Tranquility

by Konous the grey

The Rite takes away many things: it takes away our emotions, our desires, our dreams, even our Magic. What it does not take away are our Memories and our Identity. Those are unchanged. -Owain

2. Follow The Rules

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, it is owned by Bioware, and published by EA, but most all written by David Gaider and his team, this is just an homage to the world he gave us.

Tranquility Chapter 2

Follow The Rules

Dawn, standing outside The Spoiled Princess, waiting for Duncan to collect their horses from the stable. Alim keeps his eyes on the sky, half sure it will disappear, but knowing that it is just the jarring sense of being in an unfamiliar environment.

One where his memories do not appear in front of his eyes and act themselves out like plays. He is on new ground, territory that he is paving out as goes, leaving images of himself in the flow of time. Wynne and Uldred were both staying silent. Standing in between the two of them, Alim is very aware that Gregoir had ordered the two Mages to act as his leash while he is being taken to Ostagar.

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"No, I forbid it! This Tranquil has endangered the lives of everyone here at the Tower, our Mages and our Templars. I will not release him Duncan." Gregoir, after having been woken and rejuvinated by the Mages, had all but ordered that Alim be taken to the dungeons in the lowest sections of the Tower. The Templars seemed ready to jump in at a moments notice for his command to do just that.

Duncan was all that stood between them and the elf. The Warden Commander crossed his arms. "Knight-Commander my duty is clear. I require a Warden, this Tranquil has proven his resourcefullness, his dedication to his friends, above all else, that he desires to stop the Blight. My decision is final."

Gregoir paces back and forth clenching his gauntleded hands. "Fine! But he is your charge now, Warden. When he betrays you and your order, you'll regret having ever met him." The Knight Commander turned his eyes on the elf and glares, then turns about. "I will also be taking Wynne and Uldred with me, as well, correct?"

Gregoir did not face Duncan as he spoke, but stared into the doorway. "I will send for them." He gestures to one of the remaining Templars. "Find the Senior Enchanters Wynne and Uldred, bring them to my office, I would speak with them before they leave." Then, Gregoir turned about and looked Duncan with one eye. "Walk carefully, Warden Commander." And disappeared into the Tower Halls.

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Were it that awkward tension could affect a Tranquil, the telepathic glares that Uldred and Wynne are shooting each other over his head, while dually staring straight ahead at the inn would have made any normal man fidget and perspire. No, Alim stands between them like a statue, even as Duncan steps out of the inn with the proprieter with four horses behind him. There is no surprise in his eyes. "Well," Duncan says, the smile on his face over powering the grimness of his three companions. "Shall we be off?" The three nod, and set on their horses, off to Ostagar.

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Evening, the ride had not been unpleasant, despite the long distance, there seemed little that the four companions wanted to talk about. The constant bucking of his horse as it walks is starting to cause aches in his side. As they get off their horses Duncan explains the nature of The Blight. "The last Blight was four hundred years ago, in the Tower Age. Most people believe that all the darkspawn have been killed." The Warden Commander ties his horse and the other three to a tree and gives them grain to eat. "The reality, though, is that they've been biding their time, building their horde up again for the next Blight. Even while they are marching here on the surface, a great number of them are always under ground. I'd argue that what we see top side, even during times such as these, is but a fraction of their true numbers."

"Why do the darkspawn not march en masse if they already have such numbers?" Alim follows the Warden Commander, watching the man's every step and the smooth gait which signifies the man's skill as fighter.

Duncan frowns. "That is something I have wondered for sometime, especially after I had the opportunity to travel the Deep Roads, before the Blight erupted." Duncan sits down by the fire constructed by Uldred, as Wynne stirs a stew made of vegetables and two rabbits that the group encountered on the road. "There is reason for me to believe that the Darkspawn, horrible as they are, cannot function without an over arching entity to govern them. Perhaps, in their twisted way, the creatures require a thing to think of as God, in order to justify their acts of cruetly and violence. But I have other theories as well, that perhaps the Archdemon is as much a tool to the Darkspawn as the Darkspawn are tools to it. That perhaps the Taint itself, which binds them, is an entity that we are not aware of."

Alim stares into the fire. "The Taint is an entity unto itself?"

Duncan nods. "According to the Chantry lore, the Taint which the Darkspawn carry, is the same as what corrupted the Golden City. The inherent sin of humanity."

Alim nods. "So they say, but it is your people that have doomed the entire world to destruction."

Duncan chuckles. "Perhaps, though the dwarves say otherwise. Regardless, the monsters themselves are merely a vehicle to transport the poison. They are beasts, but they are cunning, and driven to their master's call."

Alim nods. "As are we all."

Uldred snorts. "Paugh, the Chantry's drabble and lies to submit the people."

Wynne stops stirring and sighs. "Uldred, must you go on a tirade? I've been enjoying the silence."

Uldred sneers at the old woman. "Really Wynne? I couldn't tell, with the way you've been projecting your displeasure for being here." Uldred turns to the elf and Warden Commander. "People say that Blood Magic can control minds, but the ire of a woman, mage or not, can be felt for miles."

Alim pauses and looks at the night sky. "There is something to that. I remember when I dropped one of Solona's possessions, a hand mirror, and broke it. She told me it was fine, but I felt

a stabbing pain for a couple days afterwards."

Wynne shakes her head. "That is just guilt, Alim. Solona would never have done something so...heinous." She pulls out four bowls and pours out the stew with a spoon.

Uldred laughs. "Oh, Wynne, your naivette is endearing, you know that?"

Alim does not bother to mention that he does not feel guilt. 'She should know this by now.'

Wynne shakes her head. "Uldred, I won't rise to your jabs. Solona was a good woman." She hands Duncan the first bowl.

The Warden Commander nods graciously and eats with agusto.

Uldred nods. "Oh, yes, good indeed, sweet Wynne. But she had power and she knew how to use it."

Alim accepts his bowl from Wynne with a nod and eats gradually.

Wynne pours herself a bowl, grabs a spoon and sits on her log around the fire.

Uldred raises an eye brow. "I'm to pour for myself then?"

Wynne blows on her stew, staring pointedly at Uldred.

"Fine," says the Senior Enchanter, grumbling as he has to pour out his own rabbit stew.

The rest of the meal passes in silence, quiet revelry for the best meal they'd had since the trip began and likely the last major one they would eat before the final stretch to Ostagar. Also reveling in the first sense of peace the group felt since the trip began and the tension relieves if only because the confrontation happened sooner rather than building to a larger explosion later on.

Uldred yawns. "I think, Commander, Alim, I shall tuck in for the evening. The final watch being mine, I intend to get a good night sleep."

Duncan nods. "Very well Senior Enchanter. Do not worry, I will take the majority of the watch. We Grey Wardens have very little want of sleep." He stands up from the campfire.

Wynne douses the embers and logs with a cold wind. "I wish you both a good night. Duncan, let me know if you wish to sleep. I can stand watch too, you know."

Duncan chuckles. "It is not a mark against you, Wynne. I truly would prefer to get as little sleep as possible."

Wynne grins at the Warden Commander. "Oh there are ways I could help with that, if you'd allow me." For a moment Duncan seems caught off guard, his stance a bit askew and tilted, then he regains his composure and smiles at Wynne. "I am, flattered you would thinks so, but truly, it is best if I am not distracted. Perhaps another time, Senior Enchanter."

Wynne chuckles. "And people say I'm a fuddy duddy. Very well, Duncan, I wish you a good night." Wynne turns to Alim, she says "Good night," then a look intro the Tranquil's eyes reminds her of the vacancy of the entity traveling with them. She stops, bows her head and shakes it lightly as she turns around, walks to and climbs into her tent on the far side of the camp.

Duncan turns to Alim. "Well, I suppose I will go on patrol. This path is a bit more sylvan than I had anticipated."

Alim tilts his head. "I do not think these trees will attack you, Warden Commander, they have no spirits inside them."

Duncan chuckles. "No, I mean...was that a joke?"

Alim stares.

Duncan stares back.

Alim stares.

Duncan stares but frowns lightly at the lack of answer.

Alim stares.

Duncan blinks. "Well, either way, I will be around, Alim. You may rest easy, and I suggest you do, before the trip ahead."

Alim nods. "I will be here, meditating," The Tranquil says, grabs his greatsword and sits in front of his tent. "When I am done, I will not need many hours, I would like to train, if you're search yields no danger."

Duncan raises an eyebrow, then nods with a grunt of approval. "Very well, but you will have to find me, Alim," The Warden Commander says, and fades into the shadows of the trees.

Alim closes his eyes, and surrounds himself like a blanket in the noise of the forest. This is the first time he hears the continuous life that he'd been surrounded by as a child. Like a symphony of music made from the surrounding life, Alim hears the noise, and connects it all together around him. Roving wolves, pecking and calling birds, bats, and the cicadas letting out their dirge before the onset of winter. Everything wants to stand out, to add to the noise, like a new instrument building to the crescendo. That is why when Alim hear the soft, snap snapping, to his left, he is instantly aware of its source, like a badly missed note at the end of the climax.

He is up, his greatsword in his hands, and swings about at the offending noise. behind the tree line on his left, Duncan had gone the other way, which meant that the snapping was done by something or someone else.

A soft shifting, cracking of the branches, a form moving on top in the shadows.

"Identify yourself!" Alim points his greatsword at the form. It moves through the branches, back into the deeper sections of the forest. He stares into the gaping maw of the forest line, the dense foliage and shakes his head. "I am to guard the camp, if it returns, I will be ready."

Alim moves back to the center of camp, and gets into a ready stance with his greatsword, once again bathing himself in the noise of the surrounding forest.

Then he begins to dance. One swing, a foreward step, a second swing, step sideways, a turn about followed by another swing. Horizontal cut and duck, followed by a round about stab up, as though skewering his foe through the neck. Step back up into his original stance and then, he starts the dance again.

He does this for another hour until a voice in the trees. "You are quite agile with such a massive weapon." Duncan's voice does not end the movement or disrupt any action, on the part of the elf.

Alim looks at Duncan. "Was that you earlier, Duncan?"

The Warden Commander frowns. "Me? What do you mean?"

The Tranquil looks about the camp. "I sensed an intruder earlier, I was worried it might have been darkspawn, but it did not attack. I'd assumed it was you for sometime."

Duncan shakes his head. "No, that wasn't me. But I wouldn't worry, I do not sense the darkspawn near here. Whoever it was, likely was more afraid of you, than you were of it. But, back to my original point, you are quite skilled with a greatsword."

The Tranquil nods. "I have had three years to study with the Templars and learn their techniques. While I could never learn their abilities, their martial training was invaluable."

