Dragon Age Chicago

A Retrospective pt I

A Retrospective pt I

The bolt veered wide of its intended target, striking a tree mere yards away from a passing townswoman who barely gave it a moments consideration before carrying on.

“Bloody hell” mumbled the old man with the crossbow sitting up on the roof.

“I will get that damn bird someday… Damn maleficar…” he uttered to nobody in particular.

The nobody in particular standing next to him on the roof was a small girl who wore a look of both serene patience and boredom as she waited for him to continue his story.

“Grandpa, you were telling me the story about your bracelet?”

The old man’s attention slowly returned to the moment.

“Ah yes… The bracelet haven’t been able to get it off my arm since I put it on all those years ago which is a shame as I could have sold it for another fortune…”

He paused to collect his thoughts

“Where was I… Ah yes… The blood of the blacksmith was still flowing hotly from the slain blacksmith…”

“Grandpa! You’ve told me about the blacksmith a hundred times!!! I know you and your ‘friends’ went off into the wilds to find the demons where you met that Maleficar of a Mage…”

“Don’t say his name Millicent… His damn birds… His idea of a joke…” The old man shuddered briefly recalling another joke involving a bag of cats.

“Did I get to the part where we rescued the elf maiden’s clan only to realize that the demons had already headed to town to extract there revenge?”

A tired nod was his only answer.

“I know I did not tell you of the fight itself. The town was horribly beset, villagers slaughtered, buildings burned and only myself, the elves, the Maleficar and Gideon stood in between them and utter destruction…”

“I can’t believe you don’t want me to mention the mage’s name, yet you have no trouble mentioning him of all people: The Red Hand of Redcliffe… " interrupted the girl yet again.

“Child, do you wish for me to tell you more of how the fight went? How the terrorist known as Sniper found his bloody inspiration at the hands of a Demon and won his bride? How we eventually went on to cross paths with Caephus the Fallen himself?”

He paused for a moment and reloaded his crossbow, detecting the telltale flutter of wings that only he could seemingly hear anymore.

Damn Maleficar… Him and his ‘jokes’…

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