As promised, Oghren shows up in this chapter with a speaking role at long last, along with Dog and Shale! Sten fans might have to wait a little further, but he will definitely be making an appearance; it just depends on how well I can incorporate him into the future chapters as the straight man on the whole party.
Oh, and just so people don't forget, the OTP of this fic remains undecided, so feel free to offer your input regarding who should get the girl in the end. So far, we have two votes for Teagan, one sort-of vote for Zevran and very little love for Alistair. As this is an experimental fic, there is still room open for decisions – it's a write as you go process, so to speak.
I hope I got Shale right, because my lousy internet connection refuses to allow me to download the DLC, but that should get fixed soon. Please let me know if the character is correctly portrayed.
Anyway, onto the action!
Chapter four: Oghren and his arch-nemesis lay down their weapons for a while to discuss the situation and Alistair finally gets a hint… or not.
o.O.o
Betting on Ever After
o.O.o
Shale hardly claimed to understand organic behavior, even after years upon years of forced observation.
The decision to allow their group to remain inside the stone fortress while the fleshy companions got the rest their easily-tiring bodies apparently needed so came with many perks. For one thing, it appeared that no birds were allowed inside the fortress, which was wonderful. For another, Shale was allowed to go wherever she wished, without having to bear their company when she didn't want it – which turned out to be most of the time. After all, solitude and peace at the same time seemed like an unreal fantasy after all that pent-up anger at being forced to watch without any chance of crushing their puny skulls when back in that accursed village.
Whenever she needed something from their leader, she would go to the library, because the enchantress was most likely to be found there, with a pile of books at its feet, smiling as if it had just managed to find the mother of all pigeons and was getting ready to crush it with its newly-pointy-heeled footwear. Today as well, on the third day of their stay in the Red Village, it was there when Shale passed it, but this time accompanied by another and not appearing so entirely happy.
It was with the hound noble, its face arranged warily, as if the enchantress wasn't certain whether to remain courteous or raise its hands to summon fire and ice. But it seemed to have no need of a companion in arms as of yet, because its motions weren't entirely rigid and it appeared that it wasn't about to be attacked.
"We have only a few maps of the area that you intend to explore." They were going over old tomes together, with many maps of the Brecillian Forest laid out on the tables in front of them. "In addition, the forest is known for its tendency to change over time. I cannot say we will be of much help with this."
"You're helping greatly as it is." The enchantress flipped through the pages of a heavy book as if it were nothing, with more strength than its frail frame would suggest. "I think there's something more over there, look, it references this book here."
And, it turned out that they weren't entirely alone, because the clown knight showed up with yet another pile of books. Like the enchantress, it had forsaken its combat attire of metal for looser clothing, at least for the occasion, and came towards them carrying another stack of books.
"I'll go get it for you." Shale was reminded of a dog, really, by this eagerness it displayed whenever the enchantress had any sort of request to fulfill. "It should be in the cartography section, right?"
"Thank you, yes."
And the clown knight dashed off to fetch its bone with the reckless abandon of a puppy, its happiness practically streaming off it in waves.
In the meantime, the enchantress and the hound noble continued their search, their hands occasionally brushing against one another as they traced the map; the enchantress always seemed to react like a bird sensing that it was about to be hit by a nasty shock spell. Nevertheless, they managed to get along.
"The Dalish clans are unlikely to stay in one place for long. You will have trouble locating even one of them, especially with few locals to tell you where their caravans might have passed through."
The enchantress slipped on the mask of the Warden, grim and full of determination. At times, there was almost the trace of a golem's strength in it. "We have to try nonetheless. All the allies we can get are necessary. What is it?" it asked after a brief pause, glancing at the hound noble quizzically.
"Nothing, really." A ridiculous answer, Shale thought privately. Organics that were rather sane rarely smiled so for no reason at all. Especially at an organic of the opposite gender who was within the stage of its life when reproduction was possible. "You are entirely devoted to a cause you didn't have a choice about selecting for yourself. It is something to be admired."
"I hardly think of it that way." But the enchantress appeared receptive to these gestures, its breathing a little shallower than usual. Nothing another organic would notice, though. "It's my duty and calling – I could hardly refuse, even if I wanted to."
"Nimue, if I may… have you given some thought to my request?" The enchantress reacted to the soft mention of its name, tension spreading through its limbs. "I have no wish to rush your decision, but… I confess to a little anxiety. If you are simply seeking the best way of politely rejecting, you can tell me so freely. I promise not to be too crushed."
