adrianbc
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Games: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
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Post by adrianbc on Feb 26, 2017 10:39:08 GMT
I started this thread for all Dragon Age fans, as a way to fill the hiatus between DA:I and DA4. The Mass Effect fans are lucky: Andromeda is just a corner away. But for many Dragon Age fans there is a long wait in front of us, with no DA4 in sight to discuss or even better to play. So I`m doing my bit and try to offer something new for every loyal DA fan here. Also, I invite anyone to contribute with original stories, comments about posted ones and ideas for brand-new fanfic stories. I hope we`ll have some good fun here.
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adrianbc
N3
Games: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
Posts: 330 Likes: 582
inherit
2913
0
582
adrianbc
330
Jan 20, 2017 10:05:58 GMT
January 2017
adrianbc
Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
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Post by adrianbc on Feb 26, 2017 10:49:36 GMT
The storyteller is rogue Garrett Hawke
Rite of Passage – extended version
Of all my friends in Kirkwall, Varric Tethras is the most visible and the most mysterious. He lives half of his life in everyone`s view at The Hanged Man tavern, and his door is open for all kind of visitors. He is a celebrated author and the heart of every good-natured party in the city`s many taverns. As for the other half of his life…
When I first asked him, Varric said: “I`m not a good hero material, Hawke. I`m beardless and I write tall tales. What else do you want to know?”
When I pointed out: “Well, you can grow a beard for a start”, Varric just cut me off: “That`s not the point. I like it this way.”
I and my friends never guessed who Varric really was all those years until recently, after he was appointed Viscount. Some incredible rumors started to surface about the real extent of his merchant empire. But one thing never changed: Varric still spends a lot of time in his favorite tavern and room. The people of Kirkwall got used to treat him differently, based on location. He`s “Hey, Varric!” at The Hanged Man and “Your Highness!” at the Viscount Palace.
For me, he remains my best friend and constant companion.
The dragon refused to fly, despite Varric`s prolonged conjuring, cursing and even begging. Why is writing ever so painfully difficult? It`s almost easier to be an adventurer. Almost … he mumbled, looking at his last, interrupted sentence: The dragon soared followed by a long list of crossed out words: fast, slowly, happily, stupidly, gracefully, cursing, smiling. How to make a hundred feet monster to fly like, well … , a dragon?
It was at this moment when a surprisingly supple object landed hard on his neck, pressing his face into the large pillow decorated with Paragon Tethras`s symbols. Something carrying a smell suspiciously close to a boot. After a very eloquent “Bmrtlmnd nmt fmnnm!” from Varric, the owner of said boots roared: “Varric, you are the biggest idiot ever born to any merchant family on the surface! It`s hard to believe you`ll reach the age of 20!”.
At last, Varric was able to turn his head enough to free his mouth from the pillow: “I`ve noticed you already, Bartrand. The mirrors in my rooms are not just for appearance. Now be kind and move that stinky boot away from my nose. What do you want from me, anyway ?”
Bartrand removed the offending item from his little brother`s neck, glanced at the sheet of parchment filled with rather crossed out words than finished sentences and growled disapprovingly: “King Terric again, my little brother? How can you spend all your day by writing such nonsense instead of training or helping with the trade is beyond me ... I was younger than you when I took charge of our family`s business. It pains me seeing you so indifferent.”
Varric glanced at his brother`s serious and now expressionless face before answering: “I`m a second son, brother. You know how it is. Or rather you don`t know.”
Bartrand narrowed his eyes, cleared his throat and started making some mocking sense: “I have to leave Kirkwall for an urgent business trip, so I am putting you in charge for a short time, your Majesty. Of course, if you could be bothered with …”
Bartrand never had a chance to finish his sentence. A completely surprised Varric froze for a moment, then jumped up, scribbled frantically something on the last parchment, shouted: “The dragon soared majestically !” , jumped out of his bed and made a mock Orlesian reverence: “Bartrand, you are a rare gift of the Stone, a Paragon among dwarves! Now that I finally made my dragon fly I`m all yours. What kind of trip are you talking about? Is it dangerous? Is it to Orzamar or the Deep Roads? Should I go with you?
The newly named Paragon just stood there silent, with narrowed eyes locked into Varric`s and his right hand slowly moving toward his sword as if having a will of its own. “Are we spying now on our older brother, Varric? Is this what are you doing with all your free time?”.
Having a notoriously bad-tempered brother for all your young life has the useful side effect of knowing how to dispel foul moods. Of course, if you are lucky to survive them long enough to answer: “So it`s about the Deep Roads then? I always wished to see an old Thaig! Maybe some of the old books survived, and …”.
“I should have guessed,” Bartrand said while he searched for an empty chair, found one less clustered with parchment and books, showed them to the floor with a grimace and sat down. “For you, all this world is just a big story subject. It`s not Orzamar or the Deep Roads, but something between. A meeting with some thugs who might have an idea about how to reach an old lyrium mine. Such an opportunity is too good to pass.”
“And just how did you learn about this, brother? Some new confidence men, a Carta member, or a supposed Grey Warden, like the last time?” said Varric while slightly shaking his head. “Everyone learned long ago that you are easy to catch with anything related to Orzamar, Deep Roads, and lyrium. It makes you an easy target for every swindler, even a fresh one. The usual practice is bad for business, Bartrand. You need to learn how to be more unpredictable.”
“Like you, little brother? If anyone would want to end your useless life, one doesn`t even need to spy on you too much. You never leave this room much nowadays. Once an assassin learns where your room is, it`s game over for my dear brother Varric. Anyway, those stupid enough to sell me false info usually end up as fishmeal in the harbor. It`s not that I jump for every tall tale. We need new commercial deals if we want to stay in front. This one comes from Javaris. He got the scent of an old rumor about an abandoned lyrium mine. I need to go with him to meet some Deep Road scouts. If I learn anything useful about the location of such mine, it`s worth the time and effort. To own such a mine means being in the Big League, brother. No longer begging for scraps and second-hand deals.”
“I know, Bartrand, as does every other dwarven merchant in Kirkwall worth its salt. It can be a scam, or worse. Not to mention that Javaris is notorious for broken deals and bad info. How he stays afloat is a miracle for me. But why all this have any connection with me? You never trusted our family`s business to me. Since you are planning just a short trip, why bother placing me in charge? You`ll be back in no time, and nobody from the Merchant Guild will know about your absence. Unless … there is something happening soon there, isn`t it?” Varric now eyed Bartrand suspiciously for the first time. “It`s something big, isn`t it? Something you cannot trust to your aides, something which requires a Tethras to be present in person. A Merchant Guild meeting is due soon, about an important issue. Am I right, brother?”
To Varric`s big surprise, Bartrand relaxed visibly and even smiled: “Say what you want, do pretend to be just a surfacer and a writer, but you`re a true dwarf to the core, brother. One who thinks first about family honor, and everything else comes as a distant second. Your mind is sharp and to the point. Yes, it`s a Guild meeting about trade with Orzamar and Tevinter. A committee of supervisors for the trade routes between Orzamar and Minrathous are due to arrive here in a few days, to discuss transport and trade concessions. Trade with Tevinter is very important for Orzamar, as it was well before the first Blight. And Kirkwall is an important station for many trade routes. Such a visit means one thing: the committee wants to appoint a new House to direct the trade which passes through Kirkwall. It`s probably the most important event for Kirkwall`s Merchant Guild in years.”
“If this is the case, don`t you think that the Javaris business is just a bit too convenient, Bartrand? The perfect excuse to have you removed from Kirkwall at the right time. By the way, who is the current director for these trade routes?”, asked Varric, suddenly quite worried.
Bartrand eyed his brother as if he saw him the first time in years, or ever. Anyway, this kind of shit. “It may be so, brother. Quite possible. Torrold Meino owns the Orzamar trade through Kirkwall now, and he doesn`t want to lose it. And he`s quite capable of doing anything to secure the deal for House Meino for the future. But I have to do the trip with Javaris. If the mine is real and reachable, and House Tethras owns it, it`s like being a true Noble House again. Nobody outside Orzamar owns a lyrium mine. It`s a big risk to do this right now, but it`s worth it. Anyway, it`s also time for your rite of passage, little brother. So you see, not everything is just doom and gloom.”
“The what?” a really alarmed Varric was able to say before he lost his voice for a moment.
“Your Rite of Passage, Varric. Every member of a merchant House has to pass it to become a full member. It`s like a Proving for a warrior. You need to assume the position of the House leader for a few days during an important event and deal with everything the Merchant Guild throws at you. Do it well, and you`ll become a respected member of the community. Do it wrong and you`ll become an outcast, and nobody will ever want to deal with you again. And this is a good time by my reckoning. House Tethras does not own the trade routes, so if you win the deal our House gains power and influence. If you lose, House Tethras maintains its status quo. No prestige or influence lost. Do you think I would be foolish enough to leave you to do this if we owned the routes? Now, dear brother, I`ll leave you to prepare for your next mission. Your first ever mission, actually. Make House Tethras proud, First Merchant Varric.” Bartrand said grinning broadly. A pleased grin, not a nasty one for a change. Then he got up and left the room, still smiling.
The room felt deserted and lifeless for several minutes. Then Varric got up and stared at the door, uttering a single-word comment: “Shit.”
*** The tavern was the worst place ever for Varric, the fresh adventurer. Loud, full of smoke and soot, with plenty of vomit and garbage on the floor, and mostly vomit on every table. Everybody was talking at once, some even tried to sing several drunken songs at once, with drunken voices. In a far corner, some patrons entertained themselves with the traditional brawling and head-bashing. In a word, the usual Tavern from every story Varric has ever read or wrote.
It was called “The Hanged Man” and deep into Lowtown. The last place a Merchant Guild member will ever choose for a drink, and the main reason Varric was here this night. To experience the place, and also Lowtown. His probable new residence after the Guild meeting. Varric was absolutely convinced he will fail and will have to come here to live afterward.
After looking around one more time, Varric took a careful sip from his mug, only to spit it out in shock afterward. No wonder the tavern was so full of vomit. This beer was beyond foul. It seemed more like a carefully crafted stinky poison, attempting to kill the unlucky thirsty patron with both smell and taste. Varric would have been happy to exchange it for an Antivan brandy. Any brandy, in fact. But he figured out that soon this beer would be the only drink he`ll ever afford, so better start being used to it.
A slender non-descript waitress approached Varric`s table, took a short look at him, and stated: “You don`t look as enjoying your drink, Master dwarf. You are here for the second service, then?”
“The second service?” Varric asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
“News. Everybody is here for two and two things only: drinks and news” the woman said, looking with increased interest at her new client. “You`re here for the Orzamar committee. Just my guess.”
“How do you …” Varric stopped abruptly and signed the woman to sit down. “What do you know about the committee?“ asked Varric, placing casually a sovereign on the table.
