Chapter Nine: Shrubberies

The next lesson I learned about Thedas is that law and order only barely existed, even in Orlais, the largest and most stable country. You would think with all the harsh justice meted out to anyone even simply appearing guilty, that you wouldn't run into anyone nefarious outside of the aristocracy. Such thoughts are entirely wrong. It just means the smart criminals get away at the expense of the dumb ones. Come to think of it, the situation on Earth was pretty similar in that particular respect. Except with our knowledge of the world, you had to be very smart indeed. Regardless, when I arrived, there were no specialised police officers except the occasional town sheriff, who relied entirely on the nobility for extra manpower. There was also no trial by jury, as I had experienced already. Despite Orlais' supposed reputation for imposing order, as opposed to Fereldan's Do-It-Yourself approach to justice, I found the latter to be far more useful in the mean time than the former. Besides, bringing someone to a sheriff when you are probably wanted for treason is not the best idea.

Any otherworlders out there reading this will understand this chapter's name in due course.

The circumstances of my night's watch and sleep were comfortable indeed.

We had decided to take it in shifts for the watch, and I drew second to last. Which meant I had about three hours of sleep before I had to get up. Considering how drunk I was, it was very easy to get through that, and it was also pretty easy to wake as I was still drunk when my turn to look out for dangers came along. After which I sat next to the remains of the campfire in the pitch black, with my firelance across myself and a pair of goggles that allowed me to see in the dark attached to my forehead. Another irreplaceable technological marvel, I guess, but it meant that nothing would sneak up on us. Nugs wandered around near the camp, so I had to turn the things on every few minutes to see what the noise was. Fox-like things moved about as well, albeit less often as they were well aware that I was there. Fennecs were their name, I found out when I inquired later. I felt at ease for the first time about the wildlife. If such creatures were around, others, such as dragons, likely were not nearby.

The hour and a half went by quickly, and I woke Armen to relieve me for the final and longest shift. Having four and a half hours sleep on him, he was actually the least fresh of us, feeling the early effects of a hangover. He grumbled about this as he took up his position, and I handed him a canteen of water to shut him up. Which was sipped liberally, as I collapsed into the tangle of opened sleeping bags that we had set up inside the helicopter, after pulling off my armour and setting aside my weapon. Again, I had no trouble falling asleep.

I awoke not because of any noise or particular sensation, but because it felt like I was in a sauna. It was damn warm, and I was sweating. Cracking my eyes open, daylight flooded my sight. I found my legs covered with a sleeping bag, Julie draped over my shoulder and Tam in her apparent customary position on my belly. The former had her arm around me, making things worse, while the latter clung to one sleeping bag while laying down on another. Both were in various states of undress, undoubtedly the result of the rise in temperature. Their body heat poured off them and on to me, even through my uniform's undershirt. What a lucky man I was, as easy it is to see in retrospect.

At the time however, I was desperate with thirst.

I was forced to risk the inevitable stab from Tam's horn to drown it. Neither stirred when I gently started to lift them off of me. Julie was easiest, as I just took her arm and placed it at my side. Tam took a little more manoeuvring, as I was forced to wiggle out from under her and put another sleeping bag under her head. Thus, with a good bit of effort, I raised myself away from the sleeping pit. I looked back down at the pair of them, comfortably asleep. Considering the cares heaped upon them, they appeared very peaceful. Despite their previous situation, I sincerely hoped my presence in this world would not end up making things worse for them.

I drank my water greedily, despite it being as nastily warm as the air. As I would be unable to get back to sleep, the space to do so taken up by my two sleeping partners anyway, I put on my combat webbing over my shirt and stepped outside. It was late-morning, as far as I could tell, and there wasn't even a wisp of a breeze. The humidity had risen as well, making matters worse. I had an urge to try and wave the wall of heat away from me, but knew it wouldn't help. Besides, the smell of cooking meat soon wafted in my direction.

Armen was sat looking glum by the rekindled fire, cooking a nug to a crisp. I guessed he was still hungover. His robes were pulled tight around him, and his jaw was clenched as if he was in pain. Unable to stand the sight of him in depression, particularly when I was in such a good mood, I grabbed something from my pack and went to him. The horse looked up from its resting position as I did so, watching us.

"Here, these will help with the headache," I said, holding out two medicinal pills for him, "More Earthling magic."

He took the two wordlessly, examined them in his palm for a moment, then looked up at me. I gave my most reassuring nod, before poking at the nug with a stick. I hoped it wasn't one of the two I had seen before, as he swallowed the painkillers without any water.

