165 réponses à ce sujet

[Maximus741000]

Thank you once again for the feedback, it's always a true encouragement to know where I'm going. Now, time to unmask our nemesis!!

Covert Preparations

Three days passed, and Aldanon would continue to work alongside the reluctant duke to prepare Val Royeaux for battle. Though he rarely visited the battlefield, he was scheduled a chance to go on one last important reconnaissance mission before falling back to defend the city. Mostly he would remain within the camp and draw strategies with Charles and Geoffrey, and the touchy d’Aubrac. Mostly d’Aubrac would consent for their honest tactical logic, but still remained bitter. He was also present to receive new allies in the city; the soldiers of the port town of Val Chevin, hardy sailor folk who had ability for finesse, light armour and agility. However, events in the central regions of the city were becoming too dire to ignore; but no one could see or hear it coming.

                                                                                    ++++++++++++

In spite of the evacuations, people in Val Royeaux had recently started seeing whole groups of alienage elves being taken out of their area escorted by bands of aggressive looking mercenaries. And the alienage was declared a safe region by the Empress, nowhere near the western part of the city, so they couldn’t have been evacuees. The Town Guard investigated this and found nothing that could legally give them reason to stop them, from time to time mercenary would show them a letter of marque permitting them to take these elves, signed and sealed by the Empress’s husband Claude d’Aubrac, permitting them to be removed from the alienage in the event that Val Royeaux should fall.

Other times, in fact more often, the patrols would be wiped out and their bodies taken, never to be found. The few within the circles of the dwindling city guard who would hear of the letters would have only suspected that they were a fraud, the Duke would not stoop to such peculiar dealings with elves and mercenaries. The man himself heatedly and frequently denied the possibility that he could have anything to do with it, and the Empress would back him firmly. With such a lead, the guards lead many investigations into this, taking entire patrols to find the elves and mercenaries. But after a while, they would turn up nothing. And the common folk seemed to know little of seeing crowds of elves and mercenaries, nor where they went. What was also curious was the disappearance of the bodies of missing guards. However, most leads guided them to a run-down warehouse, in the far flung corners of the back alleys. Logically, this would be reason enough for an investigation, but insistence of the captain and of the Duke prevented investigation, insisting upon fighting the darkspawn. Many still held that this mysterious threat was the true danger, they weren’t wrong.

                                                                                    ++++++++++++

Fortunately for François the mage, it meant the operation could proceed simply and with ease. Val Royeaux’s alienage lodged up to 10,000 elves, each desperate, cramped and starving. The chance to improve their lives was irresistible, even if it meant joining the wrong side. Within the warehouse, smith Benoit worked drudgingly to prepare weapons and armour for these new conscripts, mostly blades of iron or steel and leather cuirasses. The network of thieves led by Iūrups had worked throughout the nights to acquire ore from smithies and valuables from noble houses to sell for supplies, but more were being lost to the guards. He was also instructed by the mistress to begin work on a restraining device, for what reason he did not know. François had also been utilizing the spies to hunt down apostate mages and brought them to his side, within days he had gathered half a dozen of them, all obedient and extremely dangerous. Any dead elves, mercenaries or guards were taken into the furthest reach of the tunnels to be worked on by the mages, what for was still a mystery. To make room, Aundar ordered the mercenaries to move to the taverns, an improvement due to the access of ale, the huge numbers of them meant that the tavern guests were getting easily upset. It became clear to them that soon the operation would became noticed by even the Empress, and with the dreaded Aldanon at her side, the danger was too great. Aundar had ordered the mercenaries in the Western part of the city to withdraw at once to avoid capture.

There were also tunnels that dug beneath the warehouse were beginning to stretch deep just to contain the new sword arms. François ordered more elves to be taken from the alienage to be used as slave labourers, doing the duties that the mercenaries had began refusing, including digging tunnels beneath the warehouse, as well as serving as porters around the base. There was even one incident when Aundar brought back a mother and her baby girl to the warehouse, which only occurred because the devoted mother refused to abandon her child; and her husband had been drafted into the makeshift army. But the foul conditions were starting to weaken her gravely.

“Please, sir,” she pleaded faintly to François, who was working on his potions nearby, “My child has not eaten, and I’m not strong enough to take care of her.” suddenly she recoiled in pain and fear as the mage’s hand struck down on her face. Her oppressor leered imperiously over her as she laboured to control her emotions.
“You’re here to work, you worthless elf, your child is just another burden you’ve decided to bear, on your own foolishness.” He raised his staff to inflict an entropic curse, but he was stopped by Aundar’s iron grip.
“You worthless mage!” he cursed in a lupine manner, “The mistress wants slaves to work, not dead flesh! Give the wench food and water.” The mage was about to protest, but was cut short by the deep growl from the Anderfel man. Dissatisfied, the mage returned to his potions and runestones. François had voiced his disapproval of how large the operation was becoming, and that the fact that the guards were pulling back to the city gates was only too fortunate, else it would have ended a long time ago. But the mistress demanded that they continued, for word had it that their time to strike would come swiftly, but could not proceed until she was in the city. And then, the day came, the prey had walked into the trap.

                                                                                    ++++++++++++

Iūrups was on another one of his scout patrols around the gardens, tired, hungry and just about ready to walk out on this insane mission. Just as the mistress told him to, he had not returned to the hideout except to report on behalf of the spies and thieves. Nevertheless, the thought of clearing out all together was beginning to seem like a good idea. And then something caught his eye, fair lass with scarlet hair, fair skin, humming a melody to herself as she strolled through the city, alone. Iūrups followed her carefully, trying to confirm his suspicions; she set beneath the shade of a tree in one of the gardens to rest. Once she sat down, the spy had a clear view of his quarry. Just then an electric jolt surged down the spy’s spine; she was here. Leliana was in Val Royeaux! He knew what this meant. She stirred to life, caution in her actions, she had sensed the danger. Iūrups dashed into the distance. His victim stared at where he was, a cold feeling gripping her insides. She got up from her spot as she saw from the corner of her eye the spy, and began to track him down.

                                                                                    ++++++++++++

The moment he arrived at their base, the inhabitants were once again caught shocked by his sudden entrance which had alerted the entire warehouse. He panted deeply to regain his breath and rested on the armchair, it was a familiar ritual they were all used to. Once it was complete he began exhaustedly;
“She’s here, Leliana is in Val Royeaux!” the entire building stirred to life, an evil grin creased across François’ face and magic flowed from his fingers in anticipation, Aundar rallied his men and brandished his weapon yelling triumphantly, smith Benoit started to work harder, and every fighter set about to preparation. In the shadows, the insane cackle that was the mistress materialized, now more of her features visible.
“YEESSS!” she shrieked from the shadows, “She’s here, and now I have vengeance!” and thus Marjolaine emerged from the darkness. Her face was wrinkled with all those sleepless nights brooding, and her hair filthy and greying. She was clad in her own set of enchanted inscribed leathers, daggers across her back, each dripping with poisons, her creased face twisted into an evil smile that made shudder all in her wake, which broke into a long and very insane cackle, enough to shake the beams and rafters of her decrepit lair.

                                                                                    ++++++++++++

When Marjolaine finally collected herself, she strode about and called her captains, “Aundar Jürgen, gather your men, and move out into the city!” she ordered to the Ander warrior, “Follow our rogue to where he saw her, and follow his strategy to apprehend her!” a mercenary opened the door and the huge wolf of a man charged forth with his men. “Francois, fire the beacon!” and in response the mage raised his staff towards the broken ceiling releasing a jet of red light up into the sky. Knowing what such an obvious signal might incur, she turned to the mercenary archers, “I want you in station on top of the roofs of the surrounding buildings, target anyone who get suspicious and approach.” She turned back to François, who had stopped the beacon, “Now prepare your concoctions and your spells, and start to put the bodies to good use.” The mage nodded and descended into his lair beneath the floor. She turned to the fighters, now bustling about and steeling for battle. “As for the rest of you,” she cried to them, “have your blades and ambitions be bared. Be prepared!” she shrieked, and in response the army resounded in triumphant cries of war.

[Sisimka]

Wow, a lot of stuff coming together here, keep going!

[Maximus741000]

I had been hoping for a little bit more feedback, but luck's what you make it and something will turn up. Now for the next chapter!