Lies, Shale concluded. No organic would be pleased if its incentive towards a mating ritual was rejected.
But the enchantress shook its head with a hint of franticness, its hair slipping out of the flimsy clasp only a magpie might have interest in – another article of clothing courtesy of the shrieking woman, no doubt.
"No, no, no, that isn't the case at all. I am considering it, that I can promise." It gave a mild smile it usually reserved for tired amusement over the antics of the less mentally stable ones in its entourage. "I am also still recovering from the shock of it, mind you."
But the hound noble seemed appeased and – with subtlety that Shale thought impossible for organics – drew a little closer to the enchantress, who didn't notice. "It couldn't have come as that great a surprise. Surely you don't believe that being able to cast a few spells will deter every man."
But before the enchantress could realize their proximity, the clown knight came running back with yet another book thick as a brick, apparently grinning in triumph at its own cleverness and craftiness.
"Got it!" it proclaimed, triumphantly laying it down on the table. But it wasn't entirely as oblivious as it made itself out to be, because it saw the slow smile of the hound noble and the downcast eyes of the enchantress. "Hey, what are you two whispering about there? You're talking about me, aren't you?" Of course, the fact that it was mostly as oblivious as it made itself out to be helped. "Leliana has corrupted you after all!"
And the enchantress knew just how to make use of that fact, laughing a little. "Oh, yes. Bann Teagan has been telling me all sorts of embarrassing childhood stories about you. I only wish there were pictures, but I imagine that would have required having you stand still for a while."
The clown knight bought it without a second thought, actually blanching at the idea. Apparently, these stories were indeed real and highly interesting.
"You… you don't mean that, right? I mean, you didn't tell her those things, right?" it asked, turning to the hound noble, whose eyes reflected either mischief or amusement. Possibly understanding and pride at the enchantress' craftiness and quick thinking. "Right? Because I can tell her about the things you did as a teenager, you know." it threatened weakly when it received no answer. "Arl Eamon would always use you as an example of what not to do when I grow up."
This caught the enchantress' attention, because it raised its eyebrows and glanced at the older human pointedly. "Really?"
"He's simply trying to save face now, Nimue; his caretakers could tell stories about his usage of this trick." The hound noble knew how to play too, apparently.
The clown knight paused just a little before recovering and retaliating; the usage of the enchantress' name seemed to have caught it by surprise, but it was determined not to back down so easily.
"Oh, really? Well, you aren't entirely perfect yourself, otherwise you wouldn't be living a bachelor lifestyle any longer! Arl Eamon would always go on about how having a wife would tame him, you know." it added with a grin at last to the keenly-listening enchantress. "He thinks he's this romantic hero, though, and always rejects all the ladies vying for his attention. Whenever there was a visit from another noble family, none of the daughters would be good enough for him. Arl Eamon almost had a fit at the antics a few of them got into."
"Now that is harsh indeed. Could you blame me for making myself scarce, with the number of cats the lady had?" Cats were actually agreeable felines, as they were natural predators towards the viler kind of birds, Shale supposed. "In any case, my brother might yet be appeased."
The enchantress looked down at the map as the hound noble said this, even though they both had the sense not to look at each other. Fortunately for them, this meant that the clown knight was left without any obvious hint as to the potential subtext behind those words and merely crossed its arms challengingly.
"That I'd like to see."
"This is where we should start." the enchantress said before this conversation could continue, pointing to a spot on the map in front of them. If that wasn't enough to silence the others, then the fact that she was leaning forward somewhat and the attire she was wearing had apparently been designed to reveal part of its mammary glands to inform potential suitors that it was indeed female worked admirably on the clown knight. Shale was rather certain that it would have stuttered greatly if it had spoken. Its head seemed near exploding, anyway. "Is there a map of the path around the clearing somewhere around here?"
The hound noble, at least, seemed to have a little dignity… or not the correct angle to observe the effect of the dress properly, which meant that it was still capable of speech. "Yes, it should be on one of the upper shelves. Alistair and I can get a ladder."
"There is no need for that; just direct me."
Before any queries to that could be posed, the enchantress straightened up, raised its arms and called upon its magic. After a few moments, all that was left of it was a swarm of insects, which proceeded to fly upwards towards the shelf in question and search for the book. The hound noble appeared thoroughly impressed and the clown knight was recovering from its heart condition – for the moment.