"You'll feel better in a few minutes," I added with a yawn.

"Thank you," he replied.

"Not a problem," I said, "Any chance I could have a piece of that?" I pointed at the nug.

"Wasn't planning on eating it all myself anyway," said Armen, turning the meat, "Are you going to show me your weapons?"

I looked at him, not really sure what he was talking about for a moment until I remembered the conversation from the night before. I had promised that, in my drunkenness. I thought about turning him down, fearing that he might be able to figure out some means of replicating the weapons. But, the idea of going back on my word, even my drunken word, didn't sit right with me. Aside from my own dubious honour, I needed him to trust me if we were going to get away to real safety.

I pat him on the shoulder, and stood up. First, I retrieved the machinegun and the precision firelance from the helicopter, and put them beside him.

"Don't touch yet," I said, "These can hurt you."

Armen nodded solemnly, indicating that he understood me despite his curious glances at the things. Satisfied he wasn't going to blow his own head off looking down the barrel of the Minimi, I wandered off to the cave.

Upon entering, I breathed with relief. It was cool inside, gloriously so. The thought occurred to me to grab a blanket and sleeping bag, and decamp to the shelter provided there for another few hours sleep, but I realised we'd need to get moving too soon for that to be an option. With some sadness at the haste we would need to show, I lifted the first metal container off the stack and dragged it out of the cave.

I took it to Armen, opened it up, and took out one of the dozen or so firelances inside. I had to play with the moment, putting on my best dodgy salesman act as I showed him the weapon.

"Introducing the Gewehr 36, from the finest gunsmiths at Heckler and Koch," I said, holding it at shoulder height, "Firing five-five-sixers at a rate of seven hundred rounds a minute, this weapon is perfect for any mage looking to down a pesky Templar platoon from a safe distance. Results guaranteed."

Armen smiled, getting the joke immediately. Merchant pitches are the same in any universe.

"As you can see, the weapon's controls are fully ambidextrous, and it comes with an integrated sight for maximum accuracy," I continued, "Feel the weight. And don't point it at me."

I handed him the weapon. He did as he was told, balancing the thing between his two hands as if weighing it, before grabbing it as he had seen me do with my own example. He looked it over for a minute or two as I sat. Soon, he had figured out the sights, and was aiming downrange at the dragon's skeleton in an impressively competent firing stance. He pulled the trigger, releasing a small click sound, before holding the firelance out again to me. I grinned, able to tell that he was impressed.

"You used these before?" Armen asked, "In your own world?"

"And others like them," I confirmed, "They're very common."

"What about these?" the mage continued, indicating the two unique examples I had, "They seem different."

"They are," I said, picking up the precision device, "This can hit a single man at eight hundred yards, or more if you're very good. That's what the telescope is for on top, see?"

"Can you demonstrate this?" he asked, slyly. A transparent attempt to work out the mechanics of the weapon, in other words.

"I have no doubt you will see me use it before we're done," I replied, "Nice try, though."

"I'm sure you would ask the same if our places were reversed," Armen smirked.

"Absolutely," I said, packing the weapons away again.

Julie and Tam soon woke up to the smell of the cooking nug. However little myself and Armen were able to eat, the rest soon disappeared into their mouths in short order. Which was fine by me, infatuated idiot that I was. Am. Whatever. I chewed on some snacks from the ration packs we had already opened instead.

Breakfast finished with, we began loading up the cart with the contents of the cave cache. It was no small task, as moving them to the cave was not either. I had them stacked in a way that would make us look more like arms dealers than people from another world. Weapons, ammunition and explosives went on the bottom, because they were the most obviously bizarre things to any uneducated observer. The bulletproof armour and provisions went in the middle, and the crates that were originally on the cart were put on top. The object being to hide the contents below in case someone made a quick search.

Of course, I couldn't help but add yet more cargo to it.

I spent two hours ripping equipment out of the helicopter. Lighting devices, loudspeakers and headphones for playing back sound from the music player or from voice-projecting microphones, devices for controlling the power of electricity and others for generating it from movement. I even took the fire extinguishers and a lot of the wiring. Anything I thought useful, it got ripped out. Normally, there was a beacon that would have given the position of the machine to others, but it was totalled, so I took its power source too. Most of it got put in the huge box that Armen had hid in. I was fielded questions on every last thing I pulled out too, so it took far longer than I thought, but I was happy to answer. By the end, the wagon was almost too heavily packed to carry us as well. Something that would need to be dealt with.

