Hey Hey kids, it's a me! Sorry I haven't been able to be here for the past few months, had slight problems with moving on from this chapter. But never fear. I came. I saw. And I conquered.
So this is a little chapter to commemorate my birthday, which is during the month of Cassus (Dragons, assemble!) which I wanted to write during the holidays but I was too busy... with the holidays. So um, yeah. Oh, I should mention that I watched Game of Thrones, just bits of it, and I can safely say that I'm gonna handle this like George R Martin handles a wedding
And now to the reviews
Snowy: Lovely words as always. It should be hard for him, I like to imagine that under such circumstances he would logically deduce that everytime I've put him in such situations, it's been fight or die. But what you know and what you feel are two seperate things. I agree entirely about the magic, he needs to learn to cool down on it for a while until he builds up some strength, but it's kinda like a new toy or a wobbly tooth. It's new and it's strange and you just can't stop playing with it. As for the Warden... Spoilers ;D
Guest: Thanks for the review, before anything happens, we wait for the Thaw. And even then, who knows?
MasterAssassin Scrolls: Fantastic to have you aboard mate and I'm very glad that you're enjoying the story so far. Please apologise to the neighbours for me, that is a great compliment though. I agree, but killing will have to become common place for Sparrow, what with everything I have planned for him [feel free to insert a "MWAHAHAHA"]. I added Fable because I've place the games in the past and now own all three and I have literally no regrets. "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men..." But you're right, hopefully everyone feels bad when a life is taken, but they become desensitised with the exposure to the blood of their enemies. And to make another quote, "Oh yes, there will be blood."
By the way people, I plan on adding more crossovers here and there so I'm just going to keep this story in the Dragon Age section and just add them all into the disclaimer.
Chapter 10: And Many More...
I awaken to someone poking my head. In my old life, that usually meant that my brother was trying to get me up, or my dad was there to pick me up. But in this new world, there's only one person I've come across that would dare.
"Wake up little Sparrow," Tamarel says mischeviously as she continues to prod my face. I grab at her hand but catch nothing but air as she laughs.
"Can we kill her?" Jack's voice enters my mind and I smile.
Oh, so very tempting.
"Wakey wakey," she says again and I open my eyes.
Her elfen features leap at me, with her slightly larger than human green eyes, nose with no dip in the the bridge of her nose. Her light hair, braided, is tied behind her knife-like ears. One could almost say she was beautiful, it it wasn't for an ugly scar that streches from the corner of her mouth and curves upwards past her eye. She keeps it hidden with a scarf, but you don't share a room with someone without becoming privy to how they look underneath cloth and linen.
Some say elves were born beautiful, and in Tamarel's case, someone went out of their way to change that.
I groan as I stretch in the bed, bones popping and clicking with a contented smile.
Then I scowl at the intruder.
"What," I slur sleepily, eyes blurring out of focus before settling on her.
"Morning birdy," she says playfully. "Feeding time."
I groan as I turn out of bed, not bothering to feel self-conscious under the scarred elves gaze.
My body has changed a lot since I came here. Fat, gone. Muscles, vast. I'm no Schwarzenegger, but I could definitely see a Tom Daley resemblance when it comes to my body. Lean, wiry. Strong.
That, and I know from experience that Tamarel will not leave the room until she wants to, which is usually with me.
I quickly get dressed and follow Tamarel downstairs. The others are already up - there's chorus' of "morning" all round - and tucking into breakfast, which is mostly broth or porridge. With someone of my refined tastes - modern anyway - I slice up some bread and use the toaster, a very different machine to what I was once used to.
It was on the first day that I figured out who the morning people were. Elva, the elfen mage - and even I think that's on the nose - is always quiet and reserved, only speaking the minimal amount when absolutely needed, mainly to solve arguements between the two rogue brothers, Grigor and Kaiden. Those two are usually boisterous and loud, but in the mornings are usually found in a quiet corner nursing headaches from the night before.
Kherek and Serana, the two warriors of the group usually sit together near the window. While the sight of a male dwarf and human female talking about the pros and cons of broadswords over porridge was disconcerting at first, I've since grown accustomed to it in the month since.
Duncan is usually up before all of us - and that is a mean feat - and is the one who makes the broth and porridge before retiring back to his study.
And finally, there's Tamarel, the female elfen knife expert who is most definitely a morning person. And due to lack of rooms, my roomate.
What kind of person am I?
