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Post by Catilina on Mar 1, 2017 22:27:48 GMT
Because it is very easy to understand Anders, and almost equally easy to understand Anders with Justice. His/their motivations are simple. I'm just simple, and I don't have enough writing talent. Have you tried comic strip/graphic novel style? Your drawings are lovely. Not yet, thank you. I never wrote fanfic, and never tried, and I admit, until now, I did not really read it.
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Post by Verfallen on Mar 2, 2017 8:03:18 GMT
All my fics are a bit long to post here, but if anyone's interested I've got some on AO3, from a 2,200-word one-shot to a full novel. All are DAI, and all feature Dorian/Kai Trevelyan (mage Inquisitor). They're available here. All feedback is appreciated.
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adrianbc
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Games: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
Posts: 330 Likes: 582
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Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 2, 2017 8:23:52 GMT
All my fics are a bit long to post here, but if anyone's interested I've got some on AO3, from a 2,200-word one-shot to a full novel. All are DAI, and all feature Dorian/Kai Trevelyan (mage Inquisitor). They're available here. All feedback is appreciated. I was similarly concerned that any longer story won`t fit here. But I was able to post "Rite of Passage" which was over 4600 words long in its original form and will end well over 5000. I think you`ll be able to post here all your short stories if you wish it. I started to read "Scenes from an Inquisition". It starts well. I like the idea of writing about events not presented in the game. I will give more feedback a bit later ...
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Post by Verfallen on Mar 2, 2017 8:49:08 GMT
All my fics are a bit long to post here, but if anyone's interested I've got some on AO3, from a 2,200-word one-shot to a full novel. All are DAI, and all feature Dorian/Kai Trevelyan (mage Inquisitor). They're available here. All feedback is appreciated. I was similarly concerned that any longer story won`t fit here. But I was able to post "Rite of Passage" which was over 4600 words long in its original form and will end well over 5000. I think you`ll be able to post here all your short stories if you wish it. I started to read "Scenes from an Inquisition". It starts well. I like the idea of writing about events not presented in the game. I will give more feedback a bit later ... Ha! Well, some of the shorter ones, perhaps, but Departures is over 40K, The Wrong Sort of Whatever is nearly 83K, and TRAITOR clocks in at 177K. All in all, I think linking them is the best way to go. Thank you! Looking forward to hearing what you think. Save
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adrianbc
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Games: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
Posts: 330 Likes: 582
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Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 2, 2017 10:33:17 GMT
I have finished reading all three parts of "Scenes from an Inquisition". Your writing is good and I like the style. What I would have done differently is about the length of the stories. Some details feel redundant, especially in Part 1, which would have been more effective as a journal Kai kept with him and had a chance to re-read while locked up. Part 2 and 3 are love stories, with well fleshed out characters, especially Kai and Dorian (obviously). I usually try to write by using as few sentences as possible. It`s not easy because one has to choose which scenes to describe, the starting points for each scene and the level of details for both the environment and characters. Your style is more classical and it works well. PS I`ve started reading "Departures". The style fits very well a longer story. And it also starts much better - exactly because it`s your own setup, not a "borrowed" one from Bioware. I also try to stay away from DA game scenes. More comments after I`ll finish it.
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Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, KOTOR, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights, Jade Empire
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Post by Obsidian Gryphon on Mar 2, 2017 12:17:19 GMT
This is a DAI fic on the background of the human female Inquisitor (Alaryn) written in 2015 that I didn't finish.
*
Chapter 1 9.30 Dragon, Late Spring, Barviel Reach
It was hot in the barracks. In spite of the opened windows, the occasional woody tinged breeze that wafted by hardly cool the hall. Sweat rolled down Ryn's forehead, dripping into her eyes as she bent to dip the large coarse bush into the bucket of vinegar at her feet and fling the liquid at the grey greenish coated wooden wall before her. Back and forth went the brush as rivulets of dirty grey ran down, leaving behind dark soaked wood.
Along the hall, several soldiers were similarly engaged in scouring the barracks clean. The monotony of the chore was relieved by a baritone voice rendering song after song from Rhius cleaning the floor near the stairs. Calls and whistles rang out when he started on another.
.. my lady stands o'wer it to it and to it up and down, up and down nary a cry to fill ...
The song and noise stopped abruptly with several muffled thuds. She paid no heed to the silence as she shoved the bucket with her foot over to a new section of wall waiting to be scrubbed. "By the Maker, Alaryn!" The familiar outraged feminine voice hardly gave her pause as she bent to dip her brush in the bucket.
"It's wet and dirty here, mother." She wiped at her sweaty forehead with the rolled up left sleeve of her tunic as she scrubbed.
"I can see that," Lady Moira Trevelyan said icily. "I can also see that you have not done what I have asked of you."
"Mother, I distinctly remember saying I'm not attending..."
"Friesa has already packed all the things you need and if you do not, in this instant, return to your room and change, you will regret it."
Ryn finally turned to look at Lady Trevelyan. "I will not." She resisted the temptation of raising her voice. Her blue eyes sparkling with anger, held steady under Moira's equally furious green orbs.
"Your father will see to ..," began Lady Trevelyan.
"Don't make it difficult for me to call myself a Trevelyan, mother."
Moira turned red, then white. "How dare you..," her voice trembled in disbelief. "How dare you make such threats in the face of deep affections I hold for my flesh and blood. Such willful and disloyal conduct only goes to prove that you cannot..."
Biting back an angry sigh as Lady Trevelyan launched into a litany oft repeated in the last several weeks, Ryn turned back to her scrubbing, knowing how Moira would look; the white turning into the crimson flush of deep fury. If she could, her mother would have grabbed her and turned her around to face her but for the sweat and dirt streaming off her that would besmirch the fine clothing she had put on. Silently, she counted. It would not take long for Moira to brandish the old club.
"Your father will hear of this," snapped Moira when she realised her youngest was not listening to her.
"Should have run at first light," Ryn muttered under her breath as Lady Trevelyan walked gingerly away, fingers holding the hem of her dress just so from the dirty waters swirling underfoot. The soldiers who had stood steadfast when Lady Trevelyan appeared, remained as still as statues until the sound of hoofs could be heard clopping away. None of them so much as turned an eye on Ryn as they returned to their chores. Rhius hummed softly before launching into a well favoured song, The Deeds of Calenhad and was soon joined by the rest. It was their way of showing sympathy for they could not publicly acknowledge they had been privy to a scene not meant to be shared. They meant well but she wished it didn't have to happen. It would not if she had taken herself off to the farthest freeholder tract.
That thought of running off had lasted all of the last dark and a candle mark that morning before she had decided to carry on with her plans of the day. Or at least the schedule she had always held to. The brush went up and down several arm span before it dropped to her side as she regarded the half washed wall blankly. There was no point in continuing. With a sigh, she dropped the brush back into the bucket, turned and headed for the stairs. The song did not cease as she went downstairs.
There were more soldiers cleaning the ground floor. They murmured greetings as she passed by. Out in the training ground, white, grey and brown sheets pegged to long lines stretched across the wide space fluttered in the cool breeze. Clumps of soldiers bent to and fro over large tubs of clear water, wringing out more washed sheets and putting them up.
In between the bellowing and flapping sheets, she spied a familiar tall figure in the distance, coming from the Keep. With that head of silvery white hair, it could only be Krizo. Dipping her arms deep into the nearest tub, she washed off her vinegar smelling hands as best she could before heading towards the Keep, flicking off water as she went.
