Zevran just isn't talking to me today so I won't be posting Chapter 5, it is sadly... thin.
Here's a link to something I posted in another thread last week. Pins and Needles.
Yes, it's me messing with Alistair again!
FanFiction/Art - Final Chapter (Aedan), (12/27) Interludes
Débuté par
Sisimka
, févr. 25 2010 05:06
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#677
Posté 09 avril 2010 - 09:15
DalishRanger
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Sisimka wrote...
Zevran just isn't talking to me today so I won't be posting Chapter 5, it is sadly... thin.
Uh-oh... I hope I didn't accidentally break your demon, Sisi...
#678
Posté 09 avril 2010 - 09:26
Sisimka
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DalishRanger wrote...
Sisimka wrote...
Zevran just isn't talking to me today so I won't be posting Chapter 5, it is sadly... thin.
Uh-oh... I hope I didn't accidentally break your demon, Sisi...
Some days it just doesn't happen. (And as you know, I've been working on a couple other projects.
)
#679
Posté 09 avril 2010 - 09:30
bob-san
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Well, I shall eagerly await the next chapter then. Hopefully it will give me something to drown out the dreariness of this job on Monday.
#680
Posté 09 avril 2010 - 10:07
Olwaye
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Zev is not tlaking to you Sisi?
He might be busy in someone else imagination, you know him, he comes, he goes, brings and takes.
Just hope he comes back to you soon enough, your story is great reading.
During his time out, I shall check your other project, you know the "evil" ones
He might be busy in someone else imagination, you know him, he comes, he goes, brings and takes.
Just hope he comes back to you soon enough, your story is great reading.
During his time out, I shall check your other project, you know the "evil" ones
#681
Posté 10 avril 2010 - 02:28
Kallian13
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Olwaye wrote...
Zev is not tlaking to you Sisi?
He might be busy in someone else imagination, you know him, he comes, he goes, brings and takes.
Just hope he comes back to you soon enough, your story is great reading.
During his time out, I shall check your other project, you know the "evil" ones
Ummm he's been in mine....and I guess I could give him back.....
#682
Posté 10 avril 2010 - 05:00
FerreusVir
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*panting* Maker...I read every post from page 5 on...my eyes are so bloody tired.
But I'll tell say this, you're an amazing writer. You have a knack for writing emotions and getting across how characters feel in a given situation. I swear it takes me a minute to 'logout' of your writing and come back to reality, lmao.
Been looking for inspiration to do my own fanfic of late and I think...you've supplied it. Thanks.
(Weird Note: Oddly enough, my own Warden is named Aedan as well! It was an auto-generated name and I figured it sounded better than 'Owny McStompsFace', weird eh?)
But I'll tell say this, you're an amazing writer. You have a knack for writing emotions and getting across how characters feel in a given situation. I swear it takes me a minute to 'logout' of your writing and come back to reality, lmao.
Been looking for inspiration to do my own fanfic of late and I think...you've supplied it. Thanks.
(Weird Note: Oddly enough, my own Warden is named Aedan as well! It was an auto-generated name and I figured it sounded better than 'Owny McStompsFace', weird eh?)
#683
Posté 10 avril 2010 - 11:14
Sisimka
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Thanks so much for your kind words, Ferreus. I have a criminal amount of fun writing my stories, I'm glad you enjoyed them. As for Aedan's name, I think it is the default male human noble name but I just loved it and didn't want to change it. I sometimes wish I had in order to differentiate my warden from everyone else's, but now that I've been writing him for so long I couldn't. He's just 'my' Aedan.
And yes, it's a definite improvement over Owny McStompsFace! (I suggest you use that one for your casteless dwarf, has quite the ring to it!)
Story Update:
Zev's whispering again (and I've neglected to take an Allergy pill this morning) so I might actually get Chapter five written today! But it is Saturday and the D&D crew is assembling (alright, I lie, most of them are probably still sleeping), and I will be spending my afternoon in the bloody underdark again, sooooooooooo, I'll try and get this done beforehand! Cheers to you all for your patience!
Edit: Olwaye, haven't started on the truly EVIL
projects yet, still had Ropes 'n Puddin' to finish! 
And yes, it's a definite improvement over Owny McStompsFace! (I suggest you use that one for your casteless dwarf, has quite the ring to it!)
Story Update:
Zev's whispering again (and I've neglected to take an Allergy pill this morning) so I might actually get Chapter five written today! But it is Saturday and the D&D crew is assembling (alright, I lie, most of them are probably still sleeping), and I will be spending my afternoon in the bloody underdark again, sooooooooooo, I'll try and get this done beforehand! Cheers to you all for your patience!
Edit: Olwaye, haven't started on the truly EVIL
projects yet, still had Ropes 'n Puddin' to finish!
Modifié par Sisimka, 10 avril 2010 - 11:29 .
#684
Posté 10 avril 2010 - 02:02
Sisimka
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Chapter Five
“The leader of the Brethren is a woman?” Did he just say that out loud?
Cerin tossed back her head and laughed. The sound chilled Zevran. Though quite obviously struck with mirth, Cerin’s laugh did not sound completely sincere, more something she produced for effect.
“Oh, Zevran, you are more than charming, you are amusing too!”
Zevran felt off balance. Though her features were Antivan, Cerin did not speak with the same accent. Tevinter coloured her words and phrasing. Yet, she seemed well established in a country that frowned upon women who bore arms. He wondered how many people knew the most famed assassin in perhaps all of Thedas was a woman.
Zevran quickly recovered his sensibilities and attempted to rise, leaning forward from the couch, and tendered a half bow. “It is a pleasure then to make your acquaintance, Cerin. To what do I owe the honour of an audience with the fabled leader of the Brethren?”
Cerin pouted now. “Come, Zevran, you would show you are charming and amusing, but not also intelligent?”
Zevran chuckled in return. The sound effectively hid his sigh. When had be actually become tired of playing these games? Perhaps as he realised he’d been in Antiva for less than a day – a glance at the window confirmed night still owned the sky – and he’d already been captured by two rival guilds. Oh yes, Ferelden had definitely made him soft. Juilden had the right of it there. Juilden, where was his brother now? Planning yet another daring rescue, waiting for more distraction or quietly patting himself on the back for a job well done?
“Let us pretend I am playing your game, Cerin, and that you are the superior opponent.”
Cerin narrowed her eyes at his and pursed her lips. “Alright, I find that amusing. You are here because I had you summoned.”
“Ah, the deflection, nicely done! Let me guess, you are here… because you had me summoned!” Zevran winked carefully at her, wondering how far he could push someone of such legendary status.
Cerin clapped her hands. “Oh, a point to you, Zevran! Would you care to play again?”
Zevran spread his hands. “I am at your whim it seems. Let me see, you have always wanted to meet the fabled Zevran Arainai and here I am.”
Cerin raised a brow. “Partly true, my dear. I am quite tickled at meeting you, yes! But I could have done so at any time, and at much less expense. No, I will admit, and this will cost me a point, that you are not here solely on my whim.”
Zevran tilted his head and studied those honey coloured eyes intensely. She did not flinch but coolly met his gaze. She hadn’t told him anything he couldn’t have figured out for himself, they both knew that. He decided to try a new tactic.
“Well you have certainly saved a lot of time and effort on my part, and I would thank you for it.” He swept her a bow.