Take a wild fucking guess.
Because I'm making toast, I sit on one of the armchairs by the fire. In the opposite chair sits Tamarel, who stares at me without blinking as she slurps her broth. I send the occasional scowl her way, which makes her smile widen.
Despite myself, I feel a small smile on my own face.
Damn my weak spot for women.
Turning back to my toast I scowl at the blackened lump of charcoal I'm holding in the prongs. I spent a moment scraping off the worst of the black burn, noticing accompanying intakes of breath from Kaiden and Grigor before finally tucking into breakfast.
What a glorious life.
"You know,-"
Shut. The Fuck. Up.
So I'm definitley not a morning person.
The day consists of training. Duncan is adamant about staying here for the winter and a part of me is glad. The Korcari Wilds are treacherous at the best of times, I'd rather not die in a snowdrift a few metres from my goal.
And while I'm here, it wouldn't hurt to learn to defend myself.
The older recruits take it in turns to spar with me, teaching me a new maneouvre everyday and then having a mock fight using the maneouvre. Thankfully, my compatriots are well versed in the art of death.
Kaidan, the slick talking rogue, is a master of the bow. I mean, the bloke is Robin Hood and Legolas' love child on Speed, I really mean it. He once shot an arrow straight up moved back a step and smirked as his arrow buried itself into the soil in front of him.
Then there's his brother Grigor, a master of dual wielding, though his favourite combination seems to be a dagger and longsword combo. We had a mannequinn in the back yard. Had. During our first session, Grigor rediced it into woodchips and splinters as I watched. Took about five minutes. Right now, he's working on improving my arm strength, which means very sore arms at the end of the day due to a multitude of pull ups, push ups, weights and other strength building excercises.
Kherek, the dwarf is teaching me how to wield two-handed weapons, but I doubt I'll use that. Some of the concepts appeal to me, stand your ground and use your strength. While there is a definite strength advantage, I find them too unwieldy, being knocked off balance easily and with no proper defence. But that might just be my lack of experience, who knows what else I'll learn in coming days.
Serana uses the long sword and shield, trading power for defense which makes her a dangerous mentor, able to take anything I dish out before executing critical counter attacks. Once I got frustrated and "accidentally" - cough - sent a fireball at her, very much toned down from my usual. She shook off the flames and smashed the pommel of her sword against my head, knocking me out for a few hours.
Tamarel is the resident knife lady, who could give even my dad a run for his money when it comes to blades - and the man liked his knives. Add that to hand to hand expert, and she's the tutor I spend most of the time with, seeing as how she's teaching me two skills.
Finally, we have Elva who is trying to help me control my mana better. While there are many fundamental differences between our two branches of magic, she is definitely a scholar and is able to work out connections between the two that are invisible to me, speeding up my progress. I find her air calm, though slightly judgmental, kinda like my grandparents. Loving, but firm. I can tell she dissaproves of me being here.
So that's my day. When I wake up I'm essentially a page, running errands and doing chores around the barracks. Then we move on to combat. First, I practice with Tamarel, fighting with first my fists and then my knives and working on improving my wind. Then Grigor, Kaiden, Serana and Kherek before finishing with Elva which usually brings me to around sunset.
And that's been going on for the past week.
My bones, aching like they never have before, my muscles that I never knew existed have grown new lungs to scream louder and I'm constantly assualted by a demonic headache that refuses to pass by.
In otherwords, if Death were to knock on the front door I'd give him the biggest hug of my soon to end life.
The only upside is that Oakvale and Jack barely bug me now. They're both in the armoury downstairs in the cellar, and while their voices are as loud as ever, their comments are coming few and far in between.
I finish my toast and Tamarel smiles at me evily but it turns to a frown when I smirk back.
"What are you grinning at," she asks warily.
"Commander wants me for something. Could be an awful long time," I say, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively.
She scowls back as I rise to my feet - barely biting back a groan - reveling in my small victory.
"You know, the more you put off this training, the harder the coming battles will be," Oakvale intones wisely from the cellar.
"You've seen my memories Vale," I say quietly as I climb the stairs. "What am I if not lazy?"
I stand outside Duncan's study and knock once before entering. He looks up from his papers, candlelight flickering at the change of pressure and the way the shadows leap over his face he resembles a corpse with his dark baggy eyes and wrinkled flesh. He seems to have aged decades since we last saw.
"You okay chief," I ask in concern. "You look as good as I feel."
