*DISCLAIMER: this is a product of Bioware, and pure fan fiction on my part. Hope you enjoy.
The major characters are coming into play now, please leave a review (yes, who can be bothered but please? Pretty please? Go on . . .) I will try and update every week, but fell behind with this one due to DA II. Don't even pretend you guys aren't shitting fireballs for that game as well (;
This chapter rook longer than usual, due to ALL THE DAMN DIALOUGE. You people have no idea how many times I replayed each conversation. I am so thoroughly sick of Cailan's voice.
We will be travelling north to the ruin of Ostagar, on the edges of the Korcari Wilds. The Tevinter Imperium built Ostagar long ago to prevent the Wilders from invading the northern lowlands. It's fitting we make our stand here, even if we face a different foe within the forest. The king's forces have clashed with the darkspawn several times, but here is where the bulk of the horde will show itself. There are only a few Grey Wardens within Ferelden, but all of us are here. This Blight must be stopped here and now. If it spreads to the north, Ferelden will fall . . .
-oOo-
Nordja looked up at the great ruin of Ostagar. The ancient blocks of whitewashed stone still gleamed in the sunlight, despite the weeds and the moss growing over everything. He had heard legends of this fortress when he was a child. Built by the lowlanders to keep the Chasind in the forest. In reality, nobody had manned it in centuries, but it still had an air of majesty to it. Nordja felt his heart skip a beat. He could look past the ruin, and see the power of this place. To his right, the tower of Ishal rose high into the clouds, like a spear into the heavens. He could've wept.
'Ho there, Duncan!' called out a man in elaborate, gleaming gold armour. Blond hair, soft features, easy smile. A lowlander fop. If he hadn't just spoken, giving away his accent, Nordja would have pegged him as Orlesian. On the journey north, Duncan had explained to him that a 'King Maric' had driven them out thirty years ago, but apparently their culture had a lasting impact. Pity.
'King Cailan? I didn't expect a-a' Duncan stuttered, taken aback.
'A royal welcome?' the king finished his sentence for him, grasping Duncan's hand and grinning like an enthusiastic child.
Not a bad comparison, thought Nordja.
'I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun!' he continued. Nordja remembered something along those lines, in his father's last minutes. He pushed the memory aside.
'Not if I could help it, your Majesty' Duncan replied, gaining some composure.
'Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all! Glorious!' he announced, turning to the side, facing his guards like the Sun God.
By the Lady, was he posing? Now Duncan was joining in. Nordja resisted the urge to vomit. Surely this man was not in charge?
'The other Wardens told me you've found a promising new recruit; I take it this is he?'
Oh bugger thought Nordja. He stepped forward, and tried not to think of all the scathing remarks he might slip past this fool. He grinned. Duncan saw the warning sign.
'Allow me to introduce you, your Majesty' Duncan intervened.
'No need to be so formal, Duncan. We'll be shedding blood together, after all. Ho there, friend! Might I know your name?' he asked, with the same easy grin he refused to drop. Sickening.
'Nordja, Majesty' he grunted, just avoiding eye contact. He decided to drop the snark when he saw Duncan glaring at him over the king's shoulder.
'Pleased to meet you! The Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers, and I, for one, am glad to help them.' The king said, fawning over the Wardens. Duncan looked embarrassed. The king's guard had their faces hidden in their helms, but they didn't say anything. They must be used to it.
'I understand Duncan found you in the Wilds! What was it like growing up there?' he continued, oblivious to the pained expression on Duncan's face hovering behind him.
'It was difficult, at least before the darkspawn attacked my clan, and killed my father' he spoke straight-faced. 'Now there is nothing.'
The fool king looked stricken, having walked right into Nordja's trap, and stammered his reply; 'All I can suggest is that you vent your grief against the darkspawn for the time being.'
'I intend to, Majesty' Nordja replied, contemplating the bloody slaughter. Oh yes, he thought. There will be blood.
'I'm sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies.' Cailan spoke now to Duncan, giving him a conspiratorial wink.
Nordja resisted the urge to gag. The king had ruined Ostagar for him. Bastard.
'Your uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week' Duncan cut in, trying to remind the king subtly that this was, y'know, war. Nordja wasn't surprised to see this plea fall on deaf ears.
'Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory. We've won three battles against these monsters and tomorrow should be no different!' he exclaimed. He seemed ready to burst in excitement.
Nordja couldn't resist a dig anymore.
'You sound very confident of that,' he interrupted. It's almost as if you care more for your legend than your country
'Overconfident, some would say. Right, Duncan?' King Cailan laughed.
Damn. Interrupted again.
