Grass... G... Gate, Ground, Glass, Goat... Guilt...
The farmers had goats. He wondered what had become of them. Someone would go and feed them, would they not? But with the blight coming they might be forgotten. They were only animals. Would they go in search of food if no one came or would they wait for their masters to return to them? Wait patiently until the darkspawn came and killed them all.
Grain, Garden, Gold, Gossip... the irritating chatter of people with no purpose other than discussing those that do. Giant... he had heard this word spoken around the village but had not yet determined its meaning.
Guest, Glove, Goblet, Gray... the color of his hair. No, that was wrong. It was called 'white.' Gray was a similar but darker, the color of an old person's hair, of clouds before rain.
Grey... Grey Warden...
The Grey Warden had spoken to him, had shown respect and manners he was not used to receiving in this land. They had talked of the blight and spoke of atonement. To follow a bas, unthinkable for a member of the Berasad, but he was no longer of the Barasad. He was nothing.
Glove, Girl, Group, Goblet, Grief...
They were all dead. Killed at the hands of the darkspawn. Such a thing he would not have thought possible, had he not seen it with his own eyes. Now, he understood the Arishok's concern. He had thought the tales of blights were simply an exaggeration. How could such creatures destroy all? Perhaps the human lands but not Par Volen, not everything. Now he knew better.
Gift, Gang, General, Growl, Guess... he was not sure what that meant but if forced to make an answer he would say a humorous expression. Game...
Perhaps the Grey Warden was only playing with him. It had been some time and in truth it was doubtful the priestess would simply allow him to leave. His life was forfeit and he accepted that. But while he was no longer of the Barasad, he was still a warrior and there were battles that must be won. He was already dead, but if he could take some of these creatures with him...
Growl, Grin... a ridiculous expression usually on the face of a fool. Glory, Grace, Green, Great... Greatsword...
That is what they called the type of weapon he wielded. It was gone, lost somewhere in this miserable country. He had lost everything here. But to simply lay down in this cage and die. No. He still had some strength left and if given (Give...) the chance, he would use it.
Good, Goodbye... another word for farewell, said when one leaves you or you leave a place. Yes, he was ready to leave this place.