Cerin chuckled, not an amused sound, and this time none of her humour reached her eyes. “Are we at the part where you tell me why you have returned to Antiva, Zevran?”
“Ah, a clever move, and now you ask a question you already know the answer to!”
She conceded his point with a wave of her hand and Zevran noticed that a change had come over her manner. She seemed less humored now, more business-like.
“It would have been better hand you not come, Zevran. It is true, I find you wonderfully charming and amusing. Even intelligent perhaps. It is a shame you are too pretty to recruit or I might have made you one of my own.”
Zevran raised his brows at this and considered her words. She sounded almost wistful. But as he watched her, any regret he might have glimpsed washed from her face and she smiled once more.
“But gold is gold and now this contract is at an end.”
“Tsk, is our game over already, Cerin? And I had just begun to enjoy myself.”
Cerin chuckled before lifting her chin in a quick gesture and Zevran heard the door opening behind him. Rather than turn his head he waited for the visitor to round the couch and stand beside her chair. A brethren, plain and simple, looked impassively at him while listening to Cerin’s instructions.
“Take him to the dungeon. The client will be here to collect him this afternoon.”
The assassin escorted him from the room and Zevran noted with pride that four more waited in the hallway. It amused him to think his reputation caused such an honor guard, that even without his weapons they considered him dangerous. The five men closed about him and they walked to the end of the hallway to the ubiquitous heavy wooden door, another entrance to the catacombs and aqueducts that snaked beneath Antiva City.
They descended one flight of stairs and turned into a dungeon. Zevran could feel the weight of the building pressing above him. The ceiling was low, the air dank and no natural light reached this far below the ground. Crude torches flickered against the stone wall, each one set between doors made of iron grillwork. Zevran did not feel surprise or the need to remark upon the fact that most of the cells were occupied, the Crows’ dungeon had always been similarly filled. They thrust him through the last door and the grill clanged shut. This cell already contained one occupant and as Zevran’s eyes grew accustomed to the dim light his shoulders slumped in sadness.
Juilden looked up and shook his head wearily. His voice rasped hoarsely. “Brother, I am sorry. I had to do it. Now that I am truly dead, I will tell you everything.
Juilden’s voice had deepened and the mask had slipped. Naked pain was evident in his eyes, his face and his manner. Zevran could feel it as though it were his own. He crouched next to his brother and laid a hand on the slumped shoulder. “I am listening.”
“I made a mistake, Zevran.” Juilden dropped his gaze to the dirty stone floor. “I accused you of being soft.” His shoulders shrugged a little. “But I spoke only of myself.”
“We all have our weaknesses, Juilden. Tell me what happened.”
“I heard something and I intervened. I killed without a contract and caused a war.”
Zevran raised his brows. A war between the Crows and the Brethren. Quite an accomplishment that. “How? Juilden, what have you done?”
“I saved your life, brother. That is what I have done. I diverted the path of Crows and even killed fellow assassins.”
“You did what? Juilden, not that I am not grateful for your intervention, but why would you do this?” Stunned didn’t even begin to describe Zevran’s reaction to this news. They had not been trained this way, love and loyalty to anything but themselves had literally been beaten out of them from a young age onwards. What had changed Juilden so drastically?
“We were always taught that family did not matter, eh? I believed it for a time, I hardened my heart, we all did. But it is stone no longer, and now that I am done, I find that I do not regret it. Even to have been happy for such a small time was worth all of it.”
Zevran felt a chill and he dropped his hand from Juilden’s shoulder. He suddenly understood. “Ah, Juilden, you met someone, you fell in love, am I correct?”
Juilden hesitated and his voice dropped to a whisper, “I have a wife and a child.”
Zevran stilled in shock. An assassin with a wife and child? Juilden laughed harshly and raised his voice. “Why am I whispering, brother? If it were a secret I wouldn’t be here and neither would you.”
“They live still, your wife, your child?” Zevran held his breath as he waited for the answer.
“I do not know, I am told they do. If there is even the slightest chance they are, well, I do not expect you to understand, Zevran, but I would do anything…”
Zevran interrupted. “I understand.” And he did. He only had to call to mind Aedan and the man’s love for his wife and his two children, even though one of his sons did not share his blood. Zevran knew that Aedan would walk to the end of Thedas itself, and then into the ocean if necessary, for his family. Sometimes he envied it, but mostly he did not. Perhaps that was the reason he distanced himself from Kayley. He squeezed Juilden’s shoulder gently and repeated himself. “Juilden, I understand. But tell me, why am I here? This is not about Alistair Theirin, is it?”
“No, Zevran, it is not. Oh, the contract is real and this Anora Mac Tir did put her name to it, but as I am sure you have guessed, an exiled queen does not have that much gold at her disposal. No, another pulls her strings. Someone who went through a lot of Crows to find you and now for the sake of my wife and child I have betrayed my brother and delivered you to his hands.”
Juilden’s shoulders shook then and Zevran was not surprised when his brother began to cry. The gentle sobs came from a truly broken man. He found himself tempted to offer comfort and fought the urge for a time before he gave into it and hugged Juilden. It was a different experience entirely to initiate a hug, he discovered. Aedan and Leliana were always hugging him. He often wondered how Aedan managed to kill anything it all he acted with such affection toward his friends and companions. Even the King of Ferelden himself had clasped Zevran in fondness a time or two. But this felt different, this time Zevran actually sought to offer comfort, and to a brother. He felt something moist on his cheek and told himself it must have dropped from the ceiling, these dungeons were quite damp, after all.
When Juilden stopped shaking, Zevran hastily dropped his arms and sat back, resting his buttocks on the ground and massaging his sore calves. He had crouched before his brother for too long. He gave Juilden some time to collect himself before asking his next question.
“Who is after me, Juilden?”
Juilden shook his head sadly. “Zevran, I do not know. I was sent to Ferelden to lure you back to Antiva. Now that my part is done, I am dead. Perhaps my family is too. I am truly sorry.”
Zevran growled softly beneath his breath. “You still draw breath Juilden, as do I. This game is not over yet.”
Juilden lifted his hands and gestured the stone walls about them.
Zevran began picking at the leather of his armor. The skirt had been reinforced with metal plates here and there, and some were oddly shaped. To most they would appear decorative, which suited Zevran, he not only liked the pattern and the distinction of it, but knew that his preference for having such a pattern would render it almost invisible. The pattern repeated around the skirt, but two of the pieces were made of a different sort of metal, they were not merely decorative. They were in fact thieves’ tools and as he unpicked them one by one, Juilden’s eyes widened slightly and he uttered a weak laugh.
“So you are the clever one after all, Zevran, and not merely a vain fool.”
Zevran raised a brow. “I am glad I amuse you so. Unfortunately, my cleverness will only get us so far. Yes, I have the tools, but alas…” he shrugged, remembering Leliana’s laughter the first time he had attempted to pick a lock in front of her. “I am not skilled with them.” He gestured the lock welded into the iron grate at the front of the cell. “Even such a crude device is beyond me. In time, I may succeed, if I do not break the tools first.”
He finished picking at the stitches and pulled at the rivets that held the bottoms of the two tools in place, succeeded in ripping them out without damaging the leather too badly and held them out to Juilden with a smile. “But as I remember, brother, your fingers are quite nimble!”