The coin disappeared as by magic, and the woman`s voice became a low whisper: “A few important things. They arrived at Kirkwall less than an hour ago, before my shift started.” The woman stopped abruptly and looked unblinkingly at Varric. Another sovereign appeared and disappeared the same way. “They arrived on an unmarked ship, apparently in secrecy”. The same abrupt silence.
“Can you take me to the ship?” asked Varric with another gold coin.
“Yes, but not for this” answered the woman carefully.
Varric made a quick decision and placed all his remaining seven sovereigns on the table. “How about a full employment, starting this moment?”
The woman looked with an expressionless face at the coins, then at Varric. “I may be able to do that. What is the job?”
“Spymaster for House Tethras,” said Varric with a suddenly very determined voice.
This time, the woman collected each coin slowly. Then asked: “What`s the first job, boss?”
“Take me to the ship right now. What`s your name?”
“Edwina.”
*** They made it to the harbor at a brisk pace. Despite her height advantage, Edwina had to almost run in order to stay close to a very determined Varric. She kept glancing at her new boss, surprised by the radical change Varric went through in less than an hour.
The first time she saw him at the tavern`s table, Varric looked disoriented, lost, and on edge. Almost jumpy. Now he was acting almost like a prince or king, which was … Of course, she realized suddenly. Noble House Tethras from Orzamar. One of the exiled houses, a recent exile at that. In Orzamar her new boss would have been almost a prince at his age. Probably raised and groomed to be one. And dwarven nobles are very serious about intelligence gathering and spying – more like paranoid, in fact. Apparently, she has made a very good choice this time.
Varric stopped suddenly. “Where?” he asked.
“Third pier,” came the answer.
The third pier was visible from where they were standing. There was no movement or light aboard any of the moored ships. Varric glanced briefly in the general direction of the ships, then started to move again, in the same decisive way. Away from the pier, and toward a secondary alley shrouded in darkness.
“Where are we … ?” dared to ask Edwina in a hushed voice.
“Warehouse 31,” came again the brief answer.
Edwina almost stopped. What the… Oh, the safe-place. She looked again curiously toward Varric. You`re much more than just a young dwarf, don`t you? This might be my best career move ever and to think I almost passed it … She kept the pace now with a new energy and goal.
If Edwina was constantly surprised by the new Varric, he was shocked inside. It was like something in his mind took control of him since he heard the words “Orzamar committee” in the tavern. Like some sort of a dwarven mind, growing slowly in the past years while accompanying Bartrand to the docks, ships, warehouses, markets and the smelly basement in Tethras mansion where his brother placed his real office. While reading business contracts and ledgers, books of Orzamar official history, dwarven symbolism and tradition. Bartrand you bastard, cursed Varric with his own mind, you`ve always known this day will come. But you never ever warned me about this shitty Rite of Passage.You also knew I was prepared even before me, don`t you brother?
They approached the warehouse. Varric stopped and looked to the right side of it, searching for the hidden door. There, he thought and extracted the lockpick set from his pocket. Picking the lock was piece of cake for a well-practiced Varric, who "trained" constantly during nights in the family mansion. The door opened with a muffled click, and Varric followed by Edwina slipped silently through. They were in a small hall of the sort, with only one door in front of them. Varric opened it and entered. Edwina followed.
The room was relatively small but well lit. It was furnished with several beds and a large table. There were three middle-aged dwarves sitting at the table, opposite to the door. They were rising slowly from their seats, their gaze fixed on Varric and Edwina.
“My Lord Dace,” said Varric with a bow, looking at the dwarf in the middle. “Lord Helmi, Lord Aeducan,” continued he, with slightly less pronounced bows, addressed to the other two dwarves. “Welcome to Kirkwall. I am Varric of House Tethras, at your service. I came to offer you proper accommodations during your stay in the city.”
“How do you know who I am?” asked Dace surprised. “We`ve never met.”
“Lord Anwer`s ceremonial Proving dagger is hard to miss, my lord,” said Varric confidently. “Or the family heraldry on your tunics, gentlemen,” continued he, looking also to the other two committee members. “I have expected your arrival for some time. May I escort you gentlemen to House Tethras`s mansion?”
“That`s hardly appropriate, master Varric,” said Dace. “We are here for an official business, concerning Orzamar.”
“This is why it would be more than appropriate, my lord. It`s unacceptable for high-ranking Orzamar officials to conduct any official business in such a place. Using House Tethras`s mansion as a residence would be bad manners only as guests of House Tethras. I am offering our mansion as a temporary residence for you, gentlemen. I will move out during your stay and negotiations with Kirkwall`s Merchant Guild.”
Dace smiled and looked at his two companions. Both of them returned his smile and bowed slightly. “We accept your gracious offer, Lord Tethras. However, we have to discuss something with you in private,” said Dace, looking at Edwina.
“She is my second and spymaster,” answered Varric the silent question. “A former Antivan Crow, now loyal to me only. I trust her with my life.”
It took Edwina all her training to not stare at Varric. But she succeeded to keep her pose.
“I see. Well then, let`s sit for a brief moment, gentlemen,” said Dace. He continued, after all of them sat down, with Varric and Edwina opposite the three dwarfs: “We were dispatched at the request of Lord Anwer Dace and under the patronage of King Endrin to conduct an investigation concerning the activities of Lord Torrold Meino on our behalf. There are many rumors about misconduct, illegal appropriation of profit and changes of ownership. If what we find will prove these rumors true, we are authorized to renegotiate our concessions with the Kirkwall Merchant Guild.”
“If this is the case, you gentlemen will find House Tethras`s mansion suitable in many ways,” said Varric with a smile. There are several documents of great interest for you. And of course, you will have our House clerks at your disposal for any kind of investigation you wish to conduct.”
“Then let`s go. It`s late, and we just finished a long journey,” concluded Dace and got up. All the other participants imitated him.
*** 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.”
*** 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.”
*** The next day, a dashing Varric stood in front of the Merchant Guild meeting hall`s door. He wore his best official outfit and looked eager to start a new career as a Kirkwall merchant. Around him, the usual pandemonium of a very busy trade house reached its early afternoon stage. Traders shouting prices for shiploads of goods, ship captains and caravan masters writing reports, rich merchants exchanging goods, gossip or both at small business tables, while sipping expensive brandy or wine and smoking everything known in Thedas. Or so it appeared to Varric, who hated smoking. He smiled for the last time to the First Chamberlain Orrick and announced himself to the doorman.
Amidst the announce: “Varric of House Tethras!” he entered a room spread around a large marble table, with twelve throne-like chairs around it. Eleven were already filled by menacing-looking dwarfs. Nobody turned his head to notice him. Varric stepped forward and sat on the free chair. The next moment, the chair was thrown viciously by a powerful kick, with the hapless Varric ending splattered on the floor, with the face in the general direction of the table and its occupants.
“That`s more like it!” said a middle-aged very strong looking dwarf with a reddish beard. “The floor is the place for beardless kids. This table is for dwarfs only.”
“Master Torrold, I`m here on behalf of Bartrand …” started Varric to explain himself. “I know. And this is your seat” said Torrold, pointing to the floor. “Take it or leave.”
Varric got up, dusted himself very slowly, said “Good day, gentlemen!” and left the room. Torrold grinned broadly, looked around to the all smiling Guild members and said: “This looks like the shortest Rite of Passage in Kirkwall`s history. Let`s go celebrate.” Outside the room, Varric heard him and smiled.
*** The same evening, the returning Guild members were greeted by loud shouts and laughter coming from their meeting room. “What`s this nonsense?” growled Torrold and kicked the door, then stood there with his mouth wide open.
The room seemed an extension of the tavern they just left, with the table full of ale mugs and wine cups, in front of drunken dwarves all shouting and banging the table in rhythm. A somewhat less drunk dwarf was standing on top of the table, reciting some dwarvish nonsense mentioning nugs way too often. Torrold recovered quickly, strode forward, grabbed the standing dwarf by the collar, tossed him to the floor and kicked him out of the room, helped by the immaculately polished marble floor`s innate smoothness. “Stay out, moron! And all of you, follow your friend double quick unless you want to slide after him!” growled Torrold. The room cleaned out faster than expected from a bunch of drunken dwarfs close to stupor.
“Orrick!” roared Torrold, angry beyond belief. “Who dared to let those idiots in our meeting room?”
“It was me, your lordship. They are the members of the Dwarven Poetry Club, and tonight a nug poetry meeting was scheduled. Unfortunately, so many members turned in tonight that I had no other large enough room to offer them than this one, and … “ started Orrick to explain himself. He was interrupted by a serious punch in the face from the angered Torrold.
“Cut it off, man! Get out! You`re lucky to be a good servant, otherwise …”. By the time he reached the threat, Orrick was nowhere to be seen.
Torrold calmed down, then sat at the top of the table, motioning the other members to occupy their seats. “Now, about the trade and transport concessions with Orzamar and Minrathous. The committee is due to arrive in any day. This is what I think we should do …”
*** The next day around noon, a very pleased Torrold sat in his high-backed chair at the head of the meeting table, smiling. The deals with the other members went smoothly, better than expected. Everyone seemed quite subdued after his recent exaggerated bursts of anger, as he anticipated. After yesterday`s display, no one dared to even interrupt him anymore. Confronting him … was perhaps as likely as daring to stand in front of an angry dragon. Torrold was pleased even with that nonsense poetry competition, which offered him the chance to display his calculated violence twice more, practically beating all the other members of the Council into submission without resorting to long speeches and tiresome negotiations. The things he really hated all his life. He would have preferred to become a warrior instead of a surface merchant. But it was a family order…
But today it was a good day to be a dwarven merchant.
That is, up to this moment. Because the meeting room opened way too soon. And in came Worthy the merchant, with an official dispatch box under his right arm. Worthy stopped a few paces in front of the table, opened the box, extracted a suspiciously short gilded parchment and said: “Lord Torrold, my lords, I was delegated to present this letter from the Orzamar Committee for your consideration.”
Worthy started to read the letter: “After a short and unpleasant deliberation, the Committee decided to remove any trade and transport concession concerning Kirkwall from House Meino with immediate effect. All concessions will be transferred to House Tethras starting today at noon.” Worthy paused and placed the document on the table in front of a stunned Torrold. “Below are the signatures of every committee member. Have a good day, my lords”.
Worthy saluted and turned to leave. “Stop!” Roared Torrold “Do you know the reason for this nonsense?” asked him shaking with anger.
“Why do you even need to ask, Lord Meino, after what you have done with the Head member Jorrin Dace last evening? I think you should have expected this outcome,” said Worthy rather politely.
“What? I never even saw …” started to argue Torrold, then stopped, with a sudden nightmarish idea emerging in his mind. “The poet I kicked out yesterday was Jorrin then.”
“Yes. And Lord Dace is quite convinced you had some good reasons to do so.” added a helpful Worthy. “Good day, my lords.” Torrold stood stunned for a few minutes, in a very uncomfortable silence. Then got up and stormed out.
