A/N: I never read any story involving Pick, a minor character you can take a sword from by lying to him while in Ostagar in DAO. I wondered what he thought about his lot in life and how he would act in sertain situations and so I created this...
The Story of Pick.
Chapter One.
Growing up in the Alianage has no hope for betterment among the elven people. We are born in filth, huddling up in ramshakled houses made of mud and wood and hay. we grow up in squalor, learning little of what it's like to be an elf, learning that even though we are indeed free, we still must become servent to the shemlins in order to survive. Our women are under constant threat of rape, our elders beg on the streets, hopeing for a scant few gold supplied by even fewer kind humans. Our men are not alowed to even carry a weapon to defend their loved ones, and even if we could, no one would train us to do so.
I was born in the alienage in Denerim, but my family gave me into the services of the King as a messanger. I grew in my position quickly, for the shem who was my mentor had little patience when it came to elves and was very libral with his use of the switch. I knew how to act around my 'betters', keeping myself humble in aperance. On the outside, I had achieved the look of a docile and eager servent.
But on the inside burned an anger hotter than mage fire. I yerned for justice, for the shem to pay for keeping my people in the alienage like caged beast. Although I felt such bitterness, I had no way to act on it. As I said before, the common city elf has no prior training in combat, I'd be damn usless if I needed, for any reason, to pick up a blade.
What I lacked in combat training I made up for in the gathering of knowlage. As i grew to be a trusted errant boy, I came to notice that I was practicaly invisible when the lords and nobles had no use for me. They would often speak on inportant topics that would cause the public to rise and riot: Plans to raise taxes, plots to assasinate heads of very important industries, and gossip that included Rendon Howe and a dwarf male prostitute that I hoped, for his sake, was false. Soon I came to know the commings ang goings of every notable figure that came into castle Drakon.
Imagine, if you would, my surprise when my mentore came to me with unexpected news.
I was in the servent quarters of the Arls' estate, washing up after delivering a parcle containing gloves made out of the finest Antivan leather to the Lady Adelle, when the large, harry bear of a mentor came rushing into the room.
"You there, elf...Puck!" He strained to gain his breath, leaning against the wall.
"It's Pick sir," I calmly corrected him, seathing slightly at the fact that I have been working for him over four years now, and he could have the slightest amount of respect to know my name.
"Don't speak to me that way, you bloody knife-ear, I'll call you whatever I see fit."He spat, I flinched and moved a few feet away from him, his breath reeked of ale.
I swalowed my fury, "Yes sir, How may I assist you?"
"The King is in need of elf laborers at Ostagar, I sent a few elven wenches for the men," he let the sentence linger and eyed me, gauging my reaction. I balled my fist but said nothing to him, "And we need a few messangers on hand. Maker forbid they talk to one another before battle."
My heart hammered in my chest. "You need me to go to Ostagar?"
He sneered at me, "Smart for an elf, arn't yeh? Aye you and some others are headed off there tomorow, so let me get a few things straight with you: Don't disobey your betters, don't make me look bad by messin up yer job and don't you dare try and escape. I'd hate to put you down like an old horse."
He left me with my thoughts, shouting a few last minute commands at me before sloutching off to the castle.
I leaned on the stone wall and tried to absorb the news. The King sent his men to the old ruin of Ostagar just a few days ago, along with a few servents both human and elf. Some of my fellow mesangers went along with the troops, so why did I have to go?
If the King was anything like lord Vaughn, the Arl's son, I would refuse outright. It was no secret that Vaughn liked elven flesh, and many a young maid dissapeared from the streets of Denerim only to end up beaten to death and left to rot.
King Calen was one human I respected . He is very good to my people, trying to provide well-paying jobs and shelters in the market district. He tried to take a stand for elven rights, earning a reputation as a hero in the eyes of many elfs. I felt it was my duty to serve his army, even if it was somthing as small as delevering messages.
After I'm done with my work here, I think I'll pack a bag. Soon I'll be leaving the walls of Denerim on an adventure of my very own.
