165 réponses à ce sujet

[TheMadCat]

I like this story, keep it up.

[Ken555]

If you made this into a book, I'm sure it would be a bestseller!

[Gilgamesh1138]

I just found this, great job! : )

[valen_morrow]

Hey, I got into this a little late but so far I find myself chuckling at some parts and saying "oh **** thats not good" on so many parts. Really enjoying this fanfic .

[Maximus741000]

Readers beware: the following chapter is a BIG one! And a pivotal one too.

Drums of War

“Where is he?” Osecar’s eloquently accented voice now had a discord of fear in it. He had waited on the walls of the city with Geoffrey Oghren, Wynne, and Zevran, watching the darkspawn hordes pour out of the trees and assemble for battle on the outside of the city. The darkspawn pall that settled over the city. The fear that had taken hold in Osecar’s mind had spread to all the others, the darkspawn would not wait for Aldanon and yet he was needed here and now of all times. What was worse was the fact of Marquis Jacques disappearance; and on top of that, Duke d’Aubrac had left the field to return to one of his castles in the city. Geoffrey’s normally composed authority was beginning to break under the pressure of waiting, which Charles was disapproving due to his lieutenant’s role in leading the army.

“We cannot wait any longer; one of us needs to go into the city and find him and the Marquis.” Geoffrey’s hard voice carried to the rest of the group while they watched the darkspawn assemble on the field anxiously.
“But if the Warden Commander catches one of us leading, he would call us deserters,” Zevran stated sensibly
“And I don’t wanna know what the punishment for that is here!” Oghren added, nudging Zevran’s side hard.
“One of us will still have to go, what if Aldanon’s in trouble?” Wynne asked rhetorically. The rest of the group stopped to think for a few moments, uncertain how to proceed. Osecar’s logic based mind would have dictated that they continued the battle without him, but Aldanons essentiality was vital for victory.
“I will go,” he announced with a sudden flow of courage and resolution, striding about the walls “I will take a horse and say that I’m running a few last-minute errands for the templars and try and locate him.”
“How will you find him, Osecar?” Wynne asked in confusion, in response Osecar drew out a thin vial of blood with thick green glass, no bigger than a small lyrium potion. Zevran and Wynne gave him analytical looks and studied the vial; Oghren glared at him and stifled a belch, and Geoffrey’s rigid stoic look hardened still.
“Where the sod did you get that, mage?” Oghren questioned him in an outraged and disgusted voice.
“I took it as a sample to test his blood for infections from a genlock knife wound,” Osecar explained to the group and started applying numerous ingredients from his belt to the blood and started whisking it around, moving away from the group as he prepared the concoction, and overlooking the city, “he wasn’t poisoned, but I couldn’t simply cast the sample away. If I apply the blood to my arcane abilities, and focus on a scrying spell, the spell will seek him out, and then I should be able to locate him.” He added the last ingredient, a small portion of lyrium dust. The potion started to glow intensely with magic, so much so that Osecar flinched as the energy heated his hand. Suddenly the potion exploded, releasing a glowing spark of magic, swirling with the blood from the sample. As if alive, it rocketed around and started circling around, as if trying to detect its origins, only Osecar could follow it's movements.

“I need to follow it, wait here!” he announced to the group urgently, “I’ll fire a blue spark into the sky if he’s alright – it will mean he’s returning. If you see a red spark shoot into the air it will mean trouble, and Wynne, you will have to ride to the Empress and warn her if that happens, take the Zev and Ogrhen with you to join the Empress. Geoffrey and I will have to remain here with the wardens and the rest of the army.” When he finished he jumped, right over the edge of the wall he jumped. The others rushed over to see had had landed safely, and he had, right next to a lightly clad horse too. Before Geoffrey could command him to stop, he saddled up and galloped off into the city after the magical spark. The rest of the group stared after him in utter surprise as his mounted form disappeared into the winding streets of the city. Zevran and Oghren stared at the horse that sped off into the distance, incredulous looks painting their faces at the suddenness of it all.
“Heh, not bad for a little guy, who would’ve thought it, eh Zev?” Oghren commented Zevran, who nodded.
A smile grew across Wynne’s face, a proud, satisfied look that was reminiscent to a teacher pleased of an old pupil who had found success in life, and Geoffrey raised his hand to scratch his helmeted head in confusion.
“Geoffrey, have you considered the boy a position as second Warden-Lieutenant?” Wynne said to Geoffrey in admiring tone, clearly impressed by Osecar’s sudden actions, Geoffrey simply stared at her incredulously.
“If we knew about this ability of his earlier,” Geoffrey explained, wholly surprised “he would have been made an officer, but he never came out of his shell, always thinking about magics and practicing by himself.”
“It goes to show that we mages are full of surprises.” She chuckled.

                                                                                           +++++++++++

The spark of magic that whizzed through the city was enough to leave Osecar’s lightly saddled steed tired out within a few minutes. Fortunately, judging by the intensity of the glow of the spark, he seemed to be getting closer to Aldanon. All of the sudden, his horse stopped in fear. She whinnied and reared up, as if trying to fight an invisible foe. Osecar dismounted before she could rear up again, once he was off he could distinguish what his steed was sensing. There was something evil afoot in the air; foul magic. He tied the horse to a nearby tree and left her there, knowing that if she were to take flight he would be stuck, and in danger. He strode towards the source of the magic, keeping his illuminated staff ahead of him in his right, and a small fireball in his left. He could sense the magic was coming from the back alleys of the city, where hundreds of petty criminals made their villainous lives in the city’s shadow. But the spark moved away from the source, towards one of the main roads in the city, Emperor’s Avenue, a region mostly comprised of common folk houses. The spark was glowing very brightly now, suddenly it raced down the avenue towards something broken and clad in gold, near something silvery. Osecar stopped dead in his tracks, he knew what it was. His heart exploded into his throat as he ran towards the figures; both of them were very familiar. Aldanon and Jacques lay dead in a pool of blood beside each other. He stared at them in utter disbelief, stepped back and blathered in incomprehensible shock for a moment, and then with his entire might of magic, jets of blood-red light shot into the sky.

                                                                                           +++++++++++

Commander Charles had given the Empress and Queen Anora strict instructions to remain at Palais Royeaux to wait out the battle. But the sight of red light from the depths of the city was a worrying sight. It seemed that the only one to perceive the signal as a message of urgency was the Maximus the mabari. It was almost as if he could sense and smell the danger his master was in, and the evil behind it. It wasn’t until a quarter of an hour later had the signal been seen that horses galloped out of the mist. Wynne, Zevran and Oghren rode towards the entrance of the palace to find Empress Celene, Queen Anora, their fellow courtiers, Ser Perth and the knights, and their respective guards waiting outside the palace, both leaders were looking so concerned it was unnerving, for both were confident rulers, who shouldn't know fear.
“Your Majesties come quickly!” Wynne urged breathily to the two monarchs, who stood surprised at her urgency. “Something terrible has happened and we think Aldanon and Marquis Jacques are in trouble!

