out to help her stand, then led her upstairs to a private room. Another soldier brought a pitcher of water, a bowl and some bandages, along with a little kit containing needles and thread. “Always prepared!” said Caradoc, and, moistening a cloth, he began cleaning her wound himself. Elowyn thought this was odd.

 

“Who are you? I mean, what… why?” she sputtered.

 

“So many questions all at once! I’ve already told you who I am. As to the what, I am cleaning this nasty gash on your head, and the why is that we don’t want it to get icky.” He whistled as he threaded a needle. “Now, hold still!” Before Elowyn could protest, he made two stitches, closed the wound and bit off the end of the thread. “There! All tidy.”

 

“Has anyone ever told you how patronizing you are?” asked Elowyn snidely.

 

“’Thank you’ will do nicely.”

 

“Fine. Thank you for sewing up my head, you… you!” Words failed her. Elowyn had difficulty not being polite. Politeness had been beaten into her at the Circle. It didn’t do to peeve off Templars.

 

Disconcertingly, Caradoc picked up her hand and kissed it. “You poor thing! Let’s have some hot water, shall we? It’s difficult to be articulate when you’re not at your best.” He went to the doorway and conferred with one of the soldiers standing there. In short order, the inn’s servants carried in an actual bath tub, hot water, soap – real soap! - and towels.

 

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Caradoc. “Don’t even think of attempting to escape. We have all the exits covered. And where would you go?”

 

‘Where indeed?’ thought Elowyn ruefully, as she stripped off her filthy clothes and stepped gingerly into the hot bath. She tugged at the collar, but it wouldn’t budge. She’d thought there had been a buckle, but the collar was closed with a solid piece of metal. However it worked, it must be magically sealed. ‘Will I have to live the rest of my life with this thing on my neck?’ she wondered.

 

She scrubbed herself thoroughly, wrung out her hair, and dried off. There was a shift folded on the bed. She put it on. “I should be screaming and pounding the walls!’ she thought. ‘Instead, I’m dressing like a dutiful little child, and I don’t even know who these people are or why I’m here.’ She was so tired though. Too tired to think about how to escape, and the bed looked so inviting. She sank under the covers and into slumber.

[raging_monkey]

Fabulous

[Serelir]

Thanks! I've been reading Uccio's story, trying to catch up and figure out how Elowyn is going to deal with Magister Caius.

[raging_monkey]

Caius is a tricky one for monkai it's a partnership but there's always a catch.. speaking of catches here's season 2

Act 4

Spoiler

Monkai arrived at vallionius manor it's been a year since he moved in with zara, it was in his words decadate due to the elaborate designs but better than most places he's lived especially that sabbatical over in marothius the past few months. As he walked to open the gate he glimpsed and saw magistrate darkhan.
" Come to weasel your way into my wife's blood lotus my friend " monkai sardonically jibbed. "Hehe you were gone she needed somebody why not?" Darkon responded equally. "Your welcome by the way getting your post back here in minrathous... "first enchanter"... darkon walked past him smiling ruefully. Monkai could never get a read on him. Darkon was a mage of old laetan lineage he trained under caius personally and at point engaged to zara but turned both her and caius down to go into another house of lesser repute. He was powerful enough to destroy qunari dreadnoughts on his own and fought in the qunari skirmishes that been raging for centuries, but left that to be a magistrate for reasons known only to him... he was a snake no doubt bout that.

Zara noticed monkai enter the manor she smiled and kissed him not noticing the flith on his robes from his stint in arcanuam. "Maker you look horrid and smell of bronto dung" she playfully remarked. "Yeah it's all the rage this season shite and dirt " he responded laughing at the irony that it was in rivain.

XXx
Monkai entered his laboratory viewing his artifact he found in the deep roads a year ago it sang to him it was originally lyrium in stone form but after the grand arcanist and master articier refined it it inert. In theory the amulet should amplify his power but in practice it caused scorn to become the dominant persona and marginal increase in power.
take it and you'll be able to rend that fool who thought they could be rid of us scorn said nudging him to do her bidding. He genuinely considered it and as he reached to take it to begin his investigation a deafening sound rang thoughout the building and a bright red light enveloped him

XXx
Fire raged through out the manor everything was aflame the rubble burned at a distance it looked a like a bonfire but close up it was devastated under the rubble lied a woman wearing a ring with house vallious's signet ring

[Serelir]

Dang! Glad I didn't write their meet-up yet.

[raging_monkey]

Hehe yeah I wanted to change it up a bit from previous arcs and it gets rough in act 5

[Uccio]

Ooo anyone hurting Caius daughter better get ready for some serious pain.

[raging_monkey]

Hehe tune in at 6pm for the next episode lol

#BLOODRUNSTHICK