What Shale was most glad for was that the enchantress never seemed to choose a bird's form when flying. The small mercies in life were grand.
As this no longer seemed of any interest, Shale decided to go see if there was a storage of precious metals nearby. The fortress seemed well-crafted and properly stocked, in any case.
Several rooms away from that, the dwarf was arguing loudly with the dog, of all creatures. Shale could understand the match – after all, on an intelligence level, they were almost matched, since the hound possessed near-human intelligence even at the worst of times and the dwarf possessed the same whenever not intoxicated by the vile liquids it continued to digest without any regret or hesitation – but it was still somewhat peculiar when the subject of the debate reached her ears.
She had gotten used to the fact that the dog was capable of surprisingly eloquent non-verbal communication with its features and whines, but always wondered how the dwarf always managed to create such inventive interpretations of the aforementioned gestures.
"No, you're not getting extra food! I'm onto you, you manipulative mongrel." The dwarf was almost growling, but it wasn't entirely certain if he was intoxicated or not; it wasn't slurring its words as usual, which was an obvious improvement to its diction, but that wasn't saying much. It was an excellent actor when it came to pretending that it was sober when, in truth, it was drunk enough to kill a horse with that amount of alcohol. "That whining might work on the suckers following Nimue around like walking dead, but I know your act."
Apparently, the dwarf had saved some of its evening meal and the dog was attempting to get some of it through means of persuasion. It had to be desperate indeed if it believed that the dwarf, who considered it its arch-enemy, would relent so easily. Of course, the hound itself was far craftier than one might suspect. For one thing, it could do an innocent whine-like sound that was bound to melt the hearts of the more soft-hearted of the organics in their group, assuming they were in a good mood.
The dwarf, trying to shoo away the animal with its tankard, snorted in a way that would have disgusted anyone with even the slightest table manners.
"Oh sure, right, like you never tried to milk your relationship with her." Her being the enchantress, naturally. Being the centre of their little group, any connection to it was bound to reap rewards from those who wished to get close to it. "I know your type, mutt. You try to make them think the Warden'll be all grateful and friendly-like if they're good to you. The little pike-twirler always falls for it." Again, it made the revolting belch-like sound, its cheeks reddened slightly as it remembered with a shake of its head. "Heh. Like Nim would ever notice. Poor kid didn't get out much, obviously."
Considering that it was common knowledge that the enchantress had only recently been released from its prison – just like Shale herself, really – the golem failed to understand the joke. Perhaps the dwarf ought to be locked in the stone fortress for several decades before it made any other nonsensical jests?
But the dog didn't really try to analyze that part. Instead, it glossed over the rudeness and made another point: the clown knight wasn't the only one attempting to woo the enchantress. There was another, whose intentions were far more obvious for the rest of the world to see. Perhaps the painted elf would have more success?
The dwarf promptly snorted, ale dripping off its wire-like beard.
"What, the elf?" Knowing how guarded the Warden was and how eager to clean anyone's pipes the elf was, Oghren didn't really think there was any chance of that happening, unless they got her very, very drunk. "You think that Miss Prim and Proper would just throw caution to the winds and let him get into her robes? Well, they do say mages are supposed to be pretty open to suggestion, if you know what I mean… but she hasn't yet and he's been suggesting for a while."
Ever since they had almost killed him, really. Nimue had only begun to take it seriously when it had become clear that the constant propositioning wasn't the result of one too many blows to the head and even then she still evaded it with the skill of a rogue.
"And she didn't pull the moves on me, so that just about josses that theory."
Shale privately tried to roll her eyes without too much success. Somehow, she imagined that it was likelier the enchantress would risk death and mate with the qunari – not that it would, because it wouldn't – than choose the why was its mating with any male of such interest to the organics? Granted, there was little else to talk about and it was rare that an organic female in their general vicinity had more than one suitor to turn down, but still. Peculiar.
The dog wisely didn't bother deigning that remark with a response. Certainly, the enchantress wasn't nearly reckless enough to mate with someone who gave it absolutely no guarantees. But then it suggested that perhaps the clown knight would overcome its own inhibitions – which Shale doubted, as it didn't seem that the enchantress had the intention of releasing any pheromones in its direction – and proclaim its love to the elf. Apparently, the dog was convinced that the clown knight was in love with its master and had evidence: the various times it had exploited this infatuation for its own interest.
The dwarf gave a flat look that clearly stated its feelings on the matter.