“What are you talking about Wynne?” Anora queried in confusion, Celene’s eyes widened in fear at the mention of her young cousin being in danger. Their retinues and guards stirred about, clearly distressed by the notion.
“Please, there’s no time, Queen Anora! You both need to come with us before it gets out of hand. Follow us!”
“I recognised where the signal came from;” the Empress joined in at once, just as afraid as her fellows. “It was over Emperor’s avenue, I can get you there quickly by foot. I’m afraid the horses must be taken back.”
The rest of the party nodded in agreement and dismounted, and the Empress lead the way forth from the compound of the palace. Sensing the movement taking place, Maximus rushed to Wynne’s side, whining pleadingly to join them. Oghren was normally used to carrying his weight, but the worrying fear in his stomach prevented him from running very quickly. Zevran’s normally calm mind was breaking under the tension of the possibilities of what manner of danger awaited them; he knew this was the worst time to be under attack from a new force. The guards opened the great rail doors, and the whole group filed out of the palace and into the city.

                                                                                           +++++++++++

Anora ran through the streets with her escorts and several of the Ferelden embassy, her heart pounding in her chest, as if war drums were being sounded across the kingdom. She never really asked herself how she truly felt towards Aldanon, they got off to a good start, but he would challenge her regularly in meetings, but they never let it interfere with their personal lives. But now, with word of Aldanon dying or even dead, the thought chilled every fibre in her body. Who could possibly kill Aldanon, she thought, and why? Wynne, Zevran, Maximus and Oghren tried to keep pace with the desperate parties, but Wynne’s age and Oghren’s obesity slowed them down. The Empress and the Orlesian aristocrats were with her, she ran fairly slowly due to her huge dress, even tripping occasionally, but there was purpose and conviction in her pace. Both Ladies and their respective parties followed the Empress’s to the street where the signal came from. A crowd of people had gathered there, and the guardsmen were keeping them in check. What they saw was more nightmare than a reality. Both men, Aldanon and Marquis Jacques were lying in a pool of blood. Anora let out an anguished scream that pierced the cityscape and collapsed at Aldanon’s body. Celene wailed in horror too, but at the Marquis’ death rather than the Warden King’s. Their respective groups also broke out into a fevered dirge of weeping, gasping and screaming, at the sights of their respective lords. By the time Aldanon’s former companions arrived at the scene, they had to force their way to see. Wynne was the most horrified at the bloodbath, she went deathly pale at once and she was suddenly colder than the evening air. She collapsed to her knees and knelt beside Aldanon’s side.

“Nooo!” she wailed, her voice both pained and breaking with woe and terror “What has happened here?! Why him? Why of all the damned souls in this world, why his?!” she shrieked, tears flooding down her cheeks, soaking her robes, slowly she bundled up into a small ball and continued to weep. Maximus, Aldanon’s loyal, steadfast hound broke down into lamented howling, Zevran ran over to comfort Wynne, gasped in shock at the pale corpse that was once his leader and friend. Oghren, who was carrying his mighty Vashoth battleaxe, literally dropped it and let out a noise in which no one could tell if it was an angry yell or a horrified one, but both emotions were relevant.
“I can scarcely believe it; I thought he was almost invincible.” Zevran said, despair in his voice “Whatever treacherous scum did this, I will ensure they live to see my blade.” He added in a tone that neared venomous.
“By the sodding Stone, I thought he would die in the deep roads like a Warden, not here in this place.” Oghren moaned “Bad things are afoot, I’m sure.” He picked his axe up and leant on it, head down. Celene, who had been nursing the Jacques’ corpse, tears also streaming down her face, raised her head to Anora who ignored Jacques.

“Queen Anora, your Aldanon was a fine man, but one of my own lies in a pool of his blood. Please, show some recognition for his death.” Anora listened closely, but was unmoved by Celene’s tearful plea.
“Every ounce of respect due to the Marquis from us is yours, Celene, but a greater, far more heroic man lies dead as well. The man you said yourself saved Orlais.” Anora’s tone was becoming ruthless, almost demanding of the Empress, yet with a sign of criticality. But Celene met her claim with sharper words still, shaken by her conduct.
“If you held your cousin’s own body in your hands, would you not shed tears for one who was once family?” she challenged Anora with a hardened expression. Anora was more than prepared this time and became as stone.
“I’ve held my father’s bloodied corpse in my own hands, empress, he was the man who freed Ferelden with King Maric. I know what it’s like to lose family, even if they committed wrongs before their deaths.”

“Will you both shut up?!” Wynne’s voice interrupted, grief still strangling her. “Two of our lords lie dead and you’re discussing your pride?! Justice must be done here and now! Aldanon’s murderer must be found.” She collapsed back into weeping. Anora shook her head, still refusing to believe that Aldanon was dead.
“I’m sorry, Celene. But the unthinkable has occurred, we need to discover the truth of all this.” Anora declared.
“I just can’t quite stomach it!” Oghren shouted “He never died when we fought the Blight, how can he die here? In Orlais!” added the dwarf. Zevran’s grieved expression suddenly became analytical. There was something wrong with the way Aldanon looks, he thought. He bent down to examine him, becoming more puzzled. Something sprung up in his mind; he recognised something of Aldanon that only he would notice.

                                                                                           +++++++++++

But then Duke Claude d’Aubrac entered the scene, with a whole patrol of his personal guard. What was he doing away from the army? What about the darkspawn? More to their surprise, he seemed quite collected despite the carnage. He was clad in a unique set of armour consisting of dragonbone with reds steel and a volcanic aurum. He walked over to Aldanon’s body, and picked up Maric’s Blade, Wynne snapped into a furious action.
“Unhand that blade right now, you greedy swine!” she growled with her staff raised, but the Duke ignored her, fingering the bloodied blade. He seemed somewhat proud of what he was doing, and what he was about to do and that confused Wynne. He motioned to one of the guards in Orlesian to raise the Marquis’ body, opened the wound where a sword would have been, and slid the sword into the wound. There was no sound of flesh being cut. It fitted perfectly. The orlesians gasped, but the Fereldens became angry at the Duke’s apparent accusation.
“As you can see, it was the lord Aldanon who killed Marquis Jacques; his blade matches the wound in his chest.” He proclaimed, satisfaction in his voice, “And that means;” he paused and shouted “Ferelden treachery!!” pointing his finger across t the Fereldans. Swords rang across the street, Anora’s group was outnumbered.

“WHAT!!??” the empress screamed, almost unable to comprehend or accept her husband’s words, to whom she was screaming to no one could tell. “How could Aldanon murder Jacques? This, this is terrible!”
“You can’t accuse us of treachery, you two-faced bastard! How dare you blame us?!” Anora shouted him down. d’Aubrac, but he was undaunted, and the shadow that was over them suddenly intensified as rage amounted.
“Anora!” the empress hissed at her, “You speak to my husband, show respect, the sword fits the wound.”
“How can you believe that Aldanon would stoop to such low levels of evil?!” Anora demanded furiously, rising to challenge Celene directly, her face was a helm of determination and growing rage. “He was a hero.”
“Your father, Loghain was a hero and he betrayed your first husband, Cailan.” The Empress retorted. Anora’s rage was amounting to more terrible heights. Wynne and the others backed away from the brewing trouble.
“You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, you backstabbing Orlesian!” Anora screamed maliciously.