Juilden took the tools and studied them a minute. The small smile had faded from his mouth and his face tensed. He looked up. “You would take me with you? Even after what I have done?”
“Maybe I need your help to find Anora and whoever is backing her. When we are done, perhaps I will give you that painless death after all.”
Juilden stared at him and Zevran felt something like a flush steal over his cheeks and he looked away and swallowed. Soft, he was soft. After all those trials and years of being a trained killer, his time in Ferelden had changed him. He should have died on that stretch of highway, but instead two hapless wardens had given him another chance, and another purpose. He had friends, good friends, and now he had a brother, a real brother.
He gestured the lock. “Why don’t you demonstrate your skills for me, hm?”
“The leader of the Brethren is a woman?” Did he just say that out loud?
Cerin tossed back her head and laughed. The sound chilled Zevran. Though quite obviously struck with mirth, Cerin’s laugh did not sound completely sincere, more something she produced for effect.
“Oh, Zevran, you are more than charming, you are amusing too!”
Zevran felt off balance. Though her features were Antivan, Cerin did not speak with the same accent. Tevinter coloured her words and phrasing. Yet, she seemed well established in a country that frowned upon women who bore arms. He wondered how many people knew the most famed assassin in perhaps all of Thedas was a woman.
Zevran quickly recovered his sensibilities and attempted to rise, leaning forward from the couch, and tendered a half bow. “It is a pleasure then to make your acquaintance, Cerin. To what do I owe the honour of an audience with the fabled leader of the Brethren?”
Cerin pouted now. “Come, Zevran, you would show you are charming and amusing, but not also intelligent?”
Zevran chuckled in return. The sound effectively hid his sigh. When had be actually become tired of playing these games? Perhaps as he realised he’d been in Antiva for less than a day – a glance at the window confirmed night still owned the sky – and he’d already been captured by two rival guilds. Oh yes, Ferelden had definitely made him soft. Juilden had the right of it there. Juilden, where was his brother now? Planning yet another daring rescue, waiting for more distraction or quietly patting himself on the back for a job well done?
“Let us pretend I am playing your game, Cerin, and that you are the superior opponent.”
Cerin narrowed her eyes at his and pursed her lips. “Alright, I find that amusing. You are here because I had you summoned.”
“Ah, the deflection, nicely done! Let me guess, you are here… because you had me summoned!” Zevran winked carefully at her, wondering how far he could push someone of such legendary status.
Cerin clapped her hands. “Oh, a point to you, Zevran! Would you care to play again?”
Zevran spread his hands. “I am at your whim it seems. Let me see, you have always wanted to meet the fabled Zevran Arainai and here I am.”
Cerin raised a brow. “Partly true, my dear. I am quite tickled at meeting you, yes! But I could have done so at any time, and at much less expense. No, I will admit, and this will cost me a point, that you are not here solely on my whim.”
Zevran tilted his head and studied those honey coloured eyes intensely. She did not flinch but coolly met his gaze. She hadn’t told him anything he couldn’t have figured out for himself, they both knew that. He decided to try a new tactic.
“Well you have certainly saved a lot of time and effort on my part, and I would thank you for it.” He swept her a bow.
Cerin chuckled, not an amused sound, and this time none of her humour reached her eyes. “Are we at the part where you tell me why you have returned to Antiva, Zevran?”
“Ah, a clever move, and now you ask a question you already know the answer to!”
She conceded his point with a wave of her hand and Zevran noticed that a change had come over her manner. She seemed less humored now, more business-like.
“It would have been better hand you not come, Zevran. It is true, I find you wonderfully charming and amusing. Even intelligent perhaps. It is a shame you are too pretty to recruit or I might have made you one of my own.”
Zevran raised his brows at this and considered her words. She sounded almost wistful. But as he watched her, any regret he might have glimpsed washed from her face and she smiled once more.
“But gold is gold and now this contract is at an end.”
“Tsk, is our game over already, Cerin? And I had just begun to enjoy myself.”
Cerin chuckled before lifting her chin in a quick gesture and Zevran heard the door opening behind him. Rather than turn his head he waited for the visitor to round the couch and stand beside her chair. A brethren, plain and simple, looked impassively at him while listening to Cerin’s instructions.
“Take him to the dungeon. The client will be here to collect him this afternoon.”
The assassin escorted him from the room and Zevran noted with pride that four more waited in the hallway. It amused him to think his reputation caused such an honor guard, that even without his weapons they considered him dangerous. The five men closed about him and they walked to the end of the hallway to the ubiquitous heavy wooden door, another entrance to the catacombs and aqueducts that snaked beneath Antiva City.
They descended one flight of stairs and turned into a dungeon. Zevran could feel the weight of the building pressing above him. The ceiling was low, the air dank and no natural light reached this far below the ground. Crude torches flickered against the stone wall, each one set between doors made of iron grillwork. Zevran did not feel surprise or the need to remark upon the fact that most of the cells were occupied, the Crows’ dungeon had always been similarly filled. They thrust him through the last door and the grill clanged shut. This cell already contained one occupant and as Zevran’s eyes grew accustomed to the dim light his shoulders slumped in sadness.
Juilden looked up and shook his head wearily. His voice rasped hoarsely. “Brother, I am sorry. I had to do it. Now that I am truly dead, I will tell you everything.
Juilden’s voice had deepened and the mask had slipped. Naked pain was evident in his eyes, his face and his manner. Zevran could feel it as though it were his own. He crouched next to his brother and laid a hand on the slumped shoulder. “I am listening.”
“I made a mistake, Zevran.” Juilden dropped his gaze to the dirty stone floor. “I accused you of being soft.” His shoulders shrugged a little. “But I spoke only of myself.”
“We all have our weaknesses, Juilden. Tell me what happened.”
“I heard something and I intervened. I killed without a contract and caused a war.”
Zevran raised his brows. A war between the Crows and the Brethren. Quite an accomplishment that. “How? Juilden, what have you done?”
“I saved your life, brother. That is what I have done. I diverted the path of Crows and even killed fellow assassins.”
“You did what? Juilden, not that I am not grateful for your intervention, but why would you do this?” Stunned didn’t even begin to describe Zevran’s reaction to this news. They had not been trained this way, love and loyalty to anything but themselves had literally been beaten out of them from a young age onwards. What had changed Juilden so drastically?
“We were always taught that family did not matter, eh? I believed it for a time, I hardened my heart, we all did. But it is stone no longer, and now that I am done, I find that I do not regret it. Even to have been happy for such a small time was worth all of it.”
Zevran felt a chill and he dropped his hand from Juilden’s shoulder. He suddenly understood. “Ah, Juilden, you met someone, you fell in love, am I correct?”
Juilden hesitated and his voice dropped to a whisper, “I have a wife and a child.”
Zevran stilled in shock. An assassin with a wife and child? Juilden laughed harshly and raised his voice. “Why am I whispering, brother? If it were a secret I wouldn’t be here and neither would you.”
“They live still, your wife, your child?” Zevran held his breath as he waited for the answer.