Forest Patrol

Aldanon rose fresh and early from his tent, his muscles were still acclimatizing to having to fight in heavy armour after being stuck in Zevran’s handpicked suit for most days at the palace. Having practiced his skills in Highever, and been at war for most of his life as a grey warden, he was quite accustomed to going around in suits of armour. But this reintroduction to using it in practice as opposed for Ceremonial reasons was a familiar feeling to him. But there was stillness about the camp, and he knew the reason why; the darkspawn were less than a day away from the city, the scouts had reported that the horde numbered at least ten thousand were on their way. This was Aldanon’s only chance at forward combat and taking the fight to the enemy directly before having to fight on the walls of the city. He was told of his task the night before; pinpoint the attack formations in which the horde will be taking, thin out their numbers without being spotted – at least one battalion, locate and hopefully kill the commanders, and if possible – locate the source of intelligence. He made his way to his now rather large group; consisting of Geoffrey, Osecar, Argeles, Elanea, Wynne, Zevran, Durin and Oghren both clad in black legion armour, and his faithful mabari Max. He was also greeted by a new member to his already huge group; Marquis Jacques. He donned a suit of silverite chevalier armour, and a greatsword was across his back.
“Greetings, Jacques.” Aldanon greeted graciously, clasping his hand. “I take it you are to join us?”
“Of course, I’ve not met this darkspawn threat in the flesh,” he said passionately, the welcoming sincerity had turned into a passion for battle as seen in only the bravest and truest of knights “I intend to know our enemy. And fear not, I am a veteran of battle. I also believe your group will be too large to constitute a scouting party, the duke has ordered me to take command of half of your group. Perhaps you may make selections first.”
“Thank you Jacques” Aldanon acknowledged, and the group assembled in much the same manner as his old companions did before, informally and eagerly, “I will take Geoffrey, Argeles, Osecar, Elanea and Maximus.” The appointed companions gladly joined his side, but the remainders looked at him puzzled.“I’m sorry Wynne, Durin, Oghren, and Zevran but you will have to go with Jacques.” Durin looked at him incredulously and Oghren frowned in disbelief, but Aldanon’s earnest look confirmed his fears. He turned bright red, almost as red as his beard.
“WHAT?!” Oghren gagged and yelled, “You want me to fight beside this prig of a dwarf?!” he pointed at Durin.
“Aldanon, I must insist otherwise,” Durin persuaded “This dwarf is nothing but trouble. And I’m sure all he wants to do with me is a tavern fight.” Aldanon’s expression firmed and the two dwarves’ animosity was stilled
“You must learn to overcome your differences, such as being a grey warden, Durin. And Oghren, while I don’t stand in your way during a fight, you’re no use to us fighting our own.” The rowdy dwarf grunted indifferently.
“As you wish, Warden. I won’t argue with you, and with darkspawn coming we can’t be divided, like you said.” Aldanon nodded in relief that the dwarf put his ill will aside, but he sensed that there would still be quarrel ahead. Jacques took over, and presented a set of ornately carved oxen horns to each member of the groups
“One more thing: take these war horns with you, if you’re attacked and find yourself hard-pressed we will come for you, and we would ask you to do the same in the event that we succumb to the enemy. Let us now go, the enemy awaits.” The others nodded, gathered their idle weapons and equipment packs and boldly set off through the doors upon their horses. But those steeds only dared to take them so far.

Out in the forests, there was clear evidence that the darkspawn taint was taking effect; all around him he could see animals dying from the infectious effects and some with a sinister glint in their eyes, the ground was rotting beneath Aldanon and fungi were popping up all over the place, and the trees grew mottled and started to block out the sun despite their leafless states. The air was heavy and still; a fell mist had risen up, cloaking the forest floor and clouding the way ahead. Elanea, who was taking the lead close to Aldanon, was convinced that it was not natural, and decided that it was darkspawn sorcery and had summoned a wolf to help fight alongside them. Geoffrey had his blade unsheathed throughout their mission; he could sense the taint all around him but not in the form of darkspawn; and less luck finding the intelligence. Osecar had ignited their blades and placed every enchantment he could upon him, nevertheless he was still very anxious. Maximus had taken a place alongside Elanea’s wolf, and soon started to get competitive, to attain the elven ranger’s attention; but her animal skills urged them to focus. Argeles had taken the rear, and kept his vision on the surrounding woods, but had not drawn his weapons yet. They had been on the track of the darkspawn horde and so far had only spotted scouts; they did not understand how the horde was able to move so stealthily. Aldanon moved at the head of the party, holding his hand up to signal to hold. Ahead, the forest seemed to go on forever, the darkness under the trees seemed to have intensified. Elanea’s keen elven senses tried to discern what lay within but could not see through.
 “There’s something out there, Aldanon. I can feel the taint stronger here, but I can also feel magic at work”
“Right, total and utter quiet, understand?” Aldanon whispered to his group, “So for instance if any one of us walks over any deadly thorns, they must on no account, go – AAAGGHH!!!!” he shrieked suddenly, stunning the other grey wardens as his foot came down on a small area of mist-covered ground.
“You just walked over a patch of thorns, Aldanon?” Argeles asked at his leader’s reaction to a few thorns.
“No, Argeles, I just put my toe in a cold puddle.” Argeles sighed at the sarcasm, but the others smiled at his wry humour, it always helped to have a leader with more to him than simply leadership.

Suddenly a surge of arrows greeted him, with an instant burst of reflex, his shield halted them. He lowered to see what hit him, and met something he knew only too well. A horde of charging hurlocks came crashing through. Their hideous, twisted, yet distinctly humanoid faces mirrored the aggression in which they charged as they raised their weapons to strike. Only to find their abdomens split by a deadly flashing blade. Aldanon raised his sword and with a great fury, felled the first wave, but more were emerging from the blackness.
“To arms, brothers and sisters!! For the Grey Wardens!!” he cried out, his voice hoarse from the effort. But not in vain, for Geoffrey had drew his chevalier mace as well and raised his shield. With the two shield-arms at the front, the darkspawn were effectively halted, but soon they began to swarm. With sword to slay, and mace to batter, the pair worked effectively. The two hounds were loosed upon them, coming from both sides by Elanea’s telepathic direction. Osecar’s spell might was like Aldanon had never seen, at first surges of lighting stunned the horde, followed by a blast of cold that froze more in their place, and then the grand finale; a fireball that sent both friends and foes to the ground. He was like a fireworks display, and he was proud of it. Elanea’s bow was out, and as the warriors fought arrows whistled past them and met their targets. “Shall we compete for points?” Aldanon thought he heard her call out to him. Argeles had drew his daggers, yet in a mad fury had charged right into the heart of the growing horde, but spun wildly and rapidly as darkspawn dared to take him down. In spite of it all, they still came. From the corner of her eye, Elanea could see Genlocks readying their arrows, and far ahead; a Hurlock Emissary. The others were locked in battle, but she was free. She sounded her horn.

“I don’t care that you think I’m a drunken sod, you’re still a stuck up square, Durin.” Oghren grumbled to his old rival, who was resting on a moss covered rock. As the group had taken to rest in a clearing in the forest after a minor, yet close fight with the darkspawn. Wynne had been tending a wound Jacques had sustained and Zevran was on lookout. Wynne had difficulty tolerating Oghren, but two of them were more than she could handle.
“Will you two could stop walloping your mouths together like loud, overgrown children?!” Wynne snapped angrily at the two dwarves, but they barely heard her. “We’re on a scouting mission right in the darkspawn’s claws, and you’re yelling out for our foes to come and catch us.” She returned to patching up Jacques’ wounds.
“If you hadn’t said my family had the military potential of a pickled herring, you wouldn’t have got that black eye, if I may remind you.” Durin said, as casually as he could to his rival. Oghren grumbled again.
“If you two dwarves would lay aside house differences for the tavern, we can see if we can get closer to the horde” Jacques said in a surprisingly impatient tone, the dwarves’ bickering had thinned his tolerance.
“Well, tough Jackie!” Oghren barked rudely “You’re gonna get a lot of it!” Jacques maintained his composure and refused to challenge the dwarf and returned to his vigil. But Zevran had joined in, unable to resist.
“Come on, at the very least, we should be aware for any signs of enemy movement,” he remarked to the group
“You mean like when a guy is aware that he agreed to teach his friend some Orlesian social graces but instead teaches him a load of nug-crap?” Oghren challenged Zevran spitefully, bitter memories of the incident with him.
“I didn’t know you were upset about that” he said trying to calm the dwarf’s temper.
“Really? Did you miss all the subtle signs like me saying ‘Zevran, I am going to kill you!’?”
“Okay sorry.” The elf defended, surprised at the dwarf’s amounting rage, but it was to no avail
“Maybe it means something different on the surface, back in Orzammar it means you’re upset with a guy named Zevran!!” he added callously, Zevran’s tanned face started to show a tint of anger.
“I said I’m sorry!!” he said defensively, an unnaturally offended tone taking over.
“‘Sorry’ doesn’t make up for the fact that I had to explain to the guards what actually happened in Orlesian! Do you know what Orlesian guards punish you for disturbing the peace? Public disgrace!!!” his voice rose to a roar
“Well, do you think I was having fun trying to explain to those Orlesian ladies ‘why I had to fart so much?’?”
“BY. THE. STONE! You are such a womanizer!” he raged at Zevran, raising his fist to knock him senseless.
“Silence! Both on you!” Jacques shouted over the battling comrades, and calmed down “I heard something.” The rest of the group became still. They tried to listen out and look out for signs of darkspawn. No one was particularly strong at listening out. Wynne, ever ready with a wise word to suit every moment made her say.
“This is what happens when you place your hands over your ears when friends are in need.” She scolded to the bickering dwarves and elf. But no one was listening. Everyone looked about to find the source of the sound of the enemy. But no one could pinpoint the sound. Suddenly a horn sounded to the east. Aldanon was in danger!