We were almost ready to go, so I called everyone over for a small gift. A rather utilitarian one.

"Here, take these," I said, handing out the bounty. It was a series headsets and radios, the ones that remained intact from the dragon attack. I explained what they were, and briefly how they worked, not needing to explain the really advanced stuff as it was unlikely that it would ever be necessary. The others found this stuff far more interesting than anything else they had seen thus far.

"So we can talk from a distance, without needing to shout..." said Tam, checking if she had heard me correctly.

"As long as that number on the display is the same as everyone else's, yes," I replied, "It works a quarter of a mile away too."

As Tam is wont to do, she ran off at a sprint to the dragon skeleton. The others looked at her in confusion, but I knew what she was at. Once the Qunari had reached her destination, she waved her hand. I activated the radio.

"Can you hear me?" I said, quietly enough so there was no chance of my voice carrying that far. Julie and Armen flinched slightly as my voice filtered through their headset to their ears directly. They weren't the only ones.

"Yes, I can," said Tam, incredulous that it worked even as the radio transmitted her voice into our ears.

"Well, we can hear you too, so come on back," I replied.

Tam jogged back with a thoughtful face. I guess she was thinking about how useful it would be. Armen had a similar visage plastered on. Given what we discovered his new profession was, it is not surprising. Julie skipped that, and began fiddling with the microphone and headseat to make them more comfortable, drawing her hair back so it wouldn't get in the way. At least one of them wasn't stunned by the concept, thankfully.

With that nonsense out of the way, there were two tasks I had to perform before leaving.

First, I went to the graves of Fraser, Patel, and the others, and saluted them, before saying a short prayer for the repose of their souls. It was all I had left to do, where that was concerned.

Second, I got out the marker stylus with which I had marked their graves, and wrote a message on both the inside and outside of the helicopter.

"Sam Hunt, United Nations Mission for Syria and Iraq (UN-SIFOR). British Army escort and RAF crew dead. Natives likely hostile, but technologically regressed. I have retreated to village of Hearth. Proceed south along nearby road. Evac would be nice."

Julie read these words and understood every word. I asked her what she thought.

"Natives hostile?" she asked back with a chuckle.

"The first people I met almost stuck me with swords," I said with a shrug, "Before that, we were attacked by dragons. More importantly, you punched me in the face. Have to warn them."

"Uh huh," said Julie, evidently sceptical.

"It's not like everyone's going to run into beautiful and friendly women out here," I said to both Julie and Tam, eliciting frowns of exasperation. Flattery will get you everywhere, gentlemen. Though she saw through my attempts as the pathetically cheesy silliness that they were.

"Well, I can't deny that," Julie said, glancing at the dragon corpse, "Can we go home now?"

Go home? I wished.

Of course, she meant go to her home. Which would become mine, in time. But first, we had to get there. We returned to the wagon and set out in good spirits, leaving the crash site to the forest. I didn't glance back, confident that I had done all that I could.

It became clear that the horse was having the worst of the journey after about half an hour. The poor thing's pace dropped off sharply compared with before. The cart itself had also taken to creaking loudly at every pothole or stone it bumped into, of which there were obviously very many. The road was unpaved for most of its course, looking more like a country lane in some places, before turning into a wide stony thoroughfare at others. I hopped off the cart and began walking ahead of it, hoping to relieve some of the weight to allow the horse to pick up the pace. I was well used to marching about and presumed myself to be the heaviest. It seemed ungentlemanly to get any of the others to walk. Particularly when I couldn't drive the cart myself anyway.

So, I strapped on a helmet, donned my armour once again and strode out ahead, armed to the teeth as I was. I was pleased to find that the horse was indeed relieved to a large degree, and it trotted along more happily and at a quicker rate.

The scenery quickly went from forest to a more agricultural landscape. Woodlands made way for fields of crops both short and tall, with the occasional pasture filled with cows or things that would spark a scientific investigation if they showed up in my world. It was the first clue that we were in the hinterland of a settlement. As we walked past the farms, I realised that most of the work in the world was likely to be tied up in them and others like them. Most people would be farm labourers, their heads barely above water. Little better than slaves. I thanked God that I was not born into such a system, that my fore-bearers had the good sense to rebel against it. I had no doubt that Julie thanked the Maker for her trade too, despite her other problems. She is an excellent blacksmith, and would make a poor farm serf. Others were far less fortunate, having to sell themselves.

