Zarihn sat alone at a table in Haven's tavern, a half drunk mug of something unidentifiable in his hand. He was trying to drink away his memories, as he often had before the Collapse, and he had finally managed to push the Druffalo from his thoughts. It would seem that he was now at the stage of drunkenness that was occupied by extreme lust, not that that was any different from his normal state of being, since his mind was focused once again on Cassandra. Zarihn took a sip from his mug and furrowed his brow, thinking on Cassandra's rear end once again.
"Ahem," said someone behind him. He turned around in his seat and came face to face with Agronaak's belly button. "I, uh, hope I'm not intruding, Zarihn. I came in here for a quick mug of ale and I saw you, and thought we might speak. Thoughts?"
"Thoughts?" Zarihn scoffed. "My only thought is Cassandra, but by all means, have a seat."
Agronaak nodded in appreciation, sliding into the stool next to Zarihn. The stool and table were obviously not built for people of his height or muscle mass, and he fidgeted uncomfortably. "So, Zarihn... We are comrade Heralds, yes? Bound together by this mark we share... What do you think of that?"
"Honestly, I think it's load of druffalo shit." Zarihn said. A poor choice of words, evidently. They both shifted uncomfortably in their seats before shaking it off. "I don't believe in any 'Maker of us all', regardless of what the Chantry says. Comrades, however? That is something a lot more tangible. As is the Breach, and these marks we bear. I long for the days when life was uncomplicated, but not everything was sunshine and roses for everyone back then either. Least of all for me."
Agronaak grunted. "I see. I agree with much of what you have just said. But, you say you long for the days before, even though not everything was easy... Why is that? What was life like for you, that you were living a difficult but preferable life to this one?"
Zarihn's eyes glazed over for a moment and he smiled sadly. "Life was good, for a time. And that's the problem, really. All good things end, as is the way of the world." He said, taking another drink. "But… there are a few things I wish hadn't ended."
"What do you mean?" Agronaak asked him, his brow furrowing.
"I had a good life. Years ago. Twelve years ago. Actually… no, scratch that. Thirteen years. It was exactly to the day four days ago." Zarihn said. "I used to have a family, you see. A wonderful family. Parents. Three sisters. We all got along, except for all the practical jokes I used to pull on my siblings." He chuckled dryly and kept drinking. "We lived on the road. My father called us merchants, or 'entrepreneurs', was his word. In actuality, we were scavengers. Battle cleaners. My father stole from the fallen in battles. No, stealing is the wrong word. They weren't going to keep using any of what we took. And the people we sold it too... they certainly needed everything more than the dead. My father always talked about going into an ordinary business. With a shopfront and everything. In a town, perhaps. Or a city, even. Life was good like that. Really, it was. But that all changed. As everything does."
"What happened?" Agronaak asked, his tone softening.
"When I was fourteen, younger than all my sisters, the Fifth Blight began." Zarihn told him. "At the time, my father had just recently crossed the Frostbacks from Orlais to Ferelden, hoping to find good business. He wasn't disappointed. Less than two weeks after our arrival in Ferelden, the darkspawn took victory at the Battle of Ostagar. Where native Fereldans saw tragedy and hopelessness as the darkspawn attacked, my father saw only an opportunity. He took us south with our little caravan, and waited until the horde had moved on a bit before we went in and picked over the battlefield. At the time, we thought we had struck it rich. Maybe we could resell all of that gear and finally open up our shop. Sounds like a cliche, I know. Moving back to Val Royeaux and being successful.
"But of course that didn't work out. Shortly after we gathered up these new weapons and armor and moved north, we ran into some trouble. Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir and his men, the survivors of Ostagar. We didn't know who they were at first, and offered to sell them our newly discovered wares. Some of the men politely stopped to take a look, although I wish they never did. The soldiers recognized the armor worn by their fallen comrades and turned on us, calling us thieves and the worst sort of scum for stealing from the dead. The fact that we elves, and Orlesian elves no less, certainly didn't help, seeing as Teyrn Loghain hates and fears both Orlesians and elves. The soldiers brought all of our wares before the Teyrn and told them lie upon lie of what they had 'discovered'. He sided with them, and they all attacked us. They stole everything, killed our animals, took turns with my sisters, and killed my parents. By the time they got to me, I had had the stupidity to take a blade from the 'stolen' weaponry. I fought rather valiantly for a scared teenager, or so I like to think. It didn't end well, of course. Ended up getting this," Zarihn leaned forward and brushed away a wayward strand of hair to reveal a light, jagged scar on his right cheekbone that had somehow gone unnoticed before, "from some asshole with an axe.
"They couldn't just kill me properly, oh no. Of course not. They had to forget about me and leave me in the mud, surrounded by corpses." Zarihn grimaced and finished his drink, motioning for the bartender to bring him another. Only when he brought him another mug did he continue. "And I couldn't just lie there. I had to keep going. I don't even know why I did. I got up and started walking. I still had a dagger. At least they didn't take that, so I used that for pretty much everything. I slowly made my way to Denerim, barely alive at this point. I met a man named Slim Couldry, who very politely informed me that he was a thief, and thought I had the makings of one as well. Of course I could have just stabbed him in the knee and taken his purse, but I decided to hear him out.