The hurlocks were running through the tangled labyrinth of trees now, encircling them. Sweat and exhaustion was pouring down Aldanon, but mixed with the black blood of the darkspawn, it burned at his skin. Suddenly he could see it, and emissary preparing a surge of tempest lighting was gathering. He broke from the line he and Geoffrey had formed, and charged straight through the horde, his shield knocking unwary darkspawn as he charged. With a great cry, the darkspawn cowered. The emissary noticed Aldanon and aimed its staff. He raised his sword and clove the staff in two, the shock of the impact knocking the sorcerer back, just as he gathered momentum to strike, an arrow pierced its head and through its brain. The momentum put into the blow was wasted, and now he was surrounded by the strongest of the enemy, and exhaustion threatened to overcome him.
“Aldanon is trapped by the darkspawn!” Geoffrey called back to the other wardens “Elanea, shoot them from afar! Osecar, use your ice spells!” The rest of the group mobilized. Argeles’ daggers cut a path through the hurlocks like scythes on a blackened harvest. Elanea jumped into the trees, dispatching the genlock archers with her arrows, Osecar drew his sword and joined the charge, incanting an ice spell in his head. Geoffrey’s mace had knocked many a darkspawn aside, and the two hounds managed to overwhelm the Hurlock alphas that had targeted Aldanon. Geoffrey and Argeles rushed to Aldanon’s side, but the circle of darkspawn had closing around them. Suddenly a blast of cold had frozen them all in their steps; Osecar had cast a blizzard around the group. To his left, Osecar could see genlocks dropping from their hiding places like birds put to sleep by one of his sleep spells, arrows protruding from their chests. And to his further surprise, Elenea dropped to his side.

Though they were surrounded, they would at least reduce the darkspawn horde considerably. Suddenly, the darkspawn turned to see something was striking them from behind. This was their chance; for without a moment’s warning, Aldanon, the wardens, and the hounds charged. The monsters were caught by surprise as fierce foes were felling them on all fronts. Wynne cast her strongest rejuvenation spell, and so they were restored in health and energy, Durin charged through them as if they weren’t there, his axe cleaving into them, Zevran crisscrossed through them like a fox after prey, thrusting his daggers in their hides as they went. Leaderless and surrounded, the horde retreated, swords, daggers and maces breasting them as they fled. Aldanon and Argeles’ war furies seemed to fell darkspawn in their wake, Osecar’s great fireballs seared through the trees as they fled and scattered until only a few remained. The rest of the group took a moment to collect their strength as soon as the darkspawn retreated. As soon as Aldanon had gathered his strength, he summoned them to his side.
“You have my thanks for the timely arrival, Jacques,” he took the Marquis hand and clasped it rigidly, and turned towards the fleeing darkspawn “Now then, let us follow those darkspawn and give them a taste of our united valour!” He raised his sword, cried out and charged as fast as his armoured body could carry him.

The darkspawn were quicker than they had given them credit for, yet their retreat seemed more tactical than out of defeat. Yet through the twisting trails of the forest, Aldanon and his companions continued to pursue them.
“I can sense a stronger presence of the taint up ahead, Aldanon,” Geoffrey warned Aldanon in a worn out voice as they ran, “We should try and move around them and locate the source of their leadership. This was no ordinary attack they launched. It was an ambush; they wanted to strike us while we were divided.”
“I agree with Geoffrey,” Argeles concurred, “We need to find their leaders, and try to work out their strategy.”
“Elanea, have you scouted this part of the forest before?” Aldanon asked the ranger urgently “What lies ahead? Were there less darkspawn before?” The group stopped short and allowed Elanea to trace her memory.
“There were less darkspawn when I last scouted the area,” she calculated, “ahead of us is a large valley, my best estimate is that the darkspawn have set up camp there.” She took lead of the group, and they trekked silently across the forest tracks. The remaining hurlocks had completely vanished from view, but their tracks remained, Elanea was able to trace them and pinpoint where they went. She could not risk the whole group trying to spy on the horde, so called forth Aldanon, Geoffrey and Osecar to try and monitor the horde. She guided them as noiselessly as they could through to a thicket to an overhanging precipice that gave way to the valley. The sight was terrifying. Within the valley the trees had been felled and the land was tainted black by the presence of the darkspawn that were assembling there. Campfires were set where idle darkspawn rested and temporary forges fuelled by the surrounding forest. There were even machines in the valley, catapults and battering rams being crafted by genlocks and hauled out of the valley by ogres. It was more like an organised military camp than a chaotic darkspawn conglomeration. More seemed to be pouring into and out of the valley, but there appeared to be a group of darkspawn that remained at the centre of the valley. Elanea could also spot a more prominent figure; what appeared to be a Hurlock, clad in chainmail armour and surrounded by Hurlock alphas and emissaries. Amid the loud clamour of the darkspawn, they picked out something that truly shocked them; words. This darkspawn spoke, in common tongue as well. There was little they could truly pick out, but still they tried.
“The wardens will be strong, but we still outnumber them.” He spoke in a harsh, guttural voice, yet with a clear note of intelligence, “Situate the pikes along the northern flank of the army; the chevaliers must be kept at bay. Move the archers up first; ignite their arrows and move the catapults up. We bombard them and break their walls and burn their city. If the walls are not breached, sent in the ogre ram and break the gates.” He gestured to his right, and to their horror, a brigade of armour-clad ogres lumbered through the trees, and unarmoured ones bearing the siege weapons out of the valley. He drew out a black horn, carved from an ogre’s horn, and its harsh sounding erupted through the forest. The darkspawn within the valley gathered to arms at once, swarming out of the valley. Aldanon was reminded of the darkspawn in the deep roads that mustered to the Archdemon’s call and marched out under the lead of the archdemon. They had their information, now they had to return.

[MireliA]

In the earlier chapter, the way you've written Marjolaine is beginning to remind me of Flemeth.



I liked the argument between the dwarves and Zevran. Well written as always

[Maximus741000]

Time to update the story, I think. Things started to slip up a bit but I'll be back on target soon.

The Trap

Leliana’s sense of danger was amounting to great levels, perhaps worse than the times when she was with Aldanon. The spy was definitely one of Marjolaine’s, he had to be. The Orlesian authorities would have either arrested her earlier or ignored her, rather than resort to spies. She had been on the track of the spy since he spotted her in the gardens and pursued him through the night and the majority of the day, but found no trace of him. She dared not ask any of the townsfolk or guards of a man by the spy’s description. There was a fear strangling her heart. It made her stop to calm down, and try to turn away from her hunt. She had not felt like this before, she had faced situations worse than this, but had always faced them down valiantly because she knew Aldanon was always there, and others. She had hunted other men and large groups of them by herself before, but there was a sense of dread that stilled her movements. As if the same voice that had spoken to her in her vision was warding her away. This is ridiculous! she thought, the mad fear driving her to a rising anger, I am a bard of Orlais, I am no coward! I should not be frightened by some childlike fear of my seniors. She stopped, urgently trying to collect her thoughts; this was so much easier with other people to keep an eye on her. Now what was her original ruthless self had been replaced by a different Leliana, one raised by the Chantry and tempered by Aldanon, his companions and the war; she seemed to have become less independent and more orienteered towards teamwork, as a result she was less sure of her herself. She knew that there was a greater plan in stall for her in Marjolaine’s mind, but determination to end her enemy’s threat drove her on. In hindsight, she should have called for help.