Duncan nods. "And you seemed to have learned a great deal from them, but it seems to me that there is something off in your style."

Alim steps foreward and swings. "Much like my facial expressions, what I learned from Cullen and the other Templars was learned primarily through imitation."

Duncan scratches his beard. "Indeed. Well, while imitation, it certainly is a good one. There is something else though to your technique. You are adding a freedom of form, a melding between stances as you swing. There is little distinctive action that does not seem to move into another." The Warden Commander crosses his arms. "It is as though you are trying to be both a Rogue and Warrior."

Alim spins about and cuts an imaginary foe from the ground up and holds the blade in place. "I spent much time, outside of my enchanting time, and combat training, to master the techniques of stealth and subterfuge."

"There are some who would take offense to your blatant imitation."

Alim turns to the Warden Commander. "You do not approve?"

Duncan snorts. "Hardly that. I merely think that you require more training with a proper Rogue, rather than trying to pretend that you learned to be stealthy amongst men in clanking armor."

Duncan picks up a greatsword of his own from his traveling pack. "Now these are not my specialty, I'm much more partial to a longsword and dagger." He levels the blade at nose level, feet facing the Tranquil. "The Nevarrans are much more proficient as a people with great weapons than we are, most of their Rogues are known to swing greatswords with the same ease as their Warriors. But such techniques are not common to Fereldan, we have very few dragons to deal with in our lands, current circumstances the exception of course." The Warden Commander does an upward swing and spins about with it, holding it with both hands in front of him. "And, unfortunately we don't have the dragon slayers to demonstrate such forms, but I know a few things." Duncan gets into a stance, holding his greatsword behind him, high over his head.

Alim nods and imitates the same stance.

Duncan steps forward and swings down.

Alim blocks.

Duncan steps back and then swings again, his feet sliding wide underneath him.

Alim tries to block the same way, but Duncan pulls the blade back quickly and throws some quickly grabbed sand at the elf's eyes. Alim is caught back for a moment, holding his sword and rubbing the sand from them.

When he opens them again, Duncan's sword is at his neck.

The Commander pulls the blade back. "Now, that, may have seemed unsporting and I understand if you're angry with me."

The Tranquil shakes his head. "I cannot feel anger. What you did was an acceptable maneuver. Do you use it often?" His eyes are stinging, and he can feel the tear ducts watering and dragging the sand out of his sockets.

"As often as I need to, which, given the opponents I've had to fight in my time, many and varied, I've had much need to use it."

"But there isn't always sand to provide such easy distractions."

"No, there isn't. I'm glad you noticed that." Duncan pulls out a bag from his side and pours the contents out, brown sand falling onto the forest floor. "Fighting dirty, using quick distractions is the first part of being a Rogue. We do not fight fair. When you're life is on the line, you will find that there is little you will not do to keep it, and you must always be prepared."

"Perhaps for you. I feel no such anxieties."

Duncan frowns. "That needs to change. I cannot convince you to love life or to seek its infinite mysteries. But you are a Grey Warden now, and till the day you die, you must pursue your life nad continue to pursue it to the utmost of your abilities. You have a new duty, not to yourself, but to the entire world. In War: Victory, in Peace, Vigilance, and in Death, Sacrifice. Our work is never done until we finally fall. Do you understand me, Alim?"

Alim nods. "I will try apply your words as a new rule to follow, Duncan."

The Warden Commander smiles. "I'm glad to hear it, Alim." He returns to his ready stance, holding the greatsword at level. "Now lets continue." They practice amongst the trees for several hours. Eventually the sound of rustling cloth and a flapping tent signals Uldred's rise. The Magister yawns and takes his place next to Duncan and Alim. "Gentlemen."

"Senior Enchanter." Duncan nods.

Alim stares.

"I've come to relieve you, Duncan. You may get some sleep, now." The Warden Commander sighs.

"I was starting to think I could go a night without sleep. Very well." Duncan turns to Alim. "If you'd like to keep practicing on the way to Ostagar, I'd be more than happy to show you what I know."

The Tranquil nods. "That would be most beneficial, Duncan."

Duncan sighs. "Very well, I will see you both in a few hours." He walks a dead man's walk to his tent, crawling in with a severity and almost lethargy of one who truly hated rest.

Uldred's eyes follow Duncan every step of the way and when The Warden Commander dissappears beneath the flap he turns to Alim.

Who is staring at him already.

Uldred steps back and shakes his bald head. "Ah, you my boy are a true practitioner of subtle scares."

Alim blinks. "I'm sorry, Enchanter Uldred. I did not mean to frighten you."

"Quite fine, my boy. Have you gone to bed yet? I seem to recall even you needing sleep." Alim shrugs. "I find that I require it less and less sometimes, there were disturbances around the camp. I've already gotten what meditation I need. I can rest more once we get to Ostagar." He pulls out his greatsword and starts swinging.

"You set a standard much too high, my boy."

Alim stops his swinging and returns his gaze to his old teacher. "Only because others taught me it was best. Was there something you wanted Senior Enchanter?"

"Did you really try to bring down the Tower, Alim?" Silence. Not something Alim prone to employing, but Uldred can hear the hesitation in the Tranquil's breath and his movements.

And while still able to make greater choice than most of his kind, perhaps due only to his sheer willpower, Alim feels compulled into answering Uldred. "Yes."

Uldred nods. "I see. I never doubted it, I merely wanted to make sure with my own eyes and ears." He stares into the shadows around the camp, taking in the noise as Alim did earlier. He closes his eyes and begins to hum to the noise of the insects in the night. "You see, when you experience the wonders of the outside world, and taste the reality of life outside The Circle, you would slowly start to hate the Tower more and more, if you were just a regular Mage." He peers as Alim with one open eye and smiles at the elf. "But you were born outside the Tower, Alim, you had distinct and powerful memories of life outside of it."

Alim looks around at the forest, the lush green grass beneath him has a bounce to it. "This place is nothing like the home I remember."

The Senior Enchanter squints at the elf. "Your home?"

The Tranquil does not answer.

Uldred shrugs. "Very well, I shall not pry. I give you that much respect, my boy."

Alim nods. "I am aware, Senior Enchanter."

Uldred frowns, but presses on. "All that aside, I'm just curious, why did you want to bring the Tower down?"

Alim is still silent as his old teacher rambles about his state of life.

"No sense of empathy anymore, eh? That's what you were trying to show Gregoir. Not that the fool would listen to anything sensible, he's only just better than that fanatic Meredith. You would have been executed in a heart beat by that woman."

Alim nods. "I am already aware, Senior Enchanter, of my 'luck'" Alim rolls his tongue on the last word.

Uldred chuckles. "Perhaps, but what I'm trying to let you know, Alim, is that I understand." The Enchanter opens his other eye and turns to the Tranquil. "They toy with our lives and they mark and brand us like cattle. It's time someone spat in their eyes, and I couldn't have been happier to know that it was you."

The Tranquil is silent again.

"While I've post poned any uprisings, for now, with our new support from Teryn Loghain, the Mages of the world will finally get their chance to shine. Alim," Uldred says his voicing becoming solemn. "Your sacrifice, and what you've done for Mages will not be forgotten. You've given us the tools, for when this Blight is over, the world will finally know the horrors we go through. Alim. I will not let your sacrifice be in vain, my boy."

Alim stares at Uldred, and swings his greatsword again, cutting into the air. "First, Senior Enchanter, I agree on your point, it is time someone spat in the Templars faces." The elf turns to him. "But, I will contest, no you do not understand. Only once you are like me, and Owain, you will not. You cannot." The elf holds the greatsword at the Enchanter, his eyes are blank.

Uldred steps back.

Alim pulls his greatsword back and resumes his singing. "Lastly, it was not just my sacrifice. There were four others who shouldn't have had to undergo the Rite." A massive two handed downward swipe.

Uldred shakes his head at his old apprentice. "That, Alim, was not your fault. We had a leak some where. I'm inclined to think it might have been Jowan."

Alim stops swinging his greatsword, dropping it on the blade, breathing heavy. "Jowan would not have told anyone about our meetings." A crunch of the leaves behind the Tranquil gives him pause, and he steps forward to check the bush. A rabbit gingerly hops out of the bush.

"It's just a rabbit my dear boy." The Senior Enchanter chuckles.

Alim returns to the Enchanter's side. "Jowan was close to me, to all of us. We all swore oaths, even Solona. Those that followed however, may not have been of sturdier material."

Uldred paces back and forth. "Perhaps, I know we tried to recruit Anders, but he refused. While he made many half assed attempts at escape he was ever the leash follower as dear Wynne." Uldred stops then turns back to Alim. "I'll admit, there were potentially a few possible leaks, but my bet is still on Jowan.

Alim shakes his head. "If there is so much potential doubt in your hypothesis, on what then are you basing your accusations?"

Uldred shrugs. "Gut instinct? The boy was always a little wormish. He fell for that chantry sow, did he not?"

Alim stares. "Then you have no actual basis for your accusations."

Uldred raises an eyebrow at the elf. "You have a better idea?"

Alim swings his greatsword again, the rush of air around him picking dust from the trail. "Solona."

Uldred blinks. "You can't be serious."

Alim spins and swings his greatsword about in a circle, flinging the dust about him. "If Jowan is suspect, then one must consider everyone else, and of the entire group, Solona's actions were always suspect and ployful."

Uldred frowns. "You mean, you think she made herself into an abomination on purpose? Why?"

Alim is silent, he stops his swing and holds the blade out at length fourty five degrees from his shoulder.

The bald Mage shakes his head and stares at the ground. "You think," he says looking up at Alim. "Did she do it to avenge them Tranquilizing you?"

Alim lets the sword fall back to his side and lets the blade rest on the ground, breathing in heavy breaths. "Perhaps. But, that comes into conflict as to why she would have told the Templars about our meeting."

Uldred looks at his old apprentice. "Jowan was the most prominent one in my mind, that he would have told the priestess."

Alim turns to his old teacher. "Lily came two years ago, after I was Tranquilized."

Uldred puts his hand to his chin. "And there it is, so then the next best possible person was Solona, but it makes no sense! Why would she rat you, you of all people, out to the Templars?"

Alim pauses and looks down. "I do not know. I prefer to think that it was fluke chance that they found us and that, yes, she did turn herself into a monster to avenge me."

Uldred scratches his chin. "You prefer?"

Alim nods. "I do. My memories stabilize my perception of this world. If my memories prove unreliable, my perception is as equally unreliable."

The Enchanter chuckles. "Truly, it amazes me that you have hung out as long as you have. Memory dims over time Alim, and sometimes we change it to suit our needs or desires. You will not be able to rely on it forever."