"My Lady." Krizo bowed when she reached him.
"Let's not keep him waiting." She swept past him without waiting to hear his message.
Biting back a sigh as he regarded the stiffly held back, Krizo followed. "He is really not at his best," he warned. "My Lady...Ryn," he added when she marched on. "Go easy on him," he said when she turned to face him. "He's got a lot of things on his mind."
"Bickering with old Justard over freeholders again?" she rolled her eyes. Her father's feud with Bann Justard Kordin had been as flighty as the seasonal winds, blowing this way and that as they compete to hold on to the loyalty of freeholder. It had been that way as long as she could remember, the constant tug of war among the bannorns stretching back centuries and no end in sight. There never would be and she was fortunate it would never be handed down to her. She only had to deal with the usual expectations of being the last in the pecking order.
"It's not just Justard, Ryn. Something else is brewing," Krizo said grimly.
Ryn waited. "What?" she demanded when Krizo did not elaborate. "Does it have anything to do with aunt Lucile's seasonal cattle auction?"
"You should have followed your mother."
She stared at him in amazement. Krizo had been her father's weapons master long before her oldest brother was born. He had trained every single one of her siblings, including herself when she was old enough to hold something properly in her fist. He knew each and every one of them and he knew very well her aversion to the matchmaking game her mother indulged in. That he would think she'd be better off tied down in a nauseating soiree was jarring. Why did he think it so?
"What is it, Krizo. Just throw it out," she said, using her hand to circle the air impatiently. "Stop wavering around." A thought struck her. "Wait, has my mother gone on to Markham?"
At his nod, she felt even more baffled. "Lady Verene and young Dern have followed your lady mother," he added. She had thought the trip had been organised for the sole purpose of finding her a suitable husband. But if her mother had continued on to Markham without her, along with her brother's wife and son, then it must have been at her father's insistence. Why? Krizo didn't look like he was going to tell her exactly what was going on so she resumed her march back to the Keep. As she crossed the drawbridge, her nose wrinkled from the pungent sting of astringent powders the servants were carrying from the outer courtyard in large baskets to sprinkle and stir into the moat. The smell that always marked the beginning of spring.
The gatehouse guards must have read Krizo's dour mood for they saluted stiffly instead of throwing out greetings as they usually would. Horses neighed and stamped on the dusty ground of the outer courtyard, tails flicking away tiny insects as stablehands cleaned out their stalls thoroughly, rakes and brooms busily removing sodden hay and dung. Under the watchful eye of the stablemaster, none looked up as she crossed the yard. The swishing of brooms was drowned out by the clash of steel from the nearby practice ground. At any other time, she would have joined the soldiers at the practice rings and watch them go through their paces. The veterans often had interesting counsel and tales to offer but not today.
The portcullis of the inner wall was drawn up. The inner bailey was much more quiet, with less chaff and dust in the air. Patches of bright colour here and there beckoned from the surrounding gardens, a stark contrast to the grey walls of the Keep. Dust tickled her nose as she passed through the opened main door. She sneezed as a cloud of dust rose into the air as servants on ladders took down the banners from the walls of the main hall. The sight only increased the roiling confusion within. For as long as she could remember, the banners had never been removed. Why was her father having them taken down?
Down a smaller adjacent hallway she went until she came to the door of her father's study. Glancing briefly at Krizo over her shoulder, she took a deep breath and knocked. Opening the door to her father's command to enter, her eyes darted swiftly around the room. Nothing looked out of place. Her father was seated as usual at his desk, the top almost overflowing with parchments and scrolls. Specks of silver in his hair glinted in the glow of the candle stands in spite of the light streaming from the windows. Krizo closed the door behind him and stood by it.
"Ryn." Bann Varal Trevelyan frowned at his youngest daughter, not the lest surprised by her dirty and untidy attire.
"I am not going to aunt Lucille's auc...soiree," Ryn said firmly.
Varal only looked down at the papers before him, as if he didn't hear her declaration of rebellion. "You are certain you do not want to do that," he said after a while as she waited.
"Yes."
"A final assertion out of the fog of ado," he shook his head. "As bright as the spark of unforged steel."
"Father?" Ryn said uncertainly. What was he talking about?
"You are sixteen winters but you have yet to declare for a desired role." He frowned at her.
A question she had been dreading to hear from him. "Father," she hesitated before the sudden swelling in her throat could prevent her speaking. "I've not changed my mind. I have no wish to serve the Chantry."
"That wasn't what you said over the last three winters." He leaned back in his chair. "You said you do not know, you needed time to think about it. Krizo suggested joining a noble house in either Orleis or Ferelden since he has determined you have the skills to be a knight and your answer was the same."
"Are you asking me to decide now?"
"For how long can you stay in my house, Ryn?" he said gently. "I will not deny you for you are my daughter but neither is it fitting that a father should remain silent when a pair of hands can be lifted to better purpose. And I do not mean puttering at the barracks or wandering among the freeholders."
Ryn stared down at her boots before meeting Varal's questioning gaze. Was that a glint of disappointment? It hurt her to see that in his eyes than any harsh words her mother had meted out over the years. "Father, I really do not know," she confessed unhappily. "I tried but my heart can find no mark to settle on. I feel as if it is not the time."
"Time for what?"
"I honestly do not know. I read books, I did research, I talked to the soldiers, Mother Harevis, every one," Ryn shook her head helplessly. "I don't know what I want." Not to marry certainly or be a lay sister or a soldier or a Templar in the Chantry but she needn't repeat that; he knew how she felt about them.
Varal sighed softly as he gazed at Ryn. She had inherited his looks; red hair, the lean cast of face and firm chin though softened by her youth. She had her mother's eyes though blue like his and slightly deep set. Unlike her mother however, she preferred to be out practising her swordplay and riding. Lean with wiry strength, she towered over her diminutive mother who had not been pleased that she had not been able to turn her into the soft sweet beauty some houses raised their daughters to be, perpetually concerned with their appearance and fashion. Moira was no true Marcher, after so many years, he did not think she would ever discard the ostentatious Orlesian customs and attitude she had imbibed since birth.
Tradition demanded that he stamped his authority to have the youngest carry out the duty expected of every generation but it was a bitter dose he would far prefer not to force on this daughter of his.
"You'll have the time you need. I'm sending you to your uncle Tarsus. You will sojourn there, learn from your uncle on matters of estate until after Wintersend."
Her brows drew together. "I don't understand."
"A detachment of soldiers will go with you..."
"Are you banishing me?" she said in disbelief. Uncle Tarsus was custodian of ancestral lands bordering the farthest freedolder beholden to Bann Trevelyan. Several days' journey at the most. It was not like her uncle was a harsh man. It was the opposite. He had spoken softly and kindly to her when Moira had brought her to Skanvar, but he seemed distracted. She was eight winters then.
After they left, Moira had told her never to speak of her uncle when she asked about him and she never knew why. He hardly visited the Keep either although despatches and the annual tithe from the freeholders arrived regularly. Once she had asked her father about her uncle's absence, even on important occasions when distant relatives would be invited, but he had declined to explain, she remembered. It was as if her uncle Tarsus was a pariah.
"Banish?" Varal stared at her.
"Uncle Tarsus can find no favour within this Keep, can he?"
"Because he has never shown his face here all these years?" Varal understood her apprehension. "It is not what you think."
"Is it because of mother?"
He shifted the papers before him, as if debating how he should answer her. "It does not concern you," he said finally. "There is a new development in Ferelden."