Leliana kept down her path through the twisting alleyways of the city, she had an indication that the spy came down that area. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him, the spy. He ran the opposite way, and she darted after him. His light leathers did allow him to run quite fast, but not for long. She drew out her bow as she ran, aiming an arrow to cripple him at the heel, so that she could question him. All of the sudden, he stopped in his tracks as she ran towards him and threw a handful of dust at her face, temporarily stunning her and knocking her bow aside in the process. As soon as her sight returned, she shot out for him, cursing as she went, she should have seen it coming. She continued to chase him as she readied her bow. Suddenly he turned onto another alley, just as she had fired the arrow. She cursed under her breath, and gathered speed and momentum as she started out for him. She took the turn. The Orlesian guards blocked the way, and she recognised their leader; Captain Detrer. The same man who apprehended her in the streets of Val Royeaux the same day Marjolaine betrayed her. She was also still done for treason on top of her other alleged crimes. Her limbs lost all strength as she turned to see another patrol of guards blocking her way. The ring of swords being drawn chilled her to the marrow. Callous grins creased across their faces as she realised she had betrayed her emotions and gasped in terror.
“Leliana, in the name of law and the Orlesian monarchy,” he announced smugly “I am placing you under arrest for murder, treason, and theft. Surrender and mercy may be granted. That is unless your captors have their way.” Just as he finished, a band of red steel clad anderfel mercenaries unexpectedly arrived at the backs of the guards. Among them was a tevinter leather-clad rogue, the same as the one who she had spotted in the gardens and the same one who she was chasing through the city, and with him was a giant of an anderfel warrior with a huge axe.
“I told you if we alerted the guards we would be able to capture her, Aundar, rather than just take her by the legs.” The rogue said with just as much smugness as captain Detrer. Aundar merely glared and grunted gruffly.
“Tell me, rogue,” Detrer addressed the tevinter, “How shall the City Guard of Val Royeaux reward you for warning us and aiding us in the capture of this dangerous criminal? It can be anything; gold, weapons, respect from the nobility?” Iūrups thought complacently but Leliana interrupted fiercely, her courage restored.
“You just be careful of what you’re saying, Captain!” She yelled, confident and asserted. “You forget that I travelled for a time with the Hero of Ferelden, I have friends in high places who will not turn a blind eye on me.”
“You are no hero in Orlais.” He said self-righteously, ever advancing on her “And it’s the law here that decides, specifically his Majesty Emperor Claude d’Aubrac on behalf of Empress Celene; not the will of foreign kings. The man whom you speak of wields no true power so far as I understand; ‘king’ Aldanon is no more than a consort.” He added callously, pleased to see it had a disheartening effect on her.
“Enough!” Iūrups interrupted the foul captain keenly, “You asked us of how to reward us, we want only one thing: Her. Nothing else; just her.” Leliana’s eyes widened in shock and horror as the mercenaries’ faces flashed with sadistic pleasure. Her vulnerable expression hardened with rage as she drew her bow.
“The law dictates that a criminal passes into the hands of the law, tevinter.” Detrer said cogently. “But if you intend to do with the prisoner as you see fit, then I see no real reason to stand in your way, she’s yours.” He shook his hands with Iūrups, and the tevinter and his henchmen closed in on their target eagerly.
“You can’t allow this mockery of justice to be dispensed, Captain Detrer!” she called out to him as he departed with his soldiers, leaving her to them, “There is no fairness or justice in leaving anyone to die at false hands!”
“Cease your crying, worthless baggage.” Aundar menaced, his great bulk blocking out the sun, “We will offer you a chance to come with us willingly and spare you the pain. If not, we will use force and drag you back.” he drew his notched battle axe, continuing to advance. Leliana's courage suddenly kindled like fire from ashes.
“You can try,” she said craftily, sensing an opportunity, “But you’ll never catch me.”

As she said this, she ran towards Aundar and somersaulted right over his head, landing behind him. Before they could surround her again, Leliana drew her twin daggers and swiped ad Aundar’s chainmail hauberk and sliced it open. The warrior reeled back and she retreated down the alley where the guards had left. The mercenaries charged after her, but erroneously. For she had tossed a fire grenade where they came, setting their resistant armour alight. As they stumbled to put their fires out, she drew her bow, fired four arrows, and the four targets collapsed like overstuffed bags of flour. More of them charged, and in response she drew out a smoke grenade and threw it to the floor. Her enemies were not only blind to her movements, but some were even stumbling into the fire. Aundar’s great bulk was so large, that his mere presence was able to dispel the blinding effect of the smoke. As soon as it had evaporated away, he turned his attention to his far left; she leapt up onto the next building and scaled its walls. But Aundar anticipated this; he nodded to Iūrups and his accomplice leapt up after her onto the wall. Leliana was almost halfway up the wall, but Iūrups drew out a dagger with a green tinted blade, he swiped at her shin. She cried out in pain, but kept climbing in spite of the pain. Before she could reach the top, a terrible tiredness overcame her; she was struggling to keep her eyes open, her muscles weakened and her head seared with pain as if she had woken up after a whole flagon of dwarf ale. She could not sustain her escape, she could not resist the effects of what must have been poison; the effect was just like the time when she succumbed to the Sloth Demon’s sleep spell. She fell from the wall and into her enemy’s hands. One of the mercenaries drew out a large sack, and Aundar loaded her unconscious body into the sack, taking care to have a moment to relish in her body while she was unconscious, smiling with heartless satisfaction as his hand moved across her.
“Let us return, to Marjolaine we will take her.” He announced to his brethren, and to his word they pillaged the bodies of their comrades, and took their bodies, as per François orders; to take any body off the street.
“What did I tell you,” Iūrups took this chance to revel in his success, “We tell the guards that there’s trouble from her returning, with the aid of the Mistress’s connection with the Captain who arrested her and of these letters with the Duke’s name on them, we were abound to get their aid. Now the conquest of Orlais begins.” In her sleep-induced state, Leliana’s inner core attempted to answer the call to life in vain, and only one thought governed her mind: Aldanon.

Modifié par Maximus741000, 20 mars 2010 - 10:33 .

[Sisimka]

Oh no! I thought Leliana was going to get away and I was cheering. And then she didn't. Poor Leli, don't harm her or Aedan will come find you!!



Also, I enjoyed seeing Aldanon get down to military business in the previous chapter. The darkspawn are not on the run though...

[MireliA]

Leliana! It was looking like she'd bested them as well

[Maximus741000]

@ Sismka, fear not, I have no such intentions of killing her off at this point, just capture as you can see. I too agree it was time Aldanon went down onto military business.

And don't send Aedan! I'll simply dispatch Aldanon to my defence, and the two Couslands will result in a stalemate.

@Mirelia, well it was only fair that she put up a fight before succumbing to the enemy.

Thanks for maintaining interest in the story! Stay Tuned!

[Maximus741000]

Emotion in Conflict

As soon as the darkspawn army had mobilised, Aldanon and his group made as hasty retreat from the forests as fast possible, doing their best to evade the spies of the darkspawn such as genlocks and shrieks. The day seemed to be darkening early, and under the forest trees it almost seemed like a starless night. The familiar dark clouds that heralded the presence of darkspawn and blocked out the sun hung over them, ever advancing towards Val Royeaux. Once out of the forest and into the farmland, they started to encounter streams of refugees leaving the countryside by horse, mule and cart, often escorted by a small detachment of the Empress’s chevaliers, all heading towards the city in order to get beyond the reach of the horde.

At times, Aldanon would catch the faces of the people, the folk of Orlais whom he barely knew, yet was told to defend; they were not his people, but he was prepared to fight and potentially die for them to protect humanity from the darkspawn. Their faces were on the whole a mixture of grief, fear, despair, bitterness, and angst; yet amidst the atmosphere of despair that hung over them like the dark clouds in the sky, some souls held resistant courage and even pride in the faces of probable death, inspiring their fellows to resist the dark pallor and have courage. Inside, Aldanon ardently approved; he was reminded that so much courage could be found in the least likely of places, so Duncan had told him once when he told him about how he met Alistair. He also remembered that part of his duty to Orlais and the Wardens was the willingness to face death. After all, Ferelden did not truly need him, Queen Anora could govern the land, whether by popular rule or not. He was in the end, no more than a glorified general, than a true king or warrior, he never truly proved he was more than the image of Cailan was. Should Anora have given the order, he would march to war in knowing the odds against him. He needed to speak to Wynne about this.

                                                                                   +++++++++++++

By the time they reached the city walls, the army was almost ready to receive the darkspawn. The chevlaiers had all assembled at the top of the hill. Charles was waiting for him at the city gates, his heavy dragonbone armour glowing with a tint of sunset red giving him a more invigorated image in spite of his age, Duke d’Aubrac was there with him in his royal heavy chainmail. Aldanon moved ahead of the group to address the senior warden.
 “Welcome back,” Charles greeted Aldanon with a clasping of hands “we were afraid that you may have been attacked or had lost someone during the task. Did you find anything that could give us an insight on the enemy?”
“We were attacked a few times, even ambushed. But judging by the number of dead darkspawn in that area, I would imagine at least a whole patrol.” Aldanon said, his face showing the signs that he had witnessed a dragon attack “I must speak with you regarding the leadership of the darkspawn and their plan of attack, in private.”
“You found the darkspawn leader. I understand?” Charles asked the young warden, “Meet me at my tent, and bring anyone else who saw this darkspawn. The rest of your group will have to rest for now, and receive the Duke’s orders for the battle when night falls.” He turned to retire to his tent, but the Duke’s hand stayed him.
“Perhaps if I may share words with the Warden first, before you lecture him. I have some news for him of the direst urgency.” Charles looked at him bewildered, the Duke had wanted little to do with Aldanon until now, and why he suddenly wanted to speak to him now was anyone’s guess. Aldanon’s anxiety acted up again.