Alim nods, pauses, then straps his greatsword to his back. "I think I shall go return to my meditation. I will see you at dawnbreak, Enchanter Uldred."

The Senior Enchanter nods in turn. "Good night, Alim."

The Tranquil walks off into the dark. In passing the tree where from the rabbit leapt, Alim looks behind to check the ground around the pine. There is a soft spot of broken grass, perhaps about the size of a large dog or a mabari or kneeling human. Alim enters the camp and checks the tents of both Wynne and Duncan in passing. Both are lying, Duncan fitfully, in their rolls. It is darkness around him, again. He resides once again at the log, standing, his greatsword at his side. He has no fear of shadows, for whatever resides in them is just as belind as he. Save for his ears, which note the movements in the bushes ahead of camp. The elf moves silently to Duncan's tent. "Master Duncan."

The Warden Commander jolts awake. "What is it, Alim?"

"We are being watched."

The Warden Commander bolts up and grabs his longsword and dagger, rolling out of his tent and into a full fighting stance in less than a second. His longsword in front and his dagger reared back, Duncan stalks about the camp with Alim following suit.

"In the trees, the bushes up ahead. Are they darkspawn?" The elf grips his greatsword tighter. The scraping noise of wooded soles and falling bark surrounded them, just as before.

"No, they are not. They are mortal, but I don't understand why they're here...?"

"They?" The elf inclines his head. "Alim!" A red flash and the explosion of a massive fireball signaled Uldred's call for help.

"Alim, Duncan!" Wynne climbs out of her roll and pulls to bear her Enchanter staff. "Where is Uldred?"

"We seem to be under attack," The Tranquil says, moving off to aid the bald Enchanter. Duncan runs off following behind.

Wynne keeps pace, huffing and puffing, running with her staff. "Attack? By whom?"

"We are not under attack," Duncan shouts. "Uldred must have seen one of our visitors and panicked. We have to get to him before it's too late!"

The old woman casts Rejuvination on herself, and fights to keep up with the two men. "Too late for what? For them to kill Uldred?"

Alim shakes his head. "I think not, the man is a fiend of primal and spirit magics."

The Warden Commander pulls ahead of the two of them. "It is not him I am worried about, it is the Dalish he will kill!" Duncan bursts through the folliage and onto the scene, Alim and Wynne trailing him.

Ahead is a scorched earth, the ground misshapen with a massive crater, and the surrounding trees burnt to a crisp. Uldred is standing his hands alight with flame, glaring at a troup of Dalish elves, their weapons poised and ready to strike, an old woman at the center of their group, her gnarled wooded staff swirling with protective energy around her and her fellow elves.

Uldred turns to Duncan. "Ah, Warden Commander, we've been spyed on by the Dalish!"

"Stop, by all that is just in the world stop this foolishness, Uldred!" Duncan shouts.

"Warden Commander?" The Enchanter raises an eye brow.

"Duncan!" The old woman at the center of the Dalish shield shouts out to the bronze skinned man.

"Please, everyone, put down your weapons." Duncan stands between the two groups, holding his hands out in a gesture of cease and desist.

"Put down my weapons? It's a bit difficult for me to do that, Duncan!" Uldred indignantly shouts, his hands still aflame.

"This shemlen mage of yours attacked my scouting band!" Shouts the old elf.

"I understand," Duncan says to the old woman. "Uldred, let go of your magic, Keeper Marethari, please order your elves to stand down."

The elves continue to hold their bows at ready, their Dar'missu daggers and longswords gleaming vehemently from their belts. "I am a Grey Warden, these people are traveling under my protection, I will defend them and myself if necessary."

Marethari turns to her elves and whispers. "Drop your weapons."

The elves blink and turn to the their Keeper.

"Do as I say, drop your weapons."

"But, Keeper, the Shemlen-" A bald hunter balks.

"Do as I say, Lethalin!" The old woman barks. Reluctantly, the Dalish elves drop their weapons, the few that were stalking still in the trees come out and drop their weapons to the ground, indignified, but trusting in the wisdom of their Keeper.

Duncan turns to Uldred, who douses the fire in his hands, and cross his arms. Wynne walks up to the Senior Enchanter and casts a healing spell on an open wound on his neck that at first hesitates to close, then, as though released from duty, the blood returns to the source of the hole in Uldred's arm, which closes completely. "Why did you panic, Uldred?"

"They snuck up on me, surprised me. One of them fell out of a tree and pointed his daggers at me, cut me." He points to his arm, which did indeed look scarred by a blade.

Alim walks up to Duncan. "You know these Dalish?"

Duncan nods, and strides forward toward the Dalish troupe, with Alim in tow. "Yes, I need to have a word with their Keeper. This is not their usual hunting ground." Out of the troupe walks the old woman, the tall bald Dalish hunter beside her, a lean man with a massive great bow on his back and two Dar'missu daggers on his belt.

The old woman waves at Duncan. "And here I thought I might never see you again, old friend."

Duncan chuckles. "Not yet, Keeper. The Blight is upon the lands, I cannot go so quietly into the Deep Roads."

The old woman smiles. "It is good to see you, Duncan, though I wish it were under better circumstances."

Duncan nods. "And you too, Keeper Marethari," The Warden Commander says, turning to the side to introduce Alim. "This is may recruit, Alim Surana."

Keeper Marethari turns to Alim and nods. "Well met. Are you one of the Circles Mages?"

Alim pauses and nods to the Keeper. "I was one, yes Keeper. I am one of the Tranquil Mages." The Keeper pauses at Alim's monotone voice. "Permit me, Da'len, but your voice, and your face, there is something odd..."

"I have been cut off from the Fade, stripped of my magic by the Circle, as well as my emotions, Keeper."

The old elven woman's eyes light up and turn to Duncan. "Is this true, Duncan?"

Duncan nods to the old woman. "It is indeed, young Alim here was taken three years ago by the Templars to be stripped of his powers and branded for the rest of his life for the practice of Blood Magic."

The old woman nods, but feels no shock at Alim's crimes. "The Blood Magics are not forbidden among our kind, though they are frowned upon in initiates. Most are not able to handle the Power of Life."

Duncan nods. "A truth, Marethari." He points to the symbol on Alim's forhead. "It is that mark by which the Templars remove a mage's power."

The bald hunter steps forward. "Your shemlen Templars strip an elvhen of his gifts given by the Creators and his feelings?" He shakes his head. "Does your people's cruelty know no end?"

"Theron!" Marethari snaps at The Hunter.

"I apologize, Duncan, this is Theron, our clan's most prodigious hunter." The Keeper frowns at The Hunter.

The bald man, bows his head. "I did not mean offense to you Keeper." He bows in turn to Duncan. "Or to you Warden Commander."

Duncan nods. "It is quite alright, Keeper. I agree, Theron, it is a brutish practice, but even those stripped can find meaning in life, and Alim here is proof of that, otherwise I would not be recruiting him."

Alim turns to Theron. "I would say in these circumstances that I am proud to serve the Grey Wardens."

Theron inclines his head at the smaller elf. "But you do not feel pride?"

Alim shakes his head. "No I do not."

Theron bows. "You live a half life, da'len, but you do not break, Vir Bor'Assan."

Alim bows his head and then looks at the hunter. "I have adapted. I promised I would never submit."

Marethari squints at the Tranquil. "You look familiar actually, your face reminds me of..."

Alim turns to the Keeper. "My father was a Dalish Keeper, his head was bald."

Theron blinks at the elf. "You are Dalish?"

Marethari steps forward and looks at Alim with wide eyes. "You are Zathrian's child! Your face has his long chin, and you have his forehead, if you don't mind me saying."

Alim stares and then blinks twice. "I had never thought to dwell on my fathers forehead, he had no hair to tell where it ended."

Marethari laughs and puts a hand over her head. "Oh you'd be surprised. He wasn't always bald, in fact when he was younger he had a mop of brown hair, just like yours." She rests on her staff a moment and turns to Duncan. "If I may, I'd like to talk to you, and that one," she says nudging her head toward Uldred, who was still scowling at the old woman with his arms crossed. "In private, there are things you need to know."

Duncan scratches his beard and turns to Marethari. "I would like to think you refer to the Blight, but, I assume you mean something aside from the incoming Darkspawn invasion."

The Keeper nods. "I do, Duncan. It's why my people had to leave the Brecillian forest. Please, we must talk in private about this."

Duncan nods. "Very well, Keeper. I will do as you ask." Duncan turns to the Tranquil. "Alim, you and Theron inform the other elves that we will be sharing this land for camp."

Alim raises an eyebrow at The Warden Commander. "Sir?"

Duncan turns to Marethari. "I assume your convoy is just near here?"

The Keeper nods. "That is correct, Duncan. Now, shall we?" She gestures to the side with Uldred and Wynne. Duncan nods and then nods in turn to Alim.

Alim turns to Theron. "Would you like to speak to your clan?"

Theron nods. "I would. You are welcome to come da'lethalin." He walks to the gathering of elves huddled in mass.

Alim follows Theron with a silent step. "I would. I would also like to inquire about your culture, if you would educate me. I am curious to know about my father's people."

The two elves stand before the Dalish Hunters. The elves are standing uneasy, shifting from side to side, eyeing the new elf coming with their clan's most talented Warrior.

Of the group, a woman steps forward with a staff and jittery hands. "Ah, Theron!" The elf runs forward.

"Merrill." The tall elf nods as she slides into place in front of The Hunter. "Alim this is Merril, our Keeper's first and one of my closest friends."

"Pleased to meet you, Alim." The black haired magess bows.

"And I, you, miss Merrill." The Tranquil bows.

"Oh, don't say 'miss' Merrill, you make me sound old." The Keeper's first smiles.

A rumbling from the crowd. A hunter bursts through the many Dalish Hunters, a longbow strapped to his back. "Theron! What has happened? Why is our Keeper conversing with the shemlen?" A red haired elf with corn rows. He turns to Alim and points. "And who is this flat-ear?"

Theron scowls at the elf. "This is da'lethalin, Alim, Montow. He is a Keeper's son, taken away by the shemlen years ago, pay him respect. He is one of our own."

The red haired elf looks down at his feet. "I-no you are right, Theron." The Dalish looks up at the Tranquil and nods his head. "Forgive me, I spoke out of turn."

Alim nods. "You are forgiven, I feel no hate." Alim steps before the Dalish elves and speaks in a clear steady voice. "I am Alim Surana, son of the Keeper Zathrian. I was taken from my home, and my clan, when the Templars invaded our home."

