Bananacave
banana_cave Auntie wandered across this as she was tidying up the bookshelf and it appears to belong to you my dear, enjoy!
Alistair's Destiny
Alistair slipped away to the village, hoping he wouldn’t get caught by the Templars. He just needed to get away from the Chantry for one night. One night to forget his life of religious servitude, one night to maybe … do something fun?
He didn’t try to pretend he’d do that particular something fun. Though a grown man now, he’d spent his childhood and teen years being told that the Maker would smite him, at the very least, for doing it. He wasn’t so sure he believed that anymore. He wasn’t so sure he even believed in the Maker some days, which was why he was having such difficulties in his training to be one of the Chantry’s knights. Still, best not to tempt fate for the sake of one night in an amorous woman’s bed.
He wandered the village, glancing at the shops and vendors, many of them closed or closing for the night. He could go into the tavern, but he didn’t have much of anything that was actually his that he could trade, and he didn’t have any money on him. He could see some beggars lining the street, people talking about the current state of the kingdom in hushed tones, others talking about the Templars in both positive and negative lights.
He’d seen the good and the bad of the Templars, most of the bad coming from the life they had to leave. It wasn’t for him.
“No it isn’t,” said a woman from a dark alley.
“No it isn’t … what?”
“The life for you,” she said. Alistair turned to get a good look at her, or at least, he attempted to. The shadow of the nearly moonless night at the two buildings on either side of where she stood didn’t help matters much. To make it worse, she wore a dark cloak, the hood pulled over her hair, leaving only a few small wisps of gray hair to poke out at the sides.
“Was I talking out loud again? I sometimes do that, but I didn’t think I did it. I usually know when I do.” Alistair was aware he didn’t always have a filter to keep what was going through his mind up there, just like he couldn’t filter the thoughts he wanted to express before they actually escaped from his lips.
The woman smiled. He couldn’t make out her entire face, but he could definitely make out teeth. “I have been given a gift.”
“Presents are always wonderful things,” he said, suddenly wishing he were back at the Chantry. Maker, that had to be the first time that thought had ever gone through his mind. “I hope you enjoy it.” He tried to back away from her, thinking he might be able to charm his way into an ale at the nice, fully lit bar instead of a dark, dank passage between two businesses. Though, there were some flaws in his plan. He had been told, and saw the evidence himself, that he wasn’t all that charming. Mostly awkward. Awkward probably wouldn’t get him a drink, maybe thrown in his face, but not down his throat.
Still, the brightly lit portion of his plan sounded like a winner.
“You won’t take your vows,” she said. “You will never be a Templar.” He looked down at what he was wearing. There wasn’t anything about them that looked like he was a Templar-in-training, so what had given him away? “You still do not understand what I mean when I say I have a gift.” She said this with a sigh. “You will be prevented from taking your vows. For greater things.”
“As long as those ‘greater things’ aren’t to meet the Maker, I’m fine with that.”
“They aren’t, necessarily,” she said, then stared at him for a moment. “You aren’t going to ask me what they are?”
“Um, no, actually. Because, to be perfectly honest, you creep me out,” Alistair said.
“And yet you stay,” she said, still smiling.
“I have never claimed to be a genius,” he replied back. He shifted a little, hoping that he might be able to see a little more of the woman’s face, but he had no such luck.
They had what amounted to a staring contest for a few moments before he finally broke down. “What am I destined for?”
“A great plague will spread across the land, but the potential for great friendships, maybe more, exists within your future. You will fight alongside at least one of those that you were told to defeat. You will be hunted down by some and respected by others. You will know betrayal and pride for your efforts and pride in your party. A destiny that others have been trying to keep from you, one that might terrify you, will present itself to you. You do not need to be a leader, but you easily could be. Your final destiny could mean a life of adventure or early demise, all depending upon your choices.”
She looked at him with a smug smile on her face. He stared at her for a few minutes more, then finally threw his hands out and exclaimed, “What on earth is that supposed to mean!?” Leave it to some insane woman in a back alley to tell him some vague gibberish about his future. He’d heard about such tricks before. If a “fortune teller” kept it just vague enough, it could guarantee it applied to anyone. He just didn’t know if it was commonplace for it to be so convoluted.
“It is no wonder you do not claim to be a genius Alistair. Just make sure that you do at least one thing right. When you meet Duncan, do your best to impress him. Your future depends on it.”
Alistair rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I’ll remember that.”
“I should have found the other Grey Warden,” the woman said, practically vanishing into the shadow of the alley and out of Alistair’s sight. It was only after she’d gone that Alistair realized she’d called him by name.