“Aldanon has tactical evidence which I will reveal to you as soon as I am finished speaking with him. Wait awhile.” The Duke’s will to remain unnerved stayed his urgency, and he left to rejoin his soldiers. Aldanon gestured to Osecar, Elanea and Geoffrey to follow him to Charles’ tent. As they entered the city, he continued to feel the Duke’s cold, vindictive, remorseless eyes piercing into him. His unease even spread to the other members of his group, each reacting to Aldanon’s sudden loss of confidence in hushed tones.
“The Duke really doesn’t like him, does he?” Osecar divulged with Elanea, who frowned at the notion.
“Well he is acting as if he’s entitled to power within Orlais,” Geoffrey said in response, experience as a chevalier behind his voice “the Duke won’t like that, he’s been covetous of his power. Aldanon should be more careful.”
“Regardless, from what I’ve heard of the Duke, he’s been accused of wielding more power than he’s entitled unjustly.” Elanea countered hotly Geoffrey, her expression coagulated with anger in memory “Look what he did to that elf the other day! Had Aldanon not interfered, the Duke would have had him flayed!” They continued down towards Charles’ tent, and Aldanon continued to feign little interest; but in truth his companions’ approval heartened him.

                                                                                   +++++++++++++

“What you saw, are you certain of what it was?” Charles had questioned the witnesses to the intelligent darkspawn ceaselessly since Aldanon’s group arrived and settled down in his tent. “There can be no mistakes, but if it truly is the source of intelligence in the darkspawn’s army, then were it to fall in battle, the horde may, hopefully, break with its commander dead. But to that end we will all have to be extra careful, and treat the darkspawn as a tactical, thinking enemy, as opposed to a monster force.”
“Indeed, Charles,” Aldanon agreed unenthusiastically, but his interest for battle against his old foes rose up inside him “Nevertheless, I trust that the information my team and I gathered will prove useful?” he asked.
“It will be, perhaps you will play a significant part in the leader’s defeat. With the information you’ve gathered about their strategy, we’ll be able to find a way to oppose them.”

“I’m still unnerved about this intelligent darkspawn,” Osecar joined in fearfully, “it behaved like a proper general and their army was far better equipped than most darkspawn we’ve ever met.”
“Regardless, if you hadn’t stopped me from shooting the leader, Osecar, the enemy would be without a commander by now.” Elenea bristled at the elven mage; Osecar merely frowned at her unnecessary brazenness.
“It may have also alerted the darkspawn of your presence and set the whole horde upon you.” Charles said tolerantly, “On the walls of the city and with the army, we all stand a better chance of ending the horde.” He rose from his chair and wandered to his map of the city and picked up a scroll from which he was writing on, “Geoffrey, take these instructions back to the Duke; they’re my recommendations for how to counter the horde’s manoeuvres and a proposed plan of how to kill the intelligent darkspawn; one that you will be part in, Aldanon.” Aldanon’s brow shot up keenly, he rose up from his chair and examined the scroll in Charles’ hands.

“Well, this shouldn’t be too hard, all I have to do is... wait a moment,” he read further and his brow shot up once again, this time with a mixture of tension and doubt. “You want me to go into the field and kill this darkspawn commander? Where he’ll likely be surrounded by the toughest darkspawn and be hard to beat in combat?”
“If you can’t kill it, Aldanon, no one can.” The elder warden urged, “The hope is that the darkspawn will break without a leader to direct them. My confidence is with you in this, and rest assured you will not do this alone.” Aldanon would have protested that he was king of Ferelden and not meant to fight on the front line, but now was time to be a grey warden. He had almost believed that the days of charging into the enemy’s interior were over.
“I will do this, Commander Charles,” he said at last, with a hint of minor reluctance. “When do I set forth?”
“Wait until the battle begins, there will be a postern gate in the southern wall, the Ferelden knights will be with you. You will need to try and isolate the commander and do battle with it. If you cannot find a way to battle it on its own, retreat back to the city and aid with the defence. But for now, take some time to rest.”

                                                                                   +++++++++++++

Aldanon was now left on his own, Charles words echoing in his ears. He wouldn’t have imagined that this was his purpose for coming to Orlais; though he didn’t blame Charles for the ill coincidence, he did regret that the war against the darkspawn was far from over. What made the mission difficult for him was the unease he felt about this intelligent darkspawn; it seemed more powerful than anything he had ever faced. There was also the same feeling he had felt about the battle being akin to Ostagar, normally he would face battle valiantly and with a level of eagerness, yet tempered with war rage, now there was apprehension and disquiet in his heart.
“Is there something on your mind?” a gentle voice flowed to his ears, it was Wynne. She was always his best source of advice when they were battling the Blight, and she always agreed to his actions, words and deeds.
“Wynne, I feel at loss about the battle to come,” he said morosely, “normally I’m prepared to face my foe with all due courage, but this feels too much like Ostagar. Do you think that the Orlesian Wardens expect too much of me?” he beckoned her to sit down beside him, as she listened to him, her face understood his sorrow.

“Your reputation as the Hero of Ferelden has given people the impression that you’re almost invincible.” She said in an even voice, “But your anxiety is not unnecessary; I too feel that this is too close to the disaster of Ostagar. You’ve never shunned your duties to the Wardens and Ferelden, so why do you doubt yourself now?”
“I don’t honestly know, at times I feel as though I’ve failed my lot in life. At one point, I felt satisfied in battle, believing that I would reap something from it. Do you believe that one should have time to gather his strength?”
“Yes I do, provided they use it wisely, spend it with friends and family, and not spend it idly.” She said simply.
“I’ve been beginning to feel dissatisfaction, but I know I shouldn’t be. It’s just that -” He paused suddenly, he adjusted his seeking and looked into Wynne’s deep blue eyes with sincerity and longing, “I am still a grey warden above all else, and there was no reason to be grieved if I died. I know you’ve told me to take heart in my duties, but now there’s little left for me other than duty. My queen may not truly love me, my friends have scattered to do their duty, and for all my fame and respect, I still long to have a family again. All that made life more precious; family, love, a life in company of friends; all that was gone because he had either spurned or lost it. Perhaps it’s just me being too craving, but so far that’s what’s been on my mind lately. I know it shouldn’t be.” Wynne stared at him stunned, this is the first time in a while that Aldanon had opened his thoughts out to her. She shook her head slowly, as if she was struggling to process Aldanon’s discourse, and tears formed.
“Oh, who are you and what have you done to Aldanon?” she sighed in despair, but held his hands comfortingly “You were never one to lose hope in war;” she said kindly at first, but her voice soon hardened, “you’re not going to give up on my watch! You’ve always cared for all around you, there was never a time when you abandoned them. So why surrender to your inner feelings now? The darkspawn have returned in force.”

“I know that, Wynne, but...” he stopped at loss for words again, his face was clouded by suppressed emotion, “Ever since Morrigan abandoned me at the end of the war, I felt as if she had never really cared for me, merely used me as a tool, in spite of all the defences I had to put up in her favour. You and I clashed often over her.”
“We did, but I overcame my worries about her when I realised you loved her.” She said calmly, her eyes lost in ill memory of when Aldanon and she argued about Morrigan, and how she warned him that she could use him.
“Since then,” Aldanon resumed, “I come to realise that my love for others and their love for me is my strength, but of late there’s been little of it because there’s no one else left. Morrigan never loved me, and was insistent that we avoid it, but now I realise that Leliana may have actually loved me, and I spurned her because I did not love her. I was a fool. I still am.” Wynne’s eyes narrowed on him, trying to study what was going on in his mind. When Aldanon looked tearfully up at them, they were a combination of pity, disappointment and understanding.
“You loved Leliana as a friend; did you ever love her as more?” she asked, the tiny, insignificant notion being mulled over in her wise mind. A future of what could have been yet wasn’t due to one man’s misunderstanding. “I’m not sure you ever could have been; your plans to rule alongside Queen Anora would have made things very difficult for you and her. You knew the marriage to Anora was little other than a political measure, yet resolution drove you to consent to it because you thought that Alistair would not have made a good king.” When she finished, Aldanon looked as if he had been dosed with an even unhealthier quantity of the darkspawn taint.