“I do not know, I am told they do. If there is even the slightest chance they are, well, I do not expect you to understand, Zevran, but I would do anything…”
Zevran interrupted. “I understand.” And he did. He only had to call to mind Aedan and the man’s love for his wife and his two children, even though one of his sons did not share his blood. Zevran knew that Aedan would walk to the end of Thedas itself, and then into the ocean if necessary, for his family. Sometimes he envied it, but mostly he did not. Perhaps that was the reason he distanced himself from Kayley. He squeezed Juilden’s shoulder gently and repeated himself. “Juilden, I understand. But tell me, why am I here? This is not about Alistair Theirin, is it?”
“No, Zevran, it is not. Oh, the contract is real and this Anora Mac Tir did put her name to it, but as I am sure you have guessed, an exiled queen does not have that much gold at her disposal. No, another pulls her strings. Someone who went through a lot of Crows to find you and now for the sake of my wife and child I have betrayed my brother and delivered you to his hands.”
Juilden’s shoulders shook then and Zevran was not surprised when his brother began to cry. The gentle sobs came from a truly broken man. He found himself tempted to offer comfort and fought the urge for a time before he gave into it and hugged Juilden. It was a different experience entirely to initiate a hug, he discovered. Aedan and Leliana were always hugging him. He often wondered how Aedan managed to kill anything it all he acted with such affection toward his friends and companions. Even the King of Ferelden himself had clasped Zevran in fondness a time or two. But this felt different, this time Zevran actually sought to offer comfort, and to a brother. He felt something moist on his cheek and told himself it must have dropped from the ceiling, these dungeons were quite damp, after all.
When Juilden stopped shaking, Zevran hastily dropped his arms and sat back, resting his buttocks on the ground and massaging his sore calves. He had crouched before his brother for too long. He gave Juilden some time to collect himself before asking his next question.
“Who is after me, Juilden?”
Juilden shook his head sadly. “Zevran, I do not know. I was sent to Ferelden to lure you back to Antiva. Now that my part is done, I am dead. Perhaps my family is too. I am truly sorry.”
Zevran growled softly beneath his breath. “You still draw breath Juilden, as do I. This game is not over yet.”
Juilden lifted his hands and gestured the stone walls about them.
Zevran began picking at the leather of his armor. The skirt had been reinforced with metal plates here and there, and some were oddly shaped. To most they would appear decorative, which suited Zevran, he not only liked the pattern and the distinction of it, but knew that his preference for having such a pattern would render it almost invisible. The pattern repeated around the skirt, but two of the pieces were made of a different sort of metal, they were not merely decorative. They were in fact thieves’ tools and as he unpicked them one by one, Juilden’s eyes widened slightly and he uttered a weak laugh.
“So you are the clever one after all, Zevran, and not merely a vain fool.”
Zevran raised a brow. “I am glad I amuse you so. Unfortunately, my cleverness will only get us so far. Yes, I have the tools, but alas…” he shrugged, remembering Leliana’s laughter the first time he had attempted to pick a lock in front of her. “I am not skilled with them.” He gestured the lock welded into the iron grate at the front of the cell. “Even such a crude device is beyond me. In time, I may succeed, if I do not break the tools first.”
He finished picking at the stitches and pulled at the rivets that held the bottoms of the two tools in place, succeeded in ripping them out without damaging the leather too badly and held them out to Juilden with a smile. “But as I remember, brother, your fingers are quite nimble!”
Juilden took the tools and studied them a minute. The small smile had faded from his mouth and his face tensed. He looked up. “You would take me with you? Even after what I have done?”
“Maybe I need your help to find Anora and whoever is backing her. When we are done, perhaps I will give you that painless death after all.”
Juilden stared at him and Zevran felt something like a flush steal over his cheeks and he looked away and swallowed. Soft, he was soft. After all those trials and years of being a trained killer, his time in Ferelden had changed him. He should have died on that stretch of highway, but instead two hapless wardens had given him another chance, and another purpose. He had friends, good friends, and now he had a brother, a real brother.
He gestured the lock. “Why don’t you demonstrate your skills for me, hm?”
Modifié par Sisimka, 10 avril 2010 - 04:04 .
#685
Posté 10 avril 2010 - 05:50
flanad
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Sisi
New to this forum but just wanted to reiiterate what every other person here has said about your writing. AMAZING. Read through Gifts first then just had to read Hero to understand it all. Now I cannot wait for the next installment of Brothers In Arms. The way you evince the richness of the characters is very impressive.
BTW I wish I knew where D&D still existed near me--haven't played in over 25yrs. Great memories abound.
New to this forum but just wanted to reiiterate what every other person here has said about your writing. AMAZING. Read through Gifts first then just had to read Hero to understand it all. Now I cannot wait for the next installment of Brothers In Arms. The way you evince the richness of the characters is very impressive.
BTW I wish I knew where D&D still existed near me--haven't played in over 25yrs. Great memories abound.
#686
Posté 10 avril 2010 - 06:30
Sisimka
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Thank you, Flanad. It never ceases to amaze me when people find Hero and read it. Thanks for taking the time and I'm glad you enjoyed it. Your comments are very flattering! I only hope my writing continues to improve with time.
#687
Posté 10 avril 2010 - 06:37
DalishRanger
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Sisimka wrote...
I only hope my writing continues to improve with time.
If it somehow got worse (which I doubt), you'd still be setting the bar high for lots of fic writers. Just sayin'.
#688
Posté 10 avril 2010 - 11:27
Olwaye
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Sisi, your stories are a great storyteller, you can do fuff and kink( Devil know that! ) and are truly good at epic, you do have a real sens of rythm in your stories too, so they are highly entertaining.
There is something akin to David Gemmell in your fics as far as I can tell.
By the way Zev really is going soft he hasn't deserted you for long, he must like you very much
) and are truly good at epic, you do have a real sens of rythm in your stories too, so they are highly entertaining. There is something akin to David Gemmell in your fics as far as I can tell.
By the way Zev really is going soft he hasn't deserted you for long, he must like you very much
#689
Posté 11 avril 2010 - 01:42
Sandtigress
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Aww, Zev is such a softie. ^-^ Waiting for the next chapter, don't get lost in the Underdark tonight!
#690
Posté 11 avril 2010 - 02:25
Sisimka
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Don't be fooled by the single tear! Remember, Zevran is not Aedan. 
Glad you're all enjoying the story.
Olwaye: I LOVE David Gemmell. Legend is one of my top ten books EVER! The battle strategy is just epic, I could read it over and OVER just for that. (Has someone been giving you links to my kink??)
Sandi: Made it out of the underdark, teleported to a town of a not so nice religion, had to bribe our way out of prison, stomped a 12 headed hydra and found yet ANOTHER entrance to the bloody underdark. All in all, not a bad night. We're leveling now, oh the tedium...
Glad you're all enjoying the story.
Olwaye: I LOVE David Gemmell. Legend is one of my top ten books EVER! The battle strategy is just epic, I could read it over and OVER just for that. (Has someone been giving you links to my kink??)
Sandi: Made it out of the underdark, teleported to a town of a not so nice religion, had to bribe our way out of prison, stomped a 12 headed hydra and found yet ANOTHER entrance to the bloody underdark. All in all, not a bad night. We're leveling now, oh the tedium...
Modifié par Sisimka, 11 avril 2010 - 02:26 .
#691
Posté 11 avril 2010 - 03:52
bob-san
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Yaa! A night of gaming DA followed by a new Sisi chapter. A perfect ending to a nice evening. I'm definitely liking the changes that are coming over Zev. I'm sure over time he'd realize he's not soft. Just that his priorities have changed, Nicely done Sisi.
