The Story Goes On

Morning! Whew, this month has turned into a busy one, and is only getting busier the closer I get to the end of it. It’s all good, positive things, but busy busy. Today’s continuation of my RP play-through of Dragon Age 2 will be kind of short, as I’ve got things I want to take care of this morning before I put them off more! Professional procrastinator, at your service!  /bows

Also, by the time I finish Act 1 of this, Inquisition will be out and I’ll be playing through that, but I might continue this anyways. It’s fun, and interesting putting it all into words, instead of just ‘I did this then did that’. It’s fun applying it to the character, trying to figure out their back story in addition the back story the game provides for you. It’s also a little challenging, I’m realizing, playing and writing from the perspective of a male. I’m kind of worried his emotions and feelings might come off more feminine than I’m intending. Oh well. He is what he is ^.^ Shall we?


It was a complicated dance of riddles and knowing looks, this conversation we were having with this woman.  I felt like an utter ass for not understanding half of what this being was saying to me.  This creature could only be a mage, although it astounded me the power that she carried with her.  To be able to change form at all was something that I thought was a lost art entirely, or for only the most powerful mages, let alone to transform into a dragon? Unless she really was a dragon.. I quickly drew my mind back into the present, as I realized she was asking us a question. She wanted to know where we thought we would go, as the darkspawn were everywhere. Carver spoke up, saying we would go to Kirkwall, even though I could see the fear in his eyes as he addressed her directly.

She said she could take us there, in exchange for a favor. A small favor, but since we wanted to go to Kirkwall, it was something she needed done that we could do as payment, since it was obvious we not only had no coin, but that she put little value in the stuff. Before we departed (On the back of a dragon? Would she carry us in her claws?) she said we had one uncomfortable task we had to take care of. At these words, Aveline’s face drew tight with anger, and she stretched an arm over the prone figure of her husband, who’s breaths had become more ragged and irregular the whole time this Witch of the Wilds, as Aveline had called her, and I had been talking.  The Templar, whose name I’m sure Aveline had told us, and I realized I hadn’t even tried to remember, had a look of final absolution in his eyes as a tear fell down his cheek.

We all gathered around him, I fell to one knee at his side, opposite of Aveline, who had a very stubborn set to her jaw that kind of scared me. I hadn’t known her long, but I didn’t figure her for a romantic type, so she knew what she had to do. She looked down at her husband, as the Witch of the Wilds spoke over our shoulders, saying that he had the darkspawn taint running through his blood, that the only cure was to become a Grey Warden. She casually mentioned they hadn’t all died at Ostagar, a fact that I ironically looked back at later, but that they were beyond our reach. His raspy voice barely above a whisper, her husband begged Aveline to end it for him. He was afraid, he didn’t want to suffer the long, slow, painful death. She turned to me, a question in her eyes, and I was stunned she even would ask it of me, we had known each other only an hour or so. I told her he was her husband, it was up to her. She bit her lip, I could see she was trying so hard to be strong, stoic, for him if for no-one else. He drew the dagger from his belt and placed the tip of it over his heart, between links in his armor. I could see how much even that small movement cost him. He sighed, almost gratefully, as she pushed the dagger home.

I felt no sorrow for him as the Templar took his last gasping breath. I did feel sorrow for Aveline, her husband being taken away from her too soon. I could see the despair in her eyes, and empathized with her. At least I still had my mother and brother left, she now had no-one as far as I knew.  We had to move on, however. The darkspawn would soon be upon us, we quickly buried Bethany and the Templar under rock cairns. Bethany would have scolded me for burying her next to a Templar, her final resting place next to one whom she had spent her whole life, our whole lives, running from.

How we actually got to Gwaren, where we took ship to Kirkwall, I honestly could not recall.  No doubt a spell, or that we were all so fogged with grief we didn’t care to remember. Nonetheless, the Witch took care of her end of the bargain, so now it was up to me to fulfill the rest. We boarded a ship, along with a great many people, and set sail, the captain muttering blackly about carrying more piss-poor refugees. We quietly found a spot down in the hold, and tried to make the best of the upcoming journey.


Hope everyone has a great Wednesday!


One thought on “The Story Goes On

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s