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[mousestalker]

Three Words

He moved quietly through the gloom. He had never really liked the underground roads but his experience and their relationship had given him familiarity with their ways.

She was no longer bothering to hide her tracks. He could read the signs of her passage quite clearly. She had left a full day ahead of him. His greater skill at tracking and his knowledge of her probable path had helped him gain most of that time back. He felt certain she could be no more than an hour or two ahead of him now.

The problem was that they were now both far past Bownommar. Further indeed than he had ever been. The stench of darkspawn was omnipresent, neither growing nor diminishing. He continued his quiet trot along the wall lining the road.

He began to hear the faint sounds of a battle ahead. He had no sensitivity to darkspawn as the Grey Wardens had. There were very many, he thought. He quickened his pace. The darkspawn sensed Grey Wardens and headed for them. He had no need of secrecy now.

His eyes saw something shine in the distance. As he closed towards it, he saw a shining line rise and fall in a familiar rhythm. There were many darkspawn, mostly genlocks, but he saw the taller forms of hurlocks in the mob. They were dropping quickly as the gleaming blade rose and fell amongst them.

Absurdly he heard a song. In the midst of his desperate hurry he had to stifle a laugh. She was singing a very bawdy Antivan ballad he had taught her. She had paid better attention to his singing than he had thought. “That clever minx!” She was nearing the bit about the miller's predicament when she stumbled on a line.

He moved into a full run. She resumed singing briefly then stopped. He was near enough that he heard the blade slide past her armour. There were only four genlocks left and no hurlocks. One more fell and he could see her. Her back was to him and she stabbed, hard, another foe. It grunted and returned the blow. She staggered back. Another genlock sidestepped and stabbed for her back. She twisted and the blow grazed her shoulder. Her left arm fell limp.

Horrified, he threw himself on the other genlock. It squealed in surprise and crumpled quickly. He wheeled towards her and saw her collapse in the pool of her own blood. The last genlock roared triumph and plunged its blade into her eye. He slashed its throat, cutting off its cry.

No foes remained. White faced, she looked at him. Her eyes were surrounded by patches of black. Her skin was mottled. He had never seen someone so beautiful. She smiled and died as he reached for her.

“I love you” he wept.

[mousestalker]

Letter From Orzammar

My Lord Vaughan,

When you sent us to look for the dwarf I had no idea how horrid a mission that was. The woman you described turns out to be the sister of the king. She is also what the dwarves call a Perrygorn. Her name is Sereda Aeducan.

All seven of us were able to enter Orzammar. Birk was killed almost instantly for bumping into a noble's bodyguard. After that we stayed away from anyone well dressed. Davy died when he fell into a pool of molten rock. Sam found out who our target was almost immediately. All the dwarves know who she is. The problem is that they all think she's Andraste reborn. Sam and Furl were killed in a riot when they said something about her.

The Smash, Hask and I found our way to Dust Town. We did make a few contacts there. The Smash ran into some thugs. He now doesn't have a tongue and they have added a tail to him. He's now a working girl for the carter. He's happy though. Hask ran away one night. I haven't seen him since.

I found a criminal who said he would do the deed. I am now in a jail cell. I did see the target. She came round to see me, asked me who sent me. She didn't remember you. She did ask one of her people if humans could join the lesion. I didn't like the sound of that, but the guy said humans couldn't. She then told them to exile me just like she had been.

My lord, I like my knees and they mostly left them intact when I gave them your name. They said if I wrote this letter to you, they would let me go with a sword, water and bread.

You may be Arl of Denerim, but you will probably want to run. One of the guards said something about giving you to the crows.

Your formerly obedient servant,

Jamie Forneder

[mousestalker]