"That was the start of a very bizarre friendship. Slim Couldry, an aging half-elf thief, and a scrawny fourteen-year-old Orlesian orphan. But it was a friendship all the same. Slim taught me how to steal properly. How to pick a lock, how to climb through a window, or scale a wall, and this friend of his… Ignacio, I think it was, showed me the proper way to use my dagger. That all went on for a few months, as tales of the darkspawn attacking grew more and more frequent. After I had grown over half a bloody foot and made a few sovereigns, I decided I wanted out of the thieving game. It was, oddly enough, because of a girl. A Ferelden girl named Evanna. And I swear, at least to my young, pubescent mind, she was absolutely gorgeous. I left my sort-of-job with Slim and got a permanent room at 'The Gnawed Noble' with Evanna. It was a bloody stupid idea, really. I knew it couldn't last, but I wanted to hope it could, at the very least.
"And, as the way of my life always seems to be, this brief time of joy hope in my life came to a close as well. The darkspawn attacked Denerim, and Evanna died in the battle. I was with her when it happened, you know. The darkspawn came and broke down the gates, an Archdemon flying over them. There were just so few soldiers… I could scarcely believe it. King Alistair had gone with his fellow Grey Warden to Redcliffe, that much everybody knew, but it was all a ruse. The darkspawn swept through the city like a flood, killing all in their path. They broke down the door of 'The Gnawed Noble' and killed everyone in it. Everyone but me. A hurlock burst into our room and, before I even knew what was happening, it killed her. I went into a fit of rage, grabbed my dagger, and charged. To my own amazement, I managed to kill it. More came, however. One of them had a spear, and the last thing I remember was that… horribly crude thing being rammed into my stomach. I awoke after the battle outside the city, being tended to by a Circle Mage. Apparently they had just managed to save me, something about the Fade, but I wasn't really listening. I got out of that place as soon as I could and started wandering. I sort of just… drifted… for a while, gathering up money. As soon as I had enough, I spent it all on supplies to cross the Frostbacks for the first time in three years.
"I traveled through Orlais with a purpose in mind: to get to Val Royeaux. I eventually arrived, exhausted and out of money, my only asset the dagger I had kept since my family's deaths. I walked through the city for a while, hoping someone like Slim would come and find me, saying I had promise. No one ever did. So I went into business on my own, using the skills Slim and Ignacio had taught me. That all went on for years. Years full of loneliness, stolen sovereigns, and more women and men than I can count. Not to say that I can't count high, there were just a lot of them. My enjoyment peaked somewhere around my fourth year in Val Royeaux, and life slowly became dull once again.
"But, three months ago, I got a letter. Someone needed a thief and a spy. Apparently there was some sort of Conclave meeting at a place called the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and it was being led by Divine Justinia the Fifth. The Most Holy Divine apparently worse some exquisite jewels, and there was a certain anonymous person who would pay dearly to have those in his possession. This unknown person simply signed his letter with an ornate Tevinter seal and the letter 'C', and they wished me also to spy on this meeting and take notes. An absurd task, I know, but stranger things have been done. So, I did as I was bid. I went to this Conclave and spied and took notes and kept an eye on Divine Justinia, who was indeed wearing a set of fine jewelry, which would no doubt earn me a handsome few sovereigns. But, unfortunately for myself, this Conclave ended in disaster. The last I remember of that was an explosion, and then waking up in a cell with a rather gorgeous red-haired woman yelling at me about said explosion." Zarihn took a long drink. "So, my comrade Herald, that is my story. My life before the Collapse." He reached into his coat idly and pulled out a small grey iron dagger that looked as though it had been used more than a back alley whore. Zarihn twirled the dagger aimlessly a few times in his hand, glancing up at Agronaak occasionally.
The Qunari's brow was still furrowed. He looked into Zarihn's eyes, as if searching for something within them. Then he sighed and motioned for his own drink; he'd been so enamored with the story that he'd forgotten to order a drink to begin with. Looking back down at the elf, he wasn't sure what to say. What could he possibly say? Sorry? For what? What would he even be apologizing for?
"Zarihn... Thank you for the story. It means a great deal to me that you were willing to reveal such personal information to me, though we do not know each other so well. I hope you continue to feel so comfortable."
"Hey, it was my pleasure, Rivaini." Zarihn replied, sounding a bit like Varric for a moment. He grinned and took a drink. Despite his outward appearance, he was a more than a bit sad at remembering the events of his life. He stood up, still grinning and finished his drink. "Come on, comrade. The next round is on me."
Agronaak smiled. "No complaints from me... comrade." Zarihn patted him on the back and walked up to the bar, ordering a couple drinks for them.