The journey to Gethran's Crossing, the village we were aiming for, was supposed to take about two or three hours. After that amount of time, we were barely half way there. We came across some people moving about, on the way to some labour or another. They stared as they passed, mostly at Tam and I. There were even less Qunari this far south, and my strange dress probably made me look like a complete idiot. There is, however, a difference between looking like an idiot and being one. We would run into unfortunates who possessed both traits soon enough. For the mean time, I walked through the summer heat in full battle-dress, still more comfortable than I would have been if I had stayed in the desert on Earth. It was still twenty degrees colder than it would have been there, at least.

"This is taking too long," grumbled Tam over the radio, after another hour or two of the same. I think she was worried about being caught again, as I had caught her looking back behind us every time I myself had glanced back to check on the wagon. Armen was snoring away on top of the boxes by that point, and Julie was driving.

"Try walking it," I shot back cheerfully, "I assure you, you'll feel every mile." I'm sure the others could probably smell every mile at this point, even from twenty yards behind. Humidity is a bitch.

"That might help..." she conceded, "But we shouldn't leave the cart with only two to guard it."

"I agree with Tam," said Julie, throwing her two coppers in, "It'll take a lot longer than a week if this is how fast we're moving." Which was more than a little dangerous for us, if true. I didn't like the sound of it at all.

"Is there anything we can do?" I asked, "Take a boat maybe?"

"Too expensive," said Julie, "Plus stealing one would be a lot harder than simply stealing another horse or two."

"Horse theft is a hanging crime in Orlais," said Tam, "They accused me of it at Halamshiral, I don't want to be accused of it again." Implying she had a horse when she arrived. Which was a little curious.

"If the chevaliers catch up with us, I suspect horse theft will be the least of our problems," replied Julie.

"I'd prefer not to draw the attention of those fuckwits to us," I said firmly, "We obey the laws unless we're threatened. Maybe we can buy another horse in trade for some of the stuff we have."

Julie mumbled something about horses only belonging to rich bastards, which was only audible to me due to the radio. I let out a chuckle, but was cut short by something ahead of me.

The hedges on both sides of the road were moving across a fallow field towards us.

I stopped in my tracks. Hedges don't usually move on their own usually, and as I had yet to encounter possessed trees, I concluded that they could only be in transit as cover for people hiding behind them. No one here could be aware of my capabilities, or those of my companions, which ruled out fear as the reason for hiding. The people approaching were clearly hostile. I readied my weapon to fire quickly, and whispered into my radio mouthpiece.

"Stop the cart, we have company. Wake Armen, and get ready to fight."

The rumbling of the cart ceased. The sound of feet hitting the ground behind me confirmed that Tam and the mage had disembarked from the cart, and a quick glance confirmed that Julie remained on the cart. I cursed, thinking I should have given the others some of the body armour that was sat useless on the back of the damn thing in a box. Meanwhile, the hedges moved in, one laying itself across the road in front, and another behind.

Armed men emerged from behind, carrying rather crappy looking swords and maces and battered wooden shields. Some sported chainmail, others hardened leather. However, despite their substandard equipment, they looked like men who could fight. Men who had seen more than one too. Each of them had scars in places where you would expect soldiers to have them. Possibly combat veterans then, I knew. Not that it would matter.

The most striking thing about them however was the helmets. While they all wore different types, of varying quality and shapes, one thing was common throughout. Two horns, like a bull's or a goat's, stuck out of the side of them. Most of their faces were covered with a sheet of metal too, only their eyes peering out at us. Intimidation tactics were the motive, obviously, though while such a thing might scare a medieval peasant, I was a little more hardened. I was tempted to invite them to watch a man burn alive.

The man leading them swung a huge axe over his shoulder, which was well suited to him as he easily matched my height and build, perhaps surpassing it. His armour was a little more worthy of the name, and he put himself in the middle of the road, and stared at us. He was waiting for one of us to act.

Of course, one whiff of fear and they'd all attack simultaneously. I stood to my full height, and attached my bayonet to my firelance before speaking.

"What have we here?" I asked, half-laughing, "The Knights Who Say Ni? You already appear to have a shrubbery. I don't suppose we could simply pass peacefully?"

The joke is one many would get now, but none could have then. My bravado was far from hollow, I might say at this point. It was merely designed to throw them off balance, maybe even convince them to let us go via confidence.

"This is La Royaume des Bocages, and I am the king," declared Big One in an extremely deep tone, "For passage, you must pay your dues or face the wrath of the Horned Men." Either the man was putting on a voice to seem scary, or he needed to stop smoking.