Isabela's Privateers

Oh, the year was 9:30 Dragon, HOW I WISH I WAS IN AYESLEIGH NOW!
A letter of marque come from the king,
To the scummiest vessel I'd ever seen,
Gods damn them all!
I was told we'd cruise the seas for Qunari gold
We'd shoot no bows-shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Denerim pier
The last of Rivain's Privateers.
Oh, Isabela cried the town, HOW I WISH I WAS IN AYESLEIGH NOW!
For a hundred men all fishermen who
Would make for her the Siren's crew
Gods damn them all!
I was told we'd cruise the seas for Qunari gold
We'd shoot no bows-shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Denerim pier
The last of Rivain's Privateers.
The Siren's Call was a sickening sight, HOW I WISH I WAS IN AYESLEIGH NOW!
She'd a list to the port and and her sails in rags
And the cook in scuppers with the staggers and the jags
Gods damn them all!
I was told we'd cruise the seas for Qunari gold
We'd shoot no bows-shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Denerim pier
The last of Isabela's Privateers.
On the King's birthday we put to sea, HOW I WISH I WAS IN AYESLEIGH NOW!
We were 91 days to Brendel's Bay
Pumping like madmen all the way
Gods damn them all!
I was told we'd cruise the seas for Qunari gold
We'd shoot no bows-shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Denerim pier
The last of Isabela's Privateers.
On the 96th day we sailed again, HOW I WISH I WAS IN AYESLEIGH NOW!
When a bloody great Qunari hove in sight
With our warped ballistas we made to fight
Gods damn them all!
I was told we'd cruise the seas for Qunari gold
We'd shoot no bows-shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Denerim pier
The last of Isabela's Privateers.
The Qunari lay low with gold, HOW I WISH I WAS IN AYESLEIGH NOW!
She was broad and fat and loose in the stays
But to catch her took the Siren two whole days
Gods damn them all!
I was told we'd cruise the seas for Qunari gold
We'd shoot no bows-shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Denerim pier
The last of Isabela's Privateers.
Then at length we stood two cables away, HOW I WISH I WAS IN AYESLEIGH NOW!
Our warped ballista made an awful din
But with one fat ball the Qun stove us in
Gods damn them all!
I was told we'd cruise the seas for Qunari gold
We'd shoot no bows-shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Denerim pier
The last of Isabela's Privateers.
The Siren shook and pitched on her side, HOW I WISH I WAS IN AYESLEIGH NOW!
Isabela was pushed clear overside
And the flechettes chewed off all me thigh
Gods damn them all!
I was told we'd cruise the seas for Qunari gold
We'd shoot no bows-shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Denerim pier
The last of Isabela's Privateers.
So here I lay in my 23rd year, HOW I WISH I WAS IN AYESLEIGH NOW!
It's been 6 years since we sailed away
And I just made Denerim yesterday
Gods damn them all!
I was told we'd cruise the seas for Qunari gold
We'd shoot no bows-shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Denerim pier
The last of Isabela's Privateers


My apologies to Stan Rogers

[mousestalker]

Mother of the Year

No man stood by her when the baby was born. A mage served as her midwife and a dwarf attended the mage. The human sized baby nearly tore her apart in what seemed an eternity of agony and blood. Of the two men she would have wanted to be there, one was too old to travel and the other had abandoned her to be a king.

When Velanna held the baby for Fenaria to admire, she noted the rounded human features. Sigrun eagerly asked her what the name would be for her beautiful boy. She wearily said "Urthem, his name is Urthem". Velanna gave her commander a long slow look, then nodded.

Rather than spend her days in confinement with her newborn, Fenaria resolved to act as Warden Commander. Such was the thoroughness with which she had routed the darkspawn, the nobles and the Crows that few questioned her fitness to rule thus encumbered. A woman who slays a broodmother while great with child is not one to be lightly challenged, least of all a woman who knows the old elven magics.

Urthem was just beginning to crawl when word came to the Keep that the king was returning. Fenaria hadn't seen her former love since the rainy day when she first arrived. She looked out over the battlements at Alistair and his entourage. They were mounted this time, she noted with surprise. Alistair sat a horse very well. Perhaps he did learn something in the stables after all she thought with a slight smirk. She was surprised at how attractive she still found him. Of course his riding may have had something to with it. Men really do look better on top of horses, she thought. Then with a smooth motion she began walking to the main hall. She would receive her lord and master there.

The hall was crowded of course. The nobles were filling almost every available spot. Velanna had stationed herself where she could hear and see but not be observed. Oghren, Sigrun and Anders were all clustered to the right. Nathaniel was nowhere to be found. She rather suspected that if she pressed him later he's simply say he was out scouting. It was times like this when Fenaria wished either Zevran or Leliana were around. She had heard Leliana was off working for the Chantry and that Zevran was working free lance. She needed a way to get in touch with him.