*** About two hours later, Varric and his new spymaster were deep in conversation at a table in The Hanged Man. The table was well obscured by a pillar, so nobody entering the tavern was able to see them. And anyway, Varric was barely recognizable in his servant outfit.
“Are you sure?” was Varric saying. Edwina looked at him half amused. “As I said, he was meeting with Short Tobias. Some of Shorty`s crew were also present”. Short Tobias was a giant Carta leader, the most vicious and ruthless of them. A nice piece of work. Varric nodded: “As expected. Anything else?”
“They placed several spies around Tethras mansion. No other movements.” Said a very confident Edwina. “Then it`s tonight,” said an equally confident Varric. “Do you need company, boss?” asked her slightly concerned, looking at Varric`s beardless young face. “No. You know, I think I`m starting to enjoy all this charade. I don`t know why I never thought about a career as a spy agent. It looks like a lot of fun.”
“Sometimes, boss. But most often is either boring or deadly” said matter-of-factly the new spymaster.
“Oh well, you can`t have everything. This is what I need you to do…”
*** Varric was seated on an ornate pillow in the middle of his bed, reading a book about a very lucky Antivan Crow. The night was quite warm, but the window of his room stood closed. He just reached a very exciting episode when the door started to open quietly.
“Do come in, Torrold. You and your friends are all invited.” said a cheerful Varric. Torrold and five others slowly entered the room, Shorty among them.
“Have a seat, Master Torrold” Varric gestured toward the only chair in the room, the one used by Bartrand a few days before.
Torrold sat down slowly, constantly watching Varric`s face. “Do you know why I`m here?” asked Torrold very calmly. “To apologize for your behavior, I guess,” said a happy-sounding Varric. “To strangle you with your own innards, for stealing my concessions. Then I`ll impale you and leave your body at the entrance.”
“I`m sorry to hear this, Torrold dear. So let`s talk business” said Varric and closed his book suddenly. Instantly, dozens of crossbow bolts filled the room from every direction, peppering everyone except Varric and Torrold.
“You`ve missed!” an angry Torrold roared, drawing his sword.
“On the contrary. You`re already dead, dear Torrold. You just don`t know it yet” said Varric, then jumped up and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
A stunned Torrold retreated slowly toward the door, listening frantically to any sound or noise. He heard nothing except his heartbeat. When he was close enough to the door, he reached out with his armed right hand to open it, when a vicious cut severed the tendons of his forearm, then a hard kick shattered his right knee. Torrold stumbled backward, trying to catch his falling sword with the left hand when a slender blade cut the Achille`s tendon of his left leg while another almost severed his left forearm completely.
Torrold hit the ground hard on his back and his head made a sick noise. Varric`s face appeared in his field of vision, just inches in front of him. “I never understood men like you, Torrold. Always so sure and decisive, and always so stupid. You never thought that something is amiss when your spies reported that I`m all alone this evening? And how can you forget about Durin, my father`s second and cousin, who incidentally was one of the greatest Proving champions in Orzamar history? Do you think he never taught me anything, despite being his favorite nephew? Goodbye, Torrold” said Varric and cut his throat with both blades.
*** Varric and Edwina were returning to The Hanged Man after safely escorting the Orzamar Committee members to their nondescript ship. They were quite pleased to finish the job so fast and eager to catch the morning tide.
It was a warm night and Varric was enjoying the soft breeze. “We will stay at The Hanged Man until morning, just in case. To avoid a surprise encounter with Shorty`s friends.”
“Sounds good, boss. I still don`t understand several things, though. I had the impression that Orzamar and Antivan politics are similar. But the Committee acted very strangely. Why would they accept an offer from House Tethras - a clearly interested party? Why would Jorrin Dace and the others accept a plan which required them to be humiliated by Torrold? I know that dwarves are very proud and quick to react if insulted, so it just doesn't make any sense to me,” asked Edwina confused. “And why would they accept such a crazy plan – based on a nug poetry competition? It sounds all too childish to me. No offense.” she added quickly.
“It`s quite straightforward. Offering the mansion was my right, and it served to meet Dace and to learn the true intentions behind the Committee`s arrival. When Dace explained that they are searching for proof, all became clear. There is no such thing as a neutral investigation in Orzamar. When there is a search for proof, it means that the decision was already made, and the evidence is needed just to support it. It was clear to me that Orzamar wanted House Meino removed from the trade deal. This also explained why they accepted my offer about the mansion. Since I was the first representative of a Merchant House to contact them, they enlisted me for the job. More than that, they already knew that I will help them.”
“How could they know that you will work with them?”
“Because it was House Meino who provided the proof against my House when we were exiled. Every dwarf in Orzamar or on the surface worth its salt knows what this means: our houses are in conflict because of this. Dace knew it and Meino also knew it. And this was also the key to the plan.
I went to the Guild meeting expecting a humiliation from Meino. It happened. Also, Meino already guessed or was informed about Orzamar`s plan to remove him from the trade deals. But he failed to notice the arrival of the Committee – this is why Dace and the others came in secrecy. Meino is a brutal man, and I expected that he will act very aggressively in the days before the Committee arrives. Just to establish some control over the Guild Council. It`s how he acted in the past. So I proposed Dace the nug poetry gambit. Nug poetry competitions are an old Orzamar tradition. Dace needed to be directly offended by Torrold. And exactly this is what happened. This gave Dace the perfect motive and right to remove House Meino from the trade. All I had to do next is to prepare for Torrold`s assassination attempt against me. He must have been mad after losing the concession to a kid.
I had to be seen as alone in the mansion, so all my servants were told to leave, except my chamberlain hidden in the secret room with the three Orzamar dwarves. I waited for your signal from outside – that Torrold and the assassins are entering the mansion. At my signal, the chamberlain activated the crossbows, killing Shorty and the Carta assassins. And leaving only Torrold and me alive, as planned. The crossbows were placed to miss my bed and Torrold`s chair. I needed to kill Torrold myself since he directly offended me and House Tethras with my humiliation at the Guild meeting and the assassination attempt. And Dace served as a witness. All this means that House Meino is finished on the surface. It`s probably what House Dace planned from the start. And I avenged my father and House Tethras.”
"The famous dwarven honor. All this was about dwarven honor?" asked Edwina incredulously.
"Honor and status," added Varric.
*** The next morning, an armor-clad Varric entered the Merchant Guild meeting room, carrying a golden and large dispatch box. His armor was an old Tethras relic and Durin`s favorite one. The exact one he used at the Provings.
Varric stopped in front of the table, near the front seat occupied usually by Torrold and now empty. All ten Council members watched him silently, confused by his outfit and behavior. And also by Torrold`s unusual absence.
Casually Varric opened the box, extracted Torrold`s head, placed it on the table in front of the empty seat. “Lords, my negotiations with lord Meino are finished. Any Council member open for negotiations concerning the trade and transport deal with Orzamar is invited to do so with me personally at the Tethras mansion. This is my last visit at the Merchant Guild House. An excellent day, gentlemen.” Then he turned around and left the room in stunned silence.
*** A few days later a tired Bartrand entered Tethras mansion. To his surprise, Varric was in the main hall, greeting him.
“Good day, little brother. How was your Rite of Passage?” asked Bartrand with a rather bored voice. “Nothing special, brother. I won the trade and transport concessions for our house” said calmly Varric.
“You did what?” shouted Bartrand surprised. “All concessions, you say, everything? What about House Meino and Torrold?”
“House Meino is no more, brother. They agreed to my terms and came over to House Tethras” said Varric matter-of-factly.
“And Torrold?” insisted a shocked Bartrand. “All that`s left of Torrold is his head, and I left it at the Merchant Guild house. I don`t know what they did with it” explained slowly Varric.
Bartrand suddenly felt an irresistible urge to sit down and digest all these incredible news. He looked to Varric`s calm face for several minutes, shaking his head.
“Anything else I should know, brother?” asked him finally.
“From now on, I`m moving out. I`ve rented a permanent room at The Hanged Man tavern. It`s in Lowtown, you know.” Varric stood up: “Goodbye, brother. I have some business to attend. We`ll see each other tomorrow morning”. Then he left.
It took a few minutes for Bartrand to realize two things: Varric was long gone, and he never asked anything about his trip.
This tale has a rather awkward history. Varric told it to me after I tricked him into a drinking contest with some very old Antivan brandy during a celebration of his latest novel. That was some time ago, but fortunately, I remained sober enough to be able to write it down in my journal. Then recently I presented the story to Varric and asked for permission to publish it in Kirkwall`s newspaper. Varric said just: “If you want to embarrass yourself, go ahead”.
So here it is. I don`t know how much is true, or how much is just Antivan brandy. Still, the fact is that Varric lived in The Hanged Man for many years, and a lot of strange people kept visiting him day and night. Also, sometimes Varric is harsher than a dwarven legionnaire. So it`s quite possible to be entirely true, and maybe the real events were even more gruesome.
As for why Varric decided suddenly to leave his family mansion and move to a Lowtown tavern, my guess is that he had multiple reasons: He realized that The Hanged Man is the best place for every worthwhile news in Kirkwall, and a perfect place for a spy network, with his fantasy writing a perfect cover. Also, he felt that it`s a safer place than the Tethras mansion after he frightened the Guild Council and more importantly Bartrand. The best option for Varric was to hide until all of them have forgotten what really happened – the most dangerous dwarf in all Kirkwall just turned single-handedly the entire Merchant Guild upside down.
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Post by adrianbc on Feb 26, 2017 17:53:04 GMT
The Hero of Ferelden and Warden-Commander is Dalish rogue Theron Mahariel
The Cat Gambit
It was raining for two days. The kind of constant, never changing small drops rain, the one which drives you bored or mad. The kind of rain forbidding anything happening outside. The entire world was quiet and just waiting for a change. Any change. Anders sighed and turned his face from the window.
He was recovering after a courtesy visit to Kal`Hirol (well, if fighting off the most recent darkspawn incursion can qualify as "visit"). Anders really hated the Deep Roads, but the Hero of Ferelden was far away on a secret mission, and he was needed.
With nothing exciting to do in sight, Anders fetched the yarn ball and presented it to Pounce-a-lot. Cats are always happy to chase fast moving objects, but this one did more than catching the small hardened yarn balls. Pounce-a-lot knew how to return it and usually aimed to Anders`s eyes or nose as if on purpose, then waited for his reaction with his head tilted a little to the left.
This day was even worse than usual. Pounce-a-lot kept hitting the sensible targets almost at every attempt. Half an hour later a quite dizzy Anders asked loudly: “Is this payback for what happened at Kal`Hirol? Honestly, I couldn`t expect a Genlock to be so crazy to grab your tail and swing you around. Anyway, I rescued you at the end.”
