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And you can still find me on deviant art under Raven Jadewolfe, where I post stories, artwork, and other random things.
The Joining hurts more than anything Rainne has ever felt, up to and including the acid wash she has used over the years to fade the brand on her right cheek.
The first words she hears after the terrible agony and haunting images recede are from Bettina. "Hey, I think she's waking up. Can I poke her with a stick to make sure she's done cooking?"
"Only if I get to poke back," the dwarf rasps in a feeble attempt at humor as Alistair scurries to help her to her feet.
"Rainne, are you alright?" the concern in his gaze is palpable, and a little unsettling for the duster.
But in spite of the grimace currently distorting her features, she gives him a thumbs up, "Just peachy, as you are fond of saying. I've had hangovers worse than this...I just need a few minutes to sort myself out."
With the hand not holding her upright, the Templar shows her a silver pendant that portrays two silver griffons grasping a blood red crystal, "This is for you, it's call the Warden's Oath. We fill it with a little blood from the chalice and give one to each new Warden. All Grey Wardens have one. It serves to remind us of those...who didn't make it this far."
She inclines her head so he can slip the chain over her head, giving her a perfect view of Duncan's scuffed boots as he walks over, "How are you feeling Rainne?"
"Like a herd of drunk brontos did a quadrille on my head," she chuckles, then winces as she pulls her ponytail from under the chain, "But I'll be okay soon enough. Did everyone..."
"Survive? Yes. Truly a fortunate turn of events. It is seldom that a group so large suffers no fatalities. This is the first I have been witness to, truth be told," the Warden Commander confesses, "Unfortunately we have little time to celebrate our good fortune, as the king wishes to congratulate the newest Greycloaks personally. You are the last to awaken, so we will leave as soon as you feel ready."
Her pale eyes dart around the ruin and learns, with some amusement, that her comrades appear every inch as rough as she feels. "Lead the way boss," she finally announces, pushing away from Alistair to stand of her own volition.
A slight twitch at the right edge of the Commander's mustache betrays his own humor, then gestures for the newly minted Grey Wardens to follow him to the far side of the encampment.
~C~H~A~P~T~E~R~B~R~E~A~K~
Between her throbbing head and the multitude of clashing voices resonating around her, she can make out almost nothing of what is actually being said. To her, it sounds like they will be playing host to a party of Orlesians, possibly in a tower on a hill, and quite likely to be joined by a harem well endowed Rivaini dancers.
And from the looks that King Cailan is continuously flashing at Alistair, the duster can't help but calculate the chances of those dancers being an all male troupe. Too bad the buzzing in her ears make even that thought a painful blur.
After giving up on her fifth attempt to ask her fellow Wardens what in the hell is being said, that persistent buzzing noise swells to ear-bleeding decibels...then a massive flaming ball crashes into the stone table standing in the middle of the cluster of screaming people and explodes.
"We're under attack! Move!" someone bellows as Rainne picks herself up out of the mud and begins sprinting towards the gate that leads to the valley below.
"Rainne, no!" Duncan roars over the cacophony, "Find who you can, then make for the tower of Ishal and get that beacon lit now!"
She remembers Duncan pointing out the decrepit structure when they arrived a few days before and alters her course without slowing.
Her short legs are swept out from beneath her by the impact of another blazing mass just as she begins crossing the stone bridge. When she stands, she recognizes a familiar form rolling on the ground, attempting to extinguish their burning arm.
"Alistair!" she keens and rushes to help him.
The Templar thanks her after patting out the last lick of flame and she helps him get to his feet, "We have to get to the tower. Loghain needs to send in his reinforcements right now."
"I know, Duncan said to light the beacon as soon as we reach it," she confesses, then abruptly pushes him into the balustrade and does a backroll herself to avoid a third burning projectile as it hurtles by, "There has to be and easier way to get there!"
"I swear, if you ask me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold to distract them for you, I am officially drawing the line," he jokes as they run, his lighthearted tone a complete contradiction to the grim look set on his face.
"Aww spoilsport," Rainne pouts after they vault over a shattered pillar, "And here I was hoping I'd get to see how fancy your footwork is."
"Okay, maybe for you I'd do it," he pauses to check on an unmoving guard before shifting his gaze back to her, "But it would have to be a pretty dress. I'm talking about the ruffles, lace, and rhinestones kind of pretty or you can forget the whole thing."
"You're still a spoilsport, ruining all my –," she forgoes the rest of her jibe as a handful of frantic guards mob them, all begging for assistance.
They endure wave after seemingly endless wave of fresh, angry darkspawn that pour out of the tower's entrance for so long that the icy tempest raging around them transforms into thick frosted flakes of something that Alistair calls snow.
Rainne is still scoffing at yet another addition to her friend's arsenal of made up words when cheering spontaneously blooms from the battlefield around her. Taking a hint from the others flanking her, she tilts her head back to discover that the beacon-which resides on the uppermost floor of the tower-has been set alight, its flames streaking scarlet tendrils high into the night sky.
The victory is short lived though, because as swiftly as they'd began celebrating, the soldiers start screaming in vain at the sea of torches that are retreating from the far hill instead of pressing forward into the fray.
The events unfurl in less than a minute, but it is enough time for the horde to gain the upper hand over the Grey Wardens and their allies. One, two, five, then twenty defenders fall under darkspawn blades in rapid succession before the warriors are compelled to forfeit their hard earned ground and make a desperate run for the outer gates.
As they scurry into the forest, Rainne pauses to take a final look at the unheeded beacon and wonders which unlucky sods made it to the top.
The duster thumps her right fist to her chest and bows, "Atrast tunsha. May the Stone welcome you home, my brothers and sisters."
The tears, freezing in long tracks down her face, are brushed away as she swivels on her heels and jogs after Alistair and the others.