“You see?” d’Aubrac turned to Celene “I told you these Fereldens could not be trusted, they deserve to be executed here and now. They murder one of our own, and blame us for the death of their lord. I say we kill them here and now! For Orlais!!” and in response, more swords were drawn and more soldiers began to flank him. But Wynne was one step ahead of him; she picked up Jacques’ greatsword and noticed a part of the blade was missing, and looked at the open wound in Aldanon’s body and noticed a shard, and examined it. It was the same metal as Jacque’s sword, and she put the shard into the part of the blade where the metal was missing.
“Your majesty,” she turned to Anora, “This sword is missing a shard of its blade; and I found this in the king’s wound.” She showed the sword to Anora and matched the notch to the shard; it fitted perfectly. There were more gasps of terror, shock and rage from the Orlesians, d’Aubrac noticed Wynne’s deduction and fear flushed his face. “You see what this Fereldan accuses us of, my lady?! I have never seen such slander in my life! An Orlesian does not stoop to murder, unlike Fereldan dogs!” he taunted the Fereldans, who began roaring with rage and drew their swords, their bravery amused the Orlesians. The blood drained from Wynne’s face as she realized what she just did, terror rising in her. More and more Orlesian soldiers were joining d’Aubrac’s side, their blades drawn and their faces distinctly evil.
“Empress Celene, my mage has presented clear evidence that your cousin murdered my husband, and such an act is a declaration of war. Aldanon would not attack for any reason other than self-defence.”

“You underestimate your standing, Queen Anora.” Celene threatened “Jacques would not attack a soul for a half-copper. The death of a royal noble by foreign hands in Orlesian lands is liable to be punished by death. Or war, as you prefer. You have struck the first blow.” Her voice was becoming more hostile. Ser Perth stepped forth.
“My Ladies please!” he beseeched in a voice that lacked his normal calm, trying to appeal to them “The enemy is on our very doorstep, we cannot afford to be divided. We need to help our lords, they may not be dead!”
“Know your place, Ferelden dog!” the Duke shouted him down belligerently, drawing his sword towards Ser Perth, “We will have no more dealings with traitorous barbarians; will we, my lady?” he turned to Celene, who was so pale and lost in grief, it seemed as though she were no longer Empress of her own realm.
“So be it,” Celene concluded, regretful acknowledgment in her voice “from this hour henceforth, the Orleisan Empire declares war against the kingdom of Ferelden for heinous crimes committed in our lands, even if it means your inevitable defeat.” Onlookers gasped in terror and some fled, but the soldiers stood their ground and drew blades. Over the heads of the challengers, a storm was brewing, thunder rolled in the clouds like mighty war drums. Anora had to defy the empress, to yield surrounded by her soldiers would be her death.

“Go against Ferelden and you will lose, Celene. We defied the Orlais once and we will do so again.” She growled, but Celene’s control over the growing chaos though her husband’s control was evident. She accepted the challenge with an emotion that no one could tell was grief or anger, but she quickly cooled down.
“Your pride blinds you Anora. You struck the first blow, and now we strike ours.” Celene said almost casually. “Seize the bodies, Aldanon’s too!!” d’Aubrac cried out, and in a split second, orlesian soldiers led by him charged straight towards both bodies, swords drawn. Ser Perth rallied the Ferelden soldiers, and with a blow of his war horn, they struck out against the enemy. It turned into a blood bath. These orlesian soldiers were not prepared for the wrath and fury of the Fereldans, their faces had a wrath only akin to an enraged Maker and their grim determination set many soldiers into fleeing. But the d’Aubrac had anticipated this, suddenly from every corner of the city, beacons were being lit, and from the castles on each side of the city, silver lines were emerging from them; the Chevaliers were on the march, the ones who were being kept away from the battle by the his orders. And from the sky, the heavens screamed, and exploded above the battle, lightning surged from the sky, rain came down like a torrent, and fires were ignited, Val Royeaux recoiled in fear.

                                                                                           +++++++++++

The rain came down upon Val Royeaux like the wrath of the Maker himself, so much so that Anora was nearly blinded. She managed to get away from the chaos, still gasping and breathing heavily from the shock of it all, tears menaced to overcome her; so this is what it’s come to, she thought, my father would have never allowed this. She noticed a soldier trying to recuperate from a fight with one of the empress’s chevaliers; she clasped his shoulder gave him a scroll; the soldier gave her a inquiring look but her imperative tone turned it town.
“Take this to our ship, give it to the captain; he’ll know what to do with it, Godspeed.” She struggled to remain engaged and keep her emotions in check, but the soldier obeyed, running as fast as the Maker allowed. Anora managed to pick up a bow and joined the fray, striking every orlesian that approached. But soon the carnage was amounting and it would be a matter of time until the rest of the enemy noticed her. As her retinue began to falter around her, she found herself in direct combat, and became vulnerable. Too late she noticed the mounted chevalier coming towards her. The next thing she felt was a heavy, powerful force on her shoulders knocking her down.

Modifié par Maximus741000, 27 mars 2010 - 06:34 .

[MireliA]

A declaration of war against Fereldan whilst in the Orlais.That's an awful position to be in.

Very well written and I almost felt sorry for Anora

[valen_morrow]

fight! fight! fight! can the dog like maul the annoying duke?

well written and enjoyed everything about it.

[Maximus741000]

It's been a little bit quiet around here, and I think it's time old friends got back into the mix.

Loose the Hounds

Alistair sat uncomfortably on Denerim Palace’s throne, Teyrn Fergus leaning on the wall just as uneasily nearby. The storm had raged around Denerim for three hours, but it wasn’t the weather that was giving him unsettled feelings. But it wasn’t just the two men; the other nobles assembled were under the spell of depression too. Arl Eamon of Redcliffe was beginning to feel the effects of the terrible atmosphere too, and struggled to keep his peace. They had gathered for another one of Alistair’s frequent councils, and so far it was mostly Eamon who was making valid suggestions for Alistair to take up and advising him on how to carry out sanctions. Incidentally despite their initial fears, Aldanon’s instructions had served Alistair well, and he was starting to come across as much a valid candidate for the throne as he could have been. But the fear that had taken over was inescapable, for it hung over the hall and stilled sound and caused the heart to grow cold. Fergus was soon unable to take it any longer; he could tell something was wrong, as if the Maker was calling it out to them. He turned to Alistair.
“Alistair, talk to me, what’s wrong?” he tried to say in a comforting voice, but Alistair jumped on the throne and turned abruptly. Fergus backed a little, but as soon as both men calmed Alistair answered.

“I... I’m not sure.” He answered slowly, “I feel like there’s something wrong happening in Orlais but I can’t quite put a finger on it. I know it sounds crazy, but there was this one time when one of the elder grey wardens who came to Ferelden to aid with the Amaranthine garrison told me of how our taint also gives us the ability to sense other grey wardens in the same way we can sense darkspawn. I noticed what it was, when Aldanon left Denerim. This warden taught me how to find other wardens using the taint, even as far as Val Royeaux. But now that familiarity has dissolved, I can’t find him. There’s only absence. It’s as if he’s vanished from Thedas.” Fergus nodded understandingly, for he had spoken many times with the wardens, and such things made sense to him.
“I see what you mean; it’s the same thing that’s been affecting the other nobles, they're all unsettled and at loss for action. There's been no word from Aldanon since he told us about the darkapawn. Perhaps if we go to -”

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

Before he could finish his sentence the sound of hoofs on stone could be heard. Suddenly, the large wooden doors of the palace collapsed to matchwood and a horseman charged across the hall. Before the nobles could begin ranting, a hysterical, panic-stricken mounted messenger dismounted his steed and stumbled exhaustedly across the hall towards Alistair, who got up and looked on confused and surprised.
“The king is dead!” the messenger screamed, grief and exhaustion threatening to wrench his voice out. The nobles broke into frantic cries of ‘What?!' and bickering amongst each other. Alistair rose from the throne with Fergus at his side, gesturing the nobles to move aside and Eamon joined them. Bann Teagan stared shocked at the messenger, holding his emotions back as he joined Alistair, Fergus and Eamon.