“And this should make me feel better? Who came up with the brilliant idea to carry me into a fight in his coat? Have you any notion of how filthy and foul smelling that creature was? I had to endure the whole package a full minute until he decided that claws and fangs are no fun. Also, I almost hit the wall when he threw me!” came the soprano answer as the ball hit Anders in the forehead with a force not becoming a kitten. But that was not the main reason for Anders to dive like crazy toward the table, where his staff was just…
His staff was now in the hands of a tall and slender woman, with black hair and iron gaze, although with a hint of irony also.
“I wouldn`t be so sure your staff will be of any help to you now…” she said with a vague smile. “Or anything else, if I wanted to harm you”. She held the staff casually with her right hand as if perfectly accustomed to its weight and use.
“What are you? And how did you get here? What happened to Ser Pounce-a-lot?” asked Anders suddenly concerned, looking around his room. “I was always your Pounce-a-lot, you idiot. Since Theron found me in the courtyard. And the question is not what but who I am. Sit down before you do something stupid. I have little tolerance for fools”. The black haired woman answered with a slightly annoyed grimace. “Don`t you have a mind of your own? Think, Anders. Think for a change!”
“You`re Morrigan,” said matter-of-factly Anders, retreating a step and seriously concerned now. He doubted to be a match for the famous Witch of the Wilds. He remembered some stories about… “You can shapeshift into many animal forms. Why a cat?” “Because of your like for cats, Anders. And I needed to be close to Theron, but not that close. A pet cat for a companion will do,” smiled Morrigan, a little bit flattered by Anders`s new attention.
“If you wanted to spy on Theron why did you choose to disappear after the Battle of Denerim? It would have been easy to accompany him to Vigil Keep and…” Anders was interrupted by a not so gentle hit on the head from his own staff. “Since when are my plans open to discussion with you? Have I asked you about why you accepted the Grey Warden`s offer instead of returning to the Circle or escaping again?” said Morrigan amused. “It`s not enough that I`m here, as I was throughout the entire campaign against the Architect and the Mother. I am here to help Theron, not to spy on him.”
“Really? Then why don`t you came here in human form, not sneaking around as some cute but helpless kitten …” Anders stopped in alarm as a ray of raw energy hit him in the chest. He glanced at Morrigan, who still held his staff casually, but now leveled and trained to him. “Do I look like a kitten to you right now, Anders? Anyway, I did not know anything about the Architect and the Mother back then. But if something really serious would have happened, something harmful for him, I was close. Not that I think Theron is defenseless. He is an Arcane Warrior, after all” said Morrigan nonchalantly, but as if trying to cover a hint of concern.
Despite his growing fear about the probably crazy witch, Anders couldn`t resist and burst into a loud laugh: “What are you talking about? Theron`s not a mage. It`s obvious for anyone. Are you sure you know how to recognize other mages than yourself…” Anders stopped speaking abruptly and looked in horror at Morrigan, who was now grinning quite obviously.
“That`s better. I just silenced you for a moment. Your blabbering was really annoying. It`s you who should ask yourself if capable to recognize magic when you`re encountering it. Why do you think you`re capable of doing magic? What`s magic anyway? It`s a use of raw energy for our purposes, whether conscious or not, from the Fade, blood or any energy sources. You don`t need to be able to use such energy to produce magic. It`s also possible to borrow the skill from someone. How do you think Templars are capable of magic? And don`t say that they are doing something else. I`ve spent enough time with Alistair to learn exactly what Templars do, and how they do it.”
“Are you saying that Theron is possessed, that he`s an abomination? Are you crazy? I would have recognized such a thing a long time ago!” Anders was projected unceremoniously into his favorite chair, while Morrigan sat down on his bed.
“You and I need to talk through a few things, Anders, so you won`t ever bother me with foolish questions. Theron may not be born as a mage, but something happened to him recently. I don`t know if it was in some ruins he explored before being recruited, or in the old Elven Brecilian ruins. I think that he encountered a spirit who became some sort of companion. What`s certain is that after he discovered some sort of old phylactery containing an ancient elven spirit who taught him the Arcane Warrior lore, Theron started using magical energy almost constantly during battles. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but he`s always connected to a raw energy source. I tried to ask him about this in some convoluted ways, but he seems to know nothing about what`s happening. Nor is he aware of any kind of spirit talking with him, observing him or connected with him in any way. It`s also possible that maybe his soul is ancient, and some recent event just awakened it. I asked around in the Dalish camp we visited during the Blight, and it seems that his parents were also visiting some very old Elven ruins before he was born. So it`s not unlikely that he has a very old elven soul inside.”
“Are you now saying Theron is not just an ordinary abomination? That he is possessed by some angry old spirit who…” “Stop being foolish, Anders. We are all abominations in a sense. What do you think this world is? Why people dream in the Fade? Why are mages able to enter it? This world is more likely a Fade creation. The only difference between the Fade we can enter sometimes and this world is that here the rules are more stable for most people. But how can you produce heat, lightning or drain heat? What is healing? How am I able to became a cat, or a bear if not by changing the rules? You heard about Flemeth being able to shapeshift into a dragon. Do you think the entire mass of a dragon is hidden somewhere when not used? We mages are able to create by bypassing the rules. What rules are in the Fade? Why are rules only on Thedas?”
Anders sat down slowly. He stared at Morrigan for minutes, incapable of saying a word. Thinking. Thinking faster than ever in his life. His eyes stared at the window, then his head bowed a little. ”Are you saying that all this world is an illusion and all this just a Fade creation? That the Maker is just a powerful spirit or demon, and this is his realm? And this is why the darkspawn came into existence when mages tried to evade Maker`s realm?” said he with shining eyes, looking with interest toward Morrigan for the first time.
“I don`t know anything about the Maker, or how the darkspawn first appeared. I can just speculate about. What I know is that all creatures living in this world are also some kind of spirits. And those born as mages are probably some kind of different spirits, able to alter the rules and create, while others cannot. And maybe this is why spirits and demons are sometimes entering our world. They are curious, or simply found themselves here.” “There is one thing I still cannot understand. What do you want from the Warden-Commander? The war with the Architect is over. And Theron is not after you, he has an important task here. Can`t you just leave him in peace?”
“Actually, he is looking for me right now. This is the “secret mission” he is missing for. But I`m not here to spy on him. Or on the Grey Wardens. Theron and I were… close, so when I learned about his new position at Vigil`s Keep I thought that maybe… not that I think he can`t defend himself, but I heard about some serious darkspawn trouble around Amaranthine. Something strange, unknown. I have my own tasks, so I used a ring I gave him to know about his location and maintain a contact of the sorts. After the ambush he survived while arriving at Vigil keep, I decided to keep an eye on him. Cat`s eyes, in fact.” said Morrigan, smiling but visibly concerned now.
Strangely, Anders felt completely relaxed and somehow relieved. Humanity and human emotions are familiar, recognizable and also comforting. He felt at home for the first time he saw Morrigan. “Hmmm… you know, based on the tales I heard, I figured out you are selfish, arrogant and very dangerous. Now it seems you are caring, patient and maybe even romantic. I wouldn`t have minded a teacher like you in the Circle.
“A teacher like me was never possible in the Circle, Anders. The Chantry does not want to teach mages, just to control them. But we can always talk more. Now come, let`s go out for a stroll. The rain just stopped outside, and the fresh air will help with your headache…”
*** The following weeks the other Grey Wardens started whispering about Anders and his strange obsession with his cat. Sometimes they even surprised him talking to Ser Pounce-a-lot. Since the Warden-Commander was still missing, they noticed the Seneschal, who promised to look into the matter …
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Post by adrianbc on Feb 27, 2017 7:27:15 GMT
I have deliberately omitted several plot elements from "Rite of Passage" in order to make the story shorter and also to leave them to the reader`s imagination. Like: What happened between Varric and the Orzamar committee. How did Varric "arrange" the humiliation of Jorrin Dace. What preparations were made by both Varric and Edwina for the final confrontation with Torrold. I can write these parts in two ways: (1) by including them in the story, and (2) by making an "interview" with Varric (obviously made by Hawke) for the Kirkwall Gazette. That is, if these plot elements are missed by readers. What do you think?
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Post by Obsidian Gryphon on Feb 27, 2017 12:07:28 GMT
I'd say go ahead. I have to say the idea of Morrigan grabbed by her tail is funny. I was also confused by the sudden name drop; Theron, until I figure it's the HOF's name from certain sentences.
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Post by adrianbc on Feb 27, 2017 12:21:43 GMT
I'd say go ahead. I have to say the idea of Morrigan grabbed by her tail is funny. I was also confused by the sudden name drop; Theron, until I figure it's the HOF's name from certain sentences. I wrote "The Cat Gambit" initial version for an online friend before Christmas two years ago. I wanted to be both funny and intriguing. I liked the idea of Morrigan forced to stay as a cat while swung by a genlock, and also her idea of revenge against Anders In DA fanfiction I prefer to use Bioware`s implicit names for the protagonist in order to be easily recognizable, without the need of any added description. So, you are saying that I should add those missing plot parts to "Rite of Passage"? Which version do you prefer? The modified story version or the interview?
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Post by Deleted on Feb 27, 2017 13:34:41 GMT
It's an interesting idea that Anders owns Morrigan in a cat form. I actually have no idea the protagonist was named Theron. It's a name that is over-used in SWTOR too, with minor spelling versions, so I was inadvertently thinking about Shan. Warden would have been better for me.
The one suggestion if I may would be replicating Morrigan's speech patterns from the game. Her speech is very distinctive and it will add the flavour to your story. Just read some of her banters with males, and try to fall in the same rhythm and phrase construction. That will make your dialogue better paced and more instantly identifiable. Ideally, the reader needs to recognize her before Anders says: Morrigan! From the first words out of her mouth. (I'd expect a jab at Anders, with a veneer of the fake Olde English).
Overall, it's a nice set-up for a story, but it trails off, instead of having an end. I'd suggest looking into an exciting punchline or some other form of a tight closure. The idea of the story that Morrigan is Anders's cat is great, but the story imo needs to be shorter, tighter, and has more sparks, less explanation of Morrigan's intentions, so the reader is amused by the presented hypothesis rather than lost in all the stuff that is not important for the impact of the story and that the imagination can supply to a fanfic reader. The familiarity with the world and characters is after all a fanfictioner's advantage, and in a "what if" story teaser it's good to make a use of it.
Grammar does need work, but grammar always does, heh.
Have fun writing!