"Ferelden?" She stared at him in confusion. What did Ferrelden have to do with her being sent to the farthest reach of Trevelyan holdings?
"There have been numerous outbreaks of darkspawn in the Kocari Wilds." Her eyes widened in disbelief. Darkspawn? All at once, the tales and descriptions of those horrifying creatures crowded in on her. Surely her father jest? But it could not be if he sent her mother, her elder brother's wife and son to safety at Markham. It could only be that and no other.
"The numbers have been steadily increasing over the last week and there are fears that it's the prelude to a Blight," he continued. "King Cailan has marched with his army to Ostagar to counter the threat but there are fears that he may fail. If he does fall, the darkspawn will spread. The Grey Wardens in Orleis may prevent it from spreading west but there is nothing to halt it moving north..," he paused when she made an involuntarily gesture to stop him.
"Do...do they swim?" she asked nervously. "Where would darkspawn learn to handle a boat?"
"Swim?" His brows shot up. "Swim when there're roads underground?" She felt foolish at once for forgetting the history of the Blight. "I do know that if King Cailan should fall, his people will flee," her father continued. "Orleis will watch her borders and so must we. Refugees will come north, they will bring chaos and trouble with them."
"Are we to turn them back?" Ryn tried to imagine what it would be like, a war with darkspawn, and could only conjure up the frightening and heroic tales she had read in books.
"Your uncle will assess the situation if they should cross his lands. Give him this letter." He held out a sealed parchment to her which she took. "Pack whatever you need, you leave at dawn the morrow."
"Why are you sending me?"
"Because it is time for the fledgling to try her wings." He did a little flick with his fingers, indicating that she should go out. Recognising that her father would not discuss it further, she left the room silently with Krizo at her heels.
"He's sending me out there," Ryn muttered as she stood outside, her eyes lifting in bewilderment and fear to Krizo. "Alone, out there?"
Taking her by arm, Krizo steered her to the flight of stairs leading to the family's private quarters. "You're not going alone and you won't be alone."
"Who..soldiers, he's sending soldiers." She rubbed her brow and realised she was feeling cold. "I...I supposed he wants to strengthen the garrison at the old Keep."
"And protect the borders. If refugees do come ashore, they're an additional burden."
"Why?" She nearly fell on the stairs and wondered what was wrong with her but his hand at her elbow held her steady.
"They'll run out of food and they'll have no shelter. If they can find none of either, what do you think they'll do?" They came to a halt outside her room. "You've got a shock, why don't you pack what you need and rest? You'll feel better in the evening."
Not having gone away for any length of time by herself, Ryn had no idea what to bring. "What shall I pack?"
"What any soldier would bring," he saw her bemused stare. "Your heard your father, this is not a pleasure trip and you've heard enough from the old grunts to know what to pack. If you have any other questions, I'm always free to answer them."
Opening the door, he waited till she had stepped inside before closing it. She could hear the shuffle of his boots going away and tried to move but couldn't. It was as if she was frozen to the spot. In her mind, she imagined darkspawn rampaging through the land and the Keep. She stared at her room, imagining it cast into ruin and shambles. How long she stood there, staring into the air she had no idea. The unexpected call at the door startled her. She yelped when it opened and slammed into her back, propelling her forward.
"Oh my Lady, I'm sorry. Are you hurt?" asked the maid at the doorway, eyes wide in alarm.
"It's all right, Friesa. You didn't know I was there." Ryn waved away the apology. The knock had shaken her out of her daze and she was feeling somewhat calmer and foolish for her terror. Darkspawn would not know how to sail across the Waking Sea, they always came through the tunnels they dug from underground.
"Krizo said you want to wash up so I brought water," Friesa waved to the servants behind her. They trooped into the room with buckets of warm water and filled the bathtub by the fireplace. They left once it was done. Friesa closed the door behind them and went to the wardrobe. "I heard you're going to Skanvar Keep until the spring break."
"Krizo told you, I supposed." Ryn tested the water in the tub. Not too hot. Pulling at the fastenings of her clothing, she stripped, tossing the dirty clothes near the fireplace. With a large washcloth, she wet it and scrubbed soap all over herself.
"Will there be parties at the Keep?"
Rynn looked over to see Friesa holding out a few dresses and shuddered. "Maker, I've yet to hear a whisper of any brilliant parties at the Keep and I hope there isn't any. Just throw in the tunics, trews and the like." Loosening the braid of her hair, she dipped her head into the water and worked the soap into it. The maid opened her mouth and then closed it. It was too late to object to the soap. Knowing Ryn, she wouldn't bother very much what she was using to wash her hair. "Help me with this," Ryn said as she held her dripping hair over a bucket.
"Close your eyes." Scooping up water from the bathtub, Friesa helped her washed the suds off. "What do you suppose it'll be like?"
"The Keep? Cold," Ryn wiped water from her eyes. "I was there once years ago, in summer. It wasn't so bad during the day but at night," she shivered as she wiped off the soap from her body. "It's a really old Keep, dating back to the age of Divine. There're no fireplaces except the kitchen." She sighed as she settled in the bathtub. "It's also much smaller. The garden is nice though." There were small animals in a fenced off corner, she remembered. Rabbits and fowls. She looked over to see how Friesa was doing with the packing and was astonished to see her putting the clothes into the travelling chest. "No, not the chest. Put them in saddlebags."
"No chest?" Friesa stared at her in confusion.
"It's not a pleasure trip. I don't need more than a few sets of clothing. Oh, and I'm taking that pair of old boots too."
"If you're sure...," Friesa said uncertainly as she moved to the storage chest where the saddlebags were kept.
Ryn nodded, spread her hair over the back of the tub to dry and settled deeper into the water as she mentally ticked off what she would have to put into her kit bag. Would she need money? There wasn't much left from the last trip to aunt Lucille's where she had spent most of it buying a Orlesian glass curio and a new dagger at the market. She'd better bring them, she decided since there might be an occasion where she might need them. Her mind wandered. This journey would be different from the ones she took with her mother. Where would she spend her nights? Would it at a freeholder's home or would she be camped out in the open? A shiver passed through as she recalled some of the tales the guards had told; she did not want insects crawling into every orifice or worst, have spirits come a calling in her sleep. A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped.
"My Lady, the water is cold," Friesa smiled in apology.
Ryn realised she was right. Climbing out of the tub, she dried off and dressed before sitting patiently for Friesa to comb and braid her hair, wishing she could cut it short. That would give her mother another item to grumble over so she had not cut it. If it had been fine and soft, she wouldn't have minded it so much but it was thick and slightly coarse. The braiding done, Friesa gathered up the dirty clothing and left the room to summon the servants to take out the tub. Ryn looked through the saddlebags piled on the clothes chest as the tub was carried away. There was nothing she could think of to add so she lay down on her bed.
This would be the first time she would be on her own. She could do whatever she wanted except that now that the chance had come, she was not certain how she felt about it. It was all very well to dream about the tales she read, quite another to set out to do them. But then, they were just tales. What could possibly happen? The journey would be dry and dull. King Cailan would halt the darkspawn. How could he not? She could look forward to running errands for her uncle, mired in a boring cycle of duty. What a thrill. She snorted. A little worn out by her cleaning efforts at the barracks, her eyes drooped and she fell asleep without realising it.
Darkness. Wetness. A terrible stench that seared the lungs. A screeching sound. Was that a gleam of teeth in the mist? Black pitted armor, a grinning skull. What was that sound? Run, she had to run. Run.