"Does he even like girls?" it deadpanned. Shale was tempted to agree with the dog, because the painted elf's overtures had gone forcibly ignored and the clown knight's blood always rushed to its head when the enchantress was near. Perhaps one day the great pressure would cause its head to explode. Now that would be amusing. But then, the dwarf snickered. "Guess he does after he couldn't stop drooling over her last night. But if I were in his shoes, I'd have given her a roll already. Or tried to, at least. Sodding tight-assed ancestors, before that, he's never even shown any appreciation for her fine…"
Quickly, the dog barked out that the dwarf really didn't need to go that far, for the good of all creation. Shale was grateful for the interruption.
"Peh, shows what you know about women."
It was quite a lot, in comparison to the dwarf, both Shale and the dog could testify. Especially considering the dwarf's rather peculiar choice of mates.
"It is desperate for reproduction indeed if it requires advice about females of its own species from the dog." The golem entered at long last, because the conversation had been grudgingly interesting, right up to the point when the dwarf had sent it all plummeting to hell.
The dwarf, unfazed, took a more than sufficient bite out of the remainder of its food while the dog whined in vain.
"What? Naw, we're talking about the Warden. Apparently, His Highness and the elf have got serious competition." It seemed highly pleased by its puns tonight. "Ya should have seen the scene they made at dinner. It was almost funnier than when we got Alistair drunk an' he almost danced on a table." the dwarf snickered, relishing in the memory. "'s too bad Nimue wasn't there that night, else she would'ave been embarrassed out of her robes by the time he got to singing."
Shale fortunately remembered no such incident, but the glint in the dwarf's eyes signified that that might soon be remedied, with the dreadfully low alcohol tolerance of the clown knight.
"I do not understand why so many males wish to reproduce with the Grey Warden." the golem confessed finally. She hoped to make sense of these things, after all. The enchantress had all its facial features in the right place, was built accordingly for an elven female of its approximate age and appeared to have no physical defects. However… "From what I have witnessed, the usual preference is for females displaying their squishy flesh bodies more prominently. Does it possess characteristics differentiating from the other females around?"
"Could be that she's a mage. You know, dangerous and all that." the dwarf grinned rather lecherously, but restrained itself before continuing. The enchantress could thank its Maker for not being the object of interest of this one when it was sober, Shale believed. "Elf girls are usually too skinny to have anything to grab onto, but compared to the rest of the women round here…"
The dog woofed to stop the dwarf once again. But then, it remarked that growing up among templars who can't even tell their socks apart has to lower one's expectations regarding women considerably – presumably, it was referring to the clown knight, who obviously had little skill at getting females to appreciate it. And as for the painted elf, the dog added, it didn't seem to want to limit itself to anything, be it age, gender, race or preference. Bar the dwarf, of course, which was entirely understandable.
Shale wondered if it was a sign of their inevitable end that the wisest member of their entourage was a four-legged canine.
The dwarf cringed, as if it was experiencing the aftereffects of its brew.
"Don't even go there, mutt. I still get nightmares cause of his sick sense of humor." it then turned to the golem, squinting a little bit. "What about you? You used to be a woman… eh, I guess. You might have an interesting guess about the situation."
Shale almost shrugged. She didn't require mating or reproduction and the concepts of such were now far from familiar to her. Still, if the phenomenon could be observed from an outsider's point of view, then the logical thing would be to select the strongest candidate. Which was kind of difficult. On the other hand, reproduction wasn't entirely desirable for the enchantress now, seeing as it would severely impede its movement and fighting capacity. If only choosing a mate was in question, though…
"The enchantress seems compatible with the two others you mention." Shale summarized. In the end, they would no doubt press it to choose, so there was no need to be overly concerned about things. "It will make its decision, given time."
"Naw, you don't understand." the dwarf said, grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary – a grin richly deserved, no doubt, given the criminal nature of birds. "The arl's younger brother – eh, Teagan's his name, right?" The dog woofed in assurance. For once, it had remembered the name correctly. "Right - he's been really, really attentive to the kid tonight… and she actually noticed." For some reason, this was making the dwarf almost giddy. "Pricking Paragons, knowing her, that actually counts as being real hot and bothered for the guy."
The dog chimed in that the enchantress also seemed to behave this way once or twice towards the other possible mates.
The dwarf's bushy eyebrows disappeared in its shaggy hair. "What, are you blind as well as ugly? Compared to that, she might as well have been jumping him on the table." it proclaimed, apparently already imagining that scene and relishing in every detail of it.