The doors opened and Fenaria rose to greet her guests. Her smile was a great deal warmer than she felt. She'd just as soon never see this man again or his entourage. He had dumped her, forgotten his promise to make her chancellor and shipped her off to a fortress teeming with darkspawn and conspiracies. Maybe he didn't expect it, but she rather thought Eamon and Anora had a good idea of what was here when Alistair came up with his brilliant plan. Maybe they didn't know about the darkspawn but Fenaria would bet every aravel her clan had that they knew about the nobles' plots.

And as attractive as Alistair looked, and he did look absolutely delicious... Fenaria shook herself mentally. However desirable he might be in theory, he married someone else to produce heirs that so far remained unproduced. Grey Wardens or not, they had one baby. If she came up pregnant again..., Fenaria shook herself again. There was no chance of that ever happening.

Alistair strode forward, Eamon just behind.

Fenaria did a full, formal curtsey. "Welcome to Vigil's Keep, your Majesty. Welcome your Grace. Welcome all who attend upon you."

Alistair replied more stiffly "Thank you Warden Commander. If we could refresh ourselves for now, we would like to confer with you privately at your earliest convenience."

"Of course, your Majesty. We will wait upon your summons. Seneschal Varel will show you to your rooms and see to your comfort."

Fenaria curtsied less deeply this time. Alistair and his company exited. Fenaria noted how his eyes had swept the room. Was he expecting to find a crib in a formal reception room? The assorted nobles chattered amongst themselves. Fenaria signaled an end to the gathering and went off to the nursery.

Her young son was very good looking she thought reflectively. What few features he had of hers were more than complemented by the ones he had from his father. She had a feeling he was going to be very tall indeed, taller even than Alistair.

"He's a bit of a blob, isn't he?"

Fenaria whirled around angrily to see the blob's father grinning at her. The grin faded.

"He's a bit of a problem, you know." he said quietly, checking to see that no one was in ear shot.

Of course no one was. Fenaria had sent his nurse off to get her lunch when she arrived.

"How so?" Fenaria asked coldly.

"Anora suspects that he's mine. She knows about how Gray Wardens aren't supposed to be able to have children. And here he is, his mother a Grey Warden and his probable father one as well. If I acknowledge him, he will be dead within a week."

"I'd rather you didn't acknowledge him" Fenaria retorted. "He has better things to do with his life than be a king's bastard. I don't want him near the throne."

Alistair winced at her words, but replied mildly "That's settled then. He doesn't get to be my heir."

"Good" was the only reply he got.

"You're still angry then".

"No, actually I'm not. I just don't want to be entangled in it all again. Here I have my son, I have responsibilities and I have purpose."

"But you don't have love." he replied "For what it's worth, neither do I".

"Well, you made that choice for both of us." Fenaria could feel her anger rising. She had promised she would remain calm and cool. Creators, did she still have feelings for this man?

"I did what I thought was best for the kingdom. That didn't mean I wanted it. I didn't want to have to make that choice, but it was forced on me."

She looked him straight in the eyes. "Why are you bringing all of this up?" She demanded.

"Because, all I've been thinking about is" and he grabbed her, held her and kissed her.

She was the most powerful mage in all of Ferelden. Templar training or no she could turn him into a stone, freeze him solid or turn him into a puppet. Instead she leaned into his arms and kissed him back. Part of her fought against it. She still wanted him to suffer, to hurt as she had. But what she really wanted was him.

Afterwards, they found themselves in a tangle of clothes on the nursery floor. Urthem was sleeping soundly.

"So what now?" he asked.

Fenaria's sensible side came to the fore. "You leave in a couple of days and we don't do this ever again once you're gone. I won't be your mistress. This is my home."

"So what about us?"

"We have some better memories now. I daresay when you leave, we'll have even more." She grinned at him.

He grinned back, then sobered.

"How did he happen?" asked Alistair, pointing at his sleeping son.

"You don't remember? I'm pretty sure you were there at Redcliffe Castle, with the darkspawn attacking Denerim and a forced march in the morning, the quickie in your bedroom just after Morrigan told me about her plan. I can still remember it."

"I know about sex."

"You've learned fast then" she said, venting a little of her anger.

"I meant about how you were even able to conceive. It isn't supposed to happen."

"I wasn't supposed to survive either." She replied.

"They're connected? Just what was Morrigan up to?" he pressed.

"I'm not certain of the details, just the theory. Avernus and I have discussed it at some length, mostly by correspondence of course." She temporized.

"You really don't want Urthem to know?" He stumbled slightly over his son's name.

