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Not Without A Fight: Part One.
Fenris gave a low, long sigh. He couldn't believe he was doing this. For what felt like the millionth time, he questioned what he was doing here.
It was a clear, crisp afternoon. The sun was warm & golden, though it was slung low in the sky & the shadows stretching beneath it where long & dark. There was a light, cold breeze rising from the ocean & causing nearby trees to sway restlessly.
The dark skinned elf shivered a little. He could feel his heart hammering underneath his leather breastplate & although he was a little cold, his palms were sticky with sweat.
He was at the top of a hill, sat on a stone bench outside a fairly large estate. From his position, he could see the road that led to the manor's front entranceway perfectly, aswell as take in a rather splendid view of Hightown below him.
For an hour, Fenris had stood up, paced back & forth a few times, made to travel back down the hill, then changed his mind & resumed his position on the bench. Waiting for her was torture. & If
All That RemainsAnders stood before the door to Hawke's bedchamber, hesitating. She had sought refuge there upon their return from that cave below Lowtown, hurriedly discarding pack and staff in the main hall before clambering up the stairs and slamming the door shut behind her. He still wasn't sure if the gesture meant she didn't want to be disturbed or if it had only been a product of the unbearable grief she must be experiencing.
Well, worst case is she'll just kick me out. The thought wasn't appealing. Still, he turned the knob and entered.
Hawke had hastily discarded her robes which lay before the great bed, a sight which normally would have set him aflame. Focus, Anders. He was, after all, just a man.
At first, she was nowhere to be found, but then he spotted a head of jet black hair. She was sitting on the floor, propped up against the bed and staring into the fireplace. Without a word, he rounded the bed's corner and sat gingerly beside her. When she still didn't speak, motio
A Simple Task, part 6
***Contains naughty language, mild violence, and sexual themes***
Isabela came by the next day to ask for a favor. "Please come to the docks with me? I have to check on some cargo and I don't want to go alone. I don't think these fools will try anything, but backup should discourage them." "Fine," Fenris told her. He couldn't imagine she really needed any help. Isabela could handle herself, but he didn't want to say no. Besides, he had an errand at the docks as well. There were a few ships in from Tevinter and any one of them could be carrying a reply to his carefully worded inquiries about his sister. He'd intended to ask Hawke along, but it might be easier to go with Isabela. She didn't ask for much, didn't care what he might be working on. She smiled suggestively at him as he strapped on his armor, "I was hoping you'd say yes. I haven't seen much of you
Sign of the Maker part five
Sign of the Maker part five
"The thing is, Sebastian. Your word as the rightful Prince of Starkhaven would be worth more to me right now than that of a priest."
Sebastian Vael's heart seemed to pause its rhythm as he heard those words. That they were being uttered by the unlikely man sat opposite him, whose regal features suddenly seemed in stark contrast to the bawdy atmosphere of the Hanged Man inn around them, it just
His mind reeled. If he was honest with himself, and he rarely was, these were words he'd longed to hear, weren't they? He had wished for someone to take this heart-wrenching decision away from him. He had hoped selfishly for a release from the burden of choice. When Hawke had appeared in his life, not asking too many questions, selflessly supporting the Prince's right to remain in the chantry and not take up arms and face his inheritance, Sebastian had felt a surge of relief. However, as time went on and as he saw the paths of his companions unwind around him, th
ReflectionsVal's pursuit led him to the foul beast's domain. The hollowed-out cavern reeked of blood and rancid meat. The dim light he had seen as he charged through the tunnel after the monster could now be identified: torches. Rows of mysteriously lit torches lined the walls of the huge cave. At its center was a substantially large labyrinth of mirrors.
He spotted the beast entering.
He spun his silver broadsword in his hand and hurried in behind it.
His garb was a simple blue and white crusader's leather with thick armored pads and reinforcing steel studs. Lightweight and flexible, but quite effective defense against blunt blows and – in a pinch – the slashing claws of the unholy spawn of the earth. All monster-hunters wore a similar variety in Val's experience. It would serve him well in these close quarters of the mirrored maze.
Right, left, forward, left, right he turned, always catching a glimpse of the beast's tail as he wove his way through the corridors. Every so often he sp
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