“Did I do the right thing though, taking the throne? What do I do from now on? When King Maric reclaimed the throne, he had Lady Rowan as his source of strength throughout the war and his reign. Did she give him strength during his most trying of hours?” he questioned her, his eyes eager for answers. For a moment, Wynne searched her conscience for the right answers, ones that held both wisdom and reasonable ground.
“You did what you judged to be right,” she said clearly and after a long while, “using your noble birthright to serve as a guardian to the throne hopefully until another heir of Maric’s succeeds you. Maric certainly did find that Rowan sustained him, she would give him strength when he most needed it, perhaps you are in need of such thing. As for how you can overcome this sudden arrival of despair; try to train yourself to let go of these feelings, let your old passions for battle arise in you again and serve as your guardians, attempt to put the past behind you, and above all; you are no fool. You’ve remembered the lessons I taught you, but applying them has only become slightly problematic. Just remember, you will always have my support, and that of all those who travel with you now.” She patted him on the shoulders, and he held on to her hand. Aldanon continued to stare sullenly at the floor, but Wynne sensed that he was in thought and left him. Long after Wynne left, something caught his eye; Duke d’Aubrac was waiting to speak to him.

[MireliA]

I didn't expect that from Aldanon. As Wynne says, who are you and what have you done to Aldanon... Poor man

[Sisimka]

In introspective moment. Aldanon has a lot of depth to him.

[Maximus741000]

Thank you for the feedback, ladies, really though it's the encouragement I hoped for, : )

I was hoping this chapter would create more depth for Aldanon's character that he was hindered by his decisions as opposed to being genuinely weak.

[Maximus741000]

And now, ladies and gentlemen, Aldanon fights alone in the very depths of Marjolaine's trap.

Upon the Walls

Duke Claude d’Aubrac seemed surprisingly at ease as he walked with him to the walls of the city to witness the scene of the chevaliers on the march northwards. With the information they gathered, they rearranged the strategy as to ensure that the cavalry weren’t skewered by the pikes; they would go north and gallop around the horde to the rearmost flank and then charge. d’Aubrac said he would join them as soon as the battle commences, and would ensure Aldanon would not perish. But assurances meant little to Aldanon now.
“You said you wanted to speak to me?” Aldanon asked impassively, as he observed the silver column of chevaliers assembling, their armour reflecting the tint of sunset gold in the late afternoon.
“We have only a short time before the battle commences, my captain’s estimate roughly two hours. But there is something you may want to do.” Aldanon stirred slightly, looking him in the eye. “One of my men within the city watch has an interesting report. One of their captains, Detrer has arrested a former companion of yours: Leliana.” No sooner had he said this word, Aldanon ignited into action, his face was a portrait of urgency, yet one that deeply concealed greater emotional attachment. “She’s been taken by a sect of criminals whom my men and I have been hunting since a week before you arrived. We’ve pinpointed their base; a decrepit old warehouse. We also suspect that now that they’ve captured her, they will not be anticipating an attack. I don’t suppose you know why they would capture a citizen of Orlais and hold her to ransom, do you?” his eyes seemed to search him for the truth, but Aldanon’s expression was one of resistance and faced down the Duke’s analytical eyes which seemed to be masking something.

“All I remember of her the last time we spoke,” Aldanon said pensively “was that she was intent of hunting down a fellow Orlesian bard called Marjolaine. Do you know of anyone by the name of Marjolaine, your grace?”
“I do indeed. In fact, I suspect she’s the one behind her capture and responsible for numerous other crimes that have been taking place in the city, including murder, theft and a long history of intrigue within the city.”
“What I’m curious of is why you suppose I would be involved; I have a duty to do. I will not shirk it” he said
“Because the consequences of letting her die are more severe aren’t they? Could you live with her death on your conscience knowing that you could have prevented it?” he asked Aldanon, his tone seemed enticing and exposing, as if trying to get Aldanon to agree. Another short while passed, and he continued to explore the Duke’s words; they seemed too ideal, too convenient. There was something amiss, the hope that he could find Leliana rekindled inside him, but the message signalling trap had sounded in his head. The duke continued to speak for a while, but Aldanon had already slipped into deep thought; if she was in danger his inaction would result in most likely her death, but if he acted he would be late for the battle. He needed to tell one of his friends, this was no trivial task.
“I can give you directions to where Marjolaine is based,” he said in a cool yet persuasive voice, one which Aldanon was beginning to become curious of, “I would advise taking a few of my own soldiers for your defence. If you can save her within the first hour and a half, you can be back for the beginning of the battle.” Aldanon thought for a few moments, the notion to acquire another ally seemed sensible enough, and he was normally more than a match for standard mercenaries, he never saw Marjolaine in battle, but could imagine her skill.

“Very well,” he said at last, in a voice that was half sigh and half mild agreement. “I will see what I can do, perhaps I can negotiate something before it gets out of hand. But I should take one of my companions with me.”
“No!” the Duke’s voice rose to a startling shout in protest, Aldanon was so stunned he jerked backwards, “They will not agree to accompany you. They will think you’re shirking your duty.” But questions kept surging in.
“Yes but I am shirking my duty; and you are as well by convincing me to partake in this. Neither of us can know for certain if the report is genuine. Why would your men take interest of why one of my old allies is there?”
“It’s your choice in the end,” he said in a legitimately sincere voice, one that prevented question. “I am only offering a chance to save a friend. Have we not been rivals too long?” Aldanon stared across the field to where the darkspawn would soon approach. For a long time he could see nothing beyond the darkening trees. A torch appeared, and another, and suddenly many more appeared in the distance. Time was running out.
“Very well,” he said in a defeated tone, knowing what he was prepared to do. “I will go alone. Do not make me regret this, d’Aubrac. And vitally, it this is some sort of trick, which I’m very prepared for, you will die.”

                                                                                       ++++++++++

Every fibre of being that was just and lawful in Aldanon’s body was blaring out in his mind to abandon the rash course of leaving the army to chase a fool’s errand, but still he went on. His assigned guards seemed no better at ease, but their agitations were due to being away from their lord, and presumably fear for their futures by abandoning their duties. The weather did not help either, the fell pall of the darkspawn clouds hung over the city, blotting out the early stars and the moon, and the high buildings blotted out even more of the sky, reducing it to meagre strips of navy blue and black. The guards told him that they were nearing the warehouse, but it did not make Aldanon feel any less self-doubting. And then they arrived, around the turn of another alley they came to the dilapidated strip of unused buildings that were marked on his map as the base. The city was completely darkened, now. One of the more prominent ones, a tall wooden structure with a largely missing roof, was identified as the one. Aldanon’s heart pounded in alarm, but his will strove to overcome it, he was armed with his best swords; Maric’s Blade and Starfang, his Royal Golden Armour and Cailan’s Shield. He was a veteran of battle and prepared for anything, the mercenaries could harm him but could not possibly risk it without their lives being utterly destroyed.

But the atmosphere was more forbidding than anything he’d encountered within bounds of a city. It was cold, the nightfall air was soundless and windless with the pall of the darkspawn rolling across the sky, but Aldanon’s very blood had frozen still, parts of his armour chinked together as he suppressed shivers. There was even a sense of dread and cruelty around the very building; the same he felt when he entered the Circle Tower when the abominations were on the loose. There was dark magic at work, demons were approaching. Everything was eerie, twisted and unnatural, and as if he were being deceived and losing his way and letting the darkness claim him. Every reason the retreat seemed imperative, but the hope that Leliana might be saved forced him to keep going.

                                                                                       ++++++++++

He continued on the beaten pathway towards a rotten wooden door that must have been the entrance. He raised his gauntleted hand to knock, but no answer came. “Marjolaine!” he called out to the void, his voice ringing clear, “I am Aldanon Cousland, Hero and King of Ferelden, slayer of the Archdemon. You have captured a dear friend of mine, and I would request that you surrender her to my safekeeping, lest you suffer the full extent of my wrath. Surrender her to me and mercy may be shown to you by both Ferelden and Orlesian courts, succumb to bloodshed and I will fight to free her. Let us settle this in a civilized way.” A period of silence passed and nothing happened and his fear amounted; what was she playing at? Suddenly the silence was broken; the noises of movement descended upon him. From the corner of his eye he saw movement on the walls and behind him. A great band of Anderfel mercenaries had cut off his retreat and were lead by a giant of their kind who appeared more beastlike than human, scores of archers had lined the walls, and a mage with a glowing magical wisp around him grinned pitilessly. Aldanon called to his guards but they had left his sides. He was trapped.
“Kill him.” The mage announced to his minions. Aldanon snarled in defiance and donned his helmet.

                                                                                       ++++++++++

They charged, their great red hauberks swept towards him like a red tide, roaring from the bottom of their lungs, for they were consumed by a savage rage that was akin to a berserkers, yet more feral than enraged. Behind him, the aged mage started to ready a spell of lightning. However, he would not go down without a fight. Aldanon charged, with every ounce of strength and valour in him, he charged. Swinging Maric’s Blade in a wide arc, the charge was halted as two fell as he swiped at their necks. The survivors’ weapons came down upon him in subsequence, but many a blow was parried, he held his shield in guard and swayed Maric’s Blade at the joints in their armour, where it was weakest. Aldanon had gathered all his war rage, and he yelled to the heavens; all around him the enemy shuddered in surprise around him. Once he realised that a few had cowered, he smote them with a blow of the shield to the head and his magical sword into their bowels. Though he was equipped for the worst of situations, he was still alone and the enemy were many in number.