Alistair's Destiny
Alistair slipped away to the village, hoping he wouldn’t get caught by the Templars. He just needed to get away from the Chantry for one night. One night to forget his life of religious servitude, one night to maybe … do something fun?
He didn’t try to pretend he’d do that particular something fun. Though a grown man now, he’d spent his childhood and teen years being told that the Maker would smite him, at the very least, for doing it. He wasn’t so sure he believed that anymore. He wasn’t so sure he even believed in the Maker some days, which was why he was having such difficulties in his training to be one of the Chantry’s knights. Still, best not to tempt fate for the sake of one night in an amorous woman’s bed.
He wandered the village, glancing at the shops and vendors, many of them closed or closing for the night. He could go into the tavern, but he didn’t have much of anything that was actually his that he could trade, and he didn’t have any money on him. He could see some beggars lining the street, people talking about the current state of the kingdom in hushed tones, others talking about the Templars in both positive and negative lights.
He’d seen the good and the bad of the Templars, most of the bad coming from the life they had to leave. It wasn’t for him.
“No it isn’t,” said a woman from a dark alley.
“No it isn’t … what?”
“The life for you,” she said. Alistair turned to get a good look at her, or at least, he attempted to. The shadow of the nearly moonless night at the two buildings on either side of where she stood didn’t help matters much. To make it worse, she wore a dark cloak, the hood pulled over her hair, leaving only a few small wisps of gray hair to poke out at the sides.
“Was I talking out loud again? I sometimes do that, but I didn’t think I did it. I usually know when I do.” Alistair was aware he didn’t always have a filter to keep what was going through his mind up there, just like he couldn’t filter the thoughts he wanted to express before they actually escaped from his lips.
The woman smiled. He couldn’t make out her entire face, but he could definitely make out teeth. “I have been given a gift.”
“Presents are always wonderful things,” he said, suddenly wishing he were back at the Chantry. Maker, that had to be the first time that thought had ever gone through his mind. “I hope you enjoy it.” He tried to back away from her, thinking he might be able to charm his way into an ale at the nice, fully lit bar instead of a dark, dank passage between two businesses. Though, there were some flaws in his plan. He had been told, and saw the evidence himself, that he wasn’t all that charming. Mostly awkward. Awkward probably wouldn’t get him a drink, maybe thrown in his face, but not down his throat.
Still, the brightly lit portion of his plan sounded like a winner.
“You won’t take your vows,” she said. “You will never be a Templar.” He looked down at what he was wearing. There wasn’t anything about them that looked like he was a Templar-in-training, so what had given him away? “You still do not understand what I mean when I say I have a gift.” She said this with a sigh. “You will be prevented from taking your vows. For greater things.”
“As long as those ‘greater things’ aren’t to meet the Maker, I’m fine with that.”
“They aren’t, necessarily,” she said, then stared at him for a moment. “You aren’t going to ask me what they are?”
“Um, no, actually. Because, to be perfectly honest, you creep me out,” Alistair said.
“And yet you stay,” she said, still smiling.
“I have never claimed to be a genius,” he replied back. He shifted a little, hoping that he might be able to see a little more of the woman’s face, but he had no such luck.
They had what amounted to a staring contest for a few moments before he finally broke down. “What am I destined for?”
“A great plague will spread across the land, but the potential for great friendships, maybe more, exists within your future. You will fight alongside at least one of those that you were told to defeat. You will be hunted down by some and respected by others. You will know betrayal and pride for your efforts and pride in your party. A destiny that others have been trying to keep from you, one that might terrify you, will present itself to you. You do not need to be a leader, but you easily could be. Your final destiny could mean a life of adventure or early demise, all depending upon your choices.”
She looked at him with a smug smile on her face. He stared at her for a few minutes more, then finally threw his hands out and exclaimed, “What on earth is that supposed to mean!?” Leave it to some insane woman in a back alley to tell him some vague gibberish about his future. He’d heard about such tricks before. If a “fortune teller” kept it just vague enough, it could guarantee it applied to anyone. He just didn’t know if it was commonplace for it to be so convoluted.
“It is no wonder you do not claim to be a genius Alistair. Just make sure that you do at least one thing right. When you meet Duncan, do your best to impress him. Your future depends on it.”
Alistair rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I’ll remember that.”
“I should have found the other Grey Warden,” the woman said, practically vanishing into the shadow of the alley and out of Alistair’s sight. It was only after she’d gone that Alistair realized she’d called him by name.