Merrill turns to the Tranquil. "Oh my! Zathrian?"

Alim turns to Merill. "Yes, why?"

"He was a well known Keeper of these lands. He was old, very old, but he always looked so young. Many people rumored that he had discovered our ancient immortality..." She blinks and peers down at the little elf, squinting her eyes at his forehead.

Alim blinks at the Dalish woman. "Is something amiss...miss?"

Merrill blinks and steps back, holding her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, I was looking at the mark on your head, it's a mark I'm not familliar with. I mistook it for a vasaalin at first."

Alim nods. "I understand. It is a Tevinter symbol."

Theron grunts at that word. "A brand from the cursed shemlen empire that destroyed our home land." He turns to the Tranquil "What does it mean, Alim?"

The Tranquil turns to the elves at large and yells. "It means 'Peace.'" He turns to the Keeper's first. "They stripped me of my magic by cutting my connection to the Fade."

Merrill blinks. "But wouldn't that remove your..."

Alim nods. "My emotions."

Merrill puts her left hand on her hip and rests slightly on her staff at the right and tilts her head at Alim. "You're certainly expressive for someone without feelings."

Alim turns to the side. "I suspect that perhaps there is something to my birth which allows me more expression than most of my people, but what it was, I do not know."

Theron nods to Alim. "You have survived, da'lethalin, despite the odds. It is how we know you to be Dalish."

Alim looks at the crowd around them. "I think we should let them know about the sleeping arrangements."

Theron nods. "True, we got off track." He turns to Merrill, not quite frowning, but a very stony flat face pointed at her.

The Keeper's first doesn't flinch and giggles instead. "Sorry, can't help it sometimes. I get distracted." She looks at Alim and smiles at him.

Alim stares.

Theron sighs. "You distract other people as well, though. That's the problem." He steps forward and speaks to the other elves. "We will be sharing the forest here with the shemlen. Our Keeper has business with the Warden." A few of the elves grunt.

The one with red hair scowls in disgust. "That shemlen Mage attacked our hunters first."

Theron turns to Montow. "Regardless, lethalin, we must do as our Keeper wills. There will be peace between us," he says turning to Alim, nodding. He turns back to the other Dalish. "In form the aravels that we will rest here. I doubt we will be setting up camp. I believe the Keeper will have us moving North again, shortly. But I think she has much to inform the Warden Commander of."

The Tranquil nods in turn. "I agree. For now, we should take this time to rest and ease ourselves from tonights...misunderstanding."

The Dalish Warrior chuckles. "They couldn't take away your sense of humor, I see."

The Tranquil shrugs. "Irony is somewhat easier to perceive without personal bias getting in the way."

They spend the rest of the night till morning together, Alim walking amongst the Dalish for the first time in his life, hearing the stories of their haren, listening to the voices of other elves not born in captivity. The fire once again alight, and the faces of Dalish elves glowing in the dark morning of the forest. He is with his people once again.

And it means nothing to him, other than another sign of what he could have been, a memory in the distance which had not been born. But he still keeps his ears open for the details they give him. The fall of Arlathan, the elvhen pantheon, most of all, the Brecillian Forests new inhabitants.

"Werewolves," Haren Paivel intones, his gaunt face peering into the fire, his white hair ragged and musty from traveling on the road without rest.

"Werewolves?" The Tranquil asks, raising an eyebrow. "Do you jest, master Paivel?"

"Our Haren does not mislead, Alim," Theron reprimands. "The Werewolves are quite real."
The Tranquil looks at the Warrior. "I imagine relations with them were hostile?"

Theron is silent, staring into the fire.

Merrill turns to Alim. "Well, there were some initial skirmishes."

Theron grunts and digs his feet deeper into the sand.

"But later, they left us alone, when Marethari arranged a parley." The Keeper's First smiles at Alim.

"Parley?" Alim asks.

Merrill nods. "We found out the Werewolves were intelligent enough to converse, and that they had a hierarchy."

"Amongst them was a wolf named Swiftrunner, and he seemed to speak for his people.

They made it clear that the Brecillian forest was their home and they were its guardians. The spirit of the very forest was watching over them and Swiftrunner was its envoy."

"We couldn't defy a spirit of Nature, it goes against the will of the Creators. So, we kept our

distance and respected each other's mutual need for a home."

Alim turns to the fire. "So, they were civil at first?"

Theron nods. "Yes, then they started to change, more than before. They became…I'm not certain, what it is, but they became diseased, somehow."

Alim looks up at that. "Could it be the Taint?"

Merrill frowns. "It could have been. The decay of their fur and skin seemed in line with details following the Taint. But how did they all become Tainted, there were no Darkspawn in the Forest?"

Alim puts a finger to his chin. "The Taint is a thing with a will of its own. If it can find a way to infect, it will."

Theron digs his legs deeper into the sand. He gets up and walks away from the fire, pacing back and forth.

"Alim, da'lethalin, may I ask you a question?" Theron says as they sit by the fire.

"You may, Theron." The Tranquil nods.

"Why are you following the shemlen?"

Alim inclines his head at the Dalish Hunter. "I do not understand, I am a Grey Warden recruit, Theron. It is my duty to stop The Blight."

Theron shakes his head. "I do not mean that, I mean..." The Hunter looks about for Marethari. She is sitting with Duncan, they are laughing. Wynne sits beside them, calmly sipping tea, whilst Uldred fumes, eyeing the Dalish all around them. "I mean why do you not take a troop of Dalish, find the shemlen's secrets, and then we Dalish can deal with this threat? Leaving it to the shemlen to demand aid from us and the durgen'len is foolishness. They will take the strongest of our peoples and sacrifice them to those monsters. If such a thing happens, there will be no strong elves left to aid the clans." The Hunter looks down and clenches his fists, then releases them with a tired sigh. "It just seems as though are people are being used again."

Alim does not say anything but stares into the fire. "I have thought about this, apparently every human nation on Thedas has Grey Wardens. They're the strongest warriors of every nation and people brought together explicitly to fight the Darkspawn, and yet it is only the human nations that maintain them. It seems quite foolish for The Dalish not to have their own, or even the Dwarves for that matter."

Merrill is tossing bits of rocks into the fire, hitting the wood. "Our Keeper says the durghenlen spend almost all their time fighting the darkspawn, and that they lose many each winter. It seems like if anyone should have Wardens, it's them."

Alim frowns into the flames, then looks at Merril and Theron. "Perhaps we should start now, would you two like to join me and Duncan on the trip to Ostagar?"

Both elves look up at the Tranquil with wide eyes and then glance at each other.

Merrill begins giggling. "Oh, you had me for a second there, Alim! I don't think we'd make good, Wardens, right Theron?"

Theron though is frowning now, he glances at Duncan, then at Alim, then at the rest of his clan. He grips a dagger at his side, and the bow at his back. He gets up, paces back and forth then looks down at the Tranquil. "Do you think Duncan would allow it?"

Alim shrugs his shoulders. "As far as I know, The Grey Wardens accept anyone willing to join them, on the other hand, there is evidence to suggest that some part of the initiation is fatal."

Merrill frowns. "What makes you say that?"

The Tranquil turns back to the fire. "I had much time to read in the Tower. History was always a point of fascination for me, when I discovered the story of Garahel, I devoted my life to the idea that I would one day be as great as him." Alim pulls out his greatsword, and sits the blade into the dirt by his side. "While I no longer feel such aspirations, I must acknowledge that were it not for his deeds, I would not be where I am today."

Theron frowns. "But this Garahel was not a Dalish, Alim. He was one of the flat ears that serve the shemlen."

Alim looks up at the Dalish Hunter. "Please, do not call them flat ears. Many of them have lived in worse conditions than either I, or you."

Merrill squints at the Tranquil. "How do you know this, Alim?"

The Tranquil does not look at the Keeper's First. "I was not the only elf at the Tower. There were others, from various Alienages around Fereldan. Highever is apparently a well conditioned one, but Denerim as far as I've heard is a squalor best burnt down." The Tranquil's eyes squint into the flames.

Theron sits back down next to the Tranquil. "Even without your emotions, you cannot look at our peoples plight with satisfaction. Alim, you are an inspiration to all elves, da'lethalin."

Alim frowns at Theron. "That means 'cousin' in Dalish, correct?"

Theron shakes his hand up and down. "It's used for younger members of the clans, and as close a word as comes to it. It is closer to meaning 'little brother' or 'little sister' without a gender tied to the word."

At the first hint of sunlight, the two parties gather up their gear. The Dalish make quick work of leaving the camp, leaping into the branches of the trees and moving silently between the trunks. Theron is standing beside Alim as he gathers up his tent gear. "So you will move to the south, and face the horde at the old shemlen ruins of Ostagar?"

Alim nods. "Yes, it is to be the great staging ground of a defense against the Darkspawn." Theron frowns and shifts his feet from side to side.

"Alim, I must ask." Alim looks up at the Elven Hunter. "Would Duncan accept me in to the Wardens?"

The Tranquil puts a finger to his chin, then stands up and moves past The Hunter. "I do not know, but in all situations such as this, deliberation like this is foolishness when the answer can be obtained. I will ask."

Theron blinks as the Tranquil walks off with a dignified march toward his Commander. Duncan and Keeper Marethari are talking hushedly with Uldred and Wynne, who both have gaunt faces, staring intently at the Keeper. All four silence once The Tranquil steps into view.

Duncan steps up from the campfire and greets the elf. "What is it, Alim?"

Alim looks up at The Warden Commander. "Sir, Theron requests to join the Wardens." "Oh?" The Warden Commander looks at the Dalish across the way. Theron steps up to the two, his face set in wooden stiffness. "Is this true?"

"It is, Grey Warden Commander."

The Warden Commander waves his hand. "Please, you may call me Duncan. And I would have no problem with that, unless you have any objections?" He turns to Marethari.

The Keeper looks up at Theron with a raised eye brow. "Theron, is this what you want?" Theron nods. "It is, Keeper."

Marethari does not speak, instead she stands and walks past Duncan to her clans hunter. She looks into Theron's eyes.

"You wish to represent our people against the Darkspawn?"

Theron nods.

Marethari looks down at the Hunter's chest. She places her hand on it.

Theron winces.

"Are there any other reasons you wish to go, lethalin?" She looks up into his eyes.

Theron says nothing.

Marethari turn around and looks at Duncan. "I'm sorry, Duncan. I cannot let Theron go, he is our clan's best hunter, and if we are to go north we will need his bow. Perhaps, under other circumstances I would relent, but we lost too many of our kind to the Weres."

Duncan nods. "I understand, Keeper." He turns to Theron. "I am sorry, but I must respect your Keeper's wishes."