BTW, is this Underdark in a custom setting? Or a Realms campaign? Curious, being a Realms fan myself.
BTW, is this Underdark in a custom setting? Or a Realms campaign? Curious, being a Realms fan myself.
#692
Posté 11 avril 2010 - 11:46
Sisimka
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bob-san wrote...
Yaa! A night of gaming DA followed by a new Sisi chapter. A perfect ending to a nice evening. I'm definitely liking the changes that are coming over Zev. I'm sure over time he'd realize he's not soft. Just that his priorities have changed, Nicely done Sisi.
BTW, is this Underdark in a custom setting? Or a Realms campaign? Curious, being a Realms fan myself.
We play in Faerun (Realms) but we have our own map? So a bit of a custom setting within a familiar world. We've named our own towns and we've been in the setting for so long (some of the players for over ten years) that most of the NPCs we meet are 'retired' characters of the DM's and such. Yes, we are nerds. We all play two characters each because we like to be confusing and this makes our battles rather EPIC! I play a monk that everyone HATES (*mad cackle*) and a warrior that everyone wants to... um... you know. Oddly, my monk and warrior usually get along until something divides their alignments, which does happen quite a bit (Monk is CN and Warrior is LG - yes, further evidence of my insanity there. The DM has tried to kill my monk so many times, SO MANY TIMES!).
I love the FR setting. I've read nearly all of R.A.S. books (Drizzt is my HERO, he's so angsty!), and quite a few others. Our current campaign has been going for ... four years?
So, now that I've established just how much of a nerd I REALLY AM, I shall sneak off and write a little more Zevran.
Modifié par Sisimka, 11 avril 2010 - 11:48 .
#693
Posté 11 avril 2010 - 03:26
Sisimka
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Chapter Six
Juilden had no problem with the lock. He looked at Zevran, an appraising glance, and then pocketed the tools. Zevran shrugged lightly and nodded. Both rogues came to stillness, sitting near to door and used their senses to detect what might be going on in the dungeon. Zevran had noted no guards within the area that housed the cells, but they would hardly be necessary inside a hole which had only one exit. The guards would be outside the door.
Zevran began removing more items from his armour and Juilden looked on with an amused expression. “Obviously, the only way to capture you properly is to strip you naked.”
Zevran chuckled. “I am not entirely defenseless without my clothes, Juilden. Some have been known to find me more devastating when naked.” He picked at the wire secured beneath his belt. He handed the belt itself to Juilden. “If my pants fall down, take advantage of the distraction.” He winked and Juilden smiled.
Zevran considered his brother a moment longer. “We will no doubt leave a trail of bodies on our way out. There will be no turning back – for you, or for me.”
Juilden nodded softly. “As we have both reminded each other more than once, we are both dead men anyway. Tell me Zevran, what cause drove you here? Are you really so loyal to this king?”
Zevran let out an impatient sigh. He did not really want to discuss his loyalties at this point, but considering what Juilden had divulged, the question was fair. “I am, yes.” He raised a hand to forestall Juilden’s next question. “I am not in service to Alistair. I am merely doing a favour, for a friend.”
Juilden raised his brows, but did not question further or jest. The matter closed.
So armed with nothing but a string of wire, a belt and their wits the two rogues slipped from their cell and melted into the shadows. They zigzagged down the narrow hallway, avoiding the spill of light from each torch, until they reached the door. Zevran placed his ear to the wood and listened. Silence, but not an empty silence, he could hear breathing. He counted. After a minute or two he held up two fingers and Juilden nodded. The door opened inward, which suited Zevran just fine. He pressed himself against one wall and Juilden slipped out the tools and set to work on the lock. He took his time, working deftly and silently and several minutes passed before he pocketed the tools once more. Juilden took a deep breath, pulled on the door and the stepped back into shadow.
The door creaked open slowly, not more than three inches, and nothing happened. Zevran waited silently and Juilden did the same. It became a game, four rogues waiting in the shadows to see who would move first. Half an hour crept past and Zevran had to shift slightly to ease cramping muscles. Finally he heard a scuff from outside the door. A voice sounded through the dimness. “Why is the door open?”
They had to move now! That a third person had arrived outside the door presented a problem, but if the door closed again, their chance was gone. Zevran leapt through the doorway, and kicked at the first man he saw. His booted foot landed right where he aimed it, below the belt, and the elf he’d struck collapsed to the floor with a soft ‘Oof’. Zevran did not wait to see this, he whirled, an elbow aimed at about the level of his own solar plexus, and prayed his next target was another elf of similar statue. It was. He drove the point of his elbow just below the man’s chest, driving air from his lungs and as he doubled over, Zevran looped the wire about his throat, crossed his hands and pulled, hard. The gagging noises from behind him indicated Juilden had done much the same. He could hear the third elf scuffling about on the floor, attempting to regain his feet and he pulled tighter against his makeshift garrote, sealing the airway and mortally bruising the throat.
The third elf made it to his feet and swung his head between Zevran and Juilden, picking his target. Zevran invited him with a quick lift of his chin and the elf drew his blades and charged. Leaning on his current victim, whose struggles were weakening, Zevran shot his leg out in a side kick, his heel catching the rushing elf in the gut. Not a debilitating blow, but enough to distract. The elf beneath him finally sank to the ground, taking Zevran with him. Zevran pulled the daggers from the dead elf’s back and whirled to meet the next charge, the resulting clash of steel echoing of the low ceiling. Not good. A sound such as that would bring more guards. This fight needed to be done with quickly. Juilden had similarly relieved his victim of weapons and with a turn and thrust, lodged both of them hilt deep into that third elf’s back. The elf dropped to his knees, blood spilling from his lips and died.
Clutching their new weapons, Zevran and Juilden stepped over the three bodies. Zevran took a moment to retrieve his belt and they paused at the heavy wooden door that led to the house. Zevran looked at Juilden and his brother shook his head once and then jerked it to the left, indicating they continue down into the aqueducts. Zevran moved close to Juilden and whispered against his ear, “My weapons, I am quite fond of my dagger.”
Juilden looked at him a moment, his expression grim, and then nodded once, a short jerk. Sheathing his daggers, he took out the thieves’ tools and worked the lock. This door opened outward and so they rushed it, pushing through with draggers pointed forward. The hallway was empty. Juilden looked at Zevran and his expression clearly indicated that this did not sit well with the brethren. He looked meaningfully down the hallway and the pair of them slipped into shadow and made their way toward the armory.
They passed no guards, no brethren, nobody at all, and slipped unnoticed inside the room.
“Brother, something is going on, it should not be so deserted here. It is this war I started, I am sure of it. That battle we left in the aqueducts must have continued, or spilled into another venue.”
Zevran nodded. “It is to our advantage then.” He pulled out his borrowed daggers and tossed them aside as he searched the room for his own weapons. He found both of his blades laid out on a table at the back of the room. They had been cleaned and oiled. Smiling at them, feeling as though he greeted old friends, Zevran picked them up and hefted them in his hands. Juilden popped his head over his shoulder and whistled softly.
“That is indeed a fine dagger, Zevran, and worth the detour. Such a weapon came from this Ferelden?”