So they were bandits, it turned out. Ruling over a hilariously named kingdom of the hedges. I have to say I was genuinely surprised, but then, I didn't know about the Fifth Blight or the unrest that had swirled around in Orlais in its aftermath. I had thought the nobles would stamp out such groups with no small degree of urgency, but apparently they're too stupid even for that. The Great Game consuming too much of their time for them to bother with basic governance. It's no wonder the 'Freemen of the Dales' gave them such trouble.

"We have the ones at the back," whispered Armen on the radio. Which granted me permission to do what I did next.

"The Horned Men huh?" I said, looking from side to side at the dozen men.

Big One took a step forwards. "No games. Surrender or we rob your corpses instead." The death threat had been issued, the possibility of mercy disappeared with it.

"But we haven't been properly introduced yet," I complained. I made a theatrical bow, and took my weapon into my hands. The idiots simply watched me.

"Well then, Horned Men," I said, "Meet the Wu Tang Clan."

The look of confusion on Big One's face was classic as I raised my weapon to my shoulder. A three round burst erupted from the barrel of the firelance, the bullets pinging through his armour before ripping into his chest with wet thuds. He tottered on his feet for a second, as if to move towards me. A bloody gasp later, and he fell forwards, landing on the ground hard and most certainly dead. A fitting end to a bastard, I felt.

No time to waste however.

I turned my firelance on the next target to the left, before the man could react. Another three bullets ripped into him, as a blinding flash from behind me followed immediately by a thunderclap confirmed Armen's involvement in the combat. The horse reared in fear, whining, but stayed put as all directions were cut off with some form of fighting.

The bandits were divided without their leader. The more grizzly looking ones charged at me like madmen, weapons raised and roaring like animals. The others turned and fled, deciding that facing off against us was not going to be a profitable venture. Probably because I just killed two men in as many seconds without any effort at all. Funnily enough, the would-be cowards had the right idea.

I dispatched the next three from left to right with no trouble at all, the victims of my fire tripping over themselves as they fell with fatal wounds, centre-mass. Chainmail and leather doesn't stop bullets in the slightest. The feeling of a complete and easy victory washed over me, the buzz of battle distracting me. It almost got me killed.

I sent bursts chasing after the fleeing bandits, killing another two or three of them. My blood was well and truly up, and I had no intention of leaving witnesses to my capabilities walking around. I had failed to notice the two sneaky fucks with daggers charging me from the right, well outside my peripheral vision. Fortunately, I had a guardian angel.

The first I knew that there was anyone behind me was the sound of a handcannon going off. Three shots. I turned quickly, firelance raised. I lowered it quickly.

Two bodies fell to the ground barely two paces from me, bloody wounds sprouted on them. The bandit behind had two holes in his chest, and the nearer one was missing a significant piece of his head. Both had branches with leaves strapped to them by netting, in a primitive camouflage. I turned on the spot, and found Julie a little further behind, my handcannon in her hand and pointed around.

She was shaking a little, but stopped as soon as she noticed that I was watching. She lowered the weapon quickly, and brushing a curl of hair out of her face.

"Good shot," I said, to reassure her, "When did you take my pistol?"

"Just before you got off the cart," she said, holding it out, "Sorry." I thought about rebuking her, given how dangerous the thing was, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I found her in such a bad situation that I wanted to protect her almost by instinct. I sighed for a moment, and rubbed my temples.

"It turned out well, so I forgive you," I replied, taking the weapon from her, "I'm just surprised you were able to get it working, or that you could shoot them so cleanly." Cleanly meaning accurately, not without mess. Flying metal tends to make things unclean.

"I learned from watching you shoot at Armen at the river," she said, cheering up a little, "I only need to see something once to remember it, and I remember everything." My eyebrow raised at that.

"A photographic memory..." I said, "That's quite a skill."

"It's not always a good thing," Julie replied, "I remember bad things perfectly too."

To be honest, I should have guessed that my new favourite blacksmith had an ability like that. Being able to read an entirely new script in mere hours, after having translated it herself, is simply too abnormal. It was only one aspect that made up Julie's pitiless intelligence, which would serve her well in the years to come. Having realised this, I made a decision.

I gave her back the handcannon.

"If you know how to use it, then keep it," I said, "There's a box full of them that I can use instead... As long as you know where the safety is."

"I do," smirked Julie, accepting the gift, "I'll keep it hidden, too."

"Good idea," I said, as the other two approached, "I'll teach you how to maintain it later."