"He deserves not to grow up with that. I don't see where your knowledge helped you in any way. People may suspect, but as the years pass and you don't say anything, doubts will grow. And if anyone asks, I will deny it." She said flatly. "I want him to have a different destiny than to be a king. He's my son, I want him to be great. I think he will be great. But not as a king."

"Oh" Alistair said quietly.

"We'd better get dressed" she said after a few moments of silence. "His nurse should be back any minute now."

They rose and dressed each other in their finery. Fenaria smoothed Alistair's hair and gave him a quick kiss. They broke off when the door opened and their son's nurse bustled in.

One week later, Alistair could see her small, slim figure in the distance. He waved at her. Everyone on the Vigil's battlements waved back.

All in all, the visit had gone better than he expected. Fenaria was odder than before and when you say that about a Dalish mage you're saying something. Alistair wondered if that might have to do with her son, their son, but then he recalled Velanna. Perhaps it was a Dalish thing, he thought. The oddest thing of all was when Fenaria had made him promise to keep an eye out for Morrigan. She said Morrigan was probably very angry right now. Anything that annoyed the swamp witch was something Alistair approved of. He did have the oddest feeling he had missed something very important.

He turned his mind to thoughts of home. He was dreading the return to Denerim. Unlike a certain elf, Anora's idea of foreplay was to read a report on the turnip harvest. If he started a war, maybe he could avoid returning to the palace. Fighting Orlais was probably a bad idea, although Loghain would be up for it. On second thought, avoiding Anora and being stuck with Loghain was a very bad idea. Maybe he should deal with the Korcari Wilders. They had some decent cheeses down that way he recalled...

Modifié par mousestalker, 13 juin 2012 - 02:00 .

[mousestalker]

Nemesis

The elf stopped in disbelief. There was the one who had ruined all of his hopes and plans for the future. The Hero of Ferelden was here in this dusty roadside tavern. Cammen's arms dropped and the dish he was drying smashed to the ground.

The humans all applauded derisively and the Hero glanced over at him and then returned to her companions. She had slept with Cammen. She had slept with his true love Gheyna and, more to the point, she had hunted to extinction every animal that had an acceptable pelt.

Cammen had tried to present a sewn together pelt of rabbit fur, but his clanmates laughed at him. In shame he had left the clan to wander the shem lands. In time he had fetched up here. And now his worst enemy had walked into the bar as though she didn't have a care in the world.

"You there, elf. Get back to work" Tim the barkeep snapped at him.

"Yes, ser, sorry ser." Cammen ducked his head and returned to his task. He discovered that drying tankards lent itself to sustained thought. He had a plan. He would get his due. The Grey Warden would pay and pay dearly. His plan required a bit more action than he was used to doing, but it was virtually foolproof.

He waited and polished, and washed and served and dried. Then the right moment arrived. Tim poured off another round of drinks for the warden's table. The only problem was Cammen couldn't be sure which one was hers. He coughed, then coughed again. He looked at them, they were all ale. He spat on to a bar spoon, then dipped the spoon into the nearest tankard. He bustled off.

"Here are your drinks!" he said with a smile and served them 'round. He handed the special tankard to the Hero and then went off to wash more dishes.

Revenge was his and it was sweet indeed. If his clan could only see him now...

[mousestalker]

The Drow's Tale (currently incomplete) may be found in the blog area and on ff.net (link in sig, below).

Blog links by chapter:

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Modifié par mousestalker, 25 septembre 2012 - 01:43 .

[mousestalker]

Alistair:

Oh, better far to live and die
under the bastard's flag I fly,
Than play a theological part
With a kingly head and a kingly heart.
Away to the chanting world go you
Where templars are all well to do
But I'll be true to the song I sing
And live and die the rightful King

For I am the rightful King
And it is, it is a glorious thing
To be the rightful King!

For I am the rightful King!
Chorus:
You are!
Hurrah for our rightful King!
Alistair:
And it is, it is a glorious thing
To be the rightful King.
Chorus:
It is!
Hurrah for our rightful King!
Alistair & Chorus:
Hurrah for the/our rightful King!

Alistair.

When I sally forth to seek my prey
I help myself in a royal way.
I kill a few more teyrns, it’s true,
Than a well-bred monarch ought to do;
But many a king on a first-class throne,
If he wants to call his crown his own,
Must manage somehow to get through
More dirty work than ever I do,

repeat chorus

Apologies to Messrs Gilbert & Sullivan 

{{I'm way too proud of this one}}