“Not originally, no. I am not entirely sure of the origin. The dagger was a gift, its former owner a rogue of much repute.”
“Gifted from his dead body, no doubt.” Juilden’s eyes sparkled with humour.
Zevran scowled. “Not a spoil of victory, not this time. A true gift.”
Juilden looked at him oddly before nodding and moving away to select some better weapons for himself.
Zevran admired Duncan’s dagger once more and slipped it into the sheath at his back. He then perused the armory for other items of interest. The pair of them pocketed some potions, a couple flasks of poison and a pair of fiery bombs. Zevran grinned at the last. Things might get chaotic, and that would be good, he had moped around enough these past few hours.
They poisoned their weapons before they left the armory and had a chance to use them just outside the door. Two brethren about to enter the armory were met with pointed steel, their throats cut, their voices silenced.
“If this battle is in the aqueducts, let us take our chances on the streets.”
Juilden nodded briefly and indicated the deeper recesses of the house. “We will try the back entrance.”
They met no one on the way to the rear of the building and slipped unnoticed into the cobblestoned courtyard beyond. Two brethren stood guard at the rear gate and Zevran and Juilden approached one each, silently. Zevran’s target whirled just before he struck, a blade whispering across Zevran’s midsection. The leather of his armour deflected the blow, but it left him off balance. A second dagger came in a wide sweep toward his neck and Zevran put up an arm to block, wincing as the hilt met his wrist with a crack. He stabbed with his sword, a deep forward thrust that he leaned into, intending the freshly honed point to drive through leather and flesh beneath. He jerked his sword back in time to deflect another sweep of the rogue’s first dagger, but only just. The man in front him went mad with pain and threw himself at Zevran in fury. Zevran chose to simply dodge and parry rather than press and waited for his opponent to bleed out. After the man slumped to the cobblestones, Zevran massaged his sore wrist and turned to Juilden. His brother bled from a several wounds, but his opponent had also been put down.
“The more skilled Brethren guard the gates it seems,” Zevran commented.
Juilden nodded and flicked blood from his hands. “Let us go before we are noticed.”
Producing the tools one more time, Juilden unlocked the gate and they slipped into the alleyway. The night was no longer dark and the light had turned grey about them, shadows lifting and lengthening in turns as dawn crept over the city. As Zevran contemplated the rising sun, the first pink fingers of light stretching across the eastern sky he felt a deep weariness settle into his bones. “I need somewhere to rest, something to eat,” he glanced down at his scuffed and filthy leathers, “and a bath. We will return to the docks, Cristina has some very private accommodations.”
They ran lightly through the streets, hugging the shadows, avoiding all people. Now and again they would cross a grate or gutter and the faint sounds of the battle that continued to rage beneath the city would filter toward them. Zevran shook his head; it would be a wonder if any assassins were left in Antiva by the time the sun rose fully in the sky. As they duck and wove through the shadows Zevran mused on what Juilden had told him. A war between two guilds was no light matter, but these things did happen, and regularly. Some men relished such battles as they presented many opportunities for advancement within the guild and a reshuffling of loyalties and priorities. Some Crows would be Brethren by the end of this day and perhaps a few would take advantage of the situation just as he and Juilden did, and drift away from the shadows entirely.
They reached Cristina’s without incident and scaled the outer wall at the back of the building. They slipped back through that same open window, across the balcony and down the stairs. Cristina herself sat on the bottom step and she turned as they descended, her face showing no surprise whatsoever. Zevran stopped short. He studied her features, trying to read her expression. Was she a friend, or foe?
She tilted her head lightly to one side and said, “You took a little longer than I expected, Zevran, but I did not worry for you. Come, your room is ready.”
Cristina led them to her private apartments. Juilden raised a brow as they entered the room and Zevran gave him a light shrug. Food had been laid out and water for washing, cool now, but clean, stood in a basin. Zevran washed first. Juilden ate. They swapped positions. After cleaning up, Juilden nodded his head toward the bedroom. “I slept in the cell, you rest first, I’ll watch.”
Zevran nodded in agreement. He did not know whether to trust Juilden entirely, but could not conceive of any other motives his brother might hide at this point. He stepped into the bedroom and Cristina followed. Zevran threw himself on the bed with a gusty sigh of relief. To be lying flat, off his feet, his sore wrist no longer hanging, but supported, was bliss. He felt the bed shift and turned his head to see Cristina sitting beside him. “Thank you, Cristina. What do you know?”
“Enough to know you would be back and probably with that ‘friend’ of yours. Who is he?”
“A friend, let us leave it at that, hm?”
Cristina nodded thoughtfully. “Of course. Why did you come back to Antiva, Zevran? Do not mistake me, I am happy to see you, but not like this. You seemed a different man last night, and now you look like a Crow again.”
Zevran raised a brow. “Oh, and what does a Crow look like?”
“He has death in his eyes, and it follows him, a scent he cannot shake.”
“That is just the dried blood, my dear, it washes away.”
Cristina chuckled and patted his hand. “I can see you are tired, Zevran, I will bother you no further,” she paused before adding, “Unless you would like to be bothered?”
Zevran smiled warmly at her. “Ah, Cristina, much as I have missed your… bothering… you are right, I am tired. Perhaps another time.”
She nodded and pecked his cheek. “Sleep well.”
Zevran closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift. They settled on Kayley, the elven Grey Warden he had been involved with, on and off, for the past year and a half. Normally he would smile to himself as he pictured her face and her other charms, but now he frowned. Now she represented a weakness, softness, and Zevran was forced to acknowledge that perhaps he cared for her more than he’d thought. He tried to tuck thoughts of her away, but she persisted in being there and he fell asleep with a smile on his face.
When Juilden woke him, the sun had reached its zenith. They exchanged no words, none really being necessary at this changing of the guard. Juilden flopped down and Zevran left the bedroom and took the chair by the door. He could feel the heat of Juilden’s body still on it and he leaned back, relaxing his posture and rested further as he kept watch.
Juilden emerged from the bedroom about three hours later and Cristina appeared shortly after that with more food.
She set down her tray and looked from one to the other. “Well boys, what are your plans? No one came calling for you, but that will not last. The battle in the aqueducts is over, both sides have sustained heavy losses.” She glanced at Zevran. “Remehe is dead.”
The ranks of the Crows would shuffle once more. Zevran felt a twinge at this. Three years ago the news would have excited him. He may have been in Sebastian’s boots, ready to step into the coveted role as second to the guild master. Now he found himself more impassive. But that did not stop his mind from recognizing the opportunities.
He turned to Juilden. “Do you know where Anora Mac Tir is?”
Juilden nodded.
“I think it is time to pay her a visit.”
Juilden had no problem with the lock. He looked at Zevran, an appraising glance, and then pocketed the tools. Zevran shrugged lightly and nodded. Both rogues came to stillness, sitting near to door and used their senses to detect what might be going on in the dungeon. Zevran had noted no guards within the area that housed the cells, but they would hardly be necessary inside a hole which had only one exit. The guards would be outside the door.
Zevran began removing more items from his armour and Juilden looked on with an amused expression. “Obviously, the only way to capture you properly is to strip you naked.”