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Post by adrianbc on Feb 27, 2017 14:32:51 GMT
It's an interesting idea that Anders owns Morrigan in a cat form. I actually have no idea the protagonist was named Theron. It's a name that is over-used in SWTOR too, with minor spelling versions, so I was inadvertently thinking about Shan. Warden would have been better for me. The one suggestion if I may would be replicating Morrigan's speech patterns from the game. Her speech is very distinctive and it will add the flavour to your story. Just read some of her banters with males, and try to fall in the same rhythm and phrase construction. That will make your dialogue better paced and more instantly identifiable. Ideally, the reader needs to recognize her before Anders says: Morrigan! From the first words out of her mouth. (I'd expect a jab at Anders, with a veneer of the fake Olde English). Overall, it's a nice set-up for a story, but it trails off, instead of having an end. I'd suggest looking into an exciting punchline or some other form of a tight closure. The idea of the story that Morrigan is Anders's cat is great, but the story imo needs to be shorter, tighter, and has more sparks, less explanation of Morrigan's intentions, so the reader is amused by the presented hypothesis rather than lost in all the stuff that is not important for the impact of the story and that the imagination can supply to a fanfic reader. The familiarity with the world and characters is after all a fanfictioner's advantage, and in a "what if" story teaser it's good to make a use of it. Grammar does need work, but grammar always does, heh. Have fun writing! Thanks for your comment Your ideas about "The Cat Gambit" are very good. I will attempt to rewrite the story by including Morrigan`s signature speech pattern, but it will take time. I need to analyze her dialogues from both games in order to come up with a natural sounding dialogue instead of just making some forced lines. The story was initially just a joke for a friend, so I wanted it to end like this. It`s not very difficult to change it radically - something in line with Morrigan`s reaction while using the voodoo doll at Alistair - while retaining the original idea of Morrigan being Anders`s cat. I`m not a native English speaker, and I learned English mostly by myself - by reading hundreds of books and writing scientific papers. This is also why I avoided Old English for Morrigan - I`m not exactly familiar with it. I like your comment a lot. If you have any ideas for new stories, or how to change these, don`t hesitate to post them. Right now I am working to extend "Rite of Passage" with the unincluded plot elements. I also want to write that Varric interview. It would be fun to write a Middle Age interview, especially with a purple Hawke and Varric ...
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Post by Deleted on Feb 27, 2017 14:48:13 GMT
If you guys don't mind, I'd share a story too. I re-wrote one of the shorts from my SWTOR "Tendrils Are Green" stuff to fit with the Inquisition crew for Dusk Fell and her companions. I think the jokes are still fairly relevant, though I've lost the interplay between the different protagonists in SWTOR that was something that I loved about the original. It is silly and will, hopefully, amuse :) And, yes, I am also an ESL, so the grammar was, of course, hurt really badly while writing this story here.
Tendrils Are Green (DA remake)
An unusually tall woman – think REAL tall, gray skin, aggressive tattoos, topped with horns for just in case - dressed in the inside-out bear hides, pressed her back into the cliff, surveying the situation around the corner. The muscle cords in her neck stood out as she strained to see. "Four Templars, Blackwall. Yours. Mage is mine. The rest of you… do what you will. On my mark!"
She tapped out the count on her rock-solid quad, thick as a dragon's. "Three, two, one, GO!" One of the party, a large human, made it around her with a predatory grace and broke into a wild charge with a fierce battle cry of:
INK! VI! ZI! SHUN!
Meanwhile, the large maiden’s form shimmered, disappearing from sight. All six and some feet of her. The other one of the maiden's companions, a stocky dwarf, whistled and muttered: “Here’s a woman that loves a challenge, doesn’t she, elf?” The said elf (the last of the group) did not respond. His eyes narrowed to lines, and lips got busy with a spell instead of bantering.
The opponents' mage was gleefully putting layers of icing on Blackwall (the kind made from magic ice, rather than sugar), when the lady solidified out of thin air behind him, and plunged two wickedly curved daggers into the man’s back. They came out of his chest, red and hot with blood. The woman made a powerful lateral motion, ripping the man in two, ribs, heart and all. She blinked out of existence again, only to come into view in the thick of the crushing shields and enraged shouts. “Look, elf, the dusk fell!” said the dwarf, and sighed. “Ah, Solas, it was a good one, and you’ve missed it. Her name is Dusk Fell, after all, and… Well, Bianca’s got it, right, Bianca?” The dwarf patted his crossbow as he was winding the winch for the next shot. The crossbow (evidently named Bianca) did not reply either.
The upside of the best in dwarven humor going unappreciated by his audience was that the wizard methodically balanced icing of the opponents with shielding his large human ally. Bianca was not idle either. Thus, by the time Dusk Fell came to Blackwall’s side, he was fighting three to one. And of those three, one had lost his nerve as the magic chill gripped his limbs.
He peeled from the group, towards the towering maiden, judging the reach of her daggers to be miserable compared to the swords’. His luck held long enough for him to leave a nasty scratch on the bear hide armor, but it got lost immediately between its many mates. Impossibly fast for her size, the rogue dove under his next swing and sliced his throat. Meanwhile, Blackwall used the heavy sword as a club to pound his opponent on the head, crushing a side of his skull into bloody pulp. There was more than battle fury in his gesture. There was a palpable frustration. The last foe was breathing his last by his feet, clutching the crossbow bolt that was ending his life.
"Targets down, Serrah," Blackwall reported.
"Acquire the supplies," Dusk Fell commanded briskly, avoiding his eyes. Blackwall hesitated for a fraction of a moment.
"We are the BEST of the BEST!" She yelled at him. "We are the INK! VI! ZI! SHUN!"
"We can do it!"
"YES, SERRAH!" Blackwall yelled back, without moving an inch.
"Damn it, Blackwall! If your Lady Commander tells you to go get the damned thing, you damn well get the DAMN THING! Now HOP TO IT!"
"Yes, Serrah," Blackwall muttered and stuck his sword deep into the soft, moist soil of the forest floor. The sword came out, showering everyone with dirt and carrying a dainty vine studded with white flowers on its tip. Scowling, the Warden proffered the plant to his fearsome leader.
"The plant is ours, Serrah! LONG LIVE THE INK! VI!..."
"Loose the root bulb!" The Inquisitor replied dryly.
"Understood, Serrah," Blackwall said crispily, "NO ROOT BULBS, SERRAH!" He snapped the stem off. It broke, but did not give, a bundle of green strings holding it together. The Warden ripped a dagger out of its sheath, and slashed at the enemy viciously. The steel severed the stubborn greenery. He threw the roots back over his shoulder, fixing Dusk Fell with an incinerating stare, then thrust the fragrant mass of green and white into her arms: "Your flowers, SERRAH!"
Dusk Fell held the armful of the leaves and petals to her chest. The white of the blooms set off her silvery complexion, and made her skin shine. She took a careful sniff. "Elfroot. Just what I’ve wanted. Well done, Blackwall!"
Then Dusk Fell squeezed the blooms into her pack, crushing the whole thing into a messy green goo.
"For the INK! VI! ZI! SHUN! "
The wild plants and villainy all over Thedas shook in their boots and on their roots.
Team Inquisition was coming.
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Post by adrianbc on Feb 27, 2017 15:07:24 GMT
If you guys don't mind, I'd share a story too. I re-wrote one of the shorts from my SWTOR "Tendrils Are Green" stuff to fit with the Inquisition crew for Dusk Fell and her companions. I think the jokes are still fairly relevant, though I've lost the interplay between the different protagonists in SWTOR that was something that I loved about the original. It is silly and will, hopefully, amuse And, yes, I am also an ESL, so the grammar was, of course, hurt really badly while writing this story here. Tendrils Are Green (DA remake)An unusually tall woman – think REAL tall, gray skin, aggressive tattoos, topped with horns for just in case - dressed in the inside-out bear hides, pressed her back into the cliff, surveying the situation around the corner. The muscle cords in her neck stood out as she strained to see. "Four Templars, Blackwall. Yours. Mage is mine. The rest of you… do what you will. On my mark!" She tapped out the count on her rock-solid quad, thick as a dragon's. "Three, two, one, GO!" One of the party, a large human, made it around her with a predatory grace and broke into a wild charge with a fierce battle cry of: INK! VI! ZI! SHUN! Meanwhile, the large maiden’s form shimmered, disappearing from sight. All six and some feet of her. The other one of the maiden's companions, a stocky dwarf, whistled and muttered: “Here’s a woman that loves a challenge, doesn’t she, elf?” The said elf (the last of the group) did not respond. His eyes narrowed to lines, and lips got busy with a spell instead of bantering. The opponents' mage was gleefully putting layers of icing on Blackwall (the kind made from magic ice, rather than sugar), when the lady solidified out of thin air behind him, and plunged two wickedly curved daggers into the man’s back. They came out of his chest, red and hot with blood. The woman made a powerful lateral motion, ripping the man in two, ribs, heart and all. She blinked out of existence again, only to come into view in the thick of the crushing shields and enraged shouts. “Look, elf, the dusk fell!” said the dwarf, and sighed. “Ah, Solas, it was a good one, and you’ve missed it. Her name is Dusk Fell, after all, and… Well, Bianca’s got it, right, Bianca?” The dwarf patted his crossbow as he was winding the winch for the next shot. The crossbow (evidently named Bianca) did not reply either. The upside of the best in dwarven humor going unappreciated by his audience was that the wizard methodically balanced icing of the opponents with shielding his large human ally. Bianca was not idle either. Thus, by the time Dusk Fell came to Blackwall’s side, he was fighting three to one. And of those three, one had lost his nerve as the magic chill gripped his limbs. He peeled from the group, towards the towering maiden, judging the reach of her daggers to be miserable compared to the swords’. His luck held long enough for him to leave a nasty scratch on the bear hide armor, but it got lost immediately between its many mates. Impossibly fast for her size, the rogue dove under his next swing and sliced his throat. Meanwhile, Blackwall used the heavy sword as a club to pound his opponent on the head, crushing a side of his skull into bloody pulp. There was more than battle fury in his gesture. There was a palpable frustration. The last foe was breathing his last by his feet, clutching the crossbow bolt that was ending his life. "Targets down, Serrah," Blackwall reported. "Acquire the supplies," Dusk Fell commanded briskly, avoiding his eyes. Blackwall hesitated for a fraction of a moment. "We are the BEST of the BEST!" She yelled at him. "We are the INK! VI! ZI! SHUN!" "We can do it!" "YES, SERRAH!" Blackwall yelled back, without moving an inch. "Damn it, Blackwall! If your Lady Commander tells you to go get the damned thing, you damn well get the DAMN THING! Now HOP TO IT!" "Yes, Serrah," Blackwall muttered and stuck his sword deep into the soft, moist soil of the forest floor. The sword came out, showering everyone with dirt and carrying a dainty vine studded with white flowers on its tip. Scowling, the Warden proffered the plant to his fearsome leader. "The plant is ours, Serrah! LONG LIVE THE INK! VI!..." "Loose the root bulb!" The Inquisitor replied dryly. "Understood, Serrah," Blackwall said crispily, "NO ROOT BULBS, SERRAH!" He snapped the stem off. It broke, but did not give, a bundle of green strings holding it together. The Warden ripped a dagger out of its sheath, and slashed at the enemy viciously. The steel severed the stubborn greenery. He threw the roots back over his shoulder, fixing Dusk Fell with an incinerating stare, then thrust the fragrant mass of green and white into her arms: "Your flowers, SERRAH!" Dusk Fell held the armful of the leaves and petals to her chest. The white of the blooms set off her silvery complexion, and made her skin shine. She took a careful sniff. "Elfroot. Just what I’ve wanted. Well done, Blackwall!" Then Dusk Fell squeezed the blooms into her pack, crushing the whole thing into a messy green goo. "For the INK! VI! ZI! SHUN! " The wild plants and villainy all over Thedas shook in their boots and on their roots. Team Inquisition was coming. I liked it a lot! Alive and crazy, like a scene from a Guy Ritchie movie The entire story feels more like a movie, with every scene both vivid and hysterical. Do you have more such stories?