Then they came, barbed arrows of the mercenary archers; his shield deflected the ones to his front, but the ones to the rear had pierced the back of his armour. A stabbing pain assaulted his left armpit, an arrow had gone through the protective mail and into the lower part of his shield arm; his guard was now weakened. Suddenly a heavy blow knocked him to the floor; his shield had stopped the brunt of it, but he was winded and the mercenary leader, the wolfish one, was leaning over him with his huge war axe. It came down on him again, but reflex saved him again for he had rolled to the other side. He regained his footing and engaged the leader. His heavy strikes put a heavy toll on his weakened shield arm, but Aldanon thanked the Maker his sword was still strong. He applied more muscle to each strike, accessed a stamina potion and a healing potion from his pack while the Anderfel man was stunned by his shield and breasted him back. With a blasting blow of his shield, the leader was knocked back; Aldanon gathered momentum to finish him off, but the others rushed towards him.

The following moments were ones of extreme pain; with each blow Aldanon’s armour was being sundered. Those whose guard was let down he struck down upon, but their weapons continued to assail him. He roared in rage again and let it fuel him, in his pain and wrath more fell. But in a moment of waning, they fell back. Aldanon turned to the mage and the archers. They fired; the force of all their arrows sending him to the floor his chest pierced by many light wounds. The mage’s power came down; a column of fire rose up. His dragonbone armour was put to the test, but the intensity managed to lick into his flesh and burn it. He mustered himself to charge once again, but in vain for his stamina was spent. Suddenly he was knocked down – an axe had caught his leg. He turned to see the Anderfel leader’s axe raised; he strained to move away – but a glowing cage had frozen him. He was paralysed. The axe descended upon him and he knew and fought no more.

Modifié par Maximus741000, 23 mars 2010 - 10:52 .

[MireliA]

Great fight sequences



But why did Aldanon listen to that snake d'Aubrac?

[Maximus741000]

@ Mirelia, I'm glad you liked the fight sequences, a lot of planning went into them. : )

As for why Aldanon listened to d'Aubrac, well other than plot reasons it was because of the possibility that Leliana could be saved, as well as overconfidence in his abilities, and he did not believe he would be betrayed. Honestly, I would say Aldanon does love Leli.

[MireliA]

Maximus741000 wrote...

@ Mirelia, I'm glad you liked the fight sequences, a lot of planning went into them. : )
As for why Aldanon listened to d'Aubrac, well other than plot reasons it was because of the possibility that Leliana could be saved, as well as overconfidence in his abilities, and he did not believe he would be betrayed. Honestly, I would say Aldanon does love Leli.

He must love her to go solo into a situation that he knew had the possibility to be an ambush. Especially after d'Aubrac's over reaction to him taking someone with him.

You just need to get Leli & Aldanon together, have Zev or one of his assassin cronies do a number on Anora (loose stair carpet in the palace perhaps?) and after a suitable period of mourning, they can all live happily ever after.  j/k

[Maximus741000]

I'm considering it as we speak, I will find a way to bring this about, preferably without Aldanon looking like a power-crazed, regicidal, Loghain-esque douche, fear not.

And thank you for the support.

Modifié par Maximus741000, 24 mars 2010 - 10:02 .

[MireliA]

Maximus741000 wrote...

I'm considering it as we speak, I will find a way to bring this about, preferably without Aldanon looking like a power-crazed, regicidal, Loghain-esque douche, fear not.

And thank you for the support.

Your welcome!

[Sisimka]

Wow, great chapter. Took me a couple days to get to it, sorry! (up to eyeballs in Aedan angst). I have to second most of Mirelia's questions and am interested in your answers and proposed conclusions. Go Aldanon!

[Maximus741000]

Now we return to Leliana's side of the story.

At the Enemy’s Core

Leliana stirred to life. At first she didn’t open her eyes, but she could tell that she must have been in her drakeskin leathers but her equipment must have been taken off her because her utility pouches felt empty. As she felt the poison leave her body, she groaned in soreness and fatigue, letting her body remain limp. Despite the fact that the poison must have worn out, she kept her eyes shut and wanted rest for her whole body felt heavy and weak. But then her head suddenly throbbed with blunt pain, she pulled her hand up to rub her head but could not reach it. She pulled harder and heard the sound of chains clinking on a metal lined wooden board. The ability to feel returned to her body and her eyes burst open, she realised to her shock that her hands were chained. She looked around her body to find her legs were chained to what seemed to be a stretcher meant for torture. She tugged and pulled to free herself, grunting in frustration as the effort was in vain. She glanced around her to see what appeared to be a darkened wooden warehouse with an exposed roof. She craned her neck upwards towards a hole in the ceiling, the black clouds that darkened the sky seemed familiar; the clouds that heralded a darkspawn approach – they must have been approaching. Her eyes, which were accustomed to the dark, could pick out extinguished torches. She continued to look about the wreck of the building, she seemed to be positioned on a crumbled flooring extension only a few planks long that had given away, there seemed to be stairs to her right, but she could not know for certain. The place was obviously inhabited, but by whom?

                                                                                           +++++++++++++

“Let me out! Let me out!” she called out to the darkness. For a while there was no noise, or very little. There seemed to be movement. Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded in the dark, so close to her that she gasped in shock.
“Ah, Leliana my old friend.” The voice slithered into her mid, an edge of insanity driving into her “You may play innocent with me and say that I’ve hunted you, but the truth is I’m the one who’s been hunted; by you. You’ve chased me around the icy crags of the Frostback Mountains, through the wooded glades of the Dales, and across the azure vaults of the Waking Sea. You hunted me; you hunted me and now the hunter is the hunted. As the bardic saying goes in Orlais; La vengeance est un plat qui se mange froid.” There was no mistaking that supple, strongly accented voice.
“Marjolaine!” Leliana’s normally musical voice rose to abnormally harsh and enraged one as she screamed that cursed name out. In response, Marjolaine presented herself to her, a look of prideful satisfaction on her aged face, her body clad in enchanted leathers and her bow, her old bow which she left behind, slung across her back.
“Thank you ever so much for returning my bow, Leliana.” she said in her supple yet distinctly paranoid voice in a disjointed way “And don’t be surprised you were captured. “You were always as wet as a Ferelden dog in a pond; I had months to gather my resources while you were chasing dragons and darkspawn in the dog country.”
“Well at least I had the courage to face down dragons and other monsters,” she yelled back as far out to her as she could “you would faint dead away and let the beasts put their blades into you, you worthless coward.”
“Enough of your squealing, girl!” Marjolaine hissed venomously “You do realise that I have the upper hand in this battle, one which you have already lost.” She strode about the crumbled flooring smiling at her victory.
“You have not won, Aldanon Cousland walks the city was we speak, and few within the city watch will cast aside their loyalties to the Empress as easily as Captain Detrer.” She called out to her defiantly, wily wit and hope taking over “Once he knows that you have me as your prisoner, he will come down upon you like an Archdemon and reduce you to nothing. If he has the Empress in kind regard then that will surely come.” But as she said this, Marjolaine broke into a series of choking gurgling sound that must have been chortling. At this moment, Leliana knew that hope was slipping away if not gone already. Her enemy strode over to her until she was so close to her that she could smell her foul breath floating with her lithe words away from her mouth.
“Even now, after all this time you are so very naive. Do you not believe I would have prepared for the event that he would intervene? No. You should have left and never returned to Orlais, now you will bear witness to the end.”
“You are nothing, Marjolaine,” Leliana yelled in defiance once again as her face hardened. “Nothing but an insane, cruel, and evil curse upon this fair world, had you not betrayed me your death would have been old age”
 “Wrong again. You betrayed me, Leliana, all those years ago when you should have stayed obedient to me and we could have been rich and happy. You should have let Val Royeaux become ours. Now, I have my revenge.”
“Mistress, I see someone coming.” A mercenary, an alienage elf clad in weak leathers, suddenly appeared out of nowhere by her side, Marjolaine nodded patiently and dismissed the mercenary.
“So, you’ve given yourself a new title for your cronies, Marjolaine?” she scorned her with suppressed outrage, “If so, then they are greater fools than you are. And you’ve taken to pressganging elves into your service, I see.”
“You will remain silent, girl.” Marjolaine snarled her into submission as she turned about and threw a violent slap to her face. Leliana groaned in pain, sobs threatening to overcome her, “You will see; I have the upper hand.” She clicked her fingers; and to her very action, a white radiance, a wisp, emerged out from the still air and floated towards the two women. From within its white light, Leliana could pick out faint images, scenes; a battle was unfolding, there also seemed to be a body, but she could not tell whose, but continued to gaze into the wisp.