'Your Majesty, I'm not certain the Blight can be ended quite as... quickly as you might wish' Duncan spoke, soft as ever.
'I'm not even sure this is a true Blight. There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, we've seen no sign of an Archdemon.' He was pouting now. It was sickening.
'Disappointed, you Majesty?' Duncan asked.
'I'd hoped for a war like in the tales! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god! But I suppose this will have to do. I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens!' With that he turned and left them.
Was he leaving? He was! Nordja tried to keep his face blank but a grin lit him up like a bonfire. May he never meet that man again. Death first.
Duncan turned to him; 'what the king said is true, they have won several battles here.'
'Yet you don't sound very reassured' he pointed out
Duncan gestured at him to keep walking, and explained 'Despite the victories so far, the darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day. By now, they look to outnumber us. I know there is an Archdemon behind this. But I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feeling.'
Lovely. Our fates in the hands of that man-child. Nordja looked at Duncan.
'You could if he were not such a fool' he spat.
'You must not speak of the king so. He is... over-eager, perhaps, but he is also one of the few Grey Warden allies' Duncan retorted, sternly for once. 'Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. We must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference.'
Loghain, Loghain . . . ah yes, Duncan mentioned him before; he had led Maric's armies against the Orlesians. And Cailan seemed to be running away from him, which could only be considered a good thing. And he had the majority of the army. Nordja liked him more and more.
'To that end, we should proceed with the Joining ritual without delay' spoke Duncan, bringing him out of his reverie.
'A hot meal might be nice, first' said Nordja. He'd been living off of roots and berries since his clan perished. The Korcari was an unforgiving mistress.
'I agree! We have until nightfall to begin the ritual. Every recruit must go through a secret ritual we call the Joining in order to become a Grey Warden.' He paused, studying Nordja's face intently. 'The ritual is brief, but some preparation is required. We must begin soon.'
'Why is this ritual so secret?' Nordja asked. Duncan's grave tone had piqued his curiosity.
'The Joining is dangerous. I cannot speak more of it except to say that you will learn all in good time. Until then, you must trust what is done is necessary.'
'Wonderful. Let's get this over with, then.' He was thoroughly tired of this place already.
'Feel free to explore the camp here as you wish. All I ask is that you do not leave it for the time being. There is another Grey Warden in the camp by the name of Alistair. When you are ready, seek him out and tell him it's time to summon the other recruits.'
Nordja nodded, ready to carry out the orders at a run.
'Until then, I have business I must attend to. You may find me at the Grey Warden tent on the other side of this bridge, should you need to.'
And then he turned and left, leaving Nordja standing on the great bridge. He turned and gazed at the view. Stunning.
He crossed the bridge and looked upon the king's camp. A stunning array of brightly coloured tents, gaudy as hell.
Lowlanders he thought, contemptuously.
-oOo-
He decided to try to relieve the king of a few trinkets. It was only fair; the man's company had been horrendous. Unfortunately he was stopped by a guard, and turned around. He learned that the tent opposite was that of the Teyrn. He was stopped by a guard once again. These lowlanders had odd ideas concerning their lords. A thane would have greeted everyone who approached, as was custom. The lowlanders simply had abysmal manners, it seemed. And they called him barbarian.
Nevertheless, he could not in good faith leave without making sure that someone in charge knew what they were doing, so he requested an audience. It was granted.
The man that walked out of the tent was everything he was hoping for. Not a painted fop like the king, not a well meaning but weak man like Duncan. This was a man Nordja could happily put his faith in. His tired eyes spoke of many years fighting, and his stature was not bent by his years. Nordja would have pegged him as late thirties, even though he knew the man was well into his fifties.
'Yes, what is it? Ah, you are Duncan's new Grey Warden I assume?' His voice was like gravel, his gaze defiant. He would have made an excellent thane.
'Not yet, Teyrn, for now I am Clayne without clan' he replied.
'Nevertheless, you impressed his majesty; he could not contain his excitement over your arrival.' The Teyrn seemed bored. Nordja would be fed up of listening to Cailan prattle on about the Wardens too, day in, day out. Loghain had his sympathies.
'Cailan's fascination with the Wardens goes beyond the ordinary. Are you aware his father brought your order back to Ferelden?'
'No, Teyrn. The clans in the Korcari still think the Orlesians rule the lowlands. I am told I have you to thank for driving the bastards out?'
He grinned. 'I worked hard for six long years getting those bastards back across the border. But it wasn't just me. Maric was the force that kept us all together. Without him, I would have been just another poacher.'
Humble. Strong. Unyielding. Why was this man not king? He would be a much better choice, surely?