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Post by Deleted on Feb 27, 2017 15:36:00 GMT
If you guys don't mind, I'd share a story too. I re-wrote one of the shorts from my SWTOR "Tendrils Are Green" stuff to fit with the Inquisition crew for Dusk Fell and her companions. I think the jokes are still fairly relevant, though I've lost the interplay between the different protagonists in SWTOR that was something that I loved about the original. It is silly and will, hopefully, amuse :) And, yes, I am also an ESL, so the grammar was, of course, hurt really badly while writing this story here.
I liked it a lot! :) Alive and crazy, like a scene from a Guy Ritchie movie :D The entire story feels more like a movie, with every scene both vivid and hysterical. Do you have more such stories? Heya! Thanks for the like and for asking. I am guilty of writing fanfiction for most of BioWARE games, mostly short stories because I struggle with grammar and cannot keep up with writing a full play-through as I play. The last ones I wrote were for SWTOR a couple years back and a couple of origin/background stories for the Revelation On-line protagonists (I did not play the game as it turned out terrible). This snippet is a quick remake of a bunch of loosely connected stories for SWTOR that are united by a paranoid Sith Lord Becchino that makes her underling, Lieutenant Quinn, to conduct “surveillance” of the activities of the other SWTOR protagonists. The original is posted on the fanfiction dot net as Dominique Sotto with even more grammar problems as Tendrils Are Green. I am itching to write again if I find a comfy & cozy writing community like we used to have on the SWTOR board
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Post by adrianbc on Feb 27, 2017 16:15:48 GMT
Heya! Thanks for the like and for asking. I am guilty of writing fanfiction for most of BioWARE games, mostly short stories because I struggle with grammar and cannot keep up with writing a full play-through as I play. The last ones I wrote were for SWTOR a couple years back and a couple of origin/background stories for the Revelation On-line protagonists (I did not play the game as it turned out terrible). This snippet is a quick remake of a bunch of loosely connected stories for SWTOR that are united by a paranoid Sith Lord Becchino that makes her underling, Lieutenant Quinn, to conduct “surveillance” of the activities of the other SWTOR protagonists. The original is posted on the fanfiction dot net as Dominique Sotto with even more grammar problems as Tendrils Are Green. I am itching to write again if I find a comfy & cozy writing community like we used to have on the SWTOR board This is why I wanted to start this thread: for new DA stories, no matter if short of long. There are a lot of things to write about, from three games and also five books. About characters, events (big or small, funny or sad). A lot of untold stories. What if we put some ideas and stories together? My immediate plan is about some stories to expand DA2 because seems the most undeveloped part of the DA saga. First, because it`s really Varric`s "Tale of Champion", which most likely omitted anything unrelated with Hawke & Co. Especially the trading side of Kirkwall. I am thinking that Kirkwall is a commercial city and everybody important has a hand (or both) in the trade business, including the nobles. Which means at least some cutthroat, spying, raiding, siding events. In short, to write about the untold part of the Kirkwall during the Hawke years. I have some ideas and started some stories. Nothing ready yet. This doesn`t mean that I`m not ready to write about something else from the DA world or help with the development of other ideas or stories.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 27, 2017 16:21:24 GMT
Heya! Thanks for the like and for asking. I am guilty of writing fanfiction for most of BioWARE games, mostly short stories because I struggle with grammar and cannot keep up with writing a full play-through as I play. The last ones I wrote were for SWTOR a couple years back and a couple of origin/background stories for the Revelation On-line protagonists (I did not play the game as it turned out terrible). This snippet is a quick remake of a bunch of loosely connected stories for SWTOR that are united by a paranoid Sith Lord Becchino that makes her underling, Lieutenant Quinn, to conduct “surveillance” of the activities of the other SWTOR protagonists. The original is posted on the fanfiction dot net as Dominique Sotto with even more grammar problems as Tendrils Are Green. I am itching to write again if I find a comfy & cozy writing community like we used to have on the SWTOR board This is why I wanted to start this thread: for new DA stories, no matter if short of long. There are a lot of things to write about, from three games and also five books. About characters, events (big or small, funny or sad). A lot of untold stories. What if we put some ideas and stories together? My immediate plan is about some stories to expand DA2 because seems the most undeveloped part of the DA saga. First, because it`s really Varric`s "Tale of Champion", which most likely omitted anything unrelated with Hawke & Co. Especially the trading side of Kirkwall. I am thinking that Kirkwall is a commercial city and everybody important has a hand (or both) in the trade business, including the nobles. Which means at least some cutthroat, spying, raiding, siding events. In short, to write about the untold part of the Kirkwall during the Hawke years. I have some ideas and started some stories. Nothing ready yet. This doesn`t mean that I`m not ready to write about something else from the DA world or help with the development of other ideas or stories. Well, what I've always liked was weekly thematic short story challenges, but they take time and efforts to maintain, so I don't know if there is enough participation and interest on this site. Example of SWTOR forum Challenge is here: www.swtor.com/community/showthread.php?t=469174
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Post by adrianbc on Feb 27, 2017 16:38:01 GMT
Well, what I've always liked was weekly thematic short story challenges, but they take time and efforts to maintain, so I don't know if there is enough participation and interest on this site. Example of SWTOR forum Challenge is here: www.swtor.com/community/showthread.php?t=469174You`ll never know it without trying. I`m in if you want to start a weekly thematic short story challenge for Dragon Age. And I`m sure there will be others, once started.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 27, 2017 17:15:05 GMT
Well, what I've always liked was weekly thematic short story challenges, but they take time and efforts to maintain, so I don't know if there is enough participation and interest on this site. Example of SWTOR forum Challenge is here: www.swtor.com/community/showthread.php?t=469174You`ll never know it without trying. I`m in if you want to start a weekly thematic short story challenge for Dragon Age. And I`m sure there will be others, once started. :) I am going to wait and see if the moderators do despaired to open a fan art subforum. This kind of thing is much more viable when the fandom is not limited to a single verse.
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Post by Catilina on Feb 27, 2017 18:11:04 GMT
A warrior's diary (Reinhard Hawke's story) Okay, this just a DA2 playthrough not a fanfic, only some kind RP stuff, but I like this character and his story. I dont know, who's more crazy: Anders or he. He is the hero, whom Kirkwall deserves. Sorry, guys!(I dont know, it meets the requirements, if not, I will delete)
(Reinhardt Hawke, reaver/berserker. Copy from "What did you do today in DA?" topic, and start from the Act 2. (Act 1 here, just screenshots))A few months ago: Barely three years passed ever since we arrived to Kirkwall as refugees, and now my family's name is well known in town again, this makes mother a bit happier, but I can't believe, that compensate her for loss of Carver and kidnap of Bethany.
Yesterday we stopped for a beer in The Hanged Man. The Grey Warden, Alistair sat in the corner, as often. He growled something at us, and then fell lethargy again. Poor man! Anders told his story. A few minutes later, a fereldan looking nobleman (perhaps bann Teagan? – he looks familiar) approached him and, after a less hassle, he politely escorted him.
On the way back I took a detour to the Anders' clinic. Isabela was here, but don't really wanted to know why. When she left, Anders frowned; he seemed more nervous than usual. He said that templars snooping around the clinic. I'm worries about him. I can not let them to take him away from me; I lost too much already! I realize, I fell in love, but he as well? Sometimes I feel that, but he is weird. Nevermind. I will protect him from everything!
At home a letter waiting for me. Arianni wrote, that Feynriel in trouble. Again. Once you help someone, you stay forever in his debt! Okay, let's go! In the Fade... fuck. But I'm not a mage! No matter, Anders will help. Fenris said, this is not for our-kind, and I do not want to scare him, so, I ask Merrill and Varric. In the Fade Anders turned into Justice. Justice was friendly, he mentioned, that Anders spoke about me.
This is a really weird place, almost weirder than Kirkwall... almost. The first demon with which we met, offered an alliance. Justice spoke from this creature, and warned me. Yes, yes, I know, I will be watchful. But... why not? This thing may can help me. Okay, I will deal with this, let's see what it have to offer, and later I will... Justice asked me again, to avoid having to fight me. But no! NO! I already decided! Stop Justice, step back from MY business! NOW! But he didn't... I killed... ANDERS! What I did?! Damn the foolish spirit! Damn me! I just promised to protect him, from everything. Except myself. Merrill also betrayed me, for this creature of pride. What happened with us? Justice was right; ofc he was... I need to be watchful. Feynriel still need my help. I promised. I found him, but here behind him the demon. "Wake up, Feynriel, you can do it! Get hold of yourself!" Of course, Torpor was not happy, but we killed it. Feynriel went to Tevinter to study. His nightmare ended. But my? Perhaps Fenris was right, this is not my place. I almost failed. What happened with Anders? And Merrill? Damn! Go back ro Arianni!
Oh, thanks the Maker, Anders live, and Merrill as well! Arianni was grateful, but Anders seems sad. I've never seen him like this, unless in the Chantry when he killed Karl. I must visit him. Immediately! I see, this will be hard. It was easier than I thought. Anders wanted to believe me. Anders was relieved when I told him what had happened, but none of us will forget this ever. He talked about Justice again, and that he understands how difficult can be to him, away from the fade, closed in a body, impotently. I think I'm starting to understand them.
Merrill also fine, relatively. Asked me, to help to fix this strange mirror. Why not, this seems interesting... I hope, she will be more careful. Go to Sundermount!
On the way we ambushed. The slave-hunters found Fenris. They was pretty easy prey, but the danger has not yet ceased. Fenris told, that Danarius' apprentice will not give up, we need to find her. Okay, maybe it's more urgent than Merrill's mirror. Let's go. Hadriana dead, Fenris breathe freely. It was hard, but I think I made friends with him, but still seems, he never will accept Anders. I wonder what he think about Bethany? I still hope that I can free her from the Circle...
We went back to the mountain. It looks Merrill terrified her clan. One of them died because of this fear. Weird. Finally I gave the knife to Merrill. I do not think it would be right to hold back.