                                                                                           +++++++++++++

Aundar examined the battered, bruised and hacked body that was once Aldanon Cousland, his axe had cloven the once proud and regal helmet in two; the visor was crumpled and broken from the main helm, and a huge slash cut across it. His golden armour was reduced to broken bits of gold-plated metal; the breastplate was punctured and severed in many places, and the boots and gauntlets lay worn and bruised by the battle. The left side of Aldanon’s head was scarred by a great, bloody gash that left his face blooded and reddened; all his majesty was sundered and shattered, yet his bravery and formidability endured even in death; his enemies did well to keep away from him. Of the forty that assaulted him only a mere ten remained. Aundar checked his pulse; it was weak, but still present. Aundar would have gladly finished him off without a word’s notice, but respect for his enemy’s skill held him back. Suddenly an archer whistled to him from above. He gestured to the other mercenaries to retreat into the labyrinth of wrecked warehouses and slum buildings. They waited but a few minutes, and a new sight emerged from the main avenues; a man clad in silverite chevalier armour with a greatsword across his back, auburn hair and a youthful, if slightly drained face. It was Marquis Jacques.

                                                                                           +++++++++++++

He scanned around the alleyways, remaining where he was; he sensed that something was terribly wrong. The battle was virtually minutes away, and Aldanon had disappeared. His battles with the Ferelden king lead him to believe he would not abandon his comrades on the field of battle, and he wouldn’t. There must have been a reason, the most evident one seemed to be treachery, Aldanon was intelligent enough to know who to trust and it would be explicable if he was told to go out here, by an enemy on the inside of the Orlesian forces, for whatever reason that might possibly draw him in. The only question is who or what would give him that reason? Suddenly, a loose brick was dislodged and fell to the floor. He drew his greatsword and held it out in front of him, as if he were expecting stealthed enemies to leap out and strike him. Unable to evaluate the situation, he strode down the alleyway towards the warehouse tentatively, his sword out in front of him. Something golden glinted in his eye. Aldanon’s armour. He ran towards the source of the gold, and fell before his kews when he saw it; Aldanon lay virtually dead before him.

                                                                                           +++++++++++++

Having been conditioned to be a knight and a warrior first and foremost, Jacques had little time or room for emotion in him. But seeing what was once his newest and finest friend lie before him was too much. For the first time in ten years, Marquis Jacques wept bitter tears. He held Aldanon’s head against his own, letting his tears drop unto his pale face. But the emotion had to be overcome, Jacques examined the young lord’s body; noticing the cuts and gashes along his body and armour, and more noticeably the many arrows in his breastplates. He was ambushed. Jacques needed to bring his body back, perhaps there was a chance he was not dead. With all his strength, he lifted the limp body over his shoulders. But let him drop to the floor again. He froze in fear, the alleyways had come alive. Archers lined the walls, a cabal of malificarum dotted the walls, and ten anderfel mercenaries led by one powerful individual blocked the way. He was trapped.

                                                                                           +++++++++++++

Unwilling to submit, Jacques brandished his greatsword and rushed forth, not to battle but to escape. He could tell this was no battle one man could win. All of the sudden, he froze; a paralysis spell. Though all hearing around him was hushed, he could pick out the sounds of fire, frost and lighting spells being prepared by the accursed mages. Knowing he could not withstand the full might of seven mages, he made a silent prayer to the Maker, praying to keep the royal family safe and to preserve Orlais from the evil that claimed him. His time was up. The spell gave way, but not before electric shocks coursed through him. He doubled over in pain, roaring to the heavens, as the shocks ruptured his internal organs, and broke every nerve in his body. The spells of ice fell upon him, numbing anything that survived the shocks. The lead mage dropped down from the wall and stood before him, a white wisp hovering next to him. The electric shocks coursed through his armour, and were magnified by the metal and the ice. Knowing he was in no state to fight back, he stared into his enemy’s eyes. François knew what they meant; finish it. He raised his staff and sent a surge of purple spirit energy into Jacques; he roared in pain once again and collapsed to the floor. He would never fight for Orlais again. Aundar and Iūrups stepped forth. The tevinter rogue opened his belt purse and drew a deep green poison that radiated heavy magic, and Aundar picked up Maric’s Blade, which now lay defeated by Aldanon’s side. He raised the blade, and with a colossal crack of broken armour it plunged it into Jacques’ body. Meanwhile, Iūrups took Jacques greatsword and dripped the poison into the very tip of the blade. He strode over to Aldanon, who was beginning to show signs of return, with a wicked grin; he targeted a weak point in Aldanon’s already shattered armour; along the side, near the stomach. The poison-tipped blade pierced the armour and into the flesh. Iūrups stepped away from the body, grinning victoriously as Aldanon’s pallor returned to his skin and his blood flushed from the wound.

                                                                                           +++++++++++++

Leliana stared at the images that wisp projected to her, all life was drained from her normally fair skin as horror washed across her. She could not believe it, first vital intelligence on Orlais, now the murder of a high nobleman.
“You will regret this Marjolaine,” she said bitterly, her grief transforming into rising abhorrence. “You’ve bitten off more than you can chew by killing Marquis Jacques. All Orlais will descend upon you and Aldanon with them!” But Marjolaine barely heeded her, and instead turned towards the mage who had just returned from his deed. She nodded to him; and in response, François raised his arms and chanted, lowered them with force and to his magic’s bidding the torches ignited and Leliana could see the extent of her enemy’s machinations. In response to the light, lines of mercenaries, men and elves, marched out of the building from deep pits in the flooring. The smith, Benoit set about on his smith work. The mages were brooding over their future, which as Marjolaine had promised them seemed prolific. As Leliana observed this, she came to realise how hopeless her mission was.
“As you can see Leliana, my future is assured, and you will bear witness to it. What you saw happened moments before your waking. Starting with your capture, then the death of the Marquis, and now this -” she gestured down the stairs, the sound of shuffling rolled up the stairs. Aundar dragged a large brown sack, large enough to fit a human in, he raised the sack from its base and out he fell. Aldanon Cousland, clad in his ruined armour. For a moment, Leliana could not believe her eyes; she blinked several times as if trying to dispel a vision and continued to stare at him in horror. Francois snapped his fingers and the machine released her. She fell to his side, tears erupting from her like bitter torrents, and heavy sobs bursting from her as she took Aldanon in her arms, feeling his cold hands and pulseless neck confirmed her fears. She murmured softly to him in a broken voice; “Aldanon, wake up. Oh please wake up.” But her pleas went unanswered. For a moment, all else around her was irrelevant, she was with Aldanon at last and cared not for the world. If only I’d never come here, she sobbed into his cheek, if only I’d never returned to Orlais and stayed by his side as his friend and, and... She took his cold, ashen head in her arms, her cries ringing in the ruined halls that were her dungeon and his grave. In that moment of temporary calm the moon appeared, her moonlight tears falling upon Leliana and Aldanon, illuminating her tears that trickled down his face. Whatever poison Iūrups used, it seemed to have destroyed what remained of Aldanon.

                                                                                           +++++++++++++

Marjolaine looked down upon this scene of reunion in loss, indifferent to it and completely unmoved. In her cold eyes, all she saw was a weakling who failed her years ago and had fallen for a prince of paupers. Her thoughts focused on Leliana’s next move. The moment was over; Leliana looked quickly up at her foe, breathing heavily in suppressed rage. She stared at her for a long time, her rage was growing to dangerous levels and her skin showed tints of hot scarlet but her foe remained apathetic. She struck out for Marjolaine. Her foe dodged to the side and Leliana careered across the floorboards and clung on to have retribution. Aundar stepped forth, and with a solid grip of his giant clawed paw he lifted her up as she struggled violently, cursing all around her, and François held his staff towards her struggling head, with a brief incantation she dropped to the floor, unconscious.
“Strap her to the holding device, and return the body to the streets.” She commanded her minions.

Modifié par Maximus741000, 26 mars 2010 - 06:27 .

[MireliA]

Great chapter . I thought he was dead then!



I like the reunion even though Aldanon was unconscious.

[Harutes]

Stumbled across this a few days ago, and just finished. I'm really enjoying it so far, keep it up.

[Ken555]

I absolutely love your stories, they are amazing!

[Sisimka]

That Marjolaine! You should have killed her when you had the chance! (I didn't kill her either, I hope she doesn't come back to haunt me...)

[Maximus741000]

@ MireliA, I'm glad you liked Leliana's reunion with Aldanon (in one form or another), were I able to make it more emotional I would have done so to make the scene perfect.

@ Harutes, well don't worry, this is just the beginning of the dark period of the story

@ Ken555; thank you, I'm really glad you're enjoying them. After all, when I write I aim to please if not excel.

@ Sisimka; as much as I would have liked to kill Marjolaine, without her there would be no story. And not one in which I could make her blood-curdlingly evil.