“Aldanon is....dead?” Teagan began falteringly, as if unwilling to believe it, “How could this happen?”
“What has happened? How can King Aldanon be dead?” Alistair questioned, his voice filled with fear.
“I know it sounds mad, but it’s true. Aldanon was killed by the Orlesians and Anora was framed for plotting the murder of an Orlesian noble, Celene has declared war on Ferelden.” The nobles broke into horrified gasps and fevered murmurs. “I was instructed by Anora to return to Ferelden in the event of a crisis. But I fear that Anora has either been captured or killed.” He panted, terror still clutching at him. The nobles broke into a frenzied surge of cursing of the Orlesians, ‘damned Orlesian bastards’ being the most common. Arl Eamon took over.
“How do you know about this? How long ago did this happen?” Eamon pressed the messenger fiercely.
“Less than twelve hours ago, a series of beacons were lit from ships at sea and a mage was able to translate their message; it was a code, he told me, that Aldanon was dead and Anora captured.” The nobles murmured to each other once more, and Alistair was becoming unable to take it. He turned, desperately trying to mull it all over.
“I can’t believe this,” he began weakly, “Aldanon said they were on the verge of peace. Why would Celene do this? Something’s wrong.” But Eamon clasped his shoulder, his face grim and sullen with suppressed grief.
“Alistair, I fear that it is true. If we do nothing, the Empress will have her way and send her chevaliers, but I’m afraid we will have to do the unthinkable to save Anora. I think the Landsmeet know what it is.”
“We do, Arl Eamon.” Fergus nodded, dread hanging in his voice “I do not wish it, but we must respond to the Empress’s act of war and wage our own, to protect Ferelden and possibly rescue Anora.” The nobles and soldiers responded in riotous cries of approval. Alistair stood stunned, as if he had seen an army of ghosts storm the hall.

“Are you all insane!?!” he cried in shock and horror, his skin pale in fright, “After all Aldanon has strived for to attain peace with Orlais, we want to wage WAR?!?!” he roared striding about the nobles, “Are we not better than Loghain was to want war with Orlais?” at his accusation the other nobles rallied behind Eamon’s side.
“I assure you, Alistair,” Eamon began tightly, “if Loghain was here he would already be marching to Orlais as we speak. This is only a measure to ensure that Orlais either releases Anora and doing so avert the war, but if war is what they want then we will consent. Whatever reason the Empress has to want war, we must defend ourselves.” Alistair grabbed his hair in terror; he was losing control of to Eamon. He turned to Teagan.
“Bann Teagan, please tell Eamon that we can’t seriously instigate a war in our weakened state!” he pleaded.
“I agree with Alistair, Ferelden is far too weak to engage another war.” He said firmly, Alistair sighed in relief. “But we cannot sit idly by while a new enemy waits on the horizon.” He continued, giving way to sadness. Alistair stared at him in shock as the Bann stood morosely on the middle ground between the dispute.
“I can’t believe you people, it’s as if you want war. It’s as if Loghain never died” he seethed angrily, but asserted himself. “As chancellor, I forbid you to declare war on Orlais.” He stated, falteringly. But this was met by a chorus of disapproval from the nobles. And one by one, the major lords met him head on.
“The Empress will have committed regicide if Aldanon’s truly dead,” Bann Sighard told him, “the Bannorn will not sit idly by while their king is killed and their queen prisoner, nor when the chevaliers return to Ferelden.”
“Agreed, the Bannorn will support Eamon’s bid for war, this is justice we are talking about.”Bann Alfstanna joined in and turned to Eamon “I can send enough ships to send our troops to Val Royeaux.”
 “South Reach’s horses can cut across the Mountain Pass and join you as soon as possible.” Arl Bryland of South Reach entered into the scene, and with these major nobles taking the front, more and more of the  Bannorn and other nobles within the Landsmeet joined Eamon, soon it was only Fergus, the Grand Cleric, the Amarinthine Wardens, and Arl Wulff, who had seen enough of war, stood by him, but most of the lesser Banns had vouched for Eamon, eventually all eyes turned to the reappointed Arl of Denerim, Vaughn. He looked about confusedly at the scene and gave a look that said ‘Don’t look at me; I want nothing to do with this.' Sometimes I wonder why Aldanon gave Denerim’s arling back to him; Alistair thought to himself, he’s useles. He quickly collected himself and turned to the Grand Cleric, surely if anybody would oppose war, it was the chantry.

“Your Reverence, surely we can’t stand for such madness, should we not strive to learn the truth before we act?”
“My siding with you is purely because the Chantry is based in Orlais, an act of war is an offence against the Chantry.” She said flatly, so much for appealing to the Chantry’s better nature. Alistair cleared his head.
“We cannot give way to this mad, knee-jerk reaction.” He stated solidly, “A more rational course must be taken; I don’t believe Aldanon is dead, his old friends were with him. We must go to Val Royeaux but not to attack.”
“I fear that if we do come in peace, they may just attack us on principle, Alistair.” Eamon answered firmly. “On behalf of the nobility of Ferelden, I call for a motion of war; let the Landsmeet decide for it to be carried.” The Landsmeet declared their vote; Banns Sighard, Alfstanna, Ceorlic, Loren, and Arl Bryland concurred to the vote, the Grand Cleric, Bann Teagan, Arl Wulff and Fergus stood with Alistair. With Fergus' vote, the war motion was a stalemate. Alistair's relief was shattered when Vaughn threw his lot in with Eamon. The vote was against him.
“Then on behalf of the majority, the motion is carried. As Maric once said; 'now we loose the hounds of war.'” The nobles who upheld the motion responded in reluctant applause, knowing this could well be their doom. Fergus gazed at the floor, defeated and demoralised, even as a teyrn, he could not deny a majority vote.

“Eamon, don’t let this happen!” Alistair pleaded, “We can’t win against Orlais. For all our sakes give the motion more time! I thought you would have been the last person to have become what Loghain was.”
“I am only doing what is necessary, perhaps if an army can rescue Anora, or indeed Aldanon if he’s alive, then I promise you we will do that.” Eamon said coolly, “But you must understand this is a war of defence, not conquest. If we do nothing, the Orlesian army can conquer Ferelden all over again.” Alistair could not deny this fact. As the nobles of the Landsmeet convened to discuss a war effort with Eamon, Alistair, who was still incensed inside, left the hall, his rage bleeding out of him. Fergus remained silent throughout the discussions afterwards, the thought of his younger brother’s death remained on his mind, his blood was stilled in shock from that evil possibility. He had never felt more powerless in all his life, and he was a teyrn. Nevertheless, he knew he could not simply comply with an act of war, an alternative solution must have resided somewhere.

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

Within the private brewery of his temporary estate in Denerim, Alistair had downed his third mug of ale, or was it his sixth? He was still enraged inside, he could not believe that the nobility carried the vote to wage war. He was only an Arl and a chancellor, but his status as Warden Commander put his limited authority into question, and could not deny the will of the greater majority of nobles. Though Fergus' status as a teyrn could change a vote, he could not risk creating further animosity, or at least that's what Aldanon's notes said. Not that any of it mattered now, Ferelden and Orlais will be locked in war over his death. Even if Anora could be saved, they would still have to contend with the Aldanon's death, the blow to the country's morale would be severe.