A few days later i visited Anders again. He was upset, just as more and more often. I wish I could be able calm him somehow! He spoke about a mad, cruel templar, called Alrik, and his "Tranquil Solution". Hey! I know this name: Bethany wrote about him as someone who dangerous, and even Anders told, that he was, who tranquilised Karl. Easily convinced me. We went to a secret tunnel, what is used by the mage underground. It was not hard to find the Templar, he just threatened a girl. Anders lost the control over himself, and Justice came out again. Ser Alrik died pretty quickly. I think many people will sleep better in the Circle. But Justice now did not retreated. The girl called him demon... I shouted. "Hey, do not kill her! She is a mage, we came to protect her!" Oh, fuck, succeed. Anders himself again, but broken, and ran away. As we got back to Darktown, I sent the girl to home. Nobody will go back to this awful place, if depend on me! And I will get Bethany out of there, I swear! Whatever it takes! But Anders need me. I've never seen Anders so depressed! I assured him that he can control it: he or Justice, or both listened to me. He was grateful, though was still sad. Later I will definitely coming back.
It looks like he's calmed down a bit. I am glad. Finally, we could talk about happier things. Before I left, he admitted that he is also attracted to me, and suddenly kissed me. Then he talked about all sorts of nonsense, but I assured him, that I really know what he is, and I still love him and look forward him evening. He has come. I know I would do anything for him, until we die...
The next day I visited Aveline, I don't saw her since she became guard captain. She gave a strange job. Revealed, that she love a guardsman, named Donnic. Maker, she unbelievable lame! It would be painful to write, so I will not. Perhaps Varric will. Point is that they are happy together.
By the way Varric... Once he worried enough because of Anders and me, he told me, that he found Bartrand. So: let's kill speak with him! Bartrand rented a mansion in the Hightown. I called Fenris and Anders, and we went to visit him. Varric kicked the door, and we entered. Crazed guards attacked us. We did a huge massacre in the house, but there was no other choice. Finally we found Bartrand. He was totally mad. He spoke about some "song" and the idol, and ask Varric do not let shame their family. Anders cleared his mind him for a while, but told, he can't do more for Bartrand. Something evil power poisoned his mind. If Bartrand would not be dwarf, Anders would suspect somekind magic. Bartrand need of care throughout his future life. I assume, Varric did not desired such retribution.
When I got home, uncle Gamlen talked with Bodahn. He was worried about mother, because she had not visited him. Bodahn said that she maybe spend some time with her suitor, who sent that nice white lilies. Shit! That too familiar. Ser Emeric spoke about the white lilies, related the missed women. I don't think that's a good sign. The traces led to the abandoned foundry. Blood everywhere. And this smell! What the hell going on?! Demons. Again. Where are the crazy mages? Today still barely seen a few! An altar. The crazy mages must be here somewhere. But our family crested shield do not! A gray-haired mage appeared. He began complacently explain the relationship between the immortal love and the necromancy. It was totally absurd, but somehow I could not laugh. I was incredibly angry, but I tried to control myself. "I got it, you are crazy. But where is my mother?" He proudly pointed to a chair, in which a white figure seated with her back to us. The figure turned around and walked slowly toward us. A walking corpse. And then I recognized its face. Mother! The rest I can not describe. Somehow I arrived home, I spoke with uncle Gamlen. Later, I went up to the bedroom. Anders was there with me. He is all that remained for me. And Bethany. but she isn't safe. My stomach clenched.
A few weeks later a message came, from the Baron. He want to see me. And what I want? Like everyone else: a cold beer, a quiet evening with my love, and at least one fucking day without damn demons and mad people! Nevermind. Go to the Baron! He afraid, he would lose his son, because of qun, and the Arishok will use his son against him, against Kirkwall. Great. Go to the Arishok. According the Arishok I need to search Seamus in the Chantry. Petrice. Again. The chantry was empty, only Seamus knelt above, behind the railing. He was dead. Petrice appeared with her dirty Templars and some fanatical idiots. It was easy to kill them. By the time the Grand Cleric came out, the fight ended, just Petrice remained alive, but she also did not long enjoyed the privilege. A qunari archer entered in the Chantry, and executed her. His son's death broke the Baron.
I arrived home. Isabela fought with Aveline in the living room. Well, this was almost funny. Aveline complained about some elves and the Arishok, and Isabela told, that someone will kill her, for that fucking artifact. Isabela problem seemed more urgent... We found the artifact, the Tome of Koslun. The qunari sacred book. And Isabela ran away with it. I'm sure that will be war. And seems I'm the eye of the storm. Oh, fuck!
Now it is all one. Go to Arishok! Of course the Arishok not extradited the elves. And because of this fucking book he launched a war against the city. We ran toward the Hightown. Along the way, joined Anders and Fenris. Anders was worried about me. Sweet Maker, how I love him and how I will ... if we will survive this mess! Everywhere, everione fight. Corpses lying on the streets. A qunari mage almost killed me. A high ranked Templar saved me, a woman. Knigh Commander Meredith. I should be grateful... Fortunately, there is no time to show my "gratitude". Mages. The First Enchanter. Bethany! I'm so glad to see her, that I'm able to say only a stupid joke about the family reunification...
We need to get to the palace, but the qunari swarming everywhere! We must to distract them. The First Enchanter offers his help. His fireballs removed the guards from the entrance. Good. We got in. Here were also a mess. The Arishok beheaded the Baron. He spotted us. The Arishok willing to negotiate with me. Because of the book they have been here for many years. But Isabela took the book away. Deadlock. The door swings open. Spectacular entree, Isabela! Isabela? What the... happened? She brought back the book. The Arishok is happy, everyone can go home! As I imagined... But he wants Isabela as well. NO! Then he want to duel. Okay, let's dance! Fucking strong the bastard! But not impossible. I hope if he die, the qunari will go away, and we live happily ever after ... Worse than this would not possible ever! This thought gave me the strength.
To be continued... And a portrait:
(@domi This is full of grammatical error. I know, my english is terrible, but I try my best.)
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Post by Catilina on Feb 27, 2017 18:34:33 GMT
adrianbc I liked Varric's, and Anders + Morrigan/Ser Pounce-a-Lot' story idea (I have Surana with Morrigan, and he followed her and his old god son – was interesting to see, that Morrigan use the ring), and I can't criticize the grammar and the style, sadly. When you wrote Anders' story? After or before DA2? @domi (Theron was the default Mahariel name, if I remember correctly)
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Post by Deleted on Feb 27, 2017 18:46:45 GMT
Heh, sorry, I did not mean to come across as grammar obsessed person. I wish I could get it right, but I know I never will, so I know how much of a struggle it is. But writing does improve the fluency, so there is that....
That's actually nicely condensed story, and conveys an overwhelmed Hawke well. I guess that's your playthrough with your Hawke devout to Anders?
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Post by adrianbc on Feb 27, 2017 19:06:04 GMT
adrianbc I liked Varric's, and Anders + Morrigan/Ser Pounce-a-Lot' story idea (I have Surana with Morrigan, and he followed her and his old god son – was interesting to see, that Morrigan use the ring), and I can't criticize the grammar and the style, sadly. When you wrote Anders' story? After or before DA2? @domi (Theron was the default Mahariel name, if I remember correctly) I wrote the first version of "The Cat Gambit" more than two years ago, before Christmas, for an online friend who was ill, to cheer her up. She played many times all three DA games and liked Anders as a character in both Awakening and DA2. And she wrote some fanfic about Anders. So I made her a surprise with a short funny story about who really Ser Pounce-a-lot was, including some nice discussion about the Fade, spirits and magic in Thedas. It worked, and she felt better. So it was written after DA:I came out, not just DA2. I imagined this story as some sort of a start for a new life in case of Anders. Anders in Awakening is apparently just a cheerful young mage, without a care in the world, but who carry with him some deep scars from the time he spent in the Circle. As far as I know, he had a happy childhood until being sent to the Calenhad Tower. Quite the opposite story compared to Wynne, who was perhaps happy the first time of her life when she found herself among mages. I wrote the story as an alternative view about how Anders started to care about magic and mages first (by talking with Morrigan), then about his life as mage. Listening to Morrigan, he started to think more about what he can do, not just about how much fun he can have in his spare time. After he lost Ser Pounce-a-lot / Morrigan as a discussion partner about magic, he started talking with Justice and ended up as his friend. The rest is known for us from DA2.
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Post by Catilina on Feb 27, 2017 19:12:33 GMT
Heh, sorry, I did not mean to come across as grammar obsessed person. I wish I could get it right, but I know I never will, so I know how much of a struggle it is. But writing does improve the fluency, so there is that.... That's actually nicely condensed story, and conveys an overwhelmed Hawke well. I guess that's your playthrough with your Hawke devout to Anders? Yes, from the first moment. and yes, he mostly used blue answers with him, the others used purple, because this is the best to compensate/break his seriousness and worries. Georg, the mage was Anders' jerk buddy-lover who also love him, but saw his flaws and weakness, Reinhardt was absolutely devout toward him. This both was sarcastic-agressive, just on another way. Reinhardt was more patient and friendly toward his friends (friendship with Fenris, Merrill), and impatient with others, Georg was more impatient with the companions (rivalry with Fenris, and moderate friendship with Merrill, and almost lost Isabela), and more stoic-sarcastic with the others. Georg a troll, but more restrained to show his emotions, Reinhardt a hotheaded, kind, somewhat disillusioned guy, but passionate in love. This two was my best Hawkes with Anders. Oh, dont worries, on my native language I'm a real grammar-nazi, the worst kind...
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Post by Catilina on Feb 27, 2017 19:32:04 GMT
adrianbc I liked Varric's, and Anders + Morrigan/Ser Pounce-a-Lot' story idea (I have Surana with Morrigan, and he followed her and his old god son – was interesting to see, that Morrigan use the ring), and I can't criticize the grammar and the style, sadly. When you wrote Anders' story? After or before DA2? @domi (Theron was the default Mahariel name, if I remember correctly) I wrote the first version of "The Cat Gambit" more than two years ago, before Christmas, for an online friend who was ill, to cheer her up. She played many times all three DA games and liked Anders as a character in both Awakening and DA2. And she wrote some fanfic about Anders. So I made her a surprise with a short funny story who really was Ser Pounce-a-lot, including some nice discussion about the Fade, spirits and magic in Thedas. It worked, and she felt better. So it was written after DA:I came out, not just DA2. I imagined this story as some sort of a start for a new life in case of Anders. Anders in Awakening is apparently just a cheerful young mage, without a care in the world, but who carry with him some deep scars from the time he spent in the Circle. As far as I know, he had a happy childhood until being sent to the Calenhad Tower. Quite the opposite story compared to Wynne, who was perhaps happy the first time of her life when she found herself among mages. I wrote the story as an alternative view about how Anders started to care about magic and mages first (by talking with Morrigan), then about his life as mage. Listening to Morrigan, he started to think more about what he can do, not just about how much fun he can have in his spare time. After he lost Ser Pounce-a-lot / Morrigan as a discussion partner about magic, he started talking with Justice and ended up as his friend. The rest is known for us from DA2. Yes, Anders was a happy, popular guy in his home village, before he set fire to the barn (~12 years old), and the Templars arrested him. His father also loathed him, after that turned out that he's is a mage. Wynne was an orphan, if I remember correctly, and everyone despised her before the Templars arrested her.