I turned to find Tam was covered in blood, as was the dagger in her hand. No doubts there that she had opted for the close-quarters fight, as opposed to relying on her bow. Probably for the reason that had almost cost me my life; she could not have killed everyone with her bow before they charged her down. Bows aren't fitted with bayonets, as you can imagine. I shuddered at the sight again. I wasn't ever sure whether I was attracted to her or terrified of her at this point in our association, and one could turn to the other with alarming quickness. Okay, that's a lie, I was still overwhelmingly attracted to her. It's not like I hadn't seen a woman kill before. It was simply the nature of the fighting that was different. More personal.

Armen on the other hand was arching electricity between the head and base of his staff, ready for another discharge. He looked around, and seeing no bandits left alive, grounded the lightning and resumed his casual gait. He approached, picking his way through the dead with a still-alert Tam in tow. I snapped the bayonet off of my firelance, and slung it again, waiting for his comment.

"I see you were not exaggerating," he said, "Most of them just wanted out as fast as their legs could carry them."

"Most of them didn't get away," I remarked, with a glance to the fields where the runners had taken hits to the back.

"I doubt they expected you to start shooting lightning bolts at them either," Julie added, finding a good spot for her new pistol on her toolbelt.

"Don't forget the firebolts," said Tam flatly, finally putting away her dagger.

"They didn't expect you to be armed with that either," Armen said, pointing at Julie's belt and ignoring the Qunari's comment.

"No, they certainly did not," smiled Julie.

"We should get moving," said Tam, "No doubt someone heard the noise."

"Somehow, I don't think they'll come running," Armen said to her, "People who can summon fire and lightning? They'll leave that sort of thing to the Templars, who are far from here."

An idea occurred to me, looking at all the dead people around us. One that would see us moving along a little faster.

"Well, since we have the time," I started, "Let's check these ones, maybe they have something useful we can sell."

The others looked between each other, and agreed without a word. Tam and Julie began rifling through the pockets of those who had been caught close to the wagon, the latter taking Big One's two-handed axe. So now we had four extremely lethal individuals rather than just three. Armen and myself wandered to check on the others that had gotten a little distance away before I had shot them. The radios proved more than worth their weight in gold, as we were all able to speak despite being apart.

"The Maker is pleased with us," declared Julie, as I turned over one of my victims, "The fils de pute here has a big bag of gold and silver. I guess we weren't the only people he stopped."

"Good, do you think it's enough for a horse?" I asked, having no idea how much a horse was worth in either world.

"A horse, a new cart, silk frills on a dress," she replied, "They must have been doing this for a while. I recall rumours of bandits up north, something about them avoiding taxes and robbing minor nobles. I guess we found them."

"Then we have done Orlais a great service," said Tam, not a hint of sarcasm leaking into her tone.

"That we have," said Julie cheerily, "And to the victors, go the spoils."

"An attitude I can get behind," added Armen, "Unfortunately, the others seem to be devoid of anything useful, apart from some bad wine."

I rifled through the pockets of yet another bandit, finding nothing. His chainmail was rusted, not even worth the trouble of ripping off and selling later. I stood up and rejoined Armen, who had found nothing either on two others that had seemed far more promising from a distance to me.

I nodded in the direction of the cart, and the elf walked with me back the way we had come.

"By the way, I must ask," he said, "Wu Tang Clan?"

I let out a laugh, reliving the line I had given the bandits. I amuse myself a lot, I think. With others, it's hit or miss.

"I introduced us like that, because the Wu Tang Clan ain't nothin' to..." I began.

Armen gave me a blank look, and I shut my mouth for a second.

"What?" asked Julie by radio, "Nothing to what?"

"Never mind," I chuckled, "It would take too long to explain." Like many other things.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Reference packed chapter, because it had to be done.

I'll be working on the next BF2183 chapter, but don't expect too much of a delay.

As always, if you read it, review it. Even if you thought it was unworthy.

5 Coloured Walker: The game is basically just what we do in Ireland anyway, albeit without the rules. Also, nitpicks are welcome. Whether or not I get around to fixing them is up to the gods though.

great northern one: If you're referring to the Warden, AKA the Hero of Fereldan, AKA the player character from DA:O, I have decided on the details there, as the canon to be established actually matters a lot to the plot of this.

If you're asking if a Grey Warden will join the party, I have no concrete plans for that as of yet. It might fit for another arc, but I haven't fleshed that out yet.

What the Hero of Fereldan did knocks over a few dominos that reveal more about Hunt and his role in Thedas. I might be persuaded to spoil it a little, if enough people ask, if only because that part of the story is very far off and might not make the final cut.