“I'm really sorry,” Fergus' voice came earnestly to Alistair’s ears, “Truly, I am. Were there a way to prevent that war motion, I would have allowed it. But the nobility are only doing what they see as a defensive measure.”
“I already get that part, Fergus.” Alistair responded brusquely, not turning his head. “But no amount of 'sorry' can change the fact tat we've suffered a bitter blow, and the fact that Ferelden will fall if we face the Orlesians.”
“You're forget that he was my brother as much as he was yours, Alistair.” Fergus said firmly, clasping Alistair’s shoulder to draw his attention, his eyes shone with both tears and distant hope. “I'm not willing to believe that Aldanon is in fact dead. I have a plan to stop the war.” With this last word, Alistair’s curiosity was piqued, for the several months of knowing Fergus, he did have an intelligence and wit that endured through the war.
"But why would Eamon do this?!" Alistair asked with incredulity, unable to take his mind off Eamon's decision.
"He fought in the war against Orlais, so he knows how capable of cruelty the Orlesians can be, this is a war the Empress has declared." Fergus said thoughtfully, "But that's not the point, I have a plan that could save Aldanon."
“What exactly does this plan involve?” Alistair asked, turning himself around to meet eyes with Fergus.
“Only the nobles who agree with the bid for war are setting sail to Val Royeaux,” he explained “the ones who refuse have been told to remain here. You've been forbidden to leave the city, but I'm clear to leave to Orlais.”
“But how does that help?” Alistair butted in, “What if they arrive in Val Royeaux before you?”
“I was just getting to that part.” Fergus said impatiently, “Firstly; we'll be using Ferelden's fastest ship, my ship, secondly; you will be stowed onto the ship in a barrel,” Alistair's brow shot up in surprise so quickly his temples hurt, “And thirdly of course;" his tone suddenly became very charismatically cheeky,  "we'll cheat!”

Modifié par Maximus741000, 10 juin 2010 - 06:02 .

[Maximus741000]

*double post, error sorted*

Modifié par Maximus741000, 31 mars 2010 - 05:05 .

[MireliA]

Fergus to the rescue . And the thought of trying to stow Alistair on board in a barrel made me laugh



Btw you do know you've posted this twice?

[Ken555]

ohhhhh, the next chapter! Lovely but I feel fro Alistair.

[Sisimka]

So many characters and subplots, I don't know how you remember to give them all time!

The barrel made me laugh too!

[Harutes]

I like where this is going. Good stuff.

[A Puzzled Mind]

WHoa, everything has gone to hell hasn't it.

[Imperator_Valentine]

Just one word: Epic, Epic Epic! I was to busy to follow lately and have to say I am astounded to see how magnificently the story has progressed. Evoked real massive emotions on my part. Joy, sorrow, rage and above all suspense. Couldn't get to sleep after reading this so massive compliments!



And if you haven't guessed my only wish: Update as soon as possible!

[Maximus741000]

@ Mirelia, thank you, we'll be seeing more heroics from Fergus and Alistair humour soon : )
@ Ken555, Alistair will be playing a more prominent role, but I'm glad you liked it.
@ Sisimka, thank you! I only do my best to ensure the story is interesting. I'm glad you found the barrel pun funny.
@ Imperator Valentine, I honsetly don't know what to say... Thank you! To lean that I'm able to move an audience to emotion is a real encouragement.

Anyway, sorry for the considerable delay, net access in Florida has been a bit strained, but I've come through and have brought something to sustain interest.

The Rising Odds
Charles was accustomed to having to deal with severe situations, but this was more than he had expected. The darkspawn had fully assembled outside the walls of the city and were poised to attack with all their hordes and siege weapons. The sound of the battle in the streets was ringing out to the battlements of the city walls, and he could not believe his ears when a messenger told him that Celene and Anora had declared war. What was made worse was d'Aubrac's order of pulling troops from the walls to the streets to crush the Fereldans, he was insistent that they would return to fight the darkspawn but that did not ease the pressure on Charles. It was not until Osecar had returned from his mission and Aldanon's wardens, Geoffrey, Elanea, Durin, Argeles, assembled did he know of Aldanon's fate. His face moved from grief to rage to defeated angst, for they had lost their champion, he was a legend, a source of inspiration
“I can no more believe it than any one of us,” he said in a low, bitter, half-mumble which came after a long while. “Whoever is behind this disaster is most likely insane and has no grasp of the darkspawn threat. With more of the soldiers leaving the battle by the Duke's orders we may have to call the chevaliers back to the city.”
“Won't the Fereldan soldiers attack us on principle for the mere fact that we are Orlesians?” Argeles queried
“I highly doubt that,” Osecar interjected hotly, “They may be enraged, but they'll know that we're Wardens because don't answer to d'Aubrac's orders. But the real question is what do we do now? Keep fighting?”
“What about Aldanon?” Geoffrey posed, “He might be dead, but his companions might be able to help us draw a solution to resolving the fighting in the city and the encroaching darkspawn horde. We can't afford to fight both.”
“But we can't afford to focus on any single force either.” Argeles reinforced, “Nor can we divide to face each.”
“We may have to divide our forces in order to both help Aldanon's companions and battle the darkspawn.” Durin spoke out over Argeles. The Wardens had reached a silence of impasse; abandon duty or abandon their friends. Suddenly the horns sounded. The few soldiers who stayed edged nervously as the enemy came. The riotous shrieks and cries of the darkspawn charging filled the air, the sound of their armour shaking and feet hitting the ground as they ran created a terrifying cacophony of battle. Their mighty armour-clad war-ogres strode across the field, a hungry urge for destruction driving them on and the first ignited projectiles of their crude catapults and fire arrows from genlock archers soared over the walls and hit their many marks. The battle had begun.

Wynne, Maximus, Zevran and Oghren had managed to evade the main area of the battle, but not without felling a few soldiers who tried to kill them. Wynne was still struggling with her emotions, shocked and horrified by the war that has unfolded; Aldanon was dead, an unknown evil had caused all this chaos, Alistair would be pressurised into fighting Orlais and now Ferelden and Orlais were locked in war. She looked as if death was moments away, as if the spirit had abandoned hope and left her and soon she would succumb.
“This is something that should not have happened. We came with the promise of peace, now it’s in ruin.”
“Now is not the time to lose you to this chaos, Wynne.” Zevran said firmly, gripping her shoulders “We need to find the real villains behind this plot and awaken Aldanon.” Wynne became visibly startled, confused and unable to speak all at once, Maximus cocked is head in confusion as well, “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I recognise the condition he’s in, it’s a type of demonic poison designed to shut the body down but keep the victim alive. His spirit is trapped in the Fade now, and it cannot return to it's body until the poison has left the system. He will die if his body is destroyed, and with all the blood he lost from the wound, he’s much closer.”
“Then we need to get him off the Empress’s chevaliers!” shouted Oghren. “But after we get him, then what?”
“We will have to find the antidote for the poison,” Wynne suddenly burst in deduction, her mind afire, “by either finding his real poisoners, or work out the antidote based on the ingredients of the poison.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself, dear Wynne,” said Zevran, impressed. “We will have to move quickly. I saw her group moving northwards, towards the Palace, down Emperor’s Avenue!” Wynne’s once pallid skin was now flushed with action “Then our course is clear,” she said “Zevran lead the way!” The elf darted of into the rain and the smoke, followed closely by Maximus, Wynne  and then Oghren trundling behind.