'Now I must return to my task. Pray that our king proves amenable to wisdom, if you're the praying sort.'
Now it was Nordja's turn to grin. 'There aren't enough Gods in the heavens!'
Loghain snorted. 'He is Maric's son, and the leader of my beloved Ferelden. And a very young man, as I try to remind myself. As should you.'
'I'll take my leave of you, Teyrn. Good luck with your battle.' Nordja bowed and left, as the Teyrns iron-hard eyes bored into him.
-oOo-
He wandered around the camp, trying to integrate into lowlander society as painlessly as possible. It did not go well.
After coming to blows with two soldiers after getting into an argument with them over whose Gods were real. Lowlanders where touchy with religion, it seemed. When they realised he worshipped Korth the Mountain Father and the Lady of the Skies, they had drawn swords, screaming 'Heathen!' and tried to arrest him on the spot. He didn't have time to draw his sword, so he simply grabbed their helmets and slammed them against each other, knocking them both out. He strolled away, whistling merrily.
Trying to keep a slightly lower profile, he surveyed the Wilds beneath him. These were the outskirts of the Korcari, the edge of his home. If he should die in the battle, he had asked Duncan to scatter his ashes within its boundaries. He sighed. Time to find Alistair.
-oOo-
He found him in an argument with a mage. Content to find out what sort of man he was dealing with, he studied his replies carefully.
From what he gathered, the mage was intentionally causing stress over a message Alistair had been sent to deliver. Another Chantry victim. He would be working with this one though, so he kept his mouth shut. The mage was leaving, and Alistair waltzed up, the same easy smile on his face that Cailan had worn. He had none of the smugness, however.
'Y'know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together'
Nordja shook his head. Weird.
'Wait, we haven't met, have we? I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?'
'No, worse that that' he replied with a grin.
'Ah yes, you must be the Chasind that Duncan recruited, it's a pleasure to meet you' he grinned, and then paused, looking on in horror as Nordja growled at him.
'Chasind? Chasind?' He spat the word 'Never, never call me that again,' He fell back into his normal tone; 'and we'll get along just fine.'
'M-my apologies' he stammered. 'But I thought he recruited you in the Korcari Wilds?'
'He did. I am a Clayne tribesman. The Chasind are less than dogs. They are rats' he seethed inwardly at the accusation. He paused, lowered his head and sighed. 'Tribesman no more, the darkspawn overran my clan and slaughtered them all. Had Duncan not pulled me away, I would have died there. I . . . I apologise. It was an innocent mistake to make, my reaction was cruel. Still sore over the loss of my father.' He smiled sheepishly. 'Do you forgive me?'
'Its fine, I know what its like to lose a family' his eyes took on a faraway quality. 'shall we collect the others then?' he said, straightening up.
Nordja nodded his approval, and they set off.
-oOo-
Daveth struck him as a Chasind; he had the look of a thief and a liar. Which he freely admitted to. Despite his roots, he seemed more down to earth than anybody Nordja had met so far.
Ser Jory was . . . a mistake on Duncan's part. Though he professed to have skill with a blade, he had the look of a cornered rabbit. He would not last long. Still, thought Nordja, he seems a decent enough man. Just not fit to fight.
They returned to Duncan's fire, to receive their orders. Daveth thought they would be entering the Wilds, to Nordja's approval. Jory blanched at the thought. Alistair refused to give hints. He was Duncan's man, loyal to the core, it seemed.
They gathered round the fire, and Duncan relayed their orders.
'You found Alistair did you? Good. I'll assume you are ready to begin preparations. Assuming of course, that you're quite finished riling up mages, Alistair?'
'What can I say?' he replied. 'The revered mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt, they should stick her in the army.'
Duncan berated him, and Alistair apologised.
'Now then' he said, turning to the recruits; 'since you are all here, we can begin. You four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks. The first of which, is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit.'
'What do we need the blood for?' Jory asked, face paling.
'For the joining itself' was the reply. 'I'll explain more once you've returned.
'And what's the second task?' asked Nordja.
'There was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls were left behind, magically sealed to protect them. Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can.'
Alistair nodded.
'Find the three vials and the scrolls, got it' said Nordja, stepping back. 'We'll go right away.'
He was eager to go back into the forest. He missed it, even after only a few hours.
Duncan nodded. 'Watch over your charges, Alistair. Return quickly, and safely.'
'We will' he replied.
'Then may the Maker watch over you. I shall see you when you return.'
'Korth guide our steps' Nordja added.
With that, he set off back into the Wilds, his home. And home to many things besides him.
special thanks to Arsinoe de Blassenville, who helped me get past the error message. that evil, evil error message.