Her eyes snapped open. For a moment, she stared wildly at the ceiling above her before realising she was in her room. She felt breathless as if she was running. Did she fall asleep? She sat up and rubbed her eyes, her fingers coming away wet. Was she sweating? She must have been having a bad dream but she couldn't remember what it was except it was all dark, dank, oddly humid and fetid. Like food gone rotten or something. From the light filtering through the shutters of the windows, it must be near evening. She had slept the afternoon away. Shaking her head to clear it, she pulled on her boots and left the room.
The door of her father's study room was still closed and she could hear voices within. She went to the main hall and saw all the banners had been taken down. Without the colourful banners, the hall looked drab and empty. She shivered and made her way to the library. At this time of the day, master Burek would be resting in his room so she had the place to herself. It took some time to look for the book she wanted, standing in a lonely corner of the farthest shelf. Sitting down at a desk, she blew off the thin layer of dust on the old tome. It had been years since she last touched the book and it seemed no one else had bothered with it. But then why would any one be interested in darkspawn? It had been almost five hundred years since the last Blight.
The few pictures were just as she remembered it. A few bland strokes that formed imagery of ghouls and darkspawn. The tome itself was little more than a dry historical account of the Blights, the battles and the names of those notable warriors who fought to repel the horde. There were other books that celebrated the struggle, the flair of heroes and horrors of the darkspawn with more imaginative paintings and tales. If she were to encounter darkspawn, she would far prefer not to be cut off at the knees by her own fancies.
The Grey Wardens particularly captured her imagination. Flying on gryphons and swooping down on the enemy out of the sky. What was it like? To fly so high in the sky and smite bravely down on the horde? It must have been exciting. She turned the pages, as captivated by the accounts as before when she was much younger that she didn't hear the knock on the door. She jumped with fright when a hand clapped down hard on her shoulder.
"Feric!" She glared at her eldest brother.
"What're you reading that has closed your ears?" Feric Trevelyan grinned at her fright. "Ah," his brows rose when he caught sight of the page she was reading. "Catching up on some dark reading."
"It's not a jesting matter..."
"No, indeed." He sat down across from her.
"Then you think they will invade the Free Marches..."
"If the Ferelden King should fall, they will first spread over Ferelden, then Orleis before heading north. But that is not for certain. They have taken and held the Deep Roads for hundreds of years, it is hard to say with full confidence that that is the order they will infest the land. Whatever it is, do you think the rest of us will stand idly by while this happens?"
It was a relief to hear that. "I was imagining too many things. Father must think poorly of me for my foolish questions," she admitted. "But do you supposed he is taking the far view of the worst that can happen?"
"Why? Did he say something?"
"All the banners have been taken down in the hall, mother headed up to Markham without me and you know she was very insistent that I attend aunt Lucille's party..," she caught the slight grimace around Feric's lips. "Do you know something?"
"The banners have nothing to do with the problems at Ferelden. Mother left instructions that they're to be taken out and aired. Did you forget the incident of the spiders?" he reminded with a grin.
"Oh."
"It's not just the darkspawn horde, Ryn," Feric rubbed his trimmed beard uneasily. "Irregardless of what happens at Ferelden, there will be frightened people eager to get away. Most will head to Denerim but there will be others who will want to fee even further. Likely head to Kirkwall and Ostwick. City authorities will sort them out but there'll be those who will randomly land along the coast and they are the problem if they come in small groups. Unchecked, they will eventually breed into a bigger problem. Chaos and worst of all, if any of them is tainted, it will spread.
The taint. She looked down at the book before her. There in a passage of the opened page, it was written that a tainted person, wounded by the dark weapons and blood of a darkspawn, would eventually turned into a ghoul. "How do you tell if a person is infected?"
"In such times," he shrugged, "you can't. If the person appears sick, then he cannot be allowed to live."
She stared at him in shock. "But if it's only a small cut or a fever or..."
"Ryn." Feric sat forward, looking at her steadily in the eye. "There is no cure for the taint. It's stated right there, in the tome. I read it, you read it. Death is an act of mercy, trust me."
"How can you be so certain?" she demanded.
"Because a Grey Warden told me so."
"A Grey Warden? You met a grey warden?" Her eyes went round. "When? Why didn't you say anything?"
"Let's see." He rubbed his nose, pretending to think. When she pretended to swipe at him, he ducked. "I was squiring with Bann Eremon of Waking Sea when a warden came visiting. His name was Duncan."
"And?" she prodded impatiently when he halted. "Why was he there? Was he recruiting?"
"He wasn't..."
From the regret that flashed across his face, she thought she knew why. "You wanted to be a grey warden, didn't you?"
"So I did and I think you do as well," he laughed when she made a face at being caught out. "Does father know about this inclination? He would not prevent you if you have such desire."
"Because I'm the youngest," she muttered. "You know you can't because you're the oldest."
"I'm not certain about that," he said glumly. "If Duncan had offered, I would take it. Drissen can take over," he sighed. "But Duncan was just making a stop over on his way to Denerim. He told me some tales of his journey into the Deep Roads, how he fought the darkspawn and the dangers they bring with them. He watched his friends and comrades died fighting the darkspawn. He said wardens have the honor and mercy of fighting and dying on their feet before the corruption take them but the others would have to suffer and die in the worst ways possible because they could not face their fears. I saw the truth in his eyes, Ryn. I do not doubt him."
The room seemed to darken. "Why is father sending me to uncle Tarsus if he thinks refugees will arrive from the south?"
"You know why. You did not want to go to Markham with mother," Feric reminded her gently. "You tipped the boat, Ryn. Now you have to see if you can swim."
"What if I fail?"
Feric smiled and reached for her hands resting on the tome. "There is no failure, Ryn. You can't decide where you can ride to because you have not tried riding anywhere. This is the time for you to taste the world out there, by yourself and decide where you truly wish to go. It may take a few falls but believe me, you will know what it is you want." He turned when someone knocked one the door. "Enter."
A servant came in. "Dinner is ready, my lord, my lady. Lord Trevelyan is on his way."
"We'll be right there." The servant bowed and went out. "Come, Ryn. Let's not be tardy." He waited as she returned the tome to its place. "Do you know, you might decide to be a grey warden after all."
"I wouldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because they don't have gryphons any more and please don't tell me you never dreamt about being a hero swooping out of the sky." She tapped his nose playfully as she passed him, hearing his chuckle as he followed her to the main hall.
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 2, 2017 12:41:01 GMT
Rite of Passage - missing part 2
Varric was busy stuffing everything needed in a sturdy bag, crossing his room in precise movements to retrieve vital supplies when Edwina cleared her throat and asked with a whispering voice: “Boss, how did you … ?”
“Your bargaining technique,” Varric interrupted her bluntly. “It`s a standard procedure for Crows. Since you fell for it, it`s obvious that you were a Crow, escaped here for some reason and started this information selling business only recently. My offer is your best chance to survive the thing you are hiding from. Any other details can wait. Catch!” finished he, tossing a supple garment toward her. Edwina caught it using both hands. “Daggers, then,” commented Varric, retrieving two broad, menacing and razor-sharp ones from a hidden wall cache and presenting them to her, hilt first. “Noble hidden cloth body armor and Legionnaire Scout daggers,” came the answer for her raised eyebrows. You`ll need them. You can change in the closet.”