Theron looks down at that, his knees buckling. "I-I understand, Keeper." Theron walks away from the fire and sits back with Merrill, staring into the flames.

Marethari turns to Duncan. "Thank you for respecting my wishes, Duncan."

The Warden Commander smiles. "I could hardly take away someone so important your people, not unless it there was no other choice." He glances at Alim.

She smiles in return, then her face becomes stern. "If you can find the treaties Duncan I will call for the other clans."

Duncan nods at the Keeper and then turns to Alim. "You'd better go pack your things and say good-bye to the others."

"You must tell the King, Duncan," The Keeper says.

The Warden Commander nods. "I will Marethari, I promise."

The Keeper shakes her head. "They only grow in number while you wait. It would not do well for your army to be attacked on two fronts."

Duncan nods. "You have my word, Keeper. I will not fail you." He turns to Alim. "Are you ready to leave, Alim?"

"Yes, Commander," The Tranquil says.

"Good."

The party assembles at the road, several of the Dalish standing at a distance from it in the trees.

Theron is silent, slugging his pack over his shoulder, his bow held in his right hand, a quiver hanging off of the pack.

Merrill is standing next to him with her black staff, fidgeting on her feet. In her under arm is a book.

Alim is staring at both of them, his expression blank.

Merrill pulls the books out and hands it to Alim. "This is a book of our lore; I thought you might like to take it with you."

Alim takes the book, the brown leather, adorned with a tree, and a clasp wrapped out it. He flips through it. "Thank you, Merrill." He unclasps it, flips through, and nods, re-clasping it.

Merrill smiles, a small blush forming on her face. "Don't mention it. Oh and about earlier…"

The Tranquil looks at The Keeper's First.

"I was the one watching you earlier, in the trees. I'm sorry I scared you, but…you pulled out your greatsword and I got scared."

For a moment, The Tranquil says nothing, then a line forms on his lips. "So you were stalking me from afar, then?" The thin line grows into a shit eating grin is just as listless as any other he makes, but Merrill does not notice.

"Oh stop." Merrill's blush gets deeper and shit hits Alim on the arm. "You're quite a tease, for someone without feelings."

Theron grunts, for the two of them to finish their banter. The Hunter looks down at the Tranquil. "Be safe, Alim. Remember what you've learned, and that if you need a place to call home, The Dalish will always be open to you."

Alim nods at The Hunter. "I will, Theron."

Alim turns around to see Duncan, Wynne, and Uldred standing with their packs a small distance away looking at the Tranquil and his…friends. 'Jowan was my friend when I was a Mage, a friend when I was Tranquil.' He looks at the two elves in front of him. 'There's no reason I can't have more.' Alim bows to the two elves in front of him. "Good-bye, both of you. Thank you for everything."

The Hunter and The Keeper's First smile at their friend, and wave as he steps onto the beaten path with the Warden Commander. He falls in step with his Duncan, moving onto his future with the Grey Wardens.

"Do you think he'll be alright, Theron?" Merrill asks.

The Hunter crosses his arms. "I'm not certain. While I pray The Creators will give him reprieve, I fear Alim's destiny is one that they will mold through hardship and struggle. But I have faith that they will watch over him."

Merrill puts a hand to her chest and leans on her staff. "I hope so, Theron. I hope so."

()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Ostagar, its spiring towers and battle masts can be seen even in the distance from Alim's low vantage point. "We will hold the Darkspawn horde here," Duncan says, brushing past the dense foliage. The road at this point in the trip was densely overgrown, thanks in large part to the fortresses long disuse. "Only recently has the once proud fortress been made ready for our use. It is here that we will make our stand." The group steps out into the now clear section of Ostagar, and the sun over head is shining down on the lush forest bordered by a massive swamp below in the valley.

The sound of clanking plate armor, set at a brisk pace, and the over bearing light which shines off of him, announces Cailan Therin's entrance to the world of Alim Surana. "Ho there! Duncan!" The King of Fereldan shouts.

"Who's this bufoon?" Uldred whispers to Wynne.

"It's the king!" Wyness's hushed whisper to Uldred.

"Your majesty! I didn't expect-"

"What? A royal welcome? I was beginning to you think that you'd miss out on all the fun." The King looks into the Warden's eyes, and nudges his eyebrows lightly. Duncan shakes his head and smiles.

"Not all your majesty." Duncan smiles.

The King stand abreast Duncan at attention. "Then I'll have the mighty Duncan fighting by my side after all. Glorious!" He turns to Alim, his feet gliding with an ease of nonchalance, despite the armor he wears. "And who is this?"

"Forgive me your majesty, this is my recruit."

The King nods. "Yes, yes, the one you spoke about in your letters. There's no need to be so formal. Ho there, friend, might I know your name?"

The Tranquil can only blink as the blonde man's immaculate aura, his sense of pleasantness, and is dually incapable of missing the mask that it is. An imitation, likely of the Kings own old sense of naivette and childhood antics. As such... "Hello your majesty, my names, Alim." The Tranquil smiles at The King and lightly bows his head.

The King smiles in turn. "And my name is Cailan Therin. A pleasure to meet you, Alim." The king puts a gauntleted finger to his chin. "By your robes I'd suspect you hail from the Circle of Magi?"

Alim nods. "Indeed, your majesty. I am a Tranquil."

The King raises an eye brow, looking down and noticing Alim's robes for the first time. "Oh, my. That I had not expected, well I dare say I can already see your far more expressive than most of your fellows." He looks up and notices the greatsword on the elf's back. "And far more heavily armed it seems."

The elf nods and grips his greatsword. "I have studied with the Templars since my Rite."

The King smiles. "You'll no doubt have to show me your technique. Might I suggest the battle tomorrow? The Darkspawn are gathering for an offensive, it would be the perfect opportunity to test your skills."

Alim's grip tightens. "I look forward to that your majesty."

Duncan walks up to the King. "Your uncle sends his greetings, and wants to remind you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week."

The King shakes his head and smiles. "Eamon just wants in on all the fun. We've won two battles against these monsters and tomorrow shall be no different. There are other factors, of course. I'm not even sure if this is a true Blight."

"Disappointed, your majesty?" Duncan inclines his head at Cailan.

"I was kind of hoping for a story like in the old tales, a King riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a Tainted God. But I suppose this will have to do." The King turns about and nods. "I must return to camp, before Loghain sends out a search party, fair well, Grey Wardens."

The Warden Commander returns. "Your majesty."

The King leaves back across the giant stone bridge.

Uldred and Wynne step up. Uldred's face is indignant and sneering. "The brazen glory hound didn't even acknowledge us!"

Wynne stays the Senior Enchanter with her hand. "He was here to see the Warden's Uldred." The Enchanter crosses his arms. "Feh, as though the Mages have no significance."

"There are already plenty of Mages here, Uldred."

Alim turns to Duncan, who nods, and the two set forward as the two Mages begin bickering again. Ostagar camp is a bevy of movement. All around, Alim can hear the noise of marching troops, each bearing the insignia of banns and arldoms, places he's never been, but heard of in books.

Upon high to the right of him a priestess stands calling down the Chant of Light to the many soldiers, some ambivalent, most listening in reverence to her holy words. Alim walks past and gives neither the priestess nor her soldiers another glance. He need never hear or listen to the Chant, it is no longer a part of his life. But he hears the words all the same. "And should you fall, know that your sacrifice will not be in vain. For when we die we all go to The Maker." The nods and clapping hands repel the Tranquil and he walks down toward the Circle encampment. He sees the familliar faces of Mages from the Tower and many Templars surrounding them. Uldred and Wynne behind him pick up the pace and move past Alim.

"I will see if anyone needs healing at the medical encampment." The Spirit Healer moves off.

Uldred turns to Alim. "I think, my boy, that I shall go see to our mutual benefactor. As should you, eventually."

Alim raises an eyebrow at the Senior Enchanter. "You will be seeing Master Loghain?" Uldred nods. "Indeed. He'll want to know abou Keeper Marethari whispering to Duncan about the Brecillian Forest. They left Wynne and I conveniently away from the discussion." The Enchanter puts a finger to his chin, then shakes his head. "I will see you later, Alim."

The Tranquil nods. "Enchanter." And he moves past Uldred, closer to the Circle camp, a peaceful voice catches his attention.

"Alim Surana."

Alim turns slowly to face another Tranquil, a man with dark skin and mid length brown hair. "Kalek, it is good to see you, are you well."

The other Tranquil, standing next to a locked chest box smiles at the elf. "I am. It is good to see you as well, have you been brought to aid The Circle?"

Alim shakes his head. "No, I've been recruited into the Grey Wardens."

The other Tranquil nods. "I see. Is Owain well?"

Alim nods. "He is. When last I left The Circle he was in good condition."

Kalek nods. "I see. Then all is as it should be." He looks at Alim and smiles.

Alim looks about The Circle Camp, and sees a Fomarri tent, the signature yellow of the Tranquil flag marking their place in the army. "Are there any enchanting materials, Kalek?"

The brown haired Tranquil nods. "Indded, would you like a moment to see the others? We also have materials on hand."

Alim smiles. "Yes, I would like that, Kalek."

()()()()()()()()(

Hours pass, mid morning turns into early afternoon. The Fomarri tent houses none of the Tranquil Alim knew from the Tower, but were no less willing to let him do construction work on making Runes. He manages to construct a few simple healing Runes, but after extra effort is able to construct a single tier 4 Energy Rune. It has many applications, but the simplest of which was to be a dire counter measure if he found himself against an enemy he could not handle.

There would likely be many of those in the coming days ahead, and unfortunately, he would not likely get the materials to make such a Rune again in the future. A pity lyrium only goes so far in enchantment work, and that so much of it is required to actually make even the simplest of alterations to existing matter.

When he is done, Alim bows to the other Tranquil. "Thank you all for letting me use the facilities."

They nod, elves, and humans, and turn to him with monotone voices. "Come back when you can, Alim."

Alim nods and leaves the tent, striking back out into the main camp, He walks off, again moving with the brisque pace up the sloping steps and into the medical pavilion.

"Oiy, you there, elf!"

Alim stop and turns about and faces a fat man with a smith's apron. "Go and tell the commander his sword will be-"

Alim steps forward and lifts greatsword, swinging it down to touch the nose of the blacksmith. "I would watch your words, shemlen," he says jutting the blade closer to the man's face. His upward vantage giving him the perfect view to look down on the portly human. "I am a Grey Warden, not one of your servants."

The blacksmith holds his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry, I...I didn't mean to offend you, it's just, there are so many elves running about, it's hard to distinguish my own from all the rest."

