"Son of a bitch!"

Dean was out of ammo and that meant he was going to have to resort to using the sword Vaelyn had given him, not that he was bad with a sword, but it was so much less efficient then his pistol. Once again he can't help but wonder how the hell he ended up here. Oh, that's right, it was the freaking angels again. Cas had managed to get a message to him, it had been fuzzy and hard to understand, something about alternate dimensions mixing with a spell gone wrong. Well, whatever it was it had sent him into a freaking world straight out of video game or a book. He'd woken up in a snow covered field in the middle of nowhere with nothing more then the clothes on his back and the weapons he usually kept on his person. He'd wandered around and run smack dab into a pack of disgusting looking monsters, the likes of which he'd never seen before. He'd managed to kill some of the smaller ones before a giant one charged onto the field. He'd nearly shit his pants at the sight of the drooling horned behemoth. Just before what he now knows was an ogre, got to him, a bolt of lightning had shot through the air and distracted it. More lightning had followed and then battle cries had rung across the clearing as a band of people charged at the ogre. He wasn't sure what had shocked him more, the fact that these people where wearing armor and wielding swords and other medieval weapons or that the lightning had come from the hands of a short woman who ran straight at the ogre totally unafraid. And then, even more shockingly, that same woman had been the one to deliver the killing blow, jumping through the air and stabbing a sword through the creature's eye. Watching her kill the thing had distracted him, and it nearly cost him his life.

The roar of charging hurlock brings Dean back to the present and resumes doing what he does best, killing monsters. His chain-mail tunic chafes his shoulders painfully, but it doesn't stop him from swinging his sword at the genlock trying to flank him. If only Sam could see him now, decked out in full on armor, complete with a winged helm. Sam would laugh at him, hell, he keeps laughing at himself.

"Dean!"

Wynne's strained cry instantly grabs his attention, he looks her way to see the old woman trying to fend off some shrieks. Then he sees why she's desperate, she's trying to protect Vaelyn, who is lying motionless with a knife sticking out of her back behind her. He doesn't hesitate to make his way over there, killing anything that gets in his way. Lyn has to be alright, she just has to be. He owes her his life.

Wynne sees the fear flash across the young man's face but it is quickly replaced by the look of grim determination she has become used to seeing. Dean keeps the darkspawn at bay so she can heal Lyn as best she can for the moment. A genlock rogue had snuck up behind her and Lyn had thrown herself in front of the creature's blade, knowing she'd have a better chance of survival thanks to her armor then Wynne would dressed in wool robes. Stubborn young woman, always risking her life for her companions. Wynne would love to lecture Lyn to not take so many risks but she knows it would be futile. Until recently Lyn had been the most stubborn person Wynne had ever met, but now there was Dean, and that young man was vying for the prize.

After the fight in the clearing there had been some tense moments, or so Wynne had been told by Leilana. Lyn had brought Dean back to camp and it wasn't until he was eating supper with them that they noticed something was wrong. His skin had started to pale and suddenly he couldn't seem to sit upright. Wynne had inspected him despite his protests, and discovered that he was bleeding heavily from a wound in his side and he'd been contaminated with the taint. What had followed was a crash course in Ferelden lore and the purpose of the Grey Wardens. Given the choice of dying from the taint, or possibly dying from the Joining, Dean had taken the latter. And by Andraste's grace he'd survived.

Dean had been with their "band of misfits" as Lyn likes to call them, for about a month now. He'd fit in amazingly well, quickly making friends with Oghren and Shale. He always treats Wynne with respect, Morrigan however was a different story. His apparent dislike for witches paved the way for him to make friends with Alistair, which seemed to amuse Lyn to no end at first.

"Lyn!"

"Woof!"

As if Wynne's thought of the young templar had conjured him, Alistair arrives with Dane in tow, dog and man equally covered in darkspawn blood. Both men and the hound easily dispatch the last of the darkspawn. Wynne finishes her healing spells and feels Lyn begin to return to the waking world. As the last healing spell finishes it's job, Lyn begins to stir.

"Ugh... how long was I out?"

The young woman pushes herself up off the ground using her elbows until she has enough leverage to gingerly move into a sitting position.

"Only about five or ten minutes. That is what you get, however, for doing such a foolish thing."

Lyn gives Wynne an eyeroll and lifts a gauntlet covered hand to make a dismissive motion in response. The elder mage lets loose a frustrated sigh before getting to her feet. Lyn carefully rolls her head from side to side in an attempt to figure how restricted her range of motion will be until she's completely healed. The wound in her left shoulder twinges when she stretches to the right, it hurts, but not enough to make her think about slowing down.

"You know, that's what you get for procrastinating."

Alistair's amused tone causes Lyn to look up at him and blink owlishly.

"I have no idea what you mean."

That was a lie, she knows exactly what he means, and it doesn't help that he is right either. If Lyn had just gotten her good set of armor, Cailan's old armor, repaired when it just had some small dents and dings she wouldn't be in this mess now. She'd procrastinated and waited until the last minute to send her armor to Wade to get repaired, so that by the time it arrived he was swamped and it would take him a week to get to her armor. So she'd been wearing Leliana's spare set of leather armor, which was not nearly as protective as her usual set.

"Uh huh, sure."

Lyn knows that if she glanced up she'd find Alistair giving her one of his classic one eyebrow raised looks. Those looks used to make her insides do a neat little flip, but at this moment she was too busy thinking about how much effort it was going to take to stand. Lyn takes a deep breath to steel herself and starts to get up when suddenly a gloved hand shoves itself into her vision. Startled, she grabs it without thinking, and lets the owner of the hand help her get up. Once on her feet Lyn glances up and meets Dean's green eyes with her brown ones. For some reason she feels like blushing, and then she realizes she's held his hand just a second too long. She quickly tries to cover up her awkwardness by checking to make sure she has all her weapons. Only once she's composed does she glance back up at him.

"Thank you."

He just gives her one of those nods, that conveys so much more then words could, as a reply. Lyn gives him a quick smile in return and then starts walking, the others quickly fall in behind her.