“Leaving the Committee members alone in your House`s mansion seems like a dangerous move to me. They`ll be able to find your secret documents and deals,” whispered Edwina. “It could mean the downfall of your House.”
“Offering the mansion was my only bargaining alternative. Our House`s documents are safe and out of sight. But some very useful and incriminating ones are displayed in my brother`s office. Concerning House Meino`s recent deals, “ said Varric. You were prepared in advance, don`t you brother? All those documents displayed in your office since last week, at hand for me to read them, together with a detailed schedule of Merchant Guild events for the month. Everything displayed nicely for me to peruse. Varric sighed, thinking about his bastard of a brother.
Varric pocketed, at last, the signet ring of House Tethras and turned to leave his room and the mansion. He watched Edwina emerging, with the hilts of the twin daggers just detectable under her servant outfit, and the dwarven body armor barely visible, even with his trained eyes. Edwina looked much more relaxed and confident than all evening. Varric nodded slightly: “Let`s go. We have much work to do. In the next days, you will serve also as a messenger between me and the Committee. I need a good plan for tomorrow.”
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Post by Deleted on Mar 2, 2017 14:02:24 GMT
Verfallen Thank you for dropping by! If we ever get into the weekly shorts for Challenges, would that be something fun for you to try? @"Obsidian Gryphon" so, am I getting it right, this is a background for the DAI character, that is parallel to the Warden in Origins? I am iffy on the dates in the game, sorry! adrianbc heh, sometimes simple schemes work the best... Varrick and his dealings are quite entertaining.
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Post by Verfallen on Mar 2, 2017 14:08:09 GMT
Verfallen Thank you for dropping by! If we ever get into the weekly shorts for Challenges, would that be something fun for you to try? Sure, I'd be into it. I've done a few over on the Reddit DA and they can be fun. Save
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Post by Deleted on Mar 2, 2017 14:09:32 GMT
Well, thanks to Catilina and adrianbc, I could not stop thinking about the topic of Anders' run-aways, and I really love doing the topical shorst for challenges, so I just went ahead and did a kawaii take on Anders' run-aways. Oh, I know, a story with kids is a cheap trick, plus, I only played the game once, missed a few DLCs, so chances are, it is AU, as Anders' might have been actually talking about his past, and I have missed it. Wanderlust. The fence was laughably low. Ah, everything felt easier today. Last night he was spooked by too many sounds in the world. Cloistered in the tower for two years, he’d forgotten. He’d also forgotten how fresh the forest air smelled, and how soft the dirt was underfoot when not beaten to a stone-like hardness by many, many feet. Yesterday, he’d run till he could not run any longer, he’d slept in a pile of leaves, and washed up by the brook. Now he was desperately hungry, despite stuffing himself with every scrap the round-faced cook Rasha saved for him on the grounds that he was too skinny, a growing boy, and most importantly “could move an archedemon to pity with ‘em eyes of his” the day before. Well, he was about to fix that. The fence was too low. His dad would not have…. Enough. The fence was low, so Anders did not have to use a shred of magic to pull himself over it. Equally, simple human wariness took him across the farmyard without being spotted by anything larger than a magnanimous tabby. He’d stolen and drunk a few still-warm eggs from the coup. The tabby possessively pushed its head against his ankles demanding a payment. “There are plenty left, Mistress… erm… Rasha,” he said to the cat conversationally, and petted her, feeling like he was back home, was not stealing at all, and did not have to hurry anywhere. Next, Anders spotted a clothesline, and went to check the garments for size. He sheared off his robes to a knee-length, but it still had a weird cut and the pattern was unmistakable. Distracted by trying a pair of pants against his body for size, he’d missed the appearance of another boy until the kid started running towards him clearly intending to tackle… Anders mumbled the enchantment instinctively, and the attacker got blasted back. He sat up spitting dirt, dazed but not intimidated. “You… you… cheater! I’ll get you for this!” “Please, don’t,” Anders pleaded. “I don’t mean to hurt anyone. I am… I was leaving.” The boy made to get up, but was interrupted by a torrent of footfalls, and the flurry of shouts. “Wait for us, Sean! Waaaait! What are you doing, Sean?!” Two identical curly-headed girls roughly half Anders' size joined Sean. The farmyard became too crowded for the cat, and it glided away past Anders. “That’s a robber?” one of them asked pointing at him. “He beat ye up, Sean?” the other inquired. “No way!” the first argued. “He’s too skinny.” “Then why is Sean on his ass?” the second retorted. “His nose is not bloody…” the first observed leaning over her brother. Anders started giggling, but Sean did not find the chatter endearing. “He’s a mage!” he interrupted the girls. “Let's beat him up!" The girls gasped in unison. They studied Anders with eyes as round as the tabby’s. “A mage, you? “ Anders looked behind his shoulder at the fence. If he bolted for it before Sean shook off the aftershock of the mind blast, he could outrun the girls. But if they gave the chase, called for help, reported him to the Chantry… suddenly nothing was easy. “Well, yes,” he said smiling disarmingly. “I am a mage, but---” “Like a blood mage from the scary stories?” one of the girls wanted to know. The second one extended her hand to touch his sleeve, but jerked it back in alarm. “I don’t fancy being splattered with blood,” she said pouting. “No, not like that,” Anders explained pleadingly. “I am a Circle mage.” “And you are stealing poppa’s underpants?” “Why are you not in the Tower then?” “Because you’re a runaway?” “That’s because they made you summon demons, right?” "Or, worse, eating toads?" “Demons must be scary.” Anders could not tell anymore which girl was the first and which - the second. The questions pelleted him like dry peas spilled on a wooden floor. He did not think it would be appropriate to tell them that the scariest thing about demons was that they never were. “Stop it!” Seann yelled. He got to his feet. And advanced towards Anders, the girls trailing him. “You, Mage. Surrender!” “Can you turn Sean in a toad?” the girls supplied hopefully from behind the boy’s back. Sean’s face fell. “I could…” Anders started menacingly, “but I won’t, I promise!” he added quickly, pressed his hand to his heart and started backpedaling towards the fence. The trio followed him, Sean with the dangerous, cautious grace, the girls - with open fascination. “Just… don’t tell on me… please?” Sean guffawed. “Right, we won’t.” “Oh, Sean!” the girls hang on to their brother’s shirt. “Don’t you dare!” “Look, he’s so… well, so… sad.” “I bet they make him do terrible things…” “ And I will tell Nalia Frehston that you got beat up.” Anders’ back touched the fence. Sean made no move to shake the girls off, instead, he resignedly put his arms around his sisters. Anders turned around and climbed. “Where are you going? Home?” the girls called after him, as he was about to roll over the top. Anders smiled sheepishly from the safety of his high perch: “No… I can’t. I am just going… you know…” he circled half a horizon with his hand. That did not satisfy the children. Even Sean now stared at Anders expectantly and with a sort of a fascination that made Anders feel a strange elation. He was a hero from a story to these farm kids… and he used to be them. Now he was different, and, well, today it did not hurt. A dizzying wave of hope flooded him. Surely, he can make it. There were nice folks in the world after all. And the Templars, well, the Templars, they can barely tell their noses from a kettle’s snout, how they will ever know which phylactery in a thousand is his… “Away,” Anders said firmly. He waved at Sean, trying to win his friendship. “I am going away.”
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Post by Catilina on Mar 2, 2017 14:32:07 GMT
@domi I like.