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Post by adrianbc on Feb 27, 2017 20:06:20 GMT
Yes, Anders was a happy, popular guy in his home village, before he set fire to the barn (~12 years old), and arrested him. His father also loathed him, after that turned out that he's is a mage. Wynne was an orphan, if I remember correctly, and everyone despised her before the Templars arrested her. Exactly! I remember their backgrounds in a similar way. This is the key difference between them before the Circle that put them on different paths. Their teachers also counted a lot, but Anders was quite happy with his former life, and probably felt brutally cut-off from it. Wynne`s former life was more like a nightmare, and the Circle was her first real home - a place to belong. While Wynne blossomed in the Circle and tried to learn as much as possible, Anders spent most of his time either planning his next escape or in solitary confinement after being caught. He probably kind of forced himself to learn magic instead of enjoying it. So I imagined the encounter with Morrigan as some sort of starting point for a different view about magic and life for Anders. Morrigan is narcissistic and quite often she sound like very confident (even when she`s wrong), but she is capable of describing things in an interesting way. I was just playing with these ideas, really.
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Post by Catilina on Feb 27, 2017 20:34:50 GMT
Yes, Anders was a happy, popular guy in his home village, before he set fire to the barn (~12 years old), and arrested him. His father also loathed him, after that turned out that he's is a mage. Wynne was an orphan, if I remember correctly, and everyone despised her before the Templars arrested her. Exactly! I remember their backgrounds in a similar way. This is the key difference between them before the Circle that put them on different paths. Their teachers also counted a lot, but Anders was quite happy with his former life, and probably felt brutally cut-off from it. Wynne`s former life was more like a nightmare, and the Circle was her first real home - a place to belong. While Wynne blossomed in the Circle and tried to learn as much as possible, Anders spent most of his time either planning his next escape or in solitary confinement after being caught. He probably kind of forced himself to learn magic instead of enjoying it. So I imagined the encounter with Morrigan as some sort of starting point for a different view about magic and life for Anders. Morrigan is narcissistic and quite often she sound like very confident (even when she`s wrong), but she is capable of describing things in an interesting way. I was just playing with these ideas, really. I never felt that Anders hate what he is, or would blame his magic, in fact some stubborn pride has always exuded (perhaps this is Karl's effect on him ["he was the first"] or just he got enough confidence in his childhood, so he was no capable to self hatred), rather he despised the people who treated him as a cursed. He was strong mage (remember to Vigil's Keep), who hate his own talent, I think do not capable use that so good as Anders. Remember what he said to Bethany about the Circles' teaching/training system: Anders: Where did you learn your magic? I mean, you know my feelings on the Circle, but usually it's the only decent training a mage can get. Bethany: My father taught me. He was in the Circle once, trained there. But he got away. Anders: You don't know how lucky you were, to have someone who loved you and could help you. Most mages would kill for that. Bethany: You remind me of him. So: I think he don't needed to force himself to learn, he rather want to learn everything, what the Circle was able to teach to him. Not for the Circle, for himself. Yes, he wanted to be free, and a thousand times tried to escape, but not from the learning, just from the jail. As I see, when he was inside (and he don't tryed to escape, as long as he was together with Karl), he probably tried his best in learning.
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Post by Obsidian Gryphon on Feb 27, 2017 23:41:35 GMT
This is a DAI PT snippet for a human female warrior; Alaryn, written and posted in Aug 2016. I wrote several so more will be popping up.
*
Skyhold
Alaryn watched the new recruits marched through the front gates, coming to a stop at a barked order from sergeant Bogarth. Her eyes sharpened at two languidly strolling young men, boys really with that lanky height and awkwardness, lagging behind. Bogarth spared them not a glance as he split up the recruits with their partners. By the time the two laggards reached him, the rest had already armed themselves and in the practice rings.
"I found a new trainer for you," he said to them without preamble as Alaryn went to stand by him, her left hand held tightly closed behind her back.
The two boys looked at her. Two fingers shorter than them, lean, broad shoulders, tan from the sun, scar on the eyebrow, dressed in a plain grey tunic, trews and dusty boots. Just another soldier.
"Well, are you going to keep standing there?" Bogarth barked. They looked at each other, one had blond hair, the other had dark hair. Close in age to each other, she guessed. They shrugged and went over to the armor racks to put on helmets, chest, shin and arm guards. They grabbed shields and practice swords from the weapons racks.
"How'd you want it, sir?" She played by the book for the benefit of ears nearby, lightly tapping the practise sword she was holding against her leg.
Bogarth twitched but he said blandly, "Any way you see fit." He raised his voice as the two returned. "It'll be two on one."
They looked startled, then smirks appeared. The soldier thought she could take them on, said their expressions. They'd show her. They stepped grandly into the practise ring, expecting the usual formalities, salutes and such. Poor fools. Bandits and demons wait for no polite formalities. She laid into them before they knew what was happening. A blow to a loosely held shield struck passed to the arm brought a sharp exclamation from the blond. She rammed into the shield of dark hair, driving him back several steps. She was back on the other just as he stepped forward to slash at her. Too slow. She was past his guard, rapping his ribs hard before she shoved him from behind. He stumbled into his partner's path, spoiling his attempt to rush at her, and fell. She slashed low at the off-balanced dark hair, swiping him off his feet.
The other trainees stopped to watch, open-mouth. Soldiers patrolling the ramparts looked down grinning as Alaryn chased the two fellows around the ring. The two were so uncoordinated they couldn't watch out for each other. All they did was get in each other's way, suffering ringing knocks to their helms, bruising blows to arms and legs. Their breath came in bellows, a stark contrast to Alaryn who was breathing evenly. Eventually, they came to a dead halt, panting as if they were running for many candle marks. Alaryn could see their hands trembling with fatigue, legs buckling, shields and swords almost dropping from their grasp. Sweat streamed down their faces while she herself only looked as cool as when the exercise first started. Shock and bewilderment was etched into their faces.
Bogarth couldn't hide the satisfaction in his eyes. He stepped into the ring. "That my lads, is what you will face on a battlefield. Seasoned warriors who are in fighting trim." He turned and bowed to Alaryn. "Thank you, your Worship."
Alaryn stuffed down the giggle at the stun looks on her erstwhile sparring partners' faces. "I hope they will apply themselves industriously to their lessons. The Inquisition need capable warriors," she said.
"I am certain they will."
Bogarth bowed before telling the two to walk until they were told to stop. Alaryn returned her practise sword to the weapons rack, hearing Bogarth's roar to the rest to pick up their pace. Out of the corner of her eye, the two young men stumbled slowly around the ring to cool off, their gaze fixed disbelievingly on her. Josephine was waiting for her on the steps into the Keep. "A fine display," she said when Alaryn reached her. "Prudent of you to hide your hand."
"I hope that knocks some sense into them," said Alaryn, nodding in acknowledgement to the bows and salutes sent her way as they walked to Josephine's chamber. "If not, we can do without the surfeit of highborn youngsters who should have applied themselves to a calling, like the Chantry, the Templars, the regular army, mercenaries, instead of puffing up their chests here."
"But fighting in the army of the Herald is presently the highest calling they can aspire to. They wouldn't do any less."
Alaryn sighed as she dropped into one of the armchairs before the hearth in Josephine's chamber. "That army will be disbanded soon if I have anything to say about it. Are there any more reports on undiscovered Rifts?" she asked, switching subject.
"Some." Josephine eyed Alaryn sympathetically when she groaned and decided not to bring up the subject of petitions. "Leliana's scouts are currently tracking them down."
"Is there something else you want to tell me?"
Taking a scroll from her table, Josephine handed it to Alaryn. "I believe you will find this interesting. It's a letter from a professor Kenric from the University of Orleis. He has been investigating Orelsian history pertaining to Emperor Drakon and his association with the Inquisition which was led by Inquisitor Ameridan. He believes there are clues to be found at Frostback Basin."
That caught Alaryn's attention. "Inquisitor Ameridan?" She read the letter. "Inquisitor Ameridan disappeared just before the Second Blight and it's said he went to Frostback Basin but no one knew why. Was he sent there or did he leave the alliance with Emperor Drakon?"
"No one knows. If you wish, we can send scouts to the region. If the first Inquisitor was there, perhaps they would find something."
"Do it. Let me know if they find anything."
"Of course, your Worship."
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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 Feb 27, 2017 23:54:40 GMT
Part II. Inquisitor Alaryn (posted Aug 2016)
Despite Dorian's apprehension and the jest Varric pulled on him, the fish stew was good. The potatoes and carrots might have shriveled a little but the broth softened them out. Too bad there weren't any tomatoes, she was used to that faint taste of sourness in the fish stews served at home. Still, the chunks of meat was sweet and tender. Sopping up the last of the sauce in her bowl with her bread, Alaryn finished the last bite as she walked to the stream. Dipping her spoon and bowl into the cold water, she washed them thoroughly. She whirled at the soft whisper of air behind her and relaxed when she saw it was Cole.
The spirit pointed towards a clump of trees some distance away from the campfire. "She comes, seeking the comfort of old."
"Who comes?"
"Voices, demanding, pulling, wishes not her own. Walls all around. Her belt is empty, her strong arm is light. She is not happy."
"What?" Alaryn frowned. Another whisper of air and Cole vanished. Typical. She stood up and peered towards the trees. The scouts wouldn't have allowed anyone to approach that near if they didn't know who it was. Putting away her spoon in her pouch, she headed towards the trees. Cole had said she. Who would it be?
She could make out the figure, half hidden in shadows. Definitely a woman. Armed. Familiar. The stranger's gait pulled at her memory. She frowned and then it snapped together as the figure came nearer.
"Cassandra?" she said in astonishment. "What're you doing here in Frostback Basin? Shouldn't you be running the Chantry?"
"I'm running away," Cass said with a wince. "For a while."
"Running away?" Alaryn blinked bemusedly at her. "You're alone?"
"I doubt anyone would come with me," Cass said dryly.
"Did you tell anyone where you are?"
Cass shrugged. "I left them a note," she said.
"A note?" Alaryn said in disbelief. "Cass, can you imagine the uproar when they find the Divine is missing?"
"It's not coming here any time soon. I wrote that I went to Skyhold."
"Josephine would love that. You didn't warn her, did you?" Alaryn heaved a sigh when Cass only shrugged. She eyed the Seeker, who was outfitted in her usual armor and equipment, as Cole's words came to her. "Are you hungry? We have fish stew."
A smile lit up the Seeker's face. "I haven't have that for a long time."
"Come on, the others will be glad to see you." Alaryn flung an arm around Cass's shoulders and led her to the campfire.
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