The Tranquil raises an eye brow. "Your own?"

The blacksmith sweats. "My own, you know, I have an assistant, he's about here somewhere, delivering messages, Pick is his name."

Alim stares at the blacksmith. "Well I am not him, and you would do well to make note of that, and treat your assistants with more respect."

The blacksmith nods hastily. "Yes, sir."

The Tranquil sheathes his sword, and moves back up the slope to the pavilion. Cots, hundred of them, attending priests and Mages moving about trying to heal the wounded. Black patchy splotches of skin mark many of the fallen soldiers, their groaning is buttressed by the cries of pain. "This will only take a minute." Wynne's voice amidst the cries.

Alim walks about, staring down at the writhing bodies. "Please, you've got to warn them." A man's deranged cries as he thrashes on his cot.

"Hold him still, we need to treat his wound."

"They're coming! They're coming and there's nothing we can do!"

Alim watches the man's frantic cries, as he turns to the elf and reaches out with his fingers.

"You, warn them! I survived the attack, they're coming, all of them, we have to run!" The black splotches on his face mark where the Taint has infiltrated his system. A Mage grips him by the shoulders.

"Hold him down!"

The man continues to thrash. "They're coming! The Darkspawn are coming!"

Across the cotts, a priestess sits by a wounded soldier, this one calmer than the other. "Try not to move, Abner. You'll upset your injuries more."

"It burns, Sister." The man scratches at the bandages across his chest.

"I know it does. But we have few healers to spare, the ointment should take care of the wound, you just need to not upset it." The priestess puts a hand on the man's hand and tries to soothe his pain.

"Perhaps I may be of assistance, Sister," Alim says, walking up to the fallen soldier. The elf kneels at his side and lifts up the bandages, despite the hisses of the Soldier. He places a rune on the man's chest, at the deepest point of the wound. He runs his fingers on the markings, which glow with a soft blue light, enveloping the Soldier in the glow.

As the light fades, Abner lets out a contented sigh. "Ooooh." He looks up at the elf and says "Thank you, ser Mage."

"It is no trouble." Alim stands and walks away from the pair.

"For all the danger magic poses to us, I am glad for our healers, Sister."

The Sister leans in and whispers to her Soldier. "That is no, Mage, Abner. That is a Tranquil."

"Oh?" The Soldier follows Alim, who is now standing behind the small congregation of another preaching Sister.

The Priestess nods. "He has been stripped of his Magic, and of the danger he poses to his fellow man." She stands, and puts a hand to her heart and smiles. "Given a second chance at life, without the curse of demons following him for the rest of his time on Thedas."

The Soldier nods. "Given new purpose to serve those around him. One could hardly ask for more."

The Tranquil turns around slowly, like a clockwork machine, and looks into the eyes of The Priestess and The Soldier. "I can hear you both perfectly fine. You need not speak of me in the third person." His eyes, the tiny pin pricks of pupils in the bright sunlight.

The two humans blink at the elf.

Alim stares.

The two avert their eyes, and continue to act the part of a wounded soldier and his doting chaste caregiver.

Alim moves on out of the medical pavilion and now down the steps past a tent of painted warriors, one man ordering an elf.

"Tell Teryn Loghain our party is ready to scout the wilds." The painted man shouts.

"Yes, sir." The elf runs off. Alim looks at the party of warriors, their brown painted leather armor and heavy axes denoting them as Chasind Barbarians. Curiosity and his rules demand he walk over and so he does, until one of the barbarian's, not one of the ones that shouted at the elf, grabs his arm. "Oiy!"

It's a lithe hand that grips around his wrist, but pulls back fiercely, nearly pulling the elf's arm out of socket. "Come'ere knife-ear."

Alim falls back onto the ground, landing hard on the greatsword strapped to his back, and stares up at the rough, red face of a Chasind woman.

"Aren't you just a convenient little morsel." She leers down at the elf.

"I'm not a morsel, I'm a Grey Warden and I'm not interested in becoming a morsel for you." Alim pushes himself up with his hands.

The Chasind woman grins at that, shoves the elf against a tree, and grips him by the collar. "Well I've heard tales about Grey Warden endurance, and I'd like to see them proven." She leans into forcefully kiss the elf, mashing her face against his.

For a time, Alim cannot breathe, an odd sense of panic overwhelming him, as he struggles in vain to dislodge the larger woman from him. His Rules overtly stating emblazoned in his mind that any action allowing this Chasind to use him was unacceptable. Not in a sense of valuing his self or his body, but out of the knowledge that the Rules were so bright in his memory.

The Chasind Woman opens her eyes, to look into the ones o the elf she is dominating and sees the empty pools for the first time. The elf's face is a blank mask, his pointed nose a jutting dagger underneath the mop of unkempt hair surrounding his head, but the eyes held nothing. She lets go of Alim, and peers at him.

Alim stays next to the tree, as if now bound to it.

"What are you?"

"I am Tranquil."

"Your one of them Circle mages aren'tcha?"

"I was."

"Why do you looks so...funny? Don't you smile, is life being a Mage so bad?" She peers down at him. "Or is it 'cause your an elf?"

"I am not a Mage!" The Tranquil shouts and gets up and walks to the woman, who steps back as the elf advances. "I am Tranquil. I am no longer a Mage." The elf points to the mark on his forehead. "This brand removed my powers and my emotions." The elf stops. The other Chasind are watching now, so are the regional soldiers.

The camp is alive. An elf is confronting a woman, a Chasind woman, but a woman none the less. The Soldiers around camp watch, and silently take bets on the outcome.

The Chasind woman perceives the stares, glancing around, and at her Chieftan. His face, masked by a large black goatee, is set in frown and is shaking his head at her from afar. She turns back to Alim.

The Tranquil is keeping his distance.

She squints at him. "You do not feel anger?"

"I know the memory of it's burn and the exhaustion that came with it."

"No fear?"

"A knowledge that I will never flee from cowardice, but I shall neither shall I ever be brave." She inclines her head.

"No desire?" The elf looks down.

"An understanding, that my body is separate, and functional from my feelings and that if ordered, I would have no choice but to comply with the desires of others."

"If ordered...like how I almost did?" She looks down at the ground.

"Yes."

She stares at Alim. "You got everyones attention just to prevent me from ordering you to fuck me?"

The elf nods. "Yes."

The sound of her pulling out her longsword and dagger from her belt and stepping back made Alim's hand twitch to his sword out of reflex. "Well too bad, Tranquil, I order you to fight me. If I win, I will order you to bed me tonight, and if you win, you get to go your separate way." Alim pulls out his greatsword. "You would let me go if I won? Knowing you still have the power to order me?" He steps back away from the Chasind Woman.

The Chasind Woman slides back on her studded leather armor, stretching her arms out with brief swings. "If I lose to you, at this point, it doesn't matter if I order you, I won't have earned it." She turns to the Tranquil and grins ferally. "There is no enjoyment in the kill if you do not earn it, elf."

Alim tilts his head, and swings his greatsword in a simple wide arc to test his own arms. "You will come back from you hunt empty handed then, my lady." The elf bows.

The Chasind Woman grins. "I think not, Warden."

From all sides of the camp, the spectatators gather. The word travels fast. "A Chasind woman's fightin' an elf!" In droves, like cattle they herd around the two, circling the fighters as they circle each other.

Alim stands poised, his greatsword in front, standing upright, feet pointed forward, sliding to the side.

The Chasind Woman, now swaying back and forth on her knees, and rolling her feet, is looking into the Tranquil's eyes to find any signs of the lapses of form that would denote the opportune moment to strike.

"If I may?" The Tranquil asks.

The Chasind woman looks up at Alim.

"What is the name of my opponent?" The elf asks, pulling his greatsword down to his hip and using the blade as a guard over his body.

"Barta," The Chasind Woman says.

"Alim," returns the Tranquil.

And with that they are both at each other. Charging across the circle, the cries and jeers of the men standing outside, the two meet at the center.

Barta swings down with her longsword.

Alim blocks up with his greatsword.

The Chasind Woman brings her dagger about right behind her deflected longsword and cuts sharply into Alim's robes at the center, only to find that the golden fiber does not tug or budge. Barta looks up at Alim and blinks.

The elf head butts her, holding his greatsword in one hand and gripping her dagger arm for leverage, the elf head butts her.

Barta stumbles back, holding her forehead. The sounds of the crowd are getting restless, while they want a good fight, they don't want the elf to win, unless of course one of them should go in and rescue the 'defenseless savage woman.' In the cacophcony of noise and dilluted voices, Barta feels her restraints and civility slowly eb away.

Alim stops.

Barta isn't moving, instead the Barbarian woman is holding her head at the hilts of her dagger and longsword, her breathing becoming ragged and her body spasms. Growl escapes her throat, and Barta removes her hands from her head, showing her eyes to the Tranquil, and the glowing red aura surrounding her body.

"Oh dear," The Tranquil says. "You're a Berserker."

Not bothering to answer, and perhaps not capable at this point of speaking, Barta lets out of blood curdling roar. "Ughaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" And charges the elf again. This time, Alim finds that the Chasind Barbarian is not so easy to parry. Her blows are fast, like lightning, the longsword and dagger moving in tandem with each attack, and what Alim does manage to block sends reverberations through his greatsword. Moving around the circle of people to avoid her blade, unfortunate mercenary in scale armor had the misfortune to stand behind Alim as the elf moved to the side and Bartas dagger pierced clean through the metal. Not stopping, Barta pulls the dagger out of the now fatally wounded soldier, and follows after the Tranquil.

Alim knows he cannot keep this up. Only three years of physical labor to account for his sword technique, this Chasind Woman had been training her entire life and built on traditions of violence and power which embolden her actions as she sees the elf retreat more and more, unable to swing his greatsword with the sheer momentum that Barta carries herself with. It might be considered cheating, and it might be a waste of a good Rune, his best Rune, but Alim would not have wanted to be ordered to sleep with anyone, and so, in accordance with his Rules, places with the Rune on his chest, and traces the mark on it.

The Rune glows a bright yellow light.

Barta, still enveloped by her Rage lunges at the Tranquil, going for a double strike with both her dagger and longsword, ready to pierce the elf where he stands. Only to find a moment later that Alim is not there. Almost enough to bring her out of her Rage, the sudden disappearance of the elf, and the rush of air pressure that fills the space where he once stood is enough to make the Barbarian pause, but only for a moment. The faces of the many gathered around them are staring pointedly behind her.

"Excuse me, maddam."

Barta turns around.