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 2, 2017 15:01:12 GMT
This is a DAI fic on the background of the human female Inquisitor (Alaryn) written in 2015 that I didn't finish. * A very good background story for your Inquisitor, even if unfinished. The moment for your first chapter was very well chosen - the young daughter at "crossroads". The Blight reference and Duncan seemed good choices for the rest of Alaryn`s story, even untold. I can easily imagine her life until that fateful day at the Temple of the Sacred Ashes. The entire setting (the keep, family) feels real for me - I can walk through the entire story with Alaryn, see what she saw and react with her.
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 2, 2017 15:35:36 GMT
Excellent take on a young Anders! I loved how all the kids reacted. It felt natural. Did you saw the French movie War of the Buttons (La guerre des boutons in French) ? It`s about two gangs of kids from two French villages locked into a permanent "war" for generations. Extremely funny and also realistic. www.imdb.com/title/tt1861375/?ref_=fn_al_tt_3It`s simply great, especially if you have lived through a similar story. I have ...
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Post by Obsidian Gryphon on Mar 3, 2017 4:11:54 GMT
@"Obsidian Gryphon" so, am I getting it right, this is a background for the DAI character, that is parallel to the Warden in Origins? I am iffy on the dates in the game, sorry! Yes, it is running parallel to the DAO Warden. 9.30 Dragon is the year of the Fifth Blight that began in the Kocari Wilds. I find the DAI human noble's lack of knowledge and experience during this period rather peculiar / empty which was why I wanted to flesh out my DAI human female Inq. In hindsight much later, I realised the reason for the oddity. It was because of the need to cater to new DA players. I had intended to write of her maturing in her encounters but didn't get round to it. Your story of Anders is engaging. However, I find the boy's reaction to the attack, Ander being a mage and his sisters' egging a bit low key. adrianbc , love your stories on Varric! Some errors in sentences though.
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 3, 2017 4:43:08 GMT
Well, Bioware used this kind of solution since Baldur`s Gate 2 with the amnesiac behavior of the protagonists. Speaking of amnesia and RPG`s: it was strange that in less than a year two of the most prominent RPG releases - Dragon Age: Inquisition and The Witcher: Wild Hunt - featured protagonists with amnesia. Not to mention Pillars of Eternity with the protagonist having an "awakened soul" and memory flashbacks from a previous life. Too much amnesia for my taste. The boy`s reaction in @domi`s story is more like roleplaying. The boy was playing the role of a knight or a templar. It`s credible if he was reading or heard such stories As I mentioned, English is not my first language. More precisely it`s the fourth. I learned to think in English some time ago while writing, but it`s still not working perfectly. I`m aware that sometimes I still write sentences with a non-English structure. Not to mention grammar errors. I`m not only aware of this, but I am also constantly making corrections on my posted fictions.
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Post by Obsidian Gryphon on Mar 3, 2017 5:29:01 GMT
Well, Bioware used this kind of solution since Baldur`s Gate 2 with the amnesiac behavior of the protagonists. Speaking of amnesia and RPG`s: it was strange that in less than a year two of the most prominent RPG releases - Dragon Age: Inquisition and The Witcher: Wild Hunt - featured protagonists with amnesia. Not to mention Pillars of Eternity with the protagonist having an "awakened soul" and memory flashbacks from a previous life. Too much amnesia for my taste. The boy`s reaction in @domi `s story is more like roleplaying. The boy was playing the role of a knight or a templar. It`s credible if he was reading or heard such stories As I mentioned, English is not my first language. More precisely it`s the fourth. I learned to think in English some time ago while writing, but it`s still not working perfectly. I`m aware that sometimes I still write sentences with a non-English structure. Not to mention grammar errors. I`m not only aware of this, but I am also constantly making corrections on my posted fictions. Can't put it all on Bioware, most companies doing RPGs opt for the amnesia starter gun. HZD protag also has the blank slate but it's not a deliberate wipe; an accident or some power that took it away. * The boy, RP-ing? *scratches head* Since the girls mentioned hearing stories of bloodmages, I'd doubt the stories were sweet honey on the ears, which is why I'm puzzled by the boy's / their reaction. The first thing he did was not to yell "thief!", he attacked. I supposed he thought yelling would frighten off the thief and he wanted to prove that he was strong enough to tackle a man. That's reasonable. The next reaction to being blasted by magic, he said "cheater". I'd put this to youthful temper than good sense and that he was fueled by outrage that someone was stealing his father's clothing. The third was all three kids were not afraid, they did not think of putting further distance between themselves and Anders. The fourth was the boy not thinking of imminent attack on his sisters, the rest of his family, try to defend them / frighten off the mage, but instead thought of capture / gold. Most reactions we heard of in the DA games is fear. The commoners fear mages / apostates. Their treatment on finding one was not kind, it's mostly cruel and if they could / lose their heads, they would kill the apostate quickly. It'd follow that the adults would teach the children to watch out for mages, that they were dangerous and could not be trusted. I don't recall anyone getting paid for capturing one but maybe I miss that detail. * I understand. You're doing great. English is not my natural language but everyone here is taught to read and write it. I prefer English so I'm more comfortable with it. I'll point out the error, it's minor really. [second paragragph] Any other details can wait. Catch!” finished him, tossing a supple garment toward her. The two words in such a sequence indicate a chain of action, not a conversation. It's safer to use "he said", for dialogues.
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 3, 2017 6:14:19 GMT
Thank you for pointing out the error! I did not see it, even after scanning the whole text several times. I often change my mind while writing, in the middle of a sentence. I always try to make the stories as short as possible, which often means deleting non-important elements. I am doing research on Working Memory, and some WM knowledge can be applied to fiction writing. Many thanks again! The kids were reacting like ... well ... any other kids. The fact that none of them (even the boy) showed fear while encountering a mage can be quite normal if they never saw a mage before. Or witnessed a mage being apprehended and fighting back. Fear is a learned reaction. We are constantly learning what or who is dangerous, how to avoid danger. For me, it was obvious that the three kids heard about mages but never encountered one before. They were curious, even the boy. I remember a very old incident which happened in a zoo. I was over a year old (less than two anyway) and was visiting the city`s zoo each day with my grandfather. I liked lions (I carried a picture with a lion with me all the time) so one day I wanted to touch the mane of a big lion who was sleeping right near the bars. The lion attacked instantly (he was probably afraid) and I was lucky to escape with my hand intact. Until that moment I never thought lions to be dangerous. The amnesia solution is not a Bioware exclusive feature, I know. The Whicher series is heavily based on this (Geralt returning somehow from Avalon and with no memories). It`s just ... a bit cheap for me. I understand the idea of using amnesia as a way to make a game playable for newcomers. But the problem is that it affects the longtime fans, those who played every single game from a series, and who are aware of every lore detail. I know that for DA: I there was also a plot reason. But that amnesia was specifically related to the event involving the Divine. Not about the protagonist being oblivious about all the world-shaking events from the last decade. Your first chapter about the Inquisitor`s background was very good. I liked the idea of describing how she learned about Thedas and how she tried to find her place in the world. Is there a chance to finish the story, or to add some more chapters?