Zevran chuckled. “I am not entirely defenseless without my clothes, Juilden. Some have been known to find me more devastating when naked.” He picked at the wire secured beneath his belt. He handed the belt itself to Juilden. “If my pants fall down, take advantage of the distraction.” He winked and Juilden smiled.
Zevran considered his brother a moment longer. “We will no doubt leave a trail of bodies on our way out. There will be no turning back – for you, or for me.”
Juilden nodded softly. “As we have both reminded each other more than once, we are both dead men anyway. Tell me Zevran, what cause drove you here? Are you really so loyal to this king?”
Zevran let out an impatient sigh. He did not really want to discuss his loyalties at this point, but considering what Juilden had divulged, the question was fair. “I am, yes.” He raised a hand to forestall Juilden’s next question. “I am not in service to Alistair. I am merely doing a favour, for a friend.”
Juilden raised his brows, but did not question further or jest. The matter closed.
So armed with nothing but a string of wire, a belt and their wits the two rogues slipped from their cell and melted into the shadows. They zigzagged down the narrow hallway, avoiding the spill of light from each torch, until they reached the door. Zevran placed his ear to the wood and listened. Silence, but not an empty silence, he could hear breathing. He counted. After a minute or two he held up two fingers and Juilden nodded. The door opened inward, which suited Zevran just fine. He pressed himself against one wall and Juilden slipped out the tools and set to work on the lock. He took his time, working deftly and silently and several minutes passed before he pocketed the tools once more. Juilden took a deep breath, pulled on the door and the stepped back into shadow.
The door creaked open slowly, not more than three inches, and nothing happened. Zevran waited silently and Juilden did the same. It became a game, four rogues waiting in the shadows to see who would move first. Half an hour crept past and Zevran had to shift slightly to ease cramping muscles. Finally he heard a scuff from outside the door. A voice sounded through the dimness. “Why is the door open?”
They had to move now! That a third person had arrived outside the door presented a problem, but if the door closed again, their chance was gone. Zevran leapt through the doorway, and kicked at the first man he saw. His booted foot landed right where he aimed it, below the belt, and the elf he’d struck collapsed to the floor with a soft ‘Oof’. Zevran did not wait to see this, he whirled, an elbow aimed at about the level of his own solar plexus, and prayed his next target was another elf of similar statue. It was. He drove the point of his elbow just below the man’s chest, driving air from his lungs and as he doubled over, Zevran looped the wire about his throat, crossed his hands and pulled, hard. The gagging noises from behind him indicated Juilden had done much the same. He could hear the third elf scuffling about on the floor, attempting to regain his feet and he pulled tighter against his makeshift garrote, sealing the airway and mortally bruising the throat.
The third elf made it to his feet and swung his head between Zevran and Juilden, picking his target. Zevran invited him with a quick lift of his chin and the elf drew his blades and charged. Leaning on his current victim, whose struggles were weakening, Zevran shot his leg out in a side kick, his heel catching the rushing elf in the gut. Not a debilitating blow, but enough to distract. The elf beneath him finally sank to the ground, taking Zevran with him. Zevran pulled the daggers from the dead elf’s back and whirled to meet the next charge, the resulting clash of steel echoing of the low ceiling. Not good. A sound such as that would bring more guards. This fight needed to be done with quickly. Juilden had similarly relieved his victim of weapons and with a turn and thrust, lodged both of them hilt deep into that third elf’s back. The elf dropped to his knees, blood spilling from his lips and died.
Clutching their new weapons, Zevran and Juilden stepped over the three bodies. Zevran took a moment to retrieve his belt and they paused at the heavy wooden door that led to the house. Zevran looked at Juilden and his brother shook his head once and then jerked it to the left, indicating they continue down into the aqueducts. Zevran moved close to Juilden and whispered against his ear, “My weapons, I am quite fond of my dagger.”
Juilden looked at him a moment, his expression grim, and then nodded once, a short jerk. Sheathing his daggers, he took out the thieves’ tools and worked the lock. This door opened outward and so they rushed it, pushing through with draggers pointed forward. The hallway was empty. Juilden looked at Zevran and his expression clearly indicated that this did not sit well with the brethren. He looked meaningfully down the hallway and the pair of them slipped into shadow and made their way toward the armory.
They passed no guards, no brethren, nobody at all, and slipped unnoticed inside the room.
“Brother, something is going on, it should not be so deserted here. It is this war I started, I am sure of it. That battle we left in the aqueducts must have continued, or spilled into another venue.”
Zevran nodded. “It is to our advantage then.” He pulled out his borrowed daggers and tossed them aside as he searched the room for his own weapons. He found both of his blades laid out on a table at the back of the room. They had been cleaned and oiled. Smiling at them, feeling as though he greeted old friends, Zevran picked them up and hefted them in his hands. Juilden popped his head over his shoulder and whistled softly.
“That is indeed a fine dagger, Zevran, and worth the detour. Such a weapon came from this Ferelden?”
“Not originally, no. I am not entirely sure of the origin. The dagger was a gift, its former owner a rogue of much repute.”
“Gifted from his dead body, no doubt.” Juilden’s eyes sparkled with humour.
Zevran scowled. “Not a spoil of victory, not this time. A true gift.”
Juilden looked at him oddly before nodding and moving away to select some better weapons for himself.
Zevran admired Duncan’s dagger once more and slipped it into the sheath at his back. He then perused the armory for other items of interest. The pair of them pocketed some potions, a couple flasks of poison and a pair of fiery bombs. Zevran grinned at the last. Things might get chaotic, and that would be good, he had moped around enough these past few hours.
They poisoned their weapons before they left the armory and had a chance to use them just outside the door. Two brethren about to enter the armory were met with pointed steel, their throats cut, their voices silenced.
“If this battle is in the aqueducts, let us take our chances on the streets.”
Juilden nodded briefly and indicated the deeper recesses of the house. “We will try the back entrance.”
They met no one on the way to the rear of the building and slipped unnoticed into the cobblestoned courtyard beyond. Two brethren stood guard at the rear gate and Zevran and Juilden approached one each, silently. Zevran’s target whirled just before he struck, a blade whispering across Zevran’s midsection. The leather of his armour deflected the blow, but it left him off balance. A second dagger came in a wide sweep toward his neck and Zevran put up an arm to block, wincing as the hilt met his wrist with a crack. He stabbed with his sword, a deep forward thrust that he leaned into, intending the freshly honed point to drive through leather and flesh beneath. He jerked his sword back in time to deflect another sweep of the rogue’s first dagger, but only just. The man in front him went mad with pain and threw himself at Zevran in fury. Zevran chose to simply dodge and parry rather than press and waited for his opponent to bleed out. After the man slumped to the cobblestones, Zevran massaged his sore wrist and turned to Juilden. His brother bled from a several wounds, but his opponent had also been put down.
“The more skilled Brethren guard the gates it seems,” Zevran commented.
Juilden nodded and flicked blood from his hands. “Let us go before we are noticed.”
Producing the tools one more time, Juilden unlocked the gate and they slipped into the alleyway. The night was no longer dark and the light had turned grey about them, shadows lifting and lengthening in turns as dawn crept over the city. As Zevran contemplated the rising sun, the first pink fingers of light stretching across the eastern sky he felt a deep weariness settle into his bones. “I need somewhere to rest, something to eat,” he glanced down at his scuffed and filthy leathers, “and a bath. We will return to the docks, Cristina has some very private accommodations.”