They ran. The rain blinded their eyes; the smell of smoke nearly suffocated them, their mouths ran bitter and dry, the sound of battle deafened their ears, and open wounds and bruises chafed against them, but still they ran. For Aldanon’s sake, and for Ferelden and Orlais. On occasion, Zevran would gesture them to stop for him to get his bearings, then resuming the chase. They must have been within two hundred yards of the Palace when suddenly he called the group to stop; the sound of footsteps and clinking armour was rushing towards them.
“Draw your weapons, everybody!” he called out to them, and in response Wynne drew her staff, Oghren his great battleaxe and Maximus crouched down and bared his teeth. The newcomers were not who they expected.
“Geoffrey, Argeles, Osecar, Elanea, Durin!” Wynne called out to the Wardens, surprise and relief in her voice.
“Wynne,” Geoffrey greeted her with a firm clasp of his gauntleted hand, “It is good we have found you. The darkspawn attack has started, the defenders are currently holding the walls but we need to find d'Aubrac and demand that he stops his mad mission to destroy the Fereldans and send his troops back to the walls. Charles also said we also need to alert the chevaliers out in the field to reinforce us.” his face suddenly became drained of strength, “I fear that Aldanon is a lost cause, we can deal with his murderers once the darkspawn are dead.”
“I'm afraid not, Geoffrey.” Zevran said staunchly, “We cannot give up on Aldanon because we suspect the ones responsible for what seems to be his death haven't actually killed him. He's alive.” Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you suggesting that he was poisoned?” Geoffrey's eyes widened in shock.
“That's right!” Oghren answered gruffly, “We're on a mission to find him and try to heal him and if we can, find the ones who did this to him. They seem to be more powerful than we're giving them credit for.”
“We were tasked with finding d'Aubrac,” Osecar said, “but I suspect that joining forces will increase our chances of success; we find d'Aubrac then we find Aldanon. What do you say?” The other wardens needed no time to think. The decision was clear; Wardens and companions made their promise to fight alongside each other to see Aldanon saved, the darkspawn defeated, d'Aubrac's villainy ended, and the one behind this disaster unmasked.

Modifié par Maximus741000, 31 mars 2010 - 05:57 .

[Sisimka]

Dividing the forces, always an impossible choice. This instalment is much too short, Max!

[Maximus741000]

It was indeed too short, but here's something to really continue the story.

The Coup Begins

With the Grey Wardens, our chances of freeing Aldanon are much higher now, Wynne thought as she jogged to keep up with the younger members of the now larger group. They had been hot on the trail of d'Aubrac' forces carrying Aldanon's body for only a few moments, but the trail was beginning to look bleak with the other smaller battles they risked by trying to follow the Duke. Within the minute, a large company of Orlesian chevaliers and soldiers appeared out of the haze. The stopped in their tracks and drew their swords. Oghren, Geoffrey, Durin, Max and Argeles met them head on while Zevran weaved in and out of the enemy sending daggers into their backs and Elanea hailed them with arrows. Wynne remained behind the battle casting healing spells on anyone who sustained a serious wound, but Osecar had disappeared. Just as a chevalier knocked Elanea to the ground and raised her sword to finish her off, a flaming elven sword pierced his breastplate from behind; Osecar. He was clad in a heavy hauberk of silverite chainmail and seemed to fight with grace rather than strength, as if his magic was fuelling his fighting ability. The soldiers went down very quickly, the chevaliers were something else; they were more disciplined, more adept in combat, and better equipped. Geoffrey and Argeles had fought and trained with chevaliers before, and so knew how to counter them with skill rather than strength. But Oghren was not immune to their prowess; just as he plunged his axe to finish one off, a sword came down on his helmed head and he plummeted to the ground. It took Geoffrey, Durin and Osecar to slay their leader, a fanatic of a man with unbelievable strength, it took both of Argeles' daggers in his neck to finish him off. As soon as they collected themselves, Wynne turned to Oghren, he was grunting heavily and nursing the bleeding blow to the head. She chanted quietly and waved her hands over the wound, but Oghren did not show signs of recovery immediately.
“Sodding Stone, what hit me?” he coughed hoarsely as he felt the blow he'd received, and gritted his teeth in pain, Wynne applied the last of the healing magic to his head and started to bandage him up.
“I just saw the Duke and the Empress pass northwards,” Zev returned from the fog of the battle strewn city, “past the palace, they were on horseback with a whole company of chevaliers. The Marquis' body was being taken to the Cathedral, to be cremated, Maker rest his soul.” he became uncharacteristically sombre, something that puzzled Wynne because she was used to his pointless flirtations during the war. Zevran' tone became enraged all of the sudden, “As for Aldanon, he's being dragged across the ground by a draft horse. We need to move quickly.” in unified response, the whole group dashed through the streets.