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Post by Obsidian Gryphon on Mar 3, 2017 7:45:35 GMT
Thank you for pointing out the error! I did not see it, even after scanning the whole text several times. I often change my mind while writing, in the middle of a sentence. I always try to make the stories as short as possible, which often means deleting non-important elements. I am doing research on Working Memory, and some WM knowledge can be applied to fiction writing. Many thanks again! The kids were reacting like ... well ... any other kids. The fact that none of them (even the boy) showed fear while encountering a mage can be quite normal if they never saw a mage before. Or witnessed a mage being apprehended and fighting back. Fear is a learned reaction. We are constantly learning what or who is dangerous, how to avoid danger. For me, it was obvious that the three kids heard about mages but never encountered one before. They were curious, even the boy. I remember a very old incident which happened in a zoo. I was over a year old (less than two anyway) and was visiting the city`s zoo each day with my grandfather. I liked lions (I carried a picture with a lion with me all the time) so one day I wanted to touch the mane of a big lion who was sleeping right near the bars. The lion attacked instantly (he was probably afraid) and I was lucky to escape with my hand intact. Until that moment I never thought lions to be dangerous. The amnesia solution is not a Bioware exclusive feature, I know. The Whicher series is heavily based on this (Geralt returning somehow from Avalon and with no memories). It`s just ... a bit cheap for me. I understand the idea of using amnesia as a way to make a game playable for newcomers. But the problem is that it affects the longtime fans, those who played every single game from a series, and who are aware of every lore detail. In know that for DA: I there was also a plot reason. But that amnesia was specifically related to the event involving the Divine. Not about the protagonist being oblivious about all the world-shaking events from the last decade. Your first chapter about the Inquisitor`s background was very good. I liked the idea of describing how she learned about Thedas and how she tried to find her place in the world. Is there a chance to finish the story, or to add some more chapters? True but you were only a year old. The kids in the story were older. *shrug* I wrote three chapters for the protag but stopped because I wasn't happy with the second and the third. I was going to rewrite but dropped it due to RL problems then. Additionally I was also writing the ME fic which was running so long I decided I had to stop the DA fic. My first try at fanfic wasn't ME, it was a Korean fanfic based on a historical drama. I wrote all five fics (came up to near a hundred chapters) within two years. I also did a lot of research on the culture of that period. When it came to ME, I was flying by the seat of my pants. Meaning I made no blueprints / plan it out, I just wrote what visuals came into my head. I've no doubt the pacing was choppy, some dialogues and events didn't gel or sound stupid. Even now, after the completion of the first ME fic, I'm not satisfied because I'm convinced it needed a lot of improvements even after a couple of revisions. For the second ME and DAI fic / snippets, it's the same; no planning. However, I did some research into castles, medieval customs, etc, etc, for the background story of the human Inq. I can continue. I just have to pick out the right sequence of images in my mind and put those visuals into words.
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Games: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 3, 2017 8:23:11 GMT
Your style of writing fiction is similar to the one I am using. I start with a general plot idea, then I establish the background: places, events, characters. After that, it`s about visualizing scenes in my mind, selecting the good ones, and describing them. In order to delete the non-relevant parts (dialogues parts, movements, objects) I imagine using a video camera which I can switch off when needed. Or editing the raw video footage. I once worked briefly on some advertising videos as part of a team, and it helps. You can use something like this to "clean up" a bit the raw ME and DA:I stories. Your research paid off and was put to a good use in Chapter 1. I would like to read more chapters, but please don`t do it if you don`t want to. Your Korean fanfic sounds very interesting. I`m also writing some fantasy fictions, based on my own worldbuilding and ideas. Nothing really finished yet (more like some early attempts to try out the background). The kids were older, but still kids. And Anders just 14 years old in the story. So the boy and his sisters encountered just another kid. This is how we perceive unknown people or objects: by familiarity. They saw just a skinny boy, not a mage. And they never saw Uldred, Flemeth or Corypheus in action. Most likely they never saw a mage until encountering Anders. I was 12 or 13 when I first encountered a lone wolf in a forest. I was training (running) alone each day at the outskirts of the city, and just returning (no longer running). And suddenly I faced a wolf. Do you think I recognized it? No, I was convinced it`s just a dog - and I`ve seen wolves since I was a toddler in the zoo. We both stared at each other, and he just turned and sneaked away. Only much later I realized it was a wolf. I kept seeing wolves, foxes and sometimes bears in that forest from time to time in the next years, while training. It`s not about how serious a danger can be. It`s more like what we are perceiving. PS I must admit I`m quite a fan of Korean historical TV shows. I saw a few, and just recently I watched "Hwarang". Sometimes the scenes are silly, and the acting is exaggerated, but they are really improving.
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 3, 2017 9:56:32 GMT
Rite of Passage - missing part 3
At The Hanged Man, Varric was sitting in his new room, near the fire, sipping from a glass of Orzamar ale. And still smirking. The idea was outrageous, even crazy. But it could work. And if they`ll accept it … The door opened almost silently and Edwina entered. She looked quite confused.
“Well?” asked a smiling Varric.
“They said yes. And that it`s a good plan. All this while laughing. I don`t really understand, boss. I know that dwarfs take politics very seriously. Just like Antiva. And it often involves lots of dead bodies. What was so funny in your letter that they couldn`t stop laughing?” Edwina looked at Varric, curious.
“Orzamar politics are dead serious, always. Let`s just say that my proposal was … err … a bit unconventional.”
Edwina nodded still a bit uncertain and turned to leave.
“Did someone followed you?” asked suddenly Varric.
“No, boss. It`s still dark. At least an hour until sunrise,” answered Edwina turning around to face him.
“We still have some time then. Time for me to know some details,” said Varric pointing to an empty chair near the fireplace. Edwina sat down a bit reluctantly, cleared her throat and started: “I was part of a team tasked with a job here in Kirkwall. My part was to scout ahead, survey the target`s house and alert the team about any mischief of countermeasures. I saw nothing suspicious. My team entered the house and was whipped out. I was the only survivor.”
“And you cannot go back to your Guild because they`ll obviously think you sold them out,” completed Varric. “Who was the target?”
“Paolo D`Agostini from Treviso. He is a merchant here.”
“I`ve heard of him. He deals with silk and finery,” said Varric, looking to his new spymaster. “He must have made some connections in Kirkwall, and these alerted him. Kirkwall is not Antiva City but it`s packed full of gangs, including the dwarven Carta. Plenty of muscle here for hire, for any kind of job.” He poured her a large glass of Antivan brandy. “All this is over for you. Since you are now part of House Tethras, no Antivan Guild will be foolish enough to target you. Especially as a spymaster.”
“I know, boss. And thank you. But I want to reach my own closure,” said Edwina with a very determined tone.
“I understand,” said Varric looking at her. If I learn anything about your former target, you`ll be the first to know. Now, I need your spies for a surveillance.”
“My spies?” asked Edwina suddenly alert.
“Your team of spies,” answered Varric with a smile. The ones who alert you about anything interesting or suspicious. I`m sure some of them are right now just downstairs. I need to use them since House Tethras`s own spies won`t be suitable for this job.”
“Right, boss. Who is the target?” said Edwina smiling now.
“Torrold Meino. You know him? asked Varric, then continued after she nodded: “Put your team around his mansion and your best spy to follow Meino and shadow him for the next two days. And I want constant reports about of his movements. This is vital for the whole plan.”
“The whole job will be over in two days?”
“Yes. And if all will end as I expect, House Tethras will be the first merchant House in Kirkwall, and you`ll have a better job than any Antivan Guildmaster. But first, we need to do everything right these two days.”
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 3, 2017 11:28:00 GMT
Completely off topic: I have finally found a short trailer from the 2011 movie "La Guerre Des Boutons" (War of the Buttons): It`s a French movie about a "war" between kids from two French villages. Unfortunately, the trailer has no English subtitles, but it`s easy to understand what is happening. The kids are just great!