"Yes Sparrow, I'm fine," comes the weary response. "Thank you for asking."
"It's no problem," I say cautiosly. "So you wanted to see me?"
"Yes, I was wondering if you had any other information about the Architect we could use?" he asks, gesturing to the chair which I sit on. "I'm planning our expedition to the Wilds, and I'd like to be as well informed as possible." He moves some papers, and I think I see a calendar being shoved to the side.
I wonder what day it is.
Pushing that aside, I concentrate.
"Uh, I think that he's not wanting to kill everyone and turn them into half-darkspawn anymore. He's trying to find a way to sever the connection between the Darkspawn and the Old Gods." I say, thinking back. This is a lot harder when I don't have a wiki to consult.
"Really?" Duncan asks, surprised. I nod. "He seemed quite attached to the idea. Anything else?"
"He's working with Utha still, and he's gonna pick up an elf by the name of Seranni. He has three lieutenants, The Lost, The Herald and The... First, I think. All of them, along with a few others, are intelligent."
"Intelligence?" Duncan confirms. I nod again and scratch my head.
"Uh, let me see, what else is there..." I say, chewing my lip.
Feels like a Friday.
"The blood, it's always the blood," Oakvale ponders morosely.
I sit up like I've had a electic shock and stop chewing my lip. I look at Duncan intensely. He motions for me to continue.
"The Ar-" I clear my throat and continue. "The Architect believes that the way to end the Blight... Is Grey Warden blood."
Duncan looks up at me, eyes furious. "What?"
I shift in my seat a little and sigh. "Grey Warden blood disrupts the Call of the Old Gods that the darkspawn feel. From what I saw, it looks like it works," I say and Duncan cuts me off.
"Using our blood is perverse," Duncan growls.
"He likened it to using their blood for the Joining," I say quietly and when Duncan's eyes blaze with anger I hold up my hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm just the oracle."
His lip curls in disgust as he writes that down. "So how does a Blight occur if this method works?"
"If you'd let me finish," I say, glaring, "Works mostly. Not one hundred percent. Some go mad without the song and continue as before," I say uneasily, remembering Mother all too well.
That bitch freaked me out in a game, I do not wanna see her in real life.
"Anything else?" Duncan asks after a thoughtful nod.
"You know everything else I think. As much as I do anyway," I shrug. I look at him apologetically and say, "I'm sorry, I wish I could be of more help."
"Nonsense," Duncan says, waving a hand at me. "You've given us warning, now we have time to prepare. Speaking of which, how is your training coming along?"
I grimace and Duncan smiles. "That is the correct answer."
"Why are they pushing me so hard?" I ask, leaning forward painfully. "Surely it isn't normally this hard, right?"
"We need to give you years of training in a few short months," Duncan says with a sly smile. "Yes, it's going to be very hard. But worth it. The harder we push, the more pressure you'll be able to undertake. You have to remember, bandits aside, our enemy is a race of dark, brutal, savage animals. In response, we need to be quick, strong and precise. We cannot hesitate and we cannot falter." Duncan pauses and I see hesitation in his eyes. "When the thaw comes... If you pass your training, you will have your Joining."
My eyes widen and my mouth becomes an O.
"Oh," I say quietly, shock coursing through my body. "What's brought that on?"
Duncan scowls before turning back to his papers. "Your 'friend', Captain Reynolds has made several appeals towards the Kings judgement on you. One of his claims is that you do not wear the Warden armour, nor have you been officially inducted."
I blink. "And how the fuck does he know that?" Is that son of a bitch spying on me?
"I'm not sure, but it's best to rectify this as soon as possible when there are sympathisers like Loghain around who agree," he says tiredly. Before, he was full of an energy, a determination. Now, he looks ready for bed last week.
With a start, I realise just why Duncan looks so ragged.
"I've never really done this before," I say quietly, looking out the window as I scratch my head. I turn to look at his desk, focussing on the assorted papers lying there. "So I'll make this quick. When-"
I stop. Stare. Eyes wide.
"Sparrow," Duncan asks, worried. Ignore him. My eyes are focussing on one thing and one thing only.
"What's the matter peasant?" Jack says with usual hardness in his voice.
"Jack, look," Oakvale says softly, sadly. I hear nothing after that.
"Sparrow?" Duncan asks, shaking my arm. I hiss in pain and stare at him with tears in my eyes.
