He sat at the bar with a mug in his hands, trying to decide if he should drink or not. It seemed a bit rude to start before the one he was waiting for arrived, but he needed the drink, even if he was dead. A hand of long, elegant bones entered his view, and he looked up to his host, who nodded silently, empty eye sockets twinkling with a light deep within, and pointed to the door where a man of average height but more-than-average presence had just entered. He nodded and flipped a sovereign - or at least, the memory of one - onto the bar, then turned and walked to the new arrival, holding out his hand in welcome.

"Good to see you again," he greeted as they shook hands firmly. "Wasn't sure when you'd get back."

The other man chuckled softly, sunglasses hiding his remaining eye, if not the scar that ran through the other one, as he handed his huge sword to the creature whose job it was to maintain the peace in this rather odd establishment. "Yes, well, I had to make sure they actually figured out how to get rid of Sin the right way. Kids." The two men shared a glance of silent, understanding camaraderie. "Besides, you know I always get to spend more time with my little herd than you do." He grimaced. "More's the pity. Especially when they laugh." He shuddered.

The first man laughed boisterously as they went to sit at their game - simple checkers in this case, one of the few games everyone who frequented here seemed to know at least one version of - and began to set the discs for play. "I recently returned myself. Last time it was a cocky young dwarf girl with pigtails trying to make sure her sister wouldn't get hurt because of her own missteps. This time..." He tugged at his earring, forehead furrowing. "This time it was a young... ah, lady from Highever with an interesting speech pattern who kept trying to get her hands on my sword before we reached Ostagar."

The other man's single eye flickered to the weapon-keeper. "I've never seen your sword. I didn't think you had one."

He groaned. "Not that sword," he said, then added, just to make sure the man understood, "the other sword. The one that, I hope, you still have." He studied the pieces before him, then made his first move. "Sadly, my blades always end up stuck in some ogre. I just hope this one bought the DLC. I'd hate for them to stay there."

The other man blinked, then grunted. "Interesting. Well, I should count myself lucky I never had to deal with that." He freed his arm from its normal resting place in the sling of his tunic and reached forward to respond accordingly, pushing his piece in counterpart to the other's move.

The man raised a dark eyebrow, emphasizing the lines in his forehead. "What? Sword grasping from Rikku or DLC?" He reached out and jumped a disc, taking one of the man's pieces before settling back in his chair and taking that long-sought-after drink, draining the mug in one gulp. And if I never hear the phrase bee tee em ever again, I will remain happily dead.

The man shook as his head as he took a sip from his jug of nog that never left his side, much to the skeletal bar owner's discontent, though his white skull couldn't show the frown. "Both. Too bad I never get to meet Paine." He took a deep sip, then made his own move. "The differences between our lots in life fascinate me, even if, technically, I am dead while I'm there. I go back each playthrough wondering only how many times I will fall in battle and how much time will be spent on matters of only negligent importance to the ultimate goal of defeating Sin. I never have to worry about who I'm going to meet, or what they will choose to do." He watched the man across from him closely, waiting for his next action.

"Oh, don't remind me," he groaned, running a hand back to his tight queue. "After a month of trying to... well, of traveling to Ostagar, the first thing she did was try to drag the King off to a tent. The King!" He eagerly took the new mug full of alcohol, dropped off by their black-cloaked host, and drained it in one gulp. "And he agreed!" The mug landed on the table with a bit more force than necessary. "No wonder the battle was so poorly planned," he groused. "And Maker preserve Ferelden, that such as she became a Warden. I hope Alistair took my warning seriously."

The other man's eyebrow rose, waiting for his friend's fit to pass. "Hopefully the next one will at least treat you with a trifle more respect than this one apparently did."

The Warden shook his head and pinched his nose with a heavy sigh. "It doesn't matter, I suppose. As long as the Archdemon is killed, I shouldn't care who does it." Taking up yet a third mug, nodding in acknowledgment to the host, he muttered under his breath, "Hopefully she'll be able to do it without breaking a fingernail." He reached out and blindly moved a piece, trying to push his latest recruit from his mind.

Across from him, the ronin drank more of his nog, concealing a rare smirk. "At least I got to fight this time. Last time it was Rikku and Lulu, every battle, all the time." He shook his head. "And many, many restores. Poor Lulu. Her back was sore after all that leaning over." Rolling his eye, he reached forward and jumped one of his opponent's pieces. "So, hoping for a nice straightforward warrior next, I assume?"

"Maker, I hope so." The room stirred slightly as a tall man with dark hair entered, adjusting the fit of his head on his neck ever so slightly before handing his weapon over. "Ah, so she made that choice. Interesting, considering that she claimed Anora was her best friend."

The man turned and watched as the dignified man spotted them and headed to their table. "Well, Tidus fights Sin even after learning that it's really his father. Sometimes the end result is more important than who you fight along the way."

The Warden didn't have a chance to acknowledge the words as the old general came to a halt next to their game and collapsed into a nearby chair. "How on Thedas a child like that came from Bryce and Eleanor is beyond me," he said in a weary voice. "Hopefully she treats the Archdemon with a bit more respect than she did the Landsmeet." Absently he accepted the drink handed to him by their skeletal host. "Though at least she arranged for Anora's future. That was... unexpectedly thoughtful of her."

*Duncan!*

The hollow, empty voice echoed through the enclosed space, sending a shiver up all of their backs. The Warden looked over to their host, who now stood next to the portal that only he controlled. "Astonishing. She killed Archie," he murmured. Standing, he exchanged a quick handshake with Auron and Loghain. "Until next time," he said gruffly, receiving a nod in return from each.

Approaching the one who had summoned him, he said, "I am ready."

The light deep within those hollow sockets flared. *Excellent.* The skeletal hand in its black sleeve swept to the portal. *Better luck this time.*

Taking a deep breath, Duncan stepped forward. "Thank you."

A flash, a breath, and he was standing in a study with Irving and Greagoir, again listening to their argument about mages in Ostagar. Hopefully a calm, studious mage, this time. A nice, normal young recruit would be... a change.

He sharpened his gaze as someone entered the room, and he felt his jaw drop slightly as a thin elf entered with short, vibrant and, above all, purple hair above his newly minted mage robe.

Closing his eyes for a few moments, he thought to himself, He still can't be as bad as the last one. Taking a preparatory breath, he opened his eyes and began it all over once more.

"Gentlemen, please! Irving, someone is here to see you."

.

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If you like this concept and want more, let me know. Otherwise, I'm labeling this as random brain meanderings...