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Post by Catilina on Mar 3, 2017 12:22:59 GMT
@domi I like your child depiction, I think this is believable: The kids are even more curious and adventure-seekers, than afraid, and than the adults. The older kids as well. Kids are like cats.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 3, 2017 12:43:57 GMT
(Waves) I was trying to go for Sean as a bigger, burlier boy, Anders is a skinny one, and both are of about the same age, fourteen. So quick to get into the fights, and eager to solve everything by themselves, while the parents are out in the fields. I did not do much chronology/descriptions, save for putting two years tag on Anders' stay in the circle. Girls I pegged at nine or ten, so the trust is still there and the boys are both the loud mess of a menace, but sort of start being fascinating too. I actually wanted to comment that it was not particularly realistic, as I was indulging in kawaii, obviously transferring a big part of my own affection for Anders' character to the farmfolk. I would think that the children do tell on Anders, once the moment wears off, that's how he gets caught and gets craftier and craftier.
The reward was in Kirkwall, not in Ferdelain, right? I will just edit then to Sean saying "let's beat him up" or something to that extent.
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Post by Obsidian Gryphon on Mar 3, 2017 12:47:18 GMT
Your style of writing fiction is similar to the one I am using. I start with a general plot idea, then I establish the background: places, events, characters. After that, it`s about visualizing scenes in my mind, selecting the good ones, and describing them. In order to delete the non-relevant parts (dialogues parts, movements, objects) I imagine using a video camera which I can switch off when needed. Or editing the raw video footage. I once worked briefly on some advertising videos as part of a team, and it helps. You can use something like this to "clean up" a bit the raw ME and DA:I stories. Your research paid off and was put to a good use in Chapter 1. I would like to read more chapters, but please don`t do it if you don`t want to. Your Korean fanfic sounds very interesting. I`m also writing some fantasy fictions, based on my own worldbuilding and ideas. Nothing really finished yet (more like some early attempts to try out the background). The kids were older, but still kids. And Anders just 14 years old in the story. So the boy and his sisters encountered just another kid. This is how we perceive unknown people or objects: by familiarity. They saw just a skinny boy, not a mage. And they never saw Uldred, Flemeth or Corypheus in action. Most likely they never saw a mage until encountering Anders. I was 12 or 13 when I first encountered a lone wolf in a forest. I was training (running) alone each day at the outskirts of the city, and just returning (no longer running). And suddenly I faced a wolf. Do you think I recognized it? No, I was convinced it`s just a dog - and I`ve seen wolves since I was a toddler in the zoo. We both stared at each other, and he just turned and sneaked away. Only much later I realized it was a wolf. I kept seeing wolves, foxes and sometimes bears in that forest from time to time in the next years, while training. It`s not about how serious a danger can be. It`s more like what we are perceiving. PS I must admit I`m quite a fan of Korean historical TV shows. I saw a few, and just recently I watched "Hwarang". Sometimes the scenes are silly, and the acting is exaggerated, but they are really improving. I've forgotten when Anders went into the Circle. If he was 12, then 14 would be it. In those two years, he need not do battle with the daily struggle to live, to put food on the table, to pay due to the lords. He was well fed, sheltered. These kind of conditions allowed better physical growth compared to peasant kids. I've read up some on medieval stuff during the research and I'm still learning. There is a difference between children of today and the children of the past. The children of the past were old long before they even had a chance to be really children. This is especially true for those born to peasants which is why my perception of the children (medieval / DA) is different. They're not really children. They knew the harshness of their circumstance, the world they lived in. They did not live in nice palatial houses, they toiled from sun up to sun down along with their parents. They're familiar with the forests near their homes, they would know the flora and fauna. I've to say I lost touch with Korean historical dramas (I don't bother with their contemporary dramas, I don't like them) for quite some time. The last time I checked, I felt they were getting more and more stupid. What is that term....I forgot. I'd called it modernized historical drama BS because costumes, hairstyles, traditional customs and story became modern punk. I absolutely detest it so I stopped keeping up.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 3, 2017 12:54:10 GMT
Your style of writing fiction is similar to the one I am using. I start with a general plot idea, then I establish the background: places, events, characters. After that, it`s about visualizing scenes in my mind, selecting the good ones, and describing them. In order to delete the non-relevant parts (dialogues parts, movements, objects) I imagine using a video camera which I can switch off when needed. Or editing the raw video footage. I once worked briefly on some advertising videos as part of a team, and it helps. You can use something like this to "clean up" a bit the raw ME and DA:I stories. Your research paid off and was put to a good use in Chapter 1. I would like to read more chapters, but please don`t do it if you don`t want to. :) Your Korean fanfic sounds very interesting. I`m also writing some fantasy fictions, based on my own worldbuilding and ideas. Nothing really finished yet (more like some early attempts to try out the background). The kids were older, but still kids. :) And Anders just 14 years old in the story. So the boy and his sisters encountered just another kid. This is how we perceive unknown people or objects: by familiarity. They saw just a skinny boy, not a mage. And they never saw Uldred, Flemeth or Corypheus in action. Most likely they never saw a mage until encountering Anders. I was 12 or 13 when I first encountered a lone wolf in a forest. I was training (running) alone each day at the outskirts of the city, and just returning (no longer running). And suddenly I faced a wolf. Do you think I recognized it? No, I was convinced it`s just a dog - and I`ve seen wolves since I was a toddler in the zoo. We both stared at each other, and he just turned and sneaked away. Only much later I realized it was a wolf. I kept seeing wolves, foxes and sometimes bears in that forest from time to time in the next years, while training. It`s not about how serious a danger can be. It`s more like what we are perceiving. :) PS I must admit I`m quite a fan of Korean historical TV shows. :) I saw a few, and just recently I watched "Hwarang". Sometimes the scenes are silly, and the acting is exaggerated, but they are really improving. :) I've forgotten when Anders went into the Circle. If he was 12, then 14 would be it. In those two years, he need not do battle with the daily struggle to live, to put food on the table, to pay due to the lords. He was well fed, sheltered. These kind of conditions allowed better physical growth compared to peasant kids. I've read up some on medieval stuff during the research and I'm still learning. There is a difference between children of today and the children of the past. The children of the past were old long before they even had a chance to be really children. This is especially true for those born to peasants which is why my perception of the children (medieval / DA) is different. They're not really children. They knew the harshness of their circumstance, the world they lived in. They did not live in nice palatial houses, they toiled from sun up to sun down along with their parents. They're familiar with the forests near their homes, the creatures that roamed in them. I've to say I lost touch with Korean historical dramas (I don't bother with their contemporary dramas, I don't like them) for quite some time. The last time I checked, I felt they were getting more and more stupid. What is that term....I forgot. I'd called it modernized historical drama BS because costumes, hairstyles, traditional customs and story became modern punk. I absolutely detest it so I stopped keeping up. It is true that in real medieval setting a full monk would be fed far better, but a monastery did not consist of many full brothers/sisters that would be fed to fullness with those better diets, Most people associated with the monastery would not be as well off. Ferelden setting also happens in between the Blights, and after the Black Death we had seen a time of growing prosperity for the commoners, as they could charge high prices for foodstuffs and labor, due to low population. Overall, Ferelden feels far closer to modern mindsets and perceptions than the gritty realism. I am not going for Martin's approach here, I am going for a happy escapism
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