It did not take them long to catch up with d'Aubrac and Celene, their patrol was marching single file northwards.  Celene looked as though her world had fallen apart, she seemed almost dead with grief and that there was little left of her; everyone could see it was torturing her to want war against Ferelden, but she acknowledged that the people will want war in vengeance. On the other hand, d'Aubrac was enjoying the measure of control he had over the Empress, but maintained a neutral look that did not contain his satisfaction, and strode about the burning buildings as if they were his own. In the chevaliers, there was a small measure of distrust over their actions, but not enough to fuel them to stop the madness. But behind the column was a golden-tinted body dragging across the floor, his armour making a harsh creaking as it slid over the stone; Aldanon. Maximus growled in a deep and vicious voice and sprung out for d'Aubrac to rip him apart, it took both dwarves to restrain him and even then he would snap at their hands to be free.
“By the Stone, why don't we just take them here and now, while they least suspect us!?” Oghren howled in rage,  stepping forward and drawing his axe, shouting “Asschabs!!”, but Elanea stuck an arrow through his boot, trapping him in place. He wrenched himself free only to be stopped in brief struggle by Durin.
“Oghren, well need to observe what they do.” Wynne urged the struggling dwarf, “If we attack, the Duke could kill Aldanon in a heartbeat. Aldanon is the priority here, if we can save him, we can save Orlais from d'Aubrac.” The other companions nodded in agreement and remained hidden behind the corner, while Elanea and Zevran clambered up the wall of the opposite building. The column of chevaliers stopped, d'Aubrac turned to Celene.
“I would like to know what you intend to accomplish, Claude.” Celene pleaded to her husband, grief still choking her, “I declared war without so much as a true inclination to want it, Ferelden won't stand for this.”
“My wife, what I desire is in the best interests of the Orlesian Empire”. He said in a worryingly calm voice, one that intrigued listeners and beckoned interest, “The Ferelden soldiers now lie either crushed or captured, those who have survived will not for long. We can soon turn our attention to the darkspawn.” just as he finished, a helmeted chevalier marched onto the scene bringing a young woman slung over his shoulder, struggling and cursing violently to be free. Wynne, Zevran and Oghren recognised that angry voice; it was Anora.
“Your Grace, I've successfully captured the Ferelden Queen, Anora.” the chevalier cast her at the Duke's feet, she lifted her head and spat violently at him. In a rage, d'Aubrac grabbed her by the arm and threw her to the ground.
“Good work, General Tremir,” he said as he grasped the chevalier's hand “now execute her.” Tremir stared at his lord in a surge of doubt and didn't draw his sword, and instead regarded Anora as she cowered on her back.
“Your Grace, I think it best that we merely imprison her at one of the castles. Killing her would anger the Fereldans and we should give peace between the nations a chance.” Tremir said in his deep, reasonable voice, it was evident he was not a man without honour. But d'Aubrac was not about to have his rule challenged.
“I order you to slay her!!” he seethed, he drew his sword and hovered it over her. “Or I will kill her myself.” Wynne stared at the Duke in horror, why wasn't the Empress acting? Zevran and Oghren exchanged mildly pleased looks, of all Aldanon's companions they were the ones who liked Anora the least. Tremir took over.
“Allow me to take her to be executed formally at the castle, my lord.” he persuaded d'Aubrac.
“Very well,” d'Aubrac concluded, regarding Anora distastefully, “Take her to be executed, but if I find her alive, I will have you exterminated alongside her as a traitor to Orlais.” though his helmet covered his face, everyone could see from his stiffened posture that the Duke's threat enraged him. He turned away from d'Aubrac, dragging a Anora with him, who had already given up the fight. Celene, who had remained motionless throughout that encounter come to life. She looked as though she had woken up from one nightmare and awoke in a new one.
“Claude, you have what you want, the Fereldans now lie imprisoned or killed,” she said firmly with a hint of grief, “but what if Aldanon's killers still lurk in the city, we need to stop them as soon as the darkspawn siege is lifted. We cannot afford to fight a war on three fronts.” d'Aubrac gave her a questioning, superior look, pacing around her. Correct to their suspicions, her guardians drew their weapons slowly and cautiously. The urge to spring into action was becoming too much for Wynne, Oghren and Geoffrey, but sense dictated them to remain where they were. They would wait until Celene and d'Aubrac were on the move again and try to get d'Aubrac away from Aldanon and hopefully gain Celene's support, or perhaps their inaction spelled further trouble.
“We'll wait a moment for reinforcements to join us in battle against the darkspawn – ah! Here they come.” within the moment, the sound of clinking armour and men on the march emerged from the  haze of smoke and rain. “Celene, chevaliers, it's time you were all introduced to your Lord's executive forces.” he strode out to the source of the marching, ahead of the Empress and her guard, his proud smile smeared across his face. “Perhaps they are not the kind you're used to, but they are certainly game for battle.” at his word, a company of twenty red steel-clad anderfel warriors emerged from the fog. Their great weapons, greatwords, mattocks, axes, mauls, were drawn and their lust for battle was mounting in their posture and look. Ahead of them was a giant, lupine brute of a man with a great battleaxe. The empress looked about in panic to find more of the brutes blocking the other streets. It was pure chance that Elanea had alerted the others on the ground to take cover in the alleys.
“I think I can see what your intentions are, Claude.” Celene said with a renewed strength and realisation of the crisis “And I assure you it ends here. I will not submit my rule to you, and I will see you hanged for what you've allowed the city to come to. You killed Aldanon, didn't you?! You could not master your grievances of the failed Orlesian Occupation! My chevaliers will end your attempt at power!” she raged in accusation, a hint of realisation as she addressed Aldanon's death. But d'Aubrac was remained unmoved and distant from her rage.
“I happen to have ways of making Emperors out of Dukes, by word or force. And I have more at my disposal than hirelings” he said coldly, “Kill her guards!! But leave her alive!” he roared out to Aundar and the mercenaries. At his response, a company of his chevaliers bearing his seal galloped into view. With the combined might of charging horsemen and enraged anderfels, the Empress' men stood no chance. They were knocked down by the charging lances and cut up by anderfel axes. This treachery was too much to simply watch.
“NOW! CHARGE!” Oghren roared out and sprung from hiding, his great battleaxe drawn and yelling in his berserker rage. Durin joined in, roaring at the top of his gravelly voice, as did Argeles, Maximus and eventually Geoffrey. Wynne and Osecar remained behind but drew their staffs and the two elven rogues seemed to have vanished into the shadows. Oghren's charging party had the advantage of surprise, in less than a few seconds the first of the mercenaries were either slain or driven back, and d'Aubrac's chevaliers' horses were spooked into flighty escape, rearing and whinnying as they went. Several riders were shot down by Elanea's marksman talents and taken by surprise by Zevran. The two elves exchanged amused glances which showed admiration for each other's abilities. This was a welcome opportunity for Celene, as soon as their attention was divided she sped across the street as fast as her dress would allow her. But she had not escaped d'Aubrac's notice, just as he succeeded in pinning Geoffrey to the ground, he gestured his chevaliers to give pursuit. To his left he caught and mounted a stray horse and rode off to join his men. Knowing the battle was lost, Aundar fled from his duel with Oghren and charged off with a handful of his men, taking Aldanon's body as he ran. The remaining mercenaries were eventually cut down. The battle did not last long due to the number and the wrath of Aldanon's valiant friends. Wynne moved about the exhausted group incanting her spirit healer spell and the elves searched the bodies for valuable equipment, either to sell or to use. There were also quite a few riderless horses.

“That bleeding, thunder-humping, nug-arse-kissing swine!” Oghren blurted out in pain and anger as Wynne hastily patched up his bandaged head, and now his left bicep notched slightly by Aundar's axe.
“We will have to move quickly,” Argeles said to the others, “But now the Empress has been taken, do we leave Aldanon, who may be dead, or do we give pursuit, save Celene and kill d'Aubrac?” he asked rhetorically.
“We already know the answer to that question, Argeles.” Zev said with unwavering loyalty in his voice, “Leaving Aldanon is out of the question, we don't even know where the Empress will be taken to.”
“I know where she's going,” Geoffrey's voice came forth evenly, “She'll have been taken to d'Aubrac's castle; Imperial Keep, north of the city along the Imperial Highway. But I agree with Zevran, we cannot leave Aldanon at the mercies of the mercenaries. But where did they go?” in answer to his question, Elanea jumped from a tall house to the middle of the encircled group. Beads of sweat were trickling down her from running.
“I managed to find the mercenaries,” she said breathlessly, “They're heading towards a series of abandoned warehouses, and Aldanon is with them.” at her word, Osecar's head sprung up and joined in.
“Of course!” he burst excitedly, “That's it! The source of the foul magic I detected earlier must have been their base!” The others gave him quizzical looks of confusion, “When we fought those mercenaries, there was a weak sense of dark magic around them, the same as the one at a warehouse that I passed when I found Aldanon.”
“So that's our destination, then? That's where our enemy lies” Wynne asked the two elves who nodded knowingly, “Then we must hurry, time is of the essence. Let us take the battle to them!”

Modifié par Maximus741000, 01 avril 2010 - 03:35 .

[MireliA]

I've finally caught up with your story I was surprised he turned on Celene but d'Aubrac is so power-hungry he would do anything to control the country.



And when you introduced the Anderfel warriors I had a Braveheart moment there.. Blue woad

[Maximus741000]

I'm really glad you enjoyed it, : )  Braveheart the blue woad scene from Braveheart did inspire me to some measure for how to introduce the Anderfel warriors. Now for more events from that dark night.