Alim is holding his greatsword bouncing it in his right hand, standing like a rag doll held up by so many strings, and a golden light surrounding him. The mop of brown hair turns to Barta and smiles. "Well...my dear...shall we...go again?" His speech is broken by the undulations of energy around him. The red aura around Barta brightens as the Barbarian woman bears her teeth at the Tranquil. "Oh I'm going to enjoy the things I'm gonna do to you, Tranquil."

The elf bows his head, an almost manic looks behind his eyes. "Oh, but you must catch me first, madam." And like that the elf is a blur of movement, rushing at the Chasind Woman, swinging his massive greatsword with the Haste provided by the Rune he'd used.

Like a storm of blades, a shrieking symphony of metal, Alim's greatsword and Barta's dagger and longsword trade leads and rythms. They move back and forth through the ring, a yellow and red duet, dancing across the once tiny circle, which has now enlarged to give the combatants a distance.

Alim bringing his greatsword down heavy while Barta blocks by pincering her two weapons at the hilt, and running at the elf, flinging his greatsword back.

The Chasind Woman does not let the opportunity slip by, she runs forward with her blades at the elf.

Alim slides back with his greatsword, dodging Barta's Flurry: left to the greatsword, right to the dagger, and backing away from the longsword. He rears his greatsword back, and slams the pommel into Barta's face at the forehead.

The Chasind Woman goes down onto her back and in a moment the red aura that enveloped her fades into the air. She does not get up.

The crowd is silent, save for a minor rumbling in the background. "Is that it?" A single disenter asks.

Alim's Haste wears off, and he suddenly realizes that the after affects and penalties of the Rune, unlike the spell, would come after it wore off. The elf stumbles and lets his greatsword hit the ground on point, panting heavy breaths, as though his chest will collapse. He looks around at the humans surrounding him, and now converging on the elf. This will not end well. He readies his greatsword, barely holding up the blade, until a shout stops the advancing crowd.

"What's going on here?!" A familliar sound, heavy metal joints and boots clanking around arouses Alim's eyes. In the open sun, in the cold humid air stood a man in silver armor with long black hair and a massive bent beak of a nose. "What is this? Did someone arrange a betting ring out of boredom?" The man steps forward into the center of the ring. "Are the Darkspawn not enough for you people that you must fight each other for sport?" He shouts, looking around at the gawking and soldiers.

The men are still, they do not dare speak for they know who this man is.

Alim does not. "The Chasind Woman advanced on me. I defended myself in the ring as form of honorable combat to settle the matter."

The man in silver armor squints at the elf. "Honorable combat? You call this blood pit honorable? There's a man dead over there." The silver knight points at the unfortunate victim of Barta's Rage. "And you have potentially critically wounded one of my Ash Warrior legions top lieutenants." The silver knight looks beyond Alim to the woman on the ground and then to the Ash Warrior Chieftan standing outside the circle.

Barta is climbing up, her face is cracked at the base of the nose and a fresh line of blood falling down her face. "I need...a healer."

From the crowd a shout calls out, "Healer, we need a Mage here, now!"

Alim moves away from the silver knight.

He tries to grab the elf, but his gauntlet does not reach and the Tranquil walks on next to Barta. The Chasind Woman holds up her dagger with a feeble hand, and her longsword lies on the ground.

Alim pushes the blade to the side and pulls out a rune from his robe. "Hold still." He places it on Barta's wound.

The Chasind Woman flinches at the applied cold stone and the light pressure Alim's finger makes as he traces on the rock. As the blue light envelops her she feels the crack in her skull mend and the blood which had covered her face, dries up, and the apparent nausea fades. Barta rights herself and stands her full height, a head and a half taller than Alim. She looks down at the elf, blinking with confusion.

Alim stares up at her. "You are welcome." The Tranquil walks away, back to the silver knight, who is now right behind him.

The silver knight glowers down at the elf.

Alim stares back.

From the crowd another rustling is heard, more clanking armor, and a golden aura pierces the veil of men. "Ho there! What's all this business about?"

The silver knight turns. "Cailan, just a minor troup altercation, nothing that won't be summarily punished," the silver knight says glancing back at Alim. "A misunderstanding apparently between this Ash Warrior and this elf."

From behind The King of Feraldan comes Duncan's voice. "Alim!" The Warden Commander breaks through the crowd and to the elf's side.

The silver knight raises an eye brow. "One of yours, Grey Warden?"

Duncan turns about. "Yes, Teryn Loghain, one of mine." Duncan frowns down at the elf. "Why were you fighting this woman, Alim?"

"Apparently, our little friend here did not appreciate the advances of this Chasind Warrior and the two fought it out here. While she was critically wounded, this elf has taken care of that problem." The silver knight turns to the crowd and shouts. "Mulak, this one is one of your own, is she not?"

The bearded Ash Warrior Leader turns to the silver knight. "Aye, that she is Teryn."

"While I respect your legions, I cannot have any soldiers under our army engaging in frivolous violence while waiting for the Darkspawn." The silver knight steps forward toward Alim and Barta.

The King of Fereldan is quick to get involved. He steps up to Loghain and puts a hand forward. "Loghain there's no need for such actions. If both parties are willing to separate on equal terms I see no reason that punishment in necessary." Cailan turns to Duncan and frowns. "On the other hand, Duncan we cannot have your Warden's starting fights with the other soldiers on camp." Duncan nods. "Rest assured, your majesty, I will instruct Alim on the nature of our alliances and the necessity for cooperation with our allies."

The King smiles. "You see Loghain, no need for formal punishment. I'm sure Mulak also agrees?" Cailan turns to the Ash Warrior Chieftan.

Mulak nods and bows. "If the King deems that no punishment be necessary, I will follow his will."

"It's settled then." Cailan walks up to Alim and Barta, at first looking down on the two fighters, then he smiles and says, "I think you two understand, we can't have fighting here amongst the troops."

Alim and Barta nod, like children befoer a very kind father.

Cailan smils. "Good. You hear that?" The King shouts. He turns about and faces the assembled soldiers. "We are all Feraldans, here in this land we stand united against The Blight, we cannot allow ourselves to be diverted by our differences! Instead we must focus on the common goal we all share, to protect our homeland!"

A rousing cry and huzzah rings out from the crowd, Cailans words seeming to diffuse the tension and anger from before.

The King smiles and walks over to the silver knight. "You see that, Loghain? No need for punishment, a little mercy goes a long way."

The silver knights frowns and hurrumphs. "You are far to lenient for your own good, boy." The King frowns at his father's closest friend. "And you are far too abrasive for your own." The King walks away, a troup of guards following behind him.

The silver knight turns to Alim. "As for you, Tranquil, I will not tolerate insubordination from anyone. So long as you are a Warden of Fereldan you fight for our armies, I want no more squabbles from you. If a woman advances on you and saying no means fighting her, then you damn well relent, understand?" The silver knight, who Alim now knows as Loghain Mac Tir, the Teryn of Gwaren, points down at the elf.

Alim stares, then says, "Very well, Teryn Loghain. I will make a rule of it."

The Teryn nods. "That said, not bad work. If you can take on an Ash Warrior you're certainly fit to fight the Darkspawn." He walks back into the line of the camp. The men of the circle disperse, it is now only Mulak, Barta, Duncan, and Alim.

Barta is looking at the ground.

Mulak turns to her. "Go wait with the others, despite your foolishness, you did fight well." Barta is silent. She nods, and turns to Alim. "A good fight, Alim."

The Tranquil nods. "If I were not as I am now, I would tell you I enjoyed that a great deal." The Chasind Woman nods. "I look forward to fighting you again." The Tranquil raises an eyebrow. "The Teryn forbade fighting." Barta shrugs. "We won't always be fighting Darkspawn, elf." She walks off, past her Chieftan to meet with her fellow Warriors, an odd sway to her walk that Alim, and the rest of the camp notices.

The Chieftan turns to Alim. "I must say I never expected an elf to give an Ash Warrior a challenge. The Teryn is right, you did fight well," the Chieftan says.

Alim nods. "I appreciate knowing that my skills are worthwhile to the cause."

The Chieftan frowns. "Whether they are worthwhile will be determined tomorrow."

Duncan gestures his hand for Alim to follow him. "And at that I must insist Alim that we move with haste. There is much to be done."

The Tranquil turns to the Warden Commander. "Yes, sir." Alim turns to Mulak and bows, following Duncan's direction to a large fire pit.

Standing around it are two men, one of them leaning against a pillar, cleaning his finger nails with the tip; the other is bowing his head, his eyes far off.

Duncan waves the two over.

The man on the pillar notices first and waves back. "Oiy, Duncan, did you find out what all that mess was?" He puts away his dagger.

The Warden Commander nods. "That I did indeed, Daveth. As it turns out your fellow recruit, Alim, was sparring with an Ash Warrior." Duncan turns back to the Tranquil.

Alim shrugs. "She wouldn't take no for an answer."

Duncan shakes his head. "On that point, Ser Jory, any luck finding Alistair?"

The big man shakes his head, his jowls shaking slightly in the act. "No sir. I looked for him with the other Wardens in the vanguard camp, but I found no sight of him."

Duncan sighs. "That is distressing news." He puts a finger to his chin and looks at the fire, then roves his eyes over to the elf standing next to him.

Alim looks up at The Warden Commander. "I will find him."

Duncan drops his hands. "I did not ask you to."

The Tranquil shakes his head. "You did not need to ask, I knew. I will look for him." Alim walks away from the party of men.

Duncan calls out from behind the elf. "I would check with the Templars or the Circle of Magi in camp, Alim." The Tranquil nods and walks off to the Circle camp. He knows he could ask the Templars, but he knows a source of information he'd rather talk to.

Kalek is standing beside a chest of items again, watching over it for whatever reason, likely he'd been ordered to by a Circle Mage or a Templar. The brown haired man turns to Alim and smiles. "Alim, what a pleasant surprise. How are you?"

Alim shakes his head. "Kalek, I have precious time, I need to ask, have you seen a Warden by the name of Alistair around the camp?"

Kalek looks up at the air above Alim's head and stares at the surrounding area around him. "From my recollections of memory...I saw a blonde man, called out as Alistair, by one of our Templars watching the Magi. They'd studied at the same Chantry it seems." The Tranquil man looks down at Alim. "That is all I can remember, the blonde man, your Alistair went up there, towards the War Council room." Kalek pionts at a ramp of stone leading up into an archway.

Alim nods. "Thank you, Kalek."

The brown haired man holds up a hand. "Alim, I would like to ask you a question."

The elf stops. Kalek steps forward. "I have heard some rumors in the time at camp that has passed. They say that there was an incident at the Tower."