They ran lightly through the streets, hugging the shadows, avoiding all people. Now and again they would cross a grate or gutter and the faint sounds of the battle that continued to rage beneath the city would filter toward them. Zevran shook his head; it would be a wonder if any assassins were left in Antiva by the time the sun rose fully in the sky. As they duck and wove through the shadows Zevran mused on what Juilden had told him. A war between two guilds was no light matter, but these things did happen, and regularly. Some men relished such battles as they presented many opportunities for advancement within the guild and a reshuffling of loyalties and priorities. Some Crows would be Brethren by the end of this day and perhaps a few would take advantage of the situation just as he and Juilden did, and drift away from the shadows entirely.
They reached Cristina’s without incident and scaled the outer wall at the back of the building. They slipped back through that same open window, across the balcony and down the stairs. Cristina herself sat on the bottom step and she turned as they descended, her face showing no surprise whatsoever. Zevran stopped short. He studied her features, trying to read her expression. Was she a friend, or foe?
She tilted her head lightly to one side and said, “You took a little longer than I expected, Zevran, but I did not worry for you. Come, your room is ready.”
Cristina led them to her private apartments. Juilden raised a brow as they entered the room and Zevran gave him a light shrug. Food had been laid out and water for washing, cool now, but clean, stood in a basin. Zevran washed first. Juilden ate. They swapped positions. After cleaning up, Juilden nodded his head toward the bedroom. “I slept in the cell, you rest first, I’ll watch.”
Zevran nodded in agreement. He did not know whether to trust Juilden entirely, but could not conceive of any other motives his brother might hide at this point. He stepped into the bedroom and Cristina followed. Zevran threw himself on the bed with a gusty sigh of relief. To be lying flat, off his feet, his sore wrist no longer hanging, but supported, was bliss. He felt the bed shift and turned his head to see Cristina sitting beside him. “Thank you, Cristina. What do you know?”
“Enough to know you would be back and probably with that ‘friend’ of yours. Who is he?”
“A friend, let us leave it at that, hm?”
Cristina nodded thoughtfully. “Of course. Why did you come back to Antiva, Zevran? Do not mistake me, I am happy to see you, but not like this. You seemed a different man last night, and now you look like a Crow again.”
Zevran raised a brow. “Oh, and what does a Crow look like?”
“He has death in his eyes, and it follows him, a scent he cannot shake.”
“That is just the dried blood, my dear, it washes away.”
Cristina chuckled and patted his hand. “I can see you are tired, Zevran, I will bother you no further,” she paused before adding, “Unless you would like to be bothered?”
Zevran smiled warmly at her. “Ah, Cristina, much as I have missed your… bothering… you are right, I am tired. Perhaps another time.”
She nodded and pecked his cheek. “Sleep well.”
Zevran closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift. They settled on Kayley, the elven Grey Warden he had been involved with, on and off, for the past year and a half. Normally he would smile to himself as he pictured her face and her other charms, but now he frowned. Now she represented a weakness, softness, and Zevran was forced to acknowledge that perhaps he cared for her more than he’d thought. He tried to tuck thoughts of her away, but she persisted in being there and he fell asleep with a smile on his face.
When Juilden woke him, the sun had reached its zenith. They exchanged no words, none really being necessary at this changing of the guard. Juilden flopped down and Zevran left the bedroom and took the chair by the door. He could feel the heat of Juilden’s body still on it and he leaned back, relaxing his posture and rested further as he kept watch.
Juilden emerged from the bedroom about three hours later and Cristina appeared shortly after that with more food.
She set down her tray and looked from one to the other. “Well boys, what are your plans? No one came calling for you, but that will not last. The battle in the aqueducts is over, both sides have sustained heavy losses.” She glanced at Zevran. “Remehe is dead.”
The ranks of the Crows would shuffle once more. Zevran felt a twinge at this. Three years ago the news would have excited him. He may have been in Sebastian’s boots, ready to step into the coveted role as second to the guild master. Now he found himself more impassive. But that did not stop his mind from recognizing the opportunities.
He turned to Juilden. “Do you know where Anora Mac Tir is?”
Juilden nodded.
“I think it is time to pay her a visit.”
#694
Posté 11 avril 2010 - 05:53
bob-san
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A Realms and Drizzt fan?
Bob-san Approval +35!
My previous campaign was a 5 year running Realms game before it went on a year and a half hiatus. Seems we'll be picking it back up once more in a few weeks (Much to my player's delight). I rarely get to play though, which is disappointing at times (Once a GM...)
And another excellent chapter. The way you write combat is amazing. Very vivid and detailed. Nicely done.
And now it seems we're heading to the heart of the issue. Time for Zev to "get some head" as it were.
Bob-san Approval +35!
My previous campaign was a 5 year running Realms game before it went on a year and a half hiatus. Seems we'll be picking it back up once more in a few weeks (Much to my player's delight). I rarely get to play though, which is disappointing at times (Once a GM...)
And another excellent chapter. The way you write combat is amazing. Very vivid and detailed. Nicely done.
And now it seems we're heading to the heart of the issue. Time for Zev to "get some head" as it were.
#695
Posté 11 avril 2010 - 06:26
Sandtigress
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Woo, finally finished. Firefly is distracting when you're trying to read....yes, let's go find Anora!! I loved the beginning of this chapter...Zevran naked would indeed be a devastating weapon!
#696
Posté 11 avril 2010 - 08:51
Kallian13
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Sandtigress wrote...
Zevran naked would indeed be a devastating weapon!
Umm...I'm just going to leave that one right where it is....
<3Great chapters Sisi!<3
#697
Posté 11 avril 2010 - 08:59
MireliA
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Kallian13 wrote...
Sandtigress wrote...
Zevran naked would indeed be a devastating weapon!
Umm...I'm just going to leave that one right where it is....
Thats probably safer
And yet again a great chapter
. Though he's losing his Zev-ness if he's turning the women down. 
This Kayley best be worth it.
#698
Posté 11 avril 2010 - 09:10
Sisimka
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I know, Zev naked, right? 
*clears throat* He turned her down because he was tired, even the great Zevran gets tired. I don't know if it was so much that Kayley is worth the wait (she is adorable though) I think it's more he wants to avoid further complications at the moment. He's on a MISSION!
*clears throat* He turned her down because he was tired, even the great Zevran gets tired. I don't know if it was so much that Kayley is worth the wait (she is adorable though) I think it's more he wants to avoid further complications at the moment. He's on a MISSION!
#699
Posté 11 avril 2010 - 09:14
Kallian13
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Sisimka wrote...
I know, Zev naked, right?
*clears throat* He turned her down because he was tired, even the great Zevran gets tired. I don't know if it was so much that Kayley is worth the wait (she is adorable though) I think it's more he wants to avoid further complications at the moment. He's on a MISSION!
Zev naked on the beach
Yep that makes me smile:wub:
#700
Posté 11 avril 2010 - 11:34
Olwaye
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Loved it Sisi, it's late night/early morning in France, just finished a 14 hours shift at work and finding a new chapter makes a great relaxing moment.
I must also agree that a naked Zevran on the loose might do some damage, there is probably something against it in the Geneva convention
I must also agree that a naked Zevran on the loose might do some damage, there is probably something against it in the Geneva convention