The Raising

From the magic wisp from within Marjolaine's lair, Leliana was able to see the events of that dark night. Upon the walls of the city, Warden-Commander Charles strode across the ramparts where bastions of soldiers battled the darkspawn. The man was showing signs of fatigue and evidence of growing doubt over the now staggeringly dire situation, but duty was his only sustenance. Arrows from both sides where hailing down and over the walls, and ignited projectiles from catapults and darkspawn emissaries had set the east side of the city ablaze. Where it not for the ballista bolts from the city's fleet soared over the walls to meet the darkspawn, the battle may have been lost all too soon, and while they were blind shots, their marks were largely successful, striking down many a foe and if lucky, siege weapons. New groups of soldiers were joining the fray, but not enough to turn the tide, and with more men dying every minute, there was no sign of victory. The ogres bore the siege towers up to the walls, Charles ordered the ballistae to reposition to take out the tops of the siege towers, but the sheer masses of hurlocks made that task for the soldiers on the walls nigh impossible, their sheer numbers and unbridled ferocity was a sort the soldiers of Val Royeaux had never seen. Charles would convene to those points where the hurlocks attacked, where his veteran skills and abilities were most needed. Soon the ballistae were in place and with a single shot to each tower, they would be reduced to matchwood, and the hurlocks to corpses. Leliana rejoiced at their victories, but faltered for fear when she saw the ogre ram. True to it's name, armoured ogres surrounded it and regular ogre pulled it across. The ram's steel head was fashioned in the likeness of the last Archdemon, and to the magic of the darkspawn emissaries, the steel turned red hot and burned. It crawled on towards the gate.

                                                                                             +++++++++++

In the western parts of the city, Aundar Jürgen's mercenaries, anderfels and elves, where storming through the city, assaulting the Empress's chevaliers and harrowing a group of Ferelden knights who survived the battle, led by Ser Perth. Soldiers fell in their wake, and all through the city, they plundered and looted at will, any who tried to stop them were slain. Though a valiant few had succeeded in slaying a few of them, they continued to wreak havoc in the city. The battles against the Empress's soldiers and knights were long, but the greater proportion of victories belonged to Marjolaine. Without the Royal Family to take command, the soldiers were left divided and leaderless, they would eventually be slain. The mercenaries' unrestrained fury knew no bounds, buildings were raised as often as riches were plundered, and innocent lives fell before their madness. This was their payment, the destruction and looting of Val Royeaux. Even the Grand Cathedral was not safe, with the aid of d'Aubrac's men, they broke down the gates, killed the templars and kidnapped the Divine Cleric and stole her aboard a horse. All this pain and devastation was an excruciating experience to watch.

                                                                                             +++++++++++

The wisp vanished, and Marjolaine stepped forth to the restrained Leliana, holding her struggling, squealing pet nug whom she found in her backpack, Schmooples, smiling contentedly and dangling the hapless nug from his leg while her adversary raged and pulled all her muscles to lash out at her deranged nemesis and rip her apart.
“I look forward to you seeing the finished product of my victory.” she said slowly in Leliana's ears.
“You claim to have achieved victory, Marjolaine, but Orlais will not stand for this transgression.” she seethed in a broken mix of grief and rage, tears streaking down her “You've divided Orlais' armies, allowed the darkspawn to attack and kidnapped Empress Celene. You have destroyed the very city you cherished, and for what!?”

“For revenge!!” Marjolaine turned and shouted, throwing Schmooples to the ground, causing Leliana to gasp in shock, she walked towards her victim “All that you've seen; Aldanon's death, the declaration of war against the dog-country Ferelden, the destruction of the city you loved; it was intended to strike at you! All that has happened has happened because I want you to see it. I wouldn't waste my revenge and simply kill you! I want you to witness the end of everything you hold dear, and watch as I rise from the dirt and the darkness to claim the glory ascending to Empress of Orlais. With me at the top and my men to keep order, I will raise the Orlesian Empire to new heights of glory and do what my father, Meghren, failed to achieve; I will conquer Ferelden and kill every living thing in that land, leaving it open for my Empire to expand. Everything that has come to pass has done so by my will. And you, you will be there to see it all, this is my revenge: your suffering.” at first, Leliana simply stared open-mouthed at her. Her face then contorted into what seemed to be a pure combination of grief, disgust, rage and pain; each emotion struggled to achieve mastery of her as she breathed heavily to expel emotion. In a brief, abrupt moment, she screamed. She screamed like all around her had never seen. She screamed out to the Maker in grief for Aldanon's death, Val Royeaux's burning, and Ferelden's end. She screamed out in rage and disgust against Marjolaine's lust for dominion, her growing insanity, and all the death her machination's had wrought. When all her breath was spent she allowed her body to collapse to the floor in exhaustion. She breathed heavily and deeply in pained sobs, tears streaking down her soft cheeks, it was as though Marjolaine had sucked the very life from her, all colour was fading and her voice was weakened.

“Then kill me.” she said, her voice and face had turned to stone; unmoving and cold. “Kill me and end it.”
“So you yield.” Marjolaine said mockingly, chuckling chokingly. “This is what I had hoped you would say in the end. I anticipated this, ever since you fell in love, you've been more feeble than a mouse. Mercy would dictate that I kill you, but I won't. Now bear witness to my next act.” she snapped her fingers. For a moment, nothing happened, but a strange humming of magic emanated from a hole in the floor. Marjolaine slipped one of her poisoned daggers over Leliana's arm, and her body was laid limp. The smith opened the restraints and allowed Marjolaine to drag her prisoner to the the flooring that overlooked the hole, which was now glowing with magic and the sounds of chanting were seeping from it like bile. A red light burst from the whole, and Leliana shut her eyes tightly. A minute passed in silence. A shuffling sound emerged which multiplied and became accompanied by gargled groaning and deep drawling. A decayed hand emerged from the hole. The hand lead a decomposed body. More walking corpses emerged from the hole, followed by groups of skeletons. They shambled out of the hole, a great reek rose wherever they trod, and their notched teeth were bared for all to see. Leliana gasped and uttered incoherently and attempted to break free, but Marjolaine strapped her to the restraining device.

“You are a monster, Marjolaine.” Leliana said bitterly, her face contorted in anger. But Marjolaine ignored her.
“They are my newest soldiers,” she said vaingloriously, “I will be unstoppable with these undead at my side.”
she turned to her and drew her daggers and Leliana heard the sound of mechanical clanking behind her..
“What amazes me after all this time, Marjolaine, is that you're still bone-dead stupid,” Leliana growled her captor down, and tensed up in anger. “I will be strong and withstand this destruction.” Marjolaine merely drew closer.
“But how much can you endure?” she said quietly as she slipped her dagger into Leliana's arm and the restraints stretched their hostage's limbs across.

Modifié par Maximus741000, 02 avril 2010 - 02:34 .

[Sisimka]

Argh, you post just as I'm walking out the door! I'll read this one tonight, Max!

[bob-san]

Maximus, I both commend and condem you for this tale.



Commend because this is, by far, an amazing tale. The best I have read.

Condem because now that I have caught up, I am forced to wait for further installments.



Write on my good man! Write on!

[Sisimka]

Your Marjolaine is truly shudder-worthy! *shudder* (and quite possibly mad?)

[MireliA]

I still wonder if Marjolaine is related to Flemeth in some way. She's that mad... And what she did to Schmooples too. Nasty piece of work

[Maximus741000]

@ bob-san, it thrills me to know that my writing is held in high regard, thank you sincerely. I shall write on! And yes, not having more installations at presents is quite condemning ; )

@ Sisimka, she certainly came across as very mad indeed when I first encountered her, she too gives me the shudders, *shudder* Nasty!

@ Mirelia, Flemeth may indeed be related to Marjolaine, but if you remember the Stolen Throne, you'll remember that King Meghren was possibly more mad, more sadistic and even more narcissistic. Nevertheless I'm glad she has come across as truly nasty material.