Alim nods. "There was."

Kalek frowns at the elf. "Alim, I asked you last time if the Tower was well."

Alim nods. "And it was, Kalek."

Kalek's frown drops. "Alim, that is distressing, you should not lie about such things to one of your own kind."

Alim shakes his head at Kalek. "I did not lie, Kalek. You did not ask me if anything had happened to The Circle. When I left, it was, in fact, fine."

The brown haired man stares at his fellow Tranquil. "But you knew the intent of what I asked, you know that behind the words people say to you that there is intent behind it."

Alim stares back at Kalek. "I do not have to honor the orders issued by every person around me, Kalek."

The other Tranquil shakes his head. "It is not an order, Alim, it never was. Just a question."

Alim looks at the War Council ramp, and looks back at Kalek. "It was a question I did not need to answer."

Kalek frowns at the elf. "Then, I will ask another, Alim, did you try to destroy The Circle?" Alim looks up at Kalek, but says nothing.

The brown haired Tranquil nods. "I see. I feel no anger, Alim, for what reason would you want to hide something like that from me?"

Alim looks at the War Council room. "If I had succeeded, I would have told everyone at the camp that I destroyed The Cirlce of Magi, Kalek." He squints at his fellow Tranquil. "I did not succeed, there was nothing worth mentioning."

Kalek looks at the elf and shakes his head. "I am not incriminating you for your actions, I am just curious as to why you did not tell me."

Alim raises an eyebrow at Kalek. "Curious?"

"Yes, curious, after all," Kalek says, turning around and opening the chest he is standing next to. "We were put under the Rite for the same crime." He pulls out of the chest multiple lesser and regular health poultices, and a few runes. "I would want to give to someone, so courageous to strike back at our captors, a gift in thanks, were I not as I am now." Kalek holds out the proferred items to the elf.

Alim reaches out with his hand and takes the gift. "Thank you, Kalek."

The brown haired man smiles and bows his head. "Thank you, for never giving in. Now," The Tranquil man says, turning about. "I must get back to work." He walks deeper into the Circle encampment.

Alim stands for a moment, then he drinks one of the lesser poulitices. He feels his energy restored, the cuts across his body sewing themselves up and the lethargy that once permeated his step now gone in the wind. He pockets the other poulitices, and makes note of the Runes in his hands. Earth tier 2, Fire tier 3, Force tier 2, Arcane tier 2, and three Healing tier 1 Runes.

Alim sighs. That Haste Rune would still be with him if he had just relented to Barta's desires. Kalek values his identity and his stalwart resolve, those traits had cost him dearly today. 'I will need to learn to be more flexible in the future.' The Tranquil nods and walks up the War Council ramp.

Servants, elven servants, scurring about, setting up the meeting chamber for the King and the Teryn, one of them directing the mass flow of workers to and fro like a conductor, mumbling voices grousing at the amount of detail required to keep the room in order for the King and his many subsidaries.

Alim shakes his head and walks on. He'd fought enough for his honor as an elf, and had the pleasure of seeing where it would get him. Charity could only be done so much before ones energy and efficiency to aid others could be depleted, and then one is no help to anyone. Alim leaves the War Council room and steps up another one into an open dias room. Therein two men are bickering.

A portly mage. "You Templars never change. It's as though the Chantry had you invented so that no village idiot would be left unatended!"

A large, fit man in spintmail armor. "Oh, yes, and you mages are so impecabably intelligent, tell me, why haven't you found a way to stop from becoming abominations again?" He puts a hand to his chin and smirks at the portly mage.

The portly mage sneers at the blonde man. "Always with that drabble! I've had enough of this argument, you've managed to prove that as always, your kind never change. I will see your Revered mother, but The King will hear of this harassment, I assure you!"

The blonde man chuckles. "Oh yes, we never change, that's why I'm a Grey Warden now, free of the Chantry, and you're still sitting in a tower for the rest of your life."

The portly mage pulls out his staff and points it at the blond man, who also pulls out his sword and shield. The portly mages grimaces at the blonde man.

The blonde man stares at the mage with a blank expression, his longsword ready in his right and his shield arm twitching slightly. "All I came here to do was deliver a message, ser mage. I'm sorry you don't appreciate it, but that's what I came here to do. If you want to tell the Revered Mother you hate her guts, I'll be happy to help you with that, but I'm not in the mood for this. I have a squad of Warden Recruits to lead through a forest of impossible death and probably more grisly death today, and if I have to go through you to ge that done, I will. Warden honor and all that."

The mage grouses one more time then puts away his staff. He clenches his fists at his side and storms off muttering "Fool."

Alim watches the portly mage, who does not spare the elf a glance more than to look at his forehead, and hurries off past him.

The blonde man walks up to Alim, sheathing his longsword and shield. "You know, one thing about the Blight is how it really brings people together." The smile on his face reminds Alim of the Kings. Another mask wearer.

"Everyone does seem ready to work together for the greater good, I've never seen such ambiable comraderie." The Alim smirks at the blonde man.

"It's like a party! We can all get together hold hands, stand in a line, and sing. That would give the Darkspawn something to be frightened about."
Alim raises an eyebrow at the man. "Your sense of irony and absurdity is...heavy."

The blonde man shakes his head. "I've been called strange and a foold quite a few times, but I don't think anyones bother to...wait was that a compliment?"

Alim stares.

"Riiiiiiight, okay. Um, what's your name if you don't mind me asking?"

The elf nods. "I apologize. I am Alim Surana, Tranquil of the Circle of Magi."

The blonde man's eyes alight. "Tranquil? Oh! You're the new Recruit Duncan mentioned! I'm sorry, I should have recognized you by his description. Wow, you really are a Tranquil, though." He stares at the mark on his forehead.

"Yes it's an amazing eye grabber, I like to use it to get the ladies all riled up." The elf smirks.

The blonde man chuckles then erupts into laughter. "Oh I'm sure that works just fine. 'Oh, Mr. Tranquil elf sir, your skin is so smooth and your body is so pretty and you have no emotions, I'd love to talk to you with your monosyllabic expressions and fantasize about you from afar!' Some thing like that?"

Alim shakes his head. "No actually, just today it was 'You, knife-ear, I'm horny and I need a pleasure toy, come here or I shall beat you into submission and take you anyway.'"

The blonde man looks on with a blank expression. "Wow, was that...did that really happen?"

Alim nods. "Yes. Just over there." He points behind him where the circle had formed.

The blonde man squints, frowns and then brightens as enlightenment dawns on him. "That commotion earlier, wow, that was you and her?"

Alim nods. "Aye, let it be said, never turn down a Chasind Woman."

The blonde man nods sagely. "Wise words, though I'm sure a few would say, never turn down a woman. In my experience, bad things happen when you do."

The elf nods. "I take it you are Alistair, then?"

Alistair nods. "That I am, and I take it Duncan sent you to find me?"

The Tranquil nods. "He did indeed."

Alistair nods. "Well, I guess I took too long with ser grumpy pants over there. Shall we get a move on?" He gestures for the elf to follow him.

Alim nods, following after the blonde man.

"So," Alistair says, turning to Alim following behind him. "What did you do to get Duncan to recruit you?"

Alim walks next to the former Templar. "I was recommened by the Knight Commander. I've trained with Templars for the last three years of my life."

Alistair nods. "Ah, I see. Do anything interesting while you were there at the Circle?"

Alim stops at the archway out of the War Council room. Duncan's fire can be seen easily in the distance. The elf turns to the former Templar and says, "Yes many things."

Alistair grins. "Do anything particularly heretical while you were there to get yourself marked?"

Alim rolls his head from side to side then looks at the Templar. "A few things.

Alistair frowns. "You're not gonna tell me, are you?"

Alim smirks, his face still holding the barest muscle to create the face on it. "Perhaps later I will tell you, but not now."

Alistar chuckles. "Fine, then, suit yourself." He walks down the ramp, the elf following him in tow.

Alim looks at Alistair. "I wouldn't worry, though."

Alistair looks up at the Tranquil, who is stepping forward, fondling the greatsword on his back with an earie smile.

Alim looks at the Templar, his eyes shut so tight that he could not possibly see where he was going, yet walks with an impeccable grace along side Alistair. "Were I not as I am now, I am sure I would like you, so in time, I think I shall tell you."

Alistar frowns down at the elf. "You know, I've met other Tranquil before."

"Oh, you have?"

The former Templar's frown deepens. "I don't think many are as expressive as you."

Alim smiles and opens his eyes.

Alistair takes note of the lack of anything behind them.

"I've been told that. I will tell you what I tell the others; Imitation isn't difficult." The Tranquil drops the smile and his focus on Alistair, then continues walking forward toward Duncan's fire.

Alistair nods, looks at the fire, at the surrounding camp, then trots up to keep pace with the elf. His eyes linger on the King's tent, and he runs his hands through his hair. "I think I know what you mean."

Alim nods. "And that is why we will be friends."

Authors Note: Woo! Chapter Two, done. I gotta tell you, putting this much detail in each chapter sometimes is a daunting task, there's a lot of stuff I have to cover and make sure is in the right place and consult the Wiki to get the names of the individual characters that I'm using for this story.

So, I think I should explain about why Alim is using a Two Hander, and this emphasis on him being more Rogue than Warrior. The reason is that I discovered in DA:O that you can backstab with Two Handed weapons. I'm not shitting you, it's amazing, the damage output and the heavy armor more than makes up for the lack of defense, also, because you don't wait talents in the Weapon Training Skills, your Rogue ends up mastering three or four other skill trees. It's pretty awesome. I've got a link here for anyone who wants to see my explanation the BSN.

forum/1/topic/66/index/16116446

I personally want to thank my reviewers: Sadarga, dominicgrim, and NIX'S WARDEN, I really appreciate that you guys took the time to give me feedback, and I'm always looking forward to more.

I appreciate also that you guys find my interpritation of the Tranquil to be so interesting, bear in mind, I'm gonna take some liberties with the lore, particularly as you may have noticed with the Runes, but I think you'll like where I go with this.

Also, sorry about that false update, I'm still having issues with formatting, but I think it has more to do with the fact that I've moved this piece from different word process to processor which has given it this very unique set of lacking indents and jumbled paragraphs. Bottom line, I had to go up and down this thing to make sure all was well. In the end as well, I think I need pre readers for this story, and I'd be happy to take some if they're willing. In the end, I'll figure something out, even if it kills me.

Edit: I'm doing a repost of both the first chapters because I found some pretty glaring errors in them that reinforce my thoughts on getting pre readers for this. I know I could reduce the size of these things but that just ain't my style, ya know?

-Konous