While the dog persisted, Shale recalled seeing the two organics in the library. The enchantress did seem somewhat uncomfortable and aware that something was amiss… perhaps there was actually some truth to this, despite the dwarf's usual lecherous delusions.
The dog persisted, but the dwarf would have none of it.
"Bah, how'd you know what you're talking about? You could be barking mad. Hah! Barking…"
At the next growl, the dwarf slammed its half-empty tankard on the table with enough force to send the liquid flying around. Shale was highly grateful that she knew the creature well enough to stay out of its reach and aim.
"You're on, you flee-ridden nug-licker! Three roast beef dinners says she'll go for the noble." the dwarf challenged. At this point, it likely would have shaken the other's hand on the challenge, but given the four-pawed nature of its competitor, it decided against it. Who knew where those paws had been before, after all? "Give a woman the chance to do that and she'll jump straight at it, trust me."
"Is the terrible jest-telling Warden in line for the organic throne as well?" Shale inquired. As far as she was aware, this made it nobility as well.
The dwarf grimaced a little bit, but made a gesture that said enough about that. "Yeah, potentially. But unless he grows some balls and 'fesses up to Nim soon, she'll go for another guy that actually likes her tits. 'Sides, unless someone puts him on the throne, he's about as royal as the mongrel here." it added, nodding towards the dog.
But the canine remained persistent in its opinion. The clown knight was in love with the enchantress, it reasoned. Given enough time, it would recognize that the painted elf – and maybe even the hound noble – presented a threat to its intentions to woo the enchantress. It would gather its courage and confess; or at least blurt it out in its usual awkward and ungraceful manner. And the enchantress would find it endearing, as it always did.
In short, three roast beef dinners on the clown knight, the dog was saying.
The dwarf grinned viciously, still unimpressed.
"We'll see who's right when you're stayin' hungry and watching me gloat, you overgrown fleebag."
"It proposes a wager on who the enchantress will copulate with in the end?" Shale was actually somewhat intrigued. This could be most interesting, if the prize was right. She had witnessed years upon years of courting and mating and even reproduction between organics of every shape and size and race.
Assuming this was worth the trouble, she could make her own guess who the enchantress would eventually mate with based on actual scientific observation and not just a hunch or a pragmatic worldview.
"That's the gist of it." the dwarf said, nodding curtly. "You wanna bet on one of them? The dog's already made his choice and threw in a prize I'll collect most gleefully."
Again, the dog barked in an obvious challenge, also confident in its choice.
"It is an interesting concept." Shale had to admit. Inwardly, she evaluated the possibilities and the percentage of chance the three candidates had of mating with the enchantress, considering its age, race and apparent general preference. "Three dead but not squashed birds on the painted elf."
"Wha- dead birds?" The dwarf's eyes turned just the slightest bit protuberant. "Why would we want dead birds?" it demanded most ignorantly.
"It is my understanding that the disgusting concept of consuming the vile fiends after ritualistically disposing of them is natural for some organics." Revolting, really, but Shale assumed that even removing the garbage was a function in the world of organics that had to be fulfilled by something or someone. She was willing to bear it, because the fiends would be killed whatever happened. "It can even select the type of bird, as long as justice is done upon them. If I win, it must find the birds for me to crush violently."
Roast duck or chicken was something that the dwarf seemed to be willing to accept. A shame that it wouldn't be pigeons, though.
"Alright, fine, that sounds good. Betting on the elf, are you?" it grinned widely, obviously believing that it had chosen the best candidate. "'s your loss."
"The enchantress is of the same species and aware of the painted elf's intention to mate with it." The former might not be important, but the latter was of clear significance. Besides, the painted elf was aggressive in its pursuit of the enchantress, meaning that some actual progress could be made there. And, unlike the hound noble, they would actually be spending a considerable amount of time together. "That is the first step of such rituals, in my experience."
The dice was cast, in any case, so there was no need to fear anyone changing their opinion. The dwarf, however, seemed content as long as the dog's win was thwarted and smirked at the canine with obvious relish and glee.
"Hah! You hear that, mongrel? You're toast!"
o.O.o
This is likely the last chapter before Christmas, so happy holidays if I don't get back to you guys before the end of the year! As always, here's the preview, though it might turn out inaccurate:
Chapter five: The party prepares to leave for the Dalish encampment… and Alistair does get the hint. Maybe.