"Sorry. Sorry, mind wandered for a second there," I say with a smile as I try to stop my eyes leaking. "Sorry, I've got to go."
I don't wait for his answer as I race out of the room, shooting down the hall, sprinting down the stairs and flying out the door. I don't stop running - despite several angry shouts, probably assuming I'm a thief, or possibly the Wardens following me - for a long time.
Eventually, my burning legs and empty lungs for me to stop, taking painful breaths as I lean against a building. My pants become gasps and the gasps become sobs and I curl up. I sob into my knees, rocking back and forth as the tears flow down my thighs.
I was not expecting this. I was not expecting this at all. Kinda jumped out at me.
Eleven months. Give or take a week or two. Eleven months since I ended up here. I nearly smile at the thought that my anniversary is coming up. Almost.
Which means Christmas is in a few weeks. But first, my birthday.
Today.
A fresh wave of tears crashes over me.
This is not the way it's supposed to be!
Where's my brother trying to give me birthday bumps?
My sister, baking a cake in the kitchen?
My mum, saying how proud she is of me and how she needs to get candles for later?
My dad, laughing as we trade birthday presents?
My friends, laughing about having one foot in the grave?
WHERE IS MY FAMLIY? WHERE IS MY LIFE?
This should all have ended months ago, it should never have begun. I shouldn't be here. I should not be celebrating my 18th birthday is a world of blood and fire.
"Not like this," I whimper into my legs, squeezing them tight. "I want my family back!"
I need to go home.
After I calmed down, I roamed the city for hours. I didn't want to go back ho-. To the barracks.
So here I am, wandering around Denerim in my bare feet, shivering slightly from the cool air with my hands in my pockets and my head bowed. Neither care where I'm going or what I'll do when I get there.
I miss my chest, back on the Sirens Call, with all the stuff I brought from my world. All I want is some sort of connection, to home. I need things like that, momentos.
Sometimes I catch myself forgetting.
I feel terrible when I realise, and the day is sure to worsen as I brood on it. But it's true.
I can hardly remember their faces. Barely remember their voices.
That's what we want to stay with us the most when people are gone. When all we have left is their memories... And then our minds fade. Maybe it's just me but I lose voices pretty quick in my noggin, faces aren't much better.
But this is my family. The people who mean most to me in the world and I...
I've left them behind. I didn't want to - oh god I didn't mean to - and not a day goes by that I don't wish I was with them.
I just...
I'm so scared. And lost.
I don't know where I am. I need someone to help me.
Help me. Please.
Anyone.
Eventually, when night has fallen, I find myself sitting on the bridge to the Alienage. I pondered the idea of visiting Darrien today, but decided against it.
I'm in no fit mood to entertain.
So I just sit there, staring into the water while I pick at reeds growing on the banking.
All of a sudden, the hairs on my neck stand up, and not from the cold. I glance around, but there's no-one in sight.
But I know there's someone out there.
Must be enemies on the map, I think with a small smirk.
After a minute, the presence dissappears. Whatever it, was it's gone. But I know it'll be back.
Ever since we came to Denerim, I've felt like I'm being watched. A feeling of unease comes over me.
Who the hell would want to watch me? I'm nobody. I shouldn't even exist in this world.
Deciding I've stayed here long enough, I get up and start walking aimlessly. After nearly half an hour I come to a building with laughter and music coming from it. Thinking it a bar or tavern, I enter.
One thought permeates my mind as I do. This place is stinking of sex. With a smile I realise I must be in a whore-house, most likely the Pearl.
Well, it is my birthday after all.
I stare at my reflection.
"Yur... you're an idjit," I slur drunkenly. "Jus like he alway sayss."
Dad... Yeah, him. "Yur nothin but a fat, sad cunt," I say in a gruff tone, mimicking him. "Soft... fat waste o' space. Nothin."
The world spins for a minute and suddenly I'm wet. Coughing and spluttering, I kick to the surface of the river. I I swim to the side and grab hold of handfuls of grass, my body still being dragged away by the water. I drag myself ashore and continue spluttering the water from my lungs.
Well, that sobered me up a little bit.
Wait, did that hooker have a rash.
Never mind, I should get back to the barracks.
I drag myself up the banking and climb over the wall. While I try to hop over, my legs forget to come with me and I face plant the road. My legs, getting the message, then follow over, slamming onto the road as well and sending spikes of pain along my back and feet.
"Ow," I say simply as I stare at the sky. I spend a minute looking for Orion's belt. Then I remember that I'm in another world.
And just like that, my melancholy's back. I slowly pick myself off the ground, using the wall for support. I stand up straight as my back cracks and I hiss in pain. "That's a bitty better," I murmur as I stagger forwards. I don't recognise this part of town, but if I follow the river in the opposite direction that it's flowing, then I should be able to get back to the bridge and find my way from there.
I get about five paces before I fall on my face again. This may take a while.
And it does. I hear the bells toll ten times as I finally cross the bridge.
I'm sure it was eightish when I left the Pearl. Pretty sure I passed out a few times. With a sigh, I continue my stotter back.
I collapse again and land in something I'd rather not talk about.
Oh, what a birthday!
"You should go home messere," A voice calls ahead of me. I look up to a cloaked individual of dubious sexuality, though the voice sounded feminine. Between us, snowflakes begin to fall lightly.
Winter is here.
"Actually, I was on my way madame," I smile drunkenly as I pick myself up and dust myself down. "I would suggest that you do the same. The dark is no place for a woman such as yourself."
Her laughter fills the air as though it were the funniest joke she'd heard. "Oh messere Sparrow, you don't have to worry about me," She says and as I move closer, I can see the mask she's wearing, patterned like a wolf's head. The only otheer things I can make out are her stunning green eyes and lithe figure.
"You know who I am?" I ask in confusion, unaware of who this woman could be. I don't believe I have that much of a reputation. I can't see her face behind that mask but the way she holds herself makes me think she's smiling. She saunters up to me and my mouth dries.
She leans close and whispers in my ear, "Your kindness has been noted, and repaid," before walking right past me. I watch her as she leaves, a look of utter confusion on my face.
What the hell?
After the woman strolls out of sight I put the incident from my mind and continue back to the barracks.
Nine... Ten... Eleven...
Wow, took me an hour to get here. Takes me nearly fifteen minutes usually.
But then again, I don't normally crawl most of the way.
I make it to the edge of the street and stand up before walking normally.
I got a lot of practise acting sober, but why put on a show when there's no-one to watch?
I make it halfway down the street when the feeling of being watched returns, much more intensely this time.
I don't know whether I act on instinct or if my legs picked a perfect moment, but the next thing I know is I'm on the ground with an arrow striking the path in front of me.
Shit, I'm going to be killed. Okay. Think.
Kaidan, he takes about three seconds to notch another arrow and let loose, and he's practically superhuman. So we'll say, I've got about six seconds.
Four left. My eyes dart ahead. No way I can make it to the barracks in time, not with this stotter. Might be able to send a fireball towards the window to warn them.
I concentrate on creating a strong light instead of heat. My arm darts out and I cry.
Nothing happens, I can't focus enough.
Shit, two seconds. Fuck fuck fuck.
I flip onto my back and search around desperately for the archer and after another few seconds an arrow soars towards me from the rooftops. I see it, thin and small, falling from above and arcing towards me in its deadly descent. I flinch as it collides and hiss with pain from the impact.
Thank christ I activated my shield. I let out a gasp of laughter and give the archer the bird as I giggle with relief. I look around for the arrow and blink.
Oh. Right. Okay. That's not good.
Using my vast powers of deduction, I have found the arrow located in my costae spuriae, also known as MY FUCKING RIBS!
I rip out the arrow and roar in pain. I scramble to my feet desperately, trying my best to ignore the agony in my side. I think I've broken a rib. Crap, it could puncture my lung and I could drown in my blood and die.
Fear crashes through my mind with each second, followed by wave after wave of pain. The assassin approaches, pulling a sword out as he strides towards me. I stumble backwards, clutching onto the bloodied arrow.
Shit, I need a weapon.
Wait, I am a weapon.
Come on magic, work dammit. Get mad. Go Hulk.
"You... fucking dare," I shout at the approaching assassin. My face begins to redden and my fists clench. Come on, fucking work it maggot. "You think you can kill me?!"
My hands are burning and as I snap my fingers, they both burst into magnificent blue flames. "YOU CAN'T KILL ME," I scream as I hold up the burning arrow as it disintigrates. The assassins step falters for a moment before he resumes his advance, quicker now.
I throw my arm out and a fireball leaps from my fist before I collapse, nursing my ribs. Thankfully, I'm immune to my flames. I look up and the assassin is running now, having side stepped the fireball. I cast another which he manages to avoid. If he closes the gap, I'm dead.
I move backwards, throwing more and more fireballs as I move closer to the barracks. The assassin, sensing my plan, redoubles his efforts to reach me. Before I can reach the door he gets close enough to attack and swipes me with his sword. I lunge backwards but my ribs blind me with white hot pain and I fall. I curl up and concentrate on my shield, praying to anyone that it works.
The assassin lunges forwards to stab at me, but his attack is stopped by a blue aura that tops the blade from cutting me, but doesn't take the sting away. I kick out at his wrist and he hisses before dropping his blade. I dart to my feet and smash him against the wall.
I hold him there as my flames arc over his clothes and skin, scorching everything they come across. A sudden knee slams into my stomach and I'm thrown away. My flames dim slightly, but the indignation of this fucker daring to kill me makes them blaze back to life. I get to my feet as he tears off his flaming jacket, revealing the dark, scorched skin underneath. The only source of light is my mage-fire, dwarfing that of the moon and stars, so I can't be sure but I think he looks tanned. He draws a sword and the light glints off the blade. There appears to be a tattoo of some sort on his chest. A bird maybe?
Not a native. Fine weapons. Assassin. Bird tattoo?
"What the fuck do the Crow's want with me?" I ask in confusion, my mind connecting the dots as the assassin darts forward. I duck to the side and touch the blade as it passes. Where my fingers connected, the metal has boiled, leaving droplets of steel to cool on the ground. The assassin smirks, not noticing his blade is warped.
"He said you were clever," the killer smiles. "But you were supposed to be an easy kill. He said nothing of a mage. I'll have to charge extra," he admonishes me and I shoot him a grin back.
"What can I say, I aim to disappoint." The rage begins to leave me and the flames dull before evaporating. "Who hired you?" The assassin smirks. "Worth a shot," I say. I take a step and nearly stagger, vision dulling.
Fuck, too much magic.
"Listen mate, we'll just try this again later, yeah?" I ask, trying to show no weakness. If he knows he has the advantage, he will take it. And I will die. "I've had a drink, you cocked it up, let's forget about this, yeah?"
He wiggles his sword and finally notices that it's bent almost at a ninety degree angle now. "Oh yeah, and that's knackered."
He scowls at me furiously. Weighs his options.
And then my vision blackens around the edges and I stumble. The assassin smirks and rushes towards me. I settle into a stance that Tamarel taught me as he sends a punch to my face.
I grab his fist. Kick at his chest. He catches it and twists. There's a crunch in my foot.
I scream.
My shield cuts out. My flames evaporate. I fall. The assassin draws a dagger from his back and leans in close.
I stare at him dead in the eyes, panting heavily.
"I'll wait for you in Hell when some fucker sticks a blade in your eye," I curse at my killer. He smiles, and I see brown teeth. He leans in closer and I see his tanned, nut brown skin, his blonde hair, his blue eyes.
"Death comes for us all eventually," he says in a deep, Italian accent. He brings the blade back...
And an arrow appears in his hand. He screams in pain as the dagger falls and we both look up.
1 second.
I see the doors of the barracks open, light spilling out as Duncan rushes up the street, just being overtaken by Tamarel. Behind them is Kherek and Serana, with Elvha leading them, her staff blazing with light in a way that reminds me of Gandalf warding away the Nazgul. I almost expect to hear and elven choir.
2 seconds.
The assassin, seeing he is now outmatched and outgunned, spins away, holding his hand close to his chest. He doesn't pause to make any last remarks, or curse our names or even to vow to return. He simply turns tail and runs.
3 seconds.
For all the good it does as an arrow lodges itself in his back. His body stiffens and I hear him cry out as he falls. He seems to try to crawl for a moment, before the strength leaves his body forever.
At this point Duncan and the others have drawn level and as his worried face fills my vision I feel the adrenaline rush from my body. I try to speak to them, tell them I'm alright before a pain in my side causes my head to dart down.
Oh yeah... Shot.
Shit.
The fatigue of the night takes its toll and my vision swims before cutting to black. The last thing I see is Tamarel's face, covered in worry.
Happy Birthday to me.
DUHN DUHN DUHN!
WHAT'S GOING ON? That won't be his favourite birthday, but it'll be one that sticks in his mind for many a year. IF HE SURVIVES!
And the only way I'm letting that happen is if you guys review.
You know the drill